#ofc something else might happen with her but i haven’t read those books !! so for now i am hollyleaf’s number one fan

[toothpastewolf]

What’s your favourite Warriors book?

i’ve actually yet to read them all (it’s gonna take a while as i’m on arc 4 right now lmao), but power of three is one of my favorite arcs so far so i’d have to say sunrise is my favorite book !! i am the number one hollyleaf defender

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

-

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

-

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

-

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

-

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

-

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

-

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

-

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)

[kabira]

03 | a little nighttime swinging

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 2.8k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — violence

note — you know the drill—send me an ask or dm to be added to the taglist! first appearance of the amazing aunt may, so cheers to that. don’t really have much to add except for the fact that i woke up dead tired before morning classes to finish this...but it was fun so i guess it was worth it.

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

Vernon almost jumped out of his seat when his phone buzzed.

And while he managed to keep his butt firmly planted, he did accidentally swipe half the stuff off his table, phone included. Granted, he should have been paying more attention—usually, he’d be alert and ready for the pestering texts about the day’s homework, but today he had been too tired to keep his eyes open for long.

He wiped the drool gathered at one corner of his mouth and swiped his phone up off the ground, his fingers going on autopilot as they entered the passcode and clicked open the messenger app.

LUCE:

page 25

wtf is a fitting reaction

nvm it’s fittig

VERNON:

reminds of the time you found a milf in the history textbook

LUCE:

the past is in the past

let it gooo

anyway send me the answers to q 11 through 13 and i’ll buy u whatever u want from larry’s on friday

Vernon snorted a laugh, then clicked off without answering. Bold of her to assume I don’t already have someone else to pay for my order. Somehow, though, the text from her had been almost relieving. After all the new changes, he had almost expected her not to text him. It was stupid, he knew, but he couldn’t help being a little apprehensive about the new superhero stuff taking over his regular routine.

He glanced back at the ground, where an old notebook with plans for web shooter mods lay open on the ground, loose pages spilling out. It was already dark out, but the streetlights hadn’t been switched on yet—a good time to sneak out in his suit without being seen; he didn’t want Mrs. Jones next door wondering why Spider-Man was swinging out of Vernon Parker’s bedroom window when she went out for her evening walk.

He exhaled through his teeth, blinking hard to push back any remaining sleepiness. Most of his homework remained yet to be done, but in his defense, he’d had a lot on his mind, not to mention his running on less sleep and more leftover Rhino-induced adrenaline.

He was tired. His was the kind of exhaustion that seeped into his bones and trickled into the empty corners of his mind, making him want move instead of lie down and rest for a while. It was the kind of tiredness you could only wash away by doing, and as long as he was Spider-Man, there was always something to do.

He clicked off the reading light, dousing the room in darkness. His senses were awake, as if straining for the stimulus of the city, and he needed a good nighttime swing to clear his mind anyway. I deserve a break.

Changing into the costume took all of forty-five seconds, picking up the fallen books three seconds. After sticking a pillow under the bedcovers, Vernon perched on the window pane, looking out into the chilly backyard below. Somehow, changing into his suit and swinging out from his actual neighborhood seemed even more thrilling than swinging in.

Maybe if I go out this way, those three won’t be able to follow.

“Vernon, are you in there?”

His heart almost leaped out of his throat at the voice. Vernon turned, eyes wide, eyes zooming in on the shadow lurking at the bottom of his bedroom door, where a little light seeped in from outside. The lock clicked as Aunt May’s hand pressed down on the handle, and the door opened a crack.

“Don’t come in, I’m naked!” he yelled in a fit of panic, backflipping from the window onto the mattress, making the bedsprings squeak tellingly under his weight. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was so sleep-deprived he’d forgotten about locking the door.

Rule number one of hiding your secret identity from your all-seeing aunt: never leave the bedroom door open.

“Oh,” his aunt’s voice came from outside. The light spilling in from the crack in the door receded as she pulled the door shut again. “I just wanted to ask, dear, aren’t you going to eat anything? You haven’t had a bite since you came back from school.”

Crap, that’s true, he thought, the muscles of his stomach tightening at the thought. I’ll swing by the candy store downtown. “Uh, I don’t think I will,” he said. “I’m not hungry, er—think I might be coming down with something.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” May’s worried voice sounded, the door beginning to open again. “I could have whipped you up a—”

“No!” he yelled, instinctively pulling the covers up to his chest. “Naked, remember?”

The door closed again. “Well, put something on,” she replied. “And I’ll make you some soup.”

“You do that,” he muttered loudly, already feeling guilt pool in the pit of his stomach at making her so something for him. But what else was he supposed to do? “Actually, no, don’t bother. I can feel a headache coming on already. I’ll turn in for the night and have a big breakfast tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to anything?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And don’t come in! Because—you know—germs and stuff. Really nasty bug going around in school, one of the kids in my class had it. Don’t wanna infect you too.”

He heard her sigh, but it was an accepting sigh, albeit a little reluctant. “All right,” she said, and the shadow under the door pulled back a little. “Good night, Vernon.”

“Night, Aunt May,” he said, watching the slit of light under the door until the shadow receded completely. As soon as he was in the clear, he breathed a sigh of relief, slipping off the covers.

Those S.H.I.E.L.D. guys had it easy.

Although he couldn’t feel the night air on his bare skin, swinging through the city at night always left him feeling refreshed. It was a little ironic, sure, physical exertion energizing him, but Vernon suspected it was more of a psychological thing. Being out here in the open reminded him of who he actually was supposed to be—not just Vernon Parker, the tired highschooler with leftover chemistry homework, but crime-fighting, wall-crawling, not-homework-doing Spider-Man.

He landed on the roof of a high building, hitting the concrete with a satisfying plunk. Everything seemed more alive at night. Even from up here, he could hear the sounds of humanity on the street below, loud voices running into each other over the noise of traffic. The Daily Bugle billboard on the high building opposite him was lit up—Jameson probably dragging him like always—but Vernon tuned it out. The last thing he needed right now was more negativity.

He was about to leap off the side again when his ears picked up a soft sound behind him. Bad guys, he thought reflexively, before realizing there was a much better explanation.

His jaw clenched, shoulders tightening before he forced them to relax. “You can come out now,” he called without turning, upset rippling through his body despite him desperately trying not to show it. “There’s no point in hiding if you can’t even do it properly.”

Their hesitation was almost audible, but then she stepped out from behind the small roof door. Tiger’s white suit was stark against the dark sky, her mask’s cat ears perked like Daredevil’s horns. He had to admit it was pretty impressive that she’d managed to stay unnoticed that long.

Nova floated up from the side of the building next, carrying a disgruntled-looking Felix. Seeing the latter out of his X-Men costume felt strange, like seeing Fury without his eyepatch. There was definitely something up with him, but Vernon didn’t want to pry, so he stored the suspicion away for later perusal.

“You can sense non-threatening presences with your spider sense?” Nova asked, looking both annoyed and awed. “Your file didn’t say that.”

Vernon was tempted to lie just to spite him, but stopped himself. If these guys were going to be his teammates, lying about his abilities probably wasn’t the best way to go. “No, you’re just bad at stealth,” he replied, deadpan. “How did you even find me? No, wait, let me guess—camera outside my house?”

“Tracker on your suit, actually,” Tiger said. Despite the mask covering her face, he could sense her guilt, which didn’t help his case. “We can’t learn to work together if you keep running away from us.”

“Running? I wasn’t running,” he said defensively. “And if you want us to work together, the best place to start is to tell me your name.”

“You already know my name.”

“Your other name.”

“Ah.” Her head tilted up. The high ponytail coming out the back of her head flicked to the side as nodded. “White Tiger.”

“A bit simplistic, but to the point.” He nodded in mock-approval. “Makes me think I should’ve just named myself Radioactive Spider.”

She didn’t take the bait, which was probably for the better. “So, what?” Nova asked, and Vernon was suddenly reminded of how infuriating his voice was. “Are you just going to stand around all night?”

“Swing around, actually,” he said. “It’s a big place. Sooner or later, I’m bound to find a crime happening. Sometimes it even happens to me.”

As if on cue, sirens sounded in the distance, loud and piercing. He shrugged at the three, before turning around and balancing himself on the edge. “If you want to get some real-world experience, there’s nothing better than stopping a petty robbery,” he said. “I hope you can keep up—because I’m not going to slow down.”

And he dived.

There was that feeling again, the air pressure against his body as he fell headfirst like a comet towards the busy street. A couple of people looked up as he pulled up at the last moment, shooting webs at an overhead lamppost and swinging in a circle around it before letting go, launching his body into the air again.

He looked over the rooftops as he swung, half-curious about how the others were going to follow. A small, white-clad figure leaped from building to building with surprising grace and strength, able to match him in speed. Nova flew alongside him, carrying Iceman again, who still wasn’t using his powers. Vernon knew it wasn’t a case of loss of powers either, because then he wouldn’t be here, and plus, he’d seen the guy in action this morning. Was he trying to remain inconspicuous?

The less people know Iceman’s in town, the better, he thought, though he knew it was a futile effort. The Rhino fight in the morning hadn’t had any live coverage, but he knew for all its lectures, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t going to bother with hiding its tracks either. School next day was probably going to be buzzing with talk about the new superheroes.

He gritted his teeth. All this in a day. He could imagine how bad everything was going to get in the coming days.

Mid-swing, he saw the crime happening up ahead, a group of masked men trying to break into a store through the back door in a poorly-lit area. Vernon balanced on a high lamppost without alerting them, taking a moment to assess the situation. There were about eight men in balaclavas—a lot for a simple robbery. Maybe they were first-timers. Easy enough to take down.

“A record store?” he wondered aloud, and one of the guys whirled around, looking up at him with wide eyes. “What are you guys doing stealing from record stores?”

“Spider-Man!” one of them yelled, though he didn’t really see the point, since anyone who hadn’t noticed him yet probably deserved whatever was coming.

The man who had noticed him first fumbled for something along his hip before pulling out a gun and pointing it at him. “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot!”

“Oh, no, don’t shoot!” he called out, and the man’s taut shoulders relaxed somewhat before Vernon shot a web straight at the gun, jerking it right out of his hand. “Can’t believe you fell for that.”

He jumped, landing on the ground in a crouch. The leader of the little group, the one who had been trying to bust open the door with a crowbar, stepped forward, swinging said crowbar in what Vernon guessed was supposed to be a menacing way. “Step aside,” he said to his men, his eyes narrowed on Vernon. “I’ll take care of the Spider.”

Vernon was so amused he let the guy attempt to swing at him, dodging the crowbar at the last moment. “Okay, not gonna lie,” he said. “When you called me the Spider, it made me feel kind of sexy.”

He kicked the robber in the side, sending him flying into a trashcan. The rest of the group hesitated only a moment before closing in again. Vernon webbed the lid of the trashcan, swinging it around like a shot-put player and knocking back some of them, before he let go, sending it crashing into one.

Nova dropped Felix in the midst of the group, and his skin slowly solidified into ice. “Okay, playtime’s over now,” he said. “If you just give up, I won’t have to bash your heads in.”

“Where did you come from?” one of the men asked, clearly surprised, right before Iceman froze him into a life-sized ice sculpture.

Vernon knocked out another man with a good old punch to the face. His spider sense buzzed. The crowbar guy, he thought as he whirled around, hands spread in shooting position, but White Tiger was already there, slicing through his crowbar with her claws. “Thanks,” he murmured, as she put him out of commission with a well-placed roundhouse.

She inclined her head. “Don’t get distracted.”

He turned, seeing Nova’s fists start to glow as he aimed at the guy who was attempting to sneak away. Vernon’s eyes landed behind him, where an unsuspecting civilian car was coming down the street. “No!” he yelled, webbing a surprised Nova to the wall.

“Hey, man, what the heck?!” Nova yelled back, struggling against the webs. Vernon shot web fluid at the guy who had been trying to escape, wrapping him up like a cocoon. There was the muffled sound of something heavy falling as Tiger drop-kicked the last one, cleanly finishing what he admitted would otherwise have taken longer. She leaped across the street, slicing through the webs covering Nova, who dropped to the sidewalk.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked, stalking up to Vernon with his fists clenched. “I had that guy!”

“No, you almost sent him crashing into that car,” Vernon said, gesturing at the vehicle behind him that now passed unharmed. “When in a fight, civilians are always first priority. They can’t defend themselves like us.”

Nova scowled, but turned on his heel and marched away, muttering something about him stealing the glory. Vernon watched him go with a frown, then turned around.

One of the robbers lay webbed-up, two quite literally frozen in place, five knocked out. The fight had taken a total of about two minutes—not a record, but considering the number they were going against, surprisingly efficient. He wasn’t even sure if this classified as a fight or simply a one-sided beatdown.

Overkill, he thought, then sighed. “You people have a lot to learn.”

“Oh, come on,” Iceman said. He seemed energized after the fight as his skin melted back to normal, a lively glint in his eye where there hadn’t been one a few minutes ago. “That was so much fun.”

“Yeah, but you have to learn to care about collateral damage,” he snapped, trying and failing to hide his annoyance. Now that he wasn’t swinging alone, crime-fighting wasn’t half as fun, even if it was twice as fast. Having someone watch his back was safe, sure, but it could lead to him letting his guard down. And what if he ended up somewhere alone? “You’re fast, but we’re not fighting in a vacuum. We’re not fighting a war, we’re protecting people. That’s supposed to be the most important thing—making sure no one gets hurt.”

“Even these guys?” Nova asked, toeing one of the unconscious robbers.

“Yeah, even these guys,” Vernon said. “Well, they can be hurt a little bit, but that’s only because there’s no other way to stop them. Next time, make sure you’re not letting any innocent people get in the way of your fun.”

The group fell silent. He almost felt bad about killing their enthusiasm, but Nova’s recklessness had managed to give him a scare. One more second and he might have had a death on his conscience.

The sirens were closer now. He’d completely forgotten about the cops; web-slinging was a much faster method of travel than cars, and he almost always left them behind. “Come on,” he told the others, casting one last glance around the scene. Something felt off, but he guessed it was just the novelty of working in a team. Fun day. “The police will find them. Let’s go.”

[sun-choices]

It Lives Series: A Guide For Those Who Are Bad At Horror

*ORIGINALLY POSTED ON REDDIT, I AM REPOSTING HERE*

I’m famously bad at horror. I’ve played every single Choices book and been into the app since early when it came out in 2017, but the one series I’d never dared to play was the It Lives series. I’ve been dying to play the series but the scariest thing I’ve watched is Caroline and I get nightmares from that. I’ve also got real bad anxiety, so it was a no-go for me. However, I finally sucked it up and went through both, and god damn, they do live up to their rep. There’s been posts before asking how bad it is, but I would’ve liked something with more guidance to keep the anxiety more at bay. If anyone out there has been holding off on playing, or wants to replay as safely as you can, I hope this helps you all out.This guide will contain some spoilers for those who haven't played it yet, but I’ll try to keep them at the minimum, just some of the scariest stuff. I will also talk about keeping your friends alive diamond free in ILB, a highly debated topic, so keep reading for that too.

GENERAL GUIDELINES

Use the wiki guide for both books. This is the safest way to make the safest choices, have slight but not full on spoilers, and keep your friends alive without spending diamonds willy-nilly.

Do NOT play at night, and play with your sound off. Listen to cheery music even, if you want. I found the best time to play was taking on 2 chapters in the morning, and preferably when I had something to do for the day to take my mind off it later (school, work, etc)

Do not fret when you lose nerve. You might even fail nerve checks, but that doesn’t mean its the end for you all. Follow the wiki and think about how you want to play ILB, and everything should go fine in the end.

You don’t need diamonds to keep everyone alive in both books. However, a few calculated diamond choices can help make things less scary. I’ll go more in depth for each game, but as a general guide, weapons pop up over and over a lot in both games. If you want to spend, that’s a good choice.

Play differently than you usually do if you can. I usually play as a girl in non genderlocked books, so I played as a guy here with names very different from what I’d usually choose. Its a small thing, but can help separate things in your mind.

If you ever get really scared or you want to purposely do a darker play through and something disturbs you, remember we’ve basically all played the book, and these writers at PB were really just going all out on these books.

If you want to have a chance at winning diamond free in ILB or make it easier on yourself, everyone must survive in ILITW, and you must sacrifice Noah.

IT LIVES IN THE WOODS

IMO, I found this book scarier, while the other felt more like a mystery book. This is in part due to the scary artwork. There’s a pretty bad jumpscare early in the first chapter, of a purple zombified Dan, so beware of that and perhaps keep your hand splayed over the top. Monsters will also pop up throughout the book but they’re not so bad once you’ve seem them once or twice. The mud monsters can be scary as well for some. Redfield might look a bit creepy too at times but its manageable, look away from the sprite and cover it up if its too much for you. There’s a noticeable in Chapter 9 where the walls are filled with spiders so be ready to look away if that type of thing creeps you out. The next scariest thing I’d say is at the second to last chapter when the friends play Are You Scared in the cave and reading about your friend’s deaths and seeing their bodies splayed over the screen.

Scary story spoilers if you want them: Dan will be missing and then in a coma at first, but he will be found and turn out to be okay later on. Cody will show up impaled and dead on the tree outside your house at one point. Jane is Redfield. To complete the sealing ritual, someone else must become the monster (Noah or MC).

It is easier to keep everyone alive in this book, so don’t worry too much. Try to enjoy their friendships and any LIs you romance, because one of the best parts of these books is how well written everyone is and how intricate the story is.

You can make it through the story pretty easily w/o diamonds. However, as I said before, weapons are very useful to have and they reoccur the most often, helping tone down rougher scenes. Pets are nice refreshers, so if you want to buy one, thats cool too. The lore is what I feel least necessary, and you can google them up on the wiki anyways, but whatever you choose is fine!

IT LIVES BENEATH

This book is less scary, but harder to keep everyone alive. You cannot make one wrong choice without diamonds, and even then, everyone will be alive but Parker will abandon the group and go live elsewhere. This is okay if you don’t mind, but a few calculated diamond choices can help avoid this. Save up diamonds from ILITW to do so. Play with the wiki to get every choice right. You need a group nerve score of somewhere around 289 for nobody to die, so even if you fail minor nerve checks, even those sewer checks, get it up to there by then and you should be okay.

To win without diamonds: Choose EVERY right choice, so use the wiki or replay chapters. You MUST either dance or sit with Tom (you cannot lose your finger at the nerve check or you will need diamonds to make up and keep anyone from dying). Do note, I believe Parker will abandon the group regardless if you don’t buy at least one diamond choice, but he can still stay alive and nobody will die. Alternatively, you can keep him in the group for free but someone would have to die for him.

With Minimal Diamonds: Buy Parker’s stun baton. This boosts his nerve significantly throughout the book and I believe it’ll help get him to 55/100, the amount you need for him to stay in the group. I also bought the scene where you hide with him in a closet, and his end nerve was in the 80’s, so I think you’ll be okay with just the stun baton.

Disturbing scenes and spoilers: this book doesn’t have as many jump scares like the other. The first chapter has a gruesome bloody murder scene where you find MC’s parents dead and a bloody symbol on the floor, and MC remembers this in a flashback throughout the first half of the book. Maybe some of the animals are unsettling at first but they pop up so often its not too bad. The ghost monster from the lake is unsettling too but I’d put her at the same level as Benji’s statue in the closet you find in QB. Finally, I’d say towards the end when you go from the sewer into the water and find Josephine’s skeleton with the marlinspikes in her, that’s also unsettling. If you don’t like seeing ghost sprites, you will see Josephine’s and her angry expression is creepy as well, but again, try to avoid looking or cover up the sprite and you should be alright. Finally, in the last chapter, Richard will try to murder MC by putting them in a coffin. If your nerve is high enough and you use the wiki guide for the right answers, you will survive just fine.

Optional Diamond Purchases: if you have the extra diamonds, I highly recommend buying the bracelet as it serves like a little warning before something bad/scary will happen, and gives MC a major nerve boost later on. Again, weapons are great (I wish I had bought Imogen’s Bolas to keep her nerve higher but oh well), and weapons appear REALLY often in this book so its a worthy purchase. Next I’d say some of the rune items are helpful, such as the skeleton key and Danni’s seeing stone, and ofc the bracelet, but if you had to choose, I’d say weapons before most of the runes. Pets really only pop up once after the initial purchase, but they’re sweet if you want them. As for scenes with the group/one LI, those are nice too, they give MAJOR nerve boosts and since you kinda have to be selective of how you play diamondless, if you really wanna romance someone specific its a good way to get more interaction without risking someone else through the free options, and brings the group score way up regardless.

I hope this guide is useful to some of you, and if I’ve forgotten anything or you have questions, feel free to add on. This is a horror based series and I totally respect and understand anyone who wishes to play it as such and doesn’t mind characters dying, however the plot is so damn good, the friend groups are A+, and I figured I would’ve liked a guide like this when I played. Good luck everyone!

[fanficwriter013]

The Tower: Unexpected - 2

The Tower: Unexpected An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist

Previous

Pairing:  Avengers x ofc, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2354

Warnings: Y’all it’s us, if you don’t know what you’re in for. Boy, you gon cry. Angst baby angst, pregnancy, sickness/vomiting.

Synopsis: A little over 2 years after moving into the Avengers Tower, Elly finds herself pregnant against the odds.  While some are excited, others are terrified, and pregnancy that none expected to happen causes rifts through the group and threatens to end the relationship.  

Author’s Note:  Written with my wordy bitch co-captain @avengerscompound

Chapter 2: Against the Odds

It took quite a while to suspect I was pregnant.  It was after Thor had left for Asgard.  I know you’re probably thinking I’m a huge idiot for that.  You’ve been following the story.  You’ve heard about the kinds of sex I have and with the sheer volume of people I have it with.  I’ve also never mentioned a condom once.  The thing is I have Implanon in place.  The stats for that are good.  Yeah, okay, no birth control is 100% effective.  But this one is like 1/1000 women every three years.  The odds were in my favor.

I also can hear the mom in the back of my head yelling at me about how ‘condoms don’t just protect against pregnancy, Elise’.  That is true, and okay I’m not the smartest person.  I got carried away sometimes, but they are the Avengers.  I figured with the amount Natasha had stalked me, to begin with, they had something in place to make sure nothing was passed on to other people or vice versa.  I was right in the end too, so back off, mom.  Also, don’t follow my example, it gets you pregnant.

The thing I didn’t mention, was before I even came along Bruce had developed a contraceptive for the men.  He didn’t want to risk himself getting anyone pregnant and he thought it would save any problems with women outside trying to make claims against them.  I’d had a talk very early on with Sam about babies, and if they had wanted them and what would they do if say Wanda ever got accidentally knocked up.  He’d told me that the men were all on this shot they took every month, and babies weren’t really in the books for them.  That maybe later Wanda might decide she wanted to.  She was very maternal.  Right now though, none of the men in the group wanted nor felt they could handle being parents and if that changed for Wanda or if it was something I thought I wanted it might be the thing that took us out of the arrangement we had.

Ugh… fuck my life, seriously.

So I’d come to terms with that.  With my upbringing, I was never really sure if my biological call to have kids was me or the conditioning my parents had beat into me that I needed to be a wife and mother.  I knew at the time I had that conversation I wasn’t ready to, and maybe that would never change.

Then I started getting sick.  It was low-level nausea that dulled as the day progressed but it worsened every day.  I felt achy too.  Yes, in the breasts.  No one questioned it.  Double birth control, we were fine.  I was coming down with the flu or something.  I didn’t notice if I’d skipped periods or not.  My birth control made that happen anyway.

As soon as the thought passed through my head I panicked.  With Wanda here, I couldn’t risk her hearing that thought until I knew if it meant anything.  If she heard it, she’d get excited and then I wouldn’t be able to think about this rationally.  So I rushed to the closest CVS and bought some pregnancy tests and took them straight to my apartment and used them.

Every single one of them turned positive.

I didn’t know what to do.  I had been told in explicit terms they didn’t want children.  I wasn’t even sure if I wanted them.  Only looking at the tests I wasn’t having an ‘I’ve got get rid of them’ feeling.  I was worried they’d be angry with me.  That conditioning I had that I’d get in trouble for disappointing people was pretty heavily ingrained.  I was worried that I would make them feel trapped into doing something they didn’t want to do.  It was just, I could picture myself holding this baby.  I could picture them with a child.  Maybe it would have been better if Wanda had heard my thought then she could have told me what to do.

I considered calling up Jax and talking to him.  Maybe getting Clarke to just take me to a clinic and getting this over with and the others would never even have to know how close I came to ruining their lives.

Only I couldn’t do that.  They had a right to know.  To have input on this.  I imagined every single worst case scenario that you could imagine.  Bruce Hulking out and destroying the place.  Getting tossed to the street.  Having them accuse me of cheating on them.  Demanding DNA tests.  Even with all those thoughts, I told FRIDAY to call an emergency family meeting and took the elevator up to the common room with one of the positive tests in a baggie to wait for them all to arrive.

One by one they all trickled in each asking me what was wrong as I sat curled up in one of the recliners.  Each wanting to comfort me, but not knowing how when they didn’t know what I was dealing with.

Finally, Wanda came in with Sam and she looked at me and squeaked rushing over and climbing into the chair next to me and nuzzling into my side as she stroked her fingers gently over my stomach.

“Okay, so we’re all here.  What’s going on?”  Tony asked.

“So... um... I need to tell you something and I really need you to stay calm Bruce.  And also... I didn't mean for this to happen.  Okay?  I ... this wasn't something I planned.”  I said looking directly at him.  I could feel my pulse racing.  Even with Wanda’s comforting touch, all I could think was the next thing out of my mouth was going to destroy all of this.

“El, honey, we've talked about this. You can't start a sentence like that, and expect me to stay calm.”   Bruce said, stiffening up.

I shook my head feeling a very strong urge to cry.  “I don't know how else to do this, B.  It's bad either way.  At least you can brace yourself.”

“Rip the band-aid off, El,”  Tony said.

I took a deep breath in and dug in my pocket for the test and tossed it on the coffee table.  “I’m pregnant.”

Wanda squealed and squeezed me, peppering little kisses on my cheek.  The rest of the room froze and stared at me.  Some with their jaws dropped open.  Steve slowly went and picked up the test and turned it over in his hand.

“But - but - but … I, I, uh, made…”  Bruce stuttered.  He seemed to be turning green at the edges and I jumped up and rushed over to him, getting on my hands and knees in front of him and taking his hand.

“I know.  I know.  I was on it too. Look,”  I said twisting my arm so he could see the little bar implanted under my skin.  “I still am.  I don't know what happened.”

“I don't…”  Bruce said and shook his head suddenly, he was turning a darker and his muscles started shifting.

“Bruce.  Come on, you can't run from this.”  I implored, putting my head in his lap and digging my fingers into his thigh.  He started breathing heavily and I could feel the way his thigh muscles tensed and grew under me.  “Bruce.  I swear to god…”

“El, back up,”  Wanda said.

I burst into tears and scrambled back from him, tears streaming down my face as Bruce doubled over and changed, growing larger, his clothes tearing and his skin turning green.

“El,”  Nat said, “Come here.”

I moved up next to her and she wrapped me in her arms as Hulk took complete control over from Bruce.  “I’m sorry.”  I sobbed.  “I know no one wanted this.  I fucked up.”

She pulled me tightly against her and rubbed my back as I cried against her.

“Hulk, baby?”  Hulk rumbled moving closer to us.

I looked up at him through tear stained eyes.  “Hey, big guy.  Yeah.  Something like that.”

“Hulk, here.”  He said tapping his chest.

“Thank you,”  I said patting the back of his hand.  It was nice knowing I had someone else here who would support me, even if he wasn’t exactly the one that I wanted.  “I don’t know... I don’t know what to do.”

“We get ready,”  Wanda said.  “For a baby.”

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.  “Yeah?”  I said and looked around at the others.  “Is that what everyone wants?”

Hulk huffed and nodded his head.  “Hulk want baby.”

I took a deep breath.  “Okay.  I guess.  I guess I need to give the rest of you time to process.  If anyone has strong reasons why you think I shouldn’t go through with this, now is the time.  I literally have no idea about the biology factor.  I don’t know how far along I am even.  Might be timed with a Thor visit.  A week either side I think in any case.  So I’m not sure how we tell him about that.”

“I could maybe run some tests,”  Tony said.  “You'd have to take your own blood, and I'm not the biologist.”

“Okay.  So we run blood tests to find out who?  That’s what we want to do now?”  I asked.

“No,”  Steve said firmly.  “We shouldn’t know whose they are.  We’re in this together.  That is all our baby.”

“You don’t want to know?  But what if it is Thor’s and there’s some special Asgardian prenatal care I need.  What if it’s Bruce’s and it hulks out inside me.”  I said.  I was half joking and then it occurred to me what I’d just said.  “Oh god, what if it hulks out inside me?  Can a fetus hulk out?”

“I'm not even sure I'd be able to read the results to know who's it belonged to,”  Tony said.

“I can.  But I - I’m gonna need a Doctor.  Like an actual obstetrician.  I haven’t made an appointment yet because I just found out, but it can’t just be the way we do things.”  I explained.  There was a tendency in the tower for the others to rely heavily on Bruce and Sam for their medical care, even though neither were technically medical doctors.  If it was really bad they’d call in Helen Cho but they didn’t like to trust other people.  I needed to make sure Tony didn’t just try and take over as my doctor instead of actually getting one.

“I'm going to do the research,”  Tony said with a nod.  “With the potential, we need the best.”

“Okay.  But also quickly.  There’s vitamins and stuff I’m supposed to take and I have to get this out of my arm.  And I don’t know what I’m doing.” I said putting my head in my hands.  “I guess we can make it that if you don’t want to know we don’t have to test you but if you do we can.  That’s fair right?”

“I can agree to this,”  Steve said and Sam nodded with him.

“Okay,”  I said and took a shaky breath.  “And we’re all... I’m keeping it, right?  That’s what’s happening?”

Bucky looked at me with a pained expression.  “Do you not want to keep it?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know what to do.”  I said breaking down again.  “I thought you’d all be angry at me.  Bruce is obviously angry at me.”

Hulk shook his head.  “Puny Banner scared.  Hulk here.  Hulk want baby.”  He put his hand forward.  “Hulk feel?”

“Yes.  There’s nothing to really feel yet.  But you can.”  I said leaning back against Natasha to give him room.  He gently placed his hand on me, so it wrapped around my side.  “You’ll be able to feel them when they’re bigger.”

“Them?”  Natasha asked.

“I - oh no,”  I said rubbing my head.  The idea of more than one was more I could even deal with right now.  “That was just a nongendered them but what if it’s them?”

“Twins.”  Wanda squealed.  Her excitement was nice but I was starting to feel emotionally exhausted like all I wanted to do was curl up and sleep until the baby was born.

“Let’s not... let’s just wait it’s probably just one right?”  I said.

“And you think you're how far?”  Steve asked.

“This thing messes up my cycle,”  I answered, tapping my arm where my birth control was.  “I haven’t had a period for over three months.  I started feeling sick a few weeks ago. I started actually throwing up three days ago.”

“Okay, something for a blood sample then,”  Steve said.

“Ultrasound too, I suppose.  I'm sorry.”

“Honey, no,”  Steve said.  “We should have been more careful.”

“How more careful could we have been?”  I asked.

“But…”  Sam said quietly.

“But?”  I asked.

“Bruce’s drug. There were tests.”  He said.

It felt like Sam had slapped me in the face.  Of all the people to suggest I had manipulated this somehow I didn’t expect it to be him.  “What do you think I did, Sam?  You think I sabotaged it somehow?  You think I've been going out and sleeping around on top of the 9 of you and hoping this would happen?  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry that I'm apparently the most fertile person on the planet that only one escapee managed to do this.”

“No, honey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.”  Sam said.  “I'm just trying to figure this out. Trying to process it. Which I'm sure you're doing the same.”

“Sorry.  Shouldn’t have snapped.   I know no one wanted this.” I said quietly.  I’d started feeling really sick and I didn’t want to be in here anymore.

Wanda looked over at Natasha and something seemed to pass between them.  “I wanted this.”  She said.

“So do I,”  Natasha said.  “Now come on.  Time for you to have a sleep.  They can have some time to process it.”  She said and scooped me up, carrying me into the shared bedroom.  It was quite a while before I saw many of those men again.

// NEXT

[mere-mortifer-writing]

Dean Winchester/Reader ❧ Sweet Apology

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Dean Winchester/Reader; Dean Winchester/OFC Word count: 4874 | Chapter 1 of 3 Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content Tags: Fluff & Smut, a smidge of Angst; Misunderstandings; Porn with Feelings; Arguing; Reader has a crush on Dean  Summary: The plan was to watch a movie in Dean's room, but without Sam to help her feel less awkward, it's no surprise that she ends up saying something stupid - and make Dean think she dislikes him, of all things, when she has a gigantic crush on the guy. They start yelling at each other, soon enough they're kissing, and then - well, Dean's bed gets put to good use. It kind of sucks, though, that as soon as they're done Dean puts his clothes back on leaves her like nothing happened. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Well, not really. He's just absolutely clueless. I swear, if these two don't open their mouths and talk...

Beta’d by @mostly-shawn and @aingealcethlenn - Thank you so much for the help <3 

Read on Ao3 | Chapter Two coming soon

❧ Chapter One 

So, to summarize: she’s eating Fruity Loops, in an underground bunker, at the same table as two certified living legends in the hunting community. The monster hunting community, may she remind you in case you lost the memo.

She is, apparently, very good at identifying and theoretically killing said monsters – although God forbid they ever ask her to join in on the action. She admires Sam and Dean for what they do, but she's fine staying behind the scenes: rummaging through old lore books and giving herself a headache is as far as she'll go. She has proven herself useful in multiple occasions, so no shame there. 

Sam confessed to her, on the one memorable occasion when he had drunk enough to be tipsy, that he was more than happy she has to interest in hunting.

"It's my life and I love it", he said, "but it sucks all the ass and you shouldn't do it. Everyone fucking dies. If you got hurt I'd be sad about it for at least six months straight. I'd grow a beard and all." "What would Dean do?", she asked in morbid curiosity.  "'Dunno, drink and throw every chair and lamp he sees on the ground, maybe? He does that a lot. Just - never hunt, okay?" "I'll do it for the sake of your poor furniture", she responded, and she never changed her mind. 

Sorry, sometimes the crazy hits her all at once, and she needs to do a recap of the situation. Where was she? Oh, right: she was looking at Dean. (What else is new?)

Dean's sprawled on the wooden chair like a bored king, dead guy's robe at least two sizes too big on his broad shoulders. It's one of those rare instances where he slept well the night before, and he looks cozy and relaxed and roughly fifteen years younger than yesterday.

She's trying so hard not to openly stare at him that her cereal got all mushy in the meantime.

"Are you sure Jody can deal with this on her own?", Dean is saying, oblivious to her thoughts. "Seems to me like she's already got her hands full, with the girls and all."

On the other side of the table, Sam sips his coffee and nods. "Yeah, hopefully, it'll be just the one werewolf. I told Jody to call us if she finds out there's more going on."

"Hopefully there's not. Oh!" Dean slaps a celebratory hand on the table and grins. "That means we've got the day off! We could take advantage of that Netflix subscription we pay for." "Garth is paying – we're just leeching off of him. And I actually wanted to go for a run. Wanna come?" "Ugh." "Yeah, I thought so. You two can start without me, though. I'll join you later."

Oh, the mental image that double-meaning evokes!  But it’s more of a private joke with herself that anything – she likes Sam, obviously, if only because she's a straight woman with functioning eyes, but she doesn't have a crush. He’s tall and kind, and objectively attractive but he’s not… 

Her eyes fall on his brother's long fingers tapping on the table, his strong wrist peeking out of the robe’s sleeve, and she feels her stomach tie in knots. 

He’s not Dean, alright?

She didn’t ask not to have eyes but for him, and yet here she is: all moon-eyed over his wrist, of all things. 

Someone shoot her; it’d be a mercy killing at this point. 

Dean turns to her, all bright-eyed in his good mood. "What do you say, movie marathon? We could stay in my room, get comfy on the bed." Well, now, that makes her legs clench tight together under the table.  She knows she’ll have to answer very quickly because in a second she’ll start overthinking and find some excuse not to join Dean. In his bedroom, on his bed. Something she has never fantasized about, no sir. "Yes? Yeah, why not!", she exclaims, just a tad too loud. Oh my God, at least try to play it cool. Sam smirks from behind his cup, and she wonders for a moment if this "morning run" of his isn't just a ploy to leave her alone with his brother. Then Dean winks at her, and all other thoughts fly out of the window.  "Awesome. Come on, I'll even let you choose the movie."

❧ ☙

"I'll let you choose, he says," she huffs to herself. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror looks back at her with mild panic in her eyes. "Like that's not agonizing or anything."

God, she just wishes Dean didn't make her so damn nervous. How long has she known the Winchesters for? A year? She's even living with them, she should be past all – she clenches her fists, trying to calm herself – this. And still, Dean makes her heady and rattled just by looking at her for too long. She needs to get a grip.

While she brushes her teeth and washes her face, she settles on Kill Bill – which a) she knows Dean hasn't seen in years and b) should hopefully keep her attention away from his closeness. On his bed. Where she will also be.

God help her.

She walks out of the bathroom up to Dean's room. He's already propping his laptop on a bunch of pillows at the foot of the bed, humming a Metallica song under his breath. His eyes shoot up to her when she arrives.  "Hey! Did you choose the movie?", he says. He's still as carefree as she's ever seen him, but there's something in his voice that was missing during breakfast. A note of –  weariness? Hope? She can't decipher it. "Don't tell Sammy I said, but I could sit through a chick–flick without bitching too much if you wanna watch one.”  And if that isn’t proof he has a martyr complex... "Actually, I was thinking Kill Bill?" He beams up. "Oh hell yeah, haven't seen that one in ages." He finds the movie and hits play, settling down against the bed frame. She notices that he got rid of the robe and is now sitting in only a t–shirt and grey sweatpants. Oh please, no, she thinks, already feeling desperate. Fucking grey sweatpants, tight and revealing in all the right places, inviting her to look down, down...come on, just take a peek- 

She gingerly sits down at the opposite end of the bed, eyes straight ahead.  Despite the distance, she can smell Dean’s cologne (and what the fuck did he put cologne on for?), fresh and manly and very attractive – so much so that she forgets to focus on the film.  She's acutely aware of his presence beside her – of the warmth radiating from him, of how little space and layers there are between their bodies. She also notices him glancing at her from time to time, even though her gaze stays fixed on the computer screen.  Is she acting weird? Is that why he's looking at her? She's literally just sitting there, but maybe there's something on her face, or she's breathing too loud…that has never happened before, but who knows–

"I don't bite, you know?"  She's almost startled by Dean's voice interrupting her manic line of thought. He's now openly watching her, the small smile on his lips a mix between tentative and reassuring. "You can come closer if you want to. You're almost off the bed." She laughs nervously – damn, way to put her on the spot. But he’s right: she’s all bunched up on the corner of the bed, shaky hands hidden under her legs. "I, uh, didn't want to make you uncomfortable, that's all."  What the fuck does that even mean? One of Dean's eyebrows shot up his forehead, and his smile turns disbelieving. "Me? You're the one that looks like she has a gun pointed at her head." Her whole face heats up in embarrassment. He knows she's timid, and anyone who even glances in her direction knows she's head over heels for him – why does he have to put attention on it? "I'm just out of my depth here, you know I'm shy–" "Shy?" he interrupts her. "We've known each other for a year! And we both know you're not like this with Sam." 

Also very true, much to her chagrin – Sam has this puppy-dog aura to himself that makes him look smaller and non-threatening, at least when he’s in the company of friends. Dean...Dean doesn’t seem to have an off-switch, he’s always very unapologetically himself. Even when he’s acting like a total dork, he fills the entire room with his presence.

The mortification of being called out like this is making her eyes water, and Dean's unfaltering eye contact is not helping. "It's different with Sam," she tries to explain. What can she say without giving too much of her feelings away?  "Why? Have I done something bad to you?" he asks. “You’re always so – so skittish with me, it’s like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Dean has the most expressive eyes she has ever seen, and try as he might his feelings are always starkly clear on his face – like now, settling over the vibrant apple-green like an ugly shadow; disappointment and plain sadness. She really, really doesn't want to hurt him, and trips over her own thoughts in an attempt to say I'm not uncomfortable, I'm just in love and bad with feelings – but how to say it without spelling it out? 

"It's nothing you've done,” she tries, “it's just – you."

Oh, God. That came out awfully wrong.

Dean scoffs, breaking the eye contact to look at everything in the room but her. "Yeah, I figured," he snickers, "Could have just said no to watching the movie, then, sweetheart. You shouldn't have to spend time with people you dislike." Dislike? She almost can't believe the irony of the situation. "Dean, I don't dislike you, that's not what I meant." "You just said you have a problem with me as a person! Listen,” – he passes a hand over his mouth, like he does when he needs a second to find the words – “Listen, I don’t know what you heard about me, okay? Sometimes hunters pass through here, and maybe you got wind of some rumours. I’m the first one to admit I can be a douchebag from time to time, but they don’t know me. Hell, half of them I don’t even consider friends! And I thought, you.. well, whatever. You can go back where you came from if living with me is so damn unpleasant! ” Well, ouch. That one hurt. She stands from the bed, raising her voice to hide how close she is to tears.  They could have spent a nice day together, watching movies and eating popcorn from the same bowl or something, and then she had to go ahead and ruin everything.  And he's being so stubborn, God, but what else is new?  "Dean, what – rumours? You think this is about your reputation or something?” “I don’t know! You fucking tell me.” “Why do you wanna argue? You were in such a good mood two minutes ago-" "Yeah, I really was." He jumps off the bed and walks around it until he's face to face with her. "Excuse me if seeing you all – all scared of me kind of killed the mood!" "What? I'm not scared!" "Then why the fuck are you on the verge of tears right now?" "'Cause I'm sorry," she shouts to match his tone. He's standing so close; it's unfair how much it affects her. "I don’t find you scary, okay? I’m sorry I made you think that!" "Yeah, well, I’m sorry, too,” he shouts back. “Then why are we yelling?” “I have no idea!”

They both fall silent. Her mind is trying to process what the fuck just happened, why was she shouting in the first place when Dean is right there, not even five inches away –  eyes bright and fiery because of the argument, the hard line of his mouth relaxing as his expression changes. He looks down at her lips. Her breath catches in her throat. She feels paralyzed by how intensely she wants him at that moment, stuck between throwing caution to the wind or fleeing before she makes a fool of herself. But Dean hasn’t moved away, has he? If anything he’s inching closer, and he's looking at her like, like he, too…

Dean leans in and kisses her, a soft sigh leaving his nose when their lips touch.  He's so warm, is her first thought. Warm and big and solid against her, so much more substantial than in her fantasies – where he holds her just as tightly, kisses her just as deeply. Her hands tremble slightly as she goes to cup his face. God, it's happening for real. She bites on his full bottom lip with urgency, and he tugs her closer by the hips, pushing his tongue in her mouth. He’s not so much aggressive as he’s ardent, burning fast and bright on her skin like he hasn’t much time left – or like he’s waited too long, and he’s hell-bent on making himself unforgettable.

She isn’t sure she would like the pace, was he anyone else.  But oh God, he’s not anyone else, he’s Dean – and she wants, she wants, she wants him and won’t make excuses for liking this. Teeth, bruises, too-sharp nails; warm breaths mixing with hers, his fingers digging in wherever she’s softer and warmer. 

She passes a hand on the short hair at the nape of his neck, and she can feel goosebumps rise on his arms at the feeling. Dean gives her one last peck on the lips before hiding his face in the crook of her neck – he releases a shuddering sigh that makes her shiver, and nips at the skin behind her ear. His big hands settle on her legs, squeezing and palming the back of her thighs until she's raised to her tiptoes. "Hold on, baby," he says and picks her up from the ground.  Wrapped around his waist, she can feel his erection pressing on her core –  and she's never felt emptier and needier than right there with Dean, hard and panting, ready to fuck her against a wall.  "Oh God," she moans, and desperately paws at Dean's shirt to get some skin–on–skin contact.  He raises his face to watch her and chuckles at her efforts, grinding with more and more insistence against her.  "I know, I know," he hums, "I gotcha." He smiles that boyish adorable grin he sometimes does, and she's overwhelmed by both the rush of affection for him and the desire pooling low in her belly. 

She's about to say something undoubtedly stupid that would ruin everything –  she has the three words already formed on her lips, but they turn into a gasp when Dean twists around and lets her fall on the mattress. The cold sheets underneath her give some clarity back. Not that she keeps it for long, with Dean crawling between her open thighs, hair all fucked up by her hands. He gives her a long caress from her knees up to her waist and smiles again. "Always wanted you in my bed." Is this actually happening?, she thinks, incredulous. "Wh–Yeah?" "Why do you you think I proposed we watch something here?" He winks at her. "Sam wasn't home...I dunno, I felt lucky today." "...and then we ended up yelling at each other a bunch", she adds. Dean huffs a laugh and leans down to kiss her, deep and long enough she forgets what they were even talking about. "Doesn't that just count as foreplay?"  "I don't think so, no." Dean beams at her, eyes glinting with something dangerous. "No? How about this, then?", he says, and licks a hot strip on her neck before sucking a mark there. The sharp feeling of his teeth on her sensitive skin makes her back arch closer to his chest. "Or this?" One of his hands sneaks under her shirt, slow and teasing. Dean's fingers splay wide on her stomach on their way up, and she's never hated a piece of clothing more than her bra when it stops the contact. She wants everything off, wants to feel him really touch her. "Oh, fuck," she gasps. "Dean– Dean, take this off." He groans against her collarbone, voice low and rumbly, before leaning back on his knees. "Mmh, yeah. Yes, ma'am. Can you roll over?" The thought of Dean pressed long and wide along her back makes her toes curl, and she gladly turns around. 

She realizes Uma Thurman is still swinging her katana on the computer screen, so she takes a second to close the laptop. There's the swishing of fabric behind her, probably Dean shimming out of his sweatpants and shirt while she can't see him. She goes to undress as well, but two warm hands on her hips stop her. "No, wait, I wanna do it," Dean says. “‘Kay?” Oh God, this man is gonna be the death of her. "Yes, please."

Dean scoots closer, his knees on either side of hers, erection pressed on the small of her back. He briefly hugs her to his chest while he leaves a kiss on her hair, squeezing a bit before he lets her go. She swallows back a whimper at the feeling – not because it brings any real pleasure, but because of Dean's unguarded desire behind the gesture. He’s slowed down the pace, maybe for her benefit, maybe for his own.  God, she's there, with Dean. Unbelievable. She wants him so much she could cry. 

Nuzzling her neck, he helps her take off her shirt, and then – faster, cause he's seductive, yes, but also earnest and enthusiastic – he unclasps her bra, and it falls on the bed. She gets why he asked her to turn around, conscious that her shyness would, at least at first, follow her even in bed: like this, she can't see him watching, and her instinct to hide from him is stifled.  Not that she had nothing to worry about: Dean just sighs softly and cups her breasts in his hands, a smile splitting his face at how soft and hot her skin is. 

Her leggings go next, tugged down roughly by herself, 'cause suddenly she really, really needs to be naked so he can touch her everywhere.  She leans forward on the bed, face pressing on a pillow as she shimmies out of her pants.  Dean huffs a laugh behind her. "These are very sexy," he comments, hooking his fingers on the edge of her underwear. Which is ridiculous, cause she has on the most boring pair of black undies ever produced.  Goes to show with how little Dean is pleased.  Instead of taking the last piece of offending clothing off, he slides two fingers up and down her folds, pushing in a little through the fabric.  "So wet already," he says, “and I haven't even touched you yet." His voice has gone low and rumbly and that, coupled with his fingers, makes her that much wetter.  “‘Cause I want you,” she mumbles in the pillow, stating the obvious. She rocks backs on his hand, inviting. “You know, I-” “Yeah, baby?” Oh God, he called me baby, she thinks a bit hysterically. She bites back the embarrassment and tries to find somewhere the courage to finish the sentence. “You know, I - I think of you when I touch myself.”

There it is, out in the open. Just how ridiculously attracted to him she is. 

His movements stutter; when she angles her head so that she can see his face, she finds him already watching her with such intense, naked longing in his eyes, she has to feel proud. It’s getting to her head, feeling wanted like this. “What?” he asks, finally sliding off her underwear. He’s already naked, and as soon as the panties hit the mattress she pushes back until she’s flush with him – his erection is pressed in the cleft of her ass, getting smeared with her wetness when she starts undulating her hips. “What- fuck,” Dean tries again, distracted by what she’s doing. “Mmh, what do you think about?” God, she’s burning up, and she’s so damn empty without him inside of her. “I don’t know, uh - Your fingers?” Dean circles an arm around her and sneaks his hand down her belly until he can touch her clit, middle and forefinger forming slow circles in time with her hips. “Yes, yes like that, fuck,” she gasps. She decides, there and then, to tell him a secret. 

“One time, one time we were at that diner together, Sam and Cas were there as well...And you had that red shirt on, and you must have spent some time on your hair, ‘cause it was – I don’t know, Dean, you were just so beautiful. I was sitting right in front of you. You were flirting with the waitress, and I thought, I thought ‘God, what if I took my shoe off, and slid my foot all the way up his leg and then, when he looks at me, confused, pretend I’m not doing anything?’ And I kept thinking about it, ‘cause you weren’t looking at me anyway.  What if I made you hard, there in public, but you had to keep your face straight and not react? And then, what if you grasped my ankle under the table like a warning to stop, but you still pushed back to have more friction, blushing that pretty red when Sam asked you if were okay? And you know what, Dean?” She pauses a second, lost in the fantasy and the feeling of his hands on her. “I would have stopped without a word. I would have left you there, wouldn’t have even acknowledged what I was doing by glancing at you – I would have stood up, with you still hard in your jeans in that cute, family-friendly diner, and I would have said “Sorry, gotta powder my nose” or something just as stupid, to look even more annoyingly innocent –  and then I would have gone to the bathroom. And waited for you to follow me, so you could fuck me in one of the stalls, my hand on your mouth to keep you quiet, hoping against hope that no one would come in, or hear us, or interrupt us before you could cum so deep inside me I would have felt you for days-”

Dean moves away from her, one hand to keep her still. “Okay, okay, that’s- that's enough for now." His free hand is at the base of his dick, squeezing a bit as he calms down. He’s breathing fast, lips bitten red and freckles standing out against the flush on his face. He is, quite possibly, the hottest thing she has ever seen. And she did that. “You little- I think I remember that day, fuck. That’s what you were thinking? Jesus.”  He briefly rummages in the bedside drawer and comes back to the bed with a condom.  “Is like this okay?” he asks, and helps her up from where she was sprawled on the bed.  She considers whether or not her legs will hold her up in this position, and figures that after that spiel she deserves to be a bit of a pillow princess – Dean will hold her up if he needs to. With those strong, muscular arms of his. Mmh, God bless his biceps... So she hums “yes,”  and hooks her feet around his calves to feel him closer. 

She looks back at him as he goes in, and more than the feeling of Dean sliding into her, she'll never forget how his eyes flutter close in a pained frown, like it feels so good it hurts; like he’s somehow surprised by the pleasure.  And then he moves, and her eyes just close on their own at the feeling. Everything’s just burning hot – Dean inside her, his hands touching everywhere on her body, his forehead pressed between her shoulders when he leans down.  “‘Missed this,” he mumbles on her skin. “I always forget how good it is.” 

Which would be, was this a different setting, an unwelcome reminder of how many women have been under him before her. Right now, with him groaning and moaning in her ear? She couldn’t care less.

The pace picks up - and, really, Dean’s a very proportionate man, and, in that position, he goes too deep for comfort. At a particularly hard thrust, she whimpers in pain. “You okay?” he asks, worried fingers moving the hair out of her face.  “Yeah, ‘s okay. Just-” “I hurt you,” he interjects, and helps her up. “Get closer to the headboard? Alright, let’s try it like this.”  On her knees, with her arms balancing her weight on the wall, the angle changes drastically. Dean slides back into her, this time pressed on her in a long line from shoulders to knees, and hooks his chin on her shoulder. “Better?”

“Way better,” she says, and smiles at his happy sigh. 

There’s not much she could tell you about the rest, not without interrupting herself every two seconds by grinning and blushing. It just feels good. It feels amazing.  Dean’s experience is evident in his every move, and he doesn’t let her forget for a second exactly who’s she with –  in that too-hot bedroom with weapons decorating the wall, giving a memory foam mattress a run for its money.  She says his name probably too many times, and some ridiculous praise comes out of her mouth once in a while, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind; he bites her neck too hard, at one point, and it hurts but she loves it, the proof that he has lost himself completely in her body.  And Dean builds her up and up, with his voice and his fingers and his cock, until she shudders and cums around him. 

She briefly loses sense of time, feeling only Dean thrusting into her faster and deeper and with a faltering rhythm – when she comes back to herself, he’s slipping out of her with a groaned “Jesus Christ.”

She lies down on her back, panting as she watches him throw away the condom in a small bin beside the bed. All those good chemicals that come with an orgasm are making her feel more naked than a simple lack of clothes – Dean turns back to her, and she has the impression that he can see right through her skin and bones; that all the feelings that surely will scare him off are sprawled out on the bed like heavy, uncomfortable blanket. 

She feels both amazing and scrubbed raw at the same time. She really needs Dean to take her in his arm before she starts crying, which is becoming more and more probable by the second. 

Instead, his attention falls on his phone, bleeping away on the bedside table. “Twelve messages?”, he says when he picks it up. They’re from Sam, which becomes obvious when he reads them instead of chucking the phone at the end of the bed; she watches him frown as he scrolls down. “Ugh, fuck. It’s Sam; Jody apparently needs back up after all. Five werewolves? Well, shit.”

She doesn’t say anything and busies herself by sliding under the blanket. 

She doesn’t like to think of Jody in danger, but she likes even less where this is going. Dean is putting his boxers back on, and clean clothes from his drawer. Oh, wow, look at all that flannel. Does he have an endless supply or something? “I gotta go,” he explains. No shit, Sherlock. “Hey, it was awesome,” he tells her as he puts a belt on, nonchalant as if he was talking about a very good burger. “Just- awesome. Shit, I’m so late already, Sam’s gonna bitch all the way to Sioux Falls. See you in a few days?” She nods, a bit jaded by the sudden change in scenario – from one with Dean naked in bed with her to one where he’s leaving as if nothing happened –  and he smiles and winks at her. 

And then he’s gone. 

Maybe she spends the next hour on the verge of tears, hugging his pillow and watching the rest of Kill Bill as a distraction, but that’s not really any of your business.  She gets up, eventually, and puts her clothes back on even if the bunker is empty. She does what feels like a walk of shame back to her room and straight to her shower. She washes off, with her favourite lavender-scented soap, all the signs of the past few hours off of her skin. Like it was a random guy. Like it was just a one-off. 

Thank you very much, ma’am, it has been fun while it lasted. 

“I gotta go.”

Well, alright. Goodbye stranger, then. 

❧ ☙

I hope you guys enjoyed it! I cherish every comment and reblog, feedback really motivates me to keep writing <3 I especially appreciate comments on characterization, I tried to keep Dean as IC as possible :) Let me know what you think! 

Tags from @spnfanficpond‘s Tag List under the cut - apologies if I tagged someone who’s not interested in Dean/Reader’s by mistake!

If someone wants to be tagged in the next chapter, let me know <3 

@aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @notnaturalanahi @bkwrm523 @deanscarlett @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess  @frenchybell  @deandoesthingstome  @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @quiddy-writes @supermoonpanda @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @evilskank-inthemegacoven @clueless-gold @bennyyh @winchestersmolder @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @deanwinchesterxreader @winchester-family-business @winecatsandpizza @there-must-be-a-lock @cas-backwards-tie @emoryhemsworth @just-another-winchester

[bellamygateoldblog]

the 100 ofc!

— this gets a little rant-y and may or may not be coherent- currently pulling an all-nighter and it’s literally 5am- that’s it. That’s my excuse.

all time favourite character

IDK man IDK…I wanna say Jasper, maybe Raven

a character I didn’t used to like but do now

I’ll stick Octavia in this one. I actually did like her at first, then i didn’t then i did then i didn’t then i

a character i used to like but now don’t

[ insert every single character here ] Clarke and Bellamy. Clarke lost me very early season 3 and Bellamy is dead to me as of season 6. I’m throwing Miller in here- when he was that delinquent that wears the beanie I could go for that, but now i’m just straight up annoyed by his presence and want him to go away forever. My reluctant liking of Abby turned sour pretty fast, too. Arming a group of children and sending them out into a warzone to find your daughter, then abandoning them once she’s back is really SOMETHING. And hitting Raven while she’s acting Chancellor…i should beat your ass, Abby

a character i’m indifferent about

Wells: poor treatment of MoC and very valid anger aside, truely I don’t see the facination and borderline obsession fandom has with the character himself- he barely existed. Are you all in love with the idea of him, rather? Or the guy from the book? He was literally in this thing for three episodes, we never actually knew him, nor was he even given the chance to develop or have any sort of story. I see so so much hate about Echo and her lack of development and yet in the same breath y’all are talking about missing Wells and oh what a wonderful character he was. Spare me. He was a character full to the brim with potential and unfortunately that’s all he’ll ever be.

Anya and Lexa, too. I don’t really have opinions formed on either of them, nor do I really care to

a character who deserved better

I mean with that minor Wells rant aside and half a step into my hypocrisy boots…Wells did. Lol. I think he absolutely deserved better than to be killed off in order to push a white woman’s story forwards. I think he deserved better than to have been all about Clarke, his entire character about serving her character, even in death. This show has a history of criminally underusing/sideling/killing their most compelling characters, i think Wells would’ve been such a fun addition to the main band, i wonder how his personality would’ve expanded, what could his arcs have looked like? i think about how his dynamics would form and fair, what might he think of Clarke now?

Jasper deserved better than to have become a nihilist’s wet dream. I have mixed feelings about the whole thing, i really do. The creators, some of the fans even, chat about how it’s a gritty reality, sometimes it’s just Like That, and in some ways that’s absolutely right, but in a show of such loss to have this bleak ending for a character like this is just…a bit of an overkill? What’s wrong with hopeful endings? I mean we literally already had a similar scenario occur with Luna a mere episode(s) before. A woman who strives for nothing more than peace loses her faith in humanity and so fights for death. Why they felt the need to kick a dead horse by doing the same thing with Jasper is beyond me.

Listen many character have demonstrated suicidal tendancies at some point or another: Clarke, Murphy, Bellamy, Octavia, Harper and so on, but Jasper is the only one that gets the actual suicide? The character who’s canon mental illness has been more on the explicit and expressed side, the first victim of the ground, the very character who we’ve watched struggle his way through four seasons with an inconsistent or otherwise absent support system, his story ended with suicide. It’s devastating and, frankly, disrespectful. As if he was too far gone to find his way back into the light.

We saw clearly Monty’s reactions to Jasper’s death, but we didn’t see him grieve- he was busy rushing to survive the end of the world. This show loves sidestepping the consiquences of big events they write- there’s always a new threat to face which means everyone gets to move on abnormally quickly. Nobody asked about Jasper in Becca’s lab, we never actually saw anyone except for Clarke find out about this, nobody in the bunker either, not Octavia, and no mentions of Jasper in season five besides Monty begging him to be wrong about humanity. This show isn’t great with handling their deceased either. They want to focus on a fresh plot and not be stuck dragging around that dead weight. Finn isn’t mentioned in relation to Raven despite his importance to her story and of the fact this specific death shook the whole show. Wells’ has been removed from memory despite Clarke being the protagonist who we should know most intimately. I feel most detached from her, honestly. We’ve had a fair amount of Lincoln, though, and a consistantly aggressive reaffirmal of Lexa’s existence. But Jasper just isn’t here. He isn’t talked about. Jasper suffered, and Monty was right there in front of him trying to hand him that peaceful life he always dreamed of, ready to lift him (literally) out of that pain, and he died. Harper got to change her mind last minute, so did Raven, but not Jasper, no, his body went up in flames with the rest of it. The way they filmed the scene was gut-wrenching because of the hopelessness and coldness of it all. And i think he deserved to be spacekru, to heal somewhat up there, and oh what fun would he have been in season five. What would he be like now? What would he think of what became of everyone else? Of Clarke and of Octavia? Again, such wasted potential.

Jasper was one of The 100 on a show named after them, his death brought that to 4, and i can’t emphasise to you enough how big a mistake it was to craft a show around a certain group of people and then abandon that idea entirely. Your show is named something that it isn’t even about!!

Lexa deserved a more respectful death.

Bellamy deserved better than to be murdered brutally by the writers during season 6.

a ship i’ve never been able to get into

Bellarke. Braven. Murven. Clexa. Wicken/Ravick(?). Octabriel. Kabby

a ship i’ve never been able to get over

Becho. Memori. Jasper and Octavia were very sweet

a cute, low-key ship

Linctavia. It was always more of a background ‘ship’ for me. And Marper!

an unpopular ship but i still enjoyed it

Becho and Murphamy

a ship that was totally wrong and never should’ve happened

Flarke

my favourite storyline/moment

favourite storyline(s): delinquents finding a way to live on the ground and mount weather!

Favourite moment: i don’t think i have one TBH

my first thoughts on the show

It was exactly what i was looking for; a post-apoc teen drama, a little corny, a little gritty. I enjoyed season 1, and then 2, but with the constantly rising stakes to absolutely obscene levels eventually, my interest dwindled. By season 4 there was an almost desolate feeling and all the potential this had was dead and buried. They could’ve gone so many ways, done so much more, but for reasons unknown they chose possibly the weirdest and least interesting route available. I really thought they’d exhausted all their story by the end of 4 and i was, of course, absolutely correct since s5 was…more of the same…a literal recycled storyline that had been done not once but twice before it. In season 1 and then again in season 2. Since joining tumblr and fandom and seeing things from a various new angles, reading of social implications and meta on how sections of the writing are flawed, i’ve crafted a more informed and complex opinion than i had as a casual viewer and now see most aspects of the show in a completely different light.

my thoughts now

I’m over it. I think it could be safe to say i hate what it became. Most of my opinions of it now are negative, or at the very least have a critical component to them. I haven’t genuienly enjoyed it since season four and it hasn’t been actually decent since season two. It has a lot of deeper issues engrained into it’s writing, and there was a before when you could criticise those choices and obvious flaws and still be able to enjoy the show as it’s own entity because it existed as one at that time. But now it feels like an empty shell void of all life. With how broken and goofy the writing has become i just can’t take it seriously anymore. Characterisation and consistency have been thrown out in favour of serving the plot many many times before, but season 6 brought this to a whole new low. Dialogue was clumsy and there was a LOT of information dumping, it focused much too heavily on new characters nobody cared about, things were swinging from one extreme to another in terms of character arcs (see: Octavia’s full redemption and transformation basically overnight, and Bellamy switching from set to commit genocide in Clarke’s honour and ‘[we let these people die because] it’s not my fault their delusional’ to ‘let’s do better for Monty i am suddenly King of morality’) and in relationships (see: Bellamy instantly forgiving Clarke and then abandoning everyone and everything to save her, meanwhile he’s demonising Octavia like he’s getting paid for it). The characters just aren’t people anymore, they’re wheels that move the plot forward (in any way that’s required regardless of whether or not it’s actually in line with canon), and let’s not even talk about the science that pushes the envelope too far and Clarke’s insane plot armour. I’ve beaten this rant to death at this point so I won’t get any more into it. But just know: what was once a genuine fondness of this show has turned poisonous since.

[bitchsexuality]

@animaliae

ok first off i’m sorry i took so long to reply!! i’ve been busy in the most tedious way possible so my brain’s not exactly my best friend right now. second off: THANK U SO MUCH these were so fun to answer!!

i’m putting all of these in the same post because i started talking and i could not Shut The Up, and i think one atrociously long post is better than four long posts when it comes to like, scrollability. scrollpastability? scroll-Something. and putting it under a readmore too for the same reasons

SO, from top to bottom:

weirdest character idea for D-N-D:

it’s an idea i’ve already had because i can’t come up with anything right now dksjfgbd, but

once i made a druid for a D//N/D-based CRPG who only cast spells when they gave him something edible (in theory ofc, the game didn’t let me eat my summoned bears... thankfully...), so i ended up with nothing but goodberries and several animal summoning spells. then i proceeded to cheat my way through the game, which defeated the point sdfgsd, but it was still fun concept-wise

also made me spend too much time wondering if the entangle spell’s vines could be eaten. i mean you can’t eat the WHOLE thing but maybe you could like, munch on it a little, or try to slurp it up like a noodle. it wouldn’t be tasty, it wouldn’t be easy, and it most definitely would not be healthy, but it’s like. the principle of the thing 

if ur asking yourself WHY i did that… well there aren’t THAT many D/ND-based CRPGS out there and i’d already played that one —several times, in fact— so i wanted to try something different :0

i mean it’s not THAT weird tbh, but he’s the only OC i can think of right now that soooooort of fits? and my brain is like, a tundra of creativity at the moment. a deep tar pool that absorbs all inspiration and drags it, kicking and screaming, to its viscous doom. well you get the idea. or i hope you do because i sure fucking don’t

ideal ending for one of my characters:

hmmmm for like, original fiction characters i more or less have all their endings planned out? most of them ARE ideal because i am fully in control of their destinies and i am also a softhearted lidle bich who prefers stories with relatively uplifting/happy endings. or tbh even the ones that aren’t technically happy are still ideal in terms of character arcs, development, etc

(i might be giving myself way too much credit there though skdjgbdksjfg)

and —though this is super unlikely and mostly just me deceiving myself at this point— i do want to publish what i’m working on rn, so talking about endings would be a spoiler for something that does not exist and probably never will outside of my idiot fool head. so i’m gonna talk about an old OC that i’m not doing anything with anymore!

her name was elina and her entire deal was that she came from a family of very powerful witches who owned a, uh, i guess you could call it an archive? or a library?? idk, it was just an ABSURDLY large collection of magic-related books, and it pretty much contained all known arcane knowledge (though come think of it, “all known arcane knowledge” can’t have been THAT much because the archive was just one room. a huge fucking monster of a room yeah but like. still just One)

so anyway, her family members were very dutiful + responsible when it came to the archivelibraryroom thing, but they were also too traditional for her tastes? like they didn’t bother practicing/using magic, or experimenting, or looking for anything outside of books; they only cared about written things, and even then they did nothing but get the Very Important Books, put them in the archivelibraryroom and forget about them completely

then elina ran into a group of other magic-users who were investigating a weird phenomenon in her hometown, and she asked her family about it, but they essentially were like “oh if it doesn’t affect the books we don’t care lol anyway it’s your turn to clean the archivelibrary now”

but yeah i’m sure y’all can tell where this is going kjdfgbd elina was the typical YA protag in that she was super rebellious, so she turned her back on her family and left her house to help the group of inconveniently yet stereotypically teenage magic-users, made friends, learned about magic, blah blah blah

the issue is that i never gave that story an ending? like the closest thing to it was a vague “uhhhh elina goes back home to find the archivelibrary is burning down and pulls some kind of mysterious water magic out of her ass to save it; then her family apologizes, they begin to respect her and she stays with them to keep caring for the archivelibrary, But With A Progressive Twist”

the issue was that after writing around two chapters i realized i didn’t actually Have a plot, so i didn’t know what story that ending would be... ending... and since i couldn’t think of anything + i wasn’t THAT attached to the characters anyway i just gave up on it

but now that i’m thinking of it again, just for the sake of ending the Story That Never Was, i feel like making her earn the respect of her family just because she saved the books + proved she actually cares about that too is, idk, shallow? out of character? 

because she believed that her family’s fixation on history + Neatly Documented stuff was holding them back and making things worse for everyone. she left her home behind because her ideals re.: magic —that it should grow and change to fit the context + people’s needs, and not the other way around— were so strong

OOF THIS IS GETTING SO FUCKING LONG KSDJGB i’m just gonna stop here and say: elina’s new ideal ending is pretty much that while she ends up in friendly terms with her family —because, in spite of their fundamental disagreements, they never hurt her— she doesn’t go back home and chooses to travel around the world instead, helping people in whichever way possible and freely sharing her knowledge with anyone who’s willing to listen and, at the same time, learning from them

i mean, the concept’s not too original ksjdbg just something i thought of super quick, and that’s just a half-assed attempt at closure for an OC i made when i was like… 9

headcanons about my favs:

ok this one’s hard because i’m not into any like… fandom things right now? i haven’t found anything that rly interests me or that i could see myself being passionate about, which sucks because i do kinda miss being into stuff with Established Content :( 

so i’ve been focusing on my OCs + original stories and such. and i’m not sure if OC headcanons count as headcanons because i control canon so technically everything i come up with IS canon. then again it’s headcanon too because it’s a canon from my head because that’s where ideas come from. okay wait i’m not making any cents here x 

but uhh knowing me i might think of something right after publishing this, so if that happens i’ll come back and edit this post :0

also just saying but if any of y’all know of something i could get into then lmk, i’m open to suggestions! preferably free stuff though... i’m beset by capitalisms

a favorite scene that i loved:

i can’t remember any in particular right now, either from my #content or somebody else’s SDFKJGBDF god my mind 😔 well i mean i’m gonna be a little bit full of meself and say that i’ve written things that i really like, especially imagery-wise, but i Also want to publish those someday… like i’ve also written original/OC-related stuff that i don’t plan on publishing, but i’m not THAT proud of them tbh :/

i was —emphasis on was— trying to write a short story about jasna (one of my D-N/D OCs, a cleric of oghma) that never really went anywhere, but i did post a snippet on my OC blog, and that’s what i hate the least out of all my recent attempts at writing? so i’m just gonna put it here again ig sdfgs (not actually linking to the OC blog post because it’s kind of a mess rn, i need to fix the theme + clean it up a bit)

if you got this far and read all of this nonsensical verbal monster: i love u with all my heart and i would legitimately die for u.

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 11: Dark World

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Mention of genocide, casual racism, mentions of past death Relationships: Loki x Reader (if you squint) Characters: Loki (Marvel), OFC, Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending, Loki needs to Work on the Racism, Have More Headcanons, Loki is Not Fond of Stephen Strange, Loki is also Not Fond of Reliving Certain Memories Summary: Reader gets an impromptu astronomy/history lesson, but Loki glosses over the important parts, not wanting to dwell on the very history that he himself made

Loki was still reading the Alfar book when you returned, but he set it aside for a moment to inquire about how your check-in went.

“I told him the truth.” You said simply. “I’m not gonna lie to Captain America.”

“Oh, you fancy the old soldier?” He teased.

“I believe in what he stands for.” You said, lifting your chin.

“And what is that? Ah, don’t tell me.” He stood, and began to prowl around you like a cat. “Courage. Nobility. Self-sacrifice. Honor and glory! For God and Country! Amen!”

“Justice.” You said, as he completed his circle. “No more billionaires getting away with slavery and murder. No more cops killing you for having the wrong skin color. No more people thinking there even is a wrong skin color. No more kids going hungry in the richest nation on Earth. No blindly following unjust laws. Standing up, and making your little corner of the world a better place. We wanna believe America is exceptional? Then we have to make it that way. We haven’t, but we could.”

“And what do you bring to that table, little baker?” He questioned. “What’s exceptional about you?”

You had never been anything special. You were average. You had gotten average grades, came from an average part of the country, looked average. You were a hard worker, but you couldn’t be anything less, or you’d be homeless. Average jobs meant starvation wages. You hadn’t gone to college. You’d never stopped studying, but without a degree, all your extracurricular learning meant nothing. What could you have been, if only you’d had the money to make anyone believe in your worth? What could you do?

“I can do magic.” You offered.

“Can you? Why don’t you show me?”

So he was still going to be like that, was he?

You quickly grabbed him by the hand, and reached for a nearby glass. He caught you by the wrist before you could pick it up, and shook his hand loose from yours.

“Okay, yes. But can you do it without our contact?”

“Not yet.” You conceded. “But once you teach me how, I will.”

“So what you’re saying is that, for you to grow and reach your great potential…you need me.”

He fixed you with a positively wolfish grin. It made your stomach flip. You crossed your arms and stared up into his teeth. He just wants you to react.

“Or, you know, that wizard we saw before.”

“That presumptuous dilettante?” He growled. “The arrogant dabbler would have you scrubbing his floors to distract you from his lack of ability! He wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

“And you do?”

“Moreso than that cocksure novice!”

“Sure don’t like him, huh? What’s the deal? Did he scuff up your shoes one time, or something?” Now this was amusing! He sounded like an overdramatic teenager ranting about a rival.

“He’s a swaggering pretender playing with forces he barely understands. A baby given an incredibly dangerous toy. I have had centuries to grow and mature in the Art, he has the equivalent training of picking up a pamphlet and thinking he’s learned everything.”

“Mature, huh? Is that why you turned my hair green?”

He snorted. “It’s not green, you little fool.” He waved his hand in front of your eyes. “Go look.”

You did. Everything was normal again.

“The illusion was not on your hair.” He informed you. “It was on your eyes. Did you think nobody said anything about it out of respect? My brother would have mentioned it, even if no one else did.”

“Okay, I’m…actually less mad about that than I thought I would be. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I can do an untold number of things that you don’t yet know about.”

“Oh.” That sounded mildly threatening. “Well…can you tell me more about Svartalfheim? I couldn’t finish my lesson yesterday, Miss Valkyrie was a little unsure about the details of its recent history.”

He frowned.  “You’re still on about that? I suppose it’s lucky that one of my meetings has been cancelled. But I cannot always waste time on your curiosity. “

“Rude! You think teaching your history is wasting time?”

“I don’t.” He sat down, patting the bench, inviting you to join him. Why did he do things like that? His moods and actions in constant flux. You never knew where he’d be a few moments down the line.

Loki is the trickster of the gods, an untrustworthy god of lies, deceit, treachery and evil. The father of lies and monsters, a patron of misleading actions.

You sat down next to him.

“It’s just that I hate Svartalfheim, and I hate the Svartalfari. Living through events that make it into history books is nearly always unpleasant in some way. But you are so cursed curious, so I suppose I must fill you in.”

He conjured an image of a black, cloudy world, orbiting a dim, eclipsed sun. There were no visible stars. Swathes of dust obscured the already weak light.

“It’s beautiful.” You breathed.

He gave you a look. “It’s dismal. Just look at it. It’s colorless, dry and depressing.”

“But how is it like this? How is the sun like that? Where are the stars?”

“Do you want history or astronomy?”

“Both!”

He sighed. “The galaxy in which Svartalfheim is located contains a great deal of dust and dark matter. Svartalfheim itself orbits a small, young star within an absorption nebula. Do you know what that is?”

“I know what a nebula is.”

“Okay, well there’s more than one kind. This kind does not glow with the light of the stars within it; no light escapes or enters. So, no stars, no constellations, no inkling that there might be someone else out there. There are but two planets in this system, no others have had time to form. There is Svartalfheim, small, dark, dirty. And then there is this enormous gas giant, just barely not a star itself. Both planets are very close to the star, so Svartalfheim is warm, despite the darkness. But by some fluke of development, both planets have the exact same orbital period. Meaning-“ He continued, noticing your slightly confused expression. “-that they have the exact same length of year. And so, this gas giant is forever between Svatalfheim and the star. The eclipse is permanent. A day on Svartalfheim is very long. Long dark days, and long black nights. Do you follow?”

“Stuff’s dark. I got it.”

“Yes. And so, no plants larger than lichens grow. That’s really all they have there. Lichens and mushrooms. The soil is poor, as is the ecosystem. Only a few species can live there, and the majority of those are carnivorous, feeding off small eaters of lichen, and each other. All of this contributes to the overall dreariness of the place. “

“I still think it’s beautiful.”

“Why?” He asked, seeming annoyed that you hadn’t instantly taken up his same dislike of the place. “It’s bleak. It’s empty. It’s hostile.”

“It’s different! It’s new, and young, and we’ve never seen what might live on a young planet. I didn’t even know life could form on planets in such weird circumstances.”

“Midgardian attitudes toward space are rather amusing, do you know that? You all have such a passion for it, but you’ve barely done anything with that passion. It’s as if you are obsessed with looking through your windows, but won’t take but a few steps outside your own door.”

“Well, I mean, we didn’t have a Bifrost, and we need, just, so much air? To survive? I already know we’re less tough and have shorter lives than you all, so that probably has something to do with it. We haven’t been able to build ships that could hold everything we need, and go fast enough to get us places within those short lifespans. And then I think some weird things happen to our bodies when we stay in space for too long? I’m not sure, I haven’t studied it before. Kinda want to now, though.”

“There is a Bifrost here now.” Loki pointed out. “Someday, it will be like our old one, and able to transport people to all of these planets. Svartalfheim is forbidden though, on order of the king. And myself. I’m afraid I can never take you there.”

“Oh. But why not?”

“Because we hate it. Or rather, I hate it, and my brother hates it and also sympathizes with it.”

“You’ve been beating around the bush here. Can’t you tell me what happened?”

“I can. But it’s unpleasant. You know, I assume, of my grandfather’s battle with the Svartalfari?”

“Yeah. And the Aether, and that it came back later in a human lady. Did you meet her?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes…we met.”

“What was she like? She had this stone inside her?”

“She was…interesting. Secretly powerful. You know only a few can handle the stones without terrible consequences. She didn’t exactly handle it, she could not utilize its powers, but she did contain it. If you were to touch one of these things, it would likely consume you entirely, understand? She held it within her body, and all it did was weaken her.

In the end, we rid her of its influence, but it fell into our enemies hands. Behold.”

A small figure emerged. It was entirely white and black; white skin, white hair, white armor that looked carved from bone, all wrapped and strapped in leathery black clothing. It wore an expressionless, hollow-eyed, white mask over its face.

“Okay, that’s creepy.”

“That’s a Svartalfar. Hideous, cave-crawling, hateful creatures.”

“Why do they look like us? Why do they all look like us?”

“What do you mean?” The planet and the person dissipated.

“Vanir, Asgardian, Human, Svart-al-far, we all look the same. Same body shape, same faces. We all have written languages, wear clothes, make fashion choices. Some worse than others. We should all be extremely different from one another, shouldn’t we?”

“Convergent evolution?” He suggested.

“I’m gonna have to look that up. So is that why they’re so pale? Because they live in caves?”

“Precisely. They are very insular, unforgiving of any weakness. They used to war against each other, having no idea there was anything or anyone outside of their tiny star system. They couldn’t do what humans did; they couldn’t look out into the stars and wonder if they were alone or not. When they found out that they were not, they did not react with wonder, or even fear. They have only hatred for anything that isn’t one of them. They try to destroy anything that is not Svartalfari.”

“Okay, but you guys didn’t exactly come with open arms, right? You wanted something that was on the planet, didn’t you?”

He sighed. “Metals. Mostly zinc and silver.”

“Uh-huh. So their first contact with another species was a bunch of warlike invaders who wanted to steal their stuff. But of course, they’re just ‘naturally inclined’ to hate all outsiders.”

“Now I know it seems like that, but we did attempt to open trade agreements first. We saw how poor the ecosystem of the planet was, and offered to trade food with them. Grain and such.”

“Did they not want that? Was it taken as some kind of insult?”

“No, not exactly. It just turned out our food was poisonous to them.”

“Oh no!”

“Yes. Our existence, what we represented-that is, an entire unseen universe beyond what they thought was ‘everything’-upset their cultural understanding of their place in existence. And this death we brought could only be interpreted as a deliberate attack. The Svartalfari are truly immortal, you understand; they can be killed, but they do not die on their own. Old age is an unknown concept to them. Due to this, their birth rate is incredibly low. They had a stable population of only a few tens of thousands, that’s it.

Hundreds died in the initial poisonings. That was when their hatred truly took hold. As the deaths continued, one of them rose to a position of prominence. He spread a doctrine of genocide among his people; that all others were a mockery of what the universe should be. That all others must die. They began by killing the Asgardian miners and merchants, and continued doing this until the armies came. This one man mustered all of his warring people under one cause, and claimed to have a weapon to back him up.

He had discovered the Aether. You know it as an Infinity Stone, the Reality stone specifically. With it, one can influence, or even change reality itself. He intended to use it to revert the universe to its initial state of darkness. It was possible only under a cosmic convergence that brings all the realms into line, and breaks down barriers between those worlds. He thought to use the stone then, to reach as far into the universe as he could, extinguishing the light along the way.

My grandfather and our armies routed them. Nearly the entire species was wiped out, and we left the planet permanently.”

“Didn’t stay for the silver?”

“I think, for perhaps the first time, my grandfather regretted a battle. He certainly liked to fight and conquer, but I do not believe he was genocidal. That takes a…a certain kind of insanity that rarely looks like what it is. So he forbid his people from returning, leaving the planet as a graveyard.

But, of course, they didn’t all die. Their leader, some of his soldiers, and a very few children survived. And so, thousands of years later, they tried again. In search of the Aether, which was within that woman, they actually invaded Asgard.

I was imprisoned at the time. You know, for my oh-so heinous crimes against your world, which my father had abandoned a millennia ago.” He sounded positively venomous for a moment. “You know, they broke all the other criminals out. Offered to free me, but…I just didn’t take the opportunity. You know, I think I still believed I’d be forgiven in time.  ‘Look Father! I had the chance, but I didn’t take it! I still have some honor after all!’ Hmph.” He grimaced. “The Svartalfari invaders murdered the queen while I stayed in a cage.”

And there was the reason their mother had never been mentioned. She wasn’t here. You opened your arms almost on reflex. Who had hugged him after that?

His hand was on your forehead in an instant, halting your compassionate advance.

“Spare me.” He said dryly. “It wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me that day.”

“What?”

“Well of course we sought revenge. Did you know my brother and Heimdall are traitors to the Crown? It was never just me. We broke so many laws together. Ah, good times. We headed right to Svartalfheim, got the Aether out of that woman, and tricked the Svartalfari easily. And then I was killed, and left behind on that miserable place.”

“What?” You repeated.

“Obviously I wasn’t completely dead, but I was very close. It certainly seemed like it; enough to fool absolutely everyone. Including myself. But I am Aesir, and I did not die. Oh, but they did. All of the invaders. I ended the life of my mother’s killer, but if I could have taken the head of every remaining member of the species, I would have.”

“Genocide takes a certain kind of insanity-“ You began to repeat his earlier words.

“Yes. It does.” He stared at you, face sharp and serious. “My brother has once again forbid contact with Svartalfheim. Any who survive may someday rebuild the species. I cannot bring myself to care.”

“Your highness.” You said firmly. “You should allow me to hug you.”

He gave you a long, silent side-glance.

“You do not command me, tiny mortal.” He proclaimed darkly. But he did lift his arm, and look away, giving you the opportunity to wrap your arms around his middle.

You took it.

[stopforamoment]

Part Seven: Demonstrations (Series 18, Part 7 of 9)

Series Eighteen: The Conference, Day One (9 Parts) Part Seven: Demonstrations (Series 18, Part 7 of 9) My masterlist is at the end of my bio.

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OC Rinda Parks Word Count: 1,208 Rating: M for Language Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh. Thank you @asherella-is-a-dork-3 for always being my sounding board! Thank you @cora-nova @silviasutton1989 @bobasheebaby​ @riseandshinelittleblossom​ for being my thirsty Bastien friends and for still being a part of the journey! Series Summary: This focuses on day one of the conference and Rinda’s interactions as a professional, friend, and girlfriend.

Chapter Summary: We learn a little more about Rinda’s grandpa and events from her life in Wisconsin. This series takes place in the beginning/middle of November, before the French Yellow Vests demonstrations that started November 17, 2018. My thoughts and prayers to everyone who is affected by these events.

Demonstrations

“So Tria, you told me that you only know conversational French and that you learned it from Grandma Lorinda.”

Rinda nodded. “True story. My grandpa was born in France but came to America when he was a child, and his parents encouraged him to assimilate as quickly as possible. He wanted to know more about his homeland and culture, but his parents were adamant that he Americanized as soon as possible. They came when the depression hit France, around 1931, before the U.S. clamped down on its immigration quotas. They wanted to leave a lot of bad memories from their war behind and just have a better life, achieve the American Dream. “Anywho . . . he died when I was pretty young, so Grandma Lorinda was only able to pass along the basics. And even then, she spoke French with a very heavy German accent and it was very dated, from the 1940s. Those are some of the reasons I don’t consider my French to be very good—and why Nadia has so many great stories about my gaffs.”

Nadia gave her friend a warm smile. “Actually, Rinda’s French isn’t as bad as she says it is and she picked up a lot from our trips. It’s just that our trips to France were cross-categorical. It would be a literature class through the English department, an immersion experience through the foreign language department, and a chance to research a historical location for the history class. We would have students read boring academic articles in French, and that’s where Rinda struggled.” Nadia shrugged. “We all struggle with that boring shit, even though part of being an academic is to pretend to love—and understand—that crap.”

“So where would you go, and Nadia, do you still do the tour with students?”

Nadia smiled at Drake. “Château des Milandes. It’s in France’s Aquitaine region, near the Dordogne River.” Nadia laughed. “And before you even ask, it’s about a six-, maybe seven-hour drive from Paris. At one point the château was owned by Josephine Baker, who was a prominent entertainer during the Harlem Renaissance.” Nadia nodded toward Rinda. “That’s Rinda’s main area of study, although she also helped me teach some of the French classics.”  

Rinda nudged Bastien and whispered in his ear. “She did a famous banana dance. True story!” Then she winked, knowing how much he hated bananas.

Nadia arched her brows but turned back to Drake. “She used the château during World War II to hide Jewish refugees and stash weapons for the French Resistance. That’s where the history department focused, and Rinda helped with that too.” Rinda quickly interrupted before Nadia could say anything else. “Yup. I’m a history dork and my grandpa was born in that area. I seriously geeked out in the historical records building whenever we went.”

Drake laughed. “So what did you do, Nadia?”

Nadia waved her hand in the air and assumed an air of ennui.

“I got drunk on wine, ate good food, and spoke French. That was my cultural contribution.” She smirked. “But all of that is over. Too many budget cuts, so I moved back to France. My wife is an American and was reluctant to leave, but it was the best choice we ever made.” She looked at Rinda. “I know things weren’t easy when you left, and I missed you, but you left at the right time. From a professional standpoint, there’s nothing left for you there and everything for you here.” She reached across the table to squeeze Rinda’s hand. “I’m so happy for you.”

“And I’m happy for you and Kathleen.”

The ladies smiled before Nadia turned back to Drake. “Your question about if we do the trip anymore. Since I’m not at the university I won’t do the trip anymore, but I don’t even know if they can do the trip for very much longer because of budget cuts and limited course offerings. And especially this year.”

Rinda nodded. “Jacques called me a few days ago to check if people from the university were still making the trip. A lot will happen between now and January, but he was worried about us. It sounds like there are constant demonstrations in Marseille and although we should be safe by the château he didn’t recommend going into Paris with students. Even during the week.”

Rinda felt the slight change of Bastien’s body posture when she said that, so she continued the conversation. “Nadia, what have you heard?”

Nadia smiled. “Well, you know me and Kathleen. We do plan on joining a gilets jaunes demonstration next Saturday. I want to make a difference without violence and I want to be a part of such a historical movement. I haven’t done anything like that since Act 10.” She sighed. “I’m opposed to Macron, but I’m not an extremist. I want to be supportive, but I’m sure it will go on longer and be more violent than we are prepared to deal with.”

Act 10. One of Scott Walker’s first acts as governor of Wisconsin, the start of the teacher demonization and the beginning of the end of the state’s education system as Rinda knew it. No more collective bargaining for teachers, so thousands of teachers went to the state capitol to protest. Rinda went for one day, on a weekend, to be a part of the experience. She didn’t want to leave her classroom, and even though it was exhilarating to be a part of something so big and so historical, she was afraid the entire time. Many people brought their children so they could experience the history. Perhaps if Henry were older she would have brought him, but it only took one person to destroy a peaceful demonstration. It was always in the back of her mind, and it terrified her.

Jameson went too, for several days. Extra security was needed to protect the protesters, so local departments across the state sent officers to help. Jameson walked the halls while protesters slept, making sure they were safe and their personal belongings were secure. It only took one person to start a chain reaction that would turn a demonstration into an insurrection. There was one day when Jameson had to stand next to piles of protesters’ personal belongings “to guard them.” But Jameson saw the bomb sniffing dogs carefully examine every pile. It only took sick fuck, with one explosive device . . .

It was a lot of overtime pay and they squirreled it away, knowing Rinda’s job security was in question for as long as Walker remained governor. But Rinda was relieved when the demonstrations were over, even though nothing changed and Act 10 still happened. Jameson was home safe with her and Henry.

In Wisconsin they were lucky. But in France? “Nadia, please be safe. You and Kathleen.” She shrugged, her way of trying to physically shake a bad feeling. “When it’s finally over we all need to make a trip to Château des Milandes. Laura too. And this time just wine and good food. No students. I might even limit my geek out in the historical records.”

Bastien smiled as he leaned down to kiss Rinda. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

[crashdevlin]

Bottle- 4: Mine

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version), I work in info from the comics (Like Hawkeye was married to Mockingbird and Red Skull had a disappointing daughter) and I took a few liberties with what the scepter could do (but not really because the Mind Stone was used to create the Twins so what I did is not that far-fetched). This is a lot more angst than I realized when I wrote it, but it’s compelling angst.

Summary: Cassandra Campbell is a Stark Industries lab tech with dubious genetics and a history with the new Director of SHIELD. She’s been working in New York since right before the Chitauri invasion. What does she have to do with Loki, and what will happen when he returns? Starts post TDW and continues to the end of AoU.

Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x OFC (Past), Loki x OFC (Non-con), Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC

Word Count: 3729

Story Warnings: So many, worst (to me) are bolded. Younger woman/older man relationship, non-con, mutilation, torture, mind control, PTSD, depression, alcoholism, forced abortions, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, memory manipulation, eventual consensual oral sex (female and male receiving),

Chapter Warnings: non-con (past), mutilation (past), torture (past), PTSD, depression, alcoholism, possessive Loki, mind control, mentions of a forced abortion

Cassie went through her closet, full of modest dresses and high-necked blouses, and picked out her most modest dress, a light brown 3/4 sleeve with a loose turtleneck. She put on opaque black tights and lined her eyes with brown liquid liner, and added a cream-colored eye shadow. Cassie added a wine-red lipstick to pop against the neutral color scheme. Looking in the mirror, she felt she looked gorgeous in a classical way.

At exactly 7:30, a knock came to her door. She opened it for Steve, who was dressed in slacks and a light blue button-up shirt. He offered her a bouquet of three deep-red Gerbera daisies with a smile. "You look beautiful. This look, it kinda reminds me of... girls from my day."

"Modesty works for both of us, then." She said, setting the flowers on the table next to the door and walking out. She closed the door and followed Steve to the elevator, where he pressed ‘L’. As the lift started moving she smiled to herself. “So, be honest, did you wait in the hall for a few minutes so you could knock exactly at the half hour?”

Steve chuckled. “No. I did wait in the lobby until 7:28, though.” He admitted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The look on the Colonel's face when Bucky and I walked into camp with all those POWs behind us, it made the whole thing worth it."

Cassie giggled. "Wow. That is great. You know, I've heard that story 'cause my ex was a bit of a fanboy, but it's so much better from you."

"So, what about you?" Steve asked, taking a polite sip of his water and then setting it back onto the table. "Any interesting stories from your life?"

Cassie shook her head. "No. I spent my ten years in a Hydra lab, then I spent my ten years in a SHIELD lab at the Fridge. Then I spent two years in Cali, and I’ve been here for a little over one. Never really made any waves or created any stories."

"What, no one has ever died in your labs?”

“Well, Hydra lab… probably, but I don’t remember it at all.”

“I wasn’t expecting an actual answer, Miss Campbell." He said, laughing. "So, why don't you tell me about your SHIELD agent ex?"

Cassie’s face sobered. "What do you mean?"

"Well, this modesty of yours isn't an act. It isn't entirely something that Loki thrust upon you. You are naturally modest and shy. So, you wouldn't have been so forward as to be with someone unless you were absolutely comfortable with them: the comfort of years. The only people you were around long enough to build that kind of rapport with were SHIELD agents."

She blushed and looked at her lap. "You don't get enough credit for your brain, Steve."

"Behind the times doesn't mean stupid."

Cassie took a deep breath and smiled, deciding on a mostly-true version of events. "I met him on the jet when Fury was taking me to the Fridge. He was taking some weapon to be locked up. He called me 'Jo' because Joanna is an old lady name.” She gave a small chuckle thinking about being ten years old, finally getting a real name, getting her first nickname. “He gave me a blanket when it got cold on the plane. He was nice to me, when no one else really was. He’s the first person I can ever remember being nice to me. I didn't see him again for 5 years but he apparently intervened on my behalf with Fury a few times. Ultimately, my stay in the Fridge was much nicer because of him… and once I'd learned how to read and write, Fury let us be pen pals."

"Pen pals? That takes me back."

"Well, I wasn't allowed tech in my cell. Everything had to be on paper, checkable. Not like I had an email in the first place, or really knew what email was. Anyway, he got a promotion from what he was doing, which was tracking down alien tech, to being in charge of several labs. That put him in charge of my yearly exams. So, we kept writing but I got to see him a bit, a couple times a year. After my year 17 exam, he started writing me more often... and it was different, you know, the tone. He didn't see me as a kid anymore, I guess. He started coming by more often to see me and then, one day, he just kissed me."

Steve raised his eyebrows, slightly. "Fury must have been livid."

She nodded. "Yeah. He ordered us not to see each other and set Maria Hill on a collision course with us. My ex kept writing, though and when Fury finally let me out into the real world, he defied orders to come be with me."

"So, what happened? He's not around now."

She scoffed, derisively. "He found someone else. Someone closer to his age. I mean, she was still younger, but… only by a few years. She was a woman who knew more about the world than just what she'd read in books. I saw a picture of her... online. She's pretty gorgeous, but she's modest-looking, too. I could see how he would fall out of love with me for her."

"You still love him, though?" It was less a question and more a statement.

Cassie shrugged. "First love never dies, does it? I'm sure you have a memory of a girl long gone who you can't ever have. Doesn't make you love her any less."

Steve nodded. "Well, maybe it's not too late. He might still realize his mistake."

She shook her head. "Not likely. He was in the facility when Loki came through the Tesseract."

He pursed his lips. "I'm sorry."

"It's not like he was mine when he died."

"Doesn't make it hurt any less." Cassie nodded. Steve looked around the restaurant. "I think this is probably a pretty bad topic for a first date." Steve mused.

She gave a genuine smile. "Well, pardon my not knowing the etiquette."

"I don't know much more than you." He admitted.

She chuckled. "Well, we seem to be doing all right."

"Yeah. We are."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve walked her to her apartment, hands behind his back. Once they got to the door, they turned to each other.

"You know, I wasn't expecting much from tonight, but... I really enjoyed myself, Steve. You are a breath of fresh air in a world full of guys just trying to get laid. You are a total gentlemen, without the misogynistic undertones: the whole Mad Men thing." Cassie rolled her eyes at herself. "Point is, I had a lot of fun."

Steve nodded with a smile. "Me too. I mean, I haven't had this much fun since the 40s."

This drew an honest laugh from the woman. "From anyone else, that would sound pathetic, but from you, I take that as a high compliment."

"It is, Cassie. One of the highest I am prepared to give. Maybe, we could do it again, sometime, for our benefit instead of Loki's." He said, a bit awkwardly.

"I would really like to, Steve..." She started, unsure of herself because she honestly wanted to but she wondered what that emotion meant when held up against the way she felt for Clint.

"Oh, it's fine either way." Steve said, covering himself from the rejection. That shy act made up her mind.

"That's the end of the sentence. I'd really love to, Steve."

Steve smiled, brightly, showing all those perfect white teeth. "Well, let me know if you have any issues. I will be right upstairs with Tony, keeping an eye on your apartment."

"I'll make sure to change for bed in the bathroom, then."

He chuckled. "Well, have a nice night." Steve said, before leaning down to kiss her cheek.

She walked into her apartment, misty-eyed, with her hand over her cheek. "Just marching through the Avengers roster, aren't you? Who is next? Banner seems lonely and Romanoff seems up for anything."

She turned to her bathroom, her throat going dry, all the happiness draining out of her. Loki was sitting on the edge of her tub. She reached her hand into her purse, feeling for the orb. Loki moved his leg to show the sceptre leaning against her bathroom wall. "I wouldn't." He warned.

"How'd you know where the cameras are?" She whispered.

"Your patriotic friend would never allow Stark to completely blanket this place in cameras."

"So, what? You have to know that I have other ways of alerting them to your presence."

"3 minutes. That's what it will take for Stark to put on his suit and come to your rescue. Rogers will have to wait on the lift. You will be mine again long before they make it here." Loki said, matter-of-factly. He stood, picking up the sceptre.

"JARVIS, door!" She shouted, running for the living room. Her front door swung open as she heard Loki moving behind her. She ran for the elevator, not deterred as a copy of the god popped up in front of her. Unfortunately, her short legs and the 3 inch clogs she chose to go with her vintage dress proved to be too much of a hindrance and Loki quickly caught up with her, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around. He touched her chest with the sceptre and she stopped dead.

He smirked as he looked down at her. "Your date will be exiting those doors in a moment, Joanna. We cannot risk letting him get the better of you. You don't have his training… yet. Let's make haste to the end of this hall." He gestured way from the elevator with the scepter.

"Stark will be waiting outside those windows. If I may..." Loki nodded, proud of how quickly this strong-willed woman turned. She walked purposefully to the elevator. "JARVIS, stop the elevator car for me, but open these doors."

"Of course ma'am, but I will have to inform Mr. Stark of this occurrence."

"That's fine, JARVIS, thank you." She turned to Loki as the elevator doors opened to an empty shaft. "Stark gave me voice controls over the elevator. We should have time to get to the basement levels and out of the building through the sewer systems before he has JARVIS let Rogers out."

She reached a pale hand up to grab her collar, before ripping it off in a long strip, which she pulled in half. She wrapped the pieces around her hands, tucking the ends to prevent them unravelling. "Hold onto my shoulders, mi'lord."

Loki complied, an awkward configuration due to their height difference, but the formerly modest woman didn't seem to notice as she jumped to the elevator cables like a cat and started slowly sliding down them. Her clunky shoes caught most of the friction, a sickening smell of burning rubber and leather wafting up and making Loki's nose wrinkle.

As they reached the halfway point in their journey down, the sound of glass breaking above them hit their ears, right before the elevator began its descent. Cassie let the pressure off of her feet and slid down the rest of the way. She pulled open the sub basement elevator door and led Loki into the sewers as she unwrapped her hands. As she threw her wraps to the ground, Loki noticed large burns across her palms, but she ignored them as she continued along her planned extraction route.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, Loki wins. He's going to get his army, after all." Bruce shook his head, sadly.

"Not if we can get her back before she can replicate the serum. Which, being honest, she's likely to fail at." Tony reasoned. “I mean, how many other real scientists have tried since Cap’s days?”

"And how do we plan on getting her back? He's possessed her again. She won't even want to be saved. She's going to be working against us." Natasha seemed apathetic, but there was an edge to her voice.

"Not by choice.” Steve reminded. “If I could manage to get Bucky to recognize me after Hydra wiped his mind, maybe we could get Cassie to."

"What, appeal to her humanity? Her memories? We barely know this girl." Widow said.

"I think I got to know her pretty well last night. I think there is a lot in her that we could appeal to if we had the chance."

"We just need to bash her on the head real hard." Clint said, causing everyone to turn to him. He shrugged and looked back to the arrow in his hand, which he was sharpening. "It fixed me."

"Have to find her first." Stark said.

"I might be able to provide assistance in the endeavour." A booming voice came from the doorway.

"A well-timed assist from the thunder God. How's Asgard?" Tony said, turning to the Asgardian.

"It is well. All realms are harmonious in the wake of Malekith's demise. Except Midgard, of course, which seems to enjoy chaos."

"Well, no wonder your brother wants Midgard." Natasha mused.

"Yes. Loki died in my arms on Svartlefheim, but it must have been an illusion concocted in order to avoid being taken back to prison.” Thor turned to Steve. “I'm mortified that my gullibility has caused this pain. I promise we will get back your woman, Steven."

Clint kept his attention on sharpening his arrows tips as Steve blushed. "She's not my woman, Thor. We only went on one date."

"And he didn't get nearly as far with her as Barton did."

Clint calmly blew on the tip of an arrow. "Natasha, you petty bitch."

Natasha gave a small smirk. "I didn't know it was a secret. You did know you were on camera."

"That's why she hesitated." Steve muttered under his breath.

"This isn't important. What's important is that Loki has her." Everyone stared as Clint dropped his feet from the back of the chair in front of him. "Look, I've known her for years longer than any of you. I've been flirting with her for a week. She was not at all surprised when I kissed her. She liked it. She just didn't want me to stay."

"Wait!" Thor said, staring at the screen and completely ignoring the human drama behind him. "Reverse the flow of this image."

Tony hit a button on his tablet and rewound the video. Thor put his hand up when it got to the point where Cassie ripped the collar off of her dress. "There. Stop."

The Avengers squinted at the Asgardian runes clearly visible once she'd thrown modesty to the wind. "So, what's it say?" Tony asked.

"It is a gruesome, antiquated Asgardian ritual, similar to your ring of engagement. The translation is approximately 'The bearer of the children of Loki, God of Lies'. This girl, is she special?"

"Uh, she's like me. Super strength, amazing reflexes, accelerated cellular regeneration." Steve responded.

"Then she may survive." Thor said, smiling as he turned to the rest of the Avengers.

"Survive what?" Banner asked.

"While Loki appears similar to you and I, that is just a bit of our mother's magic. He is by birth of Jotunheim, land of the Frost Giants."

"And I take it they aren't called giants ironically?" Stark already knew the answer.

"Not at all."

"Great, so now we have the time crunch of saving her before he re-consummates their marriage and puts a baby in her that's gonna destroy her insides." Clint said, exasperated.

"They'll be looking for a lab. She promised him an army, that'll take precedence." Widow reasoned.

"I've got an idea.” Barton said, standing. “It might take a bit of time. Hill, I'm going to need contact with Fury." Barton turned to Hill, who had been unnoticed standing in the back.

"Why?"

"Because SHIELD may be dead but Fury is not and I'm not disobeying a direct order without at least letting him know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha walked up to Steve at the coffee maker as the other Avengers milled around the Tower. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to make a spectacle about it. I just didn't want you getting hurt. She's the first one you've opened up to since they thawed you out." She said as Steve poured himself a cup.

"It's fine. I was a bit mad at first, but... Barton has been wearing her down for a while, and she told me that she wasn't expecting to have a good time with me. It was supposed to be pretend so I understand her keeping her options open to his intentions.” Steve took a drink of his coffee and shrugged. “But she chose me, Natasha. Not in any permanent or especially important sense, but.. I asked her to go out with me again and she said 'yes', even after her whole event with Clint. That means something."

"Maybe she wanted to have you both?" Natasha could tell from the smell that Steve had made the coffee 'Army strong'.

Steve shook his head. "That's not her style. She's shy, reserved, not a two-timer. She wanted to date me. She wanted respect, not someone aggressively trying to bed her."

"I just want you to remember that you have only been on one date with this girl. You barely know her."

"I will keep that in mind, Natasha."

**********************

"All right, talked my plan through with Fury, he seemed convinced. We are gonna head to the Playground." Clint said as he walked into the lounge half an hour later.

"Which is?" Banner asked.

"Top secret base in a location I can't tell you. It's got a lab with everything Cassie would need to analyse her blood. Loki will be watching us, we lead them there."

"Why the hell would we lead them there if it’s got everything she needs?" Tony asked, his eyebrows pulling close to each other.

"Because there is a small group of SHIELD agents there, one of 'em is very important to her."

"Her ex? She said he died." There was a break in Steve's voice. He'd been lied to.

"He did, but this is SHIELD we're talking about. They brought him back with an experimental procedure based on alien tech. He's alive and mostly well. She sees him, remembers who she is, we fuck up Loki. Pretty simple." Clint ran down the plan quickly.

"How do you know who her ex was?" Rogers asked, defensively.

"I've known her for years." Barton dismissed.

"You keep saying that, but she doesn't have friends, Clint. She didn't take any personal mementos from her apartment except a blanket and a photo album. She doesn't have people, Barton." Tony clarified.

"I said, I've known her for years, not that we've been friends. It was my job to know her, everything about her."

"She was a mission." Natasha wasn't asking.

"She was the daughter of Red Skull and she was fucking a high level SHIELD agent. Fury would've been an idiot to let her out into the world without surveillance." Clint snapped.

"So your job was to follow a twenty year old girl and her boyfriend around?" Bruce seemed appalled.

"Just her, and only until she left him. Fury didn't feel she was worth the manpower afterwards. He thought I was of better use on the Tesseract project."

"She said he found someone else." Steve sighed, upset about the way she’d lied, but also that Fury had been watching her.

"He did, but he wasn't going to dump her. He isn't the type to break hearts. She saw that he'd be happier with the other woman, so she got a transfer to New York while he was on a mission. Dear John note and all that. Now, can we focus? Playground Base."

"Grab a go bag and suit up." Tony announced.

Widow walked up to Clint as he packed his bow and arrows of many different types. "So, did you decide that you wanted to get her in bed while you were spying on her for Fury or after?"

Clint didn't turn to the arrogant-sounding woman behind him. "I watched this woman for almost two years, Nat. I know her. Probably better than she knows herself. I watched her learn to live in the real world for the first time. I watched her thrive. I saw her match wits with the men in Stark's labs and I saw them begin to love her. I watched her become better and better." He straightened and looked the Russian in the eye. "I watched her swell with excitement when she learned she had created life with the only man she'd ever loved. And I watched her decide not to tell him, not to use that child against him, so that he could be happy with someone else. I saw her take the three material things she gave a damn about and sandwich them between the few outfits she could fit in her suitcase and leave everything else behind. I watched her write that letter. I could recite it to you if I wanted. She blamed herself 'cause she didn't want him to feel guilty. She is this amazing, intelligent, beautiful, selfless woman and I handed her to Loki."

The regret in his voice made Natasha falter. The petty feeling she'd been holding onto disappeared. "You didn't have any control of that."

"Yeah, I can use that for most things. I can write off the things I did in the past because I'm making up for them now. I can ignore the things I've done for SHIELD because the ends justify the means. I can forget the men I killed, the things I did under Loki's thrall because it wasn't really me, but not this. Not her." Clint shook his head. "There is no redemption on this. Loki took this perfect woman and broke her. This isn't about bedding her, Natasha. It's about fixing her."

"And if Steve is the tool to make those repairs?"

Clint looked down. "Then he is. Or Phil is. If it's not me, so be it. I just can't leave her undone."

Natasha nodded and Clint began to walk away. "And the baby?"

He turned back, slinging the bag and his bow onto his back. "Loki couldn't have his woman carrying another man's child. Why do you think he was so rough?"

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages Chp 40

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x OFC Ana Rios

Summary: Bucky Barnes agrees to participate in Deprogramming Sessions. What he gets is not anything like he expected.

Warnings: Language. Marshmallow fluffiness. 

Words: 4.1k+   @justreadingfics @nerdyandproud9 @buffy-morgendorffer-01

Once they're back inside, Ana relieved after their little conversation, she sits Bucky down again. Janice shoots her a reprimanding look, knowing full well it's because of how she was acting earlier. Ana ignores the expressing, focusing as she places the small monitoring devices on Bucky now bare torso. 

She reads his vitals on the screen, all seeming normal until Ana places her hand on his chest. A little smile graces her lips as she watches the numbers of his heart rate slowly climb up. When she looks back at him, Bucky has a sheepish smirk on his face. He shrugs, putting his right hand over hers.

"That's what happens when I'm around you. That's what you do to me." Bucky confesses, keeping his voice low.

The husky rumble of his tone shoots straight through Ana's body, settling deep into her bones and sends a shiver up her spine. It's the tone he uses when they're alone, typically when they are alone in bed, naked and pressed together. Ana is suddenly glad she isn't the one hooked up to the machines, otherwise they'd betray her own heart rate. 

Leaning over, she kisses his lips, keeping it soft and sweet. Beneath her palm, his heart pounds in his chest, feeling his warm breath fanning against her cheeks. There's a quiet beeping noise from her left, the machine signaling that Bucky's vitals are spiking a little high to his standards. Ana chuckles against his mouth.

"Gotta calm down there, Sergeant." She whispers into his lips. Bucky brings his left hand to her hip, gently squeezing a part of her that isn't sore. She kisses him three more times, then pulls back.

"Right. I probably shouldn't touch you while doing this." She chuckles.

"Can't help it." Bucky responds, shrugging unashamed.

Ana rolls her eyes fondly, gently tugging at his hair. She takes his bionic hand in hers, kissing each metal knuckle before placing his hand back on his thigh. Ana instructs him to do his breathing counts to calm himself. After several seconds, the beeping dies down, and the monitors seem to be satisfied.

"Alright," Ana begins, "Normally during Healing Sessions, I tell whoever I'm working with to think of something that relaxes them. Something that grounds them, that makes them feel at home, or something that makes them happy. Then I'll reach out for those feelings and keep that positivity around them longer."

"Wait." Bucky hesitates, his eyebrows twitching together. "You're not going to switch my energy around are you? You can't, Ana. Not after-"

She shakes her head. "No, no. Not this time, I promise. God, Pepper would kill me, and she would leave her meeting to march over here and....no."

"I met her." He says, eyes widening slightly.  It's the classic look of someone who just met her cousin.

Ana rubs her lips together to keep from laughing. "Was she harsh?"

"Not at all. Well, she sort of yelled at me when I told Stark to..." He trails off.

"To blow your arm off?" Ana finishes for him, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. "Yeah, about that, mister."

A smirk pulls at his lips. "I've already had one lovely Potts woman tell me off because- how would that make Ana feel when she wakes up. I'd really not want to endure another."

Ana drops her arms, she smiles . "Made you sweat a little bit, didn't she?"

"For some reason, you dames forget you are threatening an elite super soldier."

"She made you sweat."

Bucky's eyes widen again as he nods. Ana laughs. "Alright. Healing time."

"Okay."

"I won't use energy for this, but I am going to try something a little different. Janice is close by in case anything happens. To you or me, if it becomes overwhelming." Ana takes a breath. "I want to go through the trigger words."

She's gets the exact reaction she expected from Bucky. His expression morphs into a worried, nearly outraged look, but she quickly holds her hands up.

"Slowly." She reassures him. "This isn't in the lab or that chamber, Bucky. We're going to take this as slow as possible. It's just me, well, and Janice, here, but I locked the doors and Max is standing down the hallway just in case. As is Sam, because he's suddenly protective at the moment."

"It's for you." Bucky tells her, craning his neck to see if he can spot Sam.

"Actually, I think he's here for you, babe. Don't think I haven't seen that friendship forming."

Bucky shrugs casually. Ana really wants to kiss him again, but that will make Janice scold her like a three year old who can't keep their hands off candy. Well, maybe she can't. Instead, she grabs a rolling stool and sits in front of him.

"So. I've been thinking it over since I first read those triggers." Ana informs him, bring Bucky's focus back to her. "I'm not sure if each word has a meaning as to why they choose them. They could just be random, or not. I won't even begin to understand the minds of those disgusting, horrible, heartless, soulless, pieces of shit that-"

"Annie." Bucky interrupts her softly, a rueful smile on is lips.

"Sorry." Ana shakes her head and exhales. "I want to try to associate these words with meaning, but in a good way. Eventually, I want you to be able to hear those words, and ground yourself. So you're able to take back control of your own mind. We don't have a fancy machine here yet to help with that, but we have something better."

Bucky quirks his right eyebrow.

"Willpower. Drive. That fight inside you that never faded away. We are going to use that instead."

"There you go with that faith of yours again." He quips, a soft laugh escaping his mouth like he still can't believe it.

"It's never changed." She tell him firmly. "Ready to begin?"

Ana can recite those triggers words by heart now. It's much safer than carrying around that damned red book. She glances at the advanced screen of the monitors, double checking that Bucky is in a state of calm. Everything appears good and when she looks back at Bucky, he offers her a reassuring smile.

"You need to take a nap after this." He tells her, keeping his vice soft.

"With you?"

Bucky's eyes soften. "If you want."

Ana nods, returning his smile. "All these words obviously have definitions. Despite that, people tend to take words and make it own, or associate the words with meaning. It can be an object, a feeling, a person, a memory, anything. That first word translates into; Longing."

Bucky nods along as he listens to her. She scrutinizes his expressions, keeping a sharp eye on anything that might be painful or triggering.

"Do you have a longing for something, Bucky?" She questions quietly. "Maybe something you want. Or something you miss?"

It take a while for Bucky to consider her question. Which is good, it's fine, since they are in no rush here, and the sole purpose of this is to help heal him in any way. A distant look washes over his eyes, as if he's getting lost in sea of faded memories. The machine doesn't deep, Bucky's vitals remain steady, but Ana begins to feel a prickling at her skin.

It's not bad, per say, it feels more like...sadness. Feels like a dull ache of something that used to be a painful wound, but has faded into a scar. A phantom pain. It feels like the pain of someone moving on from a lost loved one. Moving on, but never forgetting that ache in the heart. Ana understands that feeling all too well.

"Family." Bucky murmurs. His voice matches the distance in his eyes. His eyelashes flutter and he makes eye contact with her. "I think I long for my family. It's been decades and realistically I know they're long gone by now, but." He shakes his head as if he's clears the memories away. "When I can gather those memories, I miss them. I long for them to know I'm here now, safe, with you."

Ana wasn't expecting that last part, and she can't help the flutter her heart just performed. Bucky chuckles quietly.

"I remember, talking to my youngest sister about that Expo where-" His smile drops for a moment, guilt flashing his eyes. "Where Howard Stark showed off that floating car. I wish I could have brought her with me, but it was past her bedtime and my mother wasn't having it."

This is only the second time Bucky has ever mentioned his family. Ana is honored that he is willingly sharing this with her, recognizing how comfortable Bucky has gotten with her over the past months.

"It was the night before I left. I snuck into her room and left the little pamphlet on her night table. She loved science as much as I did...do. Still. I think. All this technology stuff is awesome as hell."

Reaching up, Ana gently presses her fingertips to his right temple. She can feel his emotions, just slightly as she isn't trying to exert herself. She taps her fingers against his skin, honing the sad, yet happy memory there. Bucky blinks twice,  then takes her hand.

"Whoa. What was that?" He's peering at her fingers in awe.

Ana pokes his nose. "Just a little reminder for you. I used a little energy to keep that feeling in your brain there."

Bucky's mouth drops. "You can do that? What else don't I know about you?"

"Not really," Ana chuckles. "Remember, I can't amp up your feelings or emotions, but-"

"But you can make them last longer?"

"In a way. I can at least keep that happy energy there. Don't worry, doing that barely takes anything out of me." Ana moves their hands to his chest. He seems calm, the numbers on the screen backing it. "Feeling alright?"

"Feel fine. Just a little nostalgic." He gets lost in his thought for a few moments. Then his eyes clear. "Second word?"

Ana squeezes his hand, then untangles their fingers. "Rusted. Please, Bucky. Do no associate that with your arm. As much as I love it, especially in some certain aspects-" the machine beeps for several moments and Ana smirks- "I know that's not how you see it."

Bucky stares at his left arm, clenching and reopening his fists. He twists and turns it, the slates shifting with the movement. He slowly stretches out his arm, until the palm of his hand rests against Ana's cheek. She covers the metal, keeping his hand pressed against her skin. She kisses the base of his thumb, smiling at him.

"This is something I wrote down." Bucky confesses, keeping his hand on her face. "I kept rereading it, trying to recall the details until I started seeing it. It was a Sunday, the day before the new school year, and Steve had run into one of the older kids. He decided to pick on him, mainly because Steve was smaller, and thought he could push people who were weaker than him around. Or so he thought. By the time I got there, the punk had left, but threaten to knock Steve's teeth out the next morning before school.

"I caught Steve throwing rocks at this rusted, old tin can he had set up on a wall. I asked what the hell he was doing, said he had something to prove to that bully. He kept missing the can, couldn't even graze the damn thing for a while. Until he did. He threw a rock so hard, it knocked the can off. I remember being impressed by the strength behind it.

"The next day, well. Before that asshole could get close, Steve threw a sock full of dirt at him. Hit him square in the shoulder and knocked him off his feet."

Ana can't help but laugh, finally bring Bucky's hand down. "He threw a sock full of dirt? That's amazing."

"Sounds a little like someone else I know." Bucky teases, looking at her pointedly.

"I throw a plum and break a window one time and we can't let it go." Ana grumbles. "What happened after that?"

"Steve nearly got his ass kicked afterwards, but he had another sock, hit the guy in the face. It was one of the first times I didn't need to step in...until that evening." Bucky chuckles at the memory. "Steve didn't know that last part, still doesn’t."

Ana repeats the same tapping motion, but to his forehead this time. "You felt proud of him though?"

"I did." Bucky nods, preening.

"Seventeen." Ana says after a minute of silence.

"It was the seventeenth day of the month when I first saw you." Bucky tells her, staring directly into her eyes. "It was 9:17 in the morning when I met you. It was 9:34 am when this little voice in the back of my head said to immediately trust you. I couldn't that quickly, but I knew I wanted too, felt it in my gut. I didn't know you then, but it felt like if I could trust anyone here, it should be you. It took me seventeen minutes to figure that out."

Ana doesn't think she has inhaled in the past two minutes. If she was hooked up to the monitors they would be going crazy. Her heart is racing in her chest, her stomach is fluttering, warm chills climb up her spine. She licks her suddenly dry lips and wish she could just kiss Bucky senseless. Ana noted the day as well, she remembers it perfectly. Remembers her breath hitching in her throat when she first saw him. However, Bucky actually clocked the time. She gently taps his left temple.

"Oh." Is her eloquent response. 

It makes Bucky grin shyly, his eyes softening around the corners. The beeping of the machine pulls Ana from drowning in his ocean eyes, that have darkened just a little. As if he would like nothing more than to just kiss her senseless as well. Being apart for three days has messed with Ana, so she focuses his vitals.

Not much else is said between that, and once Bucky's heart settles, they continue. That fourth word starts off rather difficult and when the machines goes off again, it's not due to a fond memory.

"Kazhdoye utro na rassvete. They would say."

"Every morning at daybreak." Ana translates quietly.

Bucky nods solemnly. "I don't remember much of this. It's still fuzzy and blank. They would torture me, strap me to that machine, electrocute my brain. Or, that's what I first started having nightmares of. Maybe that's why that word switches everything off, why it sets off the triggers."

He rubs his face with his right hand, then shoves his fingers into his hair and pulls at the temples. Ana is quick to stop that, grabbing both is hands to prevent any harm to himself.

"Bucky," Ana begins, needing to tell him. "I burned that page. Just that one so far, because it was the only page to have the words. I barely looked through that entire thing. I didn't want to. I thought I would be sick to my stomach, but I saw something else. Something that nearly made me set the living room on fire until Vision stopped me. On the back of that page, there were instructions. Instructions on how to take care of you. Or, in their disgusting phrase. Instruktsii po tekhnichesomu obsluzhivaniyu Aktiva. Maintenance Instructions for the Asset."

Ana shakes her head, still fuming about it. How they spoke of him, how they treated. "They didn't even view you as a person. As a human. They treated you like you were nothing but a robotic weapon."

Bucky soothes her by rubbing his hands up and down her forearms. "I'm with you now. Someone who has looked at me like I'm worth something from day one."

"You are." She smiles at him. He returns a small one. "You are." She repeats so he understands it. "Do you have anything else to associate that with? A morning run? Coffee?"

"You." Bucky whispers, squeezing her hands. The dark look glittering in his eyes is back, pinning her to her spot. "The way you looked in the sunrise," he keeps his voice low. "In my bed, sleeping next to me. The sun was streaming through the window, painting you in this amazing light and you just...took my breath away, Annie."

Her breath hitches. "Bucky."

"You were stunning, so beautiful. I couldn't believe you were real, sleeping next to me, in my arms."

Ana is speechless. Left with her entire body on fire, heating her cheeks, causing a sudden sprout of arousal to overcome her. She can't think of anything now, since they're not even halfway finished. Bucky lifts her left hand to his temple for her. Blinking, Ana taps her fingers slowly this time. 

Apparently she lost some focus because she accidentally releases some of her own energy onto Bucky. The sensation makes him blink and a blush being to tint his cheeks as he leans forward.

"I'm going to make those three days up to you, darling. I promise." He says, a low rumble in his tone.

Ana nods. "Furnace." She nearly gasps.

Bucky presses a brief kiss to her cheek then leans back. He scratches his jaw, and Ana feels like she can breath again. She wills her own emotions to relax.

"Winters got rough in the 30's." He begins. "I would gather my family up, and we would fall asleep in front of the furnace. Steve too, in the middle because he got colder easier. Got sicker faster than any of us. We'd stay up and talk about The Wizard of Oz and-" He breaks off to chuckle fondly. "That moment when it switched from black and white to color was mind blowing."

Ana repeats the tapping. "I've always wonder what that would have been like."

"Incredible." Bucky states in awe. Ana is just in awe of how much he is remembering of his past.

"We can watch it tonight if you want." She suggests. Bucky nods. "Nine."

The fond expression falls of his face, replaced by something much sadder. Heartbreaking, because Ana begins to see fear cloud his eyes. She stands from the stool, only to sit next to him on the bed, and gently begins to rub his back up and down. He gives her an appreciative look.

"It took them nine times to use the trigger words before it started to break me." He whispers. "Until they had control of my mind. Ana." Bucky reprimands abruptly. "Don't do that. You said you wouldn't."

"Sorry." She winces, inhaling through her nose to reign in her energy. "I couldn't help it."

Bucky gently tugs her hair. "You have nine gold dots in your eyes, sweetheart, remember? I counted them when...welll, it's what brought me back. Those nine golden dots grounded me. Brought me back to you."

Ana drops her head to his shoulder. "These can't all be about me, Buck."

"Yes they can."

She kisses his bare skin.

"If you are what pulls me out of that, why can't all of these be about you? How you help me in every single step."

"Benign." Ana speaks. She can't take anymore of his words, otherwise her heart will burst.

"That's ironic, that one." He muses. "Doesn't that mean...not harmful?" He laughs humorlessly, sad. Deprecating.

"Bucky, don't do that." She cajoles softly. "It can also mean kind and gentle."

"Like you." When he laughs this time, it's a happier sound. Ana had poked his cheek. "Right, not all about you, that's not hard at all."

She rolls her eyes in response.

"Fine." Bucky takes a moment to think it over. "Wanda."

"Wanda?" Ana asks, suddenly confused.

"Besides you and Steve. She was the first one who was kind to me. She understood some part of me and like you, she didn't think I was set out to harm anyone. So. Wanda's friendship is kind. All the friends I started forming here are. It's a little crazy to think about. The Winter Soldier has friends."

"Yes he does." Ana agrees, then taps the back of his head. "Homecoming." 

"Coming here, I think." He admits quietly. "After I fled from Hydra, I didn't have a solid place to call home. I kept moving, too paranoid to stay in one place for long. Nothing was ever home to me, just places to sleep, to survive, but here. It feels different here. This feels like a home to me.

"There are days where I want to express my gratitude to Steve. He has done so many things for me, risked everything to save me, help me. Bringing me here is one of them. I don't think there's ever enough gratitude for that."

"I need to thank him for that too." Ana says, winking when Bucky looks surprised. "Wouldn't have a Winter Flurry to tease if it weren't for him." He opens his mouth to retort, but Ana taps his temple. 

"One."

Bucky inhales slowly, exhaling out his mouth as if he's bracing himself for something. He turns so his body is facing hers, minding the little pads still stuck to his skin. Ana has to pull her eyes away from his flexing bare abs as he shifts around. He gently places his hands back on her face, cupping her cheeks.

"You," Bucky murmurs, searching her eyes for a moment. "Are the one reason I am fighting so hard. You once said I've been fighting for myself, that I do fight for myself. Not anymore. I haven't for months. Annie...you are the one I've been fighting for."

Ana gives in and kisses him. His lips are a little dry against hers, but it's perfect and soft and this is all she wanted to do after that compromised stage. To kiss him, to make him believe he wasn't at fault. They monitors next to them begin to going haywire, the beeps getting louder and faster, but they ignore them.

Placing her hand against his bare chest, Ana feels Bucky's heart pounding. She wants to pull him closer, to just lay him back on the bed and kiss the enhanced breath from his lungs, but she doesn't get a chance to. Someone clears their throat, the beeping cutting off.

"Keep that certain healing process to the bedroom, please." Janice mockingly scolds.

They pull apart and Ana smiles unashamed. "Sorry. Won't happen again."

Janice hums, fondly rolling her eyes and walks away. Bucky tucks Ana's hair behind her ear as she says, "Freight Train."

The playful mood is abruptly gone. "Falling from that train, seeing Steve's face when he couldn't reach me in time...that was the last of me. The old me, I guess."

"Bucky." Ana frowns, taking hold of his hand and lacing their fingers together.

"I'm fine, darling." He promises. "Don't be mad. This one includes you too. Everything about you hit me like a fucking freight train, Ana." That dark look os desire is back in his eyes. "My feelings for you hit me like a freight train. Kissing you on the roof that night...like a train to my chest and all I could think about was kissing you again."

"Wow, Buck. You sure know how to make a girl's heart flutter." Ana quips, with truth. She taps his forehead one last time.

"I'm serious." He chuckles.

"Me too." She smiles brightly at him. "Do you feel okay?"

"I do, actually. My mind feels a lot clearer." He places his hand back on her cheek. "How about you, sweetheart?"

"No passing out here. Saving the dramatics for later."

Bucky chuckles and kisses her forehead. "You are beautiful, Ana, but you look exhausted. Three days is way too long."

Sighing, Ana moves off the table. She makes a mental note of his vitals, then shuts the machine off. She gently begins to take the little sticky pads of his skin.

"I promise I'll nap after this. Just let me record a few things before we leave." She tells him.

Once the last pad is off his elbow, Bucky speaks. "Want me to...um..."

"Please." Ana answers his unspoken question. "You've kept yourself from me for too long, Barnes. You owe me nap time cuddles, and that Nutella jar I know you hide in your room."

He pouts and Ana has to bite back her laugh. "Floorboard?"

She levels him with a look. "Don't insult me. You keep it in the hollowed out nightstand. That way it's within reaching distance, duh."

"Dammit."

Janice comes over then, basically pushing Ana over to the computers to record the Healing Session. It only takes fifteen minutes to finish, Bucky waiting patiently. He spends the time walking around the ward and observing a few of the advance technology Banner and Tony had provided.

Bucky had since put his shirt back on, and Ana tentatively holds grabs his hand as they walk back to their compound. They see Sam and Max, stopping to chat just a little. Max bids farewell as he is done for the day, and Sam is off to the store to buy some things for dinner. Bucky gently squeezes her hand, allowing her to lead the rest of the way. When they get there, its mostly empty, save for Wanda sipping tea on the couch. She smiles in greeting at them, noting their hands. She says nothing, just waves and throws a wink at them.

As much as Ana would love to kiss Bucky until they are both breathless, she doesn't. She can't, since the moment they step into her room, the past three days suddenly catch up to her. She quickly changes out of her jeans, all too aware of Bucky's gaze on her, and pulls on a pair of leggings instead.

They settle into her bed, Ana shifting around until she can find a position that doesn't hurt. Her attempt at keeping discomfort from her face fails, since Bucky is frowning once she stops moving. He carefully wraps his right arm around her hip, stroking over the bruise at her lower back with delicate fingers.

"S'just bruises, babe." Ana mumbles, slurring her words. She's exhausted and Bucky smells really good.

"Shh,my darling." He hushes, moving closer until her forehead is resting at the base of his neck. "Just sleep."

"Mm'kay."

Ana can't keep her eyes open any longer. She's just happy that Bucky is no longer hiding from her. That he doesn't seem scared to hold her like this anymore. The steady rhythm of his heart beat and the slow sound of his breathing lulls her to sleep. The last thing she feels is protective arms around her and soft lips against her hair.

************************************************************************************

Previous   Next

[lokilickedme]

Hello My Lady! Just because you asked, here are my faves of yours: #1 King (no surprise here), #2 Jack (too crazy not to love, and the stream crossing of pretty much all your stories is genius) #3 Chem/BD/TTW/TKH/TWK/can't remember them all. They're all special in their own way! Can't believe it'll be 3yrs soon since I started squatting your page!!! God time goes by fast! I'd like to add a special mention for the Muse Meetings, sooo funny, and a Golden Snowflake to Aleks. Cute little bumkin.

Thank you @fudgemuffinanon!  Dear god, has it been that long?  Seems like I joined up last year…*sits here blinking at my posts from 2015, wondering how that happened*

**LONG TEXT POST COMING UP**

You drew the lucky straw today my darling, I’m feeling wordy and in the mood to share.  A lot of people have asked me over the last couple of years how some of my stuff came about, and you mentioned one that gets a lot of asks.

Lemme tell you something about the Muse Meetings.  Way back in 1998 when I got my first computer, one of the very first things I ran across by way of internet fanfiction was a little something called The Very Secret Diaries penned by a writer named Cassandra Claire (who is now professionally published under the name Cassandra Clare).  The Very Secret Diaries (which are hilarious, btw) woke something up in me - mainly because, as a lifelong writer who had never allowed anyone to read 95% of my work, I finally realized that yeah, there were other people out there whose brains deviated from the standard in the same way mine did.  Her writing style back then (in the Diaries specifically, I’ve never actually read anything else she’s written) was very similar to the way I wrote, and those Diaries were exactly the sort of silly, ridiculous, irreverent thing I’d scribbled in my notebooks for most of my life.  And people liked it, she had a huge following based on just those out-of-context glimpses of her characters’ personal thoughts.  She was writing behind the scenes thoughts of characters, things that would never make it into books, and it was brilliant.  That was the kind of stuff I loved to write but had never given myself permission to show anyone.  She was showing hers to people, and they were loving it.

Which gave me the inspiration to not only put my work out there in the public eye for the first time ever, but to stick with my personal writing style (which I’d always assumed wasn’t what other people wanted to read, based on the books I’d been exposed to most of my life).  Not change anything.  Just do me.  And doing me meant writing silly nonsense if I wanted to.

So - The Very Secret Diaries are more or less the inspiration for the Muse Meetings, or at least the official written version of them.  I’d always imagined dialogues with my characters outside the confines of whatever story I was working on, but never thought anyone else would be interested in seeing me write it out.

The Diaries made me realize different.  Not only were her characters yammering and complaining and snarking at each other (both out of character and in), they were doing it in exactly the way I’d imagined my own characters interacting in the real world.  I loved it.  Seeing someone else do what I’d always done in my head - and do it in an official, out-there-in-the-public-eye capacity, was a revelation.  Finally I was able to give myself permission to write the way I wanted to, without restricting myself to the styles and methods in the books in the family library.  It had always been in my head, but now it didn’t have to stay there.  I could write proper stories, but I could also write what was going on in the other room, where the reader seldom gets to peek.  And other people besides myself might like it because hey, there’s precedent.

That was freeing, and I am grateful to Ms Claire for that.

So, a little history that leads up to how and why I finally started writing out the Muse Meetings:

My first fandoms that I wrote for online were Harry Potter and Star Wars (Kenobi specifically).  And yes, way back then (late 90′s - early 2000′s) there were already muse meetings among my characters.  I’ve been doing these for a long time, and I wish the out-of-character stuff I’d written back then still existed (my HP stuff bit the dust when The Restricted Section shut down, and my SW stuff was on FF.net for a little while but honestly I don’t remember my user ID there or the titles of the fics, though I have searched…so they’re most likely lost as well).  It’s sort of a shame because there were some old Anakin/Obi-Wan muse meetings that you guys would have loved…and the stuff between Remus and Sirius while we were hashing out what was going to be in their next chapter?  It still pains me that it’s all lost, but maybe it’s for the best.  That was nearly two decades ago, we move on to bigger and (hopefully) better things.

After my urge to write HP fic fizzled out I stopped writing for a while, but there were always muse meetings going on in my head for stories I scribbled mentally.  To me they’ve always been more fun than the actual stories, which explains my love for gag reels and behind-the-scenes featurettes for movies (I watch those first, always).

And then I found AO3 - funnily enough, I discovered it while searching the internet for one of my lost HP fics - and I decided to start writing in earnest again.  With all those thousands and thousands of fics and endless fandoms, it seemed like the perfect place to indulge my need to share what went on in my head.  And as I settled into the MCU and my stories started to grow to include multitudes of characters, those impromptu staff meetings with my muses kept being called to order.  Stuff that my characters would never say in the context of their stories got said.  Scenarios that were too ridiculous to waste time writing were played out.  Arguments and fights and bantering between characters who, in the restrictive confines of their own tales, would never in a million years interact…now they were throwing poptarts at each other (and occasionally knives) while the side characters wandered out of the room to watch TV or raid the fridge or sat in horror as someone’s until-now unassuming wife brandished a melon baller as a weapon.

It was messy and fun and was by far my favorite part of the writing process.

That’s what eventually became the Muse Meetings.  You want to know how they escaped my head and became an official thing?

Well I’m gonna tell ya lol

One of my very first friends in here, the fantastic @elvenfair1, was one of my first readers at AO3 and she told me I should post links to my fics at this site called tumblr to bring in a bigger audience.  So I opened an account here, followed her, posted some links as suggested, and she and I began messaging back and forth pretty much every night as we wrote our respective fics, bouncing ideas off each other and discussing plot points and brainstorming for character names.  And as my characters sassed me and refused to cooperate with what I wanted them to do, I would tell elvenfair what was going on in my head with my dumbass OCs and OFCs and we’d laugh and gripe about trying unsuccessfully to reel in our unruly muses.

And then one night back in 2015 she said “You should post this muse stuff, it’s hilarious.”

You know what the first thing I thought was?  Cassandra Claire did it 14 years ago and people loved it.  So yeah, I can sure as hell do it if I want.  If nobody is interested in it, at least it’ll amuse me and elvenfair and that’s cool enough.

And so I did.  I started posting them in here first, then as people started requesting them more I eventually moved them to AO3 in a more structured format.  And now you guys have multiple Lokis hurling curses at a bartender and viciously baiting a hapless movie star while teenage versions of two other attendees flirt with unsuspecting OFCs, with an occasional appearance by Thor dropping hints about future chapters and looking for fruit roll-ups.  It’s messy, but it’s fun and I’ve always enjoyed writing it as a way to let my brain decompress, especially when one of my “real” stories has hit a roadbump.

Since then I’ve seen countless other professional writers doing the exact same thing - J.R. Ward even posts her own version of muse meetings on her official website AND has a published book (her Insiders Guide) that is almost entirely nothing BUT muse meetings.   It’s surprising how many writers actually do this and I sometimes wonder if authors like Poe, Steinbeck, Vonnegut, Tolkien, Gaiman, McMurtry didn’t do it themselves (I’d bet money on McMurtry).  Just goes to show there’s not an original idea anywhere in the universe…no matter how much you might believe you came up with it first, someone out there has been doing it for a long damn time before you - and a million more will do it after you :)

Anyway, I haven’t written any muse meetings in a while but they still go on constantly in my head.  I get asked about once a week to go back to doing them, and one day I will, when I have time for it.  My actual fics are struggling for writing time as it is and I made a conscious decision to weed out the unnecessary stuff in favor of “real work” (yeah right lol)…but yeah, the Meetings are still one of my favorite things and I won’t stop doing them permanently - they’ll be back.

So thank you Cassandra Claire for inspiring me to let them fly…if it weren’t for those whacked-out Diaries, the Muse Meetings would all still be in my head with only one person (me) laughing at them.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Canadian Girl*

Chapter Ten 

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC  |  Word Count: 8994     NSFW* Warnings:  Smut! (18+), swearing, angst, Steve's dirty mouth, past emotional abuse, Stereotyping of Canadians (I'm allowed, I am one)

The big ranch house, a place used to holding family gatherings, was nearly a hotel which Steve found himself haunting later that night after everyone had gone to bed. He’d managed to contain himself when it came to Kennedy, returning them both back to the house, ignoring the smirking faces of his team who had unanimously decided to accept the Jones’s offer to spend the night. There was more than enough space.

When he’d asked about the size of the house, Jonas had given a small grin, made a comment about rodeo Steve failed to understand, but the gist was Jonas had made his money riding the circuit as a young man, fallen in love with an oilman’s daughter, and followed her home to this little piece of paradise. They raised rodeo stock and loved it, and the family had stuck to the house – why wouldn’t they – even after Matt and Jesse had married. They made it work and the only one to move away had been Kennedy.

The house had been a gift from Mary’s daddy. A showpiece and, at the time, a rub in his face when it came to their financial differences. But, with years and children and family dinners, they had made peace with each other, filling the house with love and laughter and happiness. Mary’s daddy had been gone for years, but the house stood still as testament to what was once his love for his little girl. It was clear Jonas loved his own little girl in the same way.

All around the study he stood in, Steve could see bits and pieces of her life, of Kennedy’s life. Family photos, mementos, knickknacks. He even recognized a few as things she’d talked to him about, quirky little anecdotes of her life. He could see, now, why it was she longed for a home and a family of her own one day. When she’d come from a life like this, how could she not want to give the same in the future?

But now, standing in her life, could he give her all the things she deserved? The way he lived, the danger and the violence, was that really what was best for Kennedy? It was, technically, too late now as she was neck deep in it.

On the mantel above the fireplace, Steve picked up the picture of Kennedy as a smiling fourteen-ish-year-old.

Her hair was in pigtails. She was hugging the neck of a much smaller version of Kyle. It was downright adorable how happy she looked.

“You going to lurk or join me?” Steve glanced towards the door where Kennedy’s youngest brother was standing.

“Sorry, Steve. Just didn’t want to interrupt.” Henry wandered in, hands in his pockets to stare down at the picture in his grip. “She was so damn happy that day. Dad brought home Kyle for her birthday. She went through the roof. Pretty much lived in the barn for a solid month.”

Steve smiled at that. “She seems the type. Puts her heart and soul into whatever she loves most.”

Glancing his way, Henry murmured, “She radiates the same emotion today she did that day. You make my sister real happy, Steve.”

“But can I keep her happy?” The words slipped out, and he sighed, placing the picture back on the mantel. Clearly, he was more tired than he wanted to admit.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Henry scoffed. “You finally get her to say yes, and now you’re second-guessing yourself?”

“I can’t give her this, Henry.”

“Did she ask you to?”

Steve looked up at the door where Kennedy stood staring at him. “Now who needs the bell?”

“Henry, can you give us some privacy?” Kennedy asked.

Her brother kissed her cheek as he left, closing the door behind him, the snick of the mechanism showing he’d locked them in the room lit only by the warm glow from the fireplace.

Pulling the robe she had on tighter around her body, Kennedy sauntered toward him. “What’s going on, Steven?”

He swallowed hard for she stood before him in a silky white robe which swung around her knees, clinging to all those curves.

Bathed in the firelight, he was hard-pressed to hold his focus until his eyes drifted up to her face and the black and blue shiner. Gently, he reached out to cup her cheek, run his thumb below the bruise. “You have a pretty amazing family, Kennedy.”

“I’d like to think so,” she smiled softly, leaning into his hand.

“What if… this is so...” He waved at the room.

She seemed to know he meant more than that. “You make me happy, Steven. Don’t make me second guess that. I’m not a confident person even though I fake it. You can’t ask me to be your girl and then take it back.”

“I’m not, Kennedy. I promise you I’m not.” He brought his other hand up to hold her face gently between his palms. “You’re life has been so… full. What if I can’t give you this? What if I stop making you happy?”

“My grandmother use to have this saying. It was don’t borrow trouble. I could just as easily say someday you’ll get tired of me.” When he made to protest, she held up her hand. “I’m not adventurous. I’d rather sit in the sun and read a book than go for a run in Central Park. I like music over movies. My microscope over television. I like going for a ride in the mountains, and skating on the pond in the winter. I think the gym is the devil’s playground, and I can spend hours in the lab where I forget the world outside it exists.”

“There ain’t nothing wrong with any of those things, doll face,” Steve said. “But can you be happy with me if I can never give you a home like this? A life like this?”

“I have a home like this when I want it, and I like my life just fine. Are you going to change that on me, Steven?”

“Maybe. A little,” he admitted softly. “You’re going to need security. Might be best if you just move into the Tower.”

She sighed softly and placed her hands on his chest. “I think… aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?”

“What you mean by that, Kennedy?” He liked the way her hands fluttered a little before they landed like she wasn’t quite sure just where to place them because she wanted to touch everything.

“We haven’t even gone out on a date, Steven. You’re talking the future and family and a home, making comments about moving into the Tower, and don’t think I don’t know exactly where you think I should be living,” she sighed. “What if… what if…” She flushed red and looked away from his eyes.

“What if what, doll?” he asked.

“What if you and I don’t… fit?” she whispered.

It took him a second of studying her flushed face to understand she meant what if he was disappointed with her physically. “This coming from the sexy little thing I’m nearly tumbled in the barn?”

“I’m not,” she sighed.

“Not what, baby?” he whispered leaning down to lightly nip at her lips.

“Little… or sexy.”

He frowned, shaking his head slowly in disbelief. “How can you not see it? You’re so damn beautiful. Who broke your confidence, Kennedy? What stupid fool ever told you, you weren’t the Almighty's most perfect creation?” Threading his hands into her hair, he fanded it out around her shoulders. “You have hair like corn silk which has been touched by the blush of a rose. One morning in the Tower I saw you highlighted by the dawn and your hair was the same colour as the sunrise. Later that day, when the sun was bright, it was caught in a shaft of light and glowed with deep red flame. And right now, it’s pinker than blonde in the firelight, like the petals of a peony.”

“Steven…” Tears filled her eyes when her heart skipped a beat, something he could actually hear happen.

But he wasn’t finished. “You have the most vivid green eyes. Emeralds are jealous of their colour. The freckles on your nose are where the angles kissed you. You have this full, pouty lip that juts out a little when you chew the cap of your pen. It makes me crazy with how much I want to sink my teeth into it. Just bite it, Kennedy, and pull it between my own.”

Her breathing was getting faster, heavier, and he smiled softly.

He hadn’t planned on seducing her in her parent’s house – seducing her later, yeah – but he wasn’t about to let these crazy thoughts of being less than the treasure she was linger in her mind.

Tracing his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, he took her by the hands, drawing her down to kneel on the rug before the flickering flames. The crackle of wood and fire was a perfect backdrop to her soft moan when he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist. “Tell me what they told you. Let me prove them wrong.”

“I… Steven…” she whispered, voice hesitant.

He reached slowly for the belt on her robe.

She turned her face away.

“Don’t you do that, baby. Don’t you look away.” He captured her chin, turning her eyes back to his. “Tell me who hurt you?”

Sighing, she placed her hands back on the thin cotton of his t-shirt. “My ex, at Uni. I was always… a little too heavy, a little too thick in this area or that. It was a good thing I was smart because I was too big to be pretty. I’d never do better than him, and I should be happy he liked chunky women.”

“What else?” he growled, angry and trying to not to show it, but there was more. He could see it on her face.

“I was,” she swallowed hard, “A disappointment. Cold and… stiff,” she whispered.

“Screw that nonsense!” Steve snarled, dragging the belt on her robe open. “The woman who came for me in the barn tonight was neither cold nor stiff. She was a vixen. All flames and heat and teasing promises of maple syrup.”

She grabbed for the edges of her robe, but he just captured her hands, dragging her forcibly into his lap where she had to straddle his thighs.

“Steven!” Kennedy gasped, suddenly face to face with him. Her arms flew to wrap around his neck as red rushed to her face.

Holding her knees, making sure she couldn’t escape, Steve did what he’d always wanted to and nipped her lip, sucking it between his teeth. He groaned when she whimpered. “Fuck, baby.” Slowly, he moved his hands up her thighs and could have growled when he encountered the bandages which wrapped them. He wanted to touch her, not some fabric. Pulling back he asked, “How bad are you hurt?” He would have to go slow in showing her how desirable she was if her injuries were severe.

“Little cuts, nicks and scratches really. This was just quicker than Band-Aids.”

She gasped when the cold metal of his quickly palmed blade slipped between the bandages and her skin. The knife was very sharp, and he was very careful.

Shoving the blade back in the sheath at the small of his back, Steve slipped his hands beneath the bandages, peeling them carefully open. They fell away to reveal what she’d said, minor nicks and cuts, bruises, nothing as bad as her shoulder. But uncovered, with the white silk gown barely hitting the tops of her thighs, leaving all that skin on display, he groaned. They were sky high gams of perfect flesh which he squeezed lightly, working from the knees up to her hips. “You’re so fucking perfect, Kennedy.”

Sliding his hands around, he gripped gentle handfuls of her apple bottom, moaning quietly. “So soft.” Releasing the handfuls, his hands made quick work to glide up to her hips, slide around to run up her gently rounded belly. She had a soft little pouch that he thought was adorable. “My girl is so soft, so very soft. I want to kiss every inch of your exceptional gams, bite that amazing ass, and  sleep with my head pillowed right here.”

Her eyes had long since fluttered shut.

He leaned close to whisper in her ear, “And I haven’t even gotten to you breasts yet.”

Panting, Kennedy said, “You’re a little… dirty, aren’t you, Steven?”

“For you, baby? I could get filthy,” he whispered against her cheek, lowering her slowly back to the rug. He had the feeling she liked a little dirty talk.

“God! Steven.” A whimper escaped her when his lips attacked her throat, and his hands rucked her nightgown up.

“Let me show you. Let me show you what you do to me,” he said, pressing his lips into her soft, smooth skin, which smelled of peaches. He just wanted to bite her, sink his face between her legs, and see if she tasted just as good.

“Steven…” Kennedy moaned, hands sinking into his hair as his hands stroked over her stomach, hips, and thighs.

He touched all the parts of her she was so insecure about, hoping to show her just how beautiful she was. “And, as for the haven’t even been on a date portion of your argument, one could say we’ve been dating for weeks. Coffee dates, late nights of talking and spending time together. You made me a meal, and I’ve met your parents, doll face,” Steve chuckled, tracing his lips over her throat and down across her collarbone.

“But… I didn’t even… know you liked me till four weeks ago,” she panted. Kennedy whined softly when his teeth closed firmly in the straining cords of her neck, a wicked little reprimand.

“We’re going to work on that confidence, baby.” Pulling back, Steve looked down on her laid out in the firelight, all glowing skin and shimmering white nightgown. Her soft belly flowed into rounded hips and strong thighs, while her core was covered in the most beautiful white lace. “You’re like some virginal sacrifice waiting for rescue.”

He’d loved Peggy once, had had something special with Sharon for a little while, but this girl, this sweet, tough, amazing woman, did things to him on a visceral level. He wanted to protect, to cherish, to possess every bit of her and to love her with every ounce of his soul.

She was gentle and good and wholesome. And she needed him to stand as her shield from both the outside world and her own inner demons.

She looked at him hovering above her, her hands still in his hair before they fell to his shoulders. Green eyes, pupils blown, gazed up at him.  

He couldn’t help but see the lust, the desire on her face. Everything he was saying to her, all of it, he meant every word which came from his mouth. He could only pray she believed him.

He watched her breathe and then he watched her come alive. The tense nature of her body softened, a smile flirted with her lips, her emerald eyes gleamed with a sultry heat, and she traced her fingers over his chest.

It was fucking hot!

***

Taking a deep breath, letting go of some of her anxieties, Kennedy reached for the girl she’d once been.

The one who had punched Larry MacGregor in the face for teasing her best friend. The one who had done a dead man’s hang off her horse when she was eleven because Matt had said she was chicken. The one who’d walked into Stark Tower her first day of work with a smile on her face even though deep down she was terrified.

Steven was looking at the parts of her she was most ashamed of like he’d never seen anything more glorious in his whole life.

She wasn’t going to turn down Captain Sex on Legs because she had stage fright.

Closing her fists in his shirt, Kennedy whispered, “Are you here to rescue me, soldier?” She didn’t think his eyes could get any bigger, but they did.

“Sweet Jesus…” he whispered, excitement lacing his voice. “Yeah, yeah I can be your soldier, baby.”

“You going to save me, Captain?” Kennedy smiled, dragging her nails down his broad chest. Slowly, she drew them back up, bringing the material with her.

“Hell yeah!” He let her draw his shirt over his head, yanking it off his arms, looking down in time to watch her mouth fall open on a breathless moan. “Kennedy?”

Her hands fluttered, almost afraid to touch once he revealed all that muscle.

He was like a sculpted masterpiece, something carved from marble which had been given life.

“My god, Steven. You’re beautiful.”

Drawing her up, he tenderly kissed her lips, moving along her jaw as he slowly and carefully pushed her robe from her shoulders before gathering the hem of her nightgown in his hands. “You’re beautiful. This is all because I was given the serum.”

“The body maybe, but the serum doesn’t change who you are on the inside.” Lifting her arms, she allowed him to draw the nightshirt over her head. She took his face in her hands. “You’re a good man, Steven. You’ve always been a good man.”

His hands found her bare back. He drew her in to hold her tight against him. “Damn. You just slay me, Kennedy. Is it any wonder my heart falls at your feet every time I look at you?”

“Steven,” she breathed, kissing him with everything she had, her own heart landing with a splat at his.

He took her gently back to the ground, pressing her into the soft, synthetic fur of the rug, drawing his hands over her flesh and up her ribcage. She moaned quietly when his hand surrounded her breast and beaded nipple. Pulling away from her lips, Steven worked his way down her throat to the hollow at the base where he pressed a sweet kiss. Her collarbones got a stroking of his tongue before teeth nipped them. She gave a soft gasp, and he growled. The sound was sexy as hell.

Working down towards his hand, he found the smattering of freckles across her breasts and groaned. “I love these. They’re like a road map of Kennedy. Little marks to show me the way to heaven. And heaven is right here in the form of a breast that is a perfect handful with a pretty berry.” He took it in his mouth, laving his tongue over her.

“Ah!” she breathed out a harsh exhale, a wealth of pleasure pounding through her body. He switched sides and lavished back and forth, squeezing her breasts together gently so he could pop off one nipple and suckle the other.

Her legs went around his waist, but he braced against her tight hold.

“Not yet, doll. Not just yet. You’re such a pretty thing. So perfect. Going to eat you up, baby.”

He made her whimper, moan out his name when he began to kiss his way down her stomach. He stopped at one point, right along her rib cage, sucking a hard mark into her skin.

She gave a gasping cry of Steven, but he only chuckled, continuing down towards the lace covering the last of her.

Tracing his hand over her stomach, lingering on the purple hickey he’d left, he smiled a wicked grin, evidently proud of his handiwork. Skimming his fingers over her mound, he passed his index finger over her core making her groan. “You’re so wet already.” He pressed up, watched her gasp, hands scrabbling for purchase, finally falling to dig into the rug.

Her legs went weak, sliding from his hips. “Oh, fuck, Steven!”

He rubbed a small circle, making her squirm. “You going to come for me again, sweetheart? Come on my hand? Or would you rather I show you what my tongue can do?” She gasped a little moan, causing him to smile. “Dirty little thing. You want my mouth on you? You want me sucking on your sweet pussy? Licking it till you come?”

“Yes!” Kennedy gasped. Her underwear disappeared down her legs.

“All you gotta do is ask, baby. You’re soldier’s just a-waitin' his orders,” he chuckled when she squirmed and bucked her hips.

“Then put that filthy mouth to use, Rogers!”

He grinned at her, eyes heavy-lidded and pearly teeth flashing. “Yes, ma’am.” Shuffling backwards, Steven took her ass in his hands, lifting her up to his mouth.

Her breath broke with the first sinful lick and kiss he placed on her. When he moaned, eyes shutting and face locked in rapture, Kennedy whimpered because, dear lord, she had never seen a more erotic sight.

Steve Rogers, Captain freaking American himself, was tonguing her like a pro and looked to be having a very good time. One particularly hard suck had her arching back, moaning out his name.

“Watch the volume, baby girl. I want to hear you scream for me, but this probably isn’t the best place for that.” Stroking his tongue up her dripping sheath he kissed her clit, sucking the little bundle vigorously.

“Oh my god… Steven…” she panted harshly, latching her hand in his hair. “Less talking.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed softly, watching her eyes go wide before he attacked her clit with single-minded vigour.

It was so good, she had to let go of his hair, so she didn’t wrench it out. “Fuck…” His tongue was flicking and circling, driving her up. She finally had to throw an arm over her mouth to muffle the sounds she couldn’t stop making.

Every muscle in her lower half was quaking, quivering with anticipation, and he shifted his grip, supporting her with just the one hand so he could slide two fingers home, pressing out against her fluttering walls.

“Baby,” he groaned, coated in heat and wet, “You going to come for me, Kennedy? Squeeze my fingers?” Thrusting into her, he sucked her clit in quick little pulls.

Her teeth sank into the flesh of her forearm as Kennedy’s body did exactly that. She’d never had such a powerful orgasm before. One which made her muscles shake and a muffled, keening wail fall from her lips. Her womb clenched so hard she cried out at the force. Tears spilled down her temples to wet her hair as she sobbed little-gasping breaths. Everything faded down to the sensations wracking her body.

Minutes later, she opened her eyes, finding herself wrapped in Steven’s arms, cradled against him, and shaking.

“Shh, easy. I got you, baby.” He kissed the crown of her head.

Taking a deep breath, one that shuddered a little, Kennedy smiled sighing out, “That was… incredible.”

Chuckling softly, Steve rolled her beneath him. “Oh, really? Do tell.”

“And inflate your ego, Captain? I don’t think so.” But she said it with a smile as she stroked her hands over his chest. Leaning up, she pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his heart, flicking her tongue out to taste him.

His skin glowed in the amber light, shone slightly with sweat.

She crooned against him, “You’re overdressed, soldier.”

***

If the words hot damn happened to pass through his mind, Steve couldn’t fault himself but made darn sure they didn’t leave his lips while silently thanked the almighty for his sweet Kennedy. Her hands had already dropped to his belt, but he sat back and took over, letting his eyes wander the wonderland that was Kennedy Marie Jones.

The hickey he’d left was a vivid purple and red. He really wanted to leave a second one on her throat, high up by her tattoo, a mark of his possession for the whole world to see. But… maybe not here in her parent's home.

The Canadians seemed a laid-back sort. Still, he doubted Jonas would take kindly to Steve defiling his daughter on the floor in the study should he learn about it.

Gazing down on his woman, he had to smile. How could anyone have called her, in essence, fat? No, she wasn’t sleek and fit like Nat, but she sure as hell wasn’t fat.

She had muscle in her thighs and ass from years of horses and skating. She walked everywhere as far as he could tell and was relatively toned. Her belly was soft, not flabby but soft, something he thought was adorable. Her hips curved gently into a slender waist. Beautiful breasts with there smattering of freckles were high and firm and round. They were a generous handful, and he had big hands. More smooth muscles banded her arms, there, but not heavily defined. She was the perfect embodiment of what a woman should be, at least in his eyes. She was the picture of soft to his hard, of gentleness to his strength, of home to the hell he often walked. She was beautiful, and in the firelight she was radiant.

“Kennedy.” He stopped abruptly, hands coming to rest on either side of her head as he leaned over her.

“Steven?” she whispered, her heart kicking and racing as she gazed up at him in wonder.

“Kennedy, there’s no maybe for me. I… I love you.” He’d been falling for her since the first. He may have even tumbled down the slope the day he’d stolen her sucker. “I think I’ve been in love with you for some time.”

Green eyes, vivid, earnest, vulnerable, softened with her smile. “It’s why I would have walked away if things had turned out different. Because, I love you too, Steven. Enough to break my own heart if it was what was best for you. I think… no, I know that’s why I reacted so poorly when I found out who you were. I was already so deep, so far gone, it hurt so much to think you’d led me on.” She gently cupped his cheek. “How was I ever to measure up as good enough for someone like you?”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what’s best for me. I want you, Doc. Just you. I like just you, just fine.” He kissed her then, a soft, tender brushing of lips which reminded him so much of their first his breath caught. His lips slanted, heat burning through his body at the drag of her fingers down his skin.

She moaned into his mouth, making him frantic, wild for her.

Somehow, without breaking the kiss, he got his jeans down his legs.

She squeaked a little-shocked noise when she managed to cast a glimpse downward, taking in the rest of him. “Super-soldier indeed…”Kennedy murmured. “Hung like a horse has taken on a whole new meaning.”

Her face turned red with the remark, but he only chuckled, leading her teasing hand, the one which had been tracing his ribs, to his cock. “How long’s it been, Doc?” he asked, both out of curiosity and the desire not to hurt her.

“Five years,” she whispered, mouth falling a little open when she traced her fingers over the skin and head of his erection.

“Five?!” He didn’t mean it to sound so shocked but damn. Although, he’d once gone seventy years so who was he to judge.

She flinched, but his lips found the spot on her throat that was sensitive, softening his unintended accusation. Tilting her head, Kennedy continued to torment him with her tender touch. “Not since… Carl, at University. S’okay though. I’m clean and on something. Nothing worse than random cycles when you spend days or weeks in the lab.”

He, too, knew he was clean. The serum worked to keep him healthy including a range of STD’s, which, wow, had been a mortifying conversation to have with, of all people, Natasha. Things sure had gotten weirder since his time. But Kennedy’s words meant he wasn’t going to have to scrounge through his jeans.

Wishful thinking? Hell yeah! He’d come prepared to get his girl back, no matter what that took. “I can…” What was it Sam called it? “Glove up if you want me to.”

She snickered softly and shook her head. “It’s fine. I trust you, Steven.”

And he could see that she meant so much more than just he meant what he’d said. She trusted him to take care of her if something did happen.

He hadn’t really thought about kids before. Most of the women he’d known were in the same line of work, and he doubted whether they’d have wanted to give up their careers. Peggy had, but, again, different era. With Kennedy, he knew, someday she’d look at him with those emerald eyes and say five words.

Steven, I want a baby.

The whole idea of it hit him so hard, he was left breathless.

Home. She was his home.

Her hand stroked him a little firmer causing his mind to kick back in from the happy place it had disappeared to.

Shifting back between her thighs, Steve took her hands in his, stretching them above her head slowly, careful in case the bandaged wound of her shoulder pained her. “Going to go slow, baby. Treat you right. You’re going to feel so good. This soldier’s going to show you what it means to be with someone on the serum.”

“Ranch life starts early, Steven. Just so you know,” she warned him, eyes bright.

“How early we talkin’, doll face?” He smirked, eyeing the clock on the mantel.

“Six, sometimes five. When you come home, you help out, which includes dawn wakeup calls.”

The clock read midnight. He turned the smile down to her. “Guess we’ll have to catch a nap later then.”

It was the witching hour.

She had most certainly bewitched him. She shifted beneath him, and Steve moaned at the slide of silky thighs over his hips.

Taking himself in hand, he rubbed his head through warm, wet folds, coating himself in the essence of Kennedy.

She whimpered every time he caught her bundle of nerves, setting him smirking.

“You ready for this, Kennedy?”

She twisted her wrists in his grasp, but his hold was unbreakable and took her legs to his waist instead. “Less talk, more action, soldier.”

Chuckling, Steve murmured, “Yes ma’am.” Pressing his hips forwards, he groaned for she was scorching hot and so tight.

“God! Steven!” Kennedy gasped, arching beneath him. “Fuck!” she squealed when he pressed deeper, and her body gave to the intrusion.

Releasing her hands, they immediately flew to his back, nails finding purchase in his shoulders, but the pain only increased his pleasure. He reached for her thigh, sliding it higher so he could sink deeper. “Breathe, doll face. You feel so good, baby, but you’re so tight. Don’t fight me, sweetheart.” His mouth was pressed to her ear.

She moaned at the sensual nature of his words. “Kiss me,” she groaned when his hips surged. “Kiss me and make me yours.”

He did so, tenderly. Beautiful, gentle, and soft. When he finally slipped home, when his hips rested against hers, she breathed out a stuttering breath of wonder, and he smiled against her lips.

“Steven…” she moaned

“I got you, baby,” he whispered. Fully seated, he had to fight his racing heart for he’d never felt anything so perfect before.

She fit like a tight glove and throbbed gently around him.

“Tell me when.”

Clenching her fingers into his back, Kennedy whimpered giving a small nod to grant consent for she had no voice left. Then he drew back, a slow, slick glide through her folds and she gasped for air.

For the first time since he’d changed, become Cap, Steve felt the hitch of breath which reminded him of when he used to have an asthma attack.

She left him breathless.

It was the most exquisite sensation, her fluttering sheath, gripping thighs, and scratching nails. “Kennedy…” he whispered, overcome as he pressed slowly back in.

***

She’d never seen such a beautiful sight as the way the firelight played over his flexing muscle and glistening skin.

His teeth had caught at his lip, his cheeks had flushed, and his blue eyes gleamed like cobalt behind heavy lids. When his length delved deep, pressed against her core, she arched back in rapture and tightened her hands. “Oh, oh wow.”

“Yeah, baby? You like that?” he breathed against her cheek as he tightened his grip on her thigh, picking up his pace. “Does it feel good, doll face?”

“If I… oh… tell you, you’re… the best I’ve …ever had, will it… give you a swelled head?” she managed to gasp out, moaning when something swelled. “Oh my god, Steven!”

He chuckled and rocked into her a little harder. Plunging deep, she felt him bottom out and hissed at how good it was. She could feel her walls growing tighter, the heat of him scorching hot inside her as he sped up the power of his hips.

Every plunge was a searing drive of sensation, pouring pleasure through her system. He tilted her hip a little more, and his ridge dragged over her sweet spot. The spot inside no lover had ever found.

She cried out in bliss. Her nails scrabbled down his back and a keening sound spilled from her throat.

“Right there, baby? Is that the spot?”

Her eyes closed, her nose scrunching up with her frantic nod, and he shortened his thrusts to stroke over her sensitive sheath.  Her grip tightened, legs and hands, and he drew his lips over her cheek to find hers. Kissing her deeply, tongues twining, she felt the quiver in her muscles begin again.

“That’s it, baby. You going to come for me, Kennedy? Come on my cock?”

Drawing her hands down his back, she closed them in the flexing muscles of his ass and groaned, “Fuck, Steven! Harder!”

He obliged instantly, hips slamming down, driving her deeper into the plush rug. “Jeez, doll! You’re so good, so tight. You fit me just right, baby.” Nipping at her lips, Steve whispered, “Open your eyes, doll face. Let me see those emeralds.” When she cracked them open, he gave a rumbling growl. “That’s it, come on, baby. Give it to me. Come for me, darlin’.”

The burn started low, gathered in intensity, exploded outwards in a shower of sparks which had Kennedy straining beneath him. Her breath came out a whispered oh god before she was lost to the sensation of flexing walls squeezing down on the rod that was, suddenly, still inside her. It mattered little for everything clenched and milked, squeezed around him. Her body pulsed, throbbed, ached with how incredible her release had been.

“Damn, fuck.” Steve hissed, paused above her, he watched her gasp for breath and moan his name. Once she was sufficiently recovered, he smiled and kissed her cheek. “Will you do something for me, Kennedy?”

“What?” she asked, a little breathless.

“Show me your skills, baby. I want to watch you ride.” Without waiting for her consent, Steve flipped their positions.

Finding herself sprawled over his broad chest, the thick length of steel still wedged within her, Kennedy gasped softly in surprise. “Steven, I…” She bit her lip self-consciously.

He gently cupped her cheek. “You’re perfect, Kennedy. Show me what my Canadian cowgirl can do.”

Confidence. He seemed to radiate both it and bravery, and she wondered if it came with being the Captain America. But it was the love in his eyes, the way he looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world which had her sitting up and bracing her hands on his chest. “You sure you can handle me, soldier? Wouldn’t want to wear you out.”

His smile was so wide it nearly split his face. “You’d have to ride me pretty hard to wear me out, Doc.”

She shivered when he said it. Pulling her knees into his hips, she smiled wickedly. “Oh, honey, I’ve been riding all my life.” Slowly, she undulated her hips, making him groan.

Large hands landed on her thighs, and he was soon helping lift and lower her as he gasped, “Sweet Jesus!”

She rocked and rolled her hips, sliding up and down his shaft in delightful ways. Her nails bit and scratched at his chest while he let his hands walk the length of her body. Gleaming gold in the firelight, he stroked them over her, up her ribcage, and cupped her breasts. Kennedy moaned when he pulled on her nipples. Her hips jerked but soon recovered their rhythm.

Smiling down at him, she leaned back to place her hands on his thighs, arching her body. The wound in her shoulder was a little uncomfortable, but the way his cock was pulling and gliding, taking her back up this heavenly roller coaster, made up for a bit of pain. “Steven!”

“Don’t stop, baby!”

Releasing her breasts, he returned his hands to her hips, helped her slam down on him. Soon the slap of flesh to flesh and heavy breathing were the only sounds to be heard as Kennedy laboured above him.

Reaching between them, her arched body making things easier, he placed his thumb on her pearl and gave it a firm circle.

“Fuck…” she moaned. The heat was building in her abdomen a third time. “You keep doing that, you’re going to make me come.”

He circled the little bundle a second time. “Then come, baby. I like it when you squeeze me. Strangle my cock, doll.”

He kept going, rubbing, stroking, flicking the tiny jewel until the rhythm of rise and fall she’d established failed and she felt her heart stutter when her body exploded again. “Rogers!” she gasped, arms shaking with the bone shattering climax.

In a show of incredible strength, he sat up, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her hard. Here, now was the roughness she expected from such a big man, such a powerful man, coming through. She’d broken a layer of the Captain’s control and smirked proudly against his lips.

“Shit, Kennedy. You’re so damn hot, baby. So fucking sexy. Can you take more, doll?” He kissed her all over the unbruised portions of her face between every few words while his big hands were dragging, stroking, and squeezing everywhere. Sweat beaded on his brow, on his skin. It trickled down his temple.

She knew it was matting the hair around her face, as well but didn't care. “What else you got, Cap?”

His eyes gleamed with challenge. “Gonna make you come so damn hard, baby.”

Nipping his lip, she whispered, “Promises, promises, Captain.” It made her gasp when, he just manhandled her like she weighed nothing, finding herself turned to her hands and knees.

He was sliding his big cock back through her folds before she’d really even registered the fact that he’d left, and then his hips slammed forwards, and she gasped. His body draped over her back, arms wrapping tight around her. He drew her up and off her injured arm, onto her knees and over his thighs, spread out with his mouth against her ear.

“Don’t go throwin’ out the challenges, doll face, if you’re not prepared to accept the consequences.” He bit her ear gently, beginning to thrust, full, hard, plunges of his cock into her soaked sheath. “You love this don’t you, Doc? You love my cock inside you?”

“Yes!” she gasped when his hand closed over her breast.

“You should see yourself, baby. All flushed and glowing. You’re fucking gorgeous, Kennedy.” He thrust up with every third word, driving into her hard and fast, taking her back to the edge of orgasm so fast. Squeezing her breast, he sucked at the skin beneath her ear while his other hand drifted lower. “Who do you belong to?”

“You!” She thrust her hand back to grab a handful of his hair, holding his mouth to her throat. The other followed the glide of his hand towards her core.

“Who?” He closed his teeth on her shoulder gently.

“You, Captain!” she groaned out. Her reward was three hard thrusts and his fingers delving between her folds.

“Good girl,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m so close, baby. So close.”

“Me too,” she panted as his fingers played with her and his cock took on a bruising pace. “Oh god! I’m going to come so hard!” Her words drove him into a frenzy.

“Yeah? You going to come for me again? I like it when you do. You’re so fucking tight, Kennedy. You’re a damn treasure. Anyone who said otherwise was a fat-heat!”  

Her body arched, stiffened, and clamped down on his, making him moaned behind her.

She inhaled deeply, and he turned her face to his, sealing his mouth over hers, cutting off the scream she was about to let loose. She shook with the intensity. Everything inside her was twitching, burning, clamping down in mind-blowing release over the rapid swelling of his cock, then the hot jets of seed filled her, and she moaned for it set off little aftershocks of spasm which she didn’t even know were possible. Behind her, plastered to her spine, she could feel him quake, his muscles shaking with his pleasure as his hot breath washed over her cheek.

“That’s it…” she sighed moments later when she could find her voice.

“What’s it, sweetheart?” Steve murmured, kissing her cheek. Slowly he pulled away, cock still thick and semi-hard.

“You’ve ruined me for anyone else.” She’d never ever had sex like that in her life.

Chuckling, he turned her to face him and tenderly kissed her swollen lips. “Guess you’ll just have to keep me around then.”

Kennedy threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, sliding her tongue over his bottom lip when his hands tightened on her waist.

He took them over backwards to the rug, and she landed on him with a quiet umph.

“Not sure what’s harder. You or the floor.”

“Kiss me like that again, and I guarantee it will be me.” Steve chuckled. But when he looked down his body, he groaned for Kennedy was rising over him a second time.

She traced her fingers up his wet cock. “Just how many times do you have to come, Steven, before this relaxes?” How quick was his recovery time? Did he even get entirely soft? She had a theory but wondered if he’d let her experiment with him.

Her fingers skimmed around the head and he was almost instantly fully erect. “Kennedy...” He hissed softly when her wet folds were sliding along his length again. “You’re hurt, baby.”

“I’m fine. How many times, Steven?” she asked softly, a sultry smile on her lips when his eyes darkened, and his head fell back, arching his throat. Leaning over, her breasts pressed flush to his chest as she closed her lips on his Adam’s apple.

“Vixen!” he groaned.

“This is just me being nice, Captain. Don’t you want me to be nice?” She ground her hips down, and he whimpered. It made her grin wildly.

“Fuck! What happened to my shy girl?”

She smiled when he looked up at her in wonder. Sitting back, continuing to undulate against his loins, she gave a smug shrug of her shoulder. “She met you. You give me confidence, Steven. You make me feel beautiful and sexy. I had forgotten what it was like.”

Latching his hands to her hips, he asked, “What, what was like, Doc?”

“What making love felt like. I enjoy sex, and I had forgotten because.... because he’d made it all about him. What he wanted. What he liked. How I consistently failed to please him. But he never pleased me either. I was so wrapped up in the shit in my head, I’d forgotten how good this felt.”

He lifted her up and impaled her slowly down. “It’s always going to be about you first, Kennedy. My mama raised me to be a gentleman, after all.”

She smiled even though every part of her was humming with pleasure so potent she wanted to scream her ecstasy to the ceiling. “With that filthy mouth? You ain’t no gentleman, Rogers.”

He chuckled and squeezed her ass. “You like it.”

“Yes, I do.” Throwing her head back, she pressed her palm to his abs, dear lord those abs, and began to rise and fall above him again. “How many times, Cap?” She felt him surge up and gasped through her grin.

“Don’t know, baby. No one’s ever asked before, and I’ve never thought to test it.”

Biting her lip, Kennedy peered down at him from behind heavy lids. “Being as I’m a scientist studying the effects of the serum on the body, might I pose a hypothesis, Captain Rogers?” She said hypothesis and his hips bucked. “Why, Captain? Have you got a little science jargon kink in there along with that filthy mouth?”

“Only with you, Doc.” He smirked right back. “Can’t say I’ve ever had my cock twitch listenin’ to Tony or Bruce talk science.”

His comment made her chuckle. “And you like to play the soldier card, don’t you.... Captain?”

He groaned and bucked his hips up. “Why did I ever think you were a nice girl?”

“Beats me,” she murmured, tracing her nails over his abdomen.

“You’re a minx! Jeez, doll. You’re killing me.”

Laughing softly, Kennedy squeezed her internal muscles, watching his mouth fall open. “Can I run an experiment with you, Captain Rogers?”

“What’s it entail, doll face?” He was going to say yes, the excited gleam in his eyes made that abundantly clear, but he wanted to hear her say it.

It seemed the more she talked, the friskier he got out. “How many times can I make you climax before you finally lose your erection, Captain? I purpose it will take at least an hour to wear you out.” She stated it clinically just to feel the surge of his hips.

Her fingers flexed, and he groaned. “Aren’t you the one who said we had to be up early?”

“Can’t leave my man only partially satisfied.”

He flipped her to her back so quickly it knocked the breath from her lungs. “Say that again,” he demanded.

She was going to tease him, but a strong slam of his hips and the fire in his eyes warned against it. “My man.”

“Fuck, doll face. Just fuck! I love you so goddamned much already, and then you go and say that.” His hips surged and bucked, and he took her hard and fast, driving her into nerve screaming release which clamped tight around him. “Damn, Kennedy. You sure you can keep up, Doc?”

Panting, trying desperately to take a breath that wasn’t filled with whatever aftershave it was he used, the one which made her head spin with how good he smelled, Kennedy thrust her hands into his hair. “Five years, Steven. A five-year dry spell and I’m coming to see I’ve been sorely misinformed in the quality of my sex life before now.”

He smiled a look so wicked, she felt a skitter of trepidation travel her spine. “Then let’s test this theory, Doc.”

***

Hours later when Steve managed to look up at the clock on the mantle, he laughed softly. “Three hours. That’s got to be a record.” They were both a sweaty, exhausted mess. He was fairly sure they would need to burn the rug as it would likely never come clean, but that had been one of the most memorable experiences of his entire life.

“Definitely.” Kennedy smiled tiredly back. “Going to sleep right here.”

“Don’t think that’s a very good idea, doll,” he said, pressing his lips to the side of her throat.

“My god, Steven. If you tell me you can go another round, it may just kill me. At one point I swear it was just one long, never-ending orgasm.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you’ve rung me dry, love.” He could actively feel his lower abdominals cramp. “But I think your dad may have something to say about me defiling his daughter in the study if he should walk in on us in the morning.”

“Defiling, was it? Mmmm,” she hummed and stretched. “We definitely defiled the rug. How the heck am I going to explain this to my mother?”

It was all matted, not at all sanitary anymore and the room itself smelled of sex and exertion. The fire at least had kept the room dry enough, so condensation hadn’t gathered on the windows, but it felt stuffy to him.

Groaning, Kennedy sat up, pressing a hand to her back. “I ached in all the best places. Between you, skating, and getting blown up, I’m not sure I can walk.”

Reaching for the silky white nighty, Steve sat up and drew it down over Kennedy’s head. When it cleared her face, he leaned in, kissing her tenderly on her plump, slightly bruised lips. “Let me, doll.” He helped her thread her arms through the holes, letting it fall around her hips.

She was all hazy eyes and wild hair, and he was fairly certain she’d have bruises on her hips and butt that had nothing to do with her flight through the air.

He was waffling between guilt and pride but was leaning towards pride.

Helping her into her robe, he got her up and sat her on the edge of the sofa before dragging his clothing back up his legs. Her underwear went in his pocket as he tugged his shirt on. Looking from the rug to the window, he glanced at Kennedy when she giggled.

“Probably the best for now. There’s a hedge out there we can toss it behind. I’ll... make something up as to why it’s suddenly missing. Maybe I can bribe Henry into making it vanish. He’s good with that.”

Chuckling, Steve rolled the small area rug up and took it to the window. Shoving it up, he popped out the screen, dropping the evidence outside before replacing it all as good as before. When he turned back, Kennedy had stumbled her way to the mantel, and he was again struck with guilt.

“You okay, Doc?” He was quick back to her side.

She smiled when he wrapped an arm around her middle. “Fine. Matt taught me a trick when we were younger, and I caught him smoking one of dad’s cigars.”

On the mantle, her mother already decorating here and there for Christmas was a bundle of cinnamon sticks. Plucking one from the bunch, she broke a piece off and crouched, groaning a little, to tuck it near a warm bit of coals. They’d fed the fire once between bouts when the room grew dark, but the fire had again burned down to the soft glow of embers.

“Too close and it smells of burning cinnamon, but, if you can get it to warm....” It took a few moments, but soon the rich scent of warm spices was wafting into the room.

“Clever,” Steve smirked, kissing her cheek before scooping her up and heading for the door.

Wrapping her arm around his broad shoulders, she kissed his cheek. “It gives me a little thrill when you do that.”

“Do what, Doc?” He nodded toward the door which she unlocked and pulled open.

“Just... move me like I weigh nothing.”

Grinning, he headed through the house toward a different set of stairs. “If I can catch the force of Bucky’s fist and repel it you really aren’t an issue, Kennedy.” Quietly, against her ear, he murmured, “And don’t go gettin’ in your head, baby. You’re one gorgeous dame. You're not heavy, to begin with.”

“I’ll try, Steven. Just... be patient with me. I’ve listened to that voice for a lot of years,” she whispered back.

They fell silent as they made their way past the bedrooms. Steve faltered at one point, but it was only for a moment before they reached her room. Once there, he set her by the washroom door, smiling at her blush.

When the door closed, he turned to frown at her dresser. Sitting on it was his black go bag. It made him wonder just who had moved his gear. Henry? More likely it was Bucky, especially with the soft comment only he would hear which had come from his best friend’s room.

About damn time, some of us are trying to sleep. And jeez, Steve. Three hours? Really? Give the girl a break!

Evidently, they had not been as quiet as he’d thought. Likely it was only Bucky with his enhanced hearing who’d overheard anything. Hopefully. He cringed slightly but wasn’t about to mention it to Kennedy.

When she returned, looking wiped, he stripped her clothing from her a second time, pulling one of his shirts down over her head instead before urging her into bed. She didn’t protest and went willingly to fall face down over it.

Chuckling, he took his turn in her bathroom, cleaned up and changed shorts, returning to find her still sprawled over the comforter.  

“You can’t sleep like that, Kennedy. You’ll freeze.” The fire in her room had long gone out making it chilly.

When she made no sign she’d heard him, Steve simply moved her. She smiled in her sleep as he tucked her in, crawling in with her.

He doubted he should be in her bed, really, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be and set an internal alarm for two hours from now. He’d let her sleep, make an excuse, and help out in her place. He’d rope Bucky into it, too, and if the others were up, drag them along as well.  

Next Chapter

[janiedean]

asoiaf question - do you think jon will be alive or dead at the end of the series? and if alive, do you think he'll end up with someone? i know there's a lot of j/dany hints but that's one of notps (and j/sansa being a BIGGER one) so :/ (i can imagine him with val or sam but i doubt that'll happen and asha seems v unlikely too :( )

my money’s on alive and single or alive and in a marriage of convenience.

okay now I might be all wrong here and maybe grrm wants to defy me and my opinions re text analysis but anyway. 

as I ranted on thoroughly here, the thing that makes jon interesting isn’t that his story is original, it’s that it takes every single one of the typical fantasy mythical hero protagonist archetypes and then makes them go wrong.

what I mean is, tldr: your usual fantasy CHOSEN hero (see: harry potter, which I haven’t even read but know enough about to draw a parallel) has usually the following routine:

is an orphan and the people he lives to - not his immediate family but usually relatives hate him (in jon’s case: just catelyn does, he’s with his immediate family and even if he doesn’t know his true heritage ofc ned loved him and he was close to all his siblings except sansa, so he’s ofc an abuse victim when it comes to cat but not all of his family)

something happens when he’s a teenager and he’s off to a better place for great adventures which usually is presented externally has a good choice (jon chooses to leave his family and go to the wall which is a fairly worse place than winterfell was and he condemns himself to a life of chastity in the cold for honor? a lot less fun than magic school)

makes new friends and everything is very exciting and they’re his new family (works for jon but he never quite stops loving his stark relatives and almost defects for robb and it causes him emotional turmoil, not closure)

goes off on amazing adventures which only strengthen him and make his life better (he goes beyond the wall and half of the people with him die and he has to infiltrate the wildlings)

finds a girl he loves and flirts with her and maybe they get together then or at the end but anyway it’s his true love (or if she dies then she really wasn’t) (jon has ygritte and he loves her but he has to lie to her and it ends with her dying in his arms)

at some point he works through the ranks of whatever it is he’s doing and gets in a power position that makes things better (jon becomes lord commander and it turns into him isolating himself from his friends and getting killed)

this for what has already happened, but we still need: finding out his heritage/that he’s the chosen one, fighting the evil guy TM, coming out as a winner and finding happiness and his place within the world after some casualties which will make him stronger anyway.

all of the above has to happen to jon yet, but like, the moment he finds out he’s jon TARGARYEN he’s going to hate it because srsly who are targs to him? he wanted to be a stark, not a targ. and it’s already gonna turn the trope on its head because who wouldn’t want that in a regular fantasy series? yeah. anyway going by this reasoning he’s gonna find out he’s a targ, fight the bad guy and win (and get out of it with ptsd probably) and most likely he gets the iron throne since he has the best claim (esp if we find out that r married l and that he’s legitimate, or if someone legitimizes him, but then again he’s also ROBB’S LEGIT HEIR IN THE BOOKS SO) and no one else is gonna want the fucking job, and he’s doing to hate it.

so.

at this point we are at the shipping point. in theory, if grrm keeps on following this route, either he ends up married to someone he doesn’t particularly like or love or he doesn’t marry at all, and my issues with canon jon/dany is.. that… I mean, honestly, can you imagine jon voluntarily incesting with his aunt? doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know her or hasn’t grown up with her, can you imagine that? because I can’t. like I can’t conceive for now with what elements we have that he’d ever do that. if they marry out of convenience and needing to unite the realms or ally, it’s not gonna be the marriage of dreams unless grrm decides to stop being cruel to his characters.

or: honestly, my money always has been on dany actually going back to essos and khaleesing rather than being a queen given that in mereen if there’s a thing that those chapters made clear were that she’s good at conquering and terrible at ruling, so I don’t really rule out that he just doesn’t marry. or, I kind of like the idea of him getting with jeyne w. out of, y’know, her being robb’s wife and her possibly or not being pregnant and the likes and I think they could like each other but that’s me completely crackthinking and it’s most probably not gonna happen.

anyway: he’s alive, he’s definitely ruling and if he has a wife they aren’t in love, whoever the wife is. or that’s where my money is anyway.

[sundcwns-blog]

heey, hello, it’s a meme. i’m maze ( she/her ) & hailing from one of the oh so lovely coughs gmt tzs aka gmt+2. besides being trash on the daily i’m literally always listening to music aka if u ever need something new in that department .. hello, or browsing through netflix without any intent on watching smth. living that wild life ik .. DKAMS. but you’re here for my two kids aka basil & saint so here we go ! if you’d like to plot like this and i’ll slide into ur ims or look under the read more for my disc*rd ! also as a warning i unintentionally was v vain and made both muses scorpios .....

☾ — ·˚ » BASIL CRATES is in saint tropez !! they often get mistaken as KIAN LAWLEY. apparently, HE/THEY is/are the JOCULAR of the group. they’re a TWENTY-ONE year old PANSEXUAL DEMIMALE. i hear they’re known as ALTRUISTIC and DOGMATIC. they also make their living as ART STUDENT / BARTENDER / COMIC BOOK ARTIST but you’d have to ask them a bit more.

BACKGROUND + PERSONALITY.

born and raised in berlin, germany until his mother decided to move to the us when basil was twelve.

despite growing up bilingual, he had difficulties adjusting to the new surroundings and rather spent his free time drawing, eventually building up universes without needing any context and instead having the designs speak for themselves.

after finishing high school at age sixteen basil took a gap year to travel through europe with money they earned from several jobs during school times. bas was v very introverted back then, so it served as a challenge which once again they had difficulties with at first. but ofc you can’t get around without trying, so bas did. he’s still more of an ambivalent than an extrovert, but this journey made him see the beauty of uncertainty and they loved it.

also ik i used he & they in that last paragraph instead of just one bc basil honestly truly doesn’t care which one others use as long as they acknowledge bas isn’t cis bc he’s v open about his gender along with being pan .. but that’s another thing.

basil has a very high iq, but always prevented others from knowing about it. he basically failed tests on purpose back in germany and in the us he always made sure others don’t feel bad about their results and said his were worse even though he probably always got an a+, thus resulting in bas being able to skip two grades.

his mother had to carry two jobs to make a living for the two of them, which was one of the reasons why bas sold his art from a young age. thankfully it was actually decent ( coughs and looks @ ryan reynolds’ twitter ) and ppl actually wanted to pay good money for it. this was also one of the key moments in which bas realized they wanted to have their profession somewhere in the art department.

married his high school sweetheart in las vegas as soon as they both turned eighteen, but divorced just three weeks later. this is just one of their impulsive decisions as bas isn’t much of a planner, they rather have a few good laughs when telling the story ( even for the 10th time ) instead of asking what if. the only thing bas ever truly planned was becoming a comic book artist. they’re still at the very beginning as basil’s v young, but they’re just as determined to make it in the industry.

basil’s mother was always into greek mythology and even gave her child the middle name cerberus, which literally is the most dangerous thing about him and while he’s into mythology himself, he doesn’t really tell anyone his middle name as he’d rather not be compared to a three-headed dog .. but if he ever ends up drunk u can bet he’d insist on being called cerberus and nothing else.

being a comic book artist basil’s an avid comic reader as well, but mostly prefers indie comics as they’re more his kind of humor. speaking of, basil’s more of a morbid humor kind of pal ? but he’ll also immediately apologize if he takes it too far bc he values comfort even more than getting a laugh out of others and himself.

huge fan of dogs, literally the person that points at a dog and says “aw.” and definitely wants to pet them.

the least scorpio-like scorpio you will ever meet, and trust me this is coming from a Real Scorpio™.

ends up in a lot of weird scenarios while just trying their best, but always tries to take it with humor especially if someone’s with them.

most of his friends wouldn’t expect it, but basil’s very romantic, like going all out even for a first date and is probably doing waay too much for his opposite.

not really into the whole sex, drugs n rock ‘n’ roll as he prefers to maybe drink a few beers with his closest friends due to seeing what alcohol can do to people on an almost daily basis as a bartender. however, all of kian’s tattoos are canon for bas except for the native american and butterfly ones.

WANTED PLOTS.

literally everything but to be basic .. a best friend ( who might even know about his high iq bc he truly doesn’t tell anyone ), bad influence ( basil’s not exactly innocent or good himself but there’s always worse am i right ), childhood friend ( someone he considered a friend after moving to a completely new country ), enemy ( maybe they’re of the opposite group or even in the same and they had some fight that led to it or just disliking each other for apparently no reason at all just .. pls give me smth negative ), ex on good/bad terms ( as basil’s pretty romantic it could’ve been too much for the other or literally any other reason k thanks ), someone who hates his jokes ( plain n simple .. kewl ), my brain is scattered bc it’s almost 2am rn so i Def missed 820397 plots i’d love but u know what .. i’m a plot pro so shrugs. also i nearly wrote pro plot so u get me now .. pls killme KMDSX.

☾ — ·˚ » SAINT DEVERAUX is in saint tropez !! they often get mistaken as ALISSA VIOLET. apparently, SHE arrived from THE USA. they’re a TWENTY-ONE year old UNLABELED CIS FEMALE. i hear they’re known as VIGOROUS and DETACHED. they also make their living as an ACTRESS but you’d have to ask them a bit more.

BACKGROUND + PERSONALITY.

just as a small disclaimer: if anyone read girls on fire by robin wasserman, saint’s personality is heavily inspired by one of the characters in it aka lacey. and if u haven’t read it .. pls do it if you’re even just remotely into ya literature.

born and raised in los angeles, us, saint was practially thrown into the lives of the rich and famous. her parents were big in hollywood back in the 80s & 90s and gave those legacies to her.

being practially raised by nannies, saint didn’t really have a connection to her parents till they retired when she was fourteen. from there it was basically always good which is .. v weird but they somehow made it work.

as soon as saint turned eighteen she decided to change her last name to her mother’s maiden name, as she’s never been a fan of women having to give up their names just for being married even if it’s voluntary. this also resulted in her imdb page ( she truly made it huh. ) being “divived” into saint bartowski ( also shoutout @ anyone who gets this ref ) and saint deveraux.

at age eighteen saint also let out her true self, at least towards her parents. she admitted to worshipping lucifer just to piss them off and see how they’d react, it was just a game for her. but to be as convincing as possible, she did the most, even though she would’ve already had them just with her words, but saint always wanted to know just how far she could take it.

to the public she’s seen as this socialite turned actress who never did anything wrong, but just due to her parents and herself keeping everything under a neat little rug.

saint’s a very passionate person and loves to be surrounded or admired by people, but at the same time she doesn’t really care about anyone, no matter how many i love yous she’s going to whisper into someone’s ear or no broken promises ever.

as a result of the press putting labels onto her 24/7 she resents them. the only one she’ll ever claim is being in the lgbtq+ com as it’s basically the only thing in her life she truly cares about besides acting and her cats. however saint also makes a lot of fun of men and highly prefers females and nb pals for .. u know what.

she can also be extra af as she literally bought an old vw t1 bus in st. tropez for the short amount of time she’s there and have it look exactly like the one she has back in la with the pride flag sprayed on its roof and every little sticker/detail on its doors, etc.

getting to her job .. she currently stars in a made up netflix show that’s somewhere between veronica mars, twin peaks and 21 jump street ( the movie version ). i actually made a whole filmography for her but i’m too lazy for graphics and i’m not even sure whether i can use real movies/shows so oo. but if u want a list i can tots send it via disc*rd ( btw mine is artcmis#4377 ). and just know that she admires amber heard and mostly chooses roles like her aka not the damsel in distress. tho she would def love to save that kind of character one day .. js.

this is getting soo messy already omg. but to put her in a nutshell, saint’s a callous, manipulative, control loving, determined scorpio who also happens to be an actress, cat lover and feminist putting up a facade daily. also she can’t handle relationships for shhhit.

and what would these bullet points be if i didn’t start and finish them with a disclaimer ? still a mess yeah ik .. MXKAJD. but even tho most probs don’t even know who alissa is i just wanted to say that saint will have green eyes bc .. #aesthetic.

WANTED PLOTS.

once again any plot goes except for romantic stylez kind of plots bc yk not her kind of thing. catfish ( either someone used to catfish someone else using her pics or even better someone got catfished with her photos n now they’re meeting and she’s .. acting v different. plS. ), fwb ( so yeah saint hates relationships but u know what she doesn’t hate wink wink ;) KMSLASK also probs won’t work with males bc she’s all like [ cher horowitz vc ] as if ! ), fan ( someone who likes her movies or show idk ?? let her be all chill with them pls ), smoke bud ( she loves to party & smoke soo .. maybe even in an all-in-one with the fan plot ), enemy ( probs one of the other sec charas bc maybe they’ve met before or even wanted the same role ?? ), once again my brain is a mess sooo .. good bi !

this got longer than my biography ever could so if u read it all .. u truly are the mvp and deserve an award.