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thisbeatchachinglikemoney · 3 years

Text

Just One Day

Part 11 of the Boys with Luv series

Pairing: Reader x BTS, BTS x BTS

Summary: Someone from her past comes back

Warnings: Physical abuse, mental abuse, rape, swearing, kidnapping, hostage situation, suicidal thoughts

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @fic-recs-by-moon, @luvtaeha, @aretha170, @xicanacorpse, @kookieebangtan, @fangirl125reader, @seoul9711, @channiespup , @lindsayjoy444, @fairygirl18, @black-rose-29, @bts-ot7-for-life, @meowmeowyoongles

AN: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and what you think of the series so far :) I purple you guys! Also, happy FESTA!!

Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS ARE GOING TO GET QUITE DARK SO IF YOU GET TRIGGERED BY ANY OF THE WARNINGS LISTED ABOVE PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION OR DON’T READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE

Jungkook stretched and hummed in his chair as he saved the last copy of the song he was working on, his shirt riding up, exposing his stomach to the air conditioning that was circulating crisp, cold air around the room. He preferred his studio to be quite cold while he was working late as it would keep him awake, to the point where he would lose track of time and would only go home because one of his hyungs told him to either by calling him incessantly until he picked up or actually dragging him out of his studio.

He grabbed his bag from the couch behind him and began packing everything up quickly, wanting nothing more than to cuddle with Y/N and love her with everything he had. He grabbed her phone and glanced at the time. It was just past midnight. His gorgeous girl had left just under two hours ago and he felt bad because he had promised he would be an hour at the most. He made sure everything was properly turned off and logged out. He pushed his chair back under his desk with his foot before moving out of the studio and locking the door behind him.

He knew that when he got home everyone would be asleep. They normally stayed up until everyone was home, but if Y/N had told the others that he was close behind then they would have gone to bed, knowing that he would be back soon. He said a quick goodbye to the night guards before moving into the parking lot and getting into his car.

He drove quickly but carefully back. The streets of Seoul were quite quiet since it was the middle of the night, but it was something Jungkook found quite relaxing. He loved the glimmering of the streetlights and neon shop lights against the dark sky. There were no stars tonight - it was too cloudy, but Seoul made up for that, the lights on the tips of the skyscrapers becoming artificial stars. He wanted to take Y/N out for a date like this, driving through Seoul and then eating junk food on the hood of his car somewhere secluded while looking at the sky and scenery, enjoying each other’s presence. He would do that with her soon, when his schedule wasn’t as hectic.

He pulled into the underground parking lot of the group’s flat and jogged to their apartment, not being able to keep away from his gorgeous girl any longer. He needed her in his arms.

He unlocked the door and toed off his shoes, instantly being met with the sight of his hyungs sat together in the living room and no Y/N in sight.

“Where the hell have you been?” Yoongi asked, getting up and embracing the boy before taking hold of his ear and twisting it. Jungkook yelped in pain.

“I was in the Golden Closet. Didn’t Y/N tell you?” Jungkook moved to cup his ear to help with the pain but Yoongi stopped his hand. “Speaking of, where is my gorgeous girl?”

“We thought she was with you, Kook.” Hoseok replied.

“But she left before me, like two hours ago. Sejin-ssi picked her up. She said she would come straight here, hyung.” Jungkook explained, biting at his thumb nervously. His head was instantly filled with negative thoughts. Which if their car had been hijacked by saesangs? What if they had been in an accident?

“Jungkook!” Yoongi yelled, getting his attention. “I asked you a question?”

“I’m sorry, hyung, I didn’t hear you, can you please repeat it?” Jungkook took a shaky breath, feeling himself on the verge of a panic attack.

“I said are you sure Sejin-ssi picked her up?” Yoongi repeated himself.

“I don’t know, I think so. He did text me saying he had got her.” Jungkook collapsed on one of the sofas, holding his head in his hands. “Hyung, what if they got in an accident? What if a saesang intercepted the car?”

“Hey, hey, Yoongi hyung, calm down, you’re scaring him.” Namjoon said, putting his hands on the older’s shoulders and sitting him down. “Okay, now, Kook you need to calm down, okay? Don’t panic.” He noticed the maknae’s breathing speeding up and tears streaming down his face.

“I should have left with her when she said she was tired. I shouldn’t have stayed later. I just wanted to finish the song. It was me who suggested it.” Namjoon sighed and sat down, pulling the younger boy onto his lap.

“How about we call her? It’s most likely that she asked Sejin to stop for ice cream or something like that. You know how much of a sweet tooth she has.” Namjoon suggested, rubbing the maknae’s back to calm him down. He hated seeing him this upset.

“We can’t call her. She left her phone.” Jungkook said. “I should have followed her. I should have chased after her and given it to her when I realised she had left it. I’m a terrible boyfriend.” More tears poured down his face, his doll-like lips becoming pouted.

“Hey, no, you aren’t. We’ll just call Sejin, okay.” Namjoon reassured him. “Jungkook, you are not a terrible boyfriend. You are amazing. She loves you so much.” Namjoon looked over to the rest of the members. “One of you call Sejin-ssi. I’m going to get Kookie some comfortable clothes and then try and calm him down, okay?”

“I’ll call him.” Jimin volunteered, pulling out his phone. He tapped a few things on the screen and put the call on speaker. The ringing tone filled the room for a few moments before someone picked up. “Sejin-ssi?”

It was silent before someone spoke. Someone who was definitely not Sejin. “Hmm, no, how about you try again?” The person replied, making Jimin look up at his hyungs with wide eyes.

“Who is this? Why do you have Sejin’s phone?” Yoongi asked, his voice firm and serious. There was a chuckle from the other end of the phone and a noise that sounded like a whimper of pain.

“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you about me. I used to be her one and only and know she walks around acting like a little whore with not one but seven men and I need to correct that.” The man sounded menacing. Jungkook gulped and looked at Yoongi, his doe eyes full of fear. Yoongi looked like he was ready to murder someone, and Jungkook knew that he was going to take the main brunt of his anger.

“Jackson?” Yoongi had no emotion in his voice. This happened when he was really scared or really angry. It was like his body shut down any way he could be seen as weak.

“Jackson stop! Please!” They heard you beg. Jungkook bit his lip, not wanting to hear his girlfriend being hurt and not being able to do anything about it.

“I never said you could speak, stupid bitch.” There was a slap and a stifled shout. “Wish I could speak longer but I have some things to do.”

“Wait, jagiya, we’re coming to find you. We’re not giving up on you. We love you.” Yoongi shouted just before the call was ended. There was a beep. Jimin shouted in frustration and threw his phone across the room.

“This is all my fault.” Jungkook whispered to himself.

“Damn right it is!” Yoongi shouted, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up. “Why would you not go with her? How could you let her go by herself! What the actual fuck, Jungkook!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”

“You never do! You only do what you want to do! You’re so selfish, Jeon Jungkook!” Yoongi was seething. Jungkook gulped. “Your sorry doesn’t fix anything! She is gone! She is back with that pathetic excuse for a man and is probably not going to make it! You know what she told me? If she was ever with Jackson again, she was going to kill herself! So tell me, Jungkook, what are you going to do? You’ve sent her down the river to her death! Because of you, she’s going to die!”

“Hyung!” Namjoon yelled, making Yoongi drop Jungkook. The maknae skittered away. There was a slam and then silence. “What the hell are you doing? You know how sensitive he is!” Namjoon was angry.

“Jackson has her, Joon. He intercepted Sejin and kidnapped her. He was beating her on the phone.” Yoongi’s voice was shaky. “And it’s all Jungkook’s fault. He should have left with her. He knows that Jackson is out there!”

“How the hell would Jungkook have known Jackson would have the balls to do something like this?” Namjoon asked with an edge to his voice. “He called Sejin to make sure she wasn’t walking home by herself! If he really didn’t care about her, he would have let her make her own way home.”

“If he cared about her, he would have taken her home himself!” Yoongi wasn’t having any of it. In his eyes, Jungkook was at fault here.

“Look, you’re angry and scared. We all are. But that does not give us the right to argue with each other. We need to stick together if we want to get her back.” Namjoon said, remaining calm. He had to. If he fell apart, they all fell apart. “You need to go and cool off. Go to your room and calm yourself down, and then you need to apologise to Jungkook. You’re his hyung, Yoon, and he needs you right now.”

Yoongi looked at his younger member and sighed. Namjoon was right. They couldn’t afford to be arguing with each other. It would make everything a whole lot worse.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Yoongi’s voice was quiet.

“Come on, hyungie. I think you need some Jiminie cuddles.” A small hand took his and pulled him up to his room. “Namjoon hyung, can you call the police, please.” Namjoon pointed to his phone and nodded.

Jimin lay down on Yoongi’s bed and opened his arms. “I’m the big spoon this time.” He said. Yoongi nodded and climbed onto the bed, settling into Jimin’s arms. It was then he allowed the wall to come down and dissolved into tears.

“She said she was going to kill herself, Min.” Yoongi sobbed. “She said she wouldn’t be able to handle being with him for any longer. I don’t. I can’t deal with losing her. I won’t be able to deal with losing her.”

“It will be okay, hyung. Joonie hyung is on the phone with the police now and since he has Sejin’s phone, they will be able to track it and see where they are. PD-nim had a tracker installed into the phone that can’t be turned off in case Sejin ever got kidnapped or we did. They’ll find her.”

“Yes, but if they find her, will they actually find her, or will she just be the shell of herself?” Yoongi said, resting the side of his head on Jimin’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

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

Silence. Darkness. Pain.

The never ending cycle that Y/N was going through. Whatever Jackson had used to knock her out had caused the worse headache. It throbbed, each wave of pain being stronger than the last. She winced as she came around.

Her eyes felt like they were glued together. She tried to open them, but failed. Her eyelids felt too heavy. She also knew that if she opened them she would be faced with the impending doomed reality she was forced to deal with. The reality where she was back with Jackson and had been ripped away from her happy life with her boys.

It was then the most horrible thought flashed through her mind. What if it had all been a dream? What if she had made it all up? Those months where all her fear for Jackson had fizzled out, thinking she was safe? It was a false sense of security. In what world would BTS, the biggest boygroup in the world, be her soulmates? In what world would she deserve seven soulmates? There would only be one way to test if it was real. She had to open her eyes and see if everything was greyscale or full color.

She tried to open her eyes again, but failed. Had he glued her eyes shut? She reached up and felt along her eyelashes. It was crusty but it wasn’t sticky. She pried open her eyelids, pulling them apart with her fingers. She hissed slightly.

Her eyelids were unstuck now, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to open them if the past months had just been a dream. Just open them Y/N, she thought to herself, just open them. You never know.

“Please don’t be grey. Please don’t be grey.” She whispered to herself, gingerly opening her eyes.

She looked around, realising that she was back in that bedroom. Her mother’s lamp was still on the bedside table, although there was a small dark brown stain on it now. Dark brown. That was a color. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least one thing was going well.

“Look who’s up.” A voice drawled. She looked over to the door and saw Jackson lounging against the frame, a belt idly swinging between his fingers. She gulped.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” She glared at him, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her head.

“Because I love you and you love me.” Jackson shrugged. “You belong with me, not with them.”

“I don’t love you, Jackson. I haven’t for a long while.” She spat.

Jackson gasped animatedly. “Someone has some nerve talking to me like that. Where are your manners? Guess I need to teach you again. Kneel and face the bed.”

Y/N ignored him, trying to stand up to him and show him that she wasn’t weak anymore and that she knew her worth and wasn’t scared of him. He slapped the belt across her face. Thankfully he was holding the buckle, but the impact still hurt. She cried out as he pulled her up by her hair and forced her into a kneeling position.

“Listen to me, stupid bitch.” He hit her harshly with the belt. “Just a few months away from me and all your training is gone. Looks like I’ll just have to be harsher with you.” He added a few more hits before throwing his belt somewhere else in the room. “Get on the bed.” He pulled her up by her hair, making her hiss in pain. “Now if you make a sound, I will make this so much worse for you.” He threatened.

Y/N gulped and nodded, allowing him to force her into a position on the bed. Her back and shoulders hurt so much. He forced her onto her hands and knees. He groaned. “Now that is a sight I have missed.” He rubbed his hands over her ass.

Y/N’s heartbeat sped up and her breathing quickened. Was he about to rape her? She tried to move away from him, but he grabbed onto her hips. “Stop!” He shouted, hitting her back over one of the open wounds from his belt. She cried out and crumpled forwards. He pressed his hips against her. “See how much I’ve missed you.” He was hard against her. She didn’t want this.

“Get away from me. Don’t. Please don’t.”

“I said no talking!” A harsh smack to her inner thigh followed before he ripped off her panties. She silently scolded herself for wearing a skirt. If she had been wearing jeans she would have been able to fight against this better. She would have had more time. She sobbed as she heard him push his jeans down. Before he could do anything to her, a phone started ringing.

“Fuck sake.” He groaned, answering it as he stroked over her lower back and thighs.

“Sejin-ssi?” It was Jimin. Y/N felt some relief flood through her body. She knew that Sejin had an unremovable tracker built into his phone that could not be switched off and she knew Jackson had no knowledge of it. Jackson dug his nails into her skin before he spoke.

“Hmm, no, how about you try again?” Jackson smirked, knowing he had full power here.

“Who is this? Why do you have Sejin’s phone?” Yoongi sounded angry. Y/N knew that he was not going to rest until he found her.

Jackson set the phone down and whispered into Y/N’s ear. “If you say one thing, I will kill you.” He threatened. “Now, shut up and be good.” He chuckled as he picked up the phone, pushing into the poor girl. She whimpered, the dry friction hurting her.

“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you about me. I used to be her one and only and know she walks around acting like a little whore with not one but seven men and I need to correct that.” Jackson rolled his hips against her, making her bury her head and cry. She didn’t know if they could hear her.

“Jackson?” Yoongi figured it out, but Y/N had just switched off. She hated this. She wanted out.

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.” Jackson said snarkily. “I didn’t think your boyfriends were this dumb, but maybe they were in order to actually fall in love with someone like you.” He reached down and grabbed his belt again. “Maybe you lured them in like the little slut you are. Desperate for attention and sex.” He brought the leather down against her skin, this time not holding the buckle. She felt the metal tear open her skin, leaving fresh wounds that would sometimes go over the ones he had already done. It hurt so much. Y/N just wanted it to be over. She couldn’t do this again. He hit her again, making her scream out in pain.

“Jackson, stop! Please!” She yelled, her hands curling in the sheets to relieve some of the pain.

“I never said you could speak, stupid bitch.” Jackson slapped her before grabbing his belt and wrapping it around her neck tightly. She could feel her air supply being cut off. She released a stifled scream, clawing at the leather around her neck. “Wish I could speak longer but I have some things to do.” He said into the phone.

Before he could hang up, Y/N heard Yoongi talking directly to her. “Wait, jagiya, we’re coming to find you. We’re not giving up on you. We love you.”

“Yoongi! I love you all too!” She yelled but Jackson had cut the call.

“Now... where were we?” He sounded menacing. Y/N sobbed as she felt him begin to move.

But now she had that small glimmer of hope that they would be able to find her. One day she would be out of here and she held onto that. For them.

#sub!reader #sub!taehyung #sub!jimin #sub!jungkook #switch!jin #dom!hoseok #dom!namjoon #dom!yoongi #bts ot7 #bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #boys with luv #soulmate au #just one day

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winterromanov · 5 years

Note

Maybe a college Bucky one where he’s being playing games out of town, and trying to study for exams and he’s just so tired but trying to keep going and reader makes him nap and relax and it’s just very Soft ☺️

pairing: bucky x reader (set in the same universe as this fic)

Trying to play football and also be a competent college student is an Incredibly Difficult Feat. You know this, because watching Bucky vault himself from away games to home games to mid terms to finals is about the most exhausting thing you’ve ever seen. If he’s not studying he’s at practice, and if he’s not playing he’s in an exam. It’s like watching a manic, sleep-deprived whirlwind, living almost entirely off coffee and takeout noodles.

He’s not taking care of himself. He’s pushing and pushing and pushing, trying not to let anybody down--as if he could ever do that.

“You don’t have anything to prove,” you say, as he crashes face-down on the bed in your dorm, the night before he leaves to play a game at Harvard and minutes after his Cold War history deadline. You’ve not seen him eat anything the last twenty-four hours. “Look--you won the last game. Steve said you could sit this one out.”

A vague mumbling comes from your bed. His face is smothered by the pillow and he’s too exhausted to even turn over, so you poke his ass with your foot. His hand reaches out, reflexes still ridiculously quick, pulling you onto the bed with him.

“Sorry, love,” you smirk, curling as close to him as your tiny mattress will allow. His arm pulls you close to his waist, palm splayed across your back. His heartbeat is unrelenting beneath his shirt, thudding between you. “Didn’t quite hear that one.”

His head shifts so you’re basically nose-to-nose, his grin sleepy and delirious. He’s gonna pass out any second. You’ve seen it many, many times before in the last hectic few weeks--you’re probably gonna see it a few more. “I’ll be fine after nap. Promise.”

“Don’t you dare fall asleep before I can force a pizza down you,” you warn, and he laughs, deliberately snuggling into the pillow and letting his eyes flicker closed. You can’t resist--running your hand through his hair, along his face. Kiss his forehead. “Goddamn it, Buck. You’re making it very difficult for me to look after you.”

“You being here is enough,” he says softly and before you have chance to reply he’s gone, lost in some dream. You slowly creep out of his embrace, making the pizza for him anyway. By the time you wake up the next day his body is a phantom shape in your bed but the pizza is gone--he’s left you a bright pink post-it note on the plate. Scribbled in his usual scrawl are the words thank you always favourite girl.

we won!!! harvard ain’t better than us at FOOTBALL

wish u could have been there

renaissance lit is being a bitch :(( well done you STAR. miss you more every moment so get back quick

should i hijack the bus and speed down the freeway

if you must

consider it done

love you

love you more than anything

The next game is thankfully a home one against Yale so you can at least keep an eye on him--you’re just protective, that’s all, not wanting him to burn out in front of you. There’s a lot of gym sessions and library cramming and a grand total of one dinner date at his apartment, where you made a pasta dish with as many vegetables as you could think of in as possible (his mom had sent you a message afterwards with immense gratitude because her son needed his greens, damn it). The following evening you’d wrapped yourself in one of his jerseys and sat in the bleachers alongside an injured Sam--injured and bitter about it--and waited in the lights and the noise for the game to begin.

“Bucky tells me you’re worried about him,” Sam interjects rather suddenly and when you blink back, he shrugs his non-injured shoulder nonchalantly. “Not that I blame you. That dude just doesn’t let up, does he?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shivering a little. The November air is cold, even wearing Bucky’s sweater. “He keeps telling me the season will be over before long, but I...I don’t want that to be a couple of weeks too much for him, you know?”

Sam hums thoughtfully. Around you, the crowd practically fizzes with excitement, covered with facepaint and aggressively chanting team songs at the opposing side. You’d never been to a college football game before you started dating one of the team’s star players, but you have to admit, the atmosphere is kinda addictive. Watching Bucky play is kinda addictive.

“If I know Bucky, and boy do I know him,” Sam eventually replies, squeezing up closer to you as more people gather into your stand. A girl is openly staring at you both--it doesn’t happen that often, but more so at games. People know Bucky, and Sam, so people know you. “He’ll get through this all okay. He always does, (Y/N). I’d been pretty damn surprised if he doesn’t make captain next year.”

You stare at the bright, clean grass of the field, and think of a boy so fucking exhausted from trying to balance his life that he can barely function half the time. Bucky would be an awesome captain. You just don’t want him to become a dead firework because of it.

The game ends up being pretty close but Yale just snatch the victory. It doesn’t mean that they can’t win the season, but. Bucky makes his way over to your stand at the end of the game like he always does, taking off his helmet and mouthguard. He also looks extremely deflated, like he always does when they lose.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking his face in your hands. He looks angry at himself. And you know what he’s thinking. I should have pushed harder. “Shit happens. You were still amazing.”

He kisses you over the barrier in a display of affection you were once too shy to give away in public, but you need him as much as he needs you. When you break apart you plant a chaste, gentle peck on his jawline, running your thumb over the shadow.

“You two make me sick,” Sam interrupts the moment, arms folded. Bucky flips him off while smiling sweetly and you can’t help but laugh. “Honestly. Didn’t ask to be violated, but here we are.”

“Payback for every single time I’ve walked in on you doing unspeakable things with the girl from the top floor on our kitchen counter.” Bucky snaps back teasingly. You like watching the banter unfold between the two of them. You’d be worried if Bucky and Sam weren’t taking the piss at every given opportunity.

Sam gestures pointedly at his injured right shoulder. “I cannot believe you’d treat a fallen comrade like that. I’m disgusted.”

“And so was I when I saw the state of the kitchen counter.” Bucky gives you one last kiss, clutching your hand. “See you after I hit the showers, yeah?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Your promise him, and his eyes glow just a little brighter.

When Bucky facetimes you from Brown the very next week, he looks like he hasn’t slept for at least three days. His Ancient Chinese history exam is literally a day after he arrives back from the trip and he’s frantically cramming in his hotel room in Rhode Island, while also trying not to fuck up the team’s chances of winning the season.

“Just one more game after this,” his grainy voice says on the other end of the video feed, head lolling against the headboard of his Holiday Inn bed. You wish he was in your bed. God, you wish he was in your bed. “And the season is over and I don’t have to be away from you ever again.”

“I don’t think your mom would like it if I stole you away for Thanksgiving.” You joke, tongue poking between your teeth. His lips curve, half a laugh escaping from his chest.

“That’s why she personally invited you to stay with us for the holidays. She’s worried you might sneak in there first and drag me to Virginia. She already knows I’d go wherever you go.”

Your smile is kinda wistful. “Except when you go to Rhode Island.”

“Except when I go to Rhode Island.” He repeats, sighing dramatically. He rubs one of his tired eyes. “Ugh. Who thought coinciding pre-Thanksgiving exams and football season was a good idea, huh?”

“I have no idea, but I’m prepared to have words with them.” You tilt your head. “Don’t work too hard, yeah? It’s one exam. It’ll all be okay in the end.”

“I know, I know.”

You want to keep talking, on and on until the early hours like you do sometimes, because time is apparently not real when you and Bucky are on the phone together. But he needs sleep, and you need sleep, and occasionally you’ll do things for the greater good. “Good luck for tomorrow. Brown won’t know what’s hit ‘em.”

“They better not,” he jokes, “Will you be live-streaming the game?”

As if you wouldn’t. You can’t pretend that you always know what’s going on or any of the rules, but you always try to watch him if you can. He’d do the same for you, over and over and over. “Already got the tab open on my laptop and everything.”

Bucky’s grin is near effervescent, even through your patchy wifi connection. “I love you more than anything, you know that?”

“I may have had an inkling.”

hello y/n

HELLLOOOOO

u know brown are the best losers because they lose and give you TEQUILA

omg are you drunk

never been DRUNK IN MY LIFE!!!! but im at this cool party and stEv e has found a girl and i miss u

i miss u so much . and like i just do generally

whenever ur not ar oUnd

oh sweet boy. you are very drunk.

im serious though

sometimes i think about how much i love you and it scares me

because then i th ink what it would be like if you wreent there

and that makes me so fucking sad i cant breathe

y/n

y/n ???????????????

hellooo

have u gone to bed

no, just messaging steve to make sure he gets you back safe. im not going anywhere. just please please look after yourself. love you always

“I’m sorry about those messages I sent you last night.”

You grab him in the tightest hug possible, his hold all still hanging off his arm, rain spattering down from dark clouds outside his apartment block. You hold him for at least ten years, you reckon, because the thought of him being so fucking sad he can’t breathe makes you so fucking sad you can’t breathe.

“You’re a terrible drunk who says things that make me emotional.” You laugh tearfully into his sweater and he grips you even harder, if possible. The shards of glass jabbed between your ribs start to dissolve as you inhale every single part of him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I know.”

His last game is the day of your renaissance literature exam and for once you’ve been the one not eating and relying on caffeine, anxiety lingering round your jittery bones like an irritating ghost. Your interactions with Bucky are a battle between you wishing him aggressive luck for what could be the winning game while he equally aggressively says your exam will go fine, they always go fine, it’s an easy A for sure.

Your exam isn’t until the afternoon so you spend the morning pacing about your bedroom looking at a sporadic mess of post-it notes on your wall declaring quotes and context that you hope will just stick in your brain. When Lizzie from down the hall says there’s a package for you you don’t actually think much of it, too busy to deal with something you’ve probably forgotten you ordered from Amazon--but she makes some comment about how fancy it is, wrapped up in striped paper.

Your name is in print across the front so it doesn’t leave a clue on the sender, but as soon as you rip into it and find a bundle of things nestled between tissue paper, you know instantly. It’s kind of embarrassing you didn’t click sooner.

Dear Y/N - you’ll ace it, favourite gal.

You try not to break down in sleep-deprived and emotional tears as you pull out a brand new sweater in your favourite shade of burgundy, a vintage copy of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, three different kind of Hershey’s bars and a dumb little teddy bear wearing your college jersey. He’s sent you a fucking care package. He’s away at Princeton, and he’s sent you a care package, because exams drive you crazy and he’s just... Well, he’s Bucky.

i got your present

have i ever mentioned that i love you

i may have had an inkling

He doesn’t really leave you a choice, does he? Besides, the game is only at Princeton, and if you catch the train the moment you escape the uneasy warmth of a crowded exam hall you should be able to get there in time.

You’ve never been to Princeton stadium before, but you grab one of the last tickets available and rush onto their crowded bleachers just before the game is about to begin. The lights are heady, the atmosphere is electric, and you’re about to watch the man you lovingly, completely, unrelentingly call your own play the game he loves almost as much as you at a stadium forty miles from home.

hey steve, you text his closest friend, hoping he’ll see it, get buck to look at the front of the stairs near block d when you come out

y/n if this is what i think it means he’s going to lose his goddamn mind

When the team runs out you notice the number five on his jersey straight away, a constant fleeting image in your head from the countless games you’ve seen him play. Even from a distance, Steve’s eyes catch your own and his arm starts gesturing violently in your direction, Bucky taking a couple of moments to catch on.

It’s a good job the game isn’t due to start for a few more minutes, because absolutely nothing can stop him from automatically sprinting to your side of the field and kissing you senseless, cameras and crowds be damned.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he says on a dizzy outtake of breath.

“Couldn’t miss the last game of the season, could I?” You gently push his chest, urging him to go back to his team. “And neither can you. Go back to them. I’ll be waiting.”

He steals your lips for one more second, giddy and pumped full of adrenaline. “I really lucked out the day I met you, didn’t I?”

His mouth is hot. Hot. Unmistakable. Real. Always, always real. “Not as lucky as me.”

my masterlist

send me a request

#big oof #ridiculously fluffy #soft bucky #college!bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe

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capricornus-rex · 5 years

Note

Hey isk if you are taking requests right now, but I’ll shoot my shot anyway : Can I request an imagine with Cal Kestis where the reader is also a Jedi who’s feeling down/sad (for whatever reason you feel like) and Cal feels it through the force and helps her feel better?? Loads of fluff and kisses if possible, thank you I really love your writing🥺🥺💖

Hi there! Yeah, I’m taking requests right now ^-^ that’s an interesting prompt you got there. Coincidentally, I was starting a fic that seem to have blended well with your request ;) I hope you enjoy this fic, hun! And thank you, you’re very kind 🥺🥺💖

“Bad Dreams Don’t Come True”

Cal Kestis x Reader

Masterlist

The chirping of the crickets hidden amongst the tall grass, the whispers of the Saava within the tree roots and niches, the snoring of the Slyyygs in their damp dens—Kashyyyk is asleep. The water trickling from the rocks and trees was enough of a lullaby to drift the partisans to sleep. However, even in the midst of peace, there is a storm brewing within.

You lie awake in bed, keeping the tossing and the turning to a minimum. Cal’s breathing kept a slow rhythm. You study his face illuminated by what little light there is in the ship’s quarters; you trace the freckles that riddled his cheeks and your eyes follow the scar on his nose bridge that had already blended into his skin. Slight flits of his eyelids and the little twitches the corner of his mouth made you wonder what he might be dreaming about.

You leave bed and head on to the galley for a cup of water. Contemplating on what to do with the insomnia. After one last chug of the water, you immediately went back to bed and mentally coaxed yourself to sleep.

The next morning, Cal woke up to finding your side of the bed empty. He gets up and walks to the galley.

“Good morning, Cal,” Cere greeted while pouring tea. “Have some breakfast first.”

“And [y/n]?”

Cere shot him a clueless look, “She went out early, said she needed to do something.”

“Did she now? Where?”

“Last I saw her she was just here at the landing pad.”

Cal stepped out of the Mantis but does not see you. He finds your handiwork at the west corner of the hangar instead—tools and datapads scattered on the floor. It’s a mess.

Shortly after, you arrive back to your spot in the hangar and find Cal crouched to the floor peering over your work.

“Good morning,” you simply said.

“Hey, good morning. You’re up early,”

“Yeah, fancied fixing this speeder bike I hijacked from a scout. Nothing I can’t fix though,”

He watched you tinker away with the speeder’s chassis on the table. You were so absorbed with it, but he stayed there—watching you and sometimes handing over the tools you needed but was within his reach. He knew that you were just trying to distract yourself.

“You were tossing and turning last night,” Cal finally starts the conversation.

“Sorry, I tried to be careful. I didn’t mean to wake you,”

“Bad dream?”

“It’s nothing I can’t sleep off,”

Cal nodded, he knows that he’s not going to get to you that easily. Yet he can see how upset you are, even when you’re denying it until the lie you tell yourself becomes truth. Whatever question he throws, you either segue to a different topic or just don’t answer at all.

He gave up for now. He didn’t want to upset you further and left you to your business. There were times that he still wanted his presence known such as lending you more of his tools and parts, handing you some lunch when you forgot to eat.

He may not see the whole picture of the thoughts in your mind, but he can sense your feelings—they were strong, loud, and dark. The latter worried him. There was a swirling darkness about it that he wanted to know more about, he bit his tongue, thinking that he didn’t want to further upset you by pressing into the matter.

Later that night, Cal begged you to stop for tonight. Clearly, the speeder bike needed a lot of work considering the wear and tear it had gotten over time. The chassis you worked on was a bust and you had to figure out what else it needed to get it running again.

“Come on,” Cal coaxed. “Don’t make me carry you against your will.”

“Oh I bet you’d love that,” you teased as you unzipped your jumpsuit’s top and tied the sleeves around your waist.

You got your consequence. Cal reeled you in by the waist, riddled your ticklish neck with kisses before scooping you up in his arms and marching to the Mantis. Lying down together, neither of you spoke whilst cuddling; he just glided his fingertips over your smooth skin—he reached for your thighs, traced to your arms, and then your collarbone. Ironically, his battle-scarred hands had a certain softness that relaxed you. He planted a kiss on your bare shoulder, then his lips wandered to your neck, and then a long, final one on the cheek before drifting to sleep.

You were almost too afraid to doze off. Because there will be no control from you by the time the nightmares set in—but you were exhausted.

Your eyes shot up, you gasped and woke in a cold sweat. You could have sworn you only closed your eyes for a few seconds, but it somehow felt like hours since. Massaging the bridge of your nose, you wonder if you were awake or dreaming because it still feels like real life although a little different. You find Cal missing in bed, you hear a clattering noise coming from the galley. The anxiety faded.

Oh thank God, he must be having a glass of water. You thought.

You stand up from bed and call to him again. Not a single response, not a grunt or whatever. Nonetheless, you head to the galley—only to find it empty. Your eyebrows pulled in confusion and looked around—it clearly wasn’t your little stowaway, otherwise it would have been caught red-handed. Something wasn’t right. You immediately untied and wore your jumpsuit on and then headed out of the ship.

“Cal?”

The hangar was empty, so is the hallway that led to the elevator between the hangar and forest trench. More noise came from the narrow annex on the right, you continued to follow it in the hope that it would be Cal—it was empty again, yet something in it drew you to jump down from the platform.

Something came from behind, you sensed the danger the split second your boots touched the soil below. You turned around with lightsaber already ignited and found an opening that had never been there before. A menacing figure emerged from the pitch black mouth of the cave. Whatever it was, it didn’t idle in the darkness for too long, it was eager to face you. Here comes the one you have been looking for—but not exactly in the way you wanted to.

It was Cal. His face had been distorted. The lining of his eyes were swollen red, bags were under them too, and the skin of his face had become sallow; but there was a frightening tenacity in the way he appeared before you. You sucked in air and held your arms up.

“Cal? Is it…? No…”

The only reaction that came from him was a low, throaty growl as his face wrinkled with anger—one that seems to be directed only to you.

He wielded a red lightsaber, there was rage and hate in his eyes that you couldn’t comprehend; at the same time, there was something in you that you couldn’t stop—let alone control—you dueled with this impersonator. In a second’s notice, you immediately thrusted your saber into his heart and realized it too little too late.

The look on his face was wrought with pain. He kept his mouth agape while he choked to breathe. Blood trickled from his eyes as he croaked, struggling to either speak or catch air. Every second that he tried, more blood dripped until it filled out the whites in his eyes. You retracted the saber out of him and the body fell limp at your feet—dead open eyes crying out blood as they stared back at you. The sight was utterly terrorizing. You wanted to blink, close your eyes, or avert from it but you just can’t—you’re stuck to staring at what you just did.

“Good…” a raspy, ancient voice chanted.

You spun around, searching for the source; desperate to find it, the moving has finally made you dizzy and caused you to lose your footing.

The voice easily shifts its tone. At first, it sounded somewhat benevolent, but even so it sent chills down your spine from end to end. Although it eventually turns into a croaking snarl, adding up to the fear of its invisible yet all-seeing presence looming about. Something about that voice was oddly familiar.

“He was weak, you knew from the start,”

NO! You fought.

“Your anger rewards you with great power. The Dark side of the Force favors you,” the voice snarled, emphasizing its latter words.

I SAID…

“NO!” You jolt up, found yourself in a cold sweat gasping for air with the fullness of your lungs.

You immediately jumped out of bed and walked out of the quarters, Cal felt the shuffling of the sheets and felt you leaving bed. He blinked his eyes open, saw you leave, and heard the ship door open. He got up too—he didn’t bother suiting up the top part of his jumpsuit—he simply followed you out.

He finds you sitting alone at the edge of the landing pad where he blew up an entire tank with the AT-AT he hijacked. He sat beside you and just relished the silence for a few moments.

“Nightmare?”

“Yes,”

“If it helps, you can talk to me about it,” he persisted to find your gaze as you avoided it, he shyly reached for your hand, and he fiddled with your fingers.

Oh, you sweet, clueless boy. You thought as you looked Cal in the eye while he pursed his lips in, but you couldn’t look at him for long. You look away, contemplating whether you have the strength to put the words and thought together and then say it in front of his face.

He gently cradles your cheek and turns your face to him. He brushes the hair to your ear and cups your cheeks, keeping you locked to his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay, you can tell me,”

It didn’t take long before you decided to narrate everything from the start to the end. No detail was spared until you started to hesitate when that certain part is almost there. You sucked in air, closed your eyes, and prepared yourself for whatever reaction or comment he’ll have for you.

“Your eyes were yellow. We fought. I killed you…” you choked but attempted to finish, “And then you started crying out blood while you died in front of me—by my hand.”

The concluding part was hearing the voice that was trying to reach into you, by using the Dark side.

“Has it been getting to you often lately?”

“It’s been two days and a half now—if you count today,”

Cal’s face was blank, but the slight twitches in his lips were evident; he could only wonder what the actual picture looked like and concluded that he doesn’t want to know. That dream just burned an awful picture of Cal in your mind. He noticed your erratic fidgeting: your cracked nails were ripping out the cuticles and when that started to hurt, your knuckles were white as bone when you close your hand into a fist.

He saw the way you looked down on your mutilation with great disdain, the moonlight reflected on the tears that glazed your eyes until one teardrop fell. His finger wiped away the stain that the tear left and wrapped his arm around you, pulled you closer for an embrace, and his one hand was enough to hold both of your hands to stop you from hurting yourself.

“It’s alright now, [y/n], don’t worry,” he cooed.

You wrap your small arm around him, embracing him back. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers—wounded or not—and then planted more kisses on the palm of your hand. Later on, his attention trailed to your lips. He brushes the back of his fingers smoothly against your cheek, and then tenderly locked his lips onto yours and he rakes your hair in the sweet spots. Both of you withdrew but he followed up with a kiss on the forehead before propping his chin on your head. His other hand stroked your hair while you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I know you’ll never hurt me, [y/n], you’ve nothing to fear,” he hummed in your ear as he scooped your legs and rested them over his thighs, while he cuddled you warm and tight under the moonlight.

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flowerfan2 · 4 years

Text

Group Texts Are Ridiculous (Or, Five-0 Starts a Group Text)

Somehow I managed to post Chapter 2 on A03 a few days ago without posting on tumblr... I’m not sure how many people actually depend on tumblr for fic these days, but in case you do, here you go!

McDanno, T, A03

Summary: After 10x22 when Steve leaves Oahu to go find himself, Five-0 starts a group text to keep in touch while Steve’s away. Picks up after the end of Season 10.

Chapter 2

May 20, 2020

SM: Hey, where’s Danny?

LG: With Tani, I think, heading to a crime scene on the north shore. Sure glad to have him back. Otherwise it would have been me getting up at the ass crack of dawn when Duke called.

SM: Does Danny seem ready?

LG: Ready to come back to work? Sure. Shirts are crisp, slacks nicely pressed, hair sprayed firmly in place. Your boy looks great.

SM: Ribs not hurting him anymore?

LG: Maybe a little, but it’s not slowing him down much.

SM: He hasn’t been answering my texts.

LG: Did you do something to piss him off?

SM: Probably. I usually do. Not sure what this time, though.

TR: Don’t stress, boss. Danny’s right here, looking sharp as always. we’re in the car.

SM: Tani, what have I said about no driving and texting?

TR: I’m not - Danny’s driving.

SM: Can I talk to him? Put it on speaker.

TR: That would require you to actually call him. Maybe give it a few minutes though? We’re a little busy right now.

SM: What, he can’t drive and talk on the phone at the same time?

TR: It’s the dodging of bullets that might make that challenging. Not that Danny isn’t a great multi-tasker, but it seems like an unnecessary risk.

SM: Tani, what the hell is going on?

LG: Damn. On my way.

SM: Tani, report, now.

JR: What just happened?

SM: Junior, why aren’t you with Danny? And where’s Quinn?

JR: Day off, sorry sir.

SM: Someone call HPD, why don’t you have any back up?

TR: No worries, the perp’s not chasing us anymore. His car flipped over and sort of slid down the dunes. Probably not good for the birds. But he definitely stopped shooting, so it’s all good.

DW has changed the name of the group text to My Camaro has another bullet hole and it’s Steve’s fault

May 21, 2020

SM: We have to talk about yesterday.

DW: Everything’s fine, Steve.

SM: It didn’t sound like it.

DW: We had it under control.

SM: Why was Tani texting when people were shooting at you? She should have been covering you, or calling for back up. She should have seen it coming. You should never have been in that position in the first place.

DW: One, Tani did nothing wrong, and two, mind your own beeswax.

SM: Mind my own – what’s that supposed to mean?

DW: Think about it for a minute, you’ll figure it out.

SM: Are you even recovered enough for active duty?

DW: Oh, now you’re interested in my health?

SM: Danny, Five-0 is still my team, my responsibility.

DW: Is it, now? Funny, because I’m pretty sure the governor told me I’m in charge.

SM: Temporarily.

DW: Indefinitely. Or have you booked a flight home that you haven’t told us about?

SM: Danny, we’ve been over this.

DW: Don’t I know it.

SM: I’m just concerned about all of you.

DW: Great. Come home and take your job back. Otherwise keep your mouth shut.

SM: I’m not criticizing, it’s just that it doesn’t seem like yesterday went exactly according to plan.

DW: According to plan? Since when have you ever done anything according to plan? You are the head of not having a plan, the Czar of plan-less-ness, the President of who needs a fucking plan.

LG: You guys do remember this is a group text, right?

June 2, 2020

JR: Do any of you know what was in the package Danny got today?

TR: You could just ask him.

JR: I would, but he opened it up and then locked himself in his office and he’s been on the phone for half an hour.

QL: Might be a sign that he wants some privacy.

TR: You think?

JR: So I shouldn’t ask him?

TR: No, you should definitely ask him. But maybe bring him some malasadas when you barge into his office, it might soften the blow.

LG: Or distract him enough that he doesn’t hit your head when he throws something at you.

DW: It’s kind of late for malasadas, but I’d love a sandwich from Machete’s. Turkey and salami, Italian dressing instead of mayo.

JR: Yes sir.

LG: You’re enjoying this boss thing, aren’t you, Danny?

DW: It’s good to be king. At least where lunch is concerned.

TR: So are you going to tell us what was in the package?

DW: Will you do my paperwork for the week?

TR: Yesterday you said I was worse at paperwork than Steve.

DW: Good point. Will you get Junior to do my paperwork?

JR: Hey, wait a minute, I’m getting the sandwiches.

TR: Deal. Don’t worry Junes, I’ll make it worth your while.

LG: TMI, children.

…

LG: Tani, spill. What was in the package?

DW: A stuffed squirrel. A stuffed animal. Not, like, a once was alive squirrel, like a toy.

QL: Who sent it to him?

TR: Apparently that piece of information wasn’t part of the deal.

JR: It’s from Steve.

TR: Danny told you?

JR: No, I looked at the return address. He put the package in the recycle bin in the break room.

DW: At least someone here has some detective skills.

LG: Okay, I’ll bite. Danny, why did Steve send you a squirrel? Is it for Charlie?

DW: Nope, it’s mine. And anyone who touches it is dead.

JR: So… who’s gonna grab it?

LG: Junior, I’d think twice. Danny’s got the power to assign you to walking the beat for the rest of the summer. I think that squirrel looks great right there where it is on Danny’s desk.

TR: He can be our honorary Five-0 mascot.

DW: Exactly. The very first Hawaiian squirrel.

DW: But let me reiterate, you may not touch him. If I see a tiny aloha shirt or a lei on my squirrel, heads will roll.

TR: I like this side of you, Danny. Very authoritative.

DW: The children do not respect me, Lou.

LG: Didn’t the governor say he needed extra security at that concert Saturday night?

DW: The heavy metal battle of the bands? The one that lasts for five hours, and features not just professional bands, but appearances from some of the most popular amateur head-banging groups around? Hm, I think he did. I was going to check with HPD to make sure it was covered. Do you think they need personal attention from Five-0?

TR: Danny, you might notice that a note has just been slipped under your door. It’s from me and Junior, attesting to our sincere understanding that the squirrel is off limits. Just in case you were wondering.

DW: And all is right with the world again.

LG: Amen, brother.

TR: But just out of curiosity, what are you going to name your apology squirrel? Pineapple?

DW: Thin ice, my friend, thin ice.

TR has changed the name of the group text to First Hawaiian Squirrel Fan Club

June 20, 2020

JR: Anyone want to come over and watch Jurassic Park with me and Charlie? We went a little overboard with the snacks.

LG: What kind of snacks?

JR: Primarily pretzels. For some reason I had never really looked that closely at the pretzel aisle at Foodland before. We got chocolate covered pretzels, pretzels stuffed with peanut butter, honey garlic pretzels, and probably some others too.

TR: What brought on this pretzel craving?

JR: Actually Charlie wanted pineapple pretzels.

LG: There is no such thing.

JR: That’s what I thought too, but it turns out I was totally wrong. The ABC store on my block has them.

LG: You are shitting me.

JR: They’re called Pretz. Pineapple flavor. They’re actually pretty good.

LG: Okay, I’m coming over just to taste those. Renee’s out tonight anyway.

TR: You’ll have to save me some. I’m hanging with Koa tonight.

LG: And what does our fearless leader think about pineapple pretzels?

JR: He probably won’t like them, but he’s not home.

TR: Babysitting, Junes?

JR: Charlie’s my pal, he’s not a baby. But yeah.

TR: Where’s Danny?

JR: On a date.

TR: That seems unlikely.

JR: That’s kind of harsh, isn’t it? Danny’s a good looking guy.

TR: Of course he is, that’s not what I meant.

DW: Thanks.

TR: Fuck I keep forgetting we’re all on this text.

JR: Danny, how’s your date going?

DW: It would probably be going better if I wasn’t texting you guys.

SM: Learned that lesson finally, did you?

DW: Steve, isn’t it a little late where you are?

SM: Never too late to help out a friend. Are you wearing the French blue button-down?

DW: No, it got ruined. I’m just wearing a black polo.

SM: Too bad, that’s a great shirt.

DW: I’m going to the mall tomorrow, there’s a sale at Lord & Taylor, I need new shirts. For some reason mine keep getting blood stains on them.

SM: Wish I could go with you, you do better with a wingman.

DW: It’s true, you talked me into buying two of those slim fit dark blue ones, and those are some of my favorites.

SM: Don’t be afraid to try darker shades, Danny. You resist it but in the end you look great.

DW: I did like the dark gray one you made me try on. But not the purple one. It made me look like a gigolo. Anyway blue’s still my favorite.

SM: It’s true, nothing makes your eyes sparkle like a blue shirt.

DW: And good company, of course.

LG: I feel like this thread has been hijacked by aliens.

TR: Aliens who like menswear. Danny, isn’t your date annoyed that you’re spending all this time texting?

DW: Oh, she left. I’ll be home soon, I’m just picking up some ice cream for the Jurassic Park marathon.

JR: I’m so confused.

SM: Don’t overthink it. But make sure Danny tries the pineapple pretzels.

#mcdanno #H50 #H50 fic #Hawaii Five-0 #Danny Williams #Steve McGarrett

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elvendara · 4 years

Text

So, I’ve been cleaning up my fics (OMG I have so many!!!) and came across an Mpreg fic I wrote for Yooran that I completley forgot about! @booyakasha516 introduced me to the genre and I must say, I’ve been intrigued. A pregnant Yoosung! How adorable! Not sure I posted it before, at least I can’t seem to find it LOL

YOORAN FOREVER IN EVERY AU EVER THOUGHT OF AND NOT THOUGHT OF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yoosung pushed the cart down the grocery store aisle. His belly was considerably more noticeable now and it hit the bar. His arms were almost completely straight as he pushed. It was extremely annoying. While he was over the moon to be having Saeran’s baby, it sure did get in the way, making simple things more difficult. He stopped and reached up to get a jar of pickles, the German kind he had begun to crave, that for some reason, was stocked on the top shelf. He stood on tiptoes and reached as high as he could, his belly making it painful to stretch too far.

His belly bumped into the shelf and a jar of olives fell, crashing to the floor, exploding, splashing his shoes, sending olives spilling everywhere.

Yoosung stared at the mess at his feet, tears springing to his eyes. He felt as if he was glued to the spot, unable to move. His entire face was aflame with embarrassment and humiliation. The few shoppers in the same aisle stared at him, one woman curling her lip in distaste and walking away quickly. He wrapped his arms around his growing belly and wept, unable to stop himself. He hated feeling like this, like his emotions had been hijacked. He wished Saeran was with him. He closed his eyes, willing himself home. He knew he was being ridiculous, that he needed to move, find an employee to clean this up, and just leave! He might never return to this store.

He felt a hand lightly on his shoulder and turned, looking through the bangs of his hair, having forgotten his barrettes. He cringed reflexively, thinking that woman had come back to berate him. However, this was a different woman, in her cart sat a baby boy who must have been at least a year old. He giggled at Yoosung, holding out his sticky fingers. The woman was as tall as Yoosung, her brown hair in a messy bun, her blue eyes kind and soft. She smiled at him.

“It’s ok hon, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it, this happens all the time I’m sure.” Her tone was low and steady. “I once knocked over a display of cereal in my seventh month.” She laughed. Yoosung tucked his growing bangs behind his ear and smiled sadly.

“Here.” She said, rummaging in her diaper bag and bringing out a spit rag, handing it to Yoosung. He took it gratefully and began to wipe his face.

“Thank you.” he squeaked. She led him out of the circle of olives, holding on to his hand to steady him as he walked through the juice.

Yoosung grabbed his cart and steered it from the mess. An employee was walking towards them with a wet floor sign, a mop, and a bucket.

“Hi Yoosung.”

“Hi Norman, I…I’m sorry.”

“No worries.” He smiled.

“Are you alright now hon?” the lady asked. Yoosung nodded, still not fine, but not wanting to bother the woman anymore.

The baby grabbed onto his sleeve and pulled, trying to get the fabric in his mouth.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” His mom said, prying the sleeve out of his grubby fingers. “This is what you have to look forward to.” She smiled, but with genuine love in her eyes as she glanced at her son. Yoosung’s heart soared at the thought of having his own.

“It’s ok. Thank you for this, and, for being so kind.” He whispered. He tried to give the rag back to her.

“Keep it! And, don’t worry about people like that woman! I admire what you’re doing. I’ve seen you in here with your husband before.” She smiled and blushed. “He is very attentive, you’re very lucky.” She squeezed his arm, and walked away. Yoosung took his cart and quickly walked to the next aisle, away from his mess. He was a complete mess himself.

He was always so tired, but couldn’t sleep at night. Saeran was indeed quite attentive, he was so happy about their baby and never complained when Yoosung had a sudden craving he had to go get, or when his mood swings sent him from inconsolable mess, to wanton sex god. Yoosung felt bad when he got angry at Saeran, screaming at him for no reason. Saeran bore it well, his lips sometimes thinning out, but he never raised his voice at Yoosung. He could feel his eyes beginning to tear up again. Damn it!

That same woman who had looked at him with disdain was staring at him again. Not even attempting to act as if she was not. Yoosung’s heart beat in his chest again, this time in anger. What the hell was her problem? Hadn’t she ever seen a pregnant man before?

“What are you looking at?” he practically screamed at her.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Blasphemy!” she spit at him. “A degradation of God’s laws! You should be ashamed of yourself! You and your…partner…” she practically choked on the last word.

“How dare you judge me! You don’t know anything about me.” Yoosung shot back, but he was losing his anger, sliding back into despair and humiliation. He clamped his hands on his belly, trying to protect his child, his and Saeran’s child, from the woman’s venom.

What kind of world was he bringing his child into? How would they be treated having two fathers? He knew that there were so many people like the mother and child who made him feel better. But there were also many more people like this woman, who would take every opportunity to be hateful. Out of their own prejudices, or using religion as an excuse.

Had he and Saeran done the right thing? He looked down at his squishy shoes and another tear fell on the soggy mess.

“Hmph.” The woman sounded triumphant. “You are nothing but a freak, and you know it.” her voice dripping with bile. “You are a disgusting human being…”

“The only disgusting thing here is you.” A voice broke in, strong and challenging. Yoosung snapped his head up, his body tingling at the sight of Saeran standing behind the woman, his mint eyes flaring with rage, fists at his side, trembling. His fiery red hair curling in every direction and bathed in the florescent lights like a god.

The woman jerked and hit the shelves, surprised. Her eyes widened in fear as Saeran bore down on her, his jaw clenched.

He loomed over her, Yoosung could tell he was trying desperately not to hit her.

The woman dropped the box she had been holding, pushing Saeran aside and running out of the store. Saeran’s laugh followed her.

“Coward!” he yelled. Other customers snickered at the fleeing woman, one even giving Saeran a thumbs up.

Yoosung ran to Saeran and hugged him fiercely, his tears falling again.

“Are you ok?” he asked, lifting Yoosung’s chin and grazing his lips softly.

Yoosung nodded.

“Don’t listen to that bitch. You’re perfect! And beautiful!” he smiled and kissed his wet lips, tasting the salt from his tears.

“What are you doing here?” Yoosung asked.

“Norman called me, told me what happened. He said you might need me, and I ran all the way here. I’ll always be there for you Yoosung. Why didn’t you call me?” Yoosung dropped his eyes.

“I was embarrassed. I just wanted the floor to swallow me whole.” Saeran’s chest rumbled with his laugh.

“I’m glad it didn’t. I’d miss you terribly.” He placed his hand on Yoosung’s belly. “And this little one too.” Saeran’s hand on his belly steadied him. His doubts vanished in an instant and his heart filled with love. This was all they needed. Their child would be loved unconditionally.

“Let’s just go out to eat. Ok? I’m starving!” Saeran said.

“My shoes are soaked, and smell of olives.” Yoosung wrinkled his nose, shifting his weight.

Saeran laughed, “How did you break that jar anyway?” he asked.

Yoosung lowered his head again, “I was trying to reach the pickles, and my belly knocked it off.” he whispered, embarrassed yet again.

Saeran embraced him, holding him close, ruffling his hair, trying not to laugh. “Oh, here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Yoosung’s hairclips. He brushed his bangs back and clipped them on. “There! Much better.” He said, lingering his gaze on Yoosung’s lavender eyes.

“Should we go?” he asked.

“Can you get my pickles first?” Yoosung asked, his eyes glittering with anticipation. This time Saeran did laugh. He put his arm around Yoosung and they went to the next aisle to grab the pickles.

#my posts #Yooran #Yoosung Kim #Saeran Choi #MPREG #pregnant Yoosung #angry Saeran #mysme #mystic messenger #This one's for you #@booyakasha516

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gumnut-logic · 5 years

Text

The Hero (Part Eight)

Title: The Hero

Sequel/companion piece to The Joker

Author: Gumnut

3 - 6 Dec 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Thunderbird Two, with Virgil and Gordon aboard, is hijacked and stolen. With Virgil injured, it is up to Gordon to save his brother and his ‘bird. Sequel/companion piece to ‘The Joker’. Gordon is far more than he seems.

Word count: 3298

Spoilers & warnings: Violence, WASP!Gordon, Military!Scott, whump, language.

Timeline: Sequel/companion piece to ‘The Joker’.

Author’s note: For @corbyinoz because she has written some magnificent Virgil and Gordon fics and is a great inspiration. Thank you for all your wonderful words.

It started with ‘The Joker’. I got interested in WASP!Gordon and decided to explore his side of the story. Then PLOT happened. Now I have no idea what is going on.

This one is full of plot necessities and was a pain to write. I hope to get back to the emotion and action in the next part. There may be one or two more chapters, depends on how it writes and as we have proven repeatedly that I have no control over anything. This is officially my second longest TAG fic so far :D

Unfortunately there will likely be a little delay before Chapter Nine as I have to write my TAG Secret Santa fic (which I finally have a plot for) as it has a deadline and I’m back at work in a couple of days. Thank you all so much for your patience and your wonderful support. You guys are just awesome ::hugs you all::

Many, many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for putting up with my crazy.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“Think with your head, not your heart.”

Virgil spun where he stood, narrowly avoiding the punch Kyrano launched at him. “I’m not having any trouble with my heart right now, Kyrano. More avoiding having my head handed to me.” Another spin and the world suddenly tipped sideways as the older man caught him and threw him to the ground. All the air in his body was expelled in a giant rush.

Kyrano stood over him as he gasped at the ceiling. “You have far too much heart.”

“I am what I am and I’m not ashamed of it.”

“What if you are the weakness?”

“I don’t see it as weakness.” He was finally able to draw breath again, his lungs fighting for it. “Everyone has their place in this world.” He threw himself to his feet, rolled his shoulders and set in form best he could.

Kyrano eyed him across the practise mat. “They do. Yet you have chosen to place yourself on the front line. You do not belong there.”

“This is not a war. We save people.”

“It is a war nonetheless and you are vulnerable.”

“Then teach me to defend myself.”

The Malay was quiet a moment, his eyes assessing. He moved into form.

“Then shield your heart.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon stared at the man who had hurt his family so much over so many years. A flick of his hand and he immobilised the hoverchair and stood up. “Bela Gaat.”

The Hood smiled at him. “Gordon Tracy, my little brother’s protege.” A snort. “Aren’t you supposed to avenge him and take me down?”

Calm. He could not afford anger here.

“Aww, I don’t know, boss. He is kinda cute.”

Gordon spun to find the second guard morphing into Havoc. Her smile was just as charming as every other smile in the room.

“He isn’t worth your time, m’dear. More guppy than shark apparently.” He turned to the prisoner. “Isn’t that right, Kyrano.”

His mentor had gone completely silent, his eyes lasering holes in the bald man from the other side of the glass.

“Time to go, dear brother.”

“No!” It was like the syllable had been dragged across knives.

“Excuse me?” Something flickered in the bastard’s eyes and Kyrano visibly flinched, his expression turning to steel. “You are my greatest weapon, dear brother. I am never, ever letting you go.

Gordon connected the dots in his head, a realisation that was both a relief and a terror. Decisions cascaded and within a split second he was in form and his fist was in the Hood’s face.

Perfect teeth disintegrated and scattered across the room. A knee came up and jammed the man’s intestines into his spine. A flip of a wrist, and despite his body screaming in protest, Gordon took the curse of a man down in one fell swoop.

Knee in the man’s back, he pulled his fist back for the killing blow.

“Kill me and he dies.” It was spat out with blood and another tooth.

It caused him to hesitate just that split second.

A grapple wrapped around his waist and yanked, digging a spike into his side. He yelled as Havoc wrestled him off the prone man, flinging him across the room to collide with the wall and crumple in a heap beneath it.

The world blurred a moment.

Kyrano was standing in his cell staring at him, green eyes completely lost.

There was an explosion and the ceiling fell in.

“Your duty as his daughter was to protect him.”

“Shut it, Kyrano, I don’t need your lame ass philosophy. Give me a hand and make yourself useful.”

“Some daughters are better than others, I guess.”

“I told you to shut it.”

“Fortunately, I do not take my orders from you.”

Gordon attempted to push himself up from the floor and almost whited out from the pain. A crash of something against the door shook the wall.

Kyrano stepped out of the haze of floating concrete dust, his eyes fogged by more than grief. “I’m sorry, Mister Gordon.” Agony flickered across his expression. “So sorry.” He drew back his arm as Gordon struggled to get out of reach.

The door burst open, Tracys and GDF piling through.

Relief flickered across that fatherly face before it was stolen by something else.

A grapple whipped out of the haze and caught the man, yanking him up through the ceiling to the hovering craft above.

Gordon stared as the ship spun and shot away.

It wasn’t until John reached him, yelling for medical assistance, that he realised he had forgotten to breathe.

-o-o-o-

Shock set in.

Virgil floundered with the rest of his family as the realisation of what Kyrano was suffering sunk in and, amongst injury and hurt, they struggled to get back on their feet.

They were able to track him.

Intermittently.

Eos followed that signature as it darted across the globe, the information sent to John until it disappeared somewhere in Malaysia, interference stealing it away.

That didn’t stop the argument from starting in Gordon’s hospital room.

“I’m going home.” His brother’s words were final.

“You are injured.”

“State the obvious, Virgil. I don’t see you volunteering to stay at the hospital.”

“My injuries are older.”

“By a matter of days and you’ve had surgery.”

“You have a busted cheekbone, broken ribs and a hole in your side. How the hell do you expect to take on Kyrano in that state?”

“I have to speak to him.”

“He is going to kill you. The Hood said something about a treatment. If he is controlling Kyrano with this thing in his head, the loopholes keeping us alive are likely going to be fixed. You are no match for him Gordon.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Gordon, please.” Virgil was their last ditch effort. Scott had been dragged yelling from his brother’s hospital room. Expelled for both his own health and that of the entire floor. Doctor Harris had been spitting chips. Virgil was pretty sure she was still ranting at him for endangering himself and his brothers.

Next stop was to save the eldest.

But first Gordon. He placed his hand on his brother’s arm. “We don’t even know if that is what he will do.”

“He’ll return as soon as possible. I can guarantee it. It is what I would do. Strike while we are down and the Island is vulnerable.”

“But Scott has contacted Brains and security is being upgraded. Kayo is already there.”

That had been rather spectacular in itself. Scott hadn’t even had a chance to yell at her, she had just disappeared. John traced her to a plane hire business and then to the Island.

Virgil had had to field Scott’s rant.

His eldest brother was beside himself. There was worry on all fronts, rogue operatives only one of them. He was on comms to Brains almost every five minutes, concerned about Brains himself and Grandma who was still on the Island. Scott agreed that it was likely there would be another strike. Evacuation was not an option any brother was willing to consider, so security and defence were the only remaining strategy.

Security against one of their own security officers who could literally waltz in at any time, undetected.

Aunt Val was another worry. Her concern involved troops and gunships, but none of the brothers had any faith left and certainly did not want unknowns on their island.

Hell, the GDF had a suspect in their care and yet again, he had escaped.

Scott pleaded no confidence and to her chagrin, Aunt Val had to bow to the accusation.

Virgil had no doubt that some heads were going to roll over this. Colonel Casey had given her word and her team had been unable to deliver...again. It was not a viable recipe for a successful command. Their aunt had her own fires to put out.

Of course, with Gordon demanding to go, there was no way Alan was leaving him to face this alone. Hell, Virgil wanted to go himself, not because he felt he would be much help in any actual fight, just that Kayo should not have to face this alone either.

She needed her family with her.

Kyrano was her father and the possibility existed that this may end badly for either side.

She needed their support.

John was still Earthside and the number of profane words in other languages he had muttered in the last day made his position clear. The communications specialist was already beefing up security via Eos. The AI was a random element they had up their sleeve and could be a game changer.

So there was no way John was hiding on the mainland.

And that was what it became, a cry that they shouldn’t hide. That Tracy Island was their home and regardless of their state of health, they needed to be there.

How could Virgil deny Gordon what felt so right?

“It will be okay.” Gordon’s voice was parched.

Even now, injured and facing the unknown, his brother was still attempting to protect him.

Virgil sighed. “I want you to be okay.”

“I’ll be okay once we have him home and safe.”

Virgil’s fingers spasmed around his brother’s arm. They didn’t know if that was even possible.

Gordon must have picked up on the thought because Virgil found himself pinned by those eyes so much like his own.

“We have to try.”

He held that gaze a moment before looking away. Quiet. “I know.”

So Alan took Two in hand and they went home.

Not knowing who might already be on that Island waiting for them.

Regardless, it felt good to see the familiar peaks and the caldera as Two banked to land on her runway.

Grandma greeted them, her hug clinging to him.

And he faced another futile argument. “Please, Grandma.”

As predicted, she shook her head. “I’m not leaving the Island, Virgil, so save your breath. This is a fight for our family.”

If he hugged her harder than usual, it was for his own reassurance.

“You be careful of those ribs, young man.”

A sigh. “Not my first set of broken ribs, Grandma. I know what I’m doing.”

She caught his eyes. “Not my first fight either, Virgil.”

She wasn’t wrong.

He kissed her hair.

And clung a moment longer.

-o-o-o-

Gordon followed Virgil up to his room. Both men were holding their sides, as if in parody of each other.

The aquanaut did not feel like laughing.

Kyrano had played them and taken them all down.

He grit his teeth.

So much anger. It roiled inside him. Anger at the Hood, at Havoc, but mostly at himself.

Why hadn’t he seen it? Kyrano was right. Of all the people on this planet, they were the ones he trusted, the people who knew him the most and Gordon, despite the Hood’s sneer, was his protege, his frickin’ padawan. He knew the philosophy Kyrano held dear, he knew how the man worked.

Kyrano had trusted him with his everything.

And he had failed to see. Failed to hear his cry for help.

He sighed and Virgil turned to look at him, worry in his gaze.

“I’m fine. Do you remember where you saw it last?”

Virgil didn’t answer. Instead he opened the door to his bedroom.

It all hit them in the face.

Books lay scattered all over the floor. The desk chair on its side.

A smear of blood on the window sill.

Gordon swallowed and straightened. Virgil’s eyes tracked across the room before he shuffled over to the bed and sat down. He closed his eyes and Gordon frowned.

“Virg?”

His brother raised a hand. “Give me a minute.”

The silence was deafening.

Virgil groaned as he levered himself off the bed and staggered around the foot, lowering himself to his knees. “Ow.” But he came up a moment later a tiny object between his fingers.

“Got it.”

-o-o-o-

The Thunderduck was still in the pool restricting One from being launched.

Alan used Two’s grabs to drag it out and secure it in the hangars.

Brains crawled all over it.

Virgil tried to do the same, but Grandma hauled him off it with a glare and Scott reinforced it with an order.

That order became an argument involving abdominal surgery, stitches and who the hell had medical command.

John slammed them both down and sent them to their rooms. Literally.

Grandma backed that one up wielding a wooden spoon.

It wasn’t International Rescue’s command team’s greatest moment.

But then nothing was going particularly well, in any case.

They beefed up security. They launched drones to patrol the Island. They even deployed the storm shutters, closing the massive metal shields designed to protect the villa from the force of a category five cyclone.

They were prepared.

But nothing happened.

The signature did not reappear on any scanner, no matter the sensitivity. It was just gone.

Had they lost the one advantage they had? Was Kyrano already here? His ability to foil their sensors had long bothered Brains. The engineer had spoken to Kyrano about it, but the security specialist had never been forthcoming. Even Scott had never received an answer, but it hadn’t been a worry, it had been to their advantage because Kyrano was on their side.

Or so they thought.

Now he was a massive hole in their security and a possible death threat.

Brains was not happy.

Kayo was livid.

Their sister was a silently screaming presence on the Island. She moved like she always did, a cat slinking from room to room, but she trailed pain.

Virgil attempted to corner her, but she shook him off.

He worried.

So he hounded her.

It wasn’t a technique he would usually employ, but she wouldn’t speak to him and he knew her too well.

She was hurting so much.

It came to a head three metres from the northwest sensor array on the other side of the island.

He had followed her. He wasn’t up to a great hike, but it was her fifth lap. She hadn’t eaten all day. She was pale and far too focussed.

And he was worried.

“What the hell do you want from me, Virgil?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just stood there, arm wrapped around his side, no doubt looking pathetic.

He straightened his shoulders anyway. “I want you to give yourself a break.”

Her lips thinned to invisibility and she spun, returning to her march to the array.

He followed, if a little slower.

She was running a diagnostic of the system when he caught up. She did not acknowledge him.

“It is not your fault.”

She ignored him, but the anger flickered across her expression anyway.

He ran through a list of platitudes and reassurance, but came up empty on what else to say. He couldn’t guarantee anything, he couldn’t say everything would be all right. He had nothing.

He could only be there.

Even if it required him to follow her around the entire Island. He shifted where he stood and flinched as his ribs reminded him exactly why that was such a stupid idea.

Her motions were efficient and sharp as usual. If he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he wouldn’t have seen it.

As it was, part of him hardly believed it.

The rest of him just broke into little pieces.

A single tear leaked out of her determined eyes and he was beside her before she could wipe it away, his arms wrapping around her before he could think.

She tensed a moment, and he thought she was going to push him off, but a small sound and she fell into his embrace, her head dropping to his chest.

She didn’t shake, didn’t hug him back, her fingers lying softly on his shirt, nails fine points pressing through his clothes into his skin.

He stroked her hair.

Little more than breath. “I’m sorry, Kay.”

She mumbled something he didn’t hear properly and her arms slid around him, her grip desperate and a little painful.

He didn’t flinch.

He just held her.

-o-o-o-

The days wore on and still nothing happened.

The tension on the Island increased, tempers frayed and the underlying anxiety eroded everyone. Sure the time gave them the space to heal and regroup, but the threat hung over them like a hammer about to pound them into the ground.

And International Rescue could not stay frozen forever.

Brains examined the ‘pill’ and, to their horror, discovered it to be almost exactly the same as the one removed from Virgil’s oesophagus. Gordon watched his brother as Brains ran through the details and saw him pale.

Gordon’s simmering anger burned hotter.

Because the pill bomb had yet to encounter the stomach acid that would erode it, Brains was able to use microtools to drain it of its fuel and examine the detail of its design.

Brains worked out how it was being cloaked.

The engineer gasped out loud. The science that followed bewildered Gordon, but Virgil’s eyes widened and there was a shared moment of admiration between the two engineers.

There was something about parrying signals rather than reflecting and a metaphor involving swords. Gordon just stared at the both of them. “Yes, but where does that get us?”

Scott, standing beside him, echoed the question.

“If we know how it works, we can work out a way defeat it.” Virgil’s voice held hope. “We could find Kyrano. This has to be why he left it here.”

For a moment, Gordon’s spirits lifted just a little. It was a step in the right direction.

But then Brains’ expression fell. “Oh no.”

“What?” The word fell from Gordon’s lips unconsidered.

“The c-cloak has the s-same signature that Kyrano was carrying ar-round in his h-head.”

Gordon stared at the engineer. A blink. “You think he has one of these in his skull?” Despite himself, Gordon’s voice rose at the end of the question. Virgil’s hand landed on his arm.

This time he shook it off.

Brains straightened and turned to face Gordon head on. “I-I c-can only say that the s-signature is the s-same. A-anything else is p-pure sp-peculation.”

Gordon straightened his spine. “But it is a possibility.”

The brown eyes of their resident genius were apologetic. “A-anything is p-possible.”

Kill me and he dies.

Gordon looked away a moment. Scott shifted where he stood.

“He wanted to end this.” Virgil’s parched voice broke the sudden silence. “He tried to shove that down my throat so he could end it. He wanted to blow himself up as much as he was being driven to do the same to us. If he had a bomb in his head, don’t you think he would have found a way to set that off rather than kill all of us?”

Silence ate the question.

“The Hood said ‘Kill me and he dies’. What if it requires a trigger?”

The silence crept in again.

“This is all speculation.” Scott’s voice cut in and ended the discussion. “Brains, I want John and Eos in on this. We need to find a way to locate that signature again. We can’t sit here waiting for an attack forever. We need to find him.” A pause as his brother swallowed. “We need to save him.”

Save him.

Brains nodded and went back to his equipment.

Scott rounded on his two brothers. “We will save him.”

Virgil looked up, but his expression was neutral.

Gordon straightened. “Yes, we will.”

How was the only remaining question.

Until two days later when that signature reappeared on their sensors.

-o-o-o-

End Part Eight.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #virgil tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #kayo kyrano #gordon tracy #the joker and the hero

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facepalming-since-chernobyl · 5 years

Text

Oh, so Jolly

For @chrisifornia for the Karamel Christmas fic challenge. Big thanks for meine liebe @zrnas who beta-ed it.

Merry/happy Chrismtas/holidays, assholes! <3

(You can also find it on AO3 -> xxx)

Kara Danvers Sometimes Zor-El was a simple girl with simple needs, which is why she was going to kiss (and maybe, probably, most definitely do much more to) that jackass Daxamite at the Christmas party, even if it meant traumatizing all the guests for the rest of their lives.

Kara Danvers Sometimes Zor-El neatened her super sexy, clinging to her like a second skin, red dress, while standing in front of the door to her loft.

She took a glance at the big-ass mistletoe hanging just above her and nodded, satisfied.

It was impossible to enter her loft and miss it. If someone walked under it, he - yes, he, because she had a specific guy in mind while hanging the mistletoe - had to kiss the person who opened the door. And that person was going to be Kara.

And the “he” was a piece of a well-shaped Daxamite ass that came back from the future two weeks ago, with Winn on his heels.

Yes, two whole, long frustrating weeks passed and he didn’t do a thing. He just informed them Brainiac was defeated, kicked Brainy back to the future to “talk to his fucking race and fix their problems, because no one else has enough patience to do it” and happily said that he was no longer a married guy.

He got his bartender job back, started to help DEO and Supergirl as Valor, and everything was just like it was before.

Well, not everything.

As much as Kara was thrilled to see him happy, beardless, handsome and friendly, it was not enough for her.

Why? Because it was years, rao-damned YEARS, since she last had sex or any intimate activity with something other than her fingers or her vivid fantasies, and she was missing intimacy with a real lover as crazy.

The worst thing was, her sexual frustration was visible and known to all, because even Brainiac noticed and asked if he should have made her an nth metal vibrator or some sex robot, to “improve her mental state and increase her general hero effectiveness that had dropped for 9,45345% since her celibacy started”.

He said this in the middle of DEO, in front of 10 agents, Alex and J’onn. Yep, Alex was not going to forget that and will probably mention it at every family/friends gathering for the next 60 years.

But yes, Kara the prudish American slash Kryptonian girl liked sex and enjoyed it greatly.

And we all knew who was responsible for awakening her sex-loving side.

Too bad she sent his ass to the future. And then he came back. With a wife. And then left again. With his beautiful, nice, kind, amazing wife.

But hey! Her prayers were heard for once, and the only one who could make her satisfied returned (without a wife) and… acted like a friend.

A friend.

Maybe he thought she needed time? If that was the reason, he was an idiot because she has had enough time. A few fucking years… wait, there was no “fucking” there, ha, ha, ha…

Ugh.

Maybe he was the one who needed time? Possibly, but two weeks should have been enough for a Daxamite, right?

So, Kara created a deliciously simple plan to lure him into her lair by asking for help with preparing her Christmas party and cooking some food.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 0:1

She was going to suggest the hot stuff in a super civilized way, perfect for politepeople like her, by simply grabbing his shirt, throwing him at the door and kissing him senselessly. And then throwing him at her bed and having some fun before the whole (non-important) party.

Kara checked her watch (her dress made a cracking noise, like it was ready to tear in some strategic places) and frowned a little. He was 7 minutes and 45 seconds late.

Suddenly, her balcony window was opened with a bang.

“Sorry for being late but Winn had called just before I left and asked me to bring his board for the charades.”

Kara slowly turned and looked with wide eyes at the Daxamite who was putting the incredibly big board down. He had also a backpack and three bags full of food, ruffled hair, a one day shade, and was wearing a leather jacket.

Basically, he looked like a snack.

A snack that was not going to be consumed by her, because her freaking nerdy, so called best, friend hijacked her masterfully laid plan.

She was going to murder Winn Schott.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 1:1

“Something wrong?” Mon-El asked with raised brows, taking the ingredients from the bags and putting them on her kitchen table.

“No.” She cursed in her head when he took a glance at the traitorous place between her brows, but thankfully it was covered by her bangs. “I’m just happy you are finally here.” Kara smiled genuinely.

Mon-El smiled back and, yes!, he finally really looked at her. Screw the mistletoe, there were other ways to make the guy lose his mind and kiss the girl!

“You like it?” she twirled, showing of her dress, that as you already know, clung to her like a second skin, showing off her goddess-like Kryptonian body.

“This dress is a killer,” he admitted without a second of hesitation and Kara started to smile wider.

Ha! No way he was going to resist her now! No way-

“But are you sure it’s a good idea to wear it while cooking?” he asked and her smile, that supposed to be sultry, froze. “You may get dirty,” he said matter-of-factly and checked something on his phone.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 2:1.

Damn. He had a point. Knowing her cooking antitalent (but hey, did he just suggest she was a klutz...?) and the fact her squeezed breasts were going to escape her dress if she bent (hmm, maybe it was not a bad idea to bend in front of him...?), she should have changed it.

On the other hand, no Daxamite, no matter how handsome and lovely, was going to tell her what to do.

“I think I’ll manage.” She smiled and threw him an apron.

Five minutes later, somehow, just before Kara bent in front of him, she’d managed to shower herself with a pound of flour.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 3:1.

She had a super quick shower and exchanged her sexy dress for a little less sexy dress that was not so tight.

Kara, trying to do something with her wet hair to not look like a drowned rat, and washing away her ruined make-up, told herself that now everything was going to be fine.

It was not.

Unfortunately, Mon-El looked like her Mon-El again (not like that bearded version that was very hot but, well, belonged to, ughhhhh, Imra) and behaved like her Mon-El.

That meant that he focused on cooking like it was the most important thing in the entire universe. And even a Kryptonian almost clinging to his back, breathing sensually down his neck and hovering over his shoulder didn’t change that.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 4:1

“Can you get me some cinnamon, please?” he asked while peeling some apples.

“Sure,” Kara sighed and opened a cupboard, when another plan appeared in her brain.

“Oh, no! I totally forgot I ran out of it,” she shut the door to the cupboard where an unopened package of cinnamon was innocently lying. “Can you fly to the shop and buy it? I’ll finish peeling the apples.” She smiled sweetly, and when she smiled like that, he just had to do what she asked.

When he flew away, she superspeeded peeling the apples, not caring that she peeled more flesh than skin, and rehung the mistletoe near her balcony doors.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 4:2

And then waited.

And waited.

15 minutes later she was sighing angrily and cursing the Christmas queues in the shops.

30 minutes later she started to create unpleasant theories in her reporter head.

Like, he was checking his phone a lot and writing messages. And… right after their heroing jobs he would quickly return home. She was getting a nasty feeling that maybe… he had someone? And flew to check on that person?

Naaaah, it was impossible to find someone in two weeks, right?

Even when he was dashing, sweet, cheerful, charming and had an amazing ass.

Right...?

42 minutes later she was sure he had someone and just didn’t tell her to avoid hurting her feelings, and that was why he was avoiding her and-

The front door opened and Mon-El entered her loft again.

“Sorry, I met your neighbour, old Miss Kowalski in the shop, and helped her carry 5 bags full of cat food. Five bags, can you imagine? And we had a talk about cats and... ” he finally stopped babbling and looked at Kara who was still standing near the balcony door with an… unusual but very interesting look on her face he could not really read.

“Uhm, is something wrong?” Mon-El asked slowly.

Kara, who was in the middle of internal existential crisis and on the verge of bursting into a hysterical laugh, made a face.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 5:2.

“No, just you know… cats,” she said flatly.

She was going to make hot dogs from the damned mouse eaters.

Mon-El who was currently frowning at the massacred apples and was ready to put cinnamon into them froze hearing her tone.

“You don’t like cats?” he asked slowly and took a glance at her. And then blinked, because wasn’t the mistletoe hanging in a different place before...?

“I absolutely adore them,” Kara smiled like a predator. “What’s next on the cooking list? Pudding? Awe and some.”

Humming, she approached the kitchen table and started preparing ingredients, totally missing the weird glances Mon-El was giving her.

Together, while preparing food, they managed to fall into an easy conversation about their friends, their jobs, heroing, Gameof Thrones and other not important things, they talked about everything but them. And it was okay for Kara, because thanks to that she managed to stay clean and didn’t cause any cooking disasters.

While pre paring the last snack, walnut macarons with salted caramel, they worked hand to hand, brushing their shoulders from time to time, smiling, feeling easy and incredibly happy, like during the old times when they started their relationship and everything was super easy.

And then she tasted the caramel cream, and of course she smeared some of it on her cheek.

Like it was the most natural thing to do, he simply brushed it and licked it off from his thumb.

Just like that her heart almost jumped out of her chest.

Finally!

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 5:3!

She bit her lip, closed her eyes and leaned into him…

But he didn’t notice.

His phone had vibrated a second before. He turned around and immediately checked the message.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 6:3.

Kara kissed the place between his shoulder blades.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 7:3.

“Oops, sorry, I lost my balance,” she giggled nervously.

“It’s ok,” he murmured absently, focused on his phone.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 8:3.

And then, because he decided she needed to finally learn when to take out the cookies from the oven, he ordered her to guard the macarons.

Kara didn’t complain, because they were both crouching in front of the oven, their limbs touching again and he was describing in his amazing, deep, warm, smooth baritone how the perfectly baked macarons, that could make anyone’s mouth water, looked like.

She was just glancing at his profile and fantasizing that it was her, not the damned, stupid cookies, could make his mouth water.

“Uhm, Kara? Were you listening? Now you can take them out, exactly 7 minutes have passed.”

She was harshly brought back from a Daxamite La La Land by his voice.

“Hm? Oh, sorry, I was just-” fantasizing about us “-thinking about how easy it is to miss the perfect moment.” She took the batch out and holy crap, as much as she hated them for making Mon-El ignore her, they smelled deliciously.

“Don’t worry, you can practise on the three last batches,” he smiled, put the second one into the oven... and just in case set an alarm.

And that was how she ended up guarding the cookies while he was opening the door for her guests.

He’s been opening the door.

While the goddamned mistletoe was hanging near the balcony.

Kara watched him like a hawk, another master plan forming in her head. All she needed was a chance.

She was so focused on him that she over baked the second batch a little. Somehow, she didn't notice the alarm was ringing. Mon-El was not amused.

But screw the macarons, so far he opened the door for Alex and Kelly, her moms, Nia, James and J’onn.

Kara screamed inside of her head, because that meant only Winn was left - her last and final chance.

(Yes, only Winn. That Luthor bitch that was probably crying her crocodile tears in her mansion and drowning her Luthor’s pain in whiskey, was not invited.)

But finally, the universe, God, Rao or Santa Claus had some mercy on her and Mon-El went to the bathroom.

Kara, totally ignoring the smug faces of her friends and family, hastily re-hang the mistletoe and came back to guard the cookies, just before Mon-El left the bathroom.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 9:4

Thankfully, he didn’t notice the smug faces and conspiratorial whispers, because once again he was focused on his phone.

And then, finally someone knocked on the door and Mon-El approached it.

Time slowed down. The tension filled the room when everyone stopped talking and looked at his back. Kara slowly raised herself, ready to casually approach the door too and traumatise Winn and her whole family for the rest of their lives.

Unfortunately, it was really not her day.

Just before Mon-El had opened the door, the alarm rang.

“Kara the cookies!” he yelled and opened the door. “Hey, Winn,” he greeted his friend.

Meanwhile, Kara was taking out the goddamned macarons using her superspeed, so some of them fell on the floor. When she turned around she saw something she would much rather not.

Mon-El was looking confusedly at the mistletoe above his and Winn’s heads.

“I swear it wasn’t hanging here...” he said with furrowed brows.

“Aww, you could’ve just said you wanted to kiss me, pal,” Winn laughed and patted Mon-El’s shoulder.

“Oh well, we better not piss off the Christmas god, huh?” the Daxamite said and kissed Winn.

On the lips.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: 10 to -100.

Kara dropped the batch to the floor, the cookies spread all over the floor.

Mon-El unglued, UNGLUED!, from Winn (who didn’t look slightly ashamed).

“Noo! Our cookies!”

Kara almost heard the facepalms that all of her guests were giving themselves inside of their heads.

But she didn’t really care because Mon-El. Kissed. Winn. Not. Her.

While the Daxamite was dusting off the cookies and apologizing to them for Kara’s horrible behavior, she approached her so called best friend, whose days were numbered - to one.

When the nerd saw her face he gulped loudly, because he knew his death was going to be painful.

Kara vs Winn: Game fucking over

Kara sighed and put the last batch into the oven. This time she hoped she was going to take them out in a perfect moment, because everything else on that evening was a freaking disaster.

If she had only known...

“Uhm, Kara?”

“Yeah?” she poured herself a glass of punch and looked at him.

Mon-El was biting his lip, looking nervous. And a little frustrated.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Not sure how to ask, it’s sudden and you probably won't like it-” his voice faded into such a quiet whisper that even with her superhearing, she couldn’t hear anything.

“Hey just say it,” she smiled encouragingly. “It can’t be that bad as long as it’s not baking another batch.”

“Can I bring someone to the party?”

Kara choked on her punch and spit some of it on her dress.

“What?” she managed to squeak, between coughs.

“Grife, are you ok?” Mon-El grabbed paper towels and handled them to her.

“Perfectly fine, I just choked on an orange,” she lied, blessing her bangs again. ”So, you want to bring someone?”

“Uhm, I’m sorry, I know it’s a friends and family party but I really don’t like her staying alone at home for so long and-”

Kara stopped listening. And maybe her heart stopped beating too.

I don’t like her staying alone at home.

Mon-El (unknowingly) vs Kara: GAME OVER

“Yeah, sure,” she interrupted his blabbering, because she really didn't want to listen to it. “Bring whoever you want, if... that makes you happy.” She said with furrowed brows, pretending to clean the stains from her dress.

Mon-El’s eyes lit up and he kissed her cheek.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he said happily and flew away.

Kara focused on her dress, straightening out the creases, fighting the tears back.

“Oh, honey,” her mothers sighed at the same time.

“I’ll just-” she left them, grabbed the first clean dress from her closet and locked herself in the bathroom.

She changed the dress, cleaned her face, fixed her hair and didn’t think.

When she came back, she didn’t give a shit they were all throwing her sad glances. She just crouched in front of the oven and waited.

And she still didn’t allow herself to think about… stuff. She was so focused on it that she missed the perfect time. She didn’t hear the alarm. She just woke up from her state, when J’onn approached her and took out the cookies.

They were burnt.

Kara wanted to cry.

But then she heard a knock on the door, so she swallowed her tears and put a mask on her face - something she was so good at it.

Bracing herself, she opened the door that revealed -

A smiling Mon-El of Daxam who was holding a pussy.

Kara blinked.

Mon-El blinked.

The pussy didn’t blink.

“Are you crying?” The smile faded from his face in a second when he noticed her slightly red eyes.

“That’s a pussy,” Kara said and blinked again.

“What?!” she heard all of her guests gasping loudly (minus J’onn’ who was sighing tiredly). They all hastily approached the door and looked over her shoulders.

“I’m pretty sure it’s called a cat,” Mon-El said slowly, looking confusedly at the crowd of people that were looking at the creature in his arms with their mouths wide open.

The cat was incredibly ugly.

She was a big tabby, with long, ruffled fur, jaggy ears, a tail thick like a bottlebrush, some broken whiskers, scars on her nose, a bandaged paw and a missing eye. She looked like a barbarian cat fighter who could eat a German shepherd for dinner.

“Sorry it took me so long, she hates flying so I needed to walk,” Mon-El looked at the cat lovingly and scratched its ear.

And Kara started laughing. A little hysterically.

But when she looked at Mon-El and the cat who were watching her like she was a little crazy, she coughed awkwardly and invited them in.

A cat. A freaking cat. She was jealous of the ugliest cat in the world. Dear Rao!

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t like cats,” Mon-El entered the room, took a glimpse at the mistletoe, pecked Kara on the lips and continued talking. “But she hates staying alone and my landlady who was taking care of her was leaving for her own Christmas party and… Are you ok?”

Because Kara was standing, frozen in her tracks, red faced, absolutely speechless, with her jaw hanging, looking like a fish.

“What? Was I not supposed to kiss you? Did I confuse the customs again or-”

“No, no, it’s ok,” Winn clapped his shoulder and saved Kara from embarrassing herself more. ”She’s just jealous our kiss was better and she is going to lose in the Christmas kissing competition.”

“There is a competition?” Mon-El sat on the couch and started stroking the cat, who was staring at Kara with one big and very judging yellow eye.

“No!” Kara finally got her voice back.

“There totally is,” Alex dragged Kelly under the mistletoe and kissed her hard.

“And the winners get laid,” Nia giggled and pushed Winn to the kissing spot.

“Oh, and you can repeat the kiss,” Eliza said loudly, winked at her daughter and high fived Alura.

“What?! No!”

Nia and Winn were still kissing.

“Winn? Maybe we should kiss again,” Mon-El asked seriously, but there was mirth dancing in his eyes. “This time with some tongue action.”

OVER HER DEAD BODY!

“Dude, you are so right,” said Winn, who finally stopped kissing Nia, but was standing suspiciously close to her, and burst out laughing when he saw Kara’s face.

Two seconds later his and the Daxamite faces were hit by flying pillows.

That was the moment when Mon-El’s ugly cat decided to not like Kara.

She totally ignored the Kryptonian while Mon-El told how he found her one day in his apartment, casually sleeping on his bed, like it belonged to her. How she started to visit him every night, sometimes bringing dead rats (he read some article that it meant she thought he was her baby that could not take care of himself). Which basically meant she adopted him.

One day she didn’t come, so he started to look for her and found her in an alley not far from his apartment with a wounded paw. He took her to the vet but she couldn’t walk for a few days and she absolutely hated staying alone in the apartment. So he tried to come back home early and asked his landlady to visit his pet and keep him informed by sending him messages.

When Kara tried to pat her, the cat hissed. The animal kept sitting with her back turned to the Kryptonian every time Kara was sitting near Mon-El. She didn’t take any snacks from Kara, while she ate some treats from Alura and Eliza. She even allowed J’onn to take her on his lap and sat there for awhile. But the only person who made her purr like a little tractor was Mon-El.

Kara felt jealous.

The Kryptonian felt that Mon-El’s adopted mother disapproved of her. As much as it was ridiculous, it stung a little.

But the cat finally fell asleep on the couch and the party got jolly, with a tipsy Alex singing Christmas carols and making Kelly die from laughter, Winn and Nia winning the Christmas kissing competition and the whole group having lots of fun playing charades.

When Mon-El ate the burnt macarons saying she made them and they tasted exceptional, Kara felt the day was not that bad.

And then, suspiciously smoothly, her guests left the party (Winn and Nia together) and she was left alone with Mon-El.

“Thank you for inviting us,” he said while tucking the cat in his jacket and heading to the door. “I really missed it.”

“Me too,” she said sincerely, knowing exactly what he meant and suddenly feeling very shy.

She nervously tugged at the material of her dress.

“I really like this dress, it brings back some good memories,” he said quietly.

“Oh?” she looked at what she was wearing and gasped.

It was the flowery dress she was wearing on their first and only Thanksgiving.

If that was not a sign from Rao to put her crap together, then she was not Supergirl.

“You didn’t respond to my flirting,” she blurted out and Mon-El blinked.

“You were… flirting?” he asked slowly, his last two active brain cells were trying hard to process the information. “When?”

“My killer dress? Me breathing suggestively down your neck? Me kissing your… ugh, back?”

Mon-El blinked. “Oh. OH. I didn’t notice,” he said sincerely and then sweated a little because Kara made a face. “That doesn’t mean you suck at flirting.”

“Suck, you say,” she said slowly.

“Maybe I should just shut up,” Mon-El laughed nervously.

“Well, we have never really flirted, things just... happened,” Kara rolled her eyes and noticed the goddamned mistletoe was still hanging just above them.

Maybe… they could… make things happen again?

“So…” Kara made a little cough. “You came back, for good?”

“For good,” he said quietly, looking at her with longing.

“You are not married anymore,” she looked into his eyes.

“No.”

“And nothing is stopping us.”

He smiled, remembering. “Nope. Nothing is stopping us.”

They stared into each others eyes, so intensely, like they were the only people in the entire universe. And then in a blink of an eye they leant to kiss…

And well, maybe nothing was stopping them, but the cat was not nothing.

“MEOW!”

The animal made an angry hiss when they almost crashed her between them.

“Oops, sorry.” Mon-El gently put her on the floor. “Where were w-”

He didn’t manage to finish when Kara grabbed his shirt and unceremoniously threw him at the door.

But he didn’t complain, because his lips were occupied by hers, while she was kissing him senseless.

And then, like years ago, they moved and landed on the couch, only with Mon-El on the bottom this time.

“MEOW!”

They stopped kissing and slowly turned their heads.

The cat was standing near the couch, swinging her tail and watching them angrily.

“Erm, why is she pissed off?” Kara murmured.

“Why should I know?” Mon-El whispered back.

“It’s your cat!”

“Only for like 10 days! I don’t-”

He was interrupted by the sound of a flushing water and J’onn J’onzz leaving the toilet.

Kara and Mon-El froze.

Kara with one of her hands in his pants.

Mon-El with his left hand on her ass.

And his right hand under her shirt on her breast.

“She is angry because she thinks the couch belongs to her now and you occupied it,” Space Dad said matter-of-factly and put his hat on his head. “Have fun kids,” he said and left the loft.

Kara and Mon-El looked at each other.

“That was awkward,” he said slowly.

“Super awkward,” she agreed.

“A real mood killer.”

“Yep.”

They kept staring at each other. Kara bit the inside of her cheek. Mon-El coughed a little.

“On the other hand, it can’t get more awkward, right? So maybe, we should just continue?” He said hopefully.

“Absolutely,” Kara agreed without a second of hesitation and leant to kiss his neck but:

“MEOW!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Kara banged her forehead on his chest.

“Cat? Really?” Mon-El sighed heavily.

Kara raised her head and looked at him with squeezed, judging eyes.

“You call your cat a cat?”

“Yes? She’s a cat.”

“And her name is?”

“Uhm… Cat,” he said sheepishly.

“You named your cat Cat? That’s so wrong on so many levels, Mon.”

“Do we really need to have this conversation right now? While you still have your hand in my pants?” he asked a little annoyed.

“Well,” she moved that hand a little and smiled like a cheshire cat when he whimpered. “It seems you are still in the mood.”

Mon-El rolled his eyes. “Yes, so can we please move to the bedroo- EEK!”

He shrieked when she grabbed his shirt (yes, with the other hand still in his pants) and flew them to her bedroom.

Mon-El vs Kara: END GAME

The cat whose name was Cat rolled her one eye and jumped to the couch.

She was cleaning her fur for a long time, while ignoring very weird noises that were coming from the other room. And then fell asleep on her couch.

But in the middle of the night, she woke up and decided to change the location and find her dumb baby humanoid she was taking care of.

She entered the bedroom and hopped onto the bed, wanting to curl herself on her humanoid’s chest, but the chest was occupied.

The weird female, who had smelled like she wanted to eat Cat’s humanoid earlier in the day, was lying flat on his chest. She was naked, drooling on his shoulder, smiling dumbly and looking very ugly by Cat’s standards.

Cat didn’t judge, her male humanoid was not a beauty either, like every other furless creature. But dear Bastet, their offsprings were going to be extremely ugly.

Oh well, she was going to bring them rats anyway.

Cat looked at the female and swung her tail gently.

She didn’t like that Kara female in the beginning, but well, she had a nice couch and her humanoid mated with her. Also, did she just purr in her sleep like a cat?

It seemed she needed to adopt another humanoid.

The animal gently climbed Kara’s naked back and curled into a ball on her waist. Then yawned and fell asleep, lulled by Kara’s purring.

#karamel #fics #my shit #KaramelSecretSanta2019

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sabine-leo · 5 years

Text

A smile to remember-Chapter38

Author: @sabine-leo

Chapter: 38 /?

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Romance, mentioning of Smut, Angst, Comfort

Note: I am so happy to read your comments under this fic ( and every other one i post ;) ) THANK YOU for making my day!

There was not much time to mope about his departure. The day he had left you went inside your bedroom and found a shirt with a note on it on top of your pillow.

My Darling,

Since you are stealing…oh sorry, BORROWING my shirts all the time I thought it would be a nice change if I just leave you one behind. Went a bit wild with the aftershave on it as you probably can tell / smell. Oh…and Darling… Don´t search for your favourite (your fav. Colour) shirt. It might have taken it with me!

I will miss you tremendously

YOURS always

Tom

Smiling you shook your head and chuckled softly as you cuddled up in bed with his shirt besides your pillow. It didn´t take long and you were fast asleep. Given that you had not had any sleep last night it was not surprising. Tom too fell asleep right after boarding the plane. Ben chuckled and snapped a picture of him hanging in his seat, open mouthed and dead to the world. He sent it to you. Capturing it with: What did you do to my friend?

Awaking in the early afternoon you laughed as you saw the picture and shot a quick text back. Writing Tom too afterwards, but a little less snarky. Tom facetimed later that day as he had settled into the hotelroom he shared with Ben for the first 2 nights.

“At least we have two separate beds…” He grinned into the camera. You chuckled as Bens face showed up behind Tom. “Yes, otherwise your boyfriend might have cuddled up to me in the middle of the night!” Laughing you shot back. “Your loss, he is a great cuddler!” Tom grinned. He was so happy you got along well with Ben and Sophie. They were two of his close friends and the four of you had been on some dinner dates together since Sophie and you had befriended each other. Ben gave you a little privacy and went to take a shower while Tom and you talked a bit more before saying your goodbyes as their ordered dinner arrived.

The next 2 weeks you went back and forth between work, your flat and the house. The workers had already done the breakdown of the walls that needed to go and remodelled the staircase. It seemed like the architect- Mr Williams -was hell bend on getting everything done before Tom came back.

You and Tom had not talked on the phone for nearly 5 days now. The different time zones and his and your schedule messed everything up so that all you could work out were texts and voice messages.

Week 3 was particularly overloaded with work for you. You had put your apartment up for sale and started to pack up bit by bit. In the house you had some minor mishaps that needed your attention but after one meeting with Mr. Williams it was all back on track. Nonetheless had it eaten up almost 4 hours of your time that day. Sarah had seen your exhausted face as she picked up Dylan the next day and messaged her mother.

In the early afternoon on your day off, a knock sounded on your door. You opened up and a laugh escaped you. Dylan stood before you, his arms and belly totally wrapped up in bubble wrap with a big smile on his face. Behind him were Sarah and Diana. Sarah held some folded boxes and Diana a basket full of fresh things from the market. “Thought you might need some help!” Sarah said and Diana added. “And some home-made food. You look like you haven´t eaten properly in a while!” Dylan interrupted your upcoming answer with a giggle “Wanna do something funny?” he asked. You went down in front of him and nodded. “hug me reeeaaaally tight!” He stage-whispered. Already knowing what would happen you laughed inwardly and went in for the hug. The bubble wrap popped and Dylan started to giggle so infectious that you laughed out loud and kissed his cheek.

The three came in and went to work with you. After a while Diana went into the kitchen in favour of prepping dinner. Dylan had fun tossing the wrap paper around or wrap up some stuff that would not break easily. After a while he took to painting on the boxes where they had to go in the house. He could not write but he just begun to draw on them what he thought would look like a bathroom, the bedroom and so on. As he got tired of that he sneaked of into the bedroom with a puzzle he had found in your stuff. On the table your tablet started to light up. It was Tom. Smiling you took it into your hands and pressed the video button.

“Oh god Darling, it is so good to see you again after what…7 days?” he started and smiled a bright but very tired looking smile. “Hey…” you said full of love. Sarah popped up behind you and said. “No dirty talk, brother. There are children and family present!” You snorted and Tom burst out laughing. “Hello dear sister!” Out of the kitchen came Diana’s voice. “Hello Son!” Tom looked stunned. “What, mother too?” You nodded and turned the tablet to the kitchen so that he was able to see his mother.

“They came to help me. I am sorry Thomas. I am hijacking your family!” Tom laughed softly and said. “Darling, they are your family too! Sadly, not officially for now but if my mother has stolen your kitchen you are family.” Dylan came running out of the bedroom. Seemingly he had done more than just the puzzle. He had wrapped his butt in bubble wrap and giggled. “Ooohhh Uncle Toom!” he yelled. “Look!” he went in front of the tablet and jumped up. As he landed on his butt the bubble wrap burst and gave loud plop sounds. He stood up giggling and did it another time. “Sounds like farts!” he snorted and fell over laughing, popping some more bubbles in the process. You nor Tom, Sarah or Diana could hold their laughter at that sight. “Seems like I am missing out on a lot of fun!” Tom said and smiled as Dylan said. “No worries Uncle Tom. I will hide some bubble wrap for you! Pinkie Promise!” Tom thanked Dylan and looked at you again through the screen. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour. Dylan, help me set up the table!” Diana said and winked at you. “Don´t you have to pack up some things in the bedroom…” Sarah added and you laughed but took the hint and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“You ok love?” Tom asked and touched the screen with a finger as if he wanted to reach through it. “I am doing ok Tom. Missing you though…” Tom smiled with a sigh. “Yes, I miss you too, very much so!”

You sat on the bed and took your fill looking at him. Even though you had a hell of a lot to do, 3 weeks were long and the nights were particularly lonely. Tom got comfortable on his bed too while you talked for a while but mostly looked at each other. You could see how tired he was. “How late is it were you are?” you softly asked as he snuggled up to his pillow. “1 in the morning…I need to be up by 5 to get to a morning show.” Oh god, this really was taking a toll on him. “Go to sleep Thomas…” you said lovingly. “…have not seen you for so long…” he yawned but closed his eyes.

“You need to sleep for a while…otherwise Ben will send me messages again. How will it look when you fall asleep on the sofa on Live TV?” Tom chuckled and opened up his weary eyes a second.

“Stay until I´m asleep?” He asked and closed his eyes again after he dimmed the light. “As long as possible…” You whispered and smiled as you saw him drift of into sleep in under 3 minutes. A soft knock on the door sounded about 2 minutes later. Sarah’s head lurked in. “Dinner is ready” she whispered as she saw you holding up your finger to your lips. You nodded and looked at Tom for another time. He looked so peaceful in his sleep. Signing of with a sigh you went into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Diana looked at you. “How is my son?” She asked with a smile. “Very tired…” you answered honestly as she took your hand. “All the more need for you to keep your strength for the next weeks. You don´t have to do everything alone you know.” She smiled. “My son was right; you already are family!” Your gaze got soft and your eyes started to water. Diana gave you a soft hug. “Now, let’s eat and then pack up some more!”

“Yes Ma´am!”

By the end of week 4 the heavy work in the house was done. The floors were laid, the bathrooms finished and the interior design work started. The bookshelves from floor to ceiling were beautiful. The whole new, bigger livingroom came to live with a fireplace that was uncovered as a special addition you did not know before. You started moving things into the finished rooms in week 5- of Toms time away- with the help of his family as well as Clara and Bens wife Sophie. You were grateful for all their help and especially as Diana helped you set up Toms study just how he would like it. It were long days and even longer nights being at work and unpacking in the house but you wanted it ready for when Tom came home. He and you managed to talk once a week and he was very curious how the house was getting along. You did send him pictures but left out some details in order for him to be surprised when he saw them for real. In the last week before his return it was clear that you would be able to spent the first night in the house when he got back. Mr. Williams had hired a cleaning crew as the last things had been moved over and everything was done. Diana had taken over in the garden for the last 2 weeks and it looked stunning. As Mr. Williams handed you the new keys to the door one day before Tom would come back, you stood there and gulped.

“Somebody has to pinch me!” You said breathless and Diana just hooked her arm to yours and smiled. “I will do nothing as such. You have worked to hard to get everything done and unpacked in time for me to pinch you know. You should be feeling your sore muscles to give you a hint that it really is not a dream. Are you sure you don´t want to spent the first night in the house today?” You shook your head. “No, I want to experience this with Tom.” Diana smiled and nudged you. “Then come and stay with me tonight. I will cook something for us and you can have a good night’s sleep before you pick up my son tomorrow!”

“Have I told you that I love you?!” You hugged Diana. Diana chuckled and hugged you back. “Love you too dear. Now come on before I change my mind and want to sleep in that dream house of yours myself!” Laughing and arm in arm you and Toms mum walked to the car. You could not wait to pick up Tom tomorrow.

Tags: @theoneanna @shegatsby @wabisabigrl @everything-is-awesomesauce @lokislilslut@drakesfiance @spoopyfoxxtropical @yokaimoon @kjjazzy23 @confessionsofastrugglingteen @shinebrightlikeafanbase @adefectivedetective @coniumalces @lisastandford95@imjustlonelyanddepressed @anchored-in-high-tide @clarakainda @karnita-mexicana @nonsensicalobsessions @raining-litter @archy3001 @itscalledfandomsweetielookitup @faeriedelalune-blog @amazinggraces-world @tanishahka @emomemelordess @devilbat @usedtobegoodfriend96 @inlovewithfreyamikaelson @heart-shaped-hell @marikochi @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @awkwardfangirl2014 @rainbowsinthestorm

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writingthingsisdifficult · 7 years

Text

Shifting perspective

(Horrible title, I know. I suck at naming stuff.) I don’t know what this is. It came to be from my strong wish to have Norwegian swearing in one of my fics (don’t know why. Don’t ask.) Anyway, this is what grew; one OFC called Oline (nicknamed Oli), one pining Sam, and a bunch of asshole shapeshifters. Enjoy.

The translations are in brackets right after the Norwegian, so you don’t have to scroll so much, but most of the translations aren’t literal, partly because of my limited knowledge of the English language, and partly because I tried to make it flow.

For example: Faen is used a lot. It’s a common Norwegian curse word, and it’s quite versatile, kinda like fuck, but the meaning is of religious origin, not sexual. Faen is a shortened version of Fanden, which is another (old) name for the devil (or a demon, depending on where you’re from).

Please let me know what you think, but also keep in mind that English is not my first language.

My tag lists are open, if you want to be included (or if you want to be removed). Just drop me a line.

Word count: 7392 (sorry not sorry)

”Good morning!” Oline came waltzing into the kitchen like she owned the place, wearing a pair of black pyjama pants with cartoon puppies printed along the side, and a light blue t-shirt with a band name no one could determine, because the print was so faded.

Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she hadn’t put any make-up on, but still Sam’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to hide the fact that his body was more awake than his mind was.

She had been on and off hunting with them for almost four years, and lived in the bunker for one and a half of those, but her looks still took his breath away – even looking all dishevelled and tired. It was as if her skin glowed on its own, and her hair… well, Sam would’ve done pretty much anything to run his fingers through it. Quickly, so she wouldn’t catch him staring, he cast his eyes down and kept them focused on the bowl of cereal. “Mrn.”

She didn’t notice the slight breathiness to his voice – or if she did, she was polite enough to not comment on it. Sam smiled into his spoon. She was too nice. If Dean had been there, he would never have heard the end of it.

Daring a glance up, he caught her just as she reached for something on the top shelf; exposing a small line of skin along her hip and back. He could just make out the tips of the points on her anti-possession tattoo, and then decided that he didn’t trust himself enough, so he grabbed his notepad and jotted down a few words just to keep busy.

“Ready for the road?” Her voice sliced through the bubble he’d buried himself in.

“Huh?”

She laughed. “Still not awake, huh? I asked if you’re ready for the road.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” He smiled back at her. “Never seen anyone so eager for a shifter job before.”

Oline shrugged. “ They’re not all that common back home. And those that I did come across couldn’t hide their true identity completely. A tail here, patches of green skin there… Or maybe they were just bad at what they did. I don’t know.”

“Tail? Green skin? I don’t think that’s what we call shapeshifters over here?” Sam said, tilting his head and squinting. His earlier embarrassment was forgotten; always eager to learn about new monsters.

“Really? Ooh! Is that coffee?” She snatched his cup and gulped down half of it before he could even blink. “Yeah,” she said, inhaling the word. “Norwegian shapeshifters live underground, or inside the mountains. Most of them have green or blue skin, and at least the females have tails that resembles cows’ tails, but they change to look more human to lure unsuspecting victims to their deaths. They don’t do that here?”

“Wow, no. What we call shapeshifters are humanoid creatures that can take on the appearance and memories of any living person they decide to mimic. Some can even change into animals. We can kill them with silver through the heart. Or even decapitation.”

Oline tilted her head slightly and smiled upside down. “Huh. Interesting. Gotta read up on them before we get there. Everything is so different over here.” Tapping the side of the cup she’d hijacked, she thought for a second. “I’ve been here for what, four years, and still your country is so foreign. You don’t even have proper brown cheese.”

Getting himself a new cup, Sam blew a silent chuckle through his nose. “Technically, you’re the foreign one, you know.”

“You better have coffee in there!” Dean shuffled through the door, looking very much like he just woke up, and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. “Ugh, I’m getting too old for this shit. Who decided we start this early?”

“You did,” both Sam and Oline replied, watching as Dean bumped into the counter with half closed eyes, both grateful that he offered some distraction from the disaster waiting to happen. Some times Sam could’ve sworn Oline looked at him like she wanted to eat him up – now that was an interesting thought, and then the next moment she seemed totally uninterested. To be honest it drove him mad, never knowing which way to interpret her language.

They ate the rest of their breakfast in comfortable silence. Sam continued to scribble on his note pad, Oline stared into the air, dreaming about an alternate reality where she had the guts to tell Sam how she felt with actual words he’d understand, and Dean slowly sipped his coffee, generally regretting his recent life choices.

“Road trip!” Oline suddenly called, getting to her feet and dumping her plate in the sink.

“How can you possibly be this cheerful so early?” Dean asked gruffly after he refilled his cup.

Oline waved her own cup around. “Because coffee,” she replied with a short giggle. “Og fordi han der er spesielt søt når håret stikker ut til alle kanter. [And because that one is incredibly cute when his hair is sticking out like that.]” She said it deliberately not looking at Sam, because her insides squirmed at the thought of him suddenly understanding her.

“Hey, no fair,” Sam protested. “We don’t speak Norwegian.”

She shrugged with a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Dean lukter som en geit, [Dean smells like a goat]” she teased in a sing-song voice, causing Sam to chuckle. “Men Sam lukter som epler og solskinn. [But Sam smells like apples and sunshine.]”

“Be nice!” Dean replied. “I may not understand the words, but I recognise a non-compliment when I hear one. Would you at least wash your dishes?”

Dancing towards the kitchen door, Oline shook her head. “Sorry, Dean. You know I love you.” She stuck her tongue out and leapt through the doorway. “Meet you by the car in an hour.”

Sam laughed to himself. “Dude.”

“What?”

“I think… she, uh…” He could barely get the words out, laughing so hard. “I think she called you a goat or something. I don’t see the lie, though,” he added, flicking some crumbs at his brother.

“Shut up! You’re… a goat.” There was a moment of silence. “Wait… you know Norwegian?”

Sam ducked his head, his ears turning crimson. “No. Just a couple of words. I’ve been trying to teach myself, but it’s is a friggin’ hard language to learn – I wanted to surprise her.”

Dean stared dumbfounded at him for a few seconds before a big grin cracked over his face. “You’re in love! Oh my god! You are!”

Hiding his face in his hands, Sam shook his head, but he couldn’t hide his own grin. “Shh! I’m… I’m not… shut up.” He got to his feet, grabbing his notebook, and left.

“Great. I live with a couple of slobs,” Dean muttered, grabbing the cereal bowl Sam had left on the table. “We gotta get a maid or something.”

“Good news,” Dean said with a shit-eating grin. “They only had one available room.” He dangled a single key in the air, getting scowls in return. Sam sent him a look that stated: “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I don’t like it.”

Oline groaned. “At least tell me there’s three beds.”

Dean shook his head.

“A sofa? Or a… a chair?”

“Nope. Looks like we’re gonna have to share.”

She rolled her eyes and poked Dean in the chest, lowering her voice. “Du må ikke tro at jeg ikke har gjennomskuet deg! [Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing!]” And then after a brief pause she added: “Fucker!”

Hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she snatched the key from his hand. “Hey, Sam, your brother is disgusting. Mind if I bunk with you?” It was an opportunity after all. She had to make the best of it.

“Sure,” Sam replied with an easy smile, following her inside with his own bag.

When Dean finally got inside, Oline had claimed the bed closest to the window, and she’d already spread her books and papers all over it, and sat cross-legged on the pillows with a pen in her mouth, scrolling down her laptop. Sam had taken his spot on the floor, with his back against the bed, also scrolling on his laptop, but more aware, alert. Like a watchdog. He looked up briefly as Dean closed the door, but seeing no threat, he ignored his brother as best he could.

How these two didn’t realise they belonged together was beyond Dean. He shook his head with a tiny scoff and dumped his duffel onto the other bed. “Got anything yet?”

“Nah. I’m thinking we gotta go government on this. There’s at least one witness who’s sane enough to interview.” Suddenly, Oline dropped her laptop, sending papers rustling to the floor. “Faen! [Shit!]” She breathed the word with her eyes scrunched shut and punched the mattress.

“What is it?” Sam asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” She looked at the Winchesters with utter despair in her eyes. “I forgot my duvet.”

“What?” Dean burst out laughing. “Damn, I thought you’d found something

She grabbed a fistful of the fabric covering the bed. “Your stupid, American motels only have blankets. I’m gonna die of hypothermia.”

She looked so heartbroken even Sam had to laugh. “Relax. It’s like 68 degrees outside.”

“Yeah, but my feet still get cold in the night. And my duvet is so soft,” she pouted, fiddling with her knitted socks.

“Don’t worry,” Dean said once he had dried his eyes. “Sam’s a virtual fire place. He’s gonna keep you warm. Aren’t you, Sammy?”

His brother’s eyes said “Don’t!” but he nodded to Oline. “I’m always hot. And I don’t mind you poking your cold toes on me.” He thought for a second, the stretched and flexed ever so slightly. “Can’t help you with the softness, though.”

“Dude! You’re gross!”

Oline tossed a pillow on Dean. “Hey, he’s no grosser than you. Thank you, Sam.” She smiled and hopped down from the bed. “I’m gonna change into my FBI gear.”

“Smooth,” Dean nodded appreciatively once the bathroom door closed.

“You set this up, didn’t you?” Sam growled through gritted teeth.

“Maybe…”

“Just… just stay out of this, okay? I really don’t want to screw up our friendship.”

“Well, maybe that’s just what you need to do,” Dean grinned and ducked just in time to avoid a second, zooming pillow.

It took two days of investigating and interviewing more or less willing people to figure out where the shapeshifters were hiding. There were four of them, and as far as Oline could see, the shifters were young and inexperienced, filled with new ideas and not too bright on how to pull it off. But still: shifters were dangerous no matter what, and the three of them went through the safety check behind the Impala.

“Silver knife?”

“Check.” Both Sam and Oline held up theirs.

“Shifter gankin’ bullets?”

“Yup.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

“Wait, wait. What’s the plan?”

“The plan?” Dean resembled a big question mark.

“Yeah, dumbass. The plan. There’s four of them and three of us. We can’t just barge in like we normally do.” Oline winked at him, making Sam snort and turn away so Dean wouldn’t see him laugh.

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You want a plan, børk børk?”

“Yeah. And the chef is Swedish, by the way.”

“Oh, Sor-ry! I didn’t mean to step on your toes. Not my fault that it’s practically impossible to see the difference.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Winchester. Else I’d have to kick your butt.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s how it is. And you know I could do it. Sure, you’re a bit stronger than me, but I’m almost as tall as you –“

“Yeah, and those years spent trudging through the snow,” Sam added with a wink, “means her endurance is high.”

Oline blushed. “Thanks, Sam. But I’m not too fond of the snow. I can’t ski to save my life. But I climbed a lot of trees when I was younger. And I’m faster than you.”

“Not likely,” Dean growled, crouching down to pounce on her.

She squealed and ran to hide behind Sam. “Save me!”

With her hands on Sam’s hips, he almost forgot how to breathe. “Alright you two. You can fight it out later. We’ve got a case here. Remember?”

“Sorry, boss,” Oline said in mock regret, turning to Dean. “Truce?”

“Truce. Let’s do this. And quietly.”

The moment they were inside, they split up. Dean took to the right, through the kitchen. Sam went left, heading for the living room, while Oline took the stairs, slowly sneaking along the wall.

She peered around the corner and spotted a shifter. He clearly hadn’t understood the danger yet, so she tip-toed up behind him, ready to stab him, but just as she raised her knife, he turned. Faster than she expected, he leapt to his feet and rushed past her, knocking her over in the process.

Another shifter appeared above her, and she kicked out, hitting him in the ankles. He landed crookedly on a chair, and it broke with a loud crash. It wasn’t enough to take out the shifter, of course, and a couple of seconds later he got to his feet and charged. But that was all it took for Oline to get ready, and with a massive exertion and a loud groan, the knife pierced through the ribs and into the creature’s heart.

The shifter fell heavily to the ground and Oline listened to the air rasp through the punctured lung to make sure she got him properly.

Sam managed to sneak up on the shapeshifter without being discovered, and swiftly and soundlessly drove his silver knife into the creature’s chest. Unfortunately the ruckus made by the dying shifter attracted another one, who hit Sam over the head, then ran away. He staggered back and forth, seeing double from the impact, but as soon as his vision normalised, Sam ran after him, raising his gun in defence.

The sound of Dean’s gun rang through the house, and Oline mentally counted the kills. Dean had one, she had one, and Sam probably had one going by the sound of it. One left, then, and this one had escaped downstairs, unless there was a secret doorway somewhere.

At the bottom of the stairs, she bumped into Dean. “One left,” they said simultaneously.

“Yeah,” Oline panted. “He got past me and ran downstairs before I could get him.”

“I’ll go,” Dean began, but she stopped him.

“No, I got this. He owes me the satisfaction of dying. Besides, Sam’s still there. Two of us: one of him. Piece of cake. Go get the shovels. “

“Anything to get some alone time with my brother, huh?” Dean replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Dean! Don’t make me slap you. I’m more than capable of kicking your ass. I wasn’t kidding earlier.”

“Alright, alright. Calm down. Go help Sam or whatever. I’ll be back in a few.”

When Sam skidded through the doorway he came face to face with Oline, and lowered his gun. “We got them all?”

She grinned widely and took a few steps towards him, but just then he heard her yell “Duck!” somewhere behind him, before something shiny zoomed past him, lodging itself in Oline’s chest. She collapsed on the floor, lifeless and cold, and Sam cried out, dropping to his knees. He was interrupted by Oline’s arms around his shoulders.

“I’m me,” she said calmly. When he didn’t answer right away, she moved around him, pointed to the blood soaked pile of human remains on the floor and said “Shapeshifter!” then at herself and grinned: “Oli.”

His eyes narrowed, and he remained still.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, reaching out to him again. When he recoiled, she wanted to scream. To see him unsure and almost afraid of her hurt more than anything else she’d experienced since she came to the US, but she swallowed the grief, telling herself she would probably react the same way.

“It really is me. I promise.” She pulled the knife from the body on the floor, wiped it on her jeans, and ran the edge over her arm. The blood was dark red against her pale skin. “See? It’s me.”

Sam took a few moments to react, so Oline decided to try another approach. “Remember when we got drunk in Seattle and I kissed your eyelid better after you got in a fight with that douche. Over… over… what was it?”

“He insulted your accent,” Sam replied with a smile, neglecting to mention that a shapeshifter would’ve had access to her memories; he was satisfied that she was the Oline he knew. To be honest he just wanted to hold her close. “We laughed so much on the way back from the bar…” He could still feel her lips on his skin, and the memory woke the slumbering butterflies in his stomach.

“Heh, yeah. We must have looked like lunatics.” She thought back to that intensely intimate moment, and felt her ears burn. She’d managed to blame it on the alcohol, but she knew that was just an excuse.

Taking her outstretched hand, Sam pulled himself from the floor. “Come on. Let’s go help Dean.”

“He’s gone to get the shovels,” Oline grinned. “We’re done here.”

He marvelled how quickly she could change; from gentle and caring one moment to bubbly and cheerful the next. And now he had that eyelid kiss stuck in the front of his brain. He wondered if it was possible to love someone more than he did Oline. He doubted it, but still he said nothing.

She let go of Sam’s hand the moment they were outside. More than anything she wanted to keep him close, but with the recently surfaced memory from Seattle, she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t say or do something stupid. There was no way Sam felt the same way, and she didn’t want to risk heartbreak.

When she let go of his hand, Sam breathed out slowly, both in relief and disappointment. The electricity and heat spreading from her hand made him dizzy, but it felt good. And the lack of contact made him feel cold, but it made it easier not to do or say anything stupid.

They buried the bodies in shallow graves in the field behind the house, salting them for good measure. It was starting to get dark when Dean dropped the last shovel of dirt onto the very last grave, patting it a couple of extra times before kicking a layer of grass and sticks and leaves over it.

“Whooo!” Oline yelled and pumped her fist in the air, making Dean jump in surprise. “Who’s awesome? Oh yes, we are!”

Sam couldn’t help but smile too: her enthusiasm and joy was contagious.

“Damn straight we are,” Dean replied, and they high-fived, causing Sam to groan loudly.

“Really, how old are you?”

“Aw, Sam, you jealous?” she pouted, offering her hand up. “Come on then, don’t leave me hanging. I’ve been told it’s rude.”

“Fine.” He slapped her hand, and she laughed, mostly to drown the squeal that built in her throat every time they touched.

Her laughter rippled through Sam’s body like waves of pure sunlight, and he suspected he could probably live on that feeling alone for the rest of his days. To mask his urge to pull her into a bone-crushing hug, he grumbled a little extra, muttering about acting like teenagers, before throwing the shovel over his shoulder and setting course for the Impala.

“Hey, gimme a break. I never had an American childhood. This is all still pretty new and shiny to me. We typically never touch each other back home. Let me have my moments of physical contact?” She wiped sweat and dirt from her face before following Sam. “We are the champions,” she sang, high-fiving Dean again on her way past him. “Gotta celebrate this. What do you say, huh? The three of us and a pile of beer bottles?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean grinned. “Remind me why I haven’t married you yet?”

She faked a gag. “Um, because that would be gross and considered wildly inappropriate, Winchester. You’re not my type.”

Dean laughed loudly. “Oh yeah, there’s that.”

Her eyes flicked over to Sam, and the short gesture wasn’t lost on Dean, but he said nothing this time: he’d tried to push her before, and that nearly ended with a black eye, so he kept to light teasing and inside jokes now and then.

Sam, however, was completely oblivious to the look he’d just received – lost in his own thoughts.

“You in, Sammy?” Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Beer, burgers, babes… Celebrate our success. Come on, bro. Have a little fun. Even you can’t be boring all the time.”

“Yeah, I’m up for a few beers,” Sam said eventually. “But I’d like to wash off this gunk, though.” He wiped the blood from his hands on his jeans.

“Oh yeah,” Oline nodded enthusiastically. “Shower. Definitely.”

The bathroom door opened, and Sam emerged like he was in a cheesy rom-com. Steam billowed around him, and he wore nothing but a pair of jeans.

Oline stopped mid-scrolling. Her brain lost all function, she lost the ability to speak; she just stared with her hand hovering over the mouse pad on her laptop.

When her brain regained consciousness, she quickly averted her eyes and swore silently. “Faen. Skulle tro du gjorde det med vilje. Hvis du fortsetter sånn, kommer jeg til å selvantenne – eller drukne! [Fuck. I could almost think you’re doing it on purpose. If you continue like that I’ll spontaneously combust – or drown!]”

“What was that? He looked up, still with the towel in his hand.

“Uh… nothing,” she lied quickly, rubbing the embarrassment from the back of her neck. “Hope you left some hot water for me.”

They found a table close to the exit and plopped down on the chairs, ignoring their slight stickiness. And after the first sip of beer, Oline sighed happily. “Nothing like a good beer after a hunt,” she smiled, gazing around the crowded room to hide her frequent looks in Sam’s direction.

“Never met anyone who enjoys her beer more than you,” Dean grinned, clinking his bottle against hers.

“Well, how can I not? I mean, beer is so cheap here. It’s like… $4 for a bottle? It’s crazy! Back home you’re lucky if you find one under $10.”

“I’m drinking to that.” Lifting his bottle, Dean toasted the air. “Hey, you never said why you left. Don’t you ever miss home?”

She nodded and smiled sadly into her glass. “I do. But I can never go back. I’ll tell you sometime. Another time. Let’s talk about something else?”

“Sorry.” Dean fell silent, and they all sat just listening to the music and sipping their drinks for a while.

But after a few minutes, Sam put his hand on Oline’s knee. “Hey, you okay?” He’d caught her sighing deeply. She nodded, blinking rapidly a couple of times, and he could have sworn he saw tears glittering in her eyes, but they disappeared so fast he wasn’t completely sure.

Her answer came as a whisper, and it hit him in the gut. “Yeah. I just miss my family. It hurts that I’ll never see them again.”

“I’m here if you want to talk,” he replied, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her knee. “When you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Sam. It means a lot.”

Dean looked up, studying Oline’s face, but said nothing.

After a long silence, she dragged her hand across her face and leaned back in her seat. “I first decided to leave when it became clear to me that I couldn’t stay without killing them – my parents, I mean,” she began. Hesitantly, fearing shock and judgement in the brothers’ faces.

Dean frowned slightly, but kept quiet: she could see the dozens of questions bubbling on his tongue, and how he swallowed them down. Sam’s gaze softened, and he squeezed her knee gently, giving her courage and strength to continue.

When they didn’t show any signs of wanting to run away, she grimaced what could have been an uncertain smile, and spoke again: “…six years ago I think it was, when my parents were bitten and changed. And they embraced their new lives with delight. Soon the small hunting community we were a part of demanded I’d take care of them. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it: even knowing the chaos and destruction they brought. I just couldn’t. My guess is they’re dead now anyway. I don’t know.”

She sighed and breathed out a short laugh. “Pathetic, I know. Running away from my responsibilities like that, but I… so I left. Got away. Travelled for a bit. Eventually I got on a plane and landed in Boston. Did a bit of sightseeing, but the hunter’s life never lets you go, yeah? Hunting new monsters over here became sort of a healing process, I guess. Then I ran into you guys. Best coincidence in my life.”

The three of them fell silent, before Oline spoke up again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to deflate the balloon like that. Let’s talk about something else. Like that woman over there,” she said after looking around the room searching for a topic. “She’s been ogling you since we got here, Dean.”

Picking up on her intentions right away, Dean sat up straighter. “Who?”

“The one over there with the bouncy, red curls. Don’t look now. I’ll let you know when…”

And so the next few hours flew by in a fog of discussing old and new conquests, women – and a few men, alcohol, music, and even more alcohol. Eventually Dean decided to go say hello to the redhead, bringing her over to the table, and making Oline and Sam uncomfortable.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” Oline declared after a few minutes of being forced to watch Dean’s moves, standing up faster than she ought to, knocking over her chair. “You want anything, handsome?”

“No thanks,” Dean replied, quickly ducking from her hand swatting the back of his head.

She swayed slightly. “How ‘bout you, Sam? Another?”

He measured what was left in his glass and shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Suit yourself,” Oline replied defiantly and made her way over to the bar.

Sam followed her with his eyes, memorising how she moved; still elegant, even now when she was drunk and had to use other people as support to not wobble too much.

“Dude!” Dean said, punching his brother in the arm.

“Ow! What?” Rubbing the forming bruise, Sam scowled back.

“That girl’s got it bad for you,” the redhead said, earning a nod and affirmative grunt from Dean.

“Shut up!” Sam looked back at Oline, who was talking to a guy at the bar. She was laughing and leaning close to him, and he recognised the look in the guy’s eyes: stars and dark lust – he’d hit jackpot.

Once again Sam failed to notice the longing look Oline gave him before she turned around and unleashed her smile on the gentleman next to her. But he did see the effect she had on the stranger. Within a minute of talking to him, he was completely under her spell. And it made Sam feel nauseous.

“I’m… gonna head back to the motel,” he muttered. “Don’t feel too good.”

Looking up from the woman sitting in his lap, Dean raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Need me to come with you?”

Sam shook his head and downed the rest of his drink. “Nah. I’ll be fine. You have fun now.” He nodded once to the woman and left the bar.

When Oline turned back to look at Sam again, she was devastated to find him gone. Devastated, but not surprised. He was bound to find a lady to spend the night with – half the bar practically threw themselves at his feet when they entered, but it hurt nonetheless. She so wanted to be the one he took home.

It wasn’t until Dean slammed the bathroom door and shook his wet hair over him that Sam woke up. Flopping sleepily, he rolled over on the side and pulled the blanket over his face. Silence reigned for a few seconds before he warily emerged from his cocoon. “Ugh. What time is it?”

“Good morning, little brother.” Dean was positively beaming. “It’s…” He checked this watch. “6.15 – and I just got back! Oh man! You missed out last night. Daisy, you remember Daisy? She had a friend, and since you weren’t there, I was feeling generous…”

And with that he launched into a monologue so filled with confidence and smugness that Sam couldn’t wait for Oline to finish in the shower so he could get away. He only hoped she left some hot… water… There was no water running and the door was cracked open.

“Hey, Dean?”

“…and let me tell you: she wasn’t shy. Oh no –“

“Dean. Did Oli –“

“Neither of them were, if you know what I mean –“

“Dean! Will you shut up for a goddamned minute?” Sam almost yelled, causing Dean to smack his mouth shut with a betrayed look on his face. “Thank you. Did Oli leave to get breakfast?” Best to play it casual.

“Don’t think so,” Dean replied with a slight shrug. “Looks to me like she didn’t come back here last night. Her stuff is untouched.”

Sam sniffed her pillow, concealed as a yawn. It still smelled like the motel’s detergent. She definitely hadn’t slept there, but he patted it just to make sure. It was cold. “You’re right,” he muttered.

“Good for her. She needed a good lay. Not surprised she took off when she faced a night in bed with you.”

“Screw you!” Sam grabbed his phone. No messages. Good morning. Will you be long? Dean’s going to get breakfast. What’cha want? We’re rolling in a couple hours. He sent it more to calm the growing unease in his stomach, then got out of bed and into the shower, letting the running water massage his sore muscles.

The first thing he did when he got out was to check for a reply. Nothing. Hey, sleepyhead. Time to head north again. Still nothing. Oli? You OK?

“Dean, I don’t feel too good about this. Oli’s not answering my texts.”

“So she’s busy. I wouldn’t answer your clingy ass if I was in the middle of a good time either.” When Dean put a hand on his shoulder, Sam looked up: seeking some sort of comfort in his brother’s face. He got none. Instead, Dean asked: “I’m getting us something to eat. Want coffee?”

“Please. And a bagel.” Sam didn’t really feel hungry, but he needed some time to think.

Dean nodded. “And don’t worry about Oli. She’ll be fine.”

“Mhm.” Sam automatically glanced down on his phone, then flung it on the bed, picking up his laptop instead. Didn’t take long before he reached for his phone again. Still nothing. Sam sighed.

“Listen, if this bothers you so much, why don’t you talk to her? Tell her –“

“Yeah, alright, Dean. Thank you. Get out of here.” He had a point. But Sam just didn’t know how to begin. And the what ifs were piling high in his brain. This was not how he imagined it though. Sure, he’d been annoyed as hell when Dean conned them into sharing a bed, but it was an opportunity he just had to take. But now he realised he was too late. What if she had found someone? What if she decided to leave the life? He couldn’t blame her. Once he would’ve abandoned everything for a shot at a normal, boring life too.

When Dean came back thirty minutes later, Sam had worked himself so up he was convinced that Oline had already eloped to get married to some random dude. And it didn’t help that Dean thought it was hilarious.

“She’ll waltz in here in an hour, glowing and smiling shyly, and then we’ll carry on like usual.”

The hour came and went. Sam became more and more nervous. Even Dean was becoming a little antsy. “Maybe she just needs some alone time,” Dean said. “Remember when we first met her? I was convinced she didn’t like me, ‘cause she was so hard to get to know. Besides, Oline’s basically a Viking. She can take care of herself.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied with a grimace. “But I still think it’s weird she hasn’t replied to my texts.”

Ping. Sam’s phone chimed happily, but he snatched it with force, staring at the message on the screen.

Dean grinned. “See? She probably just woke up a bit late.”

“No text,” Sam replied silently. “Only this.” He held out his phone. The message was just a link to a video. Nothing more.

Dean cocked his head. “Huh. What –“

Sam groaned. “What if she… what if she says she wants out? That she doesn’t want … I mean, she’s been gone since last night.”

“Come on,” Dean said with a reassuring smile. “Oli would never do that. She’s probably just, I don’t know, lost track of time or something. It happens,” he added with a grin.

Not the answer Sam wanted, and he glared at his brother. “Not helping.”

“Just doing my duty. Let’s see what she has to say before you panic, okay?” He grabbed the phone and opened the link.

The video was dark at first. They could barely make out a dark figure in the middle of the shot, but nothing else. Occasionally shadows flitted across the screen and they heard soft feet pitter-pattering over concrete floor. Somewhere out of the shot they heard running water.

“What the hell?” Dean began, but Sam interrupted him.

“Shhh! Something’s happening.” His stomach felt like he’d swallowed a rock.

Suddenly the light was switched on, and Sam felt like throwing up. If Dean hadn’t been holding the phone too he would’ve dropped it: the dark figure was Y/N. Slumped over in a chair, she looked bruised and beaten, and her jeans were stained dark red.

“Wakey wakey,” a coarse voice said from behind the camera.

Oline groaned and stirred, slowly lifting her head, to reveal a swollen, bloody face, and a split lip.

“Oli,” Sam breathed, gripping the blanked he was sitting on tightly. Dean growled in agreement.

It took a few minutes before she regained full consciousness, blinking and swallowing; wincing when her skin stretched and moved. Then, as if the floodgates had opened, she started yelling. Her voice was raw and somewhat diminished, but her meaning was clear enough. “I helvete?! Hva faen er det dere driver med? Kom her din jævla feige kukskalle, så skal jeg faen steike meg sparke deg så hardt i ballene at du kjenner smaken av dem i halsen! Din forbannade forpulte pikk! Slipp meg løs for faen! Jeg skal faen meg gi deg deng, din helsikes forbannade demonjævel! [What the hell? What the fuck are you doing? Come here you fucking cowardly dickhead; I’ll fucking kick you so hard in the nuts you’ll taste them in your throat. You damned, fucking cock! Let me fucking go! I’ll fucking kick your ass, you goddamn fucking demon bastard!]”

She continued to yell, both while exhaling and inhaling, making Sam’s mouth twitch. At least she still had her wits. But the fuckers were gonna pay for what they’d done. He looked over at Dean who just stared at the screen. Sonofabitch!

“Wow. Didn’t expect such language from a lady.”

Both men whipped around, drawing their guns in fluid motions, but when they realised the intruder was a minor threat, they relaxed somewhat.

“What are you doing here, Crowley?” Sam asked, slouching back on the bed.

“I’ve missed you too,” Crowley replied with an air kiss. “Can’t a King check on his favourite nightmare subjects?”

Sam scoffed. “We’re not your… argh! Forget it!” He grabbed his phone and leaned on the headboard, flicking the phone back and forth between his hands.

“I’m not too proud to admit it: Hell bores me. So I came up to see if you had something exciting going on. What’s up with Samantha? I haven’t had a welcome this icy since I came for Prince Albert. Victoria could be quite stern when she wanted to. Makes me feel all sorts of nostalgic.”

Dean clenched his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oli’s been kidnapped.”

“Ah,” Crowley nodded, “that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Sam’s dread – seriously, the stench fills the whole room – and Oline’s colourful phrasing. She got quite the razor tongue when she’s pissed.”

“Wait, you understand this?” Sam gestured with the phone.

“I’m the king of Hell, you moron. It’s in my job description. Wouldn’t be much of a King if all it took was a foreign language to keep secrets from me. Now what did I miss?” He held out his hand and Sam handed him the phone.

With the video playing in the background, Crowley started translating. “Well, they certainly aren’t my demons. In fact I rather think they’re something else entirely.” He tossed the phone on the bed, where it bounced a couple of times before settling. “I think I’ve seen enough. Shall we?”

“Shall we, what?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Go rescue the damsel in distress, of course. Get her safely home so Sam can go back to pining after her. Really! How thick are you?”

Squinting, Sam got to his feet. “You’re just gonna help us like that? Out of the kindness of your heart?”

“I’m nice like that,” Crowley smirked. “All I want in return –“ He paused dramatically to think, “– is your undying gratitude and a couple of favours to cash in when –“ Sam looked like he was ready to launch himself at the demon. “Alright, I’ll help you for a bottle of whisky; the good stuff, not that gut-rot you usually poison yourself with.”

“Done,” Sam said quickly.

“…and you have to address me as Your Majesty until we get her.”

“Eat shit, Crowley!” Dean spat, looking like someone had suggested painting his beloved Impala neon pink. “You… that’s… you...”

“Appappapp! What are you forgetting?”

Sam looked at Dean, and they both pursed their lips. “It’s a deal,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”

“It’s a deal…?”

“Ugh, for the love of… It’s a deal, Your Majesty,” Sam added, apparently struggling to speak without self-combusting.

Crowley clapped enthusiastically before catching himself and reverting back to his dignified, solemn self. “Oh, I gotta get this on tape,” he giggled. “This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

“So… your… Your Majesty, gonna tell us what we’re dealing with? Ugh! Do I really have to call you … that?”

“I fully intend to enjoy this as long as I can, yes,” Crowley replied with a nod. “It’s not every day you two morons show me the respect I deserve.”

“Oh, come on!”

“As for who has Oline,” he continued, ignoring Dean’s outburst, “look.” He paused the video and pointed to two tiny, but very distinct flares on the screen.

“Shifters,” Dean muttered.

“But we got everyone,” Sam began.

“Then you did a poor job, because there’s most definitely some left. And they look pissed. I would be too,” Crowley added with a shrug, “if some half-wit hunter burst through my front door and killed most of my family.”

Dean drove like a maniac, more so than usual. Normally Sam would’ve told him to calm down, but now he sat in silence, with a murderous look on his face. In the backseat sat Crowley, starting to feel a bit green around the eyes. He seriously debated whether or not he should just teleport to the hideout, but then he’d miss the opportunity to bother the boys, so he bit his teeth together and focused on the road ahead.

“Well, that was tense,” he said after the Impala screeched to a halt outside the large building. He stretched his legs and gulped down the cool evening air. “This is where you screwed up last night?”

Sam’s lips were straight and his eyes almost shot lightning bolts. “Shut it, Crowl – Your Majesty. Let’s just find these bitches. My patience is wearing thin.”

It didn’t take long to take care of the last two shifters. Although pissed and strong, they were no match for Crowley, who seemed to find it relaxing and therapeutic to kill. By the time the second one hit the floor, he was grinning from ear to ear. “Ah,” he sighed. “There’s nothing like a little bloodshed in the evening. Pity there weren’t more of them.”

Oline didn’t even look up when he started to untie her; just flexed her jaw and furrowed her eyebrows. “Få de jævla hendene dine vekk fra meg! Jeg sverger: når jeg kommer meg løs hefra så er du en død mann! [Get those fucking hands off of me! I swear: when I get out of this, you’re a dead man!]”

Crowley chuckled and ran a hand through her hair. “You’re not gonna kill anyone, darling. There’s no one left TO kill. But I’m sure there’s other ways for you to use all that pent up rage and energy.”

“Crowley? Du er ikke virkelig. Bare en drøm. Faen… [You’re not real. Just a dream. Fuck…]”

“Some people have been known to call me a dream, yes, and I do travel with a pair of plaid nightmares –“

Sam pushed past Crowley and sank to his knees in front of the chair. “Oli, sweetie, look at me. Can you do that for me, please?” He lifted her chin up with his fingers, and smiled softly when her eyes slowly opened.

“Sam? Is it really you? It’s not just an illusion?”

He sighed, sniffing the tear that slid down the edge of his nose. “No, sweetie, it’s really me. And Dean is here too. Even Crowley.”

“I knew you’d come for me. Just hoped it would be before it was too late.”

“Of course we came for you. It’s not the same without you.” He swallowed. He had to lighten the weight on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do if you – I’m crazy about you.”

Dean coughed and grabbed Crowley’s sleeve. “Let’s give them a few minutes. Help me bury the bodies.” Crowley raised his eyebrows, making Dean sigh loudly. “Alright. Help me bury the bodies, Your Majesty. But this is the last one, I swear!”

“I’m gonna miss it,” Crowley sniggered, but he followed Dean outside.

Oline looked from the door to Sam.

“I know,” he replied to her silent question. “It’s a long story, but a small price to pay, really.” He took her hands in his, rubbing the cold from them. “I’m sorry, Oli. I really am.”

“For what?” Her voice cracked as she let out a short, nervous breath.

“That it took something like this to make me say something. I mean… with the life we lead, you’d think we’d understand how fragile that balance can be. But I’d like to… I mean… Can we try to…”

“Yes! I’m… I’m crazy about you too. Just didn’t know how to…” She reached up and put her arms around Sam’s neck, and he swooped her up, giggling like a teenager.

Carefully Oline pressed her lips against his, but withdrew quickly with a hiss. “Ow! Stupid monsters ruining my dream even when they’re dead.”

“Your dream, huh? Well, luckily this isn’t a dream you have to wake up from. There’s plenty of time to live it.” He searched her face for an unharmed spot, and kissed it tenderly.

“Aww… Aren’t you cute?” Crowley cooed from the doorway.

Oline leaned on Sam’s chest, and he rested his head on her shoulder. “Should think so yeah,” she grinned. “I’m adorable and he’s only the most handsome man in the world.”

Dean stuck his head around the corner and grimaced. “Ew, come on, Crowley. Oli clearly got hit on the head or something.”

Tagging these magnificent people:

@aiaranradnay @awesomeahwu @brynleewolfe @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @iamreadinginsecret

#sam x ofc #sam x oline #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn #fanfic #norwegian ofc #writing is hard #shapeshifters

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toopliss-chewtoy · 8 years

Text

Get Well Soon

What is this? Not one, but two fics in one day?? MADNESS!

Indeed, my friends. HiJack March Madness to be exact. Another point for the pnau team because I couldn’t pass up on this idea ;) - J.

Warnings: description of wounds Size: 1052 words Summary: Something with judging and books and their covers? Also on AO3

Get Well Soon

Hikke loved his job. Helping people is what he became a nurse for, and it gave him great satisfaction to be able to make a difference. To be depended on and perform a job to the best of his capabilities. To save lives, even.

Some people, however, totally had it coming. Like the one that drew a knife on someone, tripped, and cut himself instead.

Or in a less extreme example: this guy.

‘Skateboard accident’, his card said. Hikke was not at all surprised. The figure had white hair and wore an obscure band shirt, studded belt, and torn skinny jeans that were most certainly already torn up before he had his close encounter with the road. He saw reckless idiots like that all the time in the ER.

Hikke continued to read what was required of him. He wanted to get this done as soon as possible and move on. “Okay, Mr… Overland.”

“Jack.”

“Hmm?”

“You can call me Jack. What’s your name?”

“Hikke.”

“Sounds like ‘hiccup’.”

“Only it isn’t. It’s Norwegian,” Hikke explained as he flipped a page. The surgeon had already glued the cut on Mr. Overland’s eyebrow; there was just a lot of cleanup and bandaging left.

“So, you just need some patching up I see.”

“Ya think?”

Hikke glanced over the top of his flip-board, unamused. The punk was grinning broadly though, despite the bruise/chafe combination on his forehead. He was holding up his pretty torn up hand as if to prove his point. The brunet shook his head and started gathering the necessary supplies.

As he started to disinfect Jack’s hand, he couldn’t help but scold him a little.

“You should be glad you didn’t break any bones.”

“I’m flexible.”

“You could have cracked your skull.”

“Which is why I was here: to make sure I hadn’t.”

“Aren’t you a bit too old to skateboard anyway?”

“Still young of mind.”

“Too bad the body couldn’t keep up, eh?”

“Hey, my body is just fine. AAahAH watch it! But as I said. Nothing wrong with the body.”

“I hope you at least got a good video out of it.”

“Sadly not.”

“No-one filmed it?”

“It was probably an epic flip I did, but it wasn’t exactly planned.”

Hikke briefly halted his work, surprised. “You weren’t trying some super rad and ridiculously dangerous trick?”

“Ehm… no. The card says ‘skateboard accident’ but I wasn’t the one on the board. Not this time, anyway.”

“Oh. Right.” Hiccup finished wrapping up his hand and examined scrapes and cuts on his arm. “So what happened exactly?”

“I’m not sure, it’s all fuzzy.”

“Give it time, memory often returns later.” One more bandage done. The nurse moved to inspect Jack’s head-wound. It was glued neatly; leave it to Dr. Claus to deliver nothing short of perfection.

“Santa did a good job,” Hikke mumbled subconsciously.

“Who?”

“Dr. Claus. The one that glued your eyebrow.”

Jack laughed, then winced. Hikke figured he must have a pretty bad headache after a bang like that. He started feeling a bit bad for his hasty judgment of the punk. Maybe he shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, eh?

“Sorry, I’ll try not to make you laugh. I can’t give you any more painkillers at the moment.”

“It’s okay.”

The brunet worked in silence for a while, cleaning up Jack’s face with wipes and disinfectant, putting band-aids or gauze where needed. Then it was time for the knees… the flimsy, torn pants had done virtually nothing to protect them.

“Someone saw it happen though,”Jack suddenly offered.

“Oh?” Hikke briefly looked up from his work. The punk had an uncomfortable expression, so he added: “You don’t have to tell me, of course. I’m just making small-talk. I could also tell you about all the weird objects I’ve seen inside people on x-rays.”

“That would be amusing, but I was trying not to laugh, remember?” Jack grinned. “Anyway… I was riding my bike, and this kid came rushing by on his skateboard. We were about to crash into each other. I guess he didn’t see me, but they told me I managed to evade him. Next thing I know, I’m in the hospital.”

Now the nurse really felt guilty. And all the while Jack hadn’t even seemed annoyed at his unjustified scolding!

“And the kid?”

“Probably fine. They say he didn’t even stop.”

“You seem very calm under it. Aren’t you angry?”

“Nah. I’ve been like that too. I bet the kid learned from this, and that’s enough.”

Hikke just nodded and finished his work. That was an admirable attitude. “There. Professional mummy.”

The white-haired man grinned and he was about to laugh again, when he made a sudden lunge for one of the cardboard bowls used for waste. He noisily emptied his stomach into it. Hikke supported him while he heaved, and gave him a bit of water when his stomach calmed down again.

“Whoa there. Are you done?”

“I think so,” the other croaked with a pained expression.

“The file said you probably have a concussion. The doctor explained what that meant right?”

“Yeah. That I have brains after all.”

Hikke couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes. And you need to be woken up every hour tonight, to make sure there is no other, hidden damage.”

“Oh, that. I live alone.”

“No-one you can call to help you?”

“Nope.”

“What? No girlfriend with looks like yours?”

Jack scoffed. “Boyfriend. And not everyone digs the bruised look like you do.”

Laughing, Hikke held out his hand. “Give me your phone. I’ll put my contact in it and send myself a text. I’ll call you every hour.”

“Nah, you don’t have to. I’m fine.”

“I’m the nurse here, remember? Now give me your phone.”

And so Hikke the cute nurse called Jack the bruised punk every hour of the night. And every hour, he asked a few questions until he was satisfied Jack could give clear answers. ‘What day is it’ gets boring quickly, so Hikke also learned that Jack had a sister, preferred dogs over cats, and that he liked pineapple on his pizza. The heathen.

After the last phonecall, at 8 am, Hikke sent a text.

H: Hey, coffee when you’re better?

H: To make up for making you puke ;)

#hijack #frostcup #hijack march madness #march madness #pnau #j writes #wounds tw

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renaroo · 8 years

Text

Recovery None (57/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Kaikaina/South, Gimmons Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Three former Freelancers were chosen for particular tasks: Zero is to hunt down and destroy the Meta, One is to investigate and recover stolen or missing equipment, and Two is to take down AWOL former agents.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: There is an abrupt tonal shift that can only happen in Blood Gulch and a few other surprises in this chapter I think everyone’s going to appreciate since I’ve been asked about them for more than a few chapters now ; ) But to anyone still wondering, yes, I’m keeping the limited narration for Two chapters down to just South’s POV now. No one will be taking North’s place for the remainder of the fic (which isn’t that much more OH MY GOSH HOW ARE WE FOUR CHAPTERS FROM THE END)

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, @analiarvb, @notatroll7, @every-survival, @icefrozenover, @washingtonstub, @a-taller-tale, @freshzombiewriter, Yin, irismon, DuchessPoint, and Linni for the feedback!

Recovery Two XVII: Sisters

She still didn’t know what she was doing.

South stood to lose everything and yet all she could think was how hollow of a threat that truly was to her. Everything meant so little when, collectively, she possessed truly nothing of value. Not anymore.

She was still in the canyon, wondering whether it was instinct honed in by years of training or what dwindling sense of self-preservation she still owned, but she had stuck to the shadows, out of sight of all the natives to the canyon, former Freelancers, tanks, and all.

From a distance, she observed things. And even though he was long dead, it was the closest she had felt to North in years.

Can I project now? Theta asked. It looks like everyone is leaving anyway. No one’s gonna see me.

Watching as York and Washington passed through a transporter and Four Seven Niner returned to a Scorpion tank, South narrowed her eyes. “No,” she answered finally. “I don’t need you attracting attention. Either from the mouth breathers here or from the possibility of attracting it.”

Theta sent a shudder through her, from the base of her skull to the tips of her fingers and toes.

“Stop doing that,” she ordered harshly. “Taking hold of my nervous system.”

Sorry, the AI quickly apologized. But I don’t... it’s not a conscious thing or anything, South. I just feel things. And as long as I’m here, you’ll feel them, too.

She nearly rolled her eyes. “I understand how implantation works! I just... Forget it. I don’t know what the hell I ever wanted with an AI anyway.”

You saw us as advanced tools rewarding the best, and you wanted to be the best, he answered. Now that it’s real and human it feels weird to think of us that way.

South hardly kept her eyes set on the scene at Blue Base. “Did I ask for a psychoanalysis?”

Not out loud.

“Well, since you’re suddenly so opinionated, Theta, I’ve got a question for you,” South snapped. “Why are we doing this? Why are we anywhere near this place and not sticking with that plan of replacing an agent of Freelancer and hijacking a ticket off this mudball? What are we doing?”

Going against orders, Theta appeared briefly over her shoulder. “I think you’re interested in that one girl’s big, bouncy boobs.”

“Oh my god, you horny teenager, get out of my brain!” she snarled.

“I could go to your suit more and leave your implants more vacated if you--”

Before Theta could continue, South held up her hand and silenced him. Her eyes darted toward the gathering in the canyon. Sure enough, Kaikaina was heading her way, practically bouncing with every step.

Theta snorted. “Bouncing, I put that on your mind.”

“Go dark,” South ordered.

“Why? Kaikaina has seen me before. She’s the only one who does know about me. Because you wouldn’t let me apologize to York like I told you to let me--”

Looking to the AI’s projection directly, South snarled. “Theta, I will use override commands liberally. I’m not North. I’m not playing around with you and giving you uneven footing in this so-called relationship of ours. Go dark.”

For a moment, Theta seemed to resist before dropping his head and shaking his head. “You’re right. You’re not North,” he said almost bitterly before flickering offline.

“Little bastard,” South hissed. She then looked toward Kaikaina just as the woman got within reach of her.

“How’re you supposed to bodyguard from, like, twenty feet away?” Kaikaina asked breathlessly. “Man. Why’s it so hot in this place? It sucks more dicks than I do.”

“What?” South blinked.

“What?” Kaikaina asked back.

Exhaling sharply through her nose, South leaned back against the rock she had been spying from. “Do you want me to answer those questions in order?” she asked.

“Which questions?” Kaikaina asked.

“The ones you asked me,” South clarified impatiently.

The simulation trooper tilted her head. “Uh, yeah. Generally that’s the point of asking someone questions. To get the answers. Man. Are all bodyguards such sticklers for, like, everything?”

Deciding to humor the only minor relationship she had flimsily constructed in the past twenty-four hours, South began listing off on her fingers. “I bodyguard by surveying and assessing situations from a distance then coordinating action from what I see. It’s hot here because of our geographical location and because while the UNSC decided -- on poor faith -- to terraform this rock for sustainable life, ultimately it does not rotate quickly enough on its axis to give similar diurnal and nocturnal habitats like Earth and our other terraformed colony planetoids. Constant sunlight gives this planet a giant-ass-desert in the middle of the sun-baring side and we’re on the outskirts of it. And, finally, I don’t care whether or not other bodyguards are sticklers, because they’re not your bodyguard, I am. And anyone who isn’t me sucks.”

When South had finished, she took a deep breath and then looked expectantly toward Kaikaina. Even fully armored, there was no hiding that blank stare the younger soldier was giving her.

“Yeah, okay, sure,” she finally responded with a fully body shrug. “Hey, if you’re my bodyguard, should’t you be calling me, like ma’am and stuff? Like making me sandwiches and opening the door when it rings?”

“I’m not a butler, I just save your life,” South replied. “Do you want to be called ‘ma’am’, you’re like... twelve.”

“Uh, I’m an adult. I’m Nineteen, so suck it,” Kai responded. “And I guess I don’t like when other people say ma’am because my mom was a ma’am or a sir if someone was being an asshole about her beard. But when you say it, your voice is, like, all husky and heavy and it’s really hot. So if you want to call me ma’am I’d be down with it.”

“What,” South replied.

“What?” Kai asked back.

“You know what, it really doesn’t matter,” South replied lowly. “Honestly, I’m beginning to think if anything matters right now. And I’m having a hard time finding any evidence that it does.”

“Wow, that’s dark,” Kai responded, crossing her arms.

“I’m a tortured soul, didn’t you know?” South replied sarcastically.

“You’re bitchy, it’s kinda hot,” Kai announced, leaning against the rock as well, close enough to brush arms with South.

“What are you doing?” South demanded.

“Waiting for you to get over yourself,” Kaikaina shrugged. “Or for you to bodyguard me from something epic. I must be super important for them to give me the best Freelancer for a bodyguard.”

Surprised, South turned and looked at Kai. “I never said I was the best.”

“You don’t have to, you’re a complete hardass and you talked circles around those guys back at the other base,” Kaikaina explained. “Obviously my Freelancer is the best one.”

“Your,” South remarked with a scoff. Despite herself, though, she had a smile. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“I know I ma, I always guessed people’s weights right at the circus,” Kai shrugged. “I’m a good judge of character like that.”

South smirked at her. “Obviously.” She then took pause and turned entirely toward Kaikaina. “So what was the deal down there? Why did the Reds split up?”

"Oh, I dunno,” Kaikaina shrugged. “Some of them wanted to follow the space cop to go after some movie director? And that other Freelancer went with him, which makes me think -- a pirate, a guy with a funny accent, and a cop all going to find a director? Total porno. I’d watch it.”

South felt her blood cool in her veins and she grew more alert.

Him, Theta hissed in her mind.

“The Director?” South questioned, hardly able to find words.

“Right, so they went through that portal thingy, but my bro said fuck thaaaaat because it was dangerous or something. Or he’s like still pretending to be in a closet, to which I’m like, Bro, that guy Simmons is, like, hanging off of you. What the fuck. Closet door’s knocked down, Bro,” Kai continued. “So they’re here along with the cool guy in lightish-red armor--”

“The pink armor,” South corrected automatically.

“Shhh don’t be rude, I can’t tell the difference,” Kaikaina hushed her. “Anyway, so they’re all here in Blue Base where I’m here to paaaaarty but mostly I want to watch the one Blue guy give birth. I’ve never seen a dude do it before. But now that they’re doing it, I bet you no one’s going to say shit about me getting a seventh abortion.”

“What,” South said before she could catch herself.

“It’s the way dudes work. Totally. Trust me,” Kai said with a flip of her wrist. “And then the doctor guy is totally weird and says he has to give me a physical as soon as he’s done with the medical breakthrough of his lifetime. Whatever that means.”

“Sounds like he wants in your pants,” South replied without a second’s thought.

“That’s what I think which is like... c’mon. Better pickup lines, dude, but eh. I’ll get naked.”

“Why would you need to get naked for a physical?” South demanded.

“Why would I not?” she fired back. “You’re so weird. And thirsty.”

“I’m not--” South snapped her mouth shut before the conversation could carry on further. “It doesn’t matter.”

Because we need to go after the Director. No one’s more responsible for North’s death than him, Theta growled uncharacteristically in her mind.

South felt the rage building within her, but she looked at Kaikaina instead.

She felt the tug of resistance in her mind, but South pushed off the rock and glanced toward Kaikaina. “Okay, I’m curious. Show me this guy giving birth. What’s he going to do? Squeeze it out his dick or...?”

“Cesearean,” Kai answered, beginning to lead South toward the Base.

“What a wimp,” South remarked. “Women have been doing this shit forever.”

“I told you! That’s how dudes are!” Kai laughed, reaching over and grabbing South’s arm as she continued to guide her.

But North-- Theta began to fight back angrily.

We’re going after the Director for me, South informed the AI, grabbing Kai’s arm back as they walked along. North is dead. Doing things for him isn’t going to bring him back. So when we cut the Director’s goddamn throat it’ll be for everything, and that’s what I’m going to do.

Theta’s buzzing in her mind took up a dangerous tempo. When isn’t it about you!?

Clutching Kai tighter, South scowled. This, you little bastard. This is not for me. North wanted us to live. Going after the Director? That’s a good chance of death. So we’re going to give North what he wanted first. Live a little.

Placated, Theta’s humming returned to its normal rhythm.

Inside of the base, South nearly had to do a double take to make certain that they hadn’t somehow ended up back at Red Base since the interiors were absolutely identical in a very real, very haunting sort of way.

If it weren’t for the blue accents and flag, there wouldn’t have been any difference at all.

The orange armored Red who Kaikaina had said was her brother was standing at the center of the flag room with a cigarette between his teeth. He was staring at the flag almost dully.

“Yo, Broooooo!” Kaikaina yelled out, bounding over toward him. “Why aren’t you watching the dude giving birth? Like isn’t it supposed to be amazing or something? Like where is it gonna even come from?”

“Squeeze it out his dick, that’d almost be anatomical justice,” South couldn’t help but add.

Ow, yeesh, Theta muttered.

Oh, like you have a real one, South admonished him.

“Won’t be the biggest thing I’ve seen come out of one,” Kai shrugged.

“What?” her brother said at the same time as South.

“Whatever, it’s not amazing,” her brother said, pulling his cigarette from his mouth. “Amazing is this goddamn thing right here.”

He waved toward the blue flag and forced South and Kaikaina to take more note of it. They watched it flutter slightly, which confused South almost as much as the moon landing footage because there didn’t seem to be a draft in the base.

“That’s not amazing, it’s fucking boring,” Kai groaned.

“No, it’s not,” Grif said, pointing his cigarette toward the flag. “Good men over the years have died over this stupid thing -- died just to stand in this room and try to get it from Blues. Or the other way around.”

South looked between the two simulation troopers quietly. She felt... something at that point. Not guilt, not anything truly personal. But she felt...

Sympathy, Theta offered.

Gross, South replied. My brother just died, what the fuck do I have to sympathize over simulation troopers for? They’re not even smart enough to figure out this whole thing was fake.

Well, neither were Freelancers until the very end, Theta reminded her.

Taking a sharp breath, South pt her hands on her hips and shook her head. It felt like pulling teeth, but she tried all the same. “I’m... sorry. That you lost people over something so stupid as a flag.”

He turned and looked at her utterly bewildered. “What? God, no. Red Team hasn’t lost anyone over the stupid flag.” He threw down his cigarette and stomped it out before grabbing for his helmet. “I mean I’ve lost half my internal organs and Simmons is half a robot, but not even fucking Donut died over the stupid flag and he managed to get the damn thing. ‘Sides, I said good people. That’s obviously not anyone in this canyon.”

South watched as he put his helmet on. “You’re going to make me regret protecting your sister, aren’t you?” she asked plainly.

“Knowing my sister, she’s made headway on that cause already,” Grif shrugged.

Almost immediately, South opened her mouth to defend Kaikaina’s honor when she realized that the younger woman wasn’t even in the room with them anymore. “Dammit,” she hissed before taking off toward the hall.

It took a bit of searching but soon enough South came across Kaikaina walking down the hall humming to herself.

“Earlier when you were getting onto me for not being close enough to bodyguard you,” South said as she caught up to Kai’s side, “generally that’s a two way street.”

“Pfft, I’m in Blue Base now. I’m Blue Safe. Whoohoo! Go Blue!” she said in response. “Hey, where’s the little gray dude over your shoulder? I bet he’d like to see me naked for a physical.”

“I’m here,” Theta announced, popping up over South’s shoulder.

“Off!” South ordered. She glared at Theta until he complied and then she looked back to her charge. “Theta is like a secret weapon. We don’t flaunt him around because that’d ruin the surprise.”

“We as in me?” Kai asked.

“What?” South asked in return.

“You always say we. Are you talking about me? Should I keep Theta a secret too? Like, he’s my secret, too? Which is cool. I’m great at secrets. Except when I accidentally tell them. Which doesn’t happen a lot. Don’t call anybody from high school. They’re fucking liar bitches.”

The realization of the we cut through South. She screwed her eyes shut, hardly listening to Kaikaina’s words as they carried forward.

Live. Survive. Live. Survive. Don’t think about--

“She meant North,” Theta said, appearing over South’s other shoulder, closer to Kai. “Our brother. He... He died.”

Kai put her hands over her chest, letting out a small gasp. “Why didn’t you tell me you lost your brother? I’m so sorry! Losing my brother would be the worst thing that ever happened to me. Even if he’s an annoying bastard and treats me like a baby who hasn’t fucked the whole football team already.” She paused and looked mortified for a moment. “Did he die going after the flag? Did Dex offend you? I’ll go beat him up for you.”

"He didn’t die over a flag,” South said lowly. “He died over something more stupid... He died counting on me.”

Kai looked at South. “That’s not stupid. That’s... I think that’s something brothers and sisters would always be willing to die for. For the brother or sister, I mean.” She hugged herself. “I enlisted because I wanted to see my brother again. He was drafted because he chose to take care of me instead of going to school and so he couldn’t get out of it. And then he sent all his paychecks back to me at home. Because that’s what he does. He takes care of me. And I want to do the same back. Even if it means dying over a stupid flag.”

South stopped, her head was pounding and her vision blurring. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and rested her shoulder against the near hallway wall to keep her balance.

“I wish it were true. I wish siblings were always willing to die for each other,” South said. “Maybe then it would’ve been me instead of him... I always thought, being a twin was... a hard thing. Everyone always finds a way to put you together. Even in the program. It’s like you’re not considered two people. Even when we were kids, our parents dressed us alike, and when we joined p and got sent to the program, they stuck us together. People thought we were special somehow, I suppose. I used to hate that. All I ever wanted was to have my own life. My own respect. And here I am now... just wondering how I’m gonna live without him.” She waved to the base around them. “I don’t even know where I fucking am anymore or what I’m doing. Not except getting back at all the fuckers responsible for this in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Kai said. “And being an extremely shitty pretend bodyguard.”

South looked up to Kaikaina, tears streaming down her face. Kaikaina was already meeting her gaze.

They kept silent for a moment, South feeling like she had gutted herself and left everything bare, right there on the canyon base’s floor.

Then, unexpectedly, she burst out with a laugh, a grin. Even when she covered her mouth she couldn’t help the choking laughter that came out from her.

Joining in the laughter, Kaikaina moved in closer and pulled South into a hug. South didn’t return it, but she continued to laugh.

Laugh until there were blood curdling screams echoing through the base.

Quickly releasing each other, South and Kaikaina looked around for the source of the screaming. South automatically pulled out her sidearm and cocked it, causing Kaikaina to jump back in even more surprise.

“Whoa, did you have that hiding somewhere or were you that happy to hug me?” Kai joked.

“Stop making me laugh,” South snorted.

"Kaikaina!” Grif came running from the flag room only to stumble to a stop just short of the two women and put his hands on his knees. He was gulping down air like it was a new drug. “I thought... whoo! Running... still... sucks... I thought you were.... screaming... I’m gonna die... running... someday... maybe today...”

“Why would I be screaming?” Kaikaina asked with a shrug. “I’ve got a terrible bodyguard taking care of me, Big Bro. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

South couldn’t help but silently agree and holstered her weapon.

“Plus, if anyone’s screaming, it’s probably the dude shoving a baby through his dick,” Kai continued.

“You know I was joking when I mentioned that, right?” South asked.

“No. Dude, I’ve never seen a guy do this before! You can’t joke with me about things like that. Totes thought you were being real,” Kai replied.

“Well, there’s only one thing for us to do,” South said, leading them toward the origin of the screams. “Let’s go and watch this freakshow for ourselves.”

“Fuck yes!” Kai cried out, nearly skipping by South’s side as her brother followed up behind them, still panting and holding his sides like he had pulled something.

“That’s it, Tucker! Just a few more breaths...” some far too calm voice was saying as they rounded the corner into the medical room.

“This is awesome!” Donut cried out.

South wasn’t sure what she was expecting and Theta’s curiosity was definitely getting the better of her at that point. But it became clear that Kaikaina and her brother also didn’t know what to expect because the moment they caught sight of the cesarean being performed with a reptilian headed creature reaching out of a live human, bloody and letting out a long series of terrible noises, the three of them plus Theta gave out a unified scream of horror and backed away before taking off.

The three of them sat on the top of Blue Base, legs hanging over the side, each busily puffing a cigarette. A Red, a Blue, and a Freelancer -- it was the start of a new, terrible bar joke.

“Welp,” Grif said, flicking the butt of his cigarette over the edge. “Never unseeing that.”

“And that’s why I always go with the abortion,” Kai sighed.

“What,” South and Grif echoed.

Theta sat on South’s shoulder, head propped up on his hands. “Wish I could have a cigarette.”

“No you don’t,” South said. “Also, I told you to stop showing yourself to everyone.”

“What? I’m not going to be the weirdest thing Kaikaina’s brother has seen today,” Theta pointed out. “We just saw--”

“We know!” they all yelled at once.

“There you guys are!!! Wanted to let you all know that Tucker’s doing okay! Or at least he’s unconscious and no longer screaming, and the cute doctor says that’s okay!” Donut called out, climbing to the top of the base with a certain amount of pep in his stride. “Grif! You shouldn’t be smoking! It really irritates Simmons that you’re ruining his lungs.”

“Like I give a shit,” Grif replied.

“Ohhh, is Simmons’ first name Richard?” Kai questioned, leaning over South’s lap to get more in her brother’s face.

Donut stopped and tilted his head to the side. “Oh. I don’t know Simmons’ first name. Is it?”

“You know his first name is Dick,” Grif snapped at Donut. “I know you’ve heard me call him that before.”

Holding up his hands, Donut shook his head. “I so did not know! This changes so many conversations we’ve had!”

“What the-- yeah it better!” Grif snapped.

“Not if we go by the letters you sent home it doesn’t,” Kaikaina sang.

“Oh, letters? Do tell!” Donut cried out excitedly.

Theta looked to South before flickering out.

South didn’t have to ask -- she knew what that look meant. Felt what it meant deep within her own bones. She stood up and threw her own cigarette off the side of the base before putting her helmet on.

The bickering simulation troopers all looked to her in surprise.

“What’re you doing South?” Kai asked.

“Remember how my brother’s dead?” she asked lowly, sobering up Grif and Donut rather quickly. “I’m going to go see someone who holds some of the responsibility for that fact. And will probably either accidentally help my former fellow Freelancers or end up getting them all killed. Either way, I figure it’s a hoo-ra I wouldn’t want to miss.”

“Who’s gonna be my fake bodyguard then?” Kai asked, getting to her feet.

“I’d recommend it not being the guy who had an alien rip itself out of his stomach,” South suggested. “Who knows. That tank seems fairly reliable.”

Donut and Grif looked awkwardly at each other.

“Well, I prefer you and I think you going by yourself is dumb,” Kaikaina argued.

“Wouldn’t be the first stupid thing I’ve done,” South joked.

With a bit of a smile, Kai punched South’s shoulder hard. “Well, don’t die. I’d like the honor of being the last stupid thing you do.”

South’s mouth dropped open and she felt her face light up, but her brain -- outside of Theta’s laughter -- had stopped for all intents and purposes. She shook herself from head to toe before walking toward the transporter. “O-okay then.”

Grif just looked back and forth between his sister and South. “What the fuck just happened?”

“I don’t know, but I liked it,” Donut cheered.

#writing #rvb fic #RvB: Recovery None #Agent South #AI: Theta #Kaikaina Grif #Dexter Grif #Franklin Delano Donut #Lavernius Tucker #Frank Doc DuFresne

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duhragonball · 8 years

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (48/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous Chapters conveniently available here

[17 May 236 Before Age. Planet Wist.]

Luffa was a Saiyan woman, twenty-one years of age. Like all pure-blooded Saiyans, she had a prehensile tail covered in brown fur, and dark hair that never grew beyond a certain length. Her own hair was short, barely reaching the back of her neck. Her eyes were dark brown, and her skin was beige. She was sixty-three inches tall, and wore loose yellow pants and a black sleeveless shirt, with matching combat boots and fingerless gloves.

When Luffa was nineteen, she experienced a radical transformation, becoming a Super Saiyan. Though nearly all Saiyans possessed phenomenal strength compared to typical humanoids, Luffa found she could tap into even greater powers. Unleashing these abilities somehow caused all the hair on her body to glow bright yellow, and her eyes to turn bright green. Since discovering this form, Luffa had quickly established herself as the dominant warrior in the galaxy.

Her one weakness, it seemed, was that her transformation had enhanced her lust for combat along with her physical power. Luffa's greatest enemy was boredom. She longed for battles worthy of her might, and when she couldn’t find them, she settled for whatever action she could find. The great irony of this was that this ultimate warrior had become a galactic peacemaker, simply because she had no better option than to declare war on war itself.

But now that had all changed, for Luffa had found a worthy adversary on the far edge of the galaxy. Here, on the Planet Wist, the Shockmaster stood against her. He was a foot taller than she, and nearly three times as massive. On his shoulders was a sleeveless black jacket, and his head was concealed beneath a bizarre silver helmet, which obscured his face with a mask-like caricature of a humanoid countenance. The Shockmaster had his own agenda for the galaxy, and it put himself and Luffa at cross-purposes. She had come to Wist and confronted him.

So far, he appeared to be winning.

"You've lost the war, you know," Luffa said as they faced each other. "You and I can fight all afternoon, but your days of invading Federation member-worlds are done."

None of this particularly mattered to Luffa. She had pledged herself to defend the Federation, an interstellar alliance she herself had founded, and she took some satisfaction in the work, but she intended to fight the Shockmaster regardless of the strategic benefits. Still, she hoped that the outcome of the war mattered to him. She wanted to rattle his cage. Maybe she could goad him into making a mistake, or revealing a weakness or two.

She began to step to the side, moving around him in a wide arc. "The occupation forces you sent to Extraliga are finished. You won't get them back, and if you had any more of them lying around, we'll know how to fight them next time."

He simply stood his ground and watched her. At least, she assumed that he could actually see out of that thing on his head. There were large lens-shaped features on the face of the helmet, but they were the same opaque silver material as the rest of it. Nevertheless, he turned his head as she moved.

"That wormhole you used to get to Extraliga is off-limits, too," she went on. "Nice little shortcut, but the faeries who live there are free now, and we've sealed it off from normal space. You could always take the long way, but from what I gather, that's a trans-galactic trip. It’d take about six weeks for a decent fleet of ships."

No response. Luffa felt a bead of sweat running down the side of her face. She ignored it and continued.

"Of course, you could just hire mercenaries to assemble a fleet in that part of the galaxy," she suggested. "Oh wait, you already tried that trick. Nice while it lasted. My guys were confused for a while. Couldn't figure out where the invasion was coming from until we captured a few and interrogated the crews."

The Shockmaster began rubbing his hands together in what might be interpreted as eager anticipation.

"Oh, and I've been dismantling your whole planet all day today. You won't be raising a fleet of your own for a long time, I think. Most of your military is dead or in hiding. Those 'chiefs of staff' you had? I've already killed two of them, and I'm saving a third for after I'm through with your sorry ass."

She snapped her fingers and shook her head. "Wait, I almost forgot. I brought fifty Extraligan commandos with me on this trip. Guess what they've been up to. Intelligence gathering. While I've been ripping this planet to shreds, they went and hijacked a spaceship and left the planet with as much intel as they could find. Of course, it'll take them six weeks to get back home, but the subspace radio works much faster. They'll be able to tell the Federation exactly where your planet is. Maybe the next invasion comes to your doorstep. What do you think of that?"

"I THINK YOU TALK TOO MUCH."

His low, gravelly voice seemed to come from all around. Before she could react, he was behind her, and as she turned to face him, he was already bringing his hands down to strangle her. Luffa caught them in her own, and their fingers intertwined.

She summoned more of her power as she leaned backward, pulling him forward. For a brief moment, it looked as though they would push against each other in a test of strength, but Luffa didn't want to indulge in such a straightforward display. Better to keep the Shockmaster off balance until she had his full measure. As he fell towards her she kicked at his left kneecap, then released his hands and rolled clear. Once she was fairly certain he wouldn't dodge, she raised her hands for a Galick Gun.

But instead of firing the ki blast, she held off, and waited. He recovered from the knee strike very quickly, as though she had barely hurt him at all.

"WHAT'S WRONG?" the Shockmaster bellowed. "I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO FIGHT!"

She couldn't help but smile. "I'm just trying to decide how to go about it. Any suggestions? Wait, never mind. I've got it."

She widened her stance and slowly raised her right hand, and with a flick of her wrist she brought her index and middle finger straight up. In the same instant, an explosion erupted from the ground all around the Shockmaster, leaving him nowhere to go.

When the dust settled, he seemed shaken, but unhurt. Luffa repeated the attack. Then she did it again. And again.

"ENOUGH!" the Shockmaster shouted. Whether the assault was finally taking a toll on him or simply trying his patience, he managed to leap into the air just as the next explosion began. He swung out one of his hands to return fire, but Luffa was suddenly gone. Before he could contemplate the meaning of this, her boot heel slammed into the small of his back.

Somehow, he managed to reach behind and grab her ankle just as she tried to withdraw her foot. With a savage yank, he swung her around and brought his other fist down to strike her. But when Luffa's body came into view, he saw her hands raised in a now-familiar pose. She smirked and said two words.

"Galick Gun."

A burst of violet energy engulfed the Shockmaster at pointblank range.

She could feel him pushing back, resisting the force of the blast, but it was still shoving him away, up and into the sky. Luffa braced herself and summoned more power to intensify the attack, slowly descending until her feet touched the ground.

She was confident that she could send him into space with enough effort. The cold vacuum might finish the job for her. If it didn't kill the Shockmaster, it might soften him up some. Luffa hoped it was the latter. He was too much fun to finish off so quickly. As exhilarated as she was to have caught him in such a trap, she didn't want to end the fight here, with such a simple finish. The only way the Shockmaster could hope to escape the Galick Gun now was to return fire with a ki blast of comparable strength to push back in the other direction, only he didn't dare attempt such a thing, since he might accidentally miss Luffa and end up destroying his own planet.

Above, the Shockmaster continued to resist. She called up more power to counter this. It was perfect. The Super Saiyan form was like a rampaging thing inside of herself, constantly screaming for release. It was a wellspring of power, and now she could finally harness it, release it, without fear of the consequences.

Luffa hoped her mother was watching from hell. She wasn't sure if she would approve of the yellow-haired monstrosity her daughter had become, but at least there would be no room to criticize Luffa's Galick Gun technique anymore. Briefly, she regretted not killing her father with this move. Kandai was still roaming around the planet somewhere. Maybe she should use it on him. Surely he could sense what she was doing right now. It was good that she hadn't finished him off yet. Even if he was marked for death, it comforted her to know that at least one other Saiyan was present to witness this display of strength.

That made her think of Zatte, and how the Dorlun woman wouldn't really be able to appreciate any of this. There was something appealing about being with an alien. The extreme cultural differences gave you a whole new perspective on your own culture. Mundane little things like proper tail grooming and Galick Gunning your enemies into orbit took on a whole new significance. To Zatte, all this power was just insurance. Being a Super Saiyan meant that Luffa was invincible, which afforded her the freedom to act in ways a more vulnerable person couldn't.

It was a very calculated outlook on life, managing risks and rewards like line items on a financial ledger. What made it even more bizarre was that Luffa had known Zatte and other Dorluns to be capable of great bravery; they just didn't enjoy being brave, the way a Saiyan would. Somehow, that made their courage even more admirable.

Luffa scolded herself for letting her mind wander like this during a battle. The mental image of Zatte triple-checking a plasma rifle was a difficult one to banish. It was love, all right. Luffa had been pretty sure for a while, but this settled it. She wondered how Dorluns ever figured these things out, or any other life forms that didn't like to fight.

Then she was struck by lightning.

There had been no warning. One moment she was gradually forcing the Shockmaster out of the atmosphere, and in the next she was overcome with searing pain and convulsions. When it was over, Luffa dropped to one knee and grabbed her shoulders. She could already sense the Shockmaster heading back down. Whatever had just happened, it must have been his doing. But why hadn't he used a technique like that earlier? Or was it a desperation move, a last-ditch effort to save himself from suffocation? She leaped up to her feet and did a few backflips, mostly to make sure her body still worked. There were still a few seconds before he made it back down, and she decided to make them count...

*******

"Welcome back," Luffa called out as the Shockmaster touched down. "That was some technique you used. Guess I finally struck a nerve."

She bent her knees and raised her hands in a defensive stance. "Ready for another round?"

He simply raised his hand and pointed all of his fingers at her. Lightning leaped from his fingertips and arced towards her. Luffa dodged the bolts, but only just.

"Cute," she said. "It's painful, at least when it connects, but it'll take a lot more than that to kill me."

"I DON'T KILL, LUFFA," The Shockmaster growled. "I WON'T SINK TO YOUR LEVEL."

This genuinely confused her. "Excuse me?"

"I KNOW ABOUT YOUR KIND. THE SAIYANS. HAH. REAVERS AND MERCENARIES SLAUGHTERING ANYONE FOR CASH OR THRILLS. MUCH HAS CHANGED SINCE I'VE BEEN SEALED AWAY, BUT YOUR PITIFUL RACE HAS STAYED THE SAME."

"If it ain't broke," Luffa said. "I suppose you're going to tell me you're some wonderful hero now? How you're somehow above all this petty violence, even though you invaded a planet that was no threat to you?"

"I HAVE NOTHING TO PROVE TO A MURDERER LIKE YOU."

"The hell you don't," Luffa snarled. She held out her hand and beckoned him to come at her. "Let's go, I'm not through with you!"

He pounced at her, propelled by his vast energy, and she was amazed by his speed. Was he getting faster? She managed to block his punches as he closed in on her, but he was leaving her very little margin for error. She began to float back in the opposite direction, giving up ground and forcing him to move forward to press his advantage.

And then the ghosts showed up.

"Bleahhhh!" said one ghost.

"Heh-heh-heh-heh-haha-hoo!" said the other ghost.

They were white blobs of ki energy given form, and while they were mostly shapeless, they bore heads and arms that resembled their creator. She had made them while the Shockmaster was still returning from the stratosphere, and she had sent them flying off into the distance to hide until she was ready to deploy them. Now, the Shockmaster found himself bedeviled on three fronts. He could continue pressing the attack on Luffa herself, but doing so left him wide open to the ghosts, who flew around him in circles, taunting him with their eerie voices.

"I know, I know," Luffa said with a smirk. "It's kind of childish, but when you're as strong as I am, even kid stuff becomes dangerous."

With that, she avoided another punch and raised her fingers again, causing a new explosion to go off right under the Shockmaster's position. As he was caught up in the blast, she gestured for the ghosts to crash into him, and they exploded on contact. Luffa came to a stop and admired the fireworks for only an instant, then charged headlong into it, delivering a flurry of punches to the Shockmaster's gut.

She started to laugh with joy. Then he grabbed her by the hair and smashed his knee into her face. Before she could retaliate, he slammed her face-first into the ground.

She was still laughing as she rolled over and rose to her feet.

"You're amazing!" she howled. "If I had pulled that stunt on anyone else, they'd be dead! You might even survive the--whulp!"

He grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and spun around, swinging her directly into the path of a third ghost that had been coming at him from behind. She had hoped to distract him, but the first two ghosts had put him on his guard. The third one wailed like a banshee as it tried to slow its approach, but it was too late. Luffa's knee scraped its ephemeral surface, and this was more than enough to make the ghost explode in her face.

When the dust settled, Luffa wasn't laughing anymore.

"Do that one more time!" she growled. "Grab me one more time and swing me around like a damn sack of flour! Come on! Come on! Do it!"

She rushed the Shockmaster, who readied himself, but instead of attacking, she vanished, and reappeared to his left. She seemed to throw a kick, but deliberately missed and lunged for his right leg instead. Then she hauled him into the air and began swinging him around like a throwing hammer.

"You like that? Huh?!" she yelled. "Well how about this?!"

She swung him over her head and brought him crashing to the ground, and then she followed him, driving her knees into his back.

"That's what I thought, you bloated jackass!" she shouted. "I oughta--"

She had reached down to take hold of his helmet, hoping to yank it off of his head, but in the instant she touched it, she was overcome by another electrical jolt that knocked her away.

"Oh... you're good," Luffa muttered. She was livid, but she began taking deep breaths to calm down. "I haven't had to work this hard in a while."

He was already back on his feet. By now, Luffa was beginning to notice that nothing she had done had really seemed to hurt him. Before, she had been too busy savoring the experience to care. The greater his endurance, the more fun she could have fighting him, after all. Only it had been several minutes, and that was enough to make her suspect he was trying to drag this out on purpose. She summoned more power from within herself and made plans for another attack.

In a flash, she was high above him, with her hand raised just above and to the side of her head. She swung her arm out and cast a burst of light from her index and middle fingers, and sent it straight after the Shockmaster. Without waiting for it to connect, she circled around, waiting for an opening to tackle him if he managed to avoid the blast.

Instead, the Shockmaster simply stared up at her and waited for the blast to hit him. Now Luffa was becoming flustered. Surely he hadn't been toying with her this entire time! He couldn't possibly be strong enough to--!

And then suddenly he was right in front of her, throwing punches in rapid succession. Luffa managed to block or avoid them, except for the very last one, which landed right in her abdomen. Luffa found herself unable to breathe for a moment, and the Shockmaster followed up with a kick that sent her slamming into the ground like a pile of bricks.

She pulled herself together quickly, though not was quickly as she would have preferred. The reality of her situation had begun to sink in. She had underestimated the Shockmaster, and he had been holding back for most of the fight. Maybe he was still holding back. She had to put him on the defensive, and she had to do it now.

Luffa balled her fists and summoned more power. The Shockmaster was looming over her again, and he landed another one of his electrical jolt attacks. It sent her flying backward, but she managed to snap out of it.

Luffa summoned more of her power. This time the Shockmaster launched himself at her and delivered a flying dropkick. She avoided this, but not the chop to her back that he followed up with. The smell of highland grass in her face was becoming all too familiar.

Luffa summoned more of her power. The Shockmaster didn't even come at her this time. He simply raised his own ki and released it in an explosion effect that radiated in all directions. Luffa couldn't avoid it, so she didn't bother trying. She simply crossed her arms over her face and deflected as much of it as she could.

Luffa summoned more of her power... and then she realized that she couldn't.

It was like an ice cold knife in her back. She had just gotten used to the idea that she could always go to the well one more time if she needed to, but now the well had run dry. It was a level she had never even bothered to use, since there had never been any need for it. All of a sudden, it didn't seem so impressive.

The Shockmaster certainly wasn't impressed. He reached for Luffa and grabbed her in a bearhug, pinning her arms to her sides. She would have powered out of it, but that was going to be impossible now. Suddenly, she was the underdog all over again. She was eighteen years old, dreaming about strength that might as well have been impossible.

One of her ribs buckled under the pressure, and she was twelve years old, maybe eleven, hunting dinosaurs on her own for the first time, trying to prove to her father that she was worthy of his respect, but mostly trying not to die of exposure in the middle of the wilderness. She looked down at her predicament, searching desperately for some way out of this hold, and she happened to catch sight of her tail.

That had been her sole hope all those years ago. In spite of her weakness, she could look at her tail and know that she was one of the mighty Saiyans, able to stand up and face any odds with courage and pride. It glowed bright yellow, but the truth hadn't changed.

She was nineteen years old, looking at a derelict statue of Chanisp on Planet Bigreen. The image of his green eyes dared her to match his accomplishments, and she boasted that she would surpass him. Back then, she had no idea what she had become, but in that moment of clarity, she decided that she was the best.

She was in the here and now, and she would be damned if the next Super Saiyan was going to remember Old Luffa getting crushed to death by some oaf in a stupid helmet. She pulled back her head and steeled herself for what was coming next.

The Shockmaster was stronger, but he had erred in using that strength to apply a hold. Regardless of power, every hold had a counter, and Luffa knew at least as much about them as he did. Optimally, the best counter to a bearhug was to attack the assailant's abdomen, since he couldn't use his arms to defend himself. Luffa was pretty sure that wouldn't work here, but there was more than one way to escape. Some counters were more desperate than others.

With an anguished cry, she managed to dislocate her left arm and briefly slackened the Shockmaster's grip. Before he could readjust, she flew up and clear of his arms, firing ki blasts with her right hand all the way up. She paused briefly to pop her left shoulder back into place, knowing that she would be vulnerable to another attack. As expected, the Shockmaster was already above her, and he kicked her in the back to send her back down to the ground.

It was all over. At this rate, he would kill her. Luffa had a few more tricks left, but at this point she was putting everything she had into narrow escapes and half-baked defenses. Even if she could take back the initiative, she clearly lacked the power to hurt the Shockmaster. There was nothing left to do.

The depressing implications of defeat began to run through her mind. Left unchecked, the Shockmaster might eventually renew his invasion of Extraliga. Kandai would escape her wrath. Zatte would be devastated. And there didn't seem to be much Luffa could do about any of it. It was real. It was really happening, whether she wanted it or not.

Some small part of her wanted to lay there and wait for the end. It was inevitable, right? Better to get it over with. Kandai had suffered a thousand deaths in his cowardice, after all. Zatte was a survivor, and she would move on. The Federation might fall to the Shockmaster, but that was the march of history, wasn't it? She wondered if the other Super Saiyans would heckle her when she got to hell. Maybe they'd be impressed by her efforts. Maybe it was silly to imagine hell as some sort of private club where you hung out with famous dead people. Maybe she was thinking about this because she'd become hysterical from her impending doom.

She rolled onto her side and found herself in a sort of fetal position. Her tail brushed against her leg, and she noticed it out of the corner of her eye.

When she saw it, she clenched her teeth and forced herself to stand up.

NEXT: The High Road

#dragon ball #fanfiction #super saiyan #luffa #lssjluffafic #the shockmaster #wist

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beaniegender · 8 years

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Fandom Fic Rec Days - My Personal Favorites Fic Rec List!

In honor of #ficrecdays (happening Feb. 10th, 11th, and 12th), and my stupidly long ao3 bookmarks page which is a pain to go through, I want to make this list of the best of the the best of my favorite fics - the ones that make me gasp or laugh or cry and just generally ache at their beauty each time I read them. I hope you’ll read and enjoy them too! I encourage you to try something even outside a fandom you know well because all of these works are great fiction in their own right.

This list includes a total of 24 fics or series from nine fandoms: James Bond (3 works), The Martian (1 work), Marvel which is mostly Captain America (5 works/series), Soccer RPF which is all FC Barcelona RPF (4 works/series), Star Trek (2 works), Star Wars (1 work), Supernatural (2 works/series), True Blood (1 work), and The West Wing (5 works).

Some of these fics are already wildly popular, but in order to promote less popular fic a bit more, within a fandom works are sorted from least to most ao3 kudos. Read on and discover my absolute favorite fanfics!

James Bond

Search and Seizure by @kryptaria00q and @stephrc79 (16670 words, James Bond/Q/Alec Trevelyan) - After two assassination attempts on MI6 executives, the British Secret Service now requires self-defence training for all high level employees. Bond and Alec have taken it upon themselves to help keep their lover safe, no matter how much Q might hate them for it. Too bad they never seem to be able to stay on track. (a.k.a. frisking porn with plot)

basically trust porn along with being real porn. everyone’s POV gets shown off and it’s just so much fun watching these boys interact when they so obviously care for each other!

Treasons, Traitors, and Treachery by kryptaria and @zooeyscigar (63245 words, James Bond/Q) - All James Bond wanted was a quiet holiday on his luxury motoryacht on the Costa del Sol. Time to recuperate and think about his future with MI6. But his plans get hijacked when a traitor to the crown returns, bringing news of an even greater threat to MI6. And the traitor isn’t working alone. Thankfully, neither is James.

every single character in here is written flawlessly, and the OC is one of the BEST OCs to ever OC. There’s sass and hilarity, believably written government intrigue, and a very realistic level of depth in all the characters.

so you were never a saint. by @paperclipbitch (12319 words, gen) - “I think Bond’s trying to be your friend,” Eve tells him. “…well,” Q says slowly, “this is a new and disturbing development.”

the asexual!Q epic that defined a lot of my Q headcanons. also a lot of my MONEYPENNY IS AMAZING headcanons! it’s sort of an ensemble fic and sort of a character study and it just makes me like MI6 so much.

The Martian

You Know You Have a Permanent Piece of My Medium-Sized American Heart by tricatular [on tumblr but I’m not able to tag them, sorry!] (9151 words, gen) - “Hey Hermes!” The ambient suspicion level in the Rec ratcheted up significantly. Kapoor was disturbingly cheerful. “We’ve sent you some mission updates in the data dump, but Mitch and I wanted to personally let you know—” Mitch visibly rolled his eyes in the background. “—That thanks to some…strong suggestions from the White House, and on Annie and Director Sanders’ recommendation, we’ve started releasing Watney’s Mars logs to the public.”

deftly mixes standard narration, transcripts of recordings, and social media posts to show what Mark’s journal back to Earth would have been like both for him and for everyone who cared about his story (ie. the whole planet).

Marvel / Captain America

Walking Far From Home by TaleWorthTelling (6222 words, various Sam-centric pairings) - Sam’s relationship with birds starts early and inexplicably.

basically, Sam Wilson’s whole life. as the author’s note says, “Sam is the only person with his shit together, but he got there the hard way.” and then we’re treated to 6000 words of what that path was like, including stellar input from Sam’s OC family and the familiar MCU favorites. and Sam can talk to birds!

The Murder Ballads by BetteNoire (160839 words, 3 works, Steve/Bucky) - Something wicked is coming for Steve Rogers. Luckily for him, something even more wicked stands in its way: the unrepentant, unbroken Bucky Barnes. A murder-mystery/action thriller with violence, magic, and several big MCU guest stars.

like most CA fans I’ve read a stupid amount of post-winter soldier fic, so the first praise for this series is that it has a completely original take on that subject. and that take - the plot complexity, the multi-layered characterizations, the sequel - made me fall in love with Bucky all over again and permanently changed the way I think of him.

your blue-eyed boys by Feather (123233 words, 4 works, Steve/Bucky with sides of Pepper/Tony, Bruce/Betty, and Clint/Natasha) - Steve has no plan. Not because he hadn’t tried to make one. He’d tried to make lots of plans. Plan, adapt, plan again, tried to think of every contingency. And then he’d thrown them away, because there wasn’t much point. What could you plan for? He couldn’t guess the possible contingencies, the situations, the potentials. And he sure as sure hadn’t figured on what’s happened now, on coming back to his place and finding Bucky here. He hadn’t even hoped for that. He hadn’t realized he could. [post-Winter Soldier recovery fic]

if you’d like a slightly more typically-plotted approach to your post-WS fic than “The Murder Ballads” you absolutely can’t go wrong with “your blue-eyed boys”. it’s the most realistic version of Bucky’s recovery that I can imagine - heartbreaking and sickening and real. and the love between Steve and him and the team as a whole is obvious. DON’T MISS the associated verse, which is 450000 words (and growing) of shortfic in the same timeline, and which incidentally has the best OCs in the entire fandom.

Hollow Your Bones Like a Bird’s by @scifigrl47 (95514 words, Clint/Phil) - In the wake of the Chitauri invasion, Clint Barton wakes up in a world that he very nearly had a hand in destroying. And confronting a loss he might not be able to cope with. The Avengers always needed something to avenge, but once the crisis is past, what keeps them together?

I have yet to see a better representation of grief in fanfic, and that’s only maybe half of Clint’s problems in this fic. maybe you’ve noticed I like realism when fic deals with hard topics, and this shies away from nothing - and Clint will treat you to excellent analyses of his friends, as well as many bird facts, along the way!

Ain’t No Grave (Can Keep My Body Down) by spitandvinegar [on tumblr but I’m not able to tag them, sorry!] (107076 words, Steve/Bucky) - It’s six in the morning, and Steve is heading out on a run when he nearly trips over a bouquet of sunflowers on the front steps of his brownstone. For a second paranoia takes over, and he kicks the flowers a little, waiting for them to explode. They don’t. They also came with a card, which he picks up. The front of the card has a tasteful picture of the Brooklyn bridge at sunset. It’s very nice and sedate, like the kind of card you would buy to give to your boss. On the inside someone has written a short message in big, shaky block letters. I AM SORRY FOR SHOOTING YOU. Steve sits down hard on the steps.

ok yet more wonderfully detailed post-ws Bucky trying to recover fic, except in this one Bucky is homeless and a drug addict and ADOPTS THE BEST OCS with the BEST POVS EVER, oh my GOD. also Steve is smart and kind, Sam is long-suffering (and smart and kind), and the whole thing is hilarious.

Soccer / FC Barcelona RPF

only the children (know what they’re looking for) by therestisdetail (7253 words, gen) - I drew a picture of him, later, but I shall not show it to you for it is a sad demonstration of what will happen if you stop drawing when you are six, and certainly much less charming than its model. He wore a shirt that was too large and had soft dark eyes hiding beneath dark, indecisive hair; it did not seem to know if it was short or long, or what shape it wanted to be. He was very pale, very slight, had no shoes, and held a battered football beneath one arm with an air of pride. (Le Petit Prince redone feat. FC Barcelona)

a young Andrés Iniesta meets an even younger Leo Messi, and they quite simply tear my heart in two. no knowledge of The Little Prince required, but the fic is just as understatedly beautiful as the original.

Like a Hand Grenade by @meretricula (20430 words, 2 works, Cesc/Messi) - Cesc Fabregas is born a girl. She still loves football.

full disclosure, I do not care about Cesc Fabregas. I didn’t care about Cesc Fabregas even before his career got, frankly, weird and dispiriting. but BY GOD these works make me care about genderbent!Cesc and everything she could have been. the sequel is particularly nice for some cameos from other well-loved players!

Go Gentle by @ferritin4 (20977 words, eventually Xaviesta) - Things change, but only some things. In which Barça is indeed més que un club, no one stays on top forever, and it all comes back to Andrés in the end.

hands down my favorite football rpf. uses the A/B/O trope and the idea of pack dynamics to tell the story of the last decade of Barcelona football, which makes a hell of a lot of sense, and although Andrés is quietly the star, the different POVs let a lot of people shine.

It’s Going to Take a Lot to Drag Me Away from You by meretricula (31296 words, 10 works, Xaviesta, Fabregas/Messi/Pique, and Messilla) - Everybody knows Barcelona’s midfielders are psychic anyway. (Soulbonding AU)

try to tell me that a soulbonding AU isn’t the most logical thing in the world for Xavi and Iniesta, just try to tell me that! there’s also a good look at how the politics of this system could get messy quick, which, let’s be real, just makes sense for barça-centric fic.

Star Trek

How Many Roads? or, 27 Times Jim Kirk hit on Nyota Uhura by Deastar (8806 words, Uhura/Spock) - After the bar fight, Nyota thinks to herself that if this is what being hit on by Jim Kirk leads to, she’s very glad she’s never going to have to see him again.

Uhura and Kirk’s relationship goes from the dumpster fire it was in Iowa to the professional respect we get throughout the movies, but we never really see how it happens. this fic shows all of that and much more, and oh my god, I just like these characters so much.

Counteractive Measures by rikke_leonhart (9159 words, loosely Kirk/Spock) - The thing is – giving Jim Kirk a dare will never ever work. “Enlist,” she repeats to herself as Pike’s back disappears out the door. She snorts. It’s one of those things that just keep getting funnier.

Jim Kirk’s whole life - if Jim Kirk were a girl, and slightly less cliche about her motivations and psychology. and if Spock and especially McCoy were just as awesome as ever, because of course they are!

Star Wars

The Last Poem of Jedha by @schweinsty (15486 words, gen) - How Bodhi Rook temporarily misplaced the two most important things in the galaxy, and how he found them again (with a little help).

literally every fic on this list is amazing, I promise, but this one is my favorite out of them all. if you’ve ever cared about star wars for five seconds, please read this. the world-building, the characterizations, the plot structure, the family and team relationships: all stellar!

Supernatural

In His Image by @whitmerule (153067 words, Gabriel/Sam and Castiel/Dean) - Kali can breathe life back into a corpse, but what exactly is Gabriel now? Gabriel flits around various centuries trying to work that out, Dean has another powered-down angel and a little brother to look out for, Castiel has forgotten how to trust, and someone keeps sending Sam annoying little notes on his laptop. Oh, and Bobby would like to remind you all that there’s an Apocalypse still going on. Covers season 5 from Gabriel’s death to the finale.

half season 5 AU, half historical fiction, it feels like one story thread should distract from the other but instead it all works together to make the definitive Gabriel-centric story!

Sammyverse by shangrilada (249230 words, 42 works, gen) - It’s an AU, but not a deep one, until season 4 or thereabouts, where it starts to get kind of weird. Basically, Sam has really hideous asthma, and the boys are both pretty excellent at dealing with it and each other. They’re [not] all from Dean’s POV, and even though I’m branching now into later stuff, I’m going to keep doing pre-Stanford–Season 2 for a long time because that makes me happy. Honestly it’s a lot of H/C porn of the boys just being friendly and affectionate towards each other, because that’s how I like them. It is, to put it simply, gen. To put it more honestly, it’s as fucked up as I see it in canon and not a bit more or less. You can read into it as much or as little as you like.

it’s just like the show, except Sam is chronically ill and also the boys like each other. based on the show you might think the boys already like each other, but my friends, this ‘verse will show you just how much was missing. Dean’s internal monologues are things of beauty, and I love how much Jess is featured in the Stanford-era fics. (note: this master list includes most but not all of the fic in the verse, so if you’d like the rest be sure to check the author’s page or ask me for links!)

True Blood

We Who Are Alive And Remain by @branwyn-says (10448 words, Sookie/Eric) - Terrified by changes she witnesses in herself, Sookie hides from the world and everyone in it. When Eric finds out her secret, she will either find that he is worthy of her trust-or she’ll be dead.

the non-linear timeline makes this fic shine, and from the very beginning the plot is intriguing. before the plot is resolved we get to see a lot about who Sookie is who Eric is to her, and the dynamics between Sookie and nearly everyone in her life.

The West Wing

We Don’t Notice Time Pass by pene (1304 words, gen) - “I’d no idea you’d even met her.” It’s friendship and it’s women.

focusing on female friendship within The West Wing is annoyingly difficult, but this story focuses on what relationships among women can be. Mrs. Landingham acts as a bit of a mentor to Ainsley, and Ainsley’s relationship with her childhood best friend is achingly and heartwarmingly true to life.

Define Your Terms by candle_beck (4443 words, Josh/Sam) - It’s very complicated inside Josh’s head.

Josh is manic and about five conversations ahead of Sam. it works out because these two idiots care about each other very, very strongly. I love Josh’s mental voice in this one!

Vidui by Marguerite (7358 words, gen) - In the fall of 2001, Toby went to shul. In past years he had carried sins enough to confess, sins both petty and great, transgressions against God’s ordinances and those of men.

a beautiful meditation on Toby’s relationship with the people he works with/calls his family, through an explicitly Jewish lense. Toby is the person, and the Jew, that I wish I could be <3

The Thinner the Skin by Jane St Clair (2149 words, Josh/Sam) - Of couches and expensive suits, with some mention of madness.

if you’re going to write a Josh/Sam post-Noel fic, this is unquestionably the way to do it! nothing is shied away from but there’s all the best kind of comfort that h/c can offer, and nice backstory details that make the characters seem realer.

highways and byways and roads in between by @greatestheights (10456 words, Josh/Donna) - “Maps are for losers. Maps are for people with no sense of adventure, like you, and…I don’t know. Toby, probably.” Josh, Donna, the open road, five states, and some of the things they said while they were driving.

Josh and Donna and, just, everything that they are (that is, a well-meaning idiot and better than you, respectively), with a healthy dose of Donna/career. everyone is characterized spotlessly, the dialogue is episode-caliber, and there’s fun local geography/culture!

#ficrecdays #fanfic #fic rec #tricatular #spitandvinegar #tagging authors who i can't @ in the post why does tumblr always do this #if you know any of the other authors are on tumblr tag them for me or let me know please?#james bond #the martian #marvel #fcb #star trek #star wars #r1 #supernatural #true blood #the west wing #*whispering* read these fics read these fics read these fics they're my entire heart in fiction form

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