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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 months

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The Dangers of Hope Ch. 5

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 5,402

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Sorry, this chapter is a bit longer than usual, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. 😘

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Over the next two weeks, Dean did whatever he could to avoid being around Y/N. He was determined that the morning at the river was simply going to be a weird one off. It was some kind of reaction to Y/N’s unfamiliar presence. Her emotions and her rose-colored outlook on the world had contaminated him somehow.

He didn’t know why, but there was something about her that always made him question his decisions, constantly rework his plans. She just brought something out in him, so he stayed the hell away from her as much as possible.

He knew she’d set up the school and begun teaching. But there again, she’d made him change his plans. The plan had been to use the sheds behind the cabin for storage; that was the whole reason for building them!

But apparently Y/N had worked her magic with Brandy and before he knew it the sensible, practical woman had him convinced to let Y/N and the kids take up one of their very limited storage spaces, just to sit around doing algebra and reading poetry - or whatever she was teaching them.

It was ridiculous.

But even though he avoided her during the day, there was no turning off his brain at night, when he closed his eyes and visions of her soft curves and the memory of her silky skin beneath his fingers plagued his thoughts. He told himself to smarten up, that he had so many more important things to be thinking about.

He decided he just needed sex; it had been too long. So one night he showed up in Risa’s tent after midnight and she opened her arms to him the way she always did.

But as he kissed her and moved his hands over her body, her gentle sighs and soft moans weren’t doing what he needed them to, and he realized he was being an asshole trying to replace one woman with another. Risa was a good soldier and she’d been a soft place for him to land too many times to just use her as a distraction.

So he got up and left, giving her a lame excuse, “I forgot I have to be up early tomorrow to…go over things with Johnston.” He tried not to notice Risa’s frown. He couldn't tell if she was mad or sad, and he didn't really want to stick around to find out.

As the days moved on, he realized it was next to impossible to completely avoid Y/N, whether day or night. Because no matter how he tried to ignore her, he saw her influence everywhere. He could sense a shift in the air, he swore people were smiling more and every once in a while, he could hear kids laughing loudly.

That was a foreign sound nowadays, and it unnerved him. And smiling seemed foolish. What was there to smile about? Being happy just invited tragedy. He knew in the old days he would have been called a pessimist. But he was simply being a realist as he'd always been. He called things as they were, and he wasn't about to let a pretty smile and a bouncy attitude change that.

One evening, about a month after Y/N arrived at the camp, Dean was headed to the storage shed to take a thorough inventory before they left the next day on a raid - one of their last before the snows came in mid November. He knew they were gonna need more propane than what they had stored in order to run the generator over the winter. The generator ran the fridge and freezer where they kept their food stored.

It could also power the electricity in the big cabin for a little while if needed. There had been nearly a week last winter that had been so piercingly cold that they’d all needed to jam themselves into the cabin and run the electric heat as much as possible. It had simply been too cold for the little camp stoves in the tents; the wood-burning stoves just couldn’t generate enough heat to combat the intense cold that seeped through the thick canvas walls.

So their generator had saved them, and it ran on propane, which meant they needed more than enough to last through another possible cold snap.

Dean had deliberately waited to start the task until it was nearly sundown since the school would be empty by then and he could avoid running into the teacher that worked there.

But as he approached the small building he could see a wavering light in the window - a lamp moving towards him. Before he could turn and leave (he wasn’t going to call it running away) Y/N stepped out into the semi-darkness and gasped as she saw him standing there.

She put the hand not holding the kerosene lamp to her chest. “Oh my lord!” She breathed out raggedly. “You scared me half to death.” But she was chuckling as she said it and walked closer to him.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I uh…I thought you’d be gone.” He knew he sounded slightly accusatory. “Why are you still here? Haven’t the kids been gone for hours?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I came back to put up the gift we got from Tom Richardson.” She waved him towards the building behind her. “You should come see the school.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I’ve got…I have to -”

She cut him off with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?” She added a bright, imploring smile and Dean shook his head. Why was he even bothering to say no to her at this point? He gestured for her to lead the way into the little building and he followed at a distance.

They walked in and she set the lamp on the small table in the corner and turned it up full so that it completely lit up the tiny room. She held her arms out to the sides, showing off her little schoolroom with pride.

“What do you think?”

He shook his head. “It’s uh…pretty empty.” He said looking around.

Y/N shrugged and seemed a little deflated. “It’s a work in progress.”

Dean grunted his acknowledgement and continued his sweep of the room. On the floor against the back, Northern, wall were a couple of piles of wool blankets, and right above them was a mural of multicolored leaves stuck to the wall.

When she saw him looking at it and frowning, Y/N explained. “I got the kids to find a bunch of pretty, fallen leaves, and then we used some tree sap as glue to stick them up. I got to teach them a little bit about trees and ecosystems, and we also made something pretty to hang on the wall.”

He nodded at the blankets. “Is that where the kids sit?”

“Yeah.” She said with another shrug. “We’re a little packed in, but it keeps us warm. The blankets just take the chill out of the floor and make it a bit softer to sit on.”

Dean nodded absently and looked left, his eye catching on the only other object in the room. It was a paper map hanging on the western wall, held in place by two small nails.

Dean frowned again. “Is that a map of America?”

Y/N nodded excitedly. “Yeah, that was the gift from Tom Richardson. It was so kind of him. His son, Jonah is a sweet little guy, but I guess he’s been pretty quiet over the last year or so. He lost his mom just before he and Tom got to Chitaqua?” She said, clearly using the words as a question to see if he knew who she was talking about.

Dean nodded, a vague recollection coming to his mind of a big burly guy and a scrawny little kid. He remembered thinking the guy would be a hard worker, and the kid probably wasn’t gonna make it. He’d looked pretty sick.

Y/N continued. “Well, I guess since he started school he’s been talking more in the evenings, even asking Tom questions about The Knights of the Round Table. I’ve been sharing some of the legends with them this week. So, Tom was grateful and as a thank you, he gave us this map that he’d kept tucked away in his backpack all this time. Said it made him feel peaceful to look at it and remember better times. But he thought we could use it more.”

She smiled wistfully and gazed at the slightly ratty map.

“Why?” Dean asked with a slight jolt in his gut. He waved at the map. “It’s not like this anymore.”

Y/N nodded and lowered her gaze to the ground. “Yeah, I know, but the general shape of the country is still the same, and I can use it as half geography, half history.”

When she looked back up at him, her face was set in lines of disappointment. She waved her hand to encompass the whole hundred and fifty square feet. “You don’t like it?” She asked with a weak chuckle.

Dean shrugged. “No it's, I mean, it’s fine. You know, work in progress, like you said.”

Y/N nodded and smiled, looking a little bolstered. “Yeah, slow but sure. And you know,” her smile turned shy, “I’ve really wanted to thank you for giving up the space for the school, I know this wasn’t what the shed was earmarked for.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Brandy made sense. Can’t have the kids wandering around outside after the cold comes.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve wanted to thank you, but every time I’ve looked for you, I seem to have just missed you.”

Dean scowled defensively. “Just busy.”

Y/N nodded.

“Well look,” Dean said, backing away, “I gotta get to…stuff.” He shook his head. “I mean, we’re leaving on a raid tomorrow and I gotta prepare for it.”

“Oh, be careful.” Y/N said, biting her lip in concern.

It was far too hard for Dean to rip his eyes away from where her teeth sunk into the satiny sweep of her bottom lip. But he jerked his head up and then spun away as he answered her. “Always am.”

***

The raid was successful; in fact it was one of the most successful ones they’d ever had. They’d traveled all the way to St. Louis, hoping to find some gas stations there that hadn’t been picked clean. But they had no luck. Since going home empty-handed wasn’t an option, they went North to Springfield and hit the jackpot.

They found an old Costco on the outskirts of the city that had barely been hit. They filled and loaded up enough propane tanks to see them through the winter and then some.

They also loaded up as much food as they could, and even found some usable meds left in the pharmacy there. They grabbed clothes and kitchen things like plates and pots, utensils, also managing to find a few things that had become rare and quite precious, like eyeglasses and sunglasses. They also found spare tires and car parts, and a few simple pieces of practical furniture. They took as much as they could load into the back of two trucks and a Jeep.

Dean packed up one more big box, setting it on top of the others; it was just something he thought might come in handy. He refused to think too long about why he’d gathered together the things in the box.

They made it back to camp less than two days after they left, a record for a raid. They usually took a week or more because they had to scavenge through a bunch of different cities, and fight off masses of Croats. But this time, they didn't see any Croats at all, and they'd scored an incredible haul quickly, which meant that, barring some kind of catastrophe, they wouldn't have to go out again until the snow melted.

They pulled into the camp around noon and Dean spent a few hours helping to unload the trucks and organize where everything went. When the campers saw the piles of booty in the trucks, people actually started clapping. An air of joviality pervaded as they all worked together to put things away until the next day. At which point they'd begin accounting for it all, sharing what was needed immediately, and then safely storing away the rest.

Y/N and her students left their little schoolroom to come help as well and the kid’s eyes were wide and excited, looking at everything that had been brought back as though it was Christmas Eve.

When everything was unloaded, Dean grabbed the box he’d put aside and brought it to Y/N who’d returned to the school to drop off the two folding chairs she’d claimed for the classroom.

He knocked on the open door, grateful for the hard wood beneath his knuckles this time. Y/N turned to face him and her eyes were almost as bright and excited as the kids’.

“Hi!” She said enthusiastically. “Wow, you guys sure brought home the bacon on this raid!”

Dean shook his head. “No bacon. It was fairly rancid.”

Y/N chuckled lightly and scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, wise decision to leave that behind.”

Dean nodded and set the big box on the plywood floor with a heavy thump. “This is for you. For the school.” He amended.

Y/N looked a bit dumbfounded for a moment and her eyes got even rounder before she dropped to her knees and pulled open the flaps of the box.

When she saw what was inside her gasp was deep and her hands flew to her mouth. She looked up at him in complete shock before reaching reverently into the box to take out one of the books that sat inside.

“Books.” She whispered, as she stared at the paperback in her hands. She reached into the box again and pulled out another book and then another and another until her arms were full of them.

She looked up at him, tears falling and her gaze rapturous. “Oh my god, Dean.”

Dean felt his face flush and he looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just figured the classroom could use ‘em and they were just sitting there on the shelves. There’s a bunch of kids books underneath,” he said pointing inside the box. “And paper and pencils and some crayons, a few coloring books. There weren’t many of them so-”

He was interrupted as Y/N dropped the books back into the box and launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. He stood stock still for a minute before he patted her back awkwardly and dropped his arms back to his side.

She pulled back and brushed away her happy tears, sniffling loudly. “Sorry. I just…” She knelt down again and picked up another book, holding it tight to her chest. She shook her head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed books. It’s been years since I’ve even seen one let alone had the chance to read one.”

She reached in for one of the children’s books and laughed. “Oh my gosh, the kids are gonna be ecstatic.”

Dean shrugged, thoroughly embarrassed by Y/N’s joy and gratitude. He cleared his throat before speaking. “There’s a limited supply of paper and pencils, and I have no idea how long it will be before we find more, if we ever do, so…”

He trailed off and Y/N put the books back into the box and folded the flaps closed again. “So, we’ll be sure to write very tiny, erase a lot, and wear the pencils down to little nubs.” She said as she stood and bent to heft the box up from the floor. Dean stepped forward to grab it from her as she staggered slightly beneath its weight.

“You’ll break your back.” Dean barked at her as he reached for the box.

But she just shook her head and turned away with the box still in her arms. “N’ah I’m stronger than I look.” She said, huffing and puffing as she dropped it onto the table.

Dean shook his head. Yeah, I bet you are. He thought.

After a moment Y/N turned and walked slowly back towards him. “So, I can’t exactly buy you dinner as a thank you. But if you bring your rations over to our tent, I can cook them all up for us.”

She smiled at him, friendly and sweet, but Dean was backing away. “No, that’s not necessary.”

“I know it isn’t, but it will make me feel good to do this one small favor for you in return for this amazingness.” She said with a wave towards the box.

Dean planned to say no, had it on the tip of his tongue but when he opened his mouth what came out was, “Okay.”

So barely an hour later he found himself sitting at her table with dinner laid out in front of him. It was a sufficiently celebratory meal of salted venison from an eight point buck the camp hunters had taken down in early summer, boiled potatoes, and a can of green beans that was older than Emma.

It was the best meal Dean had eaten in a long time.

After the food was finished and the dishes were washed, Y/N made them a cup of coffee and he sat drinking it as she settled Emma into bed with a kiss. His stomach was full of decent food, the coffee smelled old but still strong, and the sound of Y/N’s soft voice as she tucked her daughter in, was incredibly soothing. He found himself relaxing into his chair in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. His muscles lost some of their rigidity and he breathed out a long sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath for too long.

After a few minutes Y/N came back to the table and sat down with her own soft exhale. She took a sip of her coffee and then looked at Dean over the rim of her tin cup. “You know, I don’t think you really understand what you’ve done here.”

Dean cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, questioning her. She smiled and set down her cup, shifting slightly in her chair.

“Since all of this started, we’ve been on the move, Emma and I. In the beginning, when Emma was still a baby, I’d come across different groups of people and we’d travel together for a while or we’d manage to hole up somewhere for the winter and wait out the cold together. But inevitably the groups always fell away; sometimes we’d just decide to go in separate directions, but sometimes animosity or greed would take over and violence would erupt. People would fight over who was in charge and they’d fight over resources.” Y/N shook her head. “It almost always ended up a disaster.”

She shrugged. “So after a while, I just lit out on my own with Emma. It was scary as hell, of course - no back up, no partners, all on my own with a four year old. But it also meant no one stealing my stuff, or throwing me to the wolves at the first sign of trouble.”

She took another sip of coffee and Dean wondered at the shadows in her usually bright eyes. What stories in her past had created them?

Her voice was soft when she continued. “It’s been incredibly hard and there’s been,” her eyelashes fluttered and closed, “there's been a lot of bad.”

She set down her cup and sat back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers like she was scratching out the images behind her eyelids.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were soft and warm. “So, to come here, to see what you’ve accomplished in just a few years?” Her voice was full of wonder. “Dean, it’s like a miracle. I mean you’ve made it safe here, at least a hell of a lot safer than anywhere else out there - there are guards protecting us! People work together, contribute their skills and strengths for the benefit of the group as well as themselves.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen anything like it in a very long time. What you’ve created here is an oasis.”

Dean snorted at that. “Oasis?” He asked incredulously. Her praise and wonderment made him feel an itchy kind of awkwardness. He didn’t deserve it.

But Y/N was nodding solemnly. “Yes. It’s a safe haven in a world filled with evil. What would you call it?”

Dean took a gulp of coffee and then licked his lips, looking at her for a moment before speaking. “Y/N this is only an oasis in the sense that it’s a mirage in a desert; it’s an illusion. We’re managing to get by through lucky choices and good timing. We push through from day to day, but I’m telling you this whole place could fall apart in an instant. One long, bad, winter, or one coordinated attack from another camp or a pack of Croats, and we’re done.”

He paused to try and let that sink in before continuing. “And the survivors here work together because it’s beneficial to them. But if things get desperate again,” he looked at her pointedly, “don’t think for one second that they'll hesitate to throw you to the wolves like all the others.” He shrugged. “It’s human nature, survival of the fittest, and anyone who thinks otherwise is gonna get trampled.”

He said it as a warning, still determined to dislodge the Pollyanna ideal of good and virtuous humanity from her mind.

But Y/N just smiled and leaned across the table to squeeze his hand. “Guess we’ll see. But in the meantime, you should be proud. No matter what happens, you’ve done good.”

Dean swallowed down the rest of his coffee in one gulp and stood up, pulling his hand away from her warm touch. He was desperate to get away from the softness and understanding in her gaze. He thanked her for cooking dinner and left quickly, promising himself as he walked back to his tent that he wasn’t going to do that again.

But as with most things to do with Y/N that decision didn’t last long, and soon enough that one evening turned into a bit of a ritual. Every few days or so Dean would show up with some of his rations and Y/N would combine them with what they had, and they’d all eat together at their tiny table.

Every time he left her tent, he told himself he’d had his last meal there with Y/N and Emma. Yet within a few days, he’d be back again. He told himself it was just something to break the monotony of camp life, just something a little different from the ordinary.

But the truth was he was beginning to crave the evenings spent across from Y/N, listening to her rattle on about her students and their achievements, or else answering her seemingly endless questions about the camp and how it had come to be. He even enjoyed listening to her talk to Emma, telling her stories before she tucked her in for the night.

Once the little girl was asleep, Dean usually hightailed it out of there, because without the kid as a buffer it became much harder to ignore Y/N’s inviting lips and tempting curves.

But one night, three weeks after returning home from the raid, Y/N followed him outside as he abruptly left the tent.

“Dean.” She called after him.

The sun had set almost an hour before and the night was dark and cold; Dean returned to her side and admonished her. “It’s freezing out here, go back inside.”

Y/N just rubbed her hands up and down her arms and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

He shook his head at her stubbornness, and then waited silently. When she didn’t say anything right away he spread his arms wide.

“What?” He asked impatiently.

“I just…” Y/N stuttered for a moment. “I just wanted to say that I really like when you come for dinner.”

Dean clenched his jaw as she looked up at him with heat in her gaze, an invitation in her eyes, plain as day. He told himself to walk away but instead, he raised his hand to trail his fingers down her cheek.

“You should go inside.” He warned her again, even as he lowered his head towards her. “S’cold.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m very warm.” She smiled and licked her lips and it was his undoing.

He yanked her up against him and crushed her lips with his own. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, inhaling her sweet scent and hardening at the way she clutched the front of his jacket and whimpered softly. He moved his hands so that one clutched at her waist and the other one grabbed hold of the back of her head so he could keep her pressed to him tightly.

He didn't know how long he would have continued kissing her, or whether he might have taken things even further. But luckily there was a loud noise of something crashing somewhere in camp, followed by laughter.

The sound was like a bucket of cold water being poured on him and Dean ripped himself away from Y/N's mouth. They were both breathing heavily, panting really.

“Fuck.” Dean swore roughly before he turned abruptly and left. He fully admitted to himself that this time, he was definitely running away.

***

Dean barely slept and woke up the next day berating himself for the night before. For fuck’s sake he’d been making out with Y/N with her kid just on the other side of a canvas wall - kissing her in the wide open, where any other camper might have walked by. He didn’t need things to be more complicated than they were already.

As the morning wore on, he made up his mind to talk to Y/N that very afternoon. He'd just tell her straight out that what happened between them just couldn't happen again. It was only going to confuse things and make everything harder than it needed to be.

He nodded; he could do this. He was practical and he didn't hem and haw or tiptoe around things. He'd just tell her straight out how things were going to be.

He knew she'd be in the big cabin as the school day ended, so he walked over and stepped inside the door, hoping she'd be almost done for the day.

Ever since he brought her the books, she'd been reading to the kids at the end of every school day. Parents had started swinging by the school, ostensibly to meet their kids, but really, they wanted to watch their kids' faces and listen to their giggles as Y/N read the stories in funny voices and occasionally got the kids to join her in acting out silliness from the books.

But the crowd of parents and kids had gotten a bit too big for the tiny schoolroom, so on the last day of every week, Y/N had taken to reading to the kids and parents together in the big cabin. The adults usually sat on the floor behind the kids, keeping their hands busy with mending clothes or knitting, or else they stood at a table and worked on something like repairing holes in tents or making snares for the hunters. The work allowed them to justify their enjoyment of the stories.

As Dean walked inside now, Y/N was finishing up the storybook in her hand. He could see it was The Paper Bag Princess and Y/N was on the last page.

“‘Ronald’, said Elizabeth, ‘your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat.” Y/N read aloud in Elizabeth’s decisive voice.

“You look like a real prince. But you,” Y/N paused for effect, “are a bum.’”

All the kids were giggling as she read the last line.

“They didn't get married after all.”

The kids clapped and even the parents were chuckling at the way the paper bag princess had put the snooty prince in his place.

“I love that story!!” A little redheaded girl in the front gushed.

“It's my mommy's favorite story.” Emma said loudly. “Right Mommy?”

Y/N nodded. “When I was your age for sure.”

Dean pushed away from the wall he was leaning on, trying to signal Y/N so she'd hurry up and finish. But the little girl in the front demanded her full attention as she bounced up to lean against Y/N's knees where she sat in the chair.

“Cause your mommy read it to you?”

Dean was seriously considering ordering everyone out. He wanted to get this over with.

But Y/N's next words stopped him dead in his tracks.

She was shaking her head as she tucked the little girl's red hair behind her ear. “No, my mommy passed away a long time ago when I was just a baby. So she never really got to read me stories.”

Y/N kept talking, but Dean only heard a hot, pulsing, rushing sound in his ears. A million thoughts were slamming through his mind at once as he felt a cold shiver run through him.

He yelled over the sound of the people around him beginning to chatter and get ready to leave.

“How?”

Y/N looked up at his bellow, her face shocked. “What?”

Dean was aware of his surroundings only just enough to brusquely order everyone out of the cabin.

“Now!” He barked and the mood in the room shifted quickly as parents grabbed up their children and gave The Boss a wide berth as his eyes burned at Y/N like green fire.

Everyone disappeared and it was just Y/N, Dean and Emma left.

Dean felt his heart hammering in his chest as he took a step back from where she stood.

Y/N's face was completely confused and clearly perplexed. “Dean what-”

He cut her off. “How?” He bellowed again before swallowing and asking in a slightly quieter tone. “How did your mother die when you were a baby?”

Y/N shook her head. “Why? What are you-”

“Answer me.” Dean's voice wasn't loud, but his words were clipped and he could hear the steel behind his words, feel the cold seeping into his bones as the tumblers in his mind fell into place, opening the lock concealing the reason behind Y/N’s miraculous survival of the virus.

Y/N blinked rapidly for a moment before exhaling slowly. “It was a - a fire. Some kind of electrical short or something.”

“In your nursery.” Dean said softly.

Y/N shrugged, her face scrunched up in confusion. “I'm not sure. My dad didn't really like to talk about it.”

As he stood staring at the woman with the bloodshot eyes, a moment from so long ago, once again from that first time they'd faced the Croatoan virus, materialized in his memory.

Again his brother's face bloomed in his mind, and he heard his own voice speaking.

“I swear I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean why here, why now?”

And Sam's bewildered reply. “And why was I immune?”

Well now he knew why his brother had been immune. Because Yellow Eyes had wanted him to be, to make him a better soldier, a better, more powerful psychic to lead his demon army. And of course, he’d needed to be sure Lucifer's true vessel was strong and able enough to withstand the demon germ warfare he planned to release upon the world as a way to kickstart the apocalypse.

Dean stared at Y/N, angry beyond belief. Angry at her and what she really was, angry at himself for taking so long to figure it out and for falling for her game, and unbelievably angry at the universe for proving once again that it was laughing at him.

His voice was ice when he spoke. “What kind of psychic are you? What can you do?” He shook his head. “What have you done already?"

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magicalgirlsirin · 3 months

Note

hi rly enjoyed ur post on elysian realm! ik ur a new fan (i am too) but i heard that before retcon, elysia was a lot more morally gray. would you happen to know how exactly?? im rly curious bc i think it would be a severe improvement obviously. we deserve complex women who do wrongs

So when I say retcon in relation to the elyrealm arc it's less so "things they changed because of the story evolving and wanting to expand previously established events" and more "things they straight up forgot about in service of making Elysia a herrscher". It's not like hi3 is a stranger to retcons though?

For example, Durandal being the "original" Kiana is a retcon. The fact that our Kiana was a clone remained the same, but it's clear from older story stuff (iirc it's Everlasting Memory/Theresa's chronicle set?; second eruption manga doesn't focus on the Kiana part) that Durandal wasn't originally there. Otto refers to Kiana as K-423, and that Theresa needs to retrieve her, which implies that Theresa knows it's not Siegfried and Cecilia's kid, but her distress remains the same. The later game retcon by Thus Spoke Apocalypse is that OG!Kiana and Siegfried were going to go retrieve K-423, but OG!Kiana ended up injured and so Siegfried only left with K-423. And if you're confused then so am I because the details don't really super line up with the presentation, but it's like, fine, because at the end of the day the current writing intention and trajectory is for Durandal and Kiana to be sisters, and to both be Siegfried's daughters.

Anyways, for Elysia, a lot of her retcons occur in a very rapid pace from the first realm chapter set to Elysium Everlasting. Like I mentioned in my last post, the herrscher reveal is nonsense just going off of basic information like the fact she received MANTIS surgery like all the other Flame Chasers. However, there are other plot threads that are completely dropped for the sake of making Elysia a very special good girl who you should love because she's so nice and never did anything bad.

[About Betrayal 1 - Chapter 2]

[About Betrayal 2 - Chapter 2]

Elysia the traitor plot is something I was, well not hopeful for (a friend had already warned me that the game wouldn't do anything interesting with it] but I still ended up mulling it over a lot because it was such an interesting hinge piece for her initial presentation.

What stands out to me is the phrasing. Kevin says she never endangered humanity even if she was a traitor. Kevin says that Elysia made a decision. This implies agency, like Elysia was actively choosing to do something dangerous for the sake of the Flame Chasers. However, if Elysia was a herrscher from the beginning, then none of this makes sense. She doesn't choose to be a herrscher if she was one from the beginning, so why even make it seem like her betrayal was her choice at all?

[Traitor - Chapter 1]

It doesn't stop there though. Mobius' active disdain implies that whatever choice Elysia made, it was enough to make Mobius of all people consider her a lost cause. Mobius, who body mods and injects honkai energy into anyone with a pulse (hyperbole) to try and make humanity last just the slightest bit longer.

[Traitor - Chapter 1]

Mobius wants us to doubt Elysia's intentions. If you go through all their shared information, you'll find that the worst Elysia really does is just... coerce Mobi to wear pink dresses, and while that is obnoxious, it wouldn't warrant utter contempt for Elysia as a person.

There's actually a lot of stray text that implies there's something wrong about Elysia's existence, which I guess in generous terms could be interpreted as setup for the herrscher reveal? But it just feels like it's just there to add to the mystery that won't go anywhere.

[The Blind Spot - Recollection]

This right here nags at me. Deeply so. Elysia isn't so much a character as much as she is just a concept, the idea of a story that could be told. Not even in the canon-compliant weird endgame hook meta-textual breakout in Transcending Finality about the power of stories... Although, there's a way to introduce it here and tie it to Elysia to give some semblance of connectivity.

I went this long without actually giving my thoughts on how to make Elysia's writing good though. Disclaimer for clarity sake I know not everyone will agree with the changes I want to make and I'm also not claiming to be a more skilled writer than anyone in the hi3 team, they're all people with enough talent to be employed by the company.

That out of the way.

This isn't so much about making Elysia morally grey as much as it is about giving her an emotional core, because right now she's pretty hollow. Rather than a pristine girl who never did anything wrong, I'd rather cast her as a romantic, tragic heroine who would move heaven and fate just to seem noble.

Elysia was born human. Maybe she loved stories, and how they transported her to far off places, far far far away from the tiny town she was growing up in. When she was old enough, she traveled the world. Honkai descends. Because she was a globe trotter she ended up connected to many people, and was given the chance to join the MOTH organization. She gets MANTIS surgery. As the number of soon-to-be Flame Chasers grow, discussion begins about if the strength of the soldiers is enough.

'Maybe, if I had power comparable to a herrscher, we could fight with less casualties.'

She doesn't say this out loud, of course. It's a dangerous thought, a line that shouldn't be crossed. But she's curious. She breaks into Mobius' lab [Miss Pink Spy - Pristine Memory] to find the information she wants. Mobius figures out her intentions and warns Elysia off. It's not even in consideration, so keep whatever plan you have in mind off the table before you do something irreversible.

Mobius thought that Elysia gave up on the plan after the seventh erruption. The haunted look behind Kevin's eyes, the sadness creasing Elysia's face, all of it makes it seem like a simple consideration forgotten by the sands of time.

Elysia doesn't have a discipline. She told Dr. Mei it wasn't needed since her combat performance was well above standard margins anyways. (She is on par with Kevin in strength, after all.) At least, we all thought she didn't. A deal is made with Aponia.

Aponia, Aponia, apostle of fate, I offer you my 'humanity' to become a 'story'.

Elysia cannot receive any more disciplines. The target has to be "human". Elysia as a story, unchanging, pristine, capable of remaining as she is without blemish, can reach out and become a herrscher while remaining herself. She's desperate. She wants to help. She reaches into the deep, the start of the universe, and gathers the power. She names it Origin, since it's something she found at the source.

She's a herrscher.

Herrschers are an enemy of humanity.

Kevin runs her through with Shamash.

Elysia is still herself though, talking like she would as usual.

-Oh Kevin, I wanted to know if your tears would freeze, but I was hoping it wouldn't be like this. They're so warm, though. Thank you for crying for me.

-I see no herrscher here, just... the flame chaser, bearing the signet of ego.

The Elysian Realm keeps a secret. Aponia keeps it, the fact that Elysia gave up her humanity. The final banquet? A polite way to refer to Elysia's own demise.

It's sad, isn't it? That strength she wanted to give fell right through her fingers. Her own undoing, the desperate plan of a foolish girl who wanted to be a hero, but only ending up as a villain to oppose. It's so much more meaningful, then, that Elysia's gift, the power of sapience, is kept on to the next cycle of humanity. Held again, the power of ego, of humans, to someone with a kind heart to move beyond the past she's trapped in. Thank you, Raiden Mei, for carrying on the ideals of the thirteen trailblazers, the moths who chase the flame.

so anyways yeah i think elysia couldve been interesting whos to say

#dazzling nova #honkai impact 3rd #raiden mei #kevin kaslana #hi3 elysia #elysian realm #bianka ataegina #kiana kaslana

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heather-ouo · 2 years

Text

Honkai&oc x (step) sibling! Reader ( Headcanon)

Kiana Kaslana addition

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things to remind

(f/m) - favourite manga

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[ Kiana Kaslana ]

_ after been rescued by Siegfried

When K-423 was taken into the family you were confused and asked Siegfried where’s Kiana, he didn’t have the guts to tell you the fact when the plane exploded they were separated from Kiana.

K-423 is dumbfounded to watch the youngest as they run around the room crying for their real sibling instead of the clone.

It took three years for you to accept the clone but you never called her by Kiana, instead is “ Onee-san ” and the twins start to wander around the world after Siegfried left them due to the unknown.

So after some years the twins enter a school called “ Chabi academy ” and become friends with a girl named Mei saving her

from the rooftop. The two of you protected Mei from all the trouble like two Knights protecting their princess.

You find it odd how Kiana has such a weird tendency towards Mei like when she takes out one of Mei’s panties whenever she is gone for groceries since Kiana invited her to live with you two, but hey Kiana has a way to zip your mouth by giving you (f/m).

——— lost control

When Kiana lost her control over the herrscher inside her, you and Himeko were the ones that stopped her. It caused a life for a life from Kiana’s point of view, Himeko is alive but she went into a coma due to overuse of Honkai and you?

Kiana watches in despair at your cracked body and fainted Himeko falls into the ocean as she faints due to the injection, Theresa immediately sends out Valkyries to find your body in the sea after she found Himeko floating on water near the beach and Kiana fainted on the beachside, but you were nowhere to be seen.

Unfortunately they only find your weapon and two blurry family photographs: two white haired adults with a white haired twins holding each other's hand, the other one is a white haired male kneed down on the snow with two white haired girls one of the twins has bandage over her right eye.

Mei did her best to cheer Kiana up with her favorite food in which it didn’t work out, she locked herself in your room. Kiana remembered you said something about going to your room if she ever felt upset or felt like a danger to the others while you were gone, she found a box with “ Onee-San only! >:( ” some letters for her and a book full of photographs of the family including Kiana.

Dear, Onee big si Kiana or whoever is reading this

You probably find this while searching in my room while I'm out huh?

Maybe I told you where I hid it, or someone else found it and gave it to you.

Either way I have a feeling I should write this just in case.

I… have accepted you as my older sister a long time ago but.. it feels odd to call someone who has the same face as older sister, i have a name in mind but our stupid father decided to give her name to you.

It feels rude not calling your name but the name i always wanna call you is “ Diana ” only a letter different but is the best i could save for older sister if we could find her.

Diana.. you are more than a clone at this point we have already accepted you as our family member, that herrscher in your body.. let's say in the odd way… mom tried to adopt her and turns out not good, if you accidentally follow Auntie Theresa into “ that ” basement Istrapto lur ( rest is erased out)

That girl Mei.. She could be a great wife and I don't have to worry about you poisoning someone or yourself with your cooking. I wish you good luck getting her hands on marriage! You have my blessing and dad’s (Ps. Don't you think i didn’t know about it you secretly took pictures of Mei >:) )

Anyway, don't forget to drink some water and eat healthier!

Don’t miss me too much~

Ich☆liebe☆dich~

love, (y/n) Kaslana :D

——— becoming HoF

Bronya, Fu hua and Kiana step into the theater of Domination again due to Honkai reaction rises in the same spot, diving into the deep Puppets, the memory she hate to see, and you.. you sitting in the giant Mechanical hand of the Herrscher dressed in dark brown and golden clothes stares blankly at her, the sky blue no long shines replace with dull blue and the same cracks on you body is still there.

In the final battle you were placed safely in cover while Kiana gave her last strike and defeated The Herrscher of Dominance in the meantime she became The Herrscher of Flamescion.

You are in a vegetative state yet Kiana holds you close to her afraid if she lets go you will fade to dust.

Despite being in a vegetative state tears spill out like rain drops on Kiana’s shoulder letting the older know you are alive.

. . .

. .

“ Diana onee-San! Wake up! Sister in law Is cooking your favorite food today! ”

“ i told you you can still call me Mei..”

“ Mei-senpai then. ”

“ Oi (Y/n)! Only i can call Mei as Mei-senpai! ”

“ YOU ARE MARRIED TO HER! IS MY TURN TO CALL MEI LIKE THAT! ”

“ YOU WANNA GO?! ”

Mei have to stop the twin who’s pulling each weapons out before they flip the roof again.

——————————————————————————————————

Masterlist

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I swear to god the crossroad near my house is cursed

It’s the fourth crush this year

——————

tagging people ( permission asked :D )

@azukaaa

And that other person i try to tag

( IT WONT COME UP)

#honkai impact x reader #honkai headcanons #honkai x reader #Kiana x child! Reader #honkai fanfics #kiana x reader

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writing-good-vibes · 3 months

Text

another lonely valentine's day

💗 happy valentine's day !! 💗 what better way to celebrate than to make our favourite babygirl suffer? this takes place in an au where the accident never happened, and corey is still working towards his college dreams by mowing lawns, having affairs and babysitting.

WARNING for corey cunningham x roger allen relationship, age difference, infidelity, unhealthy relationship dynamics, smut (non-penetrative and oral sex), angst from a guy who is upset that his married boyfriend doesn't love him, some mildly stalkerish behaviour, and some arguable hurt/comfort. 4.5K word count.

🎀 very cute dividers by @/gigittamic 🎀

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)

"Corey?"

Corey sighs and checks the time. It had only been ten minutes since he put Jeremy to bed.

"Corey?!" Jeremy calls again, louder this time, his voice high and lifting at the end of his name. It grates on Corey's nerves.

"What is it now, Jeremy?"

"I'm thirsty!"

"You've just had a glass of milk."

"I want another one!"

They had a deal -- since Jeremy had gotten in so much trouble for his silly prank last Halloween and Corey had very generously done some self-serving damage control -- that Corey would let Jeremy do whatever he wanted (within some reason, as negotiable on the night, but usually involving too much energy for Corey's liking), and stay up as late as he wanted after he went to bed, in exchange for leaving Corey alone for the rest of the night. And if he didn't, Corey would tell Mr Allen just how much of a little shit Jeremy had been for him. It was a system that worked, even if it meant telling a couple of white lies about the evening's activities.

Jeremy was always a brat, it must have been coded directly into his DNA, but he'd been extra irritating before going to bed tonight. He tended to talk Corey's ear off anyway, asking personal questions that Corey would always lie in response to whether he strictly speaking needed to or not, and tonight he had extra ammunition.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Why not? It's because you're so ugly, isn't it."

"No, I just don't have one. I could if I wanted to."

"No you couldn't. Girls don't like boys who are ugly and poor. That's why you're bossing me around on Valentine's Day."

The back of Corey's neck itched. Sure, that's why he was spending his Valentine's Day babysitting the brattiest kid he'd ever met. Because no one wants to go out with him. Not because Jeremy's dad says "Jump," and Corey asks "How high?"

He shuts Jeremy up by letting him watch a playthrough on youtube of some horror videogame that one of Corey's friends back in high school would talk about nonstop. Turns out the game is way less scary when some hunk just talks over it, and although some of the music starts to freak him out a little, Corey surprises himself when he laughs along with Jeremy at most of the scares, even at the rabbit.

After traipsing back upstairs with another glass of milk, warm this time, Corey leaves Jeremy with a warning not to bother him again. Our deal, remember?

"What are you doing on Valentine's day?"

"Nothing," Corey replies, much too quickly. He can hear Mr Allen stifle a chuckle on the other end of the phone. Corey's cheeks burn, "Um, I mean, I don't have any plans, yet." Yet. As if they're lining up round the block to take Corey out and he just hasn't decided who's worth his time. "Why?"

"Well, Theresa and I were wondering if you'd be able to babysit Jeremy for a few hours?"

Corey bites his lips so hard he can taste blood. He soothes it with his tongue, "Sure, no problem." He kicks himself later for being such a sucker.

Mrs Allen is flustered when he arrives, putting the final touches of lipstick and perfume on while she explains the usual ground rules. Corey knows the drill. She looks beautiful, with her hair loose and curly around her shoulders and red flowers on her dress. He tries to imagine his own momma getting dressed up for a date, but he struggles to remember Momma and Ronald ever going anywhere without him. They hadn't even had a honeymoon.

Corey hovers awkwardly, trying to keep out of the way as Mrs Allen buzzes around, from the mirror to the coat stand by the door. While she puts her coat on, Corey's eyes wander as Mr Allen comes downstairs in a pressed suit. He waves at the older man, who gives him a wink that dangerously toes the line of 'friendly', before he disappears towards the kitchen.

"Oh!" Mrs Allen starts, before lowering her voice. "There's a box of chocolates in the kitchen for you, Corey. Roger put them on top of the fridge so Jeremy wouldn't see them; a little treat for you after he goes to bed."

Corey checks the time again. He hasn't heard a peep from Jeremy for a while, which is a good sign.

But the TV isn't holding his attention tonight like it normally does, and even though the Allens always tell him he can use their Netflix, he just can't settle on a movie.

Instead he scrolls through Roger's profile for a while, looking at his watch list and what he's been currently watching, what's been recommended to him and his most popular categories. Corey makes mental notes of where their tastes are similar and where they differ, thinks of how he can subtly integrate all of this into a conversation, to show just how interesting he is, how compatible they are.

His rumbling stomach puts an end to his media-stalking for now. Momma had made meatloaf for dinner, as grainy and bland as always, and Corey hadn't been able to stomach much of it. Not with the butterflies fluttering in his gut as he watched the clock, desperate to get out of the house a soon as possible tonight.

He lets a movie start playing, some 90's thriller than everyone in his American Lit. class used to rave about, before pulling himself off the couch and wandering into the kitchen.

The Allens' fridge is always fully stocked. Fruit and vegetables in the crisper, health foods that Corey's never even heard of before, branded candy and juice and condiments fill the door, cuts of meat that they probably actually knew how to cook instead of turning them to rubber or relying on boxes of lean cuisine. They even have an ice maker. There's a couple of bottles of Heineken -- because Roger only drinks Heineken in the house -- at the very front. It feels like a trick, Corey takes one anyway.

On top of the fridge, amongst juice boxes and tin that could be cookies but Corey guesses might be their sewing kit, is a red, heart-shaped box of chocolates. Just like Mrs Allen promised. Corey holds it in his hands, rubs his thumb against the satiny pink ribbon that wraps around it.

In middle school, Corey had gotten a Valentine's candygram one year. He walked into homeroom and found the pink paper heart and a cherry flavoured dumdum sat conspicuously on his desk.

There was a chorus of hushed giggles from behind him. Over his shoulder he sees Kelly and her friends, whispering. Whispering made Corey nervous. Then, Kelly waves at him shyly, a knowing smile on her face. He waved back, face burning.

He ate the lollipop over lunch, and folded the pink paper heart and put it in his pocket, carried it around with him all week. Sometimes he'd take it out to look at it, reading the message over and over and over again -- Be my Valentine?

Momma found the heart when she collected his laundry at the end of the week, emptying out his pockets onto the kitchen table, picking up the pink paper heart with her probing fingers.

Corey didn't hear the end of it for weeks.

There's a gift tag pre-attached at the bow on his Valentine's chocolates and Corey flips it open, expecting a list of the candies that are inside, but that isn't it. It's a message, handwritten in black biro in neat print-capitals. The words start to swim in Corey's vision, merging into an inky pool until he pushes his glasses up to wipe at his eyes, trying to hide his tears from an invisible audience. He isn't fooling anyone, because his lip starts wobbling instead.

He brings the candy back into the living room with him, along with his beer and sits criss-crossed on the couch, then rips the ribbon off in one go.

Corey sinks half the box before he can stop himself.

The rest he tries to savour, rolling each chocolate in his mouth, letting them melt on his tongue until he can figure out the flavoured centre while he watches his movie. The truffles are his favourites, then the pralines, followed by caramels, vanilla cream and pecan clusters, then finally the strawberry ones come last.

Between eating, he drinks his beer like a palate cleanser, finishing it only to go get the other bottle from the fridge. Two beers down, Corey can feel the buzz under his skin, in his tear-pink cheeks, and the relief of tension leaving his unsettled self.

If he takes the candy box home, Momma would ask too many questions that he didn't want to answer -- that he didn't even want to think about -- so he throws the empty tray in the trash can in the Allens' kitchen and chews a stick of bubblegum to cover the alcohol on his breath. It wasn't fool proof, but it was the most he could do.

Upstairs, Corey listens for movement from Jeremy's room. The hallway is dark, lit only by the lamps downstairs glowing up through the spiral of the staircase. Corey circles the warm light, never quite letting it catch him, as he dips into Jeremey's room to turn his TV off, then continues on to the master bedroom.

It's dark in there too, as Corey stands in the doorway. The bed is made neatly, sheets tucked cleanly under the mattress but rumpled in places where someone had sat down to pull on a stocking or tie a shoelace. He looks around familiarly, at the contemporary beige art on the walls and at the framed family pictures on the dresser, goes through the jackets and dresses that line the closet, and the messy draws full of almost designer sweaters and workout clothes and underwear. Mrs Allen's expensive lotion sits on the nightstand, next to where Corey always discards his glasses.

Laying in their bed, on Mr Allen's side, Corey looks up into the darkness. His cheeks are wet and getting wetter, and he rolls onto his front, muffles his sniffling in Mr Allen's pillow and breathing deeply the faint, shouldn't-be-comforting scent of the older man's cologne. Dark and woody, but classic in a way that compliments the rich floral perfume Corey always smells on Mrs Allen's pillow.

Part of him hopes Roger will know, hopes he'll feel the dampness there on his pillow while he tries to sleep, hopes he'll catch the taste of salt, and know exactly what he'd driven Corey to.

It's long-past midnight by the time Mr and Mrs Allen get home.

Corey hovers awkwardly by the door while Mrs Allen kicks out of her heels, hangs her coat on the stand, her conversation slower now as she thanks him again for babysitting. Corey preferred her like this, when she no longer had to worry about making their 7:30 reservation, or whether Jeremy was ready for bed before they left. When she isn't so tense, it made it a lot harder for Corey to interpret her tension as something else, something worse.

She counts his money out for him, but as he zips his coat up and prepares to cycle back home in the cold, Mr Allen stops him.

"Hold on, Corey, I'll give you a ride." The first words he'd spoken directly to Corey all night.

"Oh, no," Corey insists, hesitating anyway. "It's okay, really. I don't want to --"

"It's no trouble. We wouldn't want you out alone at this time. Unless you've got a secret black belt you haven't mentioned?"

Corey laughs, his real boyish laugh that Mr Allen likes so much.

Mrs Allen leans up, whispers something in her husbands ear, a perfectly French-manicured hand patting his chest once. Corey averts his eyes.

Then, Corey and Mr Allen are stood outside in the biting February air.

"Did you enjoy your night?" Corey asks as they pull out of the driveway. He rubs his cold hands together in his lap.

Roger turns the heater on high. "We did, thanks."

"What was the restaurant like?" He doesn't normally ask questions, doesn't normally like to know the answers, but he's feeling just a little vindictive tonight. Curious, too.

Roger catches his eye through the rear-view mirror. He smirks. "It was nice. We've been wanting to try it out for a while, actually. We don't go out as much as we should anymore."

"I just watched a movie," Corey says with a shrug, like it's no big deal. Like it's how he was going to be spending his Valentine's day anyway. "One that my friends at college always recommend, but I never get time to watch movies. Momma -- my mom -- she's always so picky about movies." Corey can hear himself start to ramble, clutching at the straws of interest. "And Jeremy was okay tonight," he lies, then changes his mind. "Well, he said I don't have a girlfriend because I'm ugly. But he didn't get up after he went to bed."

Roger sighs, "Ignore him, you know what he's like. Theresa coddles him, but he's a little terror sometimes, same as any other boy. And besides, you know that's not true -- you're not ugly." His hand leaves the wheel and lands on Corey's thigh.

The younger man hums, suppresses how utterly pleased he feels at being told that. You're not ugly, and god if Corey won't be thinking about that for who-knows how long. He doesn't say anything when Roger takes a right turn, heading for the long route back to Corey's side of town.

A stupid, sappy old love song comes on the radio. Corey reaches out to change the channel, settling on WURG, where Willy the Kid is hosting the Anti-Valentines show till late. Heartbroken love songs for all those unlucky enough to be without action tonight.

"You liked the chocolates?" Roger says. It ends in a question mark, but Corey hears a period.

"Yeah, I ate the whole box." He did like them. They were perfect and thoughtful and he's so very, very grateful because he shouldn't expect anything at all.

They pull into the empty lot of the Dollar General and Roger turns the car off, letting the sudden silence -- the stillness of the night -- settle over them. A distant streetlight casts a sickly orange light into the car, the light and shadows chiselling Roger's features deeper, more stern. Corey chews his lip until he tastes blood.

Still, it's Corey's hands that wander first. Because he's been so lonely, waiting all night long for Roger's attention. Looking after Roger's son and drinking Roger's beer and eating Roger's cheap Valentine's present, while Roger was at an expensive restaurant, eating his $80 steak, with his wife who deserves so much better. Corey doesn't though.

And Roger, not for the first time, thinks What the fuck am I doing? when his lips meet Corey's through the darkness. The younger man tastes of bubblegum and beer, but beneath that he can taste those damn chocolates. The taste suits him; sweet and boyish, a little bit cheap.

Any lingering thoughts of Theresa, of how it shouldn't take more than half an hour to drive to Corey's house and back, of how she's waiting for him with a promise -- whispered in his ear as he picked his car keys up off the the table by the door -- are quickly replaced with thoughts of them getting caught, of one of Haddonfield's finest driving by and seeing them, of a sharp tap on the window that makes Corey look up, mouth open and eyes wide and looking every bit the pretty boy he is, of talking their way out of a night in the cells for public indecency because This isn't what it looks like Officer, I swear!

And then Corey's pulling away, twisting himself around in the passenger seat so he can lean down, and Roger can't really make himself think of anything else but the way Corey is so obliging. Undoing Roger's belt, his fly, Corey pulls the older man's boxers down low enough to free his cock, slapping heavy against his toned stomach; Corey presses a wet, pouty kiss to his tip. "I missed you."

"You did?"

Corey nods, wrapping his hand around Roger's length, his fingertips just about touching. "So fucking much."

Another kiss, kittenish licks, Corey's soft hand stroking him slowly, working him like Roger isn't already rock hard for him. Roger closes his eyes, lets himself enjoy Corey's ministrations, learnt precisely by what Roger -- and Roger alone -- likes. They shouldn't be taking their time, however Roger is downright incapable of stopping Corey's hand as it smears his own precum down his shaft, slicking the younger man's movements, but not enough to take away the hint of hot and heavy friction that keeps Roger on the edge.

"I'll make it up to you, hm?" Roger manages, and Corey finally goes down on him, mouth wet and warm and always welcoming, as if to say, Go ahead.

With a sharp inhale, Roger starts, "I'll take you out somewhere. Somewhere nice. I know a restaurant that you'll love, where they do the best desserts you've ever had in your life. You'd like that, right?"

Corey hums in agreement; the vibration makes Roger throb even harder, pulsing against the soft roof of his mouth.

Roger always sounds so sure of his words, so assertive in his thoughts. It makes Corey believe him all the more, makes him want to nod and agree to whatever it is Roger tells him he thinks. Like how he always says Corey was such a tease, all those weekends he'd take his shirt off to mow the lawn, skin glistening with sweat right where Roger could see him. And how Corey had known exactly what he was doing with his wide-eyed virgin routine, as though Roger could have ever said no to him. And that Corey's so easy, so eager, so desperate. That Corey will always say yes.

"Or we could go to a bar. Shoot some pool, have some beers, catch the game. We could have a boys night." He grabs Corey's hair, applying a pressure that is more a suggestion -- more, deeper, please -- than a command.

"And then back to the hotel. Somewhere we can get room service, of course, I know you love that. And I'll take such good care of you. You know that, don't you, baby?"

Roger's getting close and he knows it, especially when Corey swallows, his throat tight and hot and clenching around Roger's cock and he's almost --

He pulls Corey off him, a thin trail of saliva dripping from his plush lip to Roger's spit-shiny head, and watches as the younger man wipes the rest of the drool from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I think you feel guilty," Corey says, voice level and surprisingly measured. There's no elaboration on what Roger should be feeling guilty about, just Corey's wide eyes and swollen lips, and Roger's left to fill in the blank space that Corey leaves behind.

Guilty about making me babysit. Guilty about driving me home. Guilty about doing this with me and then going home to sleep with your wife too.

The list goes on and on and on, and Roger tightens his grip in Corey's hair while he thinks, feeling the smooth, waxy strands twisted between his fingers. Corey will fuss over it in the rear-view mirror on the way home, combing his own fingers through those locks, back into his neat side-part, and Roger will watch him for too long, wishing he could see Corey's hair in it's full glory, not just sex-mused but his natural, bouncing cherub curls, more often.

Roger's hand is still in Corey's hair but he doesn't move, just waits to be told what to do.

"Get in the back."

It's only marginally less cramped in the back seat and darker still, the warm orange glow of the streetlight even fainter as Roger pulls Corey into his lap, lets him burrow into his neck while Roger slips a hand between his legs, palms the growing bulge over rough denim. Corey keens into it eagerly, legs twitching as he tries to keep himself from clamping his thighs around Roger's hand and humping it.

When his whines get louder, a strong hand grabs the back of Corey's knee, moving him to straddle Roger's trim hips, makes sure he's settled before teasing the zipper of Corey's jeans down, once again feeling that hard swell in his underwear.

There's a growing damp patch on the white cotton, sticking it to the leaking pink head of Corey's cock. Roger thumbs the wetness, smearing it through the fabric over Corey's burning skin, and Corey doesn't want to wait. He desperately pulls at the elastic of his briefs, pulls them down and hisses with relief when his dick springs free, resting against the pudge on his lower stomach, leaving a streak of precum on his auburnish happy trail.

Roger clasps one large hand around the both of them and Corey moans like it hurts; he grips tight, squeezing just right to press at the sensitive spot beneath his tip every time Corey's length slides against his.

Corey bucks in Roger's grasp, enough that Roger doesn't even have to stroke them anymore, just holds them still and grinds up against Corey's needy frotting. The developing rhythm is less co-ordinated than Corey can usually manage when he's on top, but the newness of the sensation, the way he can never quiet repeat the same motion or hit the same spot twice is maddening.

With all their clothes still on though, it's almost like it was back then, back when the most they did was dry hump on the couch while a football game played forgotten in the background. And it's not fair, Corey thinks. This is it? This is all he gets?

Roger once told him, "More is just never enough for you, is it, baby?", and although Corey had been kind of preoccupied at the time, the thought had burrowed it's way into his mind, repeated on a loop in Roger's low voice while Corey twiddled his thumbs in class the next day. Momma always told him something similar, when she'd decide he was being ungrateful over something or nothing -- it was always nothing -- that she didn't know what more Corey could want. A roof over his head, food on the table, his mother's love, always. Did he not already have enough? What more could Corey want? Boxed chocolates, empty promises and messy back-seat fumblings.

Roger is proven right. It's Valentine's day and Corey wants more.

"That's it, good boy. Feels good doesn't it?"

As Roger's hand slips further down the back of Corey's jeans, beneath his underwear, Corey catches his wrist, slowing the movement of his hips but not pausing, and tries to direct Roger's fingers closer to where he wants them.

Roger pulls back, resumes simply palming Corey's peachy ass. "Not tonight," he says firmly, and Corey makes a dissatisfied noise against the crisp white cotton of Roger's shirt.

"Please?"

Roger chuckles, "No, Corey." Still firm, but letting Corey down gently. "I know you want to play, but we can't. Not tonight."

"But I really want to, really badly," Corey pleads, scattering kisses up Roger's neck. It's not often Corey has to do the convincing. Rutting harder to prove his point, leaning back so Roger can see that playful little smile on his lips that always get him going, "And it's Valenti --"

"Corey," and it's a warning this time, given in a tone that Corey's never heard Roger use on him before. It's a tone he'd heard him use with Jeremy, though.

Corey shuts his mouth instantly, which is what he's always done best, and tries to ignore how his cheeks burn. The way his skin itches makes him want to scream.

After being told off, he can't bring himself to look back at Roger's disappointed face, so Corey looks down at their cocks instead, both wet with spit and precum, which is somehow less awkward. The spark in his gut rekindles slightly at the sight of Roger's dick, smaller than his by less than a half inch but big enough to knock the breath out of him, rubbing against his own.

Roger's hand has resumed stroking them together -- quickly, efficiently, like he's doing them both a favour.

A loud squeak breaks through the near-silence when Corey reaches out to brace himself against the window, his hand slipping in the condensation made up mostly of his own panting breaths. Another time, perhaps, it would have made him laugh, and his breathy laugh would have made Roger laugh and then --

Roger comes hard in his hand because he really can't let his shirt get dirty, and Corey follows with a shuddering groan, a half-word that could have been anything -- Fuck, Roger, Sorry -- warbles out with it.

"It's okay," Roger answers. "You're okay."

Corey licks Roger's hand clean, sucking the mess from his fingers. Tongue working between each digit till they're soaking wet. Tentative, playful nips at fingertips, biting just barely at his knuckles, never hard enough to leave a mark. No evidence gets left behind.

Feeling each ridge of Corey's teeth, Roger remembers the look on Corey's face from earlier, how his cheeks burned and he shrunk in on himself, making himself small and docile. If Corey bit down hard right now, sinking straight to the bone, then Roger would probably deserve it.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Corey whispers, lips brushing Roger's wet fingertips. Even in the quiet of the car, Corey's voice is smaller than it deserves to be. His big, brown eyes are glazy when they meet Roger's cold blues.

Roger stays quiet, feeling the warmth of Corey's heavy breath between them. In, out, in, out. He holds Corey's flushed face in his wet hand, strokes his thumb softly against his cheek, feels the barely-there stubble under his palm, watches Corey's eyes flutter shut, his lip twitch with the hint of a smile, his brow crease, fat teardrops well under his lashes until they spill down his cheeks.

"Let's get you home, hm?"

Mr Allen drops him off right outside his house -- "You're coming to do the gardening tomorrow, right?" -- and watches as Corey climbs out of the car and up the front porch steps. Joan lurks at the window, the curtains twitching closed once Corey gets to the door.

With one hand on the door handle, Corey turns to wave. Mr Allen is mostly shadowed in the driver's seat, but Corey half-smiles at him anyway, still looking even as Momma pulls him into the house by his scruff for being home so late.

As Corey lies in his bed, he stares up at the darkness of the ceiling. Or maybe his eyes are just closed because his fingers, slippery with the lotion from his nightstand, are shoved down his underwear. The gift tag from his chocolates -- For my Good Boy, ❤ R -- burns a hole beneath his pillow.

#corey cunningham x roger allen #💗💌 corey's love letters 💌💗#corey cunningham #i am a sweet tooth corey truther #corey baby that married man doesnt love you !!!!!!!#and they're such a cliche 🙄 fooling around with the babysitter ?? derivative #but i will never give corey a break #and thats a bona fide anna promise 😎#canon divergence my beloved !! they need more time together to make each other worse and ruin their lives even harder #some bonuses for the dedicated readers who also read my tags:#the game playthrough corey and jeremy watch is for f/naf #corey defo had a f/naf stan friend at school who would explain all the lore as it happened. like early days f/naf #corey watched his friend go through the trenches of the 1 - 4 timeline #the 90s movie that corey watches is the tal/ented mr rip/ley #the chocolates are russell stover. i added the pink bow though because 🎀aesthetic🎀#you know that gif of jude law in Wilde 1997 ?? yeah that one.#cunningallen

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essskel · 1 year

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i've just seen you post a lot of cool asks and deep discussions over the past day and i got lonely and want to join the party hehe. so i was going to ask smth that ive been meaning to ask your opinion on for a while: what do you think about philippa's martyrdom and the rewriting of history which occurred after her death? i was always kind of shocked with how violent a death she was recorded as receiving, and shocked twice-over at how positively she was thought of a hundred years after her death. but it's just very interesting to me, especially because of the real-life historical context as it relates to christian martyrdom, and the message around it about history often being obscured - nimue and condwiramurs 'seeking the truth' of the ending of the legend of the witcher girl and debating what is factual history and what is made-up, while at the very same time, discussing the accounts of the members of the lodge and not thinking to question their positive impressions of their morality or motivations. it makes for some great dramatic irony. like nimue and condwiramurs being fans of both ciri and philippa despite the obvious antagonistic relationship between these two. (well, okay, i suppose they're just like us, then...)

Sorry this answer is late but YEAH what was up with Philippa's ending.

I was initially put off by it especially after her final scene that's filled with all this anger and persevering determination to keep Radovid from holding power over her. It feels like this push of strength that's followed up by 'and then she died horribly anyway' which took the wind out of the sails a bit for me.

But...idk, now I think I'm more at peace with it, because like you said, her crimes being swept aside by history in favor of a more heightened and reverent narrative is probably the best ending she could have asked for after the life she lived. It's such a time-honored pathway to infamy that historical figures fall into, particularly political figures in colonizing countries.

Going further, I have no idea if Sapkowski intended this, but to me, her ending and the legacy that nimue and condwiramurs have adopted might relate to some of the discussions of white feminsm and the way that complex or even downright awful, murderous female historical figures have been romanticized and martyred by 'progressive' groups in ways that they should not have been. Marie-Antoinette, Mother Theresa, Virginia Woolf, literally any British Queen, Coco Chanel, Bonnie Parker (of Bonnie and Clyde), ect. (that list was all over the place, sorry lmao that was off the top of my head) Some of those women are war criminals, some are Nazis, some are outspoken racists, but they've all been called feminist figures at some point, some still are.

So Philippa with her covert, hard to track operations of the lodge, paired with a very public and cruel death? Yeah, actually it does make sense that she's a saint decades later, and I don't think she'd be very let down by this either.

And in relation to Ciri, it just feels like a final reminder that it's not the world, or the countries, or even history that's on Ciri's side, it was only ever truly her family that knew her and respected her in full. nimue and condwiramurs try to know her and they do in their own very important way - I don’t actually fault them - but they can’t 100% do right by her or even know her in the way they hope because that’s just not how time works.

#bonnie and clyde witcher discussion. never thought I'd be here #thank you nimueeeee I love hearing from you!!!#hanzajesthanza #the witcher books #philippa eilhart #nazi mention #ask #double shot

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mokonahapuuuuuu · 4 months

Text

Slam

After realizing that he saw Belle as more than just a friend, he thought of ideas to make her see him differently.

She was a sweet girl, no doubt, but being too careful didn’t hurt. Jay was already with Theresa, Archie was taken too. Archie and Belle would argue often anyways, so it’s not like it was going anywhere. Herry, probably just friends, and Odie, how could she put up with his incessant geek ramblings. He laughed to himself.

He could beat Odie no problem, and besides.

He was way more good looking than all four of them anyways. He got this in the bag.

He got out his new gel, and smoothed it through his hair. It wasn’t like he was going to anything formal tonight, but every hair had to be in place.

Skin was moisturized enough, check. Concealer, check. New sunglasses, check.

And when he was at her door, he could always lower them down a tad to show his eyes. Girls love mystery.

He walked through the hallways of the Brownstone to her room. Just casually walk by, say hi, ask if she wanted to go out for a walk, maybe go to the hot dog stand around the corner…

Suddenly the door to her room opened, and hit him in the nose. It was Belle at the door. Her eyes widen.

“Oh, goodness, Neil…!” She dashed to his side. “I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

They faced mythical creatures on a daily basis, so he could walk away from this no problem. Though as he checked himself in his mirrors, he saw a bruise on his nose. He was going to have to buy more concealer today.

Guess his ego was bruised as well. May Belle not see him differently because of his nose today. Though being the kind person she was, she knew she never would.

Apollo being her God mentor, Belle was the first aid of the group. They dashed to the kitchen where she fixed his bruise.

To make it up to him, she thought she’d dash by the hot dog stand around the corner for lunch for the both of them.

Today’s plans didn’t quite turn out the way he expected them to, though he guess he could say that trying to impress Belle today was a big slam.

#class of the titans

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vanillavagrant · 10 months

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Do you happen to have any good references or at least pretty good physical descriptions of Leon and at least Bram if not all his kids? At least the ones we've seen in the story, anyway! Just curious, since I know about their wings, but I can't recall what other physical attributes they had, like what style hair and such :)

I knew someone would ask about this sooner or later. I have kept it very vague on purpose. Mostly because that way the reader can project whatever they want onto the characters, and secondly because I didn’t feel like the physical descriptions were that interesting outside the wings. I also think it would have been kind of weird if I paused to describe all the fledglings in the middle of Bram freaking out about being kidnapped; and then I just kind of forgot about it... The only thing that I’ve really tried pushing is characters having brown eyes, because brown eyes are so underutilized in writing. It’s all green but also blue uwu

But I do have mental images that I work with. Let’s do them in descending ages. (And guys, don’t feel like you have to change your mental images to fit what I’m picturing. If you want Adrian to have blue hair, go for it.)

Leon: How I picture him, Mr Daddy Angel wears his hair in an office approved hairstyle, and his hair is brown. I haven’t decided the exact shade. My brain fills in anything from milk chocolate to dark brown, bordering on black. He has an olive skin tone and from the looks of him he’s from somewhere in the Levant (Eastern Mediterranean, the cradle of the Abrahamic religions), though he’s kind of pale from being at “the office” all day. Naturally, he has the best eye lashes.

Because Suit has picked the moms from different places on Earth, all the kids turn out mixed with one thing or another. Angels don’t really care about ethnicities though; they care more about the color of your wings.(Which have their own stereotypes.) and they'll make you assimilate to Heaven whether you like it or not :)

Jack: As Bram has mentioned several times, Jack is close to being a carbon copy of their Daddy. His hair is more unruly though.

Theresa: I envision her as a sporty Persian princess. Long, black, pin straight hair, olive skin, dark brown eyes. Bram would definitely describe her as “Disney Pocahontas, but middle eastern and stuck up”, but he keeps it to himself. (Not that Theresa knows about Disney outside of Mariel and Nathan mentioning it in passing.) She usually keeps it in a ponytail or loose, but if Hannah wants to braid it, she doesn’t refuse.

Adrian: Everything about Adrian is pale compared to the other kids. He has cool blond hair; the type no one believes is actually natural and they would accuse him of dyeing it. I haven’t decided his eye color. Maybe hazel so that Hannah isn’t alone with green eyes. I imagine he has freckles, although they’re faint.

Hannah: She has 3a 3b springy chestnut hair. It reaches to her chin, but if you stretch it out the longest strands could reach to her collar bone. Don’t ask me how she manages it in heaven, I don’t think they have gels for CGM, haha. If she’s standing in direct sunlight, it can shine red in some strands. Green eyes that are brought out even more by her wings. I imagine she’d dress in sun dresses with busy patterns whenever the weather allows it.

Mariel: If Theresa is the Persian princess, Mariel is the princess’ plainer younger sister. She has a warm skin tone and tans really easily. She has dark brown hair that reaches past her shoulders, but it’s nowhere near as long as Theresa’s. It’s like 2a, so there’s some shape to it. She would definitely buzz herself an undercut, get piercings and dress like a skater girl with lots of oversized flannel shirts if she was let loose in the twenty first century.

Nathan: Chibi Nathan is in my profile pic. He has longer brown hair (chin length) the same texture as Mariel, and brown eyes. He thinks cutting it short would make him look too grown up. I keep thinking of him with a pageboy haircut. His sisters would definitely try making him wear it in a manbun or half-up if they knew about the concept, but he doesn’t like hair ties.

Bram: The baby of the family has light brown hair and easily passes as white because of his mom. He does tan rather than burn in the summer. He has the same eye color as Leon. He was never rebellious enough to grow out his hair or get pierced. Besides, he knew his given name (Brahim) risked giving him trouble in applications and job interviews, so he tried staying as neat as possible.

Thank you for the ask Cal!

#question #leon #bram #jack #nathan #Theresa #Mariel #Hannah #character info

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theasterous09 · 2 years

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This takes place post-S2.

________

It's that time of year again, Halloween!

The sky was pitch black and the moon was high in the air, lighting the night skies in a pale blue glow. There were people running around the streets dressed in all sorts of strange costumes, and our favorite duo was no exception!

Randy and Howard were walking around, looking for their friends. The two decided to spend their holiday with the Der Monster Klub (well, it was more Randy than Howard that decided to join them). They’ve been hanging out with them lately, and are now good friends with them. They're even considered “official members” of the klub now!

During their walk, Howard began talking. "Listen, Cunningham. You're my best friend," he started casually, before blurting out, "But are you seriously doing this shoobtastic thing again!?"

Randy stared at him, puzzled. "Uh, what?"

The other boy sighed in annoyance, then began to point at their costumes. The shorter teen was portraying McFist this year. He had a mustache, (fake) mechanical arm, and everything! And he was even carrying a pumpkin basket that looked more like the head of a robo-ape than an actual pumpkin.

When Randy still did not understand, Howard facepalmed. He said in a hushed tone, "Your costume! I thought we got over this after the whole thing with ScoopsKang?" the boy asked.

The purple-haired boy had finally caught up with what Howard was trying to point out. "Oooh, you mean this?" he asked, looking at his attire. He had the ninja mask on top of his head, inside out again. But unlike his winter outfit, he was wearing a ninja suit, made by his own 14-year-old hands (with his Mom's help in most parts). It was a far cry from the original and more professional-looking suit.

Randy waved Howard's concern off. "Don't sweat it, buddy. The Ninja Nomicon and I talked about this beforehand and it actually allowed me to wear this! It said something about past Ninjas doing something similar and they were never caught." Randy assured the redhead.

Howard's eyebrow raised, "Well, that doesn't seem right. Are you sure that book allowed you to do this or you just wonked up its 'words of wisdom' like you always do?" he said sarcastically, waving his hands at the "words of wisdom" part.

"I- hey! I don't always do that!" Randy countered.

Howard childishly blew a raspberry at the taller teen. "Do too," and before Randy could say anything else, Howard pointed at the group they were looking for. "Oh, and there's the klub."

True to his words, the group of teens were there. A few waved as they noticed the two getting closer.

"Hello, dear friends!" Julian, wearing a vampire costume, greeted them with a giggle. "Oh, how delightful! We can now begin our candy-hunting adventure."

Howard actually beamed at that, "Aw, yeah! It's about time. This pumpkin needs to be filled," he said, waving his robo-ape-pumpkin basket.

"Wait!" Theresa, in a zombie attire, spoke excitedly, "Before we go, I want everyone to meet our newest member," she gestured at a young girl.

Randy gaped, then a long smile stretched his face, "Rachel!?"

The said girl squealed when she realized who he was, "O-M-Squee, Randy! It's been so long, hasn't it?"

The rest of the group eyed them, Juggo (as a mime) spoke up, "Wait, you guys know each other?"

Realizing that he had to explain himself, now, Randy sheepishly coughed. "Uh, yeah. We've met. She actually helped me out when I nearly collapsed from exhaustion," he said, a bit embarrassed. (referencing Wrong Laboratory, Turned Out Right in FF.net)

Rachel shyly scratched the back of her neck, a small blush - not noticeable enough for any of them to see - formed in her cheeks. "Eheh, yeah… I'm super-duper glad you're all better now, though!" she said, before changing the subject.

"Anyway, to anyone else who doesn't know me: Hello! I'm Rachel Cowell. I've met some of you guys before, but it's super amazing to meet you all!" the girl exclaimed.

Rachel was wearing a pink gown with a crown on her head. Her skin was a lot more pink, too. And she was wearing a long, pink wig… wait-

"No honkin' way! You're dressed up as Princess Bubblegum from Adventure Time!?" Randy said excitedly. He was a big fan of Adventure Time. Unfortunately, it wasn't that popular of a cartoon in Norrisville. So, seeing a fellow fan of the show made his heart jump with enthusiasm.

Rachel's eyes shone and she gasped, "You watch the show, too? That is so bruce!"

Before the two could geek out about the show. Howard groaned, "Are you guys done? This ape needs to be filled with candy," he said, gesturing at his basket.

Theresa looked around the place. Norrisville was a big place, that includes the towns. She took a moment to think before coming up with a conclusion.

"Why don't we split up into two groups? We can get more candy like that!"

Dave, in a spider costume, nodded, "I agree. The more houses we can go to, the more candy we'll have," he said.

The group decided on which direction they would go. Julian and Theresa chose to go left with Dave; Randy, Howard, Rachel, and Juggo decided to go right. With that, the two groups said their goodbyes to each other and parted ways.

_______

With Randy's group, they began to converse about their costumes. Rachel complimented everyone's costumes in awe, especially Randy's.

"Wowzies! If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that you're the Ninja! You look exactly like him," Rachel said with glee.

Randy (wearing his inside-out mask on) side-glanced Howard, who was eating McStick-O's (don't sue me Stick-O's) and pretended not to listen to their conversation. He glanced back at Rachel, "Ah, yeah! But… I'm not him, obviously," he said lamely.

Rachel looked a bit confused at the answer she received from him, but she didn't question any further as they reached the second house they'll go trick or treating on. The walking to houses didn't stop for a while until a blood-curdling scream was heard near the 9th house they passed.

Ignoring the first rule of "staying away from danger", the 4 teens ran towards the loud noise. There was a giant spider robot causing massive destruction in the area. Kids and adults were running around in chaos as the spider-bot struck its metallic webs on houses and unfortunate people.

"Oh, that is not cute. Not cute at all!" Rachel said, shaking in fear.

Randy was pulled aside by Howard. The redhead whispered in his ear, "What the juice? Why is McFist attacking, now? He hasn't attacked in 2 weeks!"

The purple-haired teen shook his head, "I don't know either, buddy. But I'll stop him before he hurts anyone els-"

He wasn't able to finish his sentence as he and Howard were pulled by Rachel. Juggo had already ran ahead of them. Despite the situation and the tight grip Rachel had on Randy's hand, it still felt soft and comfortable. Randy's face flushed as he realized that—

He lightly slapped his cheek with his free hand, "Focus, Randy! We're in danger right now and this is no time to realize that a girl is holding your hand!" he thought to himself.

After a few more moments of running, Rachel stopped at an alleyway. She tried to stop her heart from beating too fast, panting for more air to get to her lungs.

She sighed, "I think we're safe here," she said.

Just then, Rachel felt a slight tug on her hand. She turned to see that she was still holding onto Randy's hand. She nervously giggled, "Heh, oops! Sorry 'bout that!" she said, turning around so Randy wouldn't see her burning cheeks.

Randy wanted to tell her that it was fine, but he noticed that someone's missing. He looked around, "Hey, Rachel. Weren't you holding both my and Howard's hands?"

And now that he mentioned it, Rachel looked around the area. Howard was nowhere to be found, him and Juggo specifically.

Then, a loud roar split in the air. The two covered their ears, Rachel screaming in shock. The spider-bot found them. Randy and Rachel tried to run deeper into the alley, but they soon reached a dead end and the robot was not far behind.

"Why the honk is it chasing us!?" Randy cried out. It wasn't like McFist to send out robots and target random students! Unless…

Oh cheese, did McFist know that he was the Ninja? Had he figured it out? Randy did not know, but now wasn't the time. Rachel was quivering in fear beside him and the spider robot was getting closer, ready to attack them.

Randy knew that he was going to be in deep trouble with Nomicon, but it's not like he had a choice at this point! He did one last look around the area (and a double-check on the robot in case it had cameras), before turning to Rachel.

"Listen, Rachel. What I'm about to do, it has to stay in this alleyway," Randy quickly told her, and took off his mask to position it right.

Rachel took her eyes off of the robot and looked at the boy. "Randy? What are you talki–" she was never able to finish her sentence as she saw Randy fix his mask and wore it again.

This time, unlike earlier where nothing happened, she was dumbfounded to see red and black cloth form around the purple-haired teen. The Ninja now stood where Randy once was.

She felt a bit faint after that, her ears were ringing and her vision blurred a bit, but she could hear and see Randy–the Ninja– fight the robotic creature. She can see him rip the robot down into shreds like a professional fighter, and all she could do about it was stare in awe.

It only took ten minutes at best, Randy had finally defeated the monster with little mistakes. Not removing the mask just yet, he turned to face an awestruck Rachel, who was on her knees. Randy helped her stand up, and Rachel did– albeit, a bit wobbly.

A few moments of silence passed, neither wanted to speak, before the Ninja finally took off the mask and revealed Randy Cunningham. He continued to stare at Rachel worriedly and Rachel continued to stare back in the same open-mouthed look. He didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid of how she would react to him when she found out that he was the Ninja.

"Okay, I didn't plan on revealing my identity to you, especially like this. See, the Ninja's identity is supposed to be a secret and I can't really tell anyone about i–" he was caught off his ramblings by an overjoyed Rachel, who had a tight grip on his waist. Randy honestly had no idea what to do, he did not expect her to hug him like that. He could feel his cheeks heating up and whatever rant he was trying to say was left forgotten.

"Thank you, thank you, thaaaankers so much for saving me!" she said, hugging the malfunctioning boy tighter with each appreciation. After a few more seconds, she let go of him. She had rosy cheeks on her face, just like Randy's, and a smile stretched her face, eyes shining like stars.

Randy was taken aback by this. He definitely did not expect that reaction towards her, but it felt like a massive weight was lifted off his shoulders at the same time. He sighed in relief, "Huh, wow. Okay, I did not expect that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

A more comfortable silence enveloped the two as they both stared at each other's eyes, before Rachel spoke, "So… you're the Ninja," she said, almost unbelieving the fact.

Randy shifted his leg to the other, "Uh, yeah.. Listen, what I said earlier- about not telling anyone? I mean it, the Ninja's identity should never be revealed to anyone. I only did this because we were cornered and there was nothing else I could do."

Rachel's expression dampened a bit, but she nodded in understanding, "I get it. I promise not to tell anyone about this. You can count on me, Randy!" she said, waving her hands in a faux salute and winking in the process. Randy's face couldn't get any more redder. That was just adorable!

_______

In the next few minutes, Randy and Rachel were looking for their two lost friends. After less than half an hour of searching, they both found them. The group then decided to look for the rest of their friends.

"I continued to get some free candy during the whole 'robot thing'," Howard stated, gesturing at his now full basket.

Juggo looked at him in confusion, "But weren't you scared that the robot would attack you?"

Howard shrugged, side-glancing Randy, "Eh, the Ninja probably beat the cheese out of it already," he said casually, popping a chewing gum.

Rachel actually perked up at this. Does that mean Howard knew?

Whatever, she wasn't going to ask about it, now. She promised to keep it a secret, and she will do anything to keep it that way.

_______

After a few hours, Randy and others found Theresa, Julian, and Dave. They shared candies with each other before calling it a night and parting ways.

Randy and Howard walked together now since they're next-door neighbors. During their walk, Randy told Howard how Rachel found out that he was the Ninja and how the robot targeted the two of them specifically.

"Haha! See? I told you that someone would find out!" Howard said mockingly, pointing at Randy's ninja costume.

Randy rolled his eyes, "Well, it isn't my fault this time!" he countered, "We were cornered and I had to do something!"

Howard offered a deaf ear, "Blah, blah, blah! All I hear are excuses!" he said before turning to the direction of his house, "Catch ya on the flip-side, Cunningham."

Randy didn't say anything, offering a playful eye-roll, before turning to his own house. Once he entered his home, he greeted his Mom and Dad before telling them he'll go to bed.

He changed from his costume to his pajamas, before sitting on his top bunk-bed with the Nomicon in hand. He opened it and his consciousness entered the ancient book.

_______

He was gently placed on the wooden floor of the big dojo, the same place he was sent during the whole Debbie Kang incident. There were samurais and dragons everywhere, just like last time. Randy was now growing nervous. Was the Nomicon really that upset that it had to make this look into some sort of deja vu?

Soon, the First Ninja's voice was heard, making Randy jump. He turned to face the said warrior, "You have once again revealed your identity to another innocent," he said with a strict tone.

Randy looked down in shame. "I'm sorry. It really felt like I had no other choice. It was either not out myself and get both of us hurt or that, and I really didn't want her to get hurt."

The First Ninja didn't speak, keeping his stern gaze a little longer, before sighing. Randy looked up in surprise, "I… commend you for what you did, Ninja. You saved a life tonight, once again, and that is noble of you."

Randy beamed at that, "Does that mean we're all good?" he asked, hopeful.

The First Ninja nodded before narrowing his eyes, "You are to not tell anyone about your identity any further. I believe that you made the right decision by trusting the young lady, but she will be the last."

Randy agreed, "I understand, Finja," when he saw the raised eye-brow that First Ninja sent him, he shrugged sheepishly, "Just something I've always wanted to call you."

He continued to look confused, but dropped the subject. "It appears that we have even more pressing matters to discuss about," First Ninja said, even more serious than before.

Randy, feeling the growing tension, knew what's up. "Right, McFist probably knows who I am if that robot had anything to say…" he said, covering his face with both hands. "What am I going to do?"

First Ninja placed a hand on Randy's head, "Do not anguish, young Ninja. We will solve this one step at a time."

Randy removed both hands from his face and offered First Ninja an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Finja."

They stayed there in comfortable silence, before First Ninja replied.

"Don't call me that."

_______

Happy Halloween! 🦇

#rc9gn #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #fanfiction #happy halloweeeeeeen #randy x rachel #Next time I'll just put a link so that fanfics like these don't flood my blog-

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royal-diaries-podcast · 2 years

Text

A cool story from @little-schonbrunn spilling the tea on what could have been…

“Hi there! I just wanted to let you know how much I love your blog. These books defined my adolescence and gave me 20 subjects I still have such a heavy interests in so many years later. I actually have 2 full sets of the books, I adore them so much.

I always love talking about Royal Diaries books that could have been and never were once the series was cancelled. It’s funny because occasionally I see a Maria Theresa book that was cancelled referenced online and I actually am the one behind that whole thing … years ago, during the run of the series, I was emailing with Carolyn Meyer around the time that Kristina came out, and she was the one who mentioned to me that she thought she saw Maria Theresa on a list of projects being worked on. It’s never been confirmed and we can only assume that if it was real, it was indeed cancelled, but who knows. It’s possible, because even Carolyn Meyer had a Dear America book that was cancelled when they ended the series in 2004 and it was just published as it’s own YA novel (I think it was about a girl in Amish Pennsylvania in the 1950s?), so there very well might have been Royal Diaries books that we never got it. Anyways, it’s a topic I always enjoy bringing up — books that could have been — because there are so so many interesting subjects. I thought you would appreciate that bit of throwback information too.

Again, love the blog!”

#the royal diaries #the royal diaries bookclub #Marie theresa #carolyn meyer

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 4

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. But - nudity! 😉

Word Count: 4,328

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: So, here I am with chapter 4. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for all the very kind comments that this series has received so far. You're all fabulous.

Series Master List || Map of Camp || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Y/N woke with a start. She was breathing fast, her heart pounding. The sense of fear and worry that had lived trapped inside her chest for months lifted quickly as she looked down to see Emma laying beside her on the narrow cot, having migrated there from her own bed sometime in the night.

Y/N resettled herself so she could pull her daughter’s warm little body closer to her, tucking the gray, wool blanket tighter around Emma’s shoulders to protect her from the cool September morning. She looked at Emma’s pale face, the bones a little too prominent, and was grateful once again to be where they were.

They’d been traveling around, nomadic and scrounging for whatever food they could find, for months. They’d spent a week in an abandoned church one time, a few days in an old hunting cabin. If they were lucky they sometimes found a camp of other survivors who would allow them to stay for a day or two. But the people would inevitably shuffle them along quickly, not willing to divvy up their resources amongst two more people.

When they’d found the Billings camp, she’d been so happy. They’d taken them in without much issue, but she’d soon discovered why. The camp had been made up of somewhat fanatical people, calling themselves Christians, who believed the apocalypse happened because people had turned away from the church. So while they did feel it was their duty to help Y/N and Emma, unfortunately they also felt it was their duty to bring them to the light. They’d spent most of the month they’d lived there praying and listening to the leaders call upon God to cast away the evil.

If the Croat attack hadn’t happened, Y/N knew she probably wouldn’t have stayed much longer anyway. She’d heard people talking about this camp, Camp Chitaqua, saying that it had a good leader, a man named Dean Winchester, and she’d wondered whether it could be the same man who’d saved her all those years ago.

She sighed deeply now, breathing in the fresh scent of the pine trees around them, giving thanks again that they’d made it here, and that, despite all odds, she was still alive. Even more miraculously, she was still herself. For a while, she’d been secretly worried that she’d only managed to stave off the virus in the same way that mothers could sometimes lift a car off of their child, by sheer power of will and desperation as mothers. But Emma had been here, and safe, for a week now, and she still felt exactly the same.

She couldn’t explain it, but she was trying not to question her good fortune. They were in a well-run camp, complete with guards, supplies, and a leader who, whatever he might claim, cared a lot about the welfare of the people in his care. She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

After Emma woke up, Y/N cooked them their oatmeal ration for the morning, gave them both basin baths, and braided Emma’s hair. As she was tying the last ribbon, two small voices were calling for Emma from outside the tent. When they went to look, there were two little girls, Keisha and Julianne, looking for Emma to come out and play.

Their mom, Monique gave Y/N a warm smile as she shook her hand. If Y/N’s bloodshot eyes worried the woman at all, she didn’t show it.

“We’ve heard a lot about you from Emma.” Monique said as the girls ran about, giggling and chattering all at the same time. “She spent a lot of time with us over this last week. We’re so glad to see you’ve recovered.”

Y/N was eternally grateful that Monique didn’t ask questions for which she had no answers. They spoke for a few minutes about their children, and Y/N mentioned her intentions to start a school. Monique’s eyes lit up.

“It won’t be much,” Y/N warned, “but I thought the kids could use something.”

They talked for a little while longer and then Monique requested Emma’s presence for the morning. Keisha and Julianne were looking for their favorite playmate. Y/N sent Emma along with a tight hug and a tug on one of her braids.

There was a small part of her overextended protectiveness that worried any time Emma wasn’t right next to her. But she knew how important it was that her little one got the chance to play, so she kept her worries to herself and waved her off to have fun, with thanks to Monique for watching her.

She spent the next couple of hours wandering around the camp. She learned the layout of everything, where the medical tent was, where they went to get their food rations for the week. While she was there, she finally got to meet Theresa’s mother, Brandy. She was a big barrel of a woman with russet-colored skin, long dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, big strong hands, and kind brown eyes.

She explained how the ration system worked, and explained that she worked with “The Boss” and “The Angel” to make sure everyone got their fair share, and that absolutely no food was going to waste.

Y/N’s forehead crinkled at that. “Angel?”

Brandy nodded. “Castiel.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “He’s an angel?” She quietly berated herself for not figuring out that someone with a name like “Castiel” was an angel.

Brandy nodded again, and then spoke quietly. “But he doesn’t have any angel mojo. No wings or halo, or whatever.” She shrugged. “That’s what I heard anyway.”

Y/N chatted with Brandy a bit longer, offering up her idea for the school. The older woman was intrigued with the idea and gave some suggestions for where they could hold their classes. She scoffed at the idea of holding them outside.

“Gonna be winter soon and the wind can be really wicked around here. I’ll talk to The Boss about giving you one of those sheds at the Northeast edge of camp, behind the main cabin. They built them new there this summer for storage - for tools, and supplies like propane and such. But one shed will do for the winter, and they can build a second one for storage in the spring if they need it.” She said decisively.

“Well, please, don’t bug Dean too much about space.” Y/N cautioned. “He was reluctant enough to say yes to the school existing at all. I don’t want to make him doubt his decision.”

But Brandy just waved away the worry. “The Boss is hard, but he knows a good idea when he hears it.”

After a few more minutes of chatting Y/N gave Theresa a squeeze goodbye and headed back to her tent. She was excited to start putting some ideas together for lessons. She’d have to be a bit creative since there probably wasn’t a lot in the way of school supplies available. But she loved a challenge.

She was working at the little table in her tent when she heard a familiar throat clearing before Dean’s voice called out her name.

“Hi!” She called back. “Come in!”

Dean pushed through the tent flap, and walked in, a big green duffle bag in his hand. The height of the tent was just barely tall enough to accommodate him; it brushed against his spiky hair as he walked towards her, and Y/N had to smile.

Their tent home had seemed spacious when they’d arrived in it the other day. There was room enough for two narrow cots, a table and two chairs, a small wooden box for clothes and other supplies, and a little metal camping stove that was vented to the outside through a hole in the roof of the heavy canvas tent. She assumed that was for when it got really cold, and they couldn’t survive without some heat through the night.

It met all their needs and she’d been impressed by its size, having felt lucky enough to get the little two-person pup tent they’d had when they were at the Billings camp. But now, with Dean inside, the space felt much smaller. He seemed to take up most of the room in the tent, and he kept his neck bent forward slightly to avoid brushing against the top again.

“So, the river?” He asked, thumbing behind him.

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. That would be fabulous.” She grabbed her clean clothes and followed him out of the tent. She asked him to wait for a moment and dashed over to Monique’s to get Emma. But the three little girls didn’t want to stop playing, so Monique offered to take Emma with them in a couple of days when she took the girls down to the river.

“Okay.” Y/N gave in to her daughter’s pleading eyes and the three little girls squealed and jumped around.

Y/N was thrilled to see Emma having so much fun, and she couldn’t justify derailing that fun just for a bath. But she made Monique promise to let her watch the girls for an afternoon very soon as payback, and she hurried back to where Dean waited, somewhat impatiently, by her tent.

His face held a deep scowl. “Are we good?” He asked.

Y/N nodded and he turned away, obviously expecting Y/N would follow. Once again she found herself walking quickly to try and keep up with his long-limbed, brisk pace. They went east towards the medical tent. But before they got to the tent, they reached a wide, open area where five vehicles were parked. Four of the vehicles, two trucks, a Jeep and a van, sat in a three sided aluminum building. Inside the building two men and a woman were working on one of the trucks, a black Ford F-150.

Dean nodded in their direction as he entered, and they lifted their hands in a salute before returning to their work. He walked towards the Jeep, but Y/N had her attention snagged by the car that sat outside the shed, towards the back, almost behind the building. The tires were flat and vegetation grew all around it. The front windshield had a big crack in it, and both bumpers were missing. Rust covered the tire rims and the bottom of the passenger side door.

But she still recognized it. She still remembered the way the sleek, black beauty had shined as it pulled into their driveway so long ago. She remembered the way her dad had whistled when he saw it and the way both Dean and John had beamed with pride when he told them, “That is an American classic right there!”

She walked towards it, and her heart was sad to see it so beaten up and neglected. Dean followed her around the side of the building. “What are you doing?” He asked angrily.

She looked back at him. “I remember her. What a shame.”

Dean’s jaw ticked and he grabbed her wrist to yank her back into the building. “Just a car, it wasn’t practical. Now, come on, you wanna a bath, or what? I don’t have all damn day here.”

Y/N kept her mouth shut as she climbed into the Jeep, flinching slightly when Dean slammed his door; she’d obviously hit a nerve. In deference to that fact she stayed quiet for a little while. But eventually, she risked starting a conversation.

“How far is it to walk out to the river?” She asked.

He shrugged. “‘Bout an hour or so.”

“How long will it take us?”

“Five or six minutes.”

She smiled. “Well, then I really appreciate the ride.”

He shrugged again. “Sooner we're there, the sooner we’re done.”

“I also appreciate you taking the time out of your day.”

He just grunted in response and she wasn’t sure exactly how to interpret the sound. Whether it meant, It’s fine, or I’m regretting the offer, she wasn’t sure, but she plowed on anyway.

“I can only imagine how busy you must be, running a camp this size. How many people live here?”

“Don’t know exactly.” He answered and she thought that might be the only answer he was going to give, but then he continued. “Somewhere between a hundred and a hundred and fifty, I’d guess.”

“Wow!” Y/N said, truly impressed. “Billings only had about 60, and they were the biggest group I’d ever seen.”

Dean didn’t respond as the Jeep jolted over a big rut in the uneven path they were driving down. Trees scraped against the sides of the Jeep as they passed, and Y/N almost bounced out of her seat as they hit another deep rut.

“Put your fucking seatbelt on.” He barked at her. “You tryna fly through the windshield?”

Y/N grabbed the strap and clicked it in place. Then she frowned at him. “You’re not wearing your seatbelt.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.” He warned her.

She snorted. “That’s crap advice.” He scowled at her but said nothing more.

They were silent until they emerged from the trees onto a wide river bank and Y/N could see a sparkling river laid out in front of them. She gasped.

“It’s beautiful.”

Dean threw the Jeep into park and turned off the engine. “It’s advantageous.” He admitted as he climbed out, pulling his duffel bag out with him.

Y/N jumped down and walked quickly towards the river, already itching to feel the water wash away the layer of grime she could feel sitting on her skin. When they reached the side of the river, they stood for a minute. Y/N looked over at Dean, waiting for some privacy before she took off her clothes and jumped into the river.

Instead he nodded towards it, and warned her. “Don’t go too far east. The current here is slower, but it picks up around the bend up there, and it can be hard to stand.”

He dropped the bag on the ground, reaching in and grabbing a bar of soap and tossing it to her. It wasn’t new, but it smelled fresh and zesty, so she didn’t care that it had been used previously.

She stood still, holding the soap, making no move to get into the water. Dean looked at her, annoyed again. “Are you going in or not?”

She knew she was blushing and she felt ridiculous for it. But she waved towards him. “Could you turn around or something?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, actually, I can’t. There’s a reason no one ever comes to the river alone. We’re almost five miles from camp, there could be wild animals, rogue Croats, or desperate men around.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Someone needs to stand watch.”

Y/N nodded, accepting that logic. But she still didn’t want to get naked with him watching. When she continued to hesitate, Dean gave a huge huff and shook his head.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Even though you definitely don’t have anything I haven’t seen before, if it will make you hurry up and get in the fucking water, I’ll turn my head while you strip down. Just tell me when you’re covered up in the water, so I can go back to making sure nothing tries to eat you.”

With that, he turned his head away from her and sighed again, before holding up his finger. “And be careful - the deeper the water, the faster the current.”

She shucked her old grubby clothes quickly, practically moaning about how good it was going to feel to be clean and then actually step into clean clothes. She ran into the river, squeaking slightly as the cold water hit her skin.

“Whoo! It’s freezing!” She said with a slightly manic giggle. But she kept walking until the water covered her breasts. “Okay.” She called out over the rushing of the river. It was a little hard to keep her balance as she began washing, but she managed.

She tried to ignore Dean standing barely twenty feet away as she washed her body quickly and then dipped her head back in the water, lathering up her hands to scrub through her hair and across her scalp. As she rinsed her hair out she couldn’t take the silence anymore and started talking as a distraction, like she usually did.

“So you guys keep chickens? I’m assuming that’s where the eggs come from?”

Dean nodded. “And one young cow. We found her in the spring. Her mother was nowhere to be seen. So we brought her back to camp. The kids in the camp take it in turns to spend the day gathering grass for her to eat. They pull up buckets of it every day to fill her trough. In return she gives us fertilizer for the crops, and if we can somehow find her a bull next spring she’ll give us milk and more cows too.”

Y/N smiled as she finished her bath, and then ran her hands down her leg to rinse away the last of the soap. “How is it you can manage -”

Y/N stopped talking to let out a scream as her fingers brushed against something slimy on her leg. And then screamed even louder when it brushed over a second one. Before she could let out a third scream, Dean was in the water, having shed everything but his jeans and white t-shirt on the way.

“What’s wrong!” He was yelling as he barreled towards her.

“Something.” She pointed at her leg. “Something’s biting me. Something slimy.”

Dean looked relieved and then annoyed. “For pete’s sake, it’s probably just leeches.”

Y/N stared at him like he was completely insane. “Just. leeches?” She shrieked. “Get them off.”

Dean grabbed her hand and started to pull her out of the water. But she wrapped her other arm over her breasts and dug her heels into the rocky bed of the river. “No, I can’t leave the water. I’m naked.”

Dean spun around to face her. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He dropped her hand and threw up his arms. “You wanna stay in the water with the leeches?”

“Can’t you just pull them off while we’re in the water?”

“No.” Dean said shortly. “I can’t. I have to pry them off gently, meaning I have to be able to see them properly. You may also have leeches other places than just your leg. I need to check you.”

Y/N’s face turned blazing hot, but she decided she was more horrified by the slimy things sucking her blood than by Dean getting up close and personal. So she followed him out of the water to stand on the sandy bank. He walked back to his duffel bag and grabbed a knife. She covered herself with her arms and hands the best she could.

Dean came close and got down on his haunches to work at unsticking the leeches from her thigh. His fingers were warm on her chilled skin, and she knew it wasn’t only the cold breeze that was giving her goosebumps. She peered down at him, admiring the way his long lashes swept downwards as he focused on his task. His white t-shirt was wet and clung to him, outlining the muscles in his back that shifted slightly as he worked.

Thoroughly distracted she didn’t notice the leeches pop off until Dean tossed them back into the river. “K, I’m gonna check for other ones.”

Y/N’s whole body flushed as Dean walked around behind her, scanning all of her looking for more of the parasites. He came around to her right side where her arm was folded over her chest.

“Lift your arm.” He ordered. “They like the soft skin under here.”

With a sigh, Y/N shifted her other arm over her breasts, while crossing her legs to make up for the hand that was no longer covering her below. Then she lifted her right arm and Dean clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, there’s one more here.”

He brought his knife up again, and Y/N tried not to think about the way she could feel Dean’s breath move across the tops of her breast as he pried off the disgusting creature. When it popped off, Dean threw it back into the river and let his other hand trail down to her waist, leaving a fiery trail in his wake.

He moved to the other side and checked too but thankfully there were no more on that side.

Dean waved towards the parts of her that she had covered up. “Do you want to check the rest, just in case?”

He turned his head without being asked and Y/N was grateful as she searched her skin.

“There’s nothing.” She said with relief.

Dean nodded. “Good. Hang on.”

He walked over to his duffel bag and pulled out a towel, also grabbing her clothes that sat beside his bag. He tossed them all to her and then turned away so she could dry herself off and get dressed. She dried quickly, but as she started to pull on her jeans, Dean pulled his wet t-shirt over his head, and pushed off his jeans, treating her to the truly disarming sight of his beautiful bare torso and round, plump ass. His back was bronzed and tan while the fleshy skin of his backside was milky white.

He must have worked outside without a shirt on a lot this summer.

That image left her brain spiraling, and while she was melting into a puddle, Dean pulled a pair of jeans out of his duffle bag and put them on, before slipping his long, muscular arms through the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

He stood quietly for a moment after he was dressed before he called to her without turning around. “Are you dressed?”

Shaking her head like a wet dog, Y/N answered quickly. “Not yet, just give me a minute.”

“Already had a minute.” Dean mumbled.

Y/N hopped into the jeans; they were a size smaller than she normally wore, so they fit a bit snug. She put on the bra that was also a bit too small in the cups, but she wasn’t about to complain about the free, clean clothes, so she just tugged on the t-shirt.

She could practically feel Dean’s impatience as he stood there with his hands on his hips. “I’m finished.” She told him and he finally spun around to face her, his expression annoyed as usual.

He started to say something, but when he caught sight of her, the words seemed to die on his lips. He scanned her from head to toe and Y/N felt her cheeks flame. It was silent between them, but something crackled in the air, hot and vibrant.

Dean took a step closer, and her eyes wandered over his flannel shirt and the way the open sides framed his tanned, broad chest and flat abdomen. She looked at his belly button and the light trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans and she had the sudden urge to lick him, dip her tongue into his belly button, and then…

“Clothes good?” Dean asked, his voice soft and deep.

It took Y/N a solid ten to twenty seconds to figure out what he was talking about. Finally she nodded. “Oh yeah,” she ran a hand over her skin tight jeans, “they’re great.”

“Good.” Dean cleared his throat and nodded his head sideways towards the Jeep. “We should get back.”

The ride back to camp was tense as suddenly Y/N was aware of every move Dean made. She watched his hands on the big Jeep steering wheel and became immediately distracted by them. They moved smoothly, but she remembered the calluses she could feel when he grabbed her wrist, and it made her want to feel them again, feel them in more sensitive places.

The five minute ride felt twice as long on the way back.

When they reached the garage, Y/N practically leapt from the Jeep before it had even stopped fully.

“Well, thanks.” She said in a high pitched, squeaky voice.

Dean followed her silently out of the Jeep and out of the building. When she started back across the camp to her tent though, he called her back.

“Y/N!” She turned around but kept some distance between them. She was honestly afraid of what her addled mind might try if she got too close to him.

Unfortunately, Dean didn’t seem to be suffering from the same problem because he walked right up to her, leaving barely a foot between them.

“Just keep an eye on the bites. Leech bites aren’t usually dangerous, but the itch can be a real pain in the ass. If they get bad, you can go to the medical tent.” She followed his finger as he pointed at the big white tent to her right. “They'll probably have something for you.”

She turned back to face him and her breath caught in her throat. He was so close, and he smelled so good, like gunpowder, fire and something a bit warmer, softer, that she couldn’t place. She stared up into his intense green eyes and her stomach started doing somersaults.

His gaze fell to her lips and for one insane moment, Y/N thought he was going to lean forward and kiss her. But he took a step back, nodded and then turned on his heel and walked away. Y/N stood staring after him for a lot longer than she had any reason to, holding her breath the whole time.

As he disappeared into the main cabin, she exhaled slowly, finally able to admit to herself that she was incredibly disappointed by the kiss that didn’t happen.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@akshi8278

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@deangirl96

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

#dean winchester #endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fan fic #endverse #endverse!dean series

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zootplayz · 3 months

Text

The Trouble With Gnomes

When we left it was Gnome Fest. Wait I mean Harvest Fest. At the time my game was broked and I couldn't actually cook a grand meal so it was technically Gnome Fest for me. Eventually, I did fix the game by finding the non-updated mod and returned Harvest Fest back to normal. But due to the Pancakes disaster with the gnomes I did actually create a Gnome Fest holiday. Therefore, BEHOLD, the origins of the gnomey holiday!

We are now the Gnomes! Since the girls eliminated the gnome opposition they decided to cart the look of the gnomes to prove their dominance.

Everyone at the family get-together knew who the true gnomes of the day were and respected the girls' new position.

However, there were others not so impressed by the girls' new self-confidence.

Graham, my second-generation Fox heir and founder of the Super Sim challenge clan had to show the Pancakes exactly who was in charge in this world. Of course he went after the main perpetrator, Theresa.

I can't even be mad. Graham's got to be at least 200 years old and this is the first time he's attacked one of my other legacies.

He has every right to look as proud of himself as he does. He is the dominant sim in this world. Though I wonder if he wasn't bought off by the gnomes themselves. Bridget got off relatively easy after the gnome night (after all she was just an innocent bystander - dancing in the carnage doesn't mean anything!) So she was further able to pursue her romantic life.

Darling must have awakened something in her because, in a relatively short time, she wanted to make things with Darling official.

Considering how long she was with that other girl and nothing rolled it must be fate. Of course, I immediately moved Darling into the home so she could start aging and they immediately got extra frisky.

All the townie families in my game have a pet because I needed more pets to work on at the Fox clinic. In Darling's case she had an adorable kitty named Kira.

Who I naturally totally love as I do Darling's new makeover.

With Darling joining the house some major things happened. I could no longer stand the sight of that eyesore of a house I built and got the girls a much better home off the gallery. So if you're looking at the backgrounds of these pics and thinking I don't recognize this place, that's why. Now that I think about it, I was initially going to give this house back to a Disney Princess but considering these sims are the only ones to officially live here I think I'll let their family stay here. It'll make more sense for when I get to Tiana claiming her family hasn't accomplished anything. - ramble over Anyway since Bridget has herself an official significant other now it's time to officially cut Andrea loose.

Listen chica this relationship wasn't going anywhere, Bridge just wasn't feeling it. Go enjoy story progression.

Yeesh, someone does not take rejection well. Good thing you got out of that relationship Bridge. Don't let her insanity get to you.

You have the amazing Darling who has some big news for you now that you're officially all theirs.

Seriously, they rolled to marry Bridget almost immediately after Bridget cooled things off with Andrea.

I do love these two together so much. My favorite couple in my legacies at the moment. I find the unflirty sims are the most romantic and devoted once they find the right person.

So when I got control of Darling and saw that chief of mischief aspiration I had to change it. It just did not fit her personality, I felt, so I chose nerd brain. It just screamed Darling to me.

Though the handiness skill definitely needs some serious work.

That's gotta hurt. Darling is an absolute coffee fiend. If there's none in the pot you better be sure they're brewing some up.

However, a contributing factor could be the silly girlfriend's love of snow.

He's missing something... I know! Pancakes! And her insistence everyone else enjoy it as much as her.

Part 01 Part 03 Read the full article

#bobpancakes #bridget #gen01 #gen1 #legacy #pancakes #sims4 #sims4legacy #thesims #thesims4

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stormxpadme · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022 No. 27 - Muffled screams & Stumbling

Thanks to kimikocha for the inspiration for this prompt!

1998

If Jean hadn't been working late once more, she would never have known something was wrong.

She had a funny feeling, that excuse wouldn't be much of a comfort for her partner, sadly, when she would finally make it to their bed at some point, because yes … She had said to him, she would take it a little easier. But she had a big speech at Congress coming up, besides, Hank had given her that research file on fine matter manipulation that she'd really wanted to work her way through while her head was in science space, and … And if she was being entirely honest with herself, she started to feel at home in her office in the sickbay more than in Scott's and her apartment lately. They should probably have talked about that, but discussions with Scott tended to be like pulling teeth without anesthesia, and dental care had always bored Jean to death. It was alright. Things would be fine, in the long run. Sometimes, you just needed a little time apart to remember why you had fallen in love with that charming idiot in the first place. Until then, the sofa in her office was just as comfortable to sleep on. And there, at least it didn't hurt so much when there wasn't even a touch of comfort after a nightmare to find. But stopping by for at least an hour of shuteye and coffee together in bed wasn't asked too much. Maybe they could even start making plans for that summer vacation next year they'd meant to go on for so long. Until then, things between them would surely long have gone back to normal …

There was screaming.

Thinking it had been some animal outside the first time, Jean stopped still in her tracks when there was that muffled, high-pitched sound again. It was coming from the end of the hall reserved for the pupils, where she'd actually only just meant to go for a last control walk before heading upstairs. Now she was glad she'd followed her instincts though it was actually Ororo's turn for the last round, though lights had been out for hours already anyway and except for the nocturnals, no one in this house should be awake right now.

And yet someone clearly was. Namely that shy, strawberry-blond little girl who had moved into that single room over there just a couple of weeks ago, the one that many new students preferred after their arrival until they would be comfortable enough with having company. Charles' very special new charge wasn't there yet. Nightmare, probably. Nothing Jean would usually have intervened with because bad dreams basically came with the welcome package when you mutated, and learning how to deal with them was one of the hardest but necessary lessons to take in this house. But those noises didn't just sound distraught, they were clearly pained.

Damn. "Theresa? Are you alright, sweetie?" When Jean's soft knocking and her shouts, quiet enough to not wake the rest of the pupils nearby, were only answered with loud sobbing, she hastily opened the door and flipped the light switch on, quickly spotting, in the weak shine from the hallway illumination falling in, a fragile figure in white pajamas cowering on the floor next to the bed, clutching their right foot. "Hey, darling, what's wrong? Let me see that?" Kneeling down next to the girl, Jean softly put her arm around their trembling shape, noticing with the never resting eye of profession, the little one had had quite a growth spurt since her father had dropped her in this house not too long ago.

Puberty had hit full force, and early at that. Being basically abandoned two times in a row on top of developing a powerful mutation overnight couldn't have helped the emotional chaos wrecking that young soul. It wasn't the first time, little Miss Cassidy was spending a night in tears.

Only tonight, the occasion was for once not homesickness, yearning for her father or her uncle, in spite of all the latter had done to her, or fear of her own body. It was a couple of worrisome swellings and bruises on Theresa's foot, in combination with two toes standing off at a very unhealthy angle making it easy to guess what had happened.

"I stumbled over my stupid helmet," the girl got out between two sobs, in that choked whisper she was keeping her voice in most of the time. She pointed at said riding cap that she'd apparently kicked under her desk with her fall accusingly. "I thought that thing was supposed to protect me."

Already busy feeling down that injured foot as carefully as possible, Jean had to bite back a grin, in spite of the unpleasant situation, recalling Theresa's and her little discussion about unnecessary safety protocols when Jean had given her first riding lesson in her new home a couple of days ago. "It would if you didn't leave it lying around on the floor. It's just your toes. Your ankle is not broken, I think. Just a pulled tendon. We'll take a look at it in the sickbay, alright? With x-rays and all. I'll give you a pill when we get there, to make it stop hurting."

But when she tried to close her arms tighter around that vulnerable body to lift it in her arms, Theresa unexpectedly pulled away. The girl tried to scoot away from Jean but cried out again immediately when she put just a little weight on her foot, immediately slapping both hands in front of her mouth again to keep those noises in that she was so afraid of. Only when her wide-open eyes darted to the wall for a moment, Jean saw the huge crack in the mirror there that the little one's powerful noises must have accidentally caused. So that was why. "I don't want to," she hissed out with that forced whisper once more, her little hands fists by her side, thick tears continuing to roll down her pale cheeks. "I want my daddy. I want Uncle Tom!"

Jean tried not to wonder with too much bitterness if the girl was talking about the same person with those despaired calls after one of these guys had pretended to be her father for far too long and the other, once he'd learned the truth, was trying to tell himself after just a few months together, it was better for his daughter to not share a life of danger and fighting by his side. Not while she was so young. That she would be far safer with his old team at Westchester here. That might be true, technically, but Jean didn't think Sean, in his ongoing grief for his wife and with his own demons haunting him, had even the slightest idea how much damage this separation was leaving on a soul that was far too inexperienced still to comprehend such heavy considerations, in spite of having been abused for a life of crime by someone who should have been her caretaker the moment she'd been remotely old enough.

That was not Jean's construction site to improve, though. The X-Men's job in this house was only to take care of everyone who came to look for shelter here and to prepare them for a life that would hold oven more rejection and disappointment forthcoming. Sometimes that meant accepting, as much as Jean loved these young people being her responsibility and tried to be there for them with whatever they needed, that there were certain things, her teammates and she could never be and replace for them. Giving up her agitated position of hovering over the girl, to get her to a treatment room as quickly as possible, she sat down for a moment, with enough distance between them to not push her. "I know, sweetheart. He's in Russia right now, though. That's too many hours of flight away even for him to come here quickly. How about we call him though as soon as we're in the cellar? It's already morning in Europe, I'm sure he's awake. He'd want to know that you're not feeling well. You can ask him to come over for the weekend, how does that sound?"

Theresa sniffled a little, still tortured by those nasty injuries and that loneliness haunting her but there was also the faintest bit of hope in her voice when she spoke up again. A notion that Jean could only pray Sean wouldn't be ruining again right away with some lame excuse of the next mission for his team waiting. "Do you think he'd go riding with me? We always went riding when I lived there with him …"

"I'm sure he'll love too. He was always one of our wildest showjumping athletes." Jean had to try hard not to roll her eyes at the memory of the brief time that she'd shared this house with a certain redhead back then, and of the many times Hank and she had had to treat scratches and sprains from some stupid competition, especially on horseback between Scott and that Irish madman. Hopefully, Sean had at least become slightly more responsible in this regard, especially when he would have his little girl in the saddle in front of him. "If you want to ride on the weekend though, we'll have to take care of your toes and your ankle. Will you let me do that, darling?"

After a last moment of hesitation, Theresa let out a very grown-up, unhappy sigh, visibly still afraid of a treatment that might cause her even more pain, but then she reached out her hand to Jean and let herself be picked up without resistance this time. "Do x-rays hurt, Doctor Grey?"

"Not a bit. Pinky promise." Jean pressed a kiss to the little one's temple when she snuggled close to her and closed the door of the room behind her with her powers so none of the kids passing by in the morning would see that damage in the mirror and possibly get scared.

Until Theresa got some practice with keeping that dangerous sonic scream of hers under control, it was just important to help her and everyone else accept these powers as a new part of her, as making sure she could avoid damaging anything and especially anyone with it by accident from now on. Fear never helped with that, only understanding.

"Why didn't you call any of us when you fell, sweetheart?" It wasn't hard to guess but to treat a festering wound always meant reopening it first, no matter how painful that was.

Theresa only hid her face firmer against Jean's shoulder, trembling again immediately. "I can't shout. When I shout, I hurt people."

"That's not true, darling. It all depends on the frequency and the vibration you're using with your vocal cords. That takes a bit of training, but that's what you're here for. And your Dad will also help you master that whenever he has time." Jean softly caressed the girl's back, her messy hair, holding her even closer when she felt the little one trembling from the cool air in the hallway. "Until then, we'll find other ways for you to communicate, so something like this doesn't happen again. I promise."

'Jean? You need a hand?' When the turmoil of worry and sadness in her soul died down a little, Jean suddenly realized, a certain well-known voice had been calling her in their mental link a couple of times already. So much for her partner being fast asleep.

'We're alright. Just a little tape and a brace required. But I'm afraid I'll be caught down here for a while,' she added with a sigh she didn't need to pretend after she'd given Scott a quick summary of the little accident. Relationship issues or not, breaking promises was not something she planned to make a habit, unlike certain ex-members of her team. 'With Hank at that congress in Boston, someone needs to be with her for the rest of the night. I'm sorry. Tomorrow, okay? Try to get some sleep.' There was no more answer which probably shouldn't have surprised her but it hurt more than she wanted to admit. Only by the time she arrived back in her main workspace, she'd managed to suppress that growing frustration and lingering sadness enough to concentrate fully on her job.

But once her little patient's foot was taken care of and Theresa had bravely swallowed her sleeping pill, already half-dozing away, the main entrance door of the sickbay unexpectedly opened and the delicious bitter note of jet-black coffee hit Jean's nose.

A half-exasperated, half-affectionate smile curled on her lips. While she wasn't sure she liked how often her medical advice about getting a good night's sleep was thrown to the winds, she couldn't exactly mind right now. Not when she realized, in spite of all misunderstandings and hurtful distance lately, a certain someone still knew exactly what she needed on nights like this and was more than ready to give it to her even when it wasn't him. "You shouldn't have."

"Couldn't sleep anyway." Scott put the still too-hot coffee down on Theresa's nightstand, with hardly more than a fleeting caress over Jean's shoulder, and pulled up a chair for himself as well. Jean was too tired to wonder if he did it on the other side of the bed on purpose. "Hey there. You know you got a bedside lamp in your room, right? You should try to use it sometime." The tender, amicable smile he regarded the little patient with turned the teasing into a harmless joke that had Theresa chuckle in embarrassment between two yawns. Since Jean had just tried to call her father three times in vain, that was sorely needed right now.

"Will do. Can I skip math tomorrow though, Professor Summers? I mean, I can't even walk, how am I supposed to get to class?" Theresa put on her best pout, pointing at the bandages and band-aids on her foot dramatically.

"Absolutely understandable," Scott answered with serious gravity in his voice, not even moving a muscle while Jean had a hard time keeping her chuckling down. "But if you don't go to school, whom are you going to brag to about this?" Under both Theresa's and Jean's amazed glances, he pulled out a device of plastic and metal from his shirt pocket, with a keyboard and an antenna, almost a little too big and heavy for Theresa's hands still … but definitely the best idea Scott could have come up with to make sure she could get help much faster next time she stumbled over her own feet.

"For me? Really?" With wide eyes, Theresa took the mobile phone in her hands, her face lighting up with excitement. "That's … Wow, that's so cool! None of the others have one! Can you show me how to use it, Professor Summers? I want a really cool ringtone, like in those TV ads!"

"In the morning." Scott watched with an amused smile how Theresa stored her new treasure under her pillow and bent over for a kiss on her forehead. "Rest now. We'll let you know as soon as we've reached your dad."

After that surprise, even the new reminder of her birth family being thousands of miles away right now couldn't bring the little one down again this time; she was far too tired for that, too. Not even half a minute later, she'd finally fallen asleep.

The smile was already slipping from her partner's lips again when Jean regarded him with a grateful nod. He was in a suspicious hurry to get up, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses in a gesture of exhaustion. "Get some rest as soon as Hank is back tomorrow. I'll take over breakfast watch for you." It sounded like an order, not a kind offer. He didn't stop by her chair for as much as a goodnight kiss for her before leaving.

Jean buried her nose in her coffee cup and tried not to cry.

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

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

#no.27 #Muffled screams #Stumbling #x men #Fic #everything after x2 didn't happen sue me #x men original timeline movies #stormys fanfics #long post #jean x scott #theresa cassidy #Scott Summers #Cyclops #whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022

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one-strugling-bean · 2 years

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Finally finished Randy Cunningham's 1st season and I have more thoughts:

-Okay so first off, what's up with the Tengu?? Are we ever gonna find out why the ninja and the bird demon are connected like that? I kinda hope so cause I really love seeing Howard as the Tengu, he looks super cool

-Also, finally heard the first ninja and I love his voice!! It's so nice

-I already know I'm gonna spend the next week keeping myself awake thinking about that one scene in "Sorcer in love 2: Sorceress' Revenge" where Randy throws himself into the Shadow Realm portal with zero hesitation and Howard's reaction to it. Just- the angst potential there!!

-Watching Howard be jealous of the Nomicon will never get old to me

-I whole-heartedly believe the Nomicon does not like Howard either

-They have this hate-hate rivalry that is amazing to watch - fighting for Randy's attention since the beginning of the year

-Also, Randy is a bit of a jelly ninja isn't he? The episode "Nukid on the Block" was something alright

-Howard continues, without a single fail, to be the biggest damsel in distress I have ever seen and I'm here for it

-They keep mentioning his dainty hands and I love it

-I want more Theresa, the girl is so cute and her few interactions with Randy always have that slightly awkward but also sweet tone to them and it's adorable

-I was stolen of Debbie Kang in the latter half of this season and im not happy about it

-Mac Antfee scares me

-After that whole Nomi-Randy thing from "Shloomp! There It Is!" im a little weary of Nomicon too (im pretty sure its not evil tho)

-There's a random cowboy appearing in random scenes in this show and im pretty sure he was the one who gave Randy the mask - I want answers!!

-I love how the show doesn't turn Randy having to transform into the Ninja and his identity being a secret into a big deal like Miraculous does. Like, there's an episode where "to hide away" to transform he just, goes behind Howard and while his bestie transforms, Howard opens his shirt and that's enough. It's really nice not to have to worry about that

-I've been headcanoning about the Miraculous gang meeting Randy&Howard and Co and until now the results are pretty fun

-Also just realised Marinette and Randy share their hair and eye colour, wow

-In case it hadn't been obvious by now I really love Howard

-I love his design and his voice and although im not the biggest fan of the fart jokes, some of his other lines totally compensate for them

-Also, he is a little sibling with a popular older sister so extra points from me there

-Maybe after im done with the show I'll try writing an essay on his relationship with Randy and why I don't think it's toxic and why I love them (hoping their fights don't get worse next season)

-Also also, Randy and Howard could and would sing the song Guy Love by Zach Braff

Anyway, for now, that's all. I'll leave the link to the petition about RC9GN's 3rd season here so you all can sign and share it

Have a cute Howard for safer travels

#rc9gn #randy cunnhingham #howard weinerman #theresa fowler #debbie kang #weinerham #i guess #platonic or romantic #ninja nomicon #review

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dollslayer · 3 years

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Charity Case

Bucky Barnes x Reader, College AU, enemies to lovers

Summary: You loathe Bucky Barnes and his cocky attitude but you find yourself doing him a favor. Is he really as insufferable as he seems?

W/C: 3,830

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, uhhh kissing, that's it!

A/N: Here it is! My entry for @sweeterthanthis Quote Me On It 6k challenge!! My quote was "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?" (in bold). I love the Heathers so I'm excited!! Hopefully I did this prompt justice. As always, if you liked it please reblog/comment! Cheers! I do not consent to my work being reposted/translated on any platform.

Main Masterlist

____

Steve was running late again. You try not to chew your nails off in frustration but he’s definitely testing you. This is the third time in the last two weeks that he’s late to meet you. When he hasn’t been late he’s cancelled all together. Always with a half-ass apology of ‘Bucky needs me’. As if.

You’ve been friends with Steve since your freshman year creative writing class when the only open seat was next to him. Ever since that first day you two had been close. But not as close as him and Bucky. Childhood friends attending university together, thicker than thieves.

You always felt like Bucky was maybe a little jealous of the friendship you and Steve have. Maybe you’re a little jealous too but you’re almost positive Bucky is more jealous of you than you are of him but that’s beside the point. On top of his jealousy Bucky was just annoying. He had a girlfriend but he was always flirting with every girl he met, yourself included. Not to mention he was cocky as all hell.

Steve vouches for his character, swears that it’s all an act and he’s actually very sensitive underneath but you don’t buy it for a second. If you were his girlfriend you’d have dumped him a long time ago.

You don’t have time to dwell on your annoyance too much because Steve is rushing through the doors of the coffee shop. He looks around for you and when he finally finds you the look on his face is relieved. As he gets closer it’s clear that he’d been running to get to you in time. He’s sweaty and a little out of breath and if you weren’t so annoyed with him you’d have found it endearing that he ran here.

“There you are,” he huffs out, “I’m so sorry, I was with Bucky and I lost track of time.”

You purse your lips and hand him a napkin which he takes with a gracious nod before wiping the sweat from his brow. You hand him the iced coffee you’d ordered for him too. The ice is slightly melted from sitting there but he looks so refreshed to be drinking it.

“Figures” is all you say with a huff. If he hadn’t been doing it so often you would’ve been a little kinder about it but you were just irked.

“Seriously, I’m sorry. Nat just dumped him, he's been having a hard time” Steve explained.

“Is it because he flirts with anything that moves?” You scoff.

Steve scoffs in return “He does not! He’s just… outgoing. But no, they had their own problems.” You raise one eyebrow at him. “Okay the flirting had something to do with it but there’s a lot going on there.”

“Whatever, let’s just study for this exam while we can”.

____

You and Steve spent the next two hours cramming for your midterm together. Things were going well and you’d nearly forgotten that you were mad at Steve in the first place. Nearly.

You were so deep into your notecards that you didn’t hear the door open behind you. A voice that could grate on only your nerves. A voice that if it didn’t belong to such a bastard, might even be kinda sexy. The voice breaks your focus completely when it calls out.

“Hey, Steve, are you done already or what? Oh hey, what’s up, beautiful?”

You set your notecards down on the table maybe a little harder than you should. You shoot Steve a glare because you thought it would just be the two of you. Really? You cut in before Steve can answer his friend.

“No, Bucky, he’s not. Can we help you?”

He smirks, giving you his full attention. He knows he has you now, knows you took the bait and he’s goaded you to the point of backtalk. He pulls up a chair to the table and wedges himself tightly between you and Steve. The sound of the chair legs scraping the floor as he scoots closer to you rings in your ears and makes you cringe. You look at Steve again only to find him avoiding your gaze.

“Well, sweetheart, me and Stevie boy here have plans later. Gonna do some gaming and order a pizza, really embracing the bachelor lifestyle.” He raised his eyebrows at this and you just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I heard Nat dumped your ass, actually, is that true?” You asked with a fake sweetness.

“Why, you interested?” He rebuffed.

You bristled at his quick response and muttered your annoyance under your breath. You chose not to respond. Instead you decided to address Steve.

“Steve, I didn’t realize that you had plans”

“Oh… yeah, loose plans…” He answered distractedly while pretending to be reading a text on his phone.

You decide to call it a day. You were getting seriously fed up with Steve’s passive behavior in all of this. Thankfully you didn’t have much to pack up, so once you slung your backpack over your shoulder you looked up at the pair to bid them goodnight.

“Well, Steve, this was… enlightening. Bucky, eat it. Goodnight fellas, have fun with your ‘bachelor lifestyle’” You said with air quotes. Turning on your heel you left before either could respond.

____

You had left the coffee shop that evening pretty upset with Steve. Of course it’s fine for him to have other friends but lately it was like he only cared about Bucky and all of your plans took a backseat to theirs. You decided you weren’t going to be the one to text Steve first, since he was being a bad friend. He could be the one to initiate plans.

He did just that when he caught you in the hallway after your midterm a week later. He jogged up to you once again and tugged on your sleeve to get you to stop.

“Hey, how do you think you did? Bet those notecards paid off, right?” He half-joked. He looked sheepish. Nervous almost. You figured it was because of what happened last time you met.

“Yeah, Jesus Christ! I’ve never been so grateful for little pieces of paper.” You scoffed. You decided to keep it light between you. You were still upset with him but his tone leads you to believe he was gonna apologize.

“Right?” He laughs nervously, “So listen, I know I’ve been kind of a jerk lately… Maybe we could get something to eat at Nick’s?”

Nick’s was the local greasy spoon on campus and they had the best breakfast food you’d ever had. You eyed him suspiciously but accepted.

“Alright, but you’re buying. And there better not be any visitors!” You add as you bound down the hall ahead of him. He knows you mean Bucky and he’s not worried because Bucky won’t be showing up today. He’s more nervous about what he has to ask you.

____

You’re sipping on pop as you play with your straw wrapper. You look up at Steve and notice he’s fidgeting a lot more than usual.

“What’s up? Why are you so twitchy?” You question him.

“Me? I’m not twitchy! I was just thinking that’s all” He quickly defends himself.

“Well that was the last midterm of the semester for both of us, I think it’s safe to say you can relax.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Steve concedes quietly.

You and Steve eat in near silence, neither of you mind though because it’s comfortable. You worked on your hashbrowns when you looked up and noticed that Steve had barely touched his food. He was still fidgety, he looked nervous.

“Hey, you’ve hardly eaten anything, what’s the matter?”

He looks a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught. Or like he’s about to come clean about something.

“Look, I wanted to say sorry I know I haven’t been the best friend lately with everything going on with Bucky. He really is having a hard time since the breakup y’know… he’s lonely”

“Right” You laughed, “I’m sure he’s soo lonely.” You rolled your eyes and picked up your fork.

“No really, he just needed a friend to be there. I think he does need to get back out there though.”

“With how smooth he thinks he is, I'm sure he’ll have a date by the end of the night. I wouldn’t worry about it, Stevie.” You responded.

“I’m serious! As much of a player as he comes off he needs to be with someone he already knows. He’s actually really sensitive.” You interrupted with another laugh. There were many choice words you’d use to describe Bucky Barnes but ‘sensitive’ is not one of them.

“But anyway, I was...kinda hoping you’d do me a favor…” Steve trails off.

Based on the conversation you just had you’re cautious. You eye him warily but motion for him to continue.

“Well, like I said Buck’s having a hard time and he needs to get back out there but he doesn’t feel comfortable hooking up with a stranger. I was thinking maybe.. You guys should hang out?”

Steve refused to look at you as he finished the question. The look on your face was a look of confusion and shock.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Do I look like Mother Theresa?” you asked in disbelief. “I mean seriously, I’m nice but not that nice.”

“Look-”

“No!” You cut him off, “You know I can’t stand that prick. Also why would I want to put myself on the long list of women he’s probably tried to fuck? I don’t buy this whole ‘sensitive’ thing for a minute.”

“I’m serious, Nat kinda crushed his heart when she left. He acts cocky but it’s a front. I just think he needs to see someone to get it out of his system. You’ve got more in common than you think. Just hang out with him once. Don’t think of it like a date, just a really really big favor. Please?” Steve begged.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “You. Owe. Me. So. Much”

“Really?” He asked hopefully.

“Really. But I’m not gonna bang him. Hard no on that” you said.

“Yeah, yeah of course! No problem! I’ll give Bucky your number!” He reached across the table and grabbed your hand. His hands were kidna clammy but you let him.

“Seriously, thank you. I know you think he’s some jerk but I promise he’s a good guy.” Steve adds, “A-and don’t think of it as like a date, even, y'know? I think honestly he could just use another friend. Think of how good it could be if we could all hang together some time?”

You shook your head and chuckled at his optimism while you stabbed another bite of your meal.

____

‘What’s up, sweetface?’ Gross.

‘Okay, sorry. Hi, how are you?’ Better.

‘I’m alright, you?’

‘Good. Steve tells me you’re a huge trivia nerd. Wanna go to Sally’s tn?’

‘It’s a date’ Shit. Didn’t mean to say that. Fuck. Quick- say something that will deflect before he responds!

‘And since it’s a date you’re paying’ That’ll have to do.

‘Ugh fine. Here’s hoping you’re a cheap date at least. I’ll meet you there at 9’

____

What do you wear for a date with someone that you despise? It’s just bar trivia so it’s nothing special but somehow the jeans and flannel you’ve been wearing all day don’t feel like they make the cut. You rip your closet apart trying to find something before you settle on black skinny jeans and your favorite sweater with some boots. Casual but not too casual.

You spend the whole walk there dreading the night ahead of you. Knowing that you wouldn’t even have Steve as a buffer between you made the whole evening seem daunting. At least you had trivia to distract you. You decide to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt tonight for Steve’s sake. You try to remember Steve’s insistence that Bucky’s a good guy and you have a lot in common. We’ll see about that.

When you arrive at the bar you find Bucky already waiting for you at a high-top table with two PBRs and a shot of brown liquid. Please don’t let that be whiskey. He sees you coming and smiles that damn-his-good-looks smile at you while patting the open chair next to him. The closer you get you even see that he got the whiteboard already for trivia.

“Please tell me that’s not Jameson or Fireball” you greet him.

He laughs a little and shakes his head. “Better - it’s Jack. Sorry, doll, but I already opened the tab. This is what we’re drinking” He nudges one of the shots closer to you and motions for you to pick it up. “Come on, we gotta start the night off right, bottoms up!”

Before you can gag at the thought of drinking whiskey you grab the glass and face him. You both knock your shots on the table before clinking them together and swallowing them in one go. You grimace at the taste and feel the warmth flow all the way down your throat. You quickly take a sip of your beer to rid yourself of the taste.

“Aww, you’re cute when you’re grossed out.” Bucky coos at you.

You’re embarrassed and annoyed but it goes away quickly.

“Shut up, Barnes”

You give him a light shove and he pretends like he’s about to fall off his stool, making you laugh. For someone that’s only ever annoyed you he’s doing a pretty bang-up job of being likeable when it’s just the two of you.

“You ready for me to carry you through some trivia?” You joked.

“Hey, now! I know...stuff” he concluded.

“Mmhmmm, I’m sure you do. Don’t worry, I’ll answer the questions and you just sit there and look pretty” you reach over to pat his face lightly with a wink.

Bucky grumbles before taking another sip of his beer.

You settle in for a long night when the host announces the first round is starting.

____

You managed to steal the first round without breaking a sweat, second round was a little rocky until it came down to you and one other couple. You knew the third round would be tricky but the way Bucky was cheering you on you were determined. To no one’s surprise Bucky had been completely useless so far but to his credit he was trying. At least he was a supportive teammate.

Things were going well until the third round was announced: Old School Videogames. You didn’t know shit about old school videogames. Or regular videogames. The extent of your video game knowledge started and ended with Mario Kart.

When the third round was announced though Bucky hit the table in excitement and cheered.

“Woo! Fuck yeah!” He pats you on the shoulder, “I got this, don’t worry. I so fuckin’ got this!”

He was a few drinks deep but he was so confident and he was your only hope so you went with it. He looked like a little kid the way he was practically giddy.

“You had better! There’s some serious prize money riding on this round.” You said in warning.

“No, no. You don’t understand that I’ve GOT this. Your turn to look pretty, not that it’s gonna be all that hard for you, sweetface” Bucky grinned at you over his beer as he took another sip.

Your cheeks felt heated and you tried your best to hide it by taking another drink yourself. Bucky’s flirting has never worked until now. Must be the alcohol.

“Shut up, Barnes” you mumble.

“Y’keep saying that but what I really think you mean is ‘I love you, Bucky you’re so strong and handsome~’” He imitated in a high pitched feminine voice.

You shoved him for real and before you could say anything else the third round was starting.

____

Bucky wasn’t kidding when he said he had this. He had won the round in a clean sweep and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed. Who knew this man harbored so much videogame trivia? When the host handed you the prize money he just waggled his eyebrows as if to say See?

“I gotta hand it to you, Barnes, I had no idea you had that much videgame wisdom rolling around up there. The only videogame I ever play is Mariokart so I’d be toast without you.”

“Mariokart? That’s it?? No problem, doll. It was nice to contribute.” He chuckles at that.

You divvied the money up and handed him his half.

“Guess I’m not such a cheap date afterall, huh?”

He chuckled as he took his half from you.

“I’m gonna go pay the tab with our winnings, I’ll be back”

You picked up your phone while you waited for him to find some missed texts from Steve.

‘How’s it going?’ ‘Are you guys doing okay?’ ‘I haven’t heard anything so I’m assuming you haven’t killed each other. Have fun, text if you need a ride home.’

You almost rolled your eyes at Steve’s insistence but found yourself smiling instead. You’d text him back when you got home.

Bucky was walking up to you once more and you smiled at him slightly.

“You said you’re good at Mariokart?”

“I didn’t say I was good at Mariokart, I said that I played it. Why?”

“Well I was thinkin’ maybe we could go back to mine and I could whoop your butt”

You weren’t going to say yes but now he was goading you and you took the bait without hesitation.

“Oh, you’re on, Barnes. You’re so, so on.”

His smile grew wider when he heard your response. With that he placed his hand on your lower back and ushered you out of the bar.

____

You played two tournament cups worth of Mariokart and Bucky had indeed whooped your butt. You don’t know why you were surprised, with how much gaming he and Steve do it’s no surprise he’s a natural. You still had fun though. Just when you were about to propose a third round Bucky got up and headed to the kitchen without a word.

He came back with two glasses of water and handed you one. He sat down on the floor next to you and you set down your controller.

“Here, drink up.”

You were taken aback a bit by the kind gesture but accepted the glass just the same.

“Thank you, I might regret saying this but, you’re not so bad when you’re not being insufferable, Barnes”. You told him

He smiled and shook his head as he drank his water.

“Thanks, I guess”

“How come you can’t be like this all the time? When it’s just the two of us you’re so kind and you’re even… I don’t know, funny maybe. Why do you get all cocky whenever else I see you?”

He looked down into his glass at your comment and you watched his brows crease in thought.

“I don’t know, it just sort of… happens, whenever I’m around other people I don’t know that well. I don’t mean to be a dick or anything but it’s like I can’t help myself. People expect me to be a certain way and I can’t help but fall into it sometimes. Nat hated that about me, it’s part of the reason why she dumped me, actually”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. And I’m sorry about the breakup, too. I know you guys were together for a while.” Bucky only shrugged at this and downed the rest of his water.

“It is what it is. I’m ready to be over it, I’m getting there slowly but surely. I gotta say, you’re not so bad either when you’re not getting all defensive and in my face. You’re actually pretty funny”

Your turn to become flustered at a personal analysis.

“Thanks, I guess I don’t mean to be so defensive either, it's just my response to most other people. I feel myself slip into it and it can’t be helped.” You explained.

Bucky nods at you, not knowing entirely what to say in response.

“I like spending time with you” He says leaning closer to you.

You swallow thickly, not sure what to make of what you feel knowing his face is so close to yours.

“I… like spending time with you too. You’re not what I thought.”

“Me neither,” he shakes his head, “You’re something else.”

With that he leans his head closer to yours and you feel yourself close your eyes and move your lips to slant perfectly into his. You’re kissing Bucky Barnes. The Bucky Barnes you can’t stand. That Bucky Barnes. You’ve decided that his tongue feels too good in your mouth to care now.

His hands come to frame your face and bring you in closer. His hands are warm and calloused but they feel like comfort. You can’t help but to melt. You moan into his mouth and it seems to spur him on. He pulls you into his lap and you let out a noise of surprise that’s muffled by his mouth on yours.

Your hands come to caress his sides and you take your time feeling every muscle and ridge. Your hands idly make their way under the hem of his shirt and his skin is just as smooth as you’d expect. He sighs into your mouth and it takes all of your strength not to fall apart right there. You feel yourself getting lightheaded and have to pull away for air. When you do you rest your forehead against his and the only sound is both of your breathing.

You finally brave a look at him and he has the softest smile on his lips.

“Sorry, doll, didn’t mean to get so carried away but I’ve been waiting for a long time to do that.”

This catches you off guard.

“You have? Wait, did you like me? But you flirt with everyone!” You explain.

“With you, I flirt with you. You just can’t stand me” he laughs out, “Nat dumped me for a couple reasons but that’s one of them she told me I needed to get my priorities straight and I gotta say, I’m thankin’ her for sayin’ it ‘cause she was right.”

You don’t know what to say or what to make of any of this. All you know is that you want to kiss him again, so you do. You grab him by the collar and pull him into you again. He lets out a startled noise but kisses you back all the same.

You don’t care what you used to think of Bucky Barnes and you don’t care about what’ll happen after today. Right now all you care about is feeling him in sync with you for the first time. You could live in this moment forever but right now will have to do.

#quotemeonit6kchallenge #bucky barnes x reader #college AU #college!bucky x reader #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel one shot #bucky barnes imagine #enemies to lovers

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whisperofsong · 2 years

Text

Among The Stars

Chapter Five

Pairing: Riff x Latina! Reader

Summary: An explosive event following the dance leads Olivia to question her choices.

*Disclaimer: Please note the inclusion of a racial slur along with some language in this chapter. Thank you for taking the time to read my work and, as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming chapters. Love you all!

____________________________________________

When I wake up the following morning, I’m eager to leave my bed. My face almost looks as if it is glowing and my eyes are sparkling. As I exit my bedroom, my steps feel lighter and I can’t help but smile as I grab some items from the refrigerator.

“Ahi esta mi chica!” (There’s my girl!) “That’s a big smile this early in the morning, Olivia,” remarks Papi, mildly amused as well as suspicious.

“I just…slept really well,” I reply, hoping my answer is convincing enough. Papi squints, but doesn’t press me for further information.

He quickly downs the remainder of his coffee, kisses my cheek, and heads out the door, en route to his job. While I normally view getting ready for work as a mundane task, it doesn’t have the same effect on me this morning. I absentmindedly put on my uniform, humming to myself throughout this process.

Just as I’m about to leave, Mama calls from her bedroom. “Olivia, ven aqui, por favor.” (Come here, please.)

Once I’m standing in the entrance of her bedroom, she asks, “How was the dance? You haven’t said a word, mija.” I bite my lip, reluctant to respond as I don’t want to lie, yet simultaneously recognize I can’t tell her the truth.

“It was memorable, Mama.” I nod after I say this, as if I’m confirming my fabricated story. Mama gives me a faint smile, pleased with my answer.

“Did you dan-“

“I better get going,” I interject. “I don’t want to be late to the diner.”

“Si, si, of course. Estar segura!” (Be safe!)

____________________________________________

It’s a typical Saturday at the diner, marked by the bustling of waitresses, cooks, and customers alike, all engaged in endless activity. As the day winds down, I’m counting money in the register when Bernardo, the revered and confident leader of the Sharks, walks into the diner. Although I don’t consider him a friend, we talk from time to time and he’s always kind to me.

“Hola, Olivia.” Bernardo takes a seat at the counter, watching me intently.

“Hi, Bernardo. It’s nice to see you.” He nods, but doesn’t respond. I make another attempt at small talk.

“Can I get you something? Coffee? Water?”

He quickly shakes his head and folds his hands, slightly leaning forward, as though he’s about to launch into a serious conversation.

“Olivia, I want to talk to you about something and I want you to listen. Okay?”

“Okay…” I say, uneasy with his introduction.

“At the dance last night, I saw you…dancing with that heinous gringo.” His face contorts into a grim expression, struggling to continue. “Do you have any idea who he is?” Bernardo grimaces, waiting for an answer.

I gulp and return my gaze to the register. I decide to be honest with him. “Yes. He’s the leader of the Jets.”

His eyes squint in disbelief and disgust. “So you know who he is and what he’s about, yet you danced with him anyway? He despises our people, Olivia! Not a day goes by that he doesn’t remind our community of that. How could you betray us?!” His cheeks turn a deep shade of red and his breathing becomes more rapid.

As I glance at the clock, I realize my shift is up and because Theresa owes me, it’s her turn to close.

I shuffle past him so that I’m facing him from the other direction. “Look, I know it seems that way, Bernardo. Trust me, I know about his history and…I know…he’s not always a good guy, but-“

Bernardo cuts me off mid sentence. “Always?! Try never. You’re so naive, Olivia.” He runs his hands through his hair, visibly frustrated.

I scoff at his description of me. ��I’m leaving.” Despite my attempt to shirk the conversation, he follows me out the door.

“Olivia, we’re not finished!” he says, grabbing my elbow in the process.

“Hey!” I hear a voice call in the distance and realize it’s Riff. This night couldn’t get any worse, I think to myself, wanting to vanish.

Riff walks towards us at a clipped pace and once he reaches us, he comes face to face with Bernardo. “Get your hands off of her,” he demands.

Bernardo laughs dismissively. “The badass Jet leader coming to a Puerto Rican’s defense? I must be dreaming.”

“Keep it up and you will be dreaming. I’ll knock ya out,” Riff declares, unwilling to back down.

“Like you need an excuse,” Bernardo spits. “You’re full of hatred. All you Jets are.”

Riff smirks and leans in closer to Bernardo. There’s something in Riff’s eyes that suggests he’s about to do something stupid. “You’re right,” Riff concedes. “I do have a lotta hate in me. But you know what’s at the top of my list? You and those other lousy Spics of yours.”

Bernardo punches Riff directly in the jaw and Riff tackles him to the pavement. I gasp, unable to process the sight before me, both appalled and scared. The shrill sound of a police whistle is heard as Officer Krupke bolts toward us. As soon as he’s within grabbing distance, he tears the boys apart.

“Enough!” Officer Krupke shouts, clutching his chest and panting heavily. “Go home. Both of yas.”

Bernardo and Riff both look at me, wearing different expressions. Bernardo wears one of frustration and anger while Riff wears a pained expression. Tears begin to well in my eyes. Riff extends his hand towards me, but I push him with such force, he stumbles to the ground, staring at me wide eyed.

“Stay away from me! You are a vile human!” I scream, not caring who hears me. Bernardo’s eyes remain on me, watching the situation unfold.

“Olivia, pl-“

“No,” I cut Riff off, my voice cool. “We’re finished.”

Bernardo intervenes. “Let me walk-“

“I’m walking home alone,” I assert. “Goodbye, both of you.”

I turn on my heel and trudge down the sidewalk, experiencing an overwhelming mixture of anger, disappointment, and hurt. The euphoric high I experienced this morning is nothing compared to the crashing low I’m feeling now.

When I arrive home, I find a note on the kitchen table, stating that Mama and Papa are helping our neighbors and should be home soon. I’m grateful to be alone so that when I flop onto my bed, feeling dejected, I can sob into my pillow and leave my bedroom door wide open, without worrying about anyone hearing my broken cries.

____________________________________________

When I hear the key turning in the lock of the front door, I quickly turn off my bedside lamp and look at my alarm clock. The artificial light shows 10:17. I have been crying for two hours and can feel the puffiness around my eyes. If my parents were to see me, they would realize I was crying and bombard me with questions.

Upon seeing the darkness in my bedroom, they quietly close the front door and whisper to each other.

“Poor thing,” sighs Papi. “Our girl works so hard.”

“At least she can sleep in tomorrow,” reasons Mama.

They both creep into my room, leaning down to lightly kiss the top of my head. I focus on keeping my breathing even to display a convincing facade that I’m fast asleep. When I hear my bedroom door click shut, I turn to lie on my back and open my eyes, staring into the darkness.

All night, I toss and turn, unable to fall asleep as I ruminate over the distressing events of the previous day. When I look at my alarm clock again, it’s 1:42 in the morning. Most of the city is in a deep slumber, ensconced in a tranquil state, while I’m wide awake.

I had just closed my eyes again, making yet another attempt to get some rest, when I hear something light against my window. I ignore it until the sound continues, creating a sort of rhythm. I sit up and make my way towards the window, wondering what is responsible for the somewhat irksome sound. When I glance out my window, a figure is standing right below it, throwing pebbles against it. You’ve got be kidding me, I think bitterly.

I turn on my lamp and shove my window open, poking my head out of it. Riff looks so small from this perspective as well as troubled and crestfallen. I glare at him, unwilling to speak first, seeing as how he came to see me.

“Olivia, please talk to me. I need you to hear me out.”

I just stare at him, refusing to succumb to his plea. Why should I?

“Please come down. I’m not leaving until you do.” I contemplate this. Although Riff could be bluffing, I wouldn’t put it past him to stand there all night. My neighbors would have a field day talking about this in the morning!

Without saying a word, I shut my window, put on my robe and a pair of flats, and walk downstairs to meet him outside. Once I’m outside, he perks up, but just as he’s about to speak, I interrupt him.

“You’ve got some gall to come here, Riff, and make demands of me when you’re the one who acted despicably. There is nothing you can say that will excuse your actions tonight. I’m disgusted to even be in your presence right now,” I spit, meaning every word.

“I’m sorry, Olivia. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

I scoff. “You’re only sorry because I witnessed it! God only knows what hateful words you hurl at others when I’m not around, the things you steal, the property you deface, the people you assault! I’ve been right all along, Riff. I was beginning to think I had been wrong to make a snap judgement about you, but I wasn’t-you proved me right. You’re an impulsive, racist, and selfish guy.”

Riff recoils as if I had slapped him, as if my words hurt more than any physical act ever could. He reaches out to touch my hand, but I yank it away from him.

“When I called Bernardo and the Sharks Sp-you know, you weren’t included in that. I swear!”

“Just the rest of the Puerto Rican community, right?” I reply sourly.

Riff tugs at his hair and starts pacing in a frenzied manner. “I know I do shitty things and act stupid, but being with you isn’t a joke to me! I really like you and care about you. I’ll admit that at first, I enjoyed teasing you and pushing your buttons, but then…I don’t know.” He pauses briefly, collecting his scattered thoughts.

“I realized I was starting to have feelings for ya and I just…I screwed up, Olivia. I screwed up and I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. You need to understand that my life is a mess. My mom was the only person who cared about me and after she died, my dad didn’t give a shit. There were nights he wouldn’t even come home and I was a scared kid, not knowin’ what to do! Other nights, he’d come home drunk and take his anger out on me. Sometimes, I’d just cower in the corner in my room, thinking that if I got in this position, maybe he’d spare me. But he didn’t. All I had were the Jets, the one constant in my life along with this place. But then the neighborhood started changin’ and it felt like another thing was bein’ taken from me…” He sighs in an exaggerated manner.

Despite his visible exhaustion, he continues. “But then we met and I felt differently. For the first time in my life, I looked forward to waking up in the morning and the diner that once meant nothing to me became sacred because that’s where I could find you. And then the dance…”

Riff’s voice trails off as he runs his hand through his hair. I’m staring at him intently, unable to pull my eyes away from him.

He exhales loudly before saying, “When I saw you at the dance, I didn’t care about anyone else there. I suddenly found myself getting annoyed with everyone else because I wanted you and I to have that gym, that night to ourselves. And that damn laugh, Olivia. Christ. If I could hear one sound for the rest of my life…your laugh would be it.” I realize his eyes have become glossy and his eyes are gazing at me imploringly.

I want to slap him because as much as I try to dislike him in this moment, his soliloquy has only magnified my feelings for him. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from this broken man, who is practically offering me his heart, vulnerable as ever. I fight back my own tears and muster my composure.

“Riff, I can accept that you’ll make mistakes, but what happened tonight isn’t a mistake because you meant what you said. Maybe it’s wrong of me to expect you to change, but it’s equally wrong of you to expect me to accept this. I can’t and I won’t,” I say, my faltering voice betraying me.

“Olivia…”

My voice continues to wobble, but I don’t let that impede what I’m about to say. “I won’t lie and act like I don’t have feelings for you because I do. You’re the last person I ever expected to like, but here I am, standing in my robe at 2 a.m., crying in front of you like a pathetic girl.” My voice breaks and I laugh bitterly, the tears causing my vision to blur.

Riff stares at me, but doesn’t say a word.

“I just can’t do this with you, Riff. But it’s okay,” I finalize, wiping away my tears. “Because you’ll meet some other girl and she’ll fit in your world better than I ever could.” I give him a solemn smile and begin to turn away. Riff takes me by surprise when he grabs me and turns me to face him.

“No,” he barely chokes out, his voice catching in his throat. “You can’t just…we…”

I shake my head, hot tears streaming down my face more rapidly than ever.

“I hate that I’m the reason behind your tears,” he whispers, wiping my tears away, but they keep falling.

I turn my head to the side and close my eyes, refusing to look at him.

“Olivia…you’re breaking my heart. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re breaking yours, too.”

I shake my head lightly and gently remove his hands from me. “No. You broke my heart all on your own,” I whisper. Without delaying it, I skip up the stoop steps, letting the door slam shut behind me.

When I’m back in my bedroom and peer out my window, Riff is gone. As though he was never there…almost as if he was an apparition, one that will likely haunt me for the rest of my life.

@inkandpen22 @riffheartsgraziella @loverisi @graziellalovesriff @sondheim1fan @ilovey0us0 @grxceordxr @dellaspinstales @jillo0315 @drowninginaseaofbooks @theforgottenmcrmy @shitemylife @disguisedbassethound

#west side story 2021 #riff #latina #mike faist #west side story fanfic

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