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calaofnoldor · 3 years

Text

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you��ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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wangshuus · 3 years

Text

no love left | diluc ragnvindr

pairing: diluc ragnvindr/gn. reader

genre: angst

wc: 3.2k

cw: mild cussing, brief mentions of violence, probably lore breaking too lol.

summary: falling out of love is painful but maybe it’s what you needed.

note: please read the authors note after the story ESPECIALLY if you’re confused because i’ve implemented a few odd aspects into this story. i was just typing out whatever so essentially it’s more word vomit (again lol) but uhh yeah. most of the important stuff is at the bottom so like i said before, read that authors note at the end!!

lightly proofread, please don’t mind any errors

fic below the cut.

When the esteemed bachelor Diluc Ragnvindr finally settled down with a lover, the news did not fail to spread across Mondstadt like a wildfire. It was the talk of town for who knows how long but as time passed, the people settled down and the buzz eventually died but no one ever failed to acknowledge the young Ragnvindr and his beloved when they were together. Although the two preferred to keep a composed look to the public eye, the admiration they held for each other burned as bright as a summers day in their eyes at all times when they were together; from that alone, anyone could tell they were in love

So where did it all go wrong?

You sat across from Diluc at a table in the winery, the air thick with a suffocating tension that felt like it was going to swallow you whole at any minute now. Your hands rested on the table in front of you as you barely managed to keep your hands from trembling as a storm of emotions stirred inside of you as you felt your composure on the brink of cracking any second. You decided to finally break the silence as you spoke up, a slight tremble in your voice.

“What is it Diluc? Huh? I was hoping you’d have the decency to speak up about whatever the hell is going on instead of leaving me in the dark but it’s been far too long now. Now tell me Diluc, what’s going on?”

Oh the way your words slipped from your mouth made the room feel so cold, even if you didn’t wield a vision of any sorts. Diluc took a deep breath before he decided to speak up.

“What went on between the two of us was purely business.” Was the simple statement he gave.

Was?

“They’ve shown themselves to be quite the individual, wielding good etiquette with both business and a weapon.” He spoke out once more.

“God sake Diluc you’re fucking stalling at this point. You know what, I’ll make it easier for you. Do you still love me?”

There was a pause. A long painful pause. You already had your answer.

“(Y/n), I still care for you more than you can ever imagine, I truly do.”

The words felt like knives piercing through your form and from that, you felt the first tear slip down your face.

“Diluc, are you even aware of how terrible I feel in this situation right now? I’m watching my lover from a far doing lord knows what and you expect me to just tolerate it? I trusted you enough which is why I never pried at it but fuck Diluc, it’s just unbearable at this point.”

“I never did act upon anything in fears of making the situation worse--” You cut him off.

“Making the situation worse huh? So you were out here trying to do some crowd control weren't you? Was if for the sake of not hurting me or or for the sake of not tainting your pristine reputation?”

“I said before, I really do care for you still.” His hand reached towards your own as he held your hand with utmost gentleness. You were almost convinced he still loved you as much as he did in the past.

“However, I can’t deny that our dynamic has indeed changed. I…” His grip on your hand tightened.

“I can’t lie to you and say that I love you the way I did before.”

There it was.

“You don’t look at me the way you used to, you know? Your eyes used to be so full of love whenever you looked at me but that look is reserved for someone else now, isn’t it? You’ve looked at me with nothing but sorrow and pity nowadays and I guess my assumptions of the worst were correct.” You said as your voice trembled even more.

You wanted to pull your hand away so badly, the hand that once brought you such warmth now felt as if it was searing your skin. But you couldn’t. Not when this was mostly likely the last time you’d ever feel such an intimate touch from him. You found yourself to be conflicted as to whether you wanted to pull away out of pure frustration or savour the moment as it could be the last of him you would ever get to have for yourself.

“(Y/n), from the bottom of my heart, I’m truly sorry. I’ve loved you for so long and you’ve given me more love than I could’ve ever imagined. I never wanted things to change but I suppose fate had other plans. I’ll never stop caring for you however, I’m afraid I’ve stopped loving you in the way you’re used to.”

The truthful words were ones that felt like hell to swallow. You didn’t want to believe it but you knew damn well he was telling the truth. The sincerity and softness in his voice made it so hard to be completely mad at him. He was so gentle with his words but the truth of them did nothing but make your heart hurt and ache. An empty chuckle left your lips as your features were now graced with a bittersweet smile.

“Ah, I think I would’ve appreciated it if you were meaner with your responses. Maybe then I wouldn’t have such a hard time letting you go.” You finally managed to look him in the eyes, his reflection showing on your glossy orbs.

He felt his own heart churn with remorse and guilt, seeing as he terribly hurt the one person that he had sworn to love and protect for the rest of his days. He felt sick over the fact he failed to keep part of the promise-- the part where he said that he would continue to love you.

That was one of the last times you had ever seen Diluc Ragnvindr.

Your body shook as the freezing temperatures of Dragonspine overtook your senses. You sat up against a rock, your back leaning onto it as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You were barely holding on by a thread as you physically felt numb. However, your mind swirled with a storm of emotions, almost as strong as the last day you had seen your ex-lover but this time, you reminisced on your time as you felt like this would be your final moments.

You pondered over the fact that this might’ve been the reason that he no longer loved you in the way you wished to be loved by him. You wanted his affections, you wanted his love, you wanted him. But you were too weak. That was it. He let you go for someone that was strong, so very strong; both mentally and physically. God, you couldn’t even compare to the likes of them, being nothing but a measly old adventurer, one that wasn’t even fortunate enough to wield a vision. You were nothing but weak in your own eyes; that's what brought you to your demise.

In your hands, you clutched one of the last treasures you had found in the cursed mountains. It was a pretty little collar that held a jewel that twinkled so beautifully despite the dull, hazy environment.

“You do not wish to be weak anymore do you, little one? Do not be afraid, put me on and I’ll grant you the desires you so wish to obtain. Abide by my rules and obtain for me the essence of life and together, we can make sure that everyone will hail before you.”

A voice echoed inside your head as your mind began to spiral. All morals, memories and feelings began to drown out until you were barely hanging on by thread.

“Hurry, time is of the essence! Quick!”

With little energy you had left, you were able to hang the new found possession around your neck. The second you let go of the clips that held the piece together, you felt a tight constriction around your neck, the feeling was suffocating. Just like the last time you had seen Diluc. For a moment, you thought of the red haired male you once held to dear and close to your heart. It ached for him once more in that very moment because he was the very essence of warmth and it was something that you so desired in such a moment like this. The way he held you against him in the coldest of nights in an attempt to keep you warm and oh how it worked wonderfully. It was a memory that slowly faded away with your conscience. Your hands graced themselves lightly around your neck as you struggled to breathe even more than before, your body finally running out of any sort of energy as you fell limp against the cold and soft snow.

Anything. From this point on, you would do anything to get stronger. You no longer cared for any mishaps that happened along the way. You had no love left, nothing but the hunger for power that drowned out the aching void that was now left behind after everything was torn away from you.

“Sorry... to also have you shoulder the grievances of the world. Since you could endure my bitter cold, you must have the desire to burn? Then, burn away the old world for me.”

Within the bustling harsh winds of the Dragonspine mountains laid a girl with a jewelled necklace as well as a cold, icy blue orb that shined brightly against the blizzards.

“The expedition out in Dragonspine was a complete disaster! The winds were harsher than usual and how could we predict such a nasty storm would’ve been upon us? We planned so far ahead and yet it ended up utterly terrible.” One of the adventurers commented as they were in the process of recovering after descending from the unforgiving mountains.

“Did everyone that went on the expedition come back? There’s absolutely no way we can risk going up there again, at least not for a while.” Another commented.

There was an excruciating silence within the camp.

“Has anyone seen (Y/n)?”

Diluc had set out once the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning came upon him. He continued to lurk from the shadows and deal with whatever trivial matters that had to be dealt with in the dead of night as he always did. He had heard of a few nuisances that arose near the outskirts of Dragonspine that hadn’t been dealt with yet. Of course the knights wouldn’t bother with this anyways, as per usual what he thought to himself.

Though the male held a pyro vision, the sharp and bitter cold of Dragonspine was something that never failed to make him uncomfortable.

He swiftly made his way to the location, being stealthy and fast with his movements in an attempt to get the job done faster to refrain from being caught. Once he had made his way to the destination, he remained hidden while he examined the area. In the far distance, he saw camps, hilichurl as well as Fatui camps that were not too far off. His face held a look of distaste as his eyes laid upon the familiar trademark symbol of the Snezhnayan organization.

Just as he was about to step out and deal with the hilichurl camp himself, a figure emerged from afar and into the camp. The movements of said person were agile, fast and swift, ice shards being directed in the direction of every living being on the camp. A blizzard stirred so fiercely upon the camp and as the barbaric bitter winds of the snow died down, there was almost nothing left of the camp that once stood there.

Not a single soul.

Diluc very cautiously moved closer to get a better look at the strange person that appeared before him. His eyes widened in disbelief as he started to make out the figure, his mind refusing to believe what he saw in front him, almost regretting letting his curiosity get the best of him.

“I wasn’t aware that you people are unable to take care of a measly little hilichurl camp. I specifically stated to clear the area before anything else and you couldn’t even follow instructions as simple as that, or perhaps I wasn’t clear enough with my statement?” An icy voice boomed out towards a trio of Fatui skirmishers.

That voice was all too familiar to Diluc. It was so familiar yet it sounded so different, so harsh, so cold. Yet, it was the voice that confirmed his unruly suspicions.

“Make up for your poor performance by getting the camps set up in a decent manner at the very least. I’d rather spare myself the trouble of punishing the likes of you people. You don’t wish to cross me any further, do you?” A cold, hard glare very evident on your fact that was directed to the three in front of you.

They frantically shook their heads, sputtering out a series apologies in an attempt to ease your annoyance.

“Make use of yourselves and set up immediately. By the time I come back to supervise the area, everything should be set up in a manner that is nothing less than perfect. If you wish to please me this time, do as you’re told this time. Now go.” You shook them off with a wave of a hand as they saw themselves away in an instant.

You took your time to avoid the now empty camp that rid itself of almost all remains. A hand placed itself atop the jewel that gracefully sat between your collarbones. The voices that swirled in your head chanting for more power and more life eventually died down as the constrictions of your beloved collar began to loosen, just enough so you could breathe. You let out a breathe that you had been holding before regaining your composure. You stood up straight with a proud stature before speaking out.

“I know you are there, may as well come forth voluntarily unless you want be to bring you out myself.”

Diluc’s blood ran cold when he realized that that you were most likely referring to him, baffled at how you were able to pick up on his own presence. He cautiously revealed himself and made his way a little closer to you. The second you laid eyes on the redhead, you felt like your world stopped for a second. The initial shock was replaced with amusement as the scene unfolded in front of you.

“And to think that last time we saw each other would be the last.” You said before bitterly chuckling.

Diluc took some time to muster up words and recover from his initial shock.

“You never came back from that mission. You were claimed to be dead by the guild the day after and yet here you are. The people mourned over you. I mourned for you. What has become of you, (Y/n)?” Diluc spoke out, pain and sadness laced within his tone.

“Ha, they mourned? As well as yourself? Don’t make me laugh Ragnvindr. Was your mourning perhaps an act in an attempt to keep up your reputation. Would not surprise me in the slightest if that were the case. I refuse to accept the pity of others, and I absolutely detest if it is empty and meaningless. Pity is for those who are weak and as far as I’m concerned--”

You stepped closer to Diluc before you continued.

“I’m not weak anymore.”

“(Y/n), you were never weak--” Diluc said before he was cut off.

“Bullshit Ragnvindr. Utter bullshit.” You harshly spat.

“I wasn’t able to handle myself before. I was nothing but weak. It was one of the reasons you fell out of love with me, was it not? You wanted a strong individual that could take care of themselves and you sure got one, but it wasn’t me at the time. Look now Ragnvindr, I am strong now.”

He took a better look at you as the realization of your position has begun to sink in.

“You... you’re…” In one of the rare times of his life, he was at a loss for words.

“Ah, Ah, Cat got your tongue? Poor boy can’t even muster up any words.” You chuckled mockingly.

“Fatui Harbinger, Ragnvindr. Number 12. Surely you’ve heard right?” You boldly stated.

Yes, he did hear. The Tsaritsa had taken another Harbinger under her wing yet the news and information of said Harbinger was extremely scarce and yet, No.12 stood right before Diluc.

No.12 was once his own beloved.

“What exactly led to all of this? What caused all of this to happen? What have you done to yourself?” The questions kept pouring out from Diluc’s mouth.

“It was quite simple. I got sick and tired of being weak and having things being taken from me. I have lost too many things to count and I have sacrificed many things to become who I am today. I do not regret a single thing I have done since I have started being selfish and being selfish has kept me from getting hurt again. I do not need you anymore, I do not need anyone in fact. I live for myself and to serve the needs of the Tsaritsa to repay her for giving me a chance to live the way I should’ve been all along.” You look at him with a taunting smirk on your face.

The (Y/n) (L/n) that was once known to be the beloved of Diluc Ragnvindr was dead. They died the moment you stepped out of the winery for the very last time. You were (Y/n), No.12 of the Fatui Harbingers. You were the one that sacrificed yourself to a curse upon the Dragonspine mountains in exchange for power to fill the void that was left behind. You no longer had the longing for love; you had none left after all. You craved for power and leverage over others and you refused to let people trample over you like they did before. You refused to be weak again. With the help of your new found vision as well as the curse that now burdened you, you would conquer the world and burn the old one away, along with your old self.

With no love left, there was nothing left to lose after all.

A/N: SOOOO the whole choker thing might be a little confusing but BASICALLY i took the whole concept from the “Love me, Love me, Love me.” song where the girl gets that cursed necklace/choker and i changed the concept around a little bit so that in exchange for power, dear reader has to basically slaughter things to keep the choker from killing them LOL (I’m tired pls my mind if SPIRIALING rn lmfao)

the italics in the second chunk are the weird choker speaking to the reader since it's a whole ‘curse’ thing and the bold italics in the second chunk is basically a quote from genshin from the cryo gemstone thingies and i used it to signify the reader getting a cryo vision^^ there’s a lot i wanna say but i’m too lazy to elaborate sorry lol. kinda feel like making more parts to this bc i feel like the story could go one but ehhh we’ll see how I’m feeling. i really just wanted to make a oneshot where the reader goes batshit after so ahahahahhaha. (also this fic feels lore breaking as fuck but its ok LMAO)

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #genshin impact diluc #diluc ragnvindr #angst #diluc #no love left

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ask-sou-hiyori · 3 years

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Important Lore!

This post will contain very important details about this blog. It’s highly recommended that newcomers read this in order to understand aspects that will be mentioned throughout the blog!

It may be long since so much has happened and Mod Soup wants the audience to understand as much as they can, but also lore is very tasty so there’s that too.

Everything will be listed underneath the Keep Reading as to not clog up the current events, but will remain pinned and be updated when needed~!

(MAIN: @soupietime )

(Disclaimer: if you've seen and read before I was involved in the Takeover event and all that, please note that the previous Dad Midori stuff is NON-CANON to this blog, it makes me, the mod, quite uncomfortable. thank u and here's a snail 🐌 \^o^/)

(...Catboy Shin event was pretty funny though not gonna lie)

(Added fact: I HAVE NOT PLAYED 3-1B YET-)

(Added ADDED fact: I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED PLAYING 3-1B)

(Keys: MILL / More Information Listed Later)

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Shin Tsukimi / Sou Hiyori (previously)

Age: 22

Height: 5’5”

Weight: 106 lbs

Sexuality: Bisexual (male leaning)

RELATIONSHIPS

Gin Ibushi (@askgin-ibushi) - Familial love. His only son, officially adopted before the beginning of the “#up the tower” (MILL) HE LOVES HIS EPIC SOOOOOOON.

Sara Chidouin (@ask-chidouin-sara) - Didn’t pay much mind at first due to lack of trust, but soon developed a protective nature towards the girl. Adoption material?

Sou Hiyori/Midori/Spark (@ask-sou-midori) - Unaware of his new name (Spark). He has heavily conflicting feelings due to the effects of “#event: blended” (MILL) but currently does not forgive him for his actions due to the amount of trauma caused to both him and his family. He’s afraid of this man, yet misses him greatly. Seeing him brings him immense pain, but also a strange comfort. He is unaware whenever he relapses with Hiyori.

Zinnia (@askgin-ibushi) - Strong security guard lady… kind and protective. Good for comfort and cuddling. Soft.

Leidora Margarati (@askgin-ibushi) - Resident Doctor. Helped Shin realize that Midori/Spark gave him severe brain damage with the “blending” and everything in his blended life was a lie. Shin is grateful for her in telling him the truth, but as a result Shin has many conflicting feelings about everything and himself, plenty of migraines and headaches to go along with it all. Leidora is the one helping Shin heal from the severe trauma caused.

Shin Tsukimi (literally me) - ……

(There are various other blogs out there, but Shin has not made much of a relationship with them yet. These blogs are who Shin has interacted with relatively a lot and thus formed relationships and thoughts about them)

CHARACTER CONNECTIONS

Every character from these blogs are from their own YTTD universe. Through the power of Tumblr and ask blogs, a rift was torn and brought these characters together.

Though… Gin and Midori/Spark have been known to be from the same universe.

Revealed during “#hospital arc”, Shin is from Gin and Midori’s universe as well. It’s been believed he perished due to an act to save Kanna in the second main game, and then killed after an escape attempt. However, that was proved false after a conversation between Shin and Spark, Shin showing him his abundance of gunshot scars from how he was “killed” in the second main game, Spark immediately recognized the scars, and thus… the reveal has been made. Gin is aware of this fact as well after Shin returned to the hospital, the two now closer than ever.

There had been a Sara in the three's universe. Gin had taken his own Sara with his sacrifice win, but she had eventually offed herself, leaving Gin as the only survivor before finding out that Shin survived as well.

Kanna is a sister to Shin. Shin is a brother to Kanna.

Gin and Shin are family :) Father and son

EVENTS

(NOTE: If you are going to read through the tags of the events, MAKE SURE to read through the notes of any interactions, as very important parts of the events are played out through interactions between the blogs. It’s not only through the asks of the audience. Plus it's easier than scrolling through to find every single interaction reblog)

#event: takeover (@askgin-ibushi)

The event that brought us together

Part 1 synopsis

Part 2 synopsis

You may read these synopses on the event in the links above, or you may read through the whole tag on Gin’s blog :D

#event: blended

(TW: mental manipulation and toxic relationships)

After the events of Takeover, Shin was found by Gin in… well, Gin’s room. Midori manipulated Shin before getting chased away and told Shin to stay in the room until he came back. Obviously, Midori did not come back. Shin only left the house after getting a few answers from Gin (who came up to his room shortly after Takeover) about what happened, and Gin falling asleep. Snzz.

Soon after, Shin gets a call from Midori again, and… surprise surprise… Midori manipulated Shin once again and got the man to follow him into a warehouse, putting a machine (that was similar to the one Midori put on Gin previously) onto Shin’s head despite the man’s loud and frantic protests, “blending” his brain and turning him into his own “perfect Shin”, which was a Shin that absolutely loved and adored the man, doing anything he would tell him.

Midori, using Shin’s totally real love and adoration to his advantage, sent him to Gin with the intent to lure and kidnap him. After all… Gin was part of Shin’s “family”, it would be wrong to just leave him alone… While Shin had a “family” mindset, Midori wanted to kidnap the kid solely due to the fact that Gin was the “winner” of their death game via sacrifice. Midori had the job of collecting the winner and making them join Asunaro. Shin and Midori’s plan succeeded, the two kidnapping both Gin and Hinako (she was there too with Gin. Asuga was also there but she was knocked tf out so yeah).

After kidnapping Gin, Midori had blended him as well, finally creating their “perfect little family”.

...All was going “well” until Gin decided to fight Midori to protect Hinako. That soon resulted in Gin getting stabbed by Midori, and Midori’s head getting bashed onto the ground. Due to the blunt force trauma, Midori developed something similar to a conscience, now realizing what wrong he’s done and a will to assist Shin after seeing him panic over a bleeding out Gin.

They eventually arrive to a hospital, Gin getting the treatment he deserves, Shin getting observed by Leidora and figuring out what Midori has done to Shin’s brain, Sara getting blended as well, but only to erase her memories, and Midori leaving after Shin confronted the man about what Leidora has told him. Midori finally leaves Shin’s life…

...Or does he?

#up the tower

(TW: suicide attempt)

Days after entering the hospital, Shin constantly has headaches and conflicting feelings about everything he’s ever known. He thinks about what was fabricated, and what’s real. At times, he even has trouble differentiating the two. Shin’s blending had made him basically addicted to Midori like a drug. With the lack of Midori around because of Leidora’s advice, Shin goes into a withdrawal over the man, and soon develops hallucinations over him. The hallucination is tame, but starts leading Shin out of the room, making him follow him all the way up to the roof, ignoring those who stand in his way.

In reality, the hallucination had only left the room, disappearing right after. It was Shin himself who had decided to make his way to the roof. Before he had left the room, Shin was on a call with Midori… Midori found out about the hallucinations and took that as Shin missing him dearly, his “error” fixing temporarily and the man driving over to come collect Shin. When Shin mentioned over the phone about walking “up the tower” to wait for Midori, then jumping off to land in his arms in a false fantasy, Midori’s error picked up again and panicked, now rushing to the hospital.

Once reaching the top, followed by Sara and Leidora, Shin stood over the edge, remaining there as the others spoke to him, trying to convince him not to jump. Shin revealed he's been having so many problems with himself: He's weak, he's awful, he's a horrible parent, he could've prevented all of this, and various other bad thoughts about himself, and then the constant pain he's felt since the blending, which has only gotten worse overtime, was the breaking point for him, he just couldn't handle it anymore. The pain was unbearable.

It had only calmed down once Gin made his way to the roof, bleeding due to opening his injuries up again while walking up to the roof after anons told him about the situation. The moment Shin took notice of Gin and heard his voice, he realized why he's still here. It would make him even more of an awful person to jump and leave him alone once again. Soon enough, Shin staggered off the edge of the roof and embraced Gin.

This arc ended with Shin, Gin, Sara, and Leidora going back into the hospital. Midori had been watching this entire time, the sight of Shin's suicide attempt making him leave once more, realizing it was his fault that the attempt even occurred.

#hospital arc

Several months had gone by since Gin, Sara, and Shin had entered the hospital. Gin's being cared for his injury while it scars up, Sara is there due to her blending, and Shin is mainly there on a close watch due to his suicide attempt, while also there healing from his blending.

Shin relapses, and escapes the hospital to go see Midori again, breaking his room's window and hopping out and landing on mattresses that an anon laid out during "#up the tower". The whole hospital is in a panic at his disappearance, especially since Shin was in the mental ward.

Shin goes to Midori's place, and all seems normal until Midori figures out Shin broke out to see him again. Midori wants to take him back, but Shin asks for Dunkin Donuts first, something to eat since the man hasn't been eating right since the hospital. They get their food, and thanks to an employee commenting about the two being "lovers", Midori quickly pays and drives away as fast as he could, ending up in the woods. The two lay down on the ground for a while and have a few talks. Only when some anons give Shin steps on how to run away, Midori brings Shin back into the car and starts driving back to the hospital.

...They don't get that far, as some teasing occurs and Midori's "error" fixes itself for a brief moment, and harasses Shin. Shin eventually kicks the man in the nuts which led to Midori threatening not to take Shin back. Shin, of course, freaks out.

Eventually the error returns, and only with a few words of encouragement from Shin does Midori start driving Shin back. Once they arrive, Midori gives Shin a piggyback ride since the man's body is in immense pain. Once they get close enough to the hospital, Shin gives Midori a goodbye hug and a thank you for being relatively good, and finally returns to the hospital.

Shin had reached the hospital, but his legs had quickly given out, causing him to fall face first onto the ground. A security guard, Zinnia, was the first to find him and carry him back into the hospital, where they were met with an upset Leidora, demanding that Shin speak about his whole breakout. Shin... couldn't speak, he was too tired and absolutely exhausted. After Zinnia managed to temporarily make the doctor leave, she brought him back to his new room (no windows this time) and let him rest.

Soon, Gin had peeked into the room, both him and Shin glad to see each other again. They had a comforting moment before Shin decided to talk to Gin about what happened during their game. Gin, still thinking he's the only survivor, asked Shin about his own game. Eventually, Shin revealed to the boy that he was not the only survivor after all. When Shin showed Gin his gunshot scars, Gin finally realized his dad was his own Shin all this time, and soon ran out of the room in a panic, in despair over the fact that he had "killed" Shin's Kanna, whom was a little sister to Shin, because of his sacrifice win, even though Shin nearly died in order to protect her. Shin's act to protect Kanna was futile.

Zinnia to the rescue! She caught the young boy in her arms, as well as Shin, who had been chasing after Gin. She brought the two back into Shin's room and told them to talk it out like normal people. And so.. they did. It ended well, and now the two are sleeping so soundly together in each others embrace like father and son. Zinnia sits with the two, watching over them to protect them. Snzz.

#event: shin ai

//ONGOING EVENT//

After returning Shin back to the hospital, Midori had a mini breakdown over the situation. In order to attempt to cope, he went back home and brought out something he found in his closet before… a monitor. After hours and hours of trying to fix it back up, it finally worked, and what appeared on the screen was an AI. An AI of Shin, in fact. At first it was incredibly awkward and highly uncomfortable for the AI, since all Midori did was stare at him. But after asking question after question, Midori finally spoke to the AI.

The two conversed and became friends! More "interaction points" were programmed into the AI, per AI's request, and all was chill until an anon started trying to tell the AI what Midori has done in the past. Shin AI knew the man had did bad things, he's lived through so much of that before he had shut down for a long time. But… Midori caught on and finally told the AI what he's done. The AI was mortified at the blending and kidnapping and the like, but had grown some sympathy towards the man. After all, the AI knew about Midori's "error", and how he wanted to change, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to.

The AI kept on reassuring Midori, supporting him the best he can from now on. To pull him away from being Sou Hiyori and allow more room for change, the AI even gave him a new name… Spark.

Spark intended for his gay thoughts to lessen after turning the AI back on but y'know. That only caused him more gay thoughts.

Not too long after… the AI received an email, glimpses of Sou Hiyori flashing every so often on the email, as well as text telling the AI that He'll see him soon. The AI is panicking… but what more could he do about it?

//To be updated soon//

APPEARANCES

Start of the blog

After "#event: blended"

Festival event :) (#event: festival)

"#hospital arc"

(I do not have a sprite made just yet, however, he's wearing an oversized hospital gown with small shorts underneath, as well as the scarf he always wears. There are some eyebags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves still has remnants of the swirls, caused by the blending)

"#event: shin ai"

(Disclaimer: All art/edits shown in this post belong to me)

#ask blog #shin tsukimi #masterpost #important #long post #yttd #sou hiyori #your turn to die #synopsis #...long synopsis #soup SPEAKS #to be continued #will update #soup art #edit #sprite edit

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intersex-ionality · 4 years

Note

So you like Star Wars? Do you have any favourite Star Wars media? I do not know if I lean more towards Star Wars or Star Trek, I like them both very much. Have you seen any of the Mandolorian? I haven’t seen the polarizing Last Jedi, Solo or the new Rise of Skywalker you mentioned. What do you think of the latest trilogy? I read lots of spoilers for the movies I didn’t see. I can see why some of movies appealed to some and not others depending on the movie. Different sides. Might see them

The animated TV series are my preferred star wars media, with Clone Wars being my #1 and Rebels being my #2. I’ve never played any of the video games that attach themselves to the themes and canons presented by the TV shows, but I do know they exist. I just don’t… do a lot of video games. I need things that have very simple interfaces, forgiving combat, few or no quick-time events, and very simple or no puzzles. Star Wars games firmly do not fit that bill, even though many of them are single-player, story-driven games which is also something I love.

I haven’t seen Mandalorian yet, which I recognize is a travesty because I love both Star Wars and westerns, and it’s a Star Wars western, but also… TV shows are a lot for me, and live-action TV shows are especially a lot because it’s many many hours of media to wade through, most of it requiring me to gauge people’s body language without the exaggerated trappings of animation. It’s hard! I’ll get there, but maybe not for another few months yet.

As far as the films, my order of preference is:

The Last Jedi

Clone Wars - Animated

Rogue One

Clone Wars - Live Action

A New Hope

The Force Awakens

Return of the Jedi

Empire Strikes Back

Revenge of the Sith

Phantom Menace

Rise of Skywalker

I’m a firm believer in calling one-star wars film a lost cause. When I was very young, I called Empire Strikes Back the lost cause, because I haaaated it. It was so SAD and it ended on so many CLIFFHANGERS and I just hated that. In my young adulthood, I called Phantom Menace the lost cause, because I don’t like the canons it introduces, the implications it raises then forgets, the editing or the directing (though, as a kid, I actually really liked it: it was flashy, it had lots of really easy to understand visual gags and one liners, a child my age was the star, etc and so forth).

But congratulations to TPM, because as of a week ago, it’s back in the running. Rise of Skywalker is my new write-off.

I know it’s a bit of an “unpopular opinion” in major star wars circles–though a very popular opinion in transformative star wars fandom–to say that Last Jedi is my number one choice, but man oh man.

Spoilers for TROS and TLJ from this point forward.

Where some films I could mention, JJ, make a big point of spitting on everything that came before them and focusing only on large action sequences that were done better with worse tech and worse budgets decades ago, Last Jedi is a very Fandom Approach to SW canon. It reconciles the trauma and toxicity of the Jedi Order that the prequels went to such lengths to establish, with the bright-eyed bombast of the original trilogy and its worship of a past that had rusted and decayed but was still considered magical to the people it surrounded.

If you are the kind of person who enjoys reading Star Wars fanfiction, you’ll probably really like Last Jedi. If you are the kind of person who enjoys reading Star wars lore books, you probably won’t. If you’re a more casual fan, you’ll probably enjoy the way it captures that “anyone can be anything” adventure spirit of the original trilogy, but the deep forays into examining the preceding media might be a bit uh… much.

Of course, Last Jedi is like… a Star Wars film. It’s a fantasy adventure series set in space, and it knows and accepts the fundamental nonsensicality of its own premise. If you are looking for something truly grounded and realistic, star wars is simply never going to be the place to go (though, the animated Clone Wars series might be a good start…).

So, I do recommend Last Jedi if you like Star Wars! Just, go into it knowing that it’s quite a tonal departure.

I once described it (though I’m not sure I still would) as “Star Wars for fans of Star Trek.”

In the end, I could never choose between star wars and star trek because, the aesthetic similarities aside, they’re two very different properties in two very different genre, with two very different intentions. Star Trek wants to examine the philosophical implications of a lot of human beliefs, behaviours, and cultures, and uses speculative fiction to do so from a safe distance. Star Wars wants to show the emotional highs and lows of a chosen one and their friends, and uses speculative fiction to make the stakes for those perspective characters about a million times higher than they could be in a real-life scenario. One is about philosophy, and one is about feelings. And while you can philosophize on feelings, or have feelings about philosophy, the two series are just… fundamentally different!! Different stakes, different settings, different tones, different goals.

It’s a lot easier to compare media with more similar genres. Such as comparing Babylon 5 to Star Trek, or comparing Avatar the Last Air Bender to Star Wars.

Rise of Skywalker is… more of a pastiche of other Star Wars films than it is a Star Wars film in and of itself. It spends a lot of time re-creating iconic moments from other films, without putting much effort into making them match the current plot, emotions, etc. It also loses a lot of the emotional power that makes Star Wars so compelling. However, it does have some good points.

For example, I like the part where BB-8 watches Rey heal a snake, and then she decides to try healing another droid herself. So she puts her power cord on the other droid (because the healing was explained to her as “giving up some energy to the other person”), and it works (because the other droid had a dead battery). That was such top tier shit. BB-8 is blessed.

I just… dislike a LOT more than I like, with Rise of Skywalker. Still, if you enjoy Star Wars, it is probably worth catching on streaming or rental. I can’t in good conscience say it’s worth the cost of a theater ticket, that’s a decision you’ll have to make for yourself.

#TROS wank #fandom wank #negativity #star wars wank #star wars negativity #star wars spoilers #tros spoilers #spoilers #whining #oops I have feelings again #Anonymous

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duhragonball · 5 years

Text

Dragon Ball Z 273

Okay, so this episode kind of sucks. At some point, I want to go back and put together a top ten worst Dragon Ball episodes list, because I think it’s kind of an interesting topic. I dig this anime a lot, but out of 444 episodes, it stands to reason that some of them aren’t so hot.

I don’t know if DBZ #273 necessarily makes the cut for worst ten, but it’s got some serious problems. Chief among them, Majin Buu has defeated everyone, so he just sort of runs around on an empty planet with nothing to do.

Kibitoshin is upset, of course, because Vegito was doing so well, and then Buu absorbed him. However, the Elder Kai notices that Buu hasn’t transformed after absorbing Vegito, so maybe there’s a glimmer of hope here.

As for Buu, he celebrates by flying into the nearest empty city and smashing up buildings and cars.

Then he start bombarding the landscape with pink ki blasts, which... would be kind of scary or exciting, or something, if there were anyone left alive to care.

The only people left on Earth are Mr. Satan and Dende, and they never interact with Buu in this episode. Mr. Satan desperately pleads for Dende to do something, but he’s not a fighter, and it’s beyond his power.

Meanwhile, Buu notices that he hasn’t changed after absorbing Vegito, but he doesn’t much care. Maybe it’ll take longer, but even if he doesn’t gain any powe from the absorption, he’s still secured his place as the mightiest in the universe.

Then he rips off his shirt and tosses it away. I always wondered about this, because I assume his clothes are made up of his flesh, which is how he’s able to regenerate them along with the rest of his body. Maybe he transmutes some of his body into clothes when he does that? I’m just wondering why the shirt didn’t grow a new Super Buu after they finally beat this guy.

All Super Buu seems to care about is becoming the strongest in the universe, so that no one can stop him from enjoying the death and suffering of other beings. I get the impression that these are Majin Buu’s two principle directives. Be stronger than everyone else, and kill everyone and everything he can find. The different forms and personalities of Buu may vary in priorities, but everything seems to come back to those two things. Fat Buu tried to give up killing people, and that’s why he turned into Super Buu. His violent nature was re-asserting itself against his newfound conscience.

Meanwhile, Vegito is inside Buu’s body. The Kais are delighted to discover this, because it means that he tricked Buu into absorbing him on purpose. Somehow, Vegito’s ki barrier protected him from the absorption process, but it still allowed him to be drawn into Buu’s body. It also shrank him down, but he’s still alive and able to act upon Buu from within.

Vegito’s plan is to search for Piccolo and his children, and remove them from Buu’s system. I don’t understand why he would go to such lengths, though. Would it not be simpler to just kill Super Buu, along with all the people he absorbed, and then wish Piccolo and the boys back to life with the Dragon Balls? Maybe he was worried that they wouldn’t be separated from Buu, even in death.

Anyway, the moment Vegito drops the barrier, he defuses into Goku and Vegeta. Neither of them understand it, since the Potara Fusion was supposed to be permanent. Goku suspects it might be because of the bad air in this place, but Dragon Ball Super established that Fusion by the Potara is only permanent when used by a Kai. When mortals use them, it only lasts about an hour.

I’m not wild about that explanation, but it fits the facts. It doesn’t make a lot of sense for Buu’s body to undo fusions, since Gotenks was able to exist inside Buu for some time. I don’t think the Vegito/Buu fight was supposed to have lasted a full hour, although that would be well within the runtime of Episodes 269-272. And there’s precedent for very powerful fusions wearing off sooner than expected. Super Saiyan 3 causes Gotenks to separate after about five minutes. In Dragon Ball GT, Super Saiyan 4 Gogeta separated after about ten. In Super, Vegito Blue dissolved in about 15. So maybe Super Saiyan Vegito took a toll on the Potara, and they just happened to give out at this moment.

On the other hand, the Elder Kai was fused with a mortal witch millions of years ago, and that fusion was quite permanent. Maybe it’s only temporary when both participants are mortals. At any rate, there seems to be an effort in modern Dragon Ball lore to de-emphasize fusion an instant solution to beat powerful villains. It was never easy to do in the first place, but the stronger you get, the shorter it lasts. In Movie 14, Goku ruled out fusing with Vegeta to beat Beerus, because he didn’t think Gogeta would be strong enough to win, and it’s looking like Super Saiyan Gogeta is about as strong as a fusion can get before it becomes unstable.

In any case, Vegeta is grateful to be done with fusion, and he crushes his earring to ensure that they won’t re-combine once they leave Buu’s body. Goku is horrified by this, because the last thing they need to do is reduce their available options, but Vegeta would sooner die than accept any more fusion.

So Goku crushes his own earring in frustration. Okay, now that I get a good look at it, I see that the Potara use a threaded clamp to attach to the ear. I always wondered if Goku and Vegeta had to pierce their own ears right then and there to use these things.

So this is the start of the final leg of the Fusion Saga, which is just Goku and Vegeta trying to make their way through Buu’s interior. The next three episodes are pretty good, but this one doesn’t offer nearly as much. After a few minutes of walking, they step into some quicksand-like surface and get pulled down....

... into what passes for Buu’s stomach. There, they find giant cakes and eclairs that Buu has eaten recently. Also, that orange liquid is his digestive fluid. I’ve never understood how Majin Buu could even have discrete organs like this, since his body is constantly getting shorn apart and rearranged. Maybe this internal structure exists in another dimension.

Anyway, they climb up on a candy bar or something, and then they drift towards a whirlpool, which I guess leads to the rest of Buu’s digestive tract. For some reason, they seem to have forgotten that they can fly or jump. At one point, they get surrounded by other food, and they act like this cuts off their only chance of escape.

Then they fall back in the stomach acid, which burns their clothes but not their eyes...

And Vegeta finally blasts a hole in Buu’s stomach lining so they can escape. Well why didn’t he just do that in the first place?

Outside, Buu feels a slight pain in his gut, and he wonders if he’s having indigestion from absorbing Vegito.

Inside, Goku complains that Vegeta may have given their presence away with that stunt. Vegeta doesn’t care, since the alternative was to get digested.

Then they wander around for a while. So if they’re out of his stomach, why is all this cake here? Anyway, Goku warns that if Buu eats nothing but sweets, he’ll get fat, which is dumb, because Buu was fat, and now he’s pretty lean.

Then all these green blobs show up, which I guess are some sort of digestive organelles, and they burn Goku like the stomach acid did.

They try to fight the things, but Goku gets swarmed and they somehow immobilize him.

Then this thing shows up.

Vegeta doesn’t help him, he just shouts instructions from the sidelines. What a trooper.

This right here is dumb. Goku could shake these green things off in like two seconds, if he wanted to, but we’re supposed to think this is a cliffhanger?

So yeah, not a good episode.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #fusion saga #goku #vegeta #vegito #dende #mr satan #majin buu #elder kai #kibitoshin

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sevenincubistolemyheart · 5 years

Text

Safe Haven

Au: Librarian! Jimin x Reader

Tag list: @xsunnyhoseokx @amiraclerenee

Rating: PG-13

Potential Triggers: Brief mentions of unease in the dark, and brief cursing!

Pairing: Librarian! Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff! So much fluff!

Length: 2.9k+

Summary: When the new librarian startles you while making tea on a cold winter day, you quickly find yourself warming up to him. As the storm grows worse outside, he quickly devises a plan to keep you warm and content, even when the power and heat go off.

Unlike other people who looked to coffee to give them their daily energy boost, tea had always been your go-to. Tea and books had become the perfect combination for whenever you needed comfort. There was nothing better than a light, sweet cup of tea and a fantasy novel as it rained outside your favorite little library.

There was something to be said for the expansive, seemingly never-ending library a few blocks up, but you’d always felt more at home here, in the more quiet, out of the way library. There was always noise in the other library which stopped you from becoming fully immersed in your novels as you wished to. So when you stumbled across this one, you quickly fell in love.

Sure, there wasn’t as many books, but there was plenty of stories even with the smaller selection. The atmosphere was always peaceful and calm, and the staff was consistently welcoming. It became your home away from home, and you quickly became family as you visited every day without fail. There was a room with an old school fireplace, of course, situated a good distance away from any bookshelves in its own little room along with several comfy chairs which became your safe space.

You stopped by for at least an hour every day after school, despite it increasing how long it’d take you to walk home from here. For Christmas last year you’d brought in one of those Keurig pod machines with a decent mix of hot chocolate, tea, and coffee pods, plus a few mugs and Suran had nearly cried from the happiness of not having to go out of her way to head Starbucks every morning just to get her coffee fix. All of the staff was super appreciative and pitched in every month to get more drink pods when they began to run low.

Currently, you were refilling your tea mug and reading while you waited for the machine to finish brewing. It’d been a long, boring day of classes and getting cat-called on your way here hadn’t done anything to improve your mood but you already found yourself calming down now that you were here.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know we had a Keurig here!”

The excited voice right next to you made you jump, an unladylike sound escaping your lips in surprise as you dropped your book, pouting as you realized you had definitely lost the page you were on. You bent down to get it, but another hand grabbed the book before you could.

“Ah, City of Bones huh? The Mortal Instruments is a classic for the Supernatural Romance genre.”

You blushed a bit, used to being judged for your reading preferences as you turned to look at the boy currently holding your book captive. He was cute, with purple hair he somehow made look casual and thin round glasses. His outfit was semi-professional since he was wearing a suit and tie, but he's definitely added his own flair with the dark green plaid jacket he was wearing and black jeans. He raised an eyebrow at you and you flushed as you realize you’d been staring at him like an idiot while he waited for you to respond to his statement.

“Y-Yeah I totally agree. I love the series, this is actually my second read through since Cassandra Clare just released the next trilogy. I just want to make sure I’ve got all the characters and lore set straight in my head before I start the next series.” You rambled a bit out of embarrassment and turned to tend to your tea as the Keurig beeped.

“That’s right, I totally forgot A Queen of Air and Darkness dropped recently! I’ll need to pick that up. Anyway, the name’s Park Jimin. I’m guessing you're the girl that likes her tea more sugar than tea that my new coworkers have been telling me about?” He joked as he watched you stir a good amount into your cup before picking it up and turning to face him again, leaning on the table and taking your book from his hands as he offered it with your free hand.

A fond smirk tugged onto your lips as you laughed slightly. “Hey don’t knock it till you try it Jimin. Your coworkers only drink their coffee black to match their bitterness over my bomb ass tea.” You introduced yourself as well as he gave the most adorable giggle at your playful retort. “Well, we’re in the same boat then cutie. I’m a fan of sweet tea too.”

You looked over at Namjoon as he walked over to get his daily 8 cups of coffee a day. “You both are crazy, black coffee is the best. Your tounges are just defective. Anyway, rookie stop flirting with our favorite bookworm and get over here and help me restock these books. You can talk to her some other time, she’s here every day.” He said after he finished brewing his coffee, smirking at the blush that lit up the younger man’s face.

You rolled your eyes, lightly shoving Namjoon’s arm. “Good job Joon, you broke the poor boy. Go easy on him, it’s his first day.” Namjoon chuckled, slinging his arm around the shorter boys shoulder as he steered him towards the book cart they would be dealing with. Jimin came to his senses a few seconds later calling back to you over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to you later if you’re still here!”

You shook your head with a wistful smile and took a sip of your tea as you headed back into your secluded room, the fireplace crackling peacefully as you made yourself comfortable and prepared to read the afternoon away. You set a quick alarm on your phone to remind you it was time to go home and were lost in the fantasy world of your book mere minutes later.

Sometime later you jumped as someone startled you by placing a hand on your shoulder out of nowhere, but sighed in relief as you realized it was just Jimin, a silly grin on his face. “You’re a jumpy one aren’t you?” He teased a bit, taking his hand off your shoulder. You bookmarked your page and turned to him fully. “Only when I’m reading. I tend to get lost in the world. Anyway, how’d book sorting with Namjoon go?” His nose crinkled as he pouted. “It was fine, he’s just a little bossy. It’s going to take some getting used to.” He admitted. You stifled a laugh at that, knowing very well how intimidating Namjoon could be if he had to after being here for so long.

“Don’t worry. He may seem like kind of a stuck up jerk, but he’s actually really sweet. He’s only so particular about books because he loves them so much. This library is his life, ya know? He built it from the ground up, so it’s very important to him.” You explained as Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? I had no idea.” He mumbled. You looked down at your alarm as it suddenly blared and quickly turned it off, smiling apologetically at Jimin as you gathered your book and schoolbag, taking the now empty teacup to wash it before you left.

“Sorry, that’s my cue to go home now.”

You headed to the door with the boy in tow and he snorted, looking at you like you were nuts. “No way. You’re gonna freeze to death out there! Did you even bring a hat and gloves?” He asked in a scolding tone, making you roll your eyes. “No, it wasn’t that bad out earlier, why would I have?” You asked as you headed to the tea station, washing your cup before drying it and placing it neatly back on the rack. “Maybe so you were prepared for the huge snowstorm that’s currently going on out there?” He sasses back, motioning to one of the large windows.

A quick glance confirmed your fear. Much as you hated to admit it, he was right. The wind was howling and no doubt ice cold and the snow would be flying right in your face from the speed. You couldn’t walk home in that storm. “But the library’s going to close soon!” You mumbled worriedly, causing Jimin to perk up. He got an idea and headed over to the front desk where Suran was currently working and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “Hey, can I stay here after closing with her? She walks home and I can’t in good conscience let her go out there without a hat, gloves or even a proper coat.”

Suran looked at you for a moment before she sighed and nodded, reluctantly. “...Fine. But only because I know her so well and trust her. Thank God Namjoon had to leave early today. Here’s the key.” She took out the key from her desk drawer and handed it to Jimin. “Make sure to lock up when you leave, and you’re on cleaning duty this weekend to make this up to me.” Jimin smiled victoriously and nodded. “Deal! Thank you so much Suran, I owe you!” She nodded with an amused smile and stretched, getting ready to head out herself as she put on her coat.

Jimin walked back over to you and you looked up from texting your family you’d be home late because of the storm. The smile on his face made you wary and you questioned him. “...What’s with the ear to ear grin Park? You’re kinda creeping me out here.” He smirked and let a key dangle from his fingertips. “I’ve got the keys, so we can stay here until the snow dies down and I can walk you home!” He said smugly, looking awfully proud of himself. The gesture was incredibly sweet and you found yourself smiling back at him.

“Thank you so much, that’s perfect! I can’t believe you pulled that off!” You chirped happily, and Jimin felt his heart warm at the innocent glee in your eyes.

Jimin all but purred at your praise and puffed up. “Never underestimate Park Jimin! I can charm anyone if it means keeping you safe and warm!” He said, pulling a superhero pose and making your happy giggle fill the air again. He was just thankful that he could convince you to wait it out, scared you were going to go out and risk getting sick.

As it turned out, the storm had no intent on slowing down and in fact only got worse as time passed much to your irritation. “Why is Jack Frost being such a dick? For the supposed Guardian of Fun he sure is sucking at his job…” You pouted but your grumbling only made Jimin’s eyes light up. “You know Rise of the Guardians? That’s my favorite movie!” He exclaimed making you smirk at him. “Somehow I don’t doubt that.”

Your light banter was cut short as the power suddenly went out, making you gasp as you were plunged into darkness, save for the small light from the fireplace. Besides that light glow, however, it was totally pitch black thanks to the winter months making the sky darken at a much earlier hour. Thanks to both of your phones dying an hour or so ago, and Namjoon’s hyper-fear of the books catching fire making sure no candles ever made their way into the library, any other sources of light were nonexistent.

“Welp. That’s what you get for provoking him.”

“Ow!” Jimin huffed as you thwacked him playfully for his comment, though there was a fond, if nervous, smile on your face nonetheless. He gently took hold of your arm after faintly making out your form and moved closer to the fire with you, feeling you begin to shiver as the heat was turned off along with the power. “Stay here.” He whispered to you quietly, moving to release you and leave you in front of the fireplace momentarily. “Where are you going?” He could detect the slight undercurrent of uneasiness and worry in your voice, and knelt down again, observing the way the flames made shadows dance across your face. He reached out and gently cup your face in his palm, keeping it there when you didn’t pull away, and instead leaned into his touch.

He looked into your eyes and whispered again, as if speaking any louder would awaken some great beast hidden within the shadows. “I’m just going to go get some blankets for us babygirl. Be good, and stay warm in front of the fire. I promise I’ll be right back. Okay?” He held out his pinky after pulling away from your face and you intertwined yours with his after a moment’s hesitance. He brought his thumb to his lips making your cheeks color at the intimate feeling of it all as you followed his lead and did the same. He gave you a cheeky grin. “There. Now it’s sealed with a kiss. I have to come back or you get to break my pinky.” You shook your head in disbelief of his antics but it had helped alleviate much of your unease, and you were thankful for that.

“Okay. But hurry back doofus. It’s not as warm without you next to me.” The confession slipped out from between your lips without thinking and you flushed in embarrassment but Jimin’s smile only widened before he got up and exited the room to go further into the darkness of the library.

It had only been a few minutes, but you were starting to get fidgety. Just as you were debating getting up to go and look for him, a blanket suddenly covered your head, making you squeal in surprise, much to Jimin’s amusement. “Did ya miss me princess?” He teased as he made himself comfortable once again beside you, cuddling underneath the blanket and gently pulling you into his side. You blushed, and probably would’ve pushed him away in any other circumstances, but he was just so warm and comfortable. You nuzzled closer into him and sighed in content and he aww’ed at you making you give him the finger.

He snickered, and you felt his body shake with his laughter. It wasn’t long before you were nodding off, the heat exuding from both the fireplace and Jimin getting to you as your eyes began to close. Jimin had been rambling on about something his friend Jungkook had done, but when he looked down and saw you sleeping peacefully against his shoulder, his eyes softened and he sighed in utter contentment. He slowly moved to lay down, gently positioning you so you were laying more comfortably against his chest, and placing the pillow he snagged from one of the chairs underneath his head.

He observed your sleeping form for a moment, clearly contemplating something, before he gingerly kissed your cheek. He couldn’t help it, you just looked so cute like this! Cheeks burning, he made himself comfortable and made sure you were fully covered by the blanket before closing his eyes and quickly falling asleep himself.

Namjoon walked into the library the next morning bright and early after getting a call from the power company that he should go and check that everything was working alright. He’d always been a night owl, but thankfully the second cup of black coffee in his hand was giving him enough energy to be somewhat alert. So, when he went to open the library door and found it unlocked a flash of panic went through him as he rushed inside, careful to be quiet in case an intruder was still around.

He crept around the all too familiar library and found himself confused as not a single book seemed out of place. As he made his way towards the secluded room, he quickly relaxed at the sight before him, stifling the groan he wanted to let out as he saw you sleeping peacefully on Jimin’s chest, while said boy held you close to him protectively.

He couldn’t resist taking out his phone and snagging a few pictures. Perfect blackmail material for Jimin. Revenge would be sweet. Almost as sweet as the way you made your tea. The idea that suddenly hit him made him grin wickedly. He checked everything was working, locked the doors and then left, leaving you two to sleep a little longer.

It was 2 weeks later when Jimin and you were officially dating that Namjoon struck. You were chatting casually with your new boyfriend about where to go for your planned date that night as you made your cup of tea as you usually did. As you went to grab the sugar, you found it filled not with sugar, but with coffee. You sighed, figuring someone had made a mistake, and opened the plastic container usually filled with the sweet spice, ready to fix it as you had in the past only to look down to and flush bright red in embarrassment at the post-it note on top of the coffee. Curious at your sudden lack of response and blush, Jimin looked your shoulder to read it as well.

‘In case your wondering, this is how bitter I was when I found you sleeping here overnight with the doors unlocked. Enjoy your tea without sugar for a little as punishment~ :)’

Namjoon snickered behind his own mug of coffee at your reaction, though he quickly swallowed as Jimin whirled, and quickly spotted him. Uh oh.

“You’re the one who posted the photo in the library group chat! I’m gonna kill you!”

Namjoon quickly ducked out of there, all while hiding a smug grin behind his mug.

Worth it.

#sismh: fics #park jimin x you #park jimin x reader #safe haven #i like my men like I like my series #park jimin #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #kim namjoon #librarian au!#i like my men like i like my tea

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1000roughdrafts · 5 years

Text

Birth and Death - Part 3

Summary: Y/N can’t imagine the thought of never seeing her friend again, so she decides to do something about it despite all of Sam’s warnings.

A/N: written for @spnclassicbingo and this is the last part for the bingo, but it might not be the last part in general

Square Filled: Summoning A Spirit

Warnings: angst, talk of dead friend, spell work, supportive!sam, cranky!Dean, a cuss word or two, burning of a corpse

W/C: 2209

Pairings: Sam X Reader

Part Two

Y/N knew that it might not end very well, and she didn’t care. Her heart was locked in a cage of grief that blocked her sense of rational thinking. Conversation after conversation with Sam had only solidified her morose decision to go forward with the Seance.

Even after he had warned her that the person she knew as her friend wasn’t going to be the same person that appeared, she had a small kernel of hope that it could be - and that was enough for her.

With those big, warm eyes, he asked her - begged even - to find other ways to cope with the loss. They’d kept in contact after the incident at the graveyard, sharing notes about lore, sending each other articles they thought were interesting, and giving advice to one another. He even offered to help her, said he knows better than anyone what it’s like to lose a friend.

She knew that when she told him she wouldn’t do it he believed her. It made her heart sink knowing how hard he tried to keep her from doing what she already set her mind to, and lying to him was the punch in the gut she didn’t need. But it didn’t change anything, she was too numb and in pain to care; the heartache was cutting her deeper with every passing day and nothing had ever made as much sense to her as sitting in a darkened room surrounded by candles and herbs.

Taking a deep breath in, she closed her eyes. “Y/F/N,” she whispered, cringing as the name filled her ears. Clearing her throat, she crossed her legs and reached across them for a candle. Placing it next to her feet, she leaned forward to read her hand scribbled sheet with the summoning spell. “I’m sorry, Sam,” she whispered, more for her own conscience than anything.

Tears knocked on the corners of her eyes, the smoke from the candles opening the doors. “Amate spiritus obscure,” she said softly, looking up from the paper and around the room between words. “Te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloqure.” Her voice grew louder as she spoke.

When a brisk wind filled the room, she couldn’t help but to smile. Sad had let it slip that a sudden coldness is a sign of spirits. Nodding as if she were a child awaiting an ice cream cone, she rushed through the last of the chant, “aput nos circita,” she belted out.

Waiting for her friends entrance, Y/N kept her eyes wide as she rigidly scanned the room. She was excited to see her friend again, but as the seconds turned into agonizing minutes of silence and waiting, Sam’s warnings echoed in the back of her mind. What if her friend really was different? Or worse, what if she called onto other spirits instead?

Panic had set in, and she wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to move to grab her phone. Her muscles felt stiff, like if she were to move they would crack and fall apart. The breeze rushed through again, leaving her with a deep sense of knowing that that was it - she had done it.

All of Sam’s words rang in her ears, building up a pressure in her head. Closing her eyes, she swallowed her fears and brought herself to her feet. Rotating her torso around the room, she squinted her eyes in an attempt to see past the darkness. Heart jumping rapidly in her chest, she brought her shaking hand to the floor, grabbing a dimly lit candle and heading off in search for her phone.

As she rounded the corner into her living room, another blast of cold air hit her. She wasn’t sure what was different about that one, other than a sense of bravery that hit her along with it. She called out her friend’s name, ignoring the incessant pounding in her ears.

Standing between her living and dining room, she slid the phone into her pocket. Waiting patiently, she kept her eyes on the orange glow that she held in her hands. The first sound to creep into her ears was the creaking of her staircase, the second was the increasing rate of her heart beat.

She took slow, easy steps backwards, positioning herself against the wall as she watched the tall, elegant figure approach her.

“Y/N,” the beauty lulled. “I missed you,” she whispered. Her voice was angelic and pure, but there was something different to her - a veil that covered her voice that intimidated Y/N.

“Y/F/N?” she stuttered, “is it - is it really you?” the words cracked as they came out, excitement mixed with fear pouring from her voice as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

Dean bounced his leg impatiently as he glared out of the Impala at Y/N’s closed blinds. With his chin dipped towards his chest he snapped, “if you’re sure she’s going to do it,” he shouted, stopping the shake in his leg and facing Sam. “Then what the Hell are we doing out here?” he growled.

Sam turned to look at his brother’s scowl slowly, as if he was ripped from thought. He let out a deep breath, “I wanted to give her a chance,” he stared, hands twisting in each other, “I guess,” he said softly.

“Well, I say we bust in there and knock some damn sense into her,” Dean shrugs, relaxing only slightly.

Sam sighed a long, heavy breath. Biting his lip, he turned to look out of the window again, planting his eyes on her decaying, red door. He knew Dean was right, but why did it have to be her? Why couldn’t she have just listened to him?

Dean kept his eyes on Sam for a short moment before using the back of his hand to tap Sam’s arm, “let’s go,” he said, opening the door and heading around to the trunk for weapons and salt.

He was hopeful that he wouldn’t have to use any of it, for Sam’s sake. He could see the way he looked at her, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about her and he hasn’t seen Sam look that way in a long time. Dean, of course, thought it was stupid and reckless for Sam to develop feelings for someone let alone a civilian, and he tried to warn him.

Dean pulled himself out of thought as he pulled the shotgun from the trunk, slamming it shut and turning to Sam. He softened his expression just long enough to instill some comfort in his brother, “you do realize that if she did this,” he said, pausing for a moment, “we’re gonna have to burn her friend’s body, right?”

Sam only nods, eyes shifting to the ground. Dean pats him on the arm once more before marching for the door. A few steps left before the stair case, Dean turns to Sam once more, “and you know what?” he said, a finger held to Sam’s face.

Rolling his eyes, Sam forced out a “what?”

Dean brought his hand to his side, shifting the gun in his arm. He pointed to the door, keeping his eyes on Sam, “and I think she should be there for it. I think if she sees the real, cold and bloody truth it might deter her from going down this path,” he whispered, keeping a scrunched face.

Sam shrugged, “I agree,” he said softly.

Dean felt knocked back a step, he wasn’t expecting him to agree - not so quickly, at least.

“What?” Dean barked.

Sam zoned in on the door of her house, frowning slightly.

“I agree, Dean,” he said a bit louder. “If we go in there and she’s summoned her friend’s spirit, I agree that she should have to be there so that she can learn why she can’t do that.”

Dean pursed his lips, “okay, then. Good,” he said, rotating around and walking up the steps.

Bursting through the door, the brothers stumbled into the living room. Finding their balance, their eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. Sam’s eyes took note of the burnt out candles, wrapped in a perfect circle around a picture of her friend. The breath he hadn’t realized he was holding escaped him when he rotated around and saw her.

The room was cold, but that wasn’t was had her huddled up with her knees pressed against her chest, her arms wrapped around them and her head resting on top. Leaving Dean to examine the seance circle, he slowly approached her. He bent over and set a hand on her arm, feeling that she was shaking. She ignored him, continuing to rock back and forth, soft sobs leaving her in rhythms.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

Without removing her head from her knees, she ceased the crying enough to apologize. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he carefully grabbed onto the sides of her face and pulled her head up to face him. “Hey,” he said. “What happened? Where is your friend?”

“I - I got rid of her,” she sputtered, “for now, I guess,” she cried.

Sam’s eyes struggling to examine her in the darkness, he moved his hands down her to inspect for wounds. “Did you get hurt?” he asked, gliding his hands down her arms and legs, looking for blood.

She pulled herself away from him, groaning as she brought herself to her feet. “Only when I fell,” she said softly. “I’m fine, I just tripped,” she said in a shaky voice, walking over to turn the lights on.

She could see the two of them then. Dean was frowning, eyebrows pressed together and arms folded in front of him. Sam left his body open to her, head tilted slightly and eyes as warm as ever. All of her words escaped her in that moment. The only thing she wanted to do was apologize.

“Get me out of here, please,” she said, turning to Sam. He nodded, wrapping her in his arms and leading them towards the door.

As they approached the Impala, Dean eased up little by little. After helping Y/N into the back seat of the car, he shuffled into the front seat and flipped around to check on her. When he locked eyes with Dean, he knew what he needed to say.

“Y/N,” he said, turning back around to face her glistening eyes. “You remember what needs to be done to get rid of spirits completely, right?”

Without looking up at him, she fiddled with her hands, mumbling out a ‘yes.’ Sam nodded, flipping back around in the seat and giving Dean the ‘okay’ to push on.

The sky had dimmed into a dark purple by the time they had arrived. Y/N felt a knot in her stomach, the pain she had felt before summoning her friend tightening. Regret washed over her as they slowly walked to the grave, shovels in hand.

Despite the scowl on Dean’s face, Y/N let the tears come and go as they dug into the dirt she spent hours and hours speaking to, allowing herself breaks when the tears made her weak. She felt lost and in pain, but she knew that she wasn’t alone. Any moment the rattling in her heart took over, Sam would be right there, stroking her hair or rubbing her back as she cried into him.

Dean wasn’t pleased with the interruptions, but he at least held sympathy for the girl. He knew, just as Sam did, that losing people you care most about is one of the toughest things to deal with - he just didn’t express himself in that way, so while he was the one to dig into her friends grave the most, it didn’t bother him as much as it would have had it been just him and Sam.

When he heard the clink the shovel made against the casket, he gave Sam a small nod. Clearing the rest of the dirt away, he opened it. Sam held Y/N in his arms, letting her take her time before peering into the ground at her friend. Dean held the salt in one hand, lighter fluid in the other and waited for Y/N’s okay.

When she nodded, he began to pour them in. No words were spoken until he finished. He tossed the cans to the side and reached into his pocket for a match, Y/N gasping out breath that hinted at the beginning of a sentence. Holding the unlit match in his hands, he shifted his attention up at Y/N.

“Can I do that part?” she asked hesitantly, Sam gripping onto her hand. Dean nodded, handing her the book of matches.

She stared at the flame she held in her hands for a great while, letting it burn out before she had the chance to throw it into the pit. Sam gently pulled the book from her shaking hands, lighting another match and placing it between her fingers. Holding onto her hand, he smiled at her affectionately, before throwing the match in together. Tears filled Y/N’s eyes once again as she watched her friend’s body turn into ash as the night bore on.

<3 Tags: @fangirl490 @waywardblueshun

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margridarnauds · 5 years

Note

for the ship headcanon thing, peyronan + whichever you most want to answer!

I have been Summoned by the word “Peyronan”

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Ronan, while they were mid-cuddle and he was on the verge of going to sleep. It takes Lazare, like, several days to croak it out himself because he’s still in utter, absolute shock and trying to recover. If he ever does before You Know What happens, in which case it’s one of Lazare’s biggest regrets. And Ronan dies believing that Lazare, despite everything else, never truly loved him.

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Laz is TERRIFIED that Ronan’s going to die from it, like...he consults his regiment’s physician and everything, trying to figure out the PERFECT cure, he fusses over Ronan day and night, constantly checks his temperature, it’s utterly adorable. To everyone except Ronan (though Ronan isn’t above feigning sleep so that Lazare will press his hand to his forehead longer), who really, really wants to get up and walk around and...no, Laz, I promise I won’t die if I take two steps out of bed. Yes, I’m sure. He gets a chicken soup recipe from his company’s physician and MAKES IT HIMSELF, spoonfeeding it to Ronan.

Ronan has simultaneously never felt so touched or so smothered in his life.

Meanwhile, Lazare firmly believes that he CAN’T get a cold, because obviously, if he could, then he would have gotten one as a child. Completely ignoring that he DID get them as a child, but Grandpapa de Fuck made him do drills through them anyway, even when he really, really shouldn’t have.

Spoiler alert: He can. And he does. About a week later. Then it’s up to Ronan to take care of him, and for all of his complaints about mother-henning, Ronan’s not THAT much better. The regiment’s physician, and the regiment as a whole, have never been so GRATEFUL to see The Colonel’s Peasant Boyfriend in their LIVES, because Lazare is not a particularly easy patient. He can take orders with everything BUT the doctor telling him that he needs to stay in bed and off the job for a few days.

15. When they watch a film what do they choose and why? Who gets the final vote?

Lazare is perfectly happy to watch a science documentary most of the time. Ronan tends to like the crappiest films imaginable so he can poke fun at them (though his taste is bad enough that what is ACTUALLY crappy and what is a Bonafide Ronan Favorite is very, very thin.) Since Lazare is ALSO perfectly fine leveling snark at the worst films imaginable while his boyfriend "discretely” tries to cuddle up to him, they tend to go with that. (It is not discreet. At all. Because it’s Ronan, but Lazare at least PRETENDS to be taken aback when he looks down and sees Ronan there, popcorn in hand. Lazare doesn’t even know HOW Ronan got popcorn, but he did.) GENERALLY, Ronan gets the deciding vote, but if nothing else, they’re both pretty fine with just doing their own things on their laptops/phones.

16. When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?

Can neither confirm nor deny that I have a longstanding 1789 Zombies AU in progress that...one day, I REALLY need to do work on, because I had that one well-plotted out and everything and it’s been well over a year now. But, suffice it to say, they actually get a lot closer, because one of the things that’s kind of a staple of zombie stories from The Night of the Living Dead onwards is that societal boundaries just kind of...collapse. Things that are SUPPOSED to be important, like funerals, just...stop being as important, as people rush to defend themselves. So, with Peyronan, a lot of the things that would NORMALLY matter to both of them (homosexuality still being on the books as a crime, their social statuses, the tension between the revolutionaries and the Monarchy)...I’m not going to say they STOP mattering entirely, but they become a lot less important in terms of the larger goal, which becomes survival.

I do think, though, that the casual way that Lazare deals with the zombies really horrifies Ronan at first, as he tends to see it as one more sign that Lazare is A Murderering Murderer who doesn’t have a conscience, but then as time goes on it becomes VERY obvious that Lazare is doing this off of experience. He’s already figured out how the transmission of the virus works via trial and error, he’s figured out that there’s NOT a cure for it, and that the only way to ensure that a zombie isn’t formed is...well...making sure that the body doesn’t survive long enough to become one and then burning it for good measure.

17. When they find a time machine, where do they go?

@lochley and I have a long, longstanding AU with Lore and everything where they...don’t INTENTIONALLY go to the Cretaceous Era, but they end up there anyway. So, yes, Ronan + Laz + Dinos: A winning combination.

In terms of “Things that I could see the two of them actually doing In Canon...” I honestly think it would be hilarious to see the two of them fucking up the age of Louis XIV. Alternatively, Ronan and Laz + the Romans. Because there’s SUCH a huge classical influence at this point in time that I can SEE it.

18. When they fight, how do they make up?

They have some absolutely FURIOUS arguments, usually with one of them storming off (generally Ronan), they have several hours to cool down, possibly cry a little (though if either one of them SEES the other crying, it tends to immediately end then. Because neither one of them can really see that and hold onto the anger,) then they go into Pining Mode, and then one of them will inevitably awkwardly knock on the door and they’ll actually TALK. Neither one of them can fundamentally EVER stay mad at the other for too long.

19. Where do they go on their first date?

Most of the time, I’m going to have to say “The Bastille” for obvious reasons, but in at least one reincarnation AU I’ve considered, they run into each other at college. Ronan’s initially pissed because the prissy law student wasn’t looking at where he was going and bumped into him, then somehow this all led to said prissy law student asking him out to the coffee shop in the library in-between classes as an apology.

20. Where do they go on holiday?

Bold of you to assume that Lazare understands what the word “holiday” is.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

The Jacobin Club, Versailles...besides that, really anywhere out in public. For obvious reasons. Even if people thought they were FRIENDS, it would be cause for scandal, much less the truth.

In the Modern AU, things have thawed a lot, but Laz still doesn’t really feel comfortable with Ronan’s friends. It’s not even that they actively hate one another, it’s just...they’re RONAN’S friends. And Laz is still a socially awkward parrot in any timeline.

Also, the Chateau de Peyrol. That place REALLY creeps Ronan out. Really, really, REALLY creeps him out, and Laz really doesn’t like going there either. There’s a REASON why Laz tends to stick to Paris for the most part when he can, or else going around the provinces.

22. Where does their first kiss happen?

In terms of Canonverse, I do tend to lean towards the Bastille. It’s the easiest place to assume a relationship upgrade. (And the fact that we do have this.) Not really original, but...well....Les Amants de la Bastille. And it’s not like they have THAT much range as far as locations, anyway. Given the whole “secret relationship” thing.

23. Where is their favourite place to be together?

Underneath a tree somewhere, watching the stars together on a cool night. (Bonus if Lazare *has* to share his coat with Ronan because it suddenly turned chilly.)

25. Why do they fight?

The sad thing in the canon verse is that, while there are probably about two-ish months that you can wiggle in where they weren’t quarreling (From ~May 3, when Ronan “escaped” the Bastille to June 2, when the printing shop was raided and Ronan re-joined the Revolution and then, depending on whether or not we’re going with the Takarazuka/Toho timeline or not, from June 2 to June 20th with the Tennis Court Oath. Which...in that timeline is DOUBLY sad because Lazare would have been fully under the belief that Ronan had given up the Revolution for him. And then...well...canon happened. Ronan Was Ronan), a LOT of their relationship was spent under fire.

Most common topics tend to be their respective loyalties, Lazare’s increasing brutality towards civilians, where the Revolution is taking Ronan, Ronan wanting Lazare to leave the Army in favor of him, etc. (Ronan tends to see the Army + Laz relationship in very simplistic terms: Remove Laz from the army and he has his beloved boyfriend back and whole and safe, without the darkness of the Comte de Peyrol. The problem, obviously, is that it ISN’T that simple. Laz can’t easily remove himself from something that’s been his WHOLE LIFE, just like Ronan can’t easily remove himself from the Revolution.) Sometimes, Ronan doesn’t really understand Laz’s attempts at lessening the tension via buying things, thinking that Laz is trying to buy him off somehow, when...to Laz...that’s really the only MODEL that he has for this kind of thing. Aristocratic men keep their lovers in fancy apartments and buy them things regularly, that’s just...how it goes. But Ronan doesn’t love The Comte de Peyrol, he loves Lazare, and the reminder of how different their experiences are...doesn’t always sit well.

And then there are the usual domestic disputes that boil over quickly.

Personally, I think that had things gone better for them in canon, those disputes, while a FEW of them would have obviously lingered, would have lessened. Laz might have very well left the Army of his own accord post-1789, it would have DEFINITELY been a possibility post-1791, Ronan might have felt less pressure to be a Revolutionary™ in the time between the October Days and the Varennes Flight, he might have been more willing to run away with Laz to someplace far away.

They just had the misfortune of getting into a relationship in a very, very tumultuous time and not having the time to really sort it out. On one hand, they’re having this rush of being in their first real relationship and having all these new, terrifying feelings, but then they aren’t REALLY given the chance to explore them before it’s all snatched away.

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?

...When do these two NOT need to have a serious chat, for some reason or another? See the above for a laundry list of reasons, which still doesn’t mention the whole “Killed Ronan’s father” thing.

I found this in my R/L folder and had forgotten it was in there.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Ronan lives for those little moments where Laz is ever so slightly more HUMAN. Those moments where Laz comes to bed late and pulls him closer as soon as he gets in or nestles his head into his neck, those little half-smiles that he’s pretty sure are reserved almost exclusively for him, the dry jokes that it takes Ronan a few moments to realize ARE jokes because he’s so used to Lazare being perceived as humorless, dinnertime discussions where Ronan tries to see how many awful ways he can flirt with Lazare before he gets The Eyeroll™ (it’s never made it to more than two times), getting to curl up on the couch with him, the little moments where Laz is so CONCENTRATED on something that he doesn’t even notice Ronan (and he does try, like a cat, to see how much he can distract him. He WILL sit on Lazare’s lap when he’s in the middle of harpsichord practice), the forehead kisses that mean so much MORE coming from someone who he knows they don’t come naturally to, the hand kisses that are so reverent that it knocks Ronan off his feet every time that Lazare does it, getting to fall asleep to the steady beat of Lazare’s heartbeat.

That’s his Lazare, and it’s the Lazare that the world can absolutely never know.

And Lazare falls in love with Ronan’s life repeatedly. The tackle hugs, the kisses whenever he gets home, his terrible, terrible attempts at jokes, the moments when they’re fighting where Ronan looks him eye to eye and on one hand Lazare is furious but on the other hand he’s also impressed, his idealism, whenever he turns over and sees Ronan asleep and vulnerable and his heart just clenches at the thought of anything happening to him, the moments where Ronan can SEE that he’s too focused on his job at the moment and pulls him away (and Lazare can admit that, yes, his work was all the better for having a few moments of break), his absolutely garish choices in outfits, the way that he plays with Lazare’s hair when they’re waking up in the morning, how DEFENSIVE he’ll get of Lazare whenever Lazare offhandedly mentions something about his childhood or his later career, the compassion that he shows, albeit in his own odd way, towards the underdogs, even if Lazare believes that it’s ultimately futile. (”Futile” in this case means “...Of course we’ll adopt Stray Dog #10).

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?

Is this the second time I’ve used this gif today? Yes. Do I care? No.

They have their issues, definitely more than the average couple, but ultimately they’re both stubborn, they’re both DEEPLY devoted to one another, they both act as a push-pull force on one another to keep each other in check (with Lazare’s level-headedness serving as a buffer for Ronan’s impulsiveness and Ronan’s spark and idealism motivating Lazare), both of them ultimately learn a LOT from one another and their perspective, and, even though fighting all the time is obviously not the sign of a happy, well-adjusted couple, they TEND to default to an Old Married Couple dynamic, especially since a lot of their bickering, sans near the end where Lazare goes over several lines, is primarily bourne out of WORRY for one another. Both of them feel like the other’s side is using them, both of them are right, but unfortunately they don’t have the same hindsight when it comes to their OWN side.

And, even though they have SUCH a massive power imbalance between them, especially at the beginning, Lazare is so...shocked, really, by the turn of events and so infatuated for the first time that Ronan really, really does have most of the power there, and he mainly uses it for good, bringing Lazare out of his shell as steadily as he can. And sometimes he overreaches, sometimes he missteps or blunders or doesn’t know the full scope of a situation before he throws himself into it, because he’s RONAN, but ultimately, he does care for Lazare and Lazare still cares for him.

Had things been different and they’d had to part ways post-canon instead of The Thing Happening, I don’t really see them taking anyone else on BECAUSE they’re so really...focused on one another. Like, anyone who Laz would so much as LOOK at (which is impressive in its own right since Laz is...very, very picky. I lean towards him being either demisexual or gray-asexual, but the point is that the boy does NOT normally find people attractive) would have to be compared unfavorably to Ronan, and Ronan is going to compare anyone to Laz, and they’re simply not going to match up, because for better AND worse, the two of them have had such a cataclysmic impact on one another’s lives.

And no matter what, they WILL reconcile at the end of things. It might take them into the afterlife, but they will figure out a way to make things work. It’s there in the French, it’s...not as present in the Zuka, but there’s at least the implication that Ronan is seeking out Laz in the afterlife even if Laz is rejecting that redemption at the moment, and Toho was homophobic and simply gave us Angel Ronan on a Platform. (Okay, not a LITERAL angel, but like. Ghost who’s ascended to a higher plan of existence.) But it’s so IMPORTANT to me that the French begins with Ronan seeking out revenge against Lazare and ends with their wedding reconciliation in the afterlife. Both sides FINALLY find peace.

#otp: he would be troubled if you died on him #peyronan #food tw #1789 les amants de la bastille #i just...i love my sons. so much #they love each other so much #and i have no idea how much of this is coherent given it's an ungodly hour where I'm at but OH WELL #am i ever REALLY coherent when talking 1789?#the answer is no #vierschanzentournee

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