#they’d equally give each other so much shit and (in some cases) stick up for each other. I love how I can just flesh them out more | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ov105 · 3 years

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Best friends, right?

Hello and Merry Christmas everyone! Just thought of something quick for you all after that long while of ironing out Karina.

Though as you’ve noticed, I’ll just continue upkeep of this account to crosspost my work between here in AFF, in hopes of reaching a wider audience.

4,487 words of Luda.

In case I don't see you: Good afternoon, good evening, and good night! Merry Christmas, and may God bless you all.

Saturday day-off is a clause coated in cookie batter for the newly minted working man, dipped in sugar, and drizzled with honey. Driving up the spiral ramps at the mall parking lot with Luda on the passenger seat at 8:45 in the morning was pretty much an ideal way to catch up on an otherwise quick weekend. Going to the cinema this early was a bit odd, but then being the better man, I can only remain stubborn for so long and not go at all.

“Wow, nobody here,” I said as I exited right on the top floor. The morning light gave a somewhat expansive view of the near-empty lot, knowing for myself that most of the time it’d have rows upon rows of cars any time of the day - but not this early, save for the few tenants that pulled up much earlier than us. Being a relative opportunist, I decided to forego the big yellow arrows to cut some rows of parking to get a sweet spot on the edge of the lot.

“Wow, big brain, huh?” Luda said as I made a left turn and cut through diagonally through two rows of unoccupied parking. Before returning with a right turn and stopping at where I intended us to be.

“Not like they’d care, even at uni, the guard doesn’t give a shit if I pulled this,” I replied, pulling the parking brake up.

We can’t get out of the car either way, so I just left everything as is as I reclined, leaned forward, reached down to pull a cold lever, and pushed back my seat. Stretching and fishing my phone from my jacket as I laid down lazily. I had been unable to check my notifications as it pinged, again and again, earlier that day while I was eating, in the shower, and dressing up. Only to find out it was some things that I forgot to do and kept on bugging me. It was pretty much a bummer.

“How long do we have to wait?” Luda said, turning the knob and turning it down a notch.

“Just turn it off,” I said, referring to the radio, “An hour I think? An hour and fifteen minutes to be sure,” I continued, answering her question.

After that, we spent ten or so minutes catching up on what we had missed. It’d only been a year since we graduated, but things always feel different when jumping to a new chapter. There’s that idea of feeling like not sticking in your new environment, but in reality, I probably just don’t know that I’m one of them already - the only catch is I’m still stuck in the past. My friends dearly reminded me of that past.

It was a slow start, but later on, I was at the same pace we both shared when we talked with each other. It was reminiscent of the school cafeteria, just dropping everything and talking, joking, and talking again. Soon after that yellow brick road, we were back talking about our hobbies; Luda with her postcards and calligraphy, and I with my photography.

"So, when are you going to be my portrait model?” I asked, “You know, I've been looking for someone to practice my shooting skill on,” rubbing my hands around, a bit nervous, “You can be a nice model, you know."

"I don't know,” Luda said, averting her eyes down, “You know I'm not really that pretty to be a model, nor do I have a supermodel body," she continued.

"Hey, you've always been a cutie. It’d be great to see your eyes smile in my camera roll."

Luda gave a glance, then scoffed at the compliment.

"Fine, as for the body part,” I said, taking a glance to her chest, “I guess you're somewhat right.”

"Hey! It’s not like you’re big anyway," she replied, coming at her defense.

"Well, I can say yours is true, but there's no way you can tell it for me," I replied, cackling as I enjoy my victory in our little argument.

At least that’s what I thought. Then, a bolt of lightning.

"You sure about that?" Luda said as her arm darted out and ducked between my shorts, quickly grabbing, and worse, squeezing my member with her fingers. Surprised, I swatted her hand away, closing my thighs on instinct.

“Yah!” Missing her hand as she reeled it back.

“Ah, so I was right after all,” she said.

“Ha?!” I replied with an eyebrow raised and sounding agitated. However, my brain was sifting through whether or not I was to be pissed off, surprised, or aroused.

“I guess we’re equal now, you are not that big either..,” Luda said, as she looked at me with a mischievous face while pinching her finger.

Then the thunder struck.

“But it seems like it is getting bigger.., are you actually having a boner for your best friend?”

Luda's face was as blank as a statue before erupting into awkward laughter.

“Ha! I guess all men are the same!” Luda said.

“Bullshit!” I scoffed, “Well, this is the natural reaction! I can’t control it, plus, you touched where you shouldn’t be touching!” I replied, now growing even more confused by the situation, unsure whether I should get angry or just get over it.

Then lightning struck, the thunder of primal instinct along with it.

“You know… I’ve always wondered how it’s gonna be like. Can I touch it again?” Luda looked at me with her puppy eyes.

What? That’s all I have in my mind - What did she just say?

“If you’re shy, you can just let me have a look,” Luda kept her gaze at me with a naughty expression as she spoke.

“I’m not shy, but this is a public area,” I stressed as I looked around, “Plus, you sure this is what best friends do?” I replied.

“I’m not sure that is what best friends should do, but I’m sure,” she said, “I want to touch it again. Please?” Luda asked again, and no, it’s not what friends typically do.

It is those eyes again, I swear. Those puppy eyes just make me put my guard down.

“Just once,” I said, holding a finger up, “And you’re not going to do this again,” I finally gave in to her unusual request.

“Just relax. I know we’ll both keep quiet,” Luda said, leaning close. I was expecting to have to spend more than I should today, or that maybe we’d go home a while after the mall closes in the evening. I wasn’t expecting to get head from one of my best friends.

Luda's small palm hovered over the slight bulge on my shorts before her long, spindly fingers grabbed my bulge and squeezed me again. Going tighter as my blood slowly tensed my muscles on her grip. Her hands then slid up and unbuttoned me.

“Ya!?” I asked her, though not acting on her hand this time. She just giggled a bit.

“I only said touch, not see,” I said

"I just wanted to have some extra fun," Luda replied as she giggled again.

"That's not how friends have fun, and you know we are still in a public area, right?" I said as I held onto her hand.

"Yeah, in between 2 empty cars in a far corner of an unopened mall, what could go wrong, right?" Luda said, a bit sarcastically, as she freed her hand away from mine.

“Fine, fine, I’m not supposed to let you have it, but I guess this is the benefit of being a friend for a decade, just a peek, I’m not expecting you to do anything more stupid than this,” and there I gave in again, for whatever reason that is.

“You know I never expected to see my best friend’s dick, but this feels really fun,” Luda replied as she’s giggling and unzipping my pants like a happy little child that is unwrapping her Christmas present.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this too,” I sighed as I’m still in a state of disbelief, looking at my best friend that is now trying to dig my member out of my pants.

And the thunder struck again, like one that came off a grade 5 hurricane.

"Do you remember that you said we might end up together if no one wants us? At this rate, both of us nerds are gonna be single forever," She said as she started to lean closer and closer.

“Why not just let me practice what is bound to happen to us anyway? Luda replied as she stared at me from below.

Feeling uneasy as I feel like she’s gonna do something worse or better, I just stared blankly at her and sighed.

“Are you trying to do what I think you’re going to do?” I said as I got more and more intrigued by the situation.

“I guess best friends think alike?” Luda looked at me and slightly adjusted her specs as if she’s giving out a hint.

“Fine. I wasn’t expecting this, but fine, just do whatever you want to do, at least make a good job out of it,” I spoke my mind. All but a human still with the warmth of her fingers over me, waving my white flag up.

“Wasn’t expecting to do this on a movie day, but don’t you worry, I’ll help you fix your boner issue,” Luda said with a slightly naughty expression as she took her hands out, pulled down my shorts, and swatted it off as it hung on my shoes.

Her spindly fingers grabbed my cock again through my boxers, then rubbing the cloth with her palm. Glancing at her, one that caught her eye as she bit her lip. I could feel she was ready to back out, but it was too far for either of us even then. I don’t know why I got hard faster than I thought I would’ve as Luda rubbed her fingers on where my tip was.

Thinking it was a bit uncomfortable for her to be leaning over from her side just to suck me off, I told her to stop as I pushed my seat the furthest it could go.

“Get over here. We only have 45 minutes,” I beckoned her. Luda looked around a bit as she moved to my side of the car, giving one last look at her cute face before she’d defile the sight of it forever as she knelt before me. Her hands continued to rub me over my underwear, her fingertips pressing slightly harder as she traced my shaft and closing together as she rubbed my tip. I guess being a calligrapher helped how she hadn’t choked me yet. I was surprised to feel her grabbing my balls and squeezing them a bit. She did her homework, I guess.

She giggled again, covering her mouth with her hands before she let out what was, by now, the obvious.

“Ah, this is so dirty!”

I mean, if you’ve been friends for ten years, since the wee days of just starting in high school. After all that time, we’ve seen each other grow as individuals. Add to that, after an ex-boyfriend. It really would be dirty for her to be in front of me and just one pull away from seeing my cock.

“Fuck it.”

Luda just said, darting her hands into the hem of my boxers and pulled it down. My cock sprung, half-hard, as she grabbed it. Luda quickly began stroking it with a hand as the other crept up on my thigh. It took her wrists a while to get it right, leading me from there, with a girl’s pale white fingers pressing against the brown foreskin, trapping it in with her soft palm as she went along with her hand job. Her thumb kept on sliding up the underside of my tip, which only helped my veins hoist my shaft up with her stroking.

I could slowly feel my brain turn to mush as Luda's soft hand made quick work of me, making it worse as she switched from her right to left palm. Being a leftie, she instantly ended up being much more in control; her touch felt beautiful. Slowing down as she moved her palm out of the way, keeping her fingers around my cock as she opened her mouth, her tongue emerging between her teeth.

Luda then stopped stroking, pulled my cock close to her tongue, and licked it, not just once, but twice. Stroking back again as she glanced up, giggling as she looked down, and giving another glance as she stuck her tongue and licked the whole way upward. When my ex would do this, I’d already let out at least a whimper by this time. It was still odd with my best friend giving it to me, but as she repeated the touch of her tongue on my shaft, she was showering that away.

Twitching once the first time her tongue licked around my tip, she just gave me a look of “I told you so” before throwing back as if to insult me for what my body was telling her.

“I told you, all men are the same.”

Luda said as she wrapped her lips around the tip, rounding her tongue around it a few times before a wet smooch followed as she pulled back. It was a sight straight out of an adult video.

“Where did you learn that?” I asked.

“Ex,” She replied, stroking me a few times. Her tongue was licking upwards. It was clear she was trying to woo me over. Hearing a few giggles here and there as she knew this sudden change of plans was neither on our mental checklists for today.

“Relax, just relax,” Luda cooed at me as she wrapped her lips around the tip before pushing forward and taking me into her mouth. It was warmth. It was bliss as her tongue slid under, her small lips parted open as an inch-and-a-half was inside her mouth. She slid her fingers through her dark brown hair and kept them down her left side as she went down another inch.

Luda looked up at me and still had her large specs on, her small mouth enclosed around my cock, and her tongue playing around. When I met her years ago, I couldn’t tell myself that I would’ve wanted this to happen.

She closed her eyes, then pulled back just to the tip before pushing down, taking an inch or two in as she bobbed around for a bit. She took me off from her mouth as she made herself a ponytail, leaning in and playing around with my tip using her lips as she did. As soon as her hands were off her hair, she quickly dived down, not stopping until I felt my head knock the back of her mouth. Luda furrowed her eyebrows a bit, hearing a gag as her mouth contracted around it. Before pulling back with a gasp, saliva all over her lips as she licked them, a few falling down the side before she caught me by the tip again.

Making sure I felt at home as she kept her gaze at me, lips sucking around my tip and making me twitch a bit as that electrifying feeling ran through my nerves. Though now, her gaze was very much different. It was less unsure and more seductive. Showing me how she has gained her footing as her tongue licked into my slit, making my jaw drop and my cock throb slightly in her lips. Hearing her giggle before she pushed down again.

Watching as Luda knelt, bobbing her head on my cock, seeing my shaft glisten while listening to her small moans as she became more daring. Always a few inches in, but never taking it deep down her throat. She tried earlier, though now she wanted to prove herself well to her friend - and she was doing it excellently.

By now, my cock was turning from an ordinary pink to a darker pink shade, aside from how it glistened with her saliva on it. It reflected what I couldn’t tell my best friend; that she was making me feel good.

Luda moaned as she kept her pace halfway down on my cock. I thought it would be appropriate to return at least half of the pleasure she’s giving now, sitting up a bit with my hand sliding down her collar, fingers searching for the garter of her bra, following it down and sliding my hand into her bra, grabbing hold of one of her soft tits. They were small, but they were still soft. She whimpered a bit as I squeezed it, taking me deeper inside her in return. The feeling of getting sucked deeper made me bite my lip and groan; it just felt too good.

Luda's cheeks and small mouth didn’t struggle too much. Judging from how good and warm she’s making me feel, getting an involuntary throb from my cock a few times. Though now she wanted a bit more as she started getting louder, my nerves feeling the seal of her lips wrap tighter around my base, and even more so around my tip. This forced her to lean forward, and in turn, upward. I was lying down as she made a slight list, still allowing me to reach for her bra.

Now that the light was able to shine on how Luda's pink tongue made circles, then her lips kissed, took in, and then dived on my cock. A loud slurp followed as she rounded off at the tip of me, hearing a giggle as my legs shook a bit. Flashing that eye smile as she slowly took in all the inches I could give as I slid atop her palate to the back of her mouth. The tension throughout just had my toes curled as she did it again and again, and when she saw how my neck was beginning to sweat bullets because of it, that’s how she carried on.

“If you’re gonna keep playing around like that, just deepthroat me already,” I told her.

“As you wish then.”

Luda went up top, her tongue flashing a bit as she rounded my tip, before her lips wrapped around the head as tight as she could and went down to the base. Hearing her gag as it hit and went past the back of her mouth, that feeling of her mouth contracting as the pink tip of my cock went the deepest it could go. Her cute face scrunched up as her throat got tighter and another gag before she reeled back, a huge gasp following as my cock sprung out of her little mouth.

Fuck, Luda mouthed.

Before the first drip touched my crotch, Luda's lips wrapped around my head and went back down to the base in what was an unpredictable move. She rose back up halfway and pushed herself down again, with a gakt! as her throat gagged, her eyes and nose scrunching too as she got to grips with me being this deep. I thought the worst of it and her making a mess of us before our day has even started.

Luda then looked up to me as she pulled back; Give it to me.

Closing her eyes as a series of gags filled the air, each gritter than the last before she stopped and gasped just as I watched her tongue swipe left to right, before leaning in and licking my tip as I throbbed.

I thought about going harsh on her, living a wild fantasy I only had seen before in porn. As she put her lips around my cock again, my hands got to the back of her head and pushed her down, and for the first time, I thrust my hips up into her throat. A loud gag from Luda followed as her fingers dug into my thighs. I looked down to see my friend; saliva dripping down the sides of her lips, her dark hair looked like a mess, her eyes only said one thing; get on with it.

Putting my fingers where I could get a good grip on Luda's head, I pushed her back against my crotch again. Groaning weakly as I began to fuck her throat. Her hands held onto my thighs as I relished in the feeling of pushing down against the depth she could go, while I was beginning to reach cloud nine as I kept hitting the back of her throat. The struggle being heard in her gags slowly turned from her coping with my tip spearing down her throat, her gags becoming moans as I used her mouth for myself.

“You like that?” I asked as I pushed her against me, though my grip held her tight as she began to gag on it. Realizing she can’t talk and only giving a muffled response, she just nodded.

Sitting up a bit as I got a fistful of Luda's hair, she gagged the whole time until I pulled her away from my cock. Wet lips and a thick trail of saliva dripped off her mouth as she held her mouth open.

“You like that?” I repeated.

“Love it. I wished my ex did the same to me too,” Luda replied, moving onto my cock despite the fistful of hair above her head. She wanted it so badly, though, of course, we were still best friends after this.

She then caught my cock again, her saliva and my precum dripping once or twice from the tip as it throbbed. It still was throbbing as Luda wrapped her lips around it, her tongue playing around my tip before I pushed a little deeper and her tongue laid under my shaft, and once that was done, I forced myself into Luda's mouth.

The squelching sound came off her lips as I bit my lip. Looking at Luda and reflecting on how she immediately flashed a smile as she got on the passenger seat almost an hour ago, with only a plan to catch up and see a movie. But now, as I looked down again to see the same eyes, with her lips wrapped around the smuttiest part, as I had a fistful of her hair as her cheeks bounced every time I smacked my crotch against her face and down her throat.

Feeling that familiar weight coming on as I edged closer to my release, I had ought to rush it. After all, this was just supposed to be quick. I was locking my legs up as I prepared to blow it down Luda's tight throat. I was pushing her faster against my crotch as her gags got louder and prominent. I was close to sending cum down her throat, and I wasn’t going to have her back out now.

I heard once that “A day with a blowjob from a good friend is always a great day,” and needless to say, I scrubbed it off as some crude porn joke. Though now, with Luda at the mercy of my loins, and how my cock was probably turning red with how fucking good it feels using her throat to let my cum out after a long, busy stint at work, perhaps it is a fact.

Her eye smile disappeared and almost begged me to finish as she forcibly closed them, gagging loudly as I throbbed near uncontrollably down her throat. The grip her throat gave as it contracted, seeking both pleasure and withstanding the pain of her best friend’s dick shoving itself down her throat. I just relished at the sight of her both in the throes of pain and pleasure. She knew that by how my fingers gripped her hair tight, and my shaft throbbing down her neck.

“Fuck, Luda,” was all I could say as that final throb came, and the surge of cum shot out of my tip, the first, weak shot, followed by the thick spurts of hot semen that left my loins and shot down into Luda's throat. Feeling myself crumple as I bit my lip and moaned behind it. My cock twitched as I moved and let out another spurt of cum as it slid back from her tight throat, now splattered white and trickling with cum after I just blasted all over it.

Letting go of her hair, and as soon as it hit her shoulders, Luda quickly pulled back; my cock plopped out of her mouth, dripping from all that saliva and cum it just let out. She just gasped, swallowing her saliva as her fingers rubbed her neck, wiping her lips with her wrist, before showing her tongue out with whatever cum she could bring up. She just giggled as she pulled herself back and reached for her purse.

“Fuck, that was something,” Luda said as she wiped her lips with the tissues she had in her bag.

Now I was vulnerable, and our day hasn’t even started. Luda just remained there, knelt before my now limp cock and cleaning herself. Only then, as she dabbed the tissue down her neck, clearing away whatever precum and saliva dripped down that, I knew I’d done her well.

Sliding a finger and flicking my cock, playing with it, though, in honesty, I was surprised that it wasn’t even my girlfriend who gave that, but one of the last persons on my list to make that move, less ask for it themselves. Luda just chuckled as I looked in awe at my own.

“Too bad I can’t clean that up for you. No worries, it’s all down my throat anyway.”

“Whatever,” I just replied. Both of us quickly molted back to being friends. Even after she had just sucked her best friend’s dick, and mind you, with par excellence, it wouldn’t change anything for us. It was just some fun banter that turned sexual, and now that’ll remain a truly closeted moment for us. We wouldn’t even have gathered an ounce of the gut, let alone think of it, and to ask this lewd favor just a few years ago.

“Do you think anybody saw us?” Luda said as she jumped back to her seat.

“It was none of their business,” I said, laughing, “They should’ve just wished it was them instead,” I continued, smirking.

“Ah, so you did like it?” Luda asked, although just moments earlier, while I gripped her, it had been obvious, “Besides, that’s the first time I got deepthroated, so thanks?”

“Yeah, right, my pleasure,” I replied sarcastically. Luda stood her ground and insisted, but I guess she already knew that I didn’t like it - I loved it.

“So, how long until it opens?” She asked, looking around again before focusing on her phone.

“15 minutes.”

#wjsn #mxf #fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #lee luda #luda

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henrycavillobsessed · 3 years

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Porcelain

Characters: Henry Cavill x Anwen Evans (fictional fiance)

Summary: Henry and Anwen’s life was perfect. Until one day, one phone call, changes everything.

Words: 3,444

TW/CW: Death, car accident, description of injuries, hospital, grief. Slight mention of implied sex; some bad language.

Notes: So here it is, my latest fanfic. It’s been a while, due to a bit of a mind block. The idea for this came to me, after being inspired by the song Porcelain by Emarosa (link below in case you’re interested). This one is different to my other fics, for one it’s not the usual Henry x reader narrative. I have created a character this time to act as his partner. Also this one is LONG (3,444 words). I have enjoyed writing a longer and more complex story and I hope you enjoy reading it. (As a warning, it’s SAD. I am not ashamed to admit I cried just writing it.)

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/7rk8cH53nI8ffb5ZccjfpT?si=QMVvEmA3TK-3WuQXJanMmQ

“Oww! Shit!”

Henry looked up from the book he was reading in bed. Anwen was rubbing her forehead and looking very wounded. She’d clearly just walked into the doorframe. Again. Henry laughed out loud.

“Don’t laugh at me!” A pillow flew through the air and missed its target of Henry’s face by a considerable amount. He laughed again.

“I can’t help it. You are so clumsy!”

Anwen climbed into bed, still massaging the sore spot on her head. She scowled at Henry. “If I remember correctly Mr Cavill, it was because of me being clumsy that meant we met for the very first time.”

“Hmm,” Henry reached over and gathered her up in his arms, leaning back against the headboard. He kissed her gently on the faint bruise that was blooming on her pale skin. “I do remember,” he said fondly.

It had been over five years ago now. Henry was out with his friend and colleague Simon Pegg, drinking their way through some of London’s best nightclubs. It had been a great night so far, with both men enjoying their freedom; they’d recently finished filming their latest movie and were celebrating. Henry was feeling happily tipsy, and when Simon offered to go to the bar for another round, he didn’t refuse.

“Get some shots too!” he shouted at Simon’s back as he left their table. Simon waved a hand in response; Henry took that as a yes and smiled. He was just checking his Instagram on his phone when something- someone- crashed into him and he felt the cold wetness of a spilt drink over his shoulder and down his shirt. He looked up incredulously. A woman was stood there with an empty glass and an equally shocked expression.

“Oh, my go- I am so sorry!” she said in a very attractive Welsh accent, Henry thought. He felt his annoyance dissipate immediately.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, accidents happen. How much have you had to drink anyway?” he asked cheekily.

The woman’s ivory skin blushed, contrasting prettily with her ebony hair, which was cascading around her shoulders in thick waves.

“Um, I actually don’t drink,” she admitted. “I have just shown you how uncoordinated I am; I really don’t need to throw alcohol into the mix.”

“Very wise. Hi, I’m Henry Cavill.”

“Anwen Evans, nice to meet you.” They shook hands and were making pleasant small talk when Simon returned with the drinks.

“What on earth happened to your shirt?” he asked Henry.

“Anwen happened. Anwen, this is my friend Simon Pegg.”

Anwen’s face lit up. “I love your movies! Hot Fuzz is just hilarious!” she said to Simon, who smiled widely and they spent the next few moments quoting lines from the film. Simon looked sideways at Henry, and saw the way he was looking at Anwen, and cleared his throat.

“Well, it’s been lovely to meet you, but I must get on. Henry, I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, winking at his friend. Henry mouthed a silent thank you, grinning.

After Anwen explained to her girlfriend’s that she was going to continue the night with Henry, prompting a lot of excited giggling and whispering, she sat herself down at Henry’s table. The hours flew by as they got to know each other. Anwen was an up-and-coming chef, who’d recently opened a new restaurant nearby in London. She told Henry about the restaurant’s menu, and Henry promised to try it out soon. In return, Henry told her about the films he’d been in. He was mock-outraged when Anwen admitted she’d never seen a Superman movie, let alone Man of Steel, and laughing, she promised she’d check it out soon. Conversation naturally flowed between them, Henry felt so at ease with her, and it turned out they had quite a bit in common. As Henry told Anwen about his akita Kal, Anwen told him she also had a dog, a golden retriever named Ciri.

“Ciri?” Henry had asked. “As in Ciri from The Witcher?”

“Yeah! I’m such a huge fan, I’ve read all the books, and I’ve played all the games!”

Henry laughed. “You are never going to believe who I’ve just been cast as for my next job…” Anwen’s jaw dropped to the floor when he told her.

The night ended with Henry walking Anwen home to her nearby townhouse, and they shared their first kiss on the doorstep, swapping numbers with the promise to meet up again soon for a date.

Now back in the present, nearly six years later, Anwen had moved into Henry’s penthouse, with Ciri who Kal adored. Both dogs were curled up at the end of the bed now, fast asleep.

In Henry’s arms, Anwen cuddled in close. “Yes, so if it wasn’t for me tripping and drenching you that night we wouldn’t be here now, so stop taking the piss!”

“Okay, okay!” Henry laughed. “I do worry though, you know. You’re like… like porcelain. So easily broken. Be more careful, I’d hate for something to happen, for me to lose you. I love you so much, my Annie.”

“Don’t be so soft! I’m not going anywhere, not for a long time. And I’ll love you until the day I’m gone, and if I can love after, then I will then too. So shush,” Anwen replied, placing a kiss on his lips.

“Anyway, I’m not that breakable, I don’t think. Wanna test this theory?”

Swinging her legs around Henry’s waist, Anwen straddled him and seductively removed her top. She was braless underneath. Henry whistled low, and licked his lips.

“Yes ma’am.”

Henry and Anwen’s life continued in perfect bliss. Both had never been as happy as they were with each other. Anwen was now an established celebrity chef, having opened many more restaurants worldwide, written a few cookbooks and even been on television a couple of times. Henry’s career as an actor was skyrocketing, his role at Geralt in The Witcher making him a household name. This meant that he had to travel all around the globe for work, however this didn’t impact his and Anwen’s relationship in the slightest, as she regularly went with him, using the time to research new recipes for her business. When they had spare time, they enjoyed exotic holidays, and it was on the white powder sand of the Maldives that Henry proposed. Anwen had burst into tears and accepted immediately, and they’d spent the rest of that holiday on their private island mostly naked, enjoying each other as an engaged couple. Their home life was refreshingly normal however. Behind closed doors, they were just Henry and Anwen, not the famous actor and the celebrity chef. They both took in turns to cook dinner, did the housework together and spent the evenings cwtched up on the sofa watching old movies. Laughter was a staple in their home, in fact they only ever rowed when England played Wales at rugby during the Six Nations. Life was indeed bliss, and it seemed nothing could burst this content bubble they were living in.

One average day in late autumn, Anwen was sat at the kitchen table, with her laptop open in front of her and Ciri snoozing quietly at her feet. Dressed in a pair of comfy sweats and a loose off-the-shoulder jumper, her hair piled artfully messy on top of her head and holding a large cup of coffee in her hands, she was looking at wedding venues online, finally making a start on planning their special day. A huge binder was also open on the table with multiple sheets on paper sticking out of it. She’d made plenty of notes and had lots of ideas; it was now time to put them into action. Henry walked into the kitchen, looking very stylish in back jeans and a tight black t-shirt. He was holding Kal’s lead and the akita was tip-tapping on the tiles behind him, clearly very excited about going for a walk. Ciri didn’t even raise her head, happy enough to stay in with her mum and continue her nap.

“I’m going to take Kal with me to the meeting with my manager,” he said to Anwen. “Then do you fancy meeting me after with Ciri and we’ll take them for a walk in the park?”

“Yes, my love, sounds lush. How long will you be do you think?”

“Not sure, I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

“What are you up to today?” Henry asked, walking over to Anwen and kissing her on the top of her head. “Wedding stuff?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna send off some emails now this morning and then go to this bakery and try out some wedding cake samples,” Anwen smiled.

“Well, I’m jealous! Have a great day honey, I’ll call you later. Love you!”

“Love you, bye!” she called as he walked out the front door.

Henry’s meeting was going well. His manager had quite a few prospective roles lined up for him, and Henry was interested in the majority of them. His mind wandered to Anwen every so often; he still missed her when they were apart. As the meeting was coming to a close and Kal started getting excited again at going for another walk, Henry’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID- withheld number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr Henry Cavill? I’m a nurse here at London hospital. We have you down here as Miss Anwen Evans’s emergency contact.”

Henry paled. “Is she okay?”

“I’m afraid Miss Evans has been involved in a serious accident. We have her here at the emergency department. Can you get here straight away?”

Henry had never moved so quickly in his entire life. After giving his manager a hurried explanation and asking him whether he’d look after Kal, he’d gotten in his car and sped through the streets of London, not caring that he was breaking the speed limit. He parked illegally, jumping out of the vehicle and sprinting into the hospital. His mind was in overdrive, all sorts of scenarios going through his head. He felt sick with fear and exertion. Flying into the emergency room, he looked around wildly, finding a nurse sat at the front desk.

“Anwen Evans? I’m here for Anwen Evans, I’m Henry Cavill,” he cried desperately. The nurse didn’t hesitate.

“Come with me.”

She explained to Henry what had happened on the way. “Anwen was crossing the road at a zebra crossing when she tripped halfway, according to witnesses. There was a speeding car, who didn’t see her. He… he ran right over her. He didn’t stop. There are police looking for the car and driver as we speak.”

The flash of anger that Henry felt was so severe that his steps faltered for a second. But then he pushed it away, to be dealt with later. All that mattered now was Anwen.

“Mr Cavill, Anwen is in a bad way. She has a serious brain injury, and multiple body fractures. The trauma team managed to get her stable, but it’s touch-and-go. The next twenty-four hours are critical,” the nurse said gently. “Prepare yourself before you go in.”

She opened the door to the dimly lit room. The sound of machines beeping dominated the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. Henry moved closer to the bed, his mouth dry, hands shaking. His Annie was lying in the bed, connected to the machines, wires snaking out from every part of her it seemed. Her beautiful black hair was covered by thick white bandages wrapped around her head, and every part of her skin was purple and blue bruises. Her striking green eyes, usually so full of love and sparkle, were swollen shut. Henry had never seen anything so heartbreaking; tears coursed unbidden down his cheeks.

“Can I sit by her? Hold her hand?” he choked to the nurse.

“Of course, pet.”

He pulled up a chair to her bedside and ever so gently took Anwen’s hand in his. It was reassuringly warm. He could do nothing for a moment but stroke it slowly. Worry filled every part of his being.

“I’m here Annie. It’s your Henry. Come back to me, you can get through this,” he whispered, and then as sobs wracked through him, he added, “you said you’d love me until you’re gone and I’ll be damned if you’re going anywhere yet.”

For the next few hours, Henry didn’t leave Anwen’s side; he didn’t let go of her hand. He held onto hope that she would get better. After all, porcelain could break yes, but it could also be fixed. And he would do anything to fix her.

As it approached eighteen hours since Anwen’s accident, a nurse came into the room and caught Henry fighting not to fall asleep. She softly tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mr Cavill, go and get some rest. You’re more than welcome to use the family room just next door. Freshen up, get an hour or so sleep. If anything changes, I promise I’ll come and notify you immediately.”

Henry considered this, torn between not wanting to leave Anwen’s side and the need to at least wash his face.

“I’ll be half an hour, tops. Annie, I’ll be right back.” He put her hand down, and exited the room, rubbing his tired eyes as he went.

He hadn’t been gone five minutes when a terrifying beeping screeched out from Anwen’s room. He ran out of the bathroom still with wet hands, his heart in his mouth. He halted in the doorway, petrified at the scene unfolding in front of him.

A team of medics were working hard on her, the unrelenting beeping just adding to the frenzy of the situation. Anwen’s heart had stopped; someone fired up a defibrillator. The shock that went through her echoed in Henry. He just didn’t know what to do. He was vaguely aware of someone trying to lead him away but he just couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away, panic rising, threatening to overspill. His Annie, his Annie was there dying on that bed, and he couldn’t do anything but watch. And then suddenly, the most sinister sound yet. A flatline. Followed by a voice.

“We’ve lost her. Time of death, eight fifteen AM…”

Then silence.

The sound that tore its way up and out through Henry’s throat was that of a wounded animal. He screamed, the feeling pure agony.

“No! NO! There must be something you can do! My Annie! Annie…”

The doctor looked at him with sadness in his eyes. “I am so sorry, Henry. So sorry. Please, everyone, give him some space.”

The rest of his team followed him out; the nurse that had told Henry to go get some rest was crying silently.

Henry stood rooted to the spot, in a state of absolute denial. Only a day before they’d been in their kitchen together, making plans to walk their beloved dogs, she was planning their wedding. Their wedding. Agony ripped through his chest, sobs wracked his body, his breathing erratic, his heart shattered, never to be healed again. Broken, like porcelain.

Henry didn’t know how he got through the funeral. He’d been to the funeral home, and dressed her in her favourite dress and shoes, and spent a long time brushing out her hair; he’d done that when she was alive, but the familiar act did nothing to ease his pain. When he got to the church, he walked down the aisle with her coffin on his shoulder, his heart heavy because he should have been watching her walk down the aisle in a white flowing dress towards him, he should be becoming her husband, not burying her. When it came to reading her eulogy, he was overcome with emotion, for the first time in his life not able to talk in public. His mother helped him down from the podium; his father continued the speech. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

At the wake, he got blind drunk. No one saw him for a week afterwards.

The news of Anwen’s death was plastered all over the newspapers and online. Headlines such as “HENRY CAVILL FIANCE KILLED IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT” and “CELEBRITY CHEF ANWEN EVANS DEAD AT 27” accompanied photos of the both of them. The hole in Henry’s chest got bigger each time he saw it. He threw himself into his work; being someone else for at least 12 hours a day was easier than dealing with real life. Because the grief was all consuming, terrifying, never-ending. When he got home to his cold and empty penthouse, he couldn’t escape it; Kal and Ciri looked at him sadly every night, the question in their eyes: “where is our mummy?” Henry had no answers for them. He spent each evening sat in the dark, in silence. There was no laughter, no enjoyment in life since she’d gone.

A few weeks later, Simon came to visit. He’d been dropping in regularly, terribly worried about his friend. Henry looked, quite frankly, awful. His hair was long and the curls unkempt, he’d let his beard grow out and he had deep purple bags under his eyes. He’d lost a lot of weight too, although he hadn’t stopped working out. Simon sat down next to Henry on his sofa, nervously voicing the question he’d come round to ask.

“Henry, it’s the awards ceremony tonight. Will you be going?”

Henry looked at him like he’d gone mad.

“Look,” Simon continued. “You’ve been nominated for Best Actor. It’s highly likely you’re going to win. Remember how she… how Anwen was really looking forward to going.” This was true. The red dress she’d been planning to wear was still hung up on the back of the bedroom door. “If you don’t want to go for yourself, why don’t you go for her?”

Henry thought it over. He hadn’t been out, apart from work and the gym, since before the accident. The thought of going to such a high-profile event caused panic. Yet… an image of Anwen, smiling before him in that red dress suddenly entered his mind. She had been so excited; she’d even helped him write his acceptance speech in case he did in fact win Best Actor. Go for her, Simon had said…

And that’s how, just hours later, Henry found himself back on the red carpet, surrounded by flashing lights and crazed shouting as paparazzi tried to get his attention. He posed for a few photos before hurrying inside and taking his seat. He ate the extravagant three-course meal without really tasting it, drank the wine without really feeling it. Simon sat by his side, a welcome support; a truly great friend. Then, finally, it was time for the awards to be given.

Henry clapped and cheered as each person won their nominated categories; showing his support for his fellow actors and actresses. Seeing them so happy actually lifted his spirits for the first time since… before. Then it was time for the winner of the Best Actor award.

“And the winner is… HENRY CAVILL!”

Henry sat in shock as the cameras and spotlights panned to him. Simon was on his feet, screaming “I knew he’d do it!” and then he was helping Henry up. “Go on mate, to the stage. You won, you bloody won!”

In a daze, he walked towards the stage, then across it, accepting his award from the host. The applause was tumultuous; it took a few moments for it to die down, and then everyone in the audience was waiting expectantly for his speech. Henry drew a blank; he had no idea what to say.

“You can do it, handsome!” a heartbreakingly familiar voice whispered in his ear. He looked to the side and his breath hitched in his throat. Anwen was stood there, a wide grin all over her face, looking devastatingly beautiful in the red dress she’d planned to wear tonight.

“I’m right here with you. I love you.”

Tears welled and spilled from Henry’s eyes as he turned back to face the audience.

“This award,” he started. “is for my Anwen. My Annie. I couldn’t have been the actor who deserved it without her love and encouragement. She was my everything. She still is. I owe this, my entire career, my entire life to you, my angel. I miss you more than words can describe, and I love you even more.

As he left the stage to even louder applause and cheers and flashing lights, he looked up, seeing the love of his life again, smiling, tears sparkling on her cheeks, blowing him a kiss as she faded away.

“Goodbye my Annie,” he whispered. “Goodbye.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fan fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill angst #henry cavill sad #henry cavill obsessed #HenryCavillObsessed

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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 years

Text

Heaven, Hell and You

John Constantine x OFC (Valarie Moore)

Masterlist Chapter 1

Warnings- Violence, biblical references (sort of, I think)

Chapter 2

Humming under her breath, Valerie strolled through the little convenience store in the city. She still donned her uniform, light blue scrubs and white shoes, though thankfully, she was only half as tired as usual. Even better was the fact after her shift gone by, Valerie would have the next twenty four hours off and wouldn't have to see the hospital, and by extension, the ICU for the next day or so. It was her one day off for the week and she was determined to make the most of it. The most beginning with unwinding in a warm bath and a glass of wine.

The shopping basket was hooked in her crooked elbow as she slowly walked to the liquor aisle, slowing down even further as she passed shelves lined with different kinds of pasta on her way. Maybe she could make herself dinner too, instead of ordering takeout. For a minute, Valerie seriously considered it, but then, remembering how long it might take and how much she'd anticipated doing absolutely nothing, she decided that it could be an activity for some other night and that pizza would do just fine. Once again, she began, head down, cast towards the beat up tiled floor, not even noticing that she was walking straight into someone.

"Shit," she swore, coming into contact with a man's chest, consequently stumbling backwards, "Sorry," Valerie huffed a quiet, breathless chuckle upon noticing how strikingly handsome he was; sharp bone structure, pale skin and raven hair.

"Its my fault," he dismissed, not even bothering with returning her shy smile. Instead, he shoved one hand into the pocket of his black trench and readjusted his hold on his half filled basket, "Sorry about that," he nodded politely, proceeding to furrow his brows in what she perceived to be confusion. "Do I know you?"

Equally confused, Valerie's lips quivered with questions unspoken, and eventually, she found herself tucking a soft brunette lock behind her ear, the little diamond stud on her earlobe twinkling teasingly, “I don’t think so,” she licked her pink, bare lips, “Maybe I just have one of those faces,” Valerie giggled quietly, though, she could tell by the man’s stare that he wasn’t buying it for a second. It was slightly unnerving, the way he was looking at her, like he actually believed that they knew each other.

“Maybe,” he scoffed, apparently only agreeing cause he really couldn’t place her, “Sorry,” he cleared his throat quietly.

He seemed to shake off whatever he was feeling, moving to go around her before she could even dismiss his apology and assure him that it was all good. As Mr. Tall, dark and mysterious, went about his way, Valerie turned around, sparing him one last glance, trying to ignore the disappointment in their conversation being over. She didn’t really get out a lot, discounting work, and her flirting skills were very rusty, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t know a hot guy when she saw one, and she’d just spoken to one, barely.

When he didn’t look back, either pretending to not see her or just ignoring her completely, Valerie sighed heavily, continuing towards the limited liquor selection without another look back hoping to eventually dust off her disappointment that he hadn’t shown much interest in her.

2 Weeks Later John usually preferred to drink alone, at his loft, sometimes in front of the television, sometimes while he worked. Needless to say, John didn’t ordinarily visit bars and pubs, but alas, Angela had called earlier that day wanting help with a case, and seeing that she was one of his only friends, he didn’t really think it right to refuse her. So there he was, at some no name, low lit place in the city, nursing a glass of whiskey straightening up when he saw her come through the doors of the place. “Hey,” she smiled softly, still in her work clothes, holster peeking out from beneath her blazer, file in hand, “You got started without me,” she nodded to the glass on the table as she sat on the opposing chair.

“You took too long,” he huffed, bringing the glass to his lips. The air around them stank of cigarettes, which wasn’t exactly ideal considering that, quitting had been hard, and even a year later, the smell alone still tempted him sometimes. Reaching into his pocket, he dug around for the pack of nicotine gum that he had taken to carrying around, shoving a stick into his mouth before talking again. “That the case?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, handing over the manila folder, “Why don’t you look it over while I go get a drink?”

Wordlessly, John took it, letting it lay open on the table before him, slowly sipping his drink as his weary eyes scanned the pages, looking for anything that would prove inhumanity. There were definitely some things that looked ritualistic, and John could certainly see why Angela had grown some suspicions; the Latin scrawling and the way the bodies had been mutilated pointed to something supernatural. But John could also easily see the human factors, the little details that showed him the killer was actually human; there were slight discrepancies in the incantations printed in blood on the walls and the marks were hardly drawn with fluidity. “Your guy, whoever he is, is human,” John eventually determined, sliding the folder back towards Angela.

Slumping her shoulders, she took a swing of her beer, running a hand through her hair with a defeated sigh, “Seriously? I just thought….”

“I can see why,” he nodded, “But here,” he hit one of the pictures with the pad of his fingers, “And here,” he tapped another spot, “These translations don’t make sense. It’s definitely Satanic worship, but not by a half breed.”

“Great,” She groaned, “Now its back to the drawing board I guess…” John didn’t really hear the rest of Angela’s sentence, for when he looked up, he was greeted by a familiar face. It was the girl from his dreams again, and of course, the same one he’d met at the convenience store just about two weeks ago.

Since then, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, his troubling dreams had only grown more lucid, and once or twice, he’d even found himself unable to determine if he was actually dreaming until he’d wake up, most times with his heart ready to burst from his chest and his mind a mess. At first, he’d tried to convince himself that meeting her had been a dream too, but now, seeing her walking into the bar, flanked by about four other people, John knew that it was real. She, whoever she was, was real.

And she was absolutely stunning in person, far better than what his mind had managed to conjure up. It wasn’t hard to think that she wasn’t real, John never thought that it was possible for a human to look so……..remarkably flawless. Could humans even be made that perfect? Part of him longed to know her; know who she was, what she was like, why she’d dominated his dreams for months before they’d even crossed paths. But another, though weaker, part urged John to keep his distance, to stay away from her; those dreams had to mean something, and above everything, they meant that she was trouble.

Still, John found himself, sitting in a wooden chair that didn’t really do anything for his back, staring at the girl he’d been losing sleep over as she stood at the bar, getting drinks while her friends claimed a table. She wasn’t wearing scrubs that night, instead, she’d switched them out for a little black dress that ended above her knees, boasting her very nice legs, with capped sleeves and tiny red polka dots about the entire thing. Though his eyes stayed on her, she didn’t look his way for a second, too busy trying to wave over the buzzing bartender.

“Are you even listening to me?” Angela snapped her fingers in front of John’s face, rousing his attention. Meeting her frown, John finished off his drink, not really able to lie and say he had been, considering she was very likely to question him on it, knowing full and well that he wouldn’t have an answer. “What are you looking at?” Angela turned in her chair, trying to see what, or rather who, he was seeing.

“Doesn’t matter,” he huffed gruffly, rolling his whiskey orbs and twirling the empty glass in his hands, “I’m gonna get another drink.”

“Feel free to flirt while you’re at it,” she teased lightly, and he largely ignored her, not even turning Angela’s way as he headed towards the bar.

He’d had every intention of ignoring her, just like he had when she’d turned around to give him one final glance back at the store, but by some unfortunate coincidence, the only empty spot left at the bar just happened to be right next to where she was standing. Slipping in, John maintained his silence, not even looking at the woman as he leaned on the lip of the varnished, wooden bar top, drumming his fingers impatiently. She didn’t seem to notice him at first, though, all she had to do was turn to the side to before her eyes lit up in recognition, “It’s you,” she gasped, taking a tentative step back.

Clearing his throat quietly, John didn’t bother to force a smile, smiling wasn’t really his thing anyway, “It is,” he nodded, “Funny seeing you here,” even if he had absolutely no interest in smiling with her, that didn’t mean he was particularly opposed to seeing her smile.

But, alas, she didn’t. John couldn’t blame her though, passing jokes weren’t really his area of expertise, and she just scrunched her face, “Is it though? I mean, its downtown L.A, you probably see the same person three times a week, it’s just, you almost knocked me over, so you actually remember.”

Rolling his eyes again, John shook his head, avoiding her pretty dark gaze. She had nice eyes. No, nice might have been an understatement, she had gorgeous eyes, so dark and bottomless, almost completely black. If given the opportunity, John thought that he wouldn't mind getting lost in them. Maybe that was why he’d been avoiding them so much, because he wanted to mind, because getting lost in her eyes meant he’d have to get to know her, and getting to know her meant letting her in. And his life wasn’t one that allowed for that sort of thing. Besides, he didn’t even know her name.

“You walked into me,” he argued half heartedly, hoping the bartender would make his way to their end soon. The longer he stayed, the more they’d talked, and the more they talked, the more he’d want to know.

“If I remember correctly, I believe you said that it was your fault,” she quipped, a teasing glimmer in her dark pools, and a smirk up turning her lips.

Huffing a chuckle, John sighed in relief when the bartender drew nearer, “I was being polite, don’t make me regret it.”

“What a gentleman,” the woman taunted sarcastically, no malice in her tone, though, it was laced with subtle intrigue, and before John knew it, she was offering her petite hand, “I’m Valerie, Valerie Moore.”

Reluctantly, John took her hand, enclosing it in his larger, calloused one, “John Constantine.” As hard as he tried, it was difficult to pretend that her touch didn’t have an effect on him. Her, Valerie’s, hands were so soft, and John felt like just the slightest haste could hurt them. He could see why she was in the medical field though, he could tell by the scrubs she’d been wearing, with the hospital’s name etched on the breast pocket, her hands felt healing. It was hard to describe how, but quickly, John had imagined that anyone graced by Valerie’s touch would feel better about anything in seconds, he knew he did.

Scrunching her face, Valerie giggled as she reclaimed her hand, and by just her relaxed demeanor, so different from how flustered she’d been at the store, it was obvious that she’d probably been drinking even before getting to the bar, “Like the Roman Emperor?”

Snorting, John squinted his eyes, “What?” He fought a smile, caught off guard by the fact.

Glancing down at their feet, her pale cheeks took on a rosy hue, accentuating her thick dark lashes, “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, her giddy giggles softer, “My dad’s a history teacher and sometimes I just-”

“Hey,” a matronly woman, no doubt years older than Valerie interrupted, gently laying a ring adorned hand on her girl’s bare shoulder. Maybe she was her mother, though it didn’t quite seem like it, surely though, she was someone that cared enough to come check in when Valerie was caught in conversation with a lanky stranger, “Everything okay hun?” The short, plump women looked between them, and it was only then that John realized just how close they’d been standing.

“Huh?” Valerie cast her wide innocent eyes towards her friend, “Yeah, I’m fine Martha, I was talking John’s ear off over here,” her blush deepened. She was so, painfully innocent John thought, girls in L.A weren’t usually like that, so blushy and reserved.

Nodding slowly, Martha gave John a cautious once over, as if determining whether or not he was worth her friend’s company or not, “Okay,” her tone held a skepticism and when the bartender placed a some beers near where they were standing, Martha took a few, only leaving behind one for Valerie, “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, but everyone’s right over there. Right Val?”

“Yeah,” she nodded astutely, “I’ll be right over, thanks Martha.” When the older woman was out of earshot, Valerie turned back to him, offering a shy smile and quick blinks. After, she took a quick, tentative sip of her beer, before speaking again, “Sorry about that, Martha’s just…..protective.”

“It’s okay,” John inhaled deeply, vaguely aware of Angela casting him an intrigued stare from their table. He knew she wasn’t jealous or anything of the sort; they’d tried the whole dating thing for a short stint, after he’d started cleaning himself up and she’d had time to properly grieve for her sister, but in the end, had decided that they were much better off as friends. “I should let you get to it,” he got his drink, another finger of whiskey, “Be careful, okay?” John didn’t know why he’d let himself say it, but the urge might have nagged him otherwise. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that Valerie might be in actual danger.

“Um,” stunned, Valerie straightened her back, swallowing thickly, “Yeah okay. It was nice to meet you John,” and before he could return her words, just after her smile faltered, she was turning on the flat heel of her black ballet pump and hurrying off towards the group she’d arrived with, and unlike that night in the store, she didn’t look back.

It was late when Valerie and her friends from the hospital had finally decided to leave the bar, nearly stumbling out onto the sidewalk. “You sure you’re good to drive Val?” Damien, one of the other Nurse practitioners, probed before he could start walking in the direction of his own car.

“Yeah,” already, she was rummaging through her little purse for her keys. Of course, she wasn’t exactly sober, but Valerie didn’t live too far away from the place they’d chosen, it was just about a fifteen minute to her place. “I got this,” she laughed giddily, trying to suppress a stumble as she moved away from the group. The rest of goodbyes were exchanged with an air of skepticism, and her friends seemed reluctant to let her leave, but Valerie was a bit past noticing their worry, eventually shaking them off, slowly staggering towards her car, parked all the way at the top of the street.

Everything was fine, at least for a while until the night chill broke through her thin coat and at some point, the path in front of her started to seem bleary. Worse yet, she was pretty sure that there was someone following her, keeping close the shadows, several feet behind her, their identity shrouded. Unnerved, she sped up, clutching her keys tightly, the metal cool in her palms. Heavy, shallow breaths were hard to contain, and that was when it happened, sending the iciest chill up her spine.

“Precious little Valerie shouldn’t be walking alone. Bad things happen when pretty girls walk alone….” The ragged, hoarse voice seemed closer than it ever had, and then, out from the shadows, merely two or three feet in front of her, was a boy, no older than sixteen, his skin hard and yellow, and his eyes unfocused and glassy.

Half a panicked scream left her quivering lips and Valerie could feel her heart trying to break through her ribs and leap right out of her chest. In an instant the boy…..or whatever was left of his apparently decaying form lunged for her, barely phased when she swung her bag offensively, hitting him square in the jaw. “What the fuck?” She breathed, too frightened to scream as she stumbled, falling back into the damp sidewalk.

Wildly, she kicked him in the face, not caring if her attempts of fighting back were barely buying her time. It couldn’t end that way; she was too young. “Let go of me!” She violently wiggled her leg out of his grasp, scrambling up and trying to run towards her car, her left shoe slipping off in the process, nearly causing her to slip on the slippery concrete.

For a split second, Valerie thought that she might have escaped her nasty faith, but nothing was as unforgiving as whatever was after her. Enraged, it’s high pitch, demented shrill rang out ear piercingly, “No!” It reached for the back of her dress, “Valerie comes with me!”

It was over. It had to be, the teenager from hell had caught her. He was stronger than her, or so she thought, and he was about to drag her to whatever hole he’d crawled out from. But then unthinkable happened, all in a blur; a familiar form leaping out of alongside the darkened store fronts, formerly protected by the darkness, was now fighting her battle for her. And much more efficiently too. In what seemed to be an instant, though might have just been minutes sped up by her adrenaline fueled mind, John ‘not the Roman emperor’ Constantine, had the kid pinned down, splashing what Valerie could only presume to be water, or maybe clear liquor on his face. Really, she didn’t know, but she could tell that it had been enough to weaken him enough, so John could subsequently start reading from a little black book. “Close your eyes,” he growled, taking a minute from his words.

“What?” Confused and scared, it was safe to say that Valerie was having a hard time processing even the simplest instructions.

Taking another quick, very reluctant break, John, more annoyed than ever, simply spat, “Your eyes, close them!”

Without any other reasonable explanation besides not wanting him, or anyone else to viciously attack her, Valerie shut her eyes tight. Her other senses kicked in, working in overdrive, trying to piece together what was going on, though all she could comprehend were John’s continued prayers and then, after a few minutes, a body tackling her, once again knocking to the floor again. It wasn’t the boy though, no, he had smelt disgustingly of sulfur, but this person gave off another aroma; soap, cologne and whiskey. Cracking one eye open, Valerie sighed in relief once her suspicions were confirmed; it was John.

His face hovered less than an inch over hers, lips so close that it would take barely any effort to lean up and kiss him. Their breaths were shared and Valerie could feel John’s hard chest pressing on her breasts, his weight heavy on hers, though, she didn’t think she wanted him to move anyway. His presence and their proximity was so consuming that she hadn’t even noticed the shattered glass surrounding them, pieces caught in her hair, though his larger body shielding her from the worst of it. “You-”

She didn’t get to finish, for the minute that John realized that he was lingering, holding her down for longer than he needed to, he struggled into a standing position, offering his hand to help Valerie do the same. “You need to come with me,” was all he chucked out when they’d just started grasping their bearings, his fingers enclosed around her upper arm, trying to pull her along.

Though, now sobered by her near heart stopping experience, Valerie fought his grip, almost yelping when she saw the boy laying on the ground, looking far different from how he’d been when he attacked her, and the glass from one of the store fronts completely shattered, “What the fuck is going on?” Her hair was wet from some puddle or the other, her clothes were soaked through too and one side of her shoes was still missing. And that was just the physical damage. What was going on in her head was something entirely different.

“I can explain this when you’re safe,” he urged her along, not even phased by her fighting.

Trying to yank her arm away, Valerie refused to give in so easily, “And I’m safe with you? I barely know you. And we can’t just leave that kid on the sidewalk.”

“He wasn’t the one that almost died back there,” his low, gruff voice dripped with annoyance, and Valerie could tell that he really just wanted her to shut up. But how could she with all that was going on?

“What was that back there? What the hell was wrong with that kid? Are you a priest, why were you saying Saint Michael’s prayer?” The questions just tumbled out of her mouth, right as she’d finally wrenched herself from John’s grip.

Finally, realizing that she was too stubborn for them to make it to his car, John slumped his shoulders, begrudgingly giving in. Why’d he have to want to save her so bad? “You speak Latin?”

“What?” She scoffed, folding her arms, “I don’t, and if you’re not going to answer my questions, then I’m going back to my car.”

Turning on her heel, Valerie had just started walking again, when John halted her with a series of brief explanations, “That was a possession, and then an exorcism. That kid was possessed and no, I’m not a priest.” When she turned back to him, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, “Now lets try this again, do you speak Latin? And don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t,” now traded places, with Valerie being the annoyed one, she spoke through gritted teeth, “Why’s that so important to you anyway?”

“You ask so many questions,” he rolled his eyes, “And its important because that’s the only way you would have understood a word of that prayer. Unless you’re a really devout Catholic.”

Taken aback, Valerie’s eyes widened, jaw hanging slack, “I’m not,” she gasped, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d set foot in a church or even prayed. “You…..I….you were…...that was Latin?”

“Well it wasn’t exactly English,” John joked, dry and humorless, only frowning when he noticed her trouble, “But you didn’t know that.” All she managed was a slight shake of her head. “Did you understand what he was saying?”

It couldn’t be. “Yeah,” nothing followed the breathy peep, as Valerie was too busy getting lost in a swirling pool of despair. A demon possessed kid knew her name, tried to kidnap her, and now she could speak dead languages? Maybe she should have just stayed home that night. “What’s…..I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” John grabbed her shoulders, probably thinking it would ground her, Valerie knew the little trick well, it was something she did when patients started freaking out, something about having someone’s comforting touch was centering. “But I might be able to help you, I just need you to trust me, okay?”

Trust him? A man she didn’t know? A man who could probably want her dead, just like some apparent demon.

But his eyes were so sincere, and beneath his cynicism and sarcastic quips, it actually seemed like he cared.

It wasn’t something her father would approve of, and Martha would definitely give her a lecture or two on her naivety, but there she was, thinking that maybe John was exactly who he said he was; someone that could help.

“Okay,” Valerie relented, finally letting John urge her to his car, going wherever he’d take her just so she could have some answers.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea @luxx-aeterna

#keanu reeves #Constantine #john constantine #john constantine x reader #constantine x OFC #keanu reeves x reader #john constantine x you #constantine x reader #constantine x you #constantine 2005 #constantine fanfic #ff #fanfic #keau reeves fanfic #au #heaven hell and you

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deathduty · 3 years

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Murder on Aisle 5 || Deirdre & Nicole

TIMING: Sometime during Halloween. Yes, Halloween. LOCATION: Grocery Store PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @deathduty CONTENT: Death, gore, bongos SUMMARY: You’ve gotta be kiwiing me; Deirdre and Nicole meet at a grocery store and this shit is bananas (b-a-n-a-n-a-s). They make a great pear. Love each other berry much in this one in a melon meeting of fig-gin amazing circumstances. Nicole is the apple of Deirdre’s eye, and they turnip the beet. Peach out, bitches!

Grocery shopping was one of the things Nicole was capable of doing with efficiency. In and out in less than fifteen minutes. She didn’t like to spend more minutes than necessary debating which items to buy. That way, she avoided the crowd as much as possible. She wasn’t expecting to be greeted by so much noise that day. Busy evening, it appeared. She walked faster, shoulders rising to her ears, in a helpless attempt to cancel the sounds. She’d be done soon, didn’t even need a cart. She tried to ignore the sensation in her stomach warning her something was wrong. That was just her brain being paranoid, surely. But then, as she headed for the beer section, all hell broke loose. Why would people be shouting at others to run? No. Not her problem. She had reached her quota of fucked up encounters for the month, she was not about to go and figure out what was going on. Taking a few steps back she turned around with the intention of going to a different store, stumbling into a body. “Shit!” she raised her hands with the intention to check on the woman she had bumped into, before another piercing scream filled the air. “Sorry… don’t know what’s got people so—” she began to explain, before a small crowd ran toward them, seemingly escaping from… “Ah, fuck off!” It had to be a joke. The causes of the commotion had turned around the corner, standing at the end of the aisle. Dumbfounded, she froze on the spot, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Judging by the very real blood dripping from the leg of someone who had limped past them, she had just walked into a murder party.

Deirdre liked grocery shopping about as much as she enjoyed actually cooking; it was pointless and all she really wanted was pie anyways. Now that Morgan didn’t eat, the groceries were just for her, and deciding what kind of tomato sauce she wanted was not how she liked to spend her evenings. And she didn’t know what kind of tomato sauce she liked anyways; wasn’t there only one kind? Tomato? When people started to scream and shout beyond her, Deirdre ignored them and looked at the sauces. When she felt a scream claw up her chest, she snapped on her choker, swallowed the scream, and continued to eye the sauce. Should she just buy canned tomatoes and make sauce that way? It was better than the pre-bottled sauce, right? And It was just tomatoes in there anyway, what did it matter? But then what was the point of bottled tomato sauce if it was just tomatoes? These questions plagued Deirdre, and then someone bumped into her and she spun around, as if she’d just been interrupted from having an epiphany, which for all this woman knew, she might have been.

“Oi, watch it, you hu—“ She couldn’t help but notice that this woman wasn’t looking at her, which was as insulting as it was curious. Deirdre turned her head, following her gaze. “Is that a banana holding a knife?” Deirdre blinked. Beside it, was a large bundle of grapes, cheap and made of cloth, holding two knives. And beside that, an apple covered in blood. Coincidentally, the apple didn’t have a knife. Though that was probably because it had sharp teeth along its center, with painted eyes above. These fruits were not like the juicy, glossy kind that littered her cart. They were big, made of fabric, with arms and legs but no hands and feet. They clutched the knives clumsily, as if their sleeves were made of wire that wrapped around the handle. Each had a black, cloth hole, and nothing staring out of it. “Looks like someone’s having a fun costume party, or they were going to,” she smiled at the woman, trying to offer another grin at the man who limped away. The apple leaned down, lapping at his trail of blood with a felt tongue. Deirdre plucked her own apple out of her cart, and threw it at the corresponding fruit costume. The carnivorous apple crumpled under the weight, though the other two fruits began their slow march towards them. “Now is the point,” she nudged the woman, “that I think we run.”

It was the fruit flying close to her ear and hitting the apple costume that pulled Nicole out of her state of shock. Now they were real targets. “You think!?” she dropped the items she had in her hands, and hurried the woman down the aisle, ready to run for her life. She felt no obligation to stick with her, but as long as they were in the same area she assumed there was an unspoken deal between them. Such as, don’t feed the other to the flesh-eating apple, and the like. She hoped the stranger wasn’t considering her as bait, at least. Thankfully the fruits were slow, they would be able to lose them soon enough. It wasn’t so bad. Reaching the end of the aisle, she was ready to turn around the corner, when she almost crashed against another costume. As if the situation didn’t feel surreal enough, a giant, six foot operation game stood before them. Except there was no board, just the big cartoon body seemingly made out of foam, with holes where the plastic organs were meant to be. Tweezers connected by a wire to his shoulder. She saw the tweezers rise in the air, before surging forward and stabbing another running customer.

She grimaced, eyes closing when she heard the tweezers pull something out of his body, splattering sounds against the floor. “Fuck that! Back up— back up!” Nicole shouted, though she knew the other woman didn't need to be told. They were trapped between two murderous options, and they had to pick one escape route. Looking at shelves on her side, she held onto a mop stick, ready to use it as defense. Had she had more time, she would’ve wondered why the cleaning items were in the aisle in front of the tomato sauce. They had more important things to deal with than terrible store organization, however. She was ready to swing. All they had to do was dodge one of the costumes looking for blood, and they’d be out of the way. Easy. Unless they were to encounter killer vegetables on the other side. “Killer fruits...” she panted, looking from one end of the other, weighing her options, “or real life... operation game?” chest heaving, she turned to the woman for opinions.

Deirdre liked running. It was therapeutic, in a way. Running for the chance to not lose a limb was a little less therapeutic. “So you come here often or…?” But regardless, she grinned as though she was having fun. In a way, she was. Getting stabbed didn’t sound great to her, but watching someone else get stabbed was always a fun time. And, really, though she was trying to be more considerate of the humans...it wasn’t like she was the one stabbing them. Not this time, at least. “Oh, I don’t know,” she smiled, head turned to the side, “I think that one’s kind of cute.” She wasn familiar with what it was, exactly, but watching it pluck the heart out of some unsuspecting person and try to stuff it into its own cartoon-heart-hole, stirred some fondness. And then it started moving towards them. Deirdre glanced back, noticing the fruit were still wobbling their way, even the apple had stood up now. As it always was with these cases, she could just scream, but where would be the fun in that? “Well considering you have a stick, and I am, for some reason, carrying tomato sauce that I don’t even remember picking up, I think we could make a very strange pasta right now.” She looked back at the woman, waiting for her to laugh. “Okay, fine,” she huffed, snapping her attention between the two groups. Fruits and...what did the woman call it? Operation? “The fruits are fabric, and clearly they can just be pushed over. So that sounds boring. But that--” She turned to the board. “Looks like fun. So I’m going that way.” She threw her tomato sauce bottle at it, watching it bounce off harmlessly. “See! Fun!” And she could’ve used any of the knives she had hidden on her person, but that felt like cheating, in some way. And so she grabbed a plunger and a toilet brush (she liked the thematic bond between the two makeshift weapons). And with a grin, wide and impish, she charged and slid under and around the ‘Operation’--fearless and foolish in equal measure. “Well? Are you coming?”

The woman was not taking the situation seriously at all, Nicole soon realized. The thought that it could all be a prank crossed her mind. Surely, any normal person would be freaking out in her shoes. Or maybe, that was just the way she dealt with stress. Who was she to judge? “Cute” she repeated in a deadpan. “Don’t think buddy over there thinks getting their organs ripped away is very cute” she looked down at him. She should offer help, right? “That’s not even the good kind...what are you doing?” she spoke with urgency, nodding at the bottle in her hand. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t find the humor in the woman’s joke. “Don’t you think we have better chances of— you know...living with boring?” she gestured vigorously at them. They had barely moved a couple feet since she had last looked. God they were fucking slow, why was she even scared? The stabbing motions from the banana still looked threatening, though. Right, the knives. Eyes widened, she watched the woman throw her tomato sauce at the costume. Was she mad? She was mad. Did she have a death wish? Most definitely. “Are you out of your mind?”.

Nicole refrained from cheering on the woman when she ran at the operation game. She didn’t want her to think that her actions had been in any way responsible. That move had been very impressive though, she had to give her that. Was she coming? She looked behind, at the stupid wobbling fruits. It would be so easy. To swing the stick at the apple and run for her life. But then — her stomach sank at the realization— the exit would be much easier to reach if she took the game route. Just then, she remembered she was faster than most. Right. Except, she couldn’t do it in front of the stranger. She was useless. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. She decided to run straight at him, squeezing herself through the space between the costume and the shelve in the last second. Not as spectacular, but she got the job done. On the other side, she almost crashed against the woman again and, without waiting, she tugged at her wrist, pulling her to run. “C’mon”. The game followed behind, its giant tweezer stabbing aimlessly in the air.

“Actually, as a life actuary, I can tell you that boring has no factor on lifespan.” Deirdre grinned. That wasn’t true, risky behaviours were understandably a factor against life expectancy. But she wasn’t so attached to upholding truth, or the respectability of her job. She’d rather this woman do something fun, and wild and….not squeeze herself around the Operation. “Fates, you’re so boring…” she grumbled, mad at the display. She continued to complain about it as they ran. “I mean, what was that? You couldn’t have done a roll? Or a cool shimmy? You’re clearly fit—“ she gestured to the woman’s body. “—I know you can do a roll, at least.” But there was one way to manufacture interesting displays. She grew quiet, plan brewing in her head. The exit was close, yes, but Deirdre had other ideas for them. A smirk flickered across her face before she slunk back and tripped. “Ahhh!” She yelled, realizing that her acting skills were pretty abysmal. “My ankle is—I think I sprained it! Curse me for running in heels!” Her ankle was completely fine, and she’d ran in worse footwear plenty of times. But the game hobbled closer and closer to her, tweezers snapping in the air like claws. Behind it, the gang of murderous fruit approached. “Help me, strange, boring woman!” She looked back at her newest ‘friend’, pleading at her with her eyes. If she wasn’t going to be fun, Deirdre would make her.

“The fuck is a—” had they not been pressed by the situation, Nicole would’ve finished her question. No, really. What was a life actuary? A made up profession, surely, if she was to go by the woman’s inability to take things seriously. It all had to be a prank. And she was obviously part of it, right? She did turn a round for a moment, in a desperate search for cameras. Otherwise, who could be so terrifyingly calm in the face of danger? Her steps almost halted when she heard the woman’s words. Boring? She wasn’t technically lying, but the statement didn’t hold any truth at the moment. Was there a more entertaining way of escaping? She scoffed. “Right, sorry I wasn’t showy enough for you. Maybe if we actually... make it out of this alive— I’ll think about body rolls and… and shimmies. No me jodas”. She tripped over a pile of cereal boxes on the floor, a second later she heard the woman yelling behind her. Nicole’s head whipped in her direction, the initial concern vanishing as soon as she saw no signs of pain in her face. Confused, she stood there, wide eyes demanding an explanation. “What the fuck are you doing? Get up!” she hissed, kneeling next to her.

Behind them, the tweezers snapped again as the Operation man held onto another organ, stuffing it in a different empty hole. Nicole swallowed. She could pick the woman up. Throw her over her shoulder. Easy. Out of spite, because she had been nothing but an inconvenience. But also, because she didn’t want her to have no organs, if she was being honest. Her eyes sized her up. How heavy could she be, really? Would that be too humiliating? Being eaten by a useless wobbling apple sounded more humiliating. Why did she care about any of that when the stranger clearly didn’t? She could leave her behind. Yes, she wanted to. The possibility was faint, but intrusive. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider it. “Swear to god if you don’t—” grabbing the toilet brush that fell from her hands, she threw it at the naked foam suit before turning to the woman again. “What. Do you want. From me” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“I. Want. Something. Fun.” Deirdre’s Cheshire-like grin only grew as time ticked between them. She leaned closer, putting her face against the woman’s boundaries of personal space. Her game of pretending to be injured was too transparent, but it didn’t matter so much. She’d have her entertainment one way or another. “You’re not going to die here, love. So why don’t you have a little fun?” And if she was, well, then at least Deirdre would get a real show. “Don’t you want to surprise me?” She blinked, batting her eyelashes. She wasn’t sure how effective her pouting would be, but she tried it anyway. “And anyway, I’m too hurt to move…” Her voice dripped saccharine, and she twisted her body like the damsel she wasn’t, revealing an ankle that didn’t have a scratch on it. Beyond them, the Operation board snapped its tweezers again. At some point, one of them would have to win: Deirdre’s desire for mischief, the woman’s boringness, or the strange costume’s hunger for organs. “Maybe you can fight the costume?” She offered the idea, “or burn the store down or ooh--sacrifice someone to it!” She lit up with imagination. “Come on,” she implored the woman, “you’d help a beautiful injured woman, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind” Nicole inched closer, too frustrated to feel uncomfortable over personal boundaries. She shook her head, wanting to say no but all she managed was incoherent mumbling. She was speechless. No, she didn't want to surprise her, she wanted to go home. She blinked away the tears of frustration in her eyes. It was clear that she wouldn’t win an argument against the woman. Her eyes flicked to the ankle, anger bubbling up. She was lying. For some reason she was lying about her sprained ankle to delay their escape, why? She wasn’t sure what compelled her to do it. She had stopped thinking at all, it seemed. But something the woman had said lingered on her mind. She could fight it. Stupid? Sure, but at this point she was out of ideas. She wasn’t afraid of dying, but she would’ve hated to do it while pissed at a complete stranger. Furious eyes glanced at the woman one last time before she stood, facing the costume. She swung the stick she still held in her hand, breaking in half as it hit the operation man.

Nicole’s eyes widened. How was that possible? Foam wasn’t tougher than plastic. What kind of deficient products was the store selling? The costume stumbled slightly to the side, not enough to topple over. She stared at the broken piece in her hand, then down to the woman who had been watching it all unfold. Yeah, that was it. She discarded her stick, rushing to the woman’s side again. “You wanted fun, right?” She nodded, waiting for any twitch of her face as confirmation, before lifting the woman off the ground without any warning. And no— carrying her in her arms felt too personal, she decided. She did not want to see her annoying face any longer. Her arm hooked behind the woman’s knees, the other securing her back and with all the strength she could muster, she put her on her shoulder. A small, rational thought in the back of her mind, worried about her display not being human enough. Fuck it. She could say she exercised. “Shit—” she grunted at the effort. Her initial idea had been fun, especially to get back at the woman. But she really hadn’t thought it through. For one, she would be dealing with the woman’s resistance, and for the other, she had overestimated how wide her frame was to carry another adult. Whatever, she’d deal with the neck pain later, the exit was her goal. “This view’s more entertaining for you, no?”

Deirdre couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face at the promise of a fight. She saw the woman get ready and swing and...break her weapon. She blinked. And then burst into laughter. “Did you see that? You should have seen the look on your face!” She was distracted now, playing the scene back again in her head. The seriousness in which the woman attacked, the sound of the plastic snapping, the awkward tumbling of the costume. She loved it. She loved it so much, in fact, that she hadn’t been prepared for the woman to lift her up and, as if she were a sheet, throw her over her shoulder. “Hey!” She wiggled, surprised at the woman’s grip. Some humans were stronger than they looked, she guessed. “Hey! You can’t carry me! I have standards!” Which typically amounted to only letting her girlfriend carry her whilst in the privacy of their own house. Being carried always made her feel like a child...and she hated feeling like a child. Then again— “No, you’re right, the view is good.” She said, looking down. “I could play your ass cheeks like bongos right now, which I have half a mind to because you’re carrying me!” She wriggled again, careful not to be too good at it, lest the woman throw her aside and she ended up with a real twisted ankle. The Halloween season was important to her, and she couldn’t let it be spoiled with an injury. “You suck,” she said, giving up on her resistance. “And I don’t even want to play your ass like a drum anymore. That’s how much you suck.” She crossed her arms petulantly, waiting for the night to be over.

Navigating through the chaotic store aisles with a woman on her shoulder proved to be one of the hardest things Nicole had ever done. People were still running amok to escape from the murderous costumes. Between the screaming, the shoving, and the bumping into each other, she didn’t miss the fact that people were also actively running in the direction of danger. It seemed the woman over her shoulder wasn’t alone in her insanity. She scoffed at the mention of standards, making sure to slowly turn around the corner so the woman didn’t hit her head while she kept wriggling for freedom. Oh, so she wasn’t worthy of carrying someone like her? What standards could she possibly have? All she had was a worrying lack of common sense and shitty taste in tomato sauce, she had no room to talk about anything. She gritted her teeth, partly from the fatigue, but mostly to stop herself from blurting out something hurtful. The woman was probably incapable of feeling hurt, anyway. The costumes began to distance, as one turn of her head confirmed. They really were pathetically slow. The exit was close. She’d never have to see the woman in her life again. “Wha—” her brain stopped working for a moment when the woman spoke, her grip slipped. Apparently she wasn't too busy to blush from the embarrassment.

In hindsight, Nicole would have preferred to be stabbed by the banana costume than to hear the woman compare body parts to musical instruments. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she could drop her, go back, and plead the fruits to off her. Whatever worked to unhear those words. She didn't know what to say. “What the fuck” she was all she whispered, to preserve her energy. Crossing the store’s exit came with a wave of relief that made her almost drop the woman right there. Her knees wobbled, but continued until she was far enough from the crowded exit. “Yeah—” she panted, failing to lean against the wall before unceremoniously letting go of her. “Well, you suck too, ‘least we agree on that” she snarled, feeling unusually defiant. So childish. She winced, ribs burning and legs shaky as she leaned against the wall. She shot the woman a cautious look, almost expecting her to run back for more fun. “Please don’t go inside again” she was tempted to grab her wrist to stop her, but she’d had enough of touching strangers for the rest of her life.

Deirdre frowned, arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t command me, human.” Which was her affectionate way of saying that she just might go inside, there was more death sure to happen, and she wanted to watch. Not that this lady would understand, Deirdre wouldn’t be surprised if she had a night of watching the news and then sleeping planned. She struck Deirdre as just that boring. Boring enough to, with great probability, stop her from going back inside. Deirdre grumbled. “Fine!” She threw her hands up, crossing them again as she brandished a pout at the stranger. “Fine. I won’t go back inside.” From the store, bloody humans stumbled out, screaming and shivering. Beyond them, the shrill sound of sirens cut the night air. This situation would be dealt with, boringly, by boring people. Deirdre turned to the stranger, whom she ought to thank but never would. “I guess….I’ll see you around, bongo-ass?” Deirdre waved, the scene turned from the dark of night to the flashing blue-red of police. She didn’t want to be around. She patted the woman’s shoulder—as close of a thank you as she’d ever get—and turned and ran.

The night yielded less fun than she wanted, and the costumes were gaudy if anything, but perhaps, above all, Deirdre had gotten something far more special: someone to annoy.

#wickedswriting #c: nicole #murder on aisle 5 #shouts out to mary for being the best ever #and to nicole for being the most fun. don't listen to deirdre :/

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

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Clear The Area - Chapter Fifteen (Part Three)

Previous chapter here

Warnings: language, some suggestive sexuality, and some good old angst

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue Thanks for the support!

Notes: Hope you enjoy this, and apologies for my poor spelling and grammar.

Chapter Fifteen: Part Three

She woke up earlier than him.

It was half six when she stepped into the shower having given up on her sleep. It had been a hot, rather uncomfortable night and the aircon barely broke a chill through the suite.

It was taking some getting used to, this sharing a bed, especially with someone who insisted on snuggling into the back of her. Sarah wasn’t much of a cuddler and Chris knew this. She would much rather wrap herself up in blankets and drift off to sleep but it didn’t stop him from slowly inching his body towards her throughout the night. It was a case of putting up with it for fear of falling off the end and breaking something.

She barely moved under the shower head except to allow the water to rain down on her skin and hopefully liven her up for the day. She was anxious, more anxious than she anticipated she would be. She was always able to keep her cool under test conditions, probably why she became a nurse in the first place, but something about this particular exam was hitting differently and she wasn’t sure why.

She eventually got dressed and went back into the bedroom to sort her hair. He would be annoyed she’d woken up before him now that he had decided he was single-handedly responsible for all her breakfast needs that week. Admittedly, though, it felt nice being looked after in this way. Really, really nice. It was like having her own PA.

He was sleeping flat on his stomach, one leg poking out from underneath the covers. He had wrapped his arms around a pillow and his low snore was rumbling through the warm air in the room. It was confusing how anyone could find that position comfortable and not wake up having lost all feeling down one side of his body. His back muscles were relaxed but still resembled something Michelangelo could only dream of painting. He was, in all honesty, a ridiculous specimen of a man. A man that told her he wanted her to get some good rest and sleep as much as possible. Who had closed her textbooks, ran her a hot bath, and climbed in behind her to massage her shoulders. Potential lingered in the air last night but he was going to stick to his word and not get in the way of her work. He told her he was glad he was with her and happily settled for stroking her hair as she fell asleep. Her head was lying on his chest but when she felt his heartbeat settle and his arms loosen around her, she softly rolled away from him like he knew she inevitably would.

At various times, they found themselves getting into a very comfortable and, dare she say it, enjoyable routine. It was surprisingly easy to do so when the door was locked. He had used the hotel gym to give her some peace for a few hours each morning. He had kept her fed and hydrated when she would have most likely forgotten both having had her nose stuck in her books for hours on end. He had watched daytime television in the bedroom and failed to hide his tears when a charity had rebuilt an elderly man’s home following a flood. When she asked, he had helped to test her using the notes she’d prepped for the exam. He read scripts as soon as they had landed in his inbox. His team was politely shocked at his new-found efficiency.

When they weren’t fooling around on the sofa in the evenings, she had taken a break to read over some lines with him. While at first he was very kind and promising with his notes, especially with some kissing scenes he’d invented, they both knew she was definitely not suited for a life in front of the camera.

“Don’t overthink it too much. Just go with your instincts.” he encouraged her to continue reading with him for fun but she had given up when he had fallen into a fit of laughter as she attempted to arrest him.

“Yeh, no, my brain doesn’t really work like that.” she responded, holding up her hands in defeat.

“Please? I’m sorry, I promise I won’t laugh.” he pleaded. “Again.”

It was easy to get used to having him around but she finally realised how and why women fell for him hard. There was something very childlike about him, something innocent even if he was anything but when they dimmed the lights. He was gentler and quieter than she knew him to be, less sure of himself at times than perhaps the impression he wilfully gave away to the public. She heard the criticisms he levelled at himself when reading his lines out loud and saw first-hand the pressure he placed upon himself where his career was concerned. But for every committed step them took forwards as they learned more about each other, even after all these years, something started to pull her back.

“Hey...”

She was broken from her contemplation by his groggy drawl. He turned on to his side and laid his hand in the space she had previously occupied. One eye had yet to open and his hair was pointing in all different directions.

“It’s far too early to get up, y’know.” He stretched his arm out to connect with her leg curled up underneath her as she looked back at him. “Oh shit. I forgot. Is it really this morning already?”

She stayed looking at him from where she was sat before nodding. “I should only be a couple of hours but I’ll swing by that bakery down the street and pick us up something nice for lunch. They do those almond croissants you like.”

He sighed, taking her in and smiling. She’d tied her hair in a side plait and was wearing a slightly fluffy striped sweater that he wanted to run his hands over. “Yeh, that sounds really nice, Bernette.” He didn’t miss a beat. “I could meet you afterwards? We could go for a walk through the Park?”

“I might just want to come home and cry.”

“Hey now, you’re gonna ace this test. I can feel it.” He was fully awake now, purposeful in his movements towards her to help put her mind at ease. “if I was your patient, I would be ecstatic to have you working on me.”

She chuckled to herself. He was always so confident expressing himself. She was jealous of that. She wished she could be as confident and as sure of herself, like the rest of the family were. It was one thing in her that stood out in stark contrast.

“What have you eaten? I didn’t hear any room service.” He probed, a serious look now glazing over his features.

“Oh it’s fine, I’ll grab something on the way. I’m not all that hungry to tell you the truth.” She tried to brush off his protests but it only served to make him more concerned.

“You’ve got time yet, let me order something up.” He made for the phone but was stopped as she got up from the bed. “You need to eat something, Sarah. You’re gonna be sat there for hours. I don’t want you passing out.”

“Alright, thank you, Dad!” she laughed. “It’s fine! This is not my first exam. I know what it’s like and I promise you I will get something from Starbucks on somewhere else on the way.”

“You’re going now?!”

“Yeh, I could do with a walk to clear my hear. I always found that helpful when back in school.” She was talking from the lounge as she tried to locate her boots. Something else Shanna had chucked into her suitcase without her realising, but she wasn’t as annoyed with this one.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll come with you.”

She re-entered the bedroom to find him rifling through his bag for new clothes. “Why?”

“Because I wanna support my girlfriend! Jesus!” He was sharper than he had intended but carried on with his search for fresh boxers, throwing out some old stuff in haste like he was searching for long lost buried treasure.

She just looked at him. He’d never used that word before. They’d never talked about it. He acknowledged her silence and stopped to look at her, jeans in hand. He saw her awkward stance and instantly felt like shit. This was not the morning to lay this on her. He knew the very next words out of his mouth would determine how they moved forward.

He paused before chucking his jeans on the chair in front of him. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she responded but she wasn’t sure it was.

“If you wanna head off, that’s totally cool. I’ll be here if you need me. Just text me when you’re done, yeh?”

She nodded at him, offered him as reassuring a smile as she could manage before leaving the bedroom to gather her things. He didn’t follow her; she heard the bed creak slightly so he must have chosen to stay put instead. It was probably for the best. She didn’t want the image of his pitiful face to be her last memory before sitting in silence for 90 minutes, trying in vain to concentrate as hard as she could.

The test went about as well as expected, if what she had expected was to doubt her basic entry-level abilities. She was one of seven that morning, six if you discount the gentleman that walked out fifteen minutes after he sat down.

It was multiple choice. It really shouldn’t have been that difficult. The answer was hiding in plain sight after all. She was reminded of something her tutor once told her and her graduating class before they left the relative comfort of their college:

“There will always be someone who knows more than we do.”

He didn’t mean it in a disparaging way - at least she didn’t think he did - but more that you go from being one of the best in your class to being surrounded by people who are equally as bright and as intuitive as you may be, and who will all have had different experiences. He wanted to say that sometimes, there is no one right answer. It was more than passing a test and qualifying; you have to adapt. You had to soak everything up like a sponge or else you risk becoming redundant in the very profession you devoted your life to. No wonder Medicine had the highest quit ratio. Boy, had she been naive.

Shanna 11.41am: OK OK I kno ur probably still super busy bt i’m dying to kno how it went?? Txt me when you get a sec babe xxxxx

She smiled down at her phone before typing a series of vomiting emojis. That should just about sum up her feelings. Scanning her phone again, she found a couple of messages from Audrey but none from Chris. She was surprised but would be lying if she didn’t admit to being relieved.

She meandered down the street towards the subway, thoughts swaying between reliving stupid mistakes she had convinced herself she had made, to what kind of mood Chris might be in. She texted him that she was finished and heading back like she promised she would, then the train was bang on time so she didn’t even have the luxury of blaming delays. Her legs weighed like lead as she approached the suite doorway, her lack of sleep the night before finally catching up with her.

Everything was deathly quiet when she entered. She paused after shutting the door behind her but still couldn’t hear anything. Certainly no trace of another person being present. Confused, she walked into the bedroom and found a note left on the comforter. He’d gone to the gym and told her to message him when she got back. This might give her the excuse she’d been seeking to grab five minutes alone.

She flopped on to the bed and turned to the side to catch the pile of notes and textbooks he’d shoved there the night before. So much promise contained in those few pages. So much knowledge that it felt like she had no business attempting to absorb it for her own personal gain. Many highly accomplished physicians and scientists had bound their entire lives to the duty of finding answers to the human body’s potential for extreme trauma. What exactly would a young, angst-ridden girl from Michigan bring to the table?

The door went a few moments later and she realised she had closed her eyes. She was lying on her back with her legs hanging off the end of the bed as he walked in, slightly sweaty but nevertheless a sight for sore eyes. Seeing him in this state was the nicest thing that had happened to her all day and she regretted their tense conversation earlier.

“Dude...” he muttered as he dropped his towel on the chair by the door and joined her on the bed. He flopped down alongside her with a heavy sigh.

“Good workout?” she finally offered.

“Yeh, all good. Nothing too strenuous.” He replied like it was the most normal conversation in the world. “Good exam?”

“Oh yeh, same.” she replied just as casual as him before they both fell into a fit of giggles.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked after they had both calmed down.

She took a deep breath. “Not really.”

“You want me to guess?”

“Chris...”

“What?” his voice was a little whinier than he would have liked at this particular time. “I know you. You’re writing yourself off before you know what’s happened.”

“Who said I was writing myself off?” She pushed back. “It’s normal to feel like this. It’s just...nerves or whatever.”

“Yeh, well, there’s no point worrying about something twice.”

She didn’t want to talk about this right now. She was silently hoping he would make a move on her after refraining from touching her the night before when she was definitely in the mood for him. “It’s just...it’s hard to explain.” She got up from the bed and shuffled into the bathroom to remove what little make-up she had put on that morning.

“Try and tell me about it. What was it like? How many questions were there? How many people turned up?”

She threw the face wipe in the bin and ran the tap water to wash her hands. She knew he wasn’t going to budge from his trajectory. She knew he wasn’t going to stop picking at her to talk about it. She leaned her hands on the marble top and took a deep breath.

“It was harder than I imagined it would be. I think I just froze. Like, basic stuff I do day in and day out just wasn’t coming to me.”

“If doing auditions has taught me anything it’s that you always think you’ve done worse than you have. It’s just natural. The brain works in strange ways sometimes. It can trick you.” he reasoned, finally moving into the bathroom but not daring to reach out to her. He settled for backing up against the wall inside the doorway.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be a good result, thought.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” He spoke softly, comfortingly. “You’re so smart and so capable of doing this. You just gotta believe in yourself.”

She nodded in acceptable of what he was trying to say and looked at him face-on. His brow was defined with those worry lines again which made feel a little crap, but he still had a boyish shine about him, no doubt because of the glow from his workout. She would have been a heaving red mess.

“What are you thnking about?” he asked.

She continued studying him, trying to arrange her thoughts. “Is this all there is to life?” she asked after another moment had passed. “You find something you like to do and that’s it, you just coast for 40 years?”

He contemplated her question for a second. “Yeh. Pretty much.”

Sarah huffed out a laugh, not fully appreciating his brutal honest at this moment in time.

“But not everyone is lucky to even get that far.” He moved into the bathroom to stand closer to her. “People can go years with no real clue of what it is they wanna do. You’re one of the lucky ones, Sarah. You figured it out when you were young, you did what you had to do and now you’re doing it for real. That’s less common that you think.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate what he was trying to do, it’s just that often she had multiple anxieties convincing her of the opposite. It’s easy for him to say this, he’s already at the top of his game. He doesn’t have to other with the real world if he doesn’t want to. Most people don’t have the financial luxury of stopping to retrain as something different and Chris had always alluded to quitting acting while he was still young in order to take up something else, like carpentry or simply staying behind the scenes. He always figured he would stop when he had his first child but the reality for everyone else couldn’t afford them that same privilege.

“You are where you’re supposed to be.” He continued. “I don’t believe there is anyone better qualified at what it is they do than you. I believe that and I believe that you know that, too, deep down. You just gotta find the other stuff that keeps you happy in the meantime. Whatever it is that keeps you going.”

“What makes you happy?”

He smiled at her. “Well...what you see if what you get. Family, football, beer. Not necessarily in that order.” He was glad she was smiling again. “Spending time with the people I love. Recognising that I love them and that they love me back and that that love is wonderful.”

“You’re so lucky you don’t second guess yourself all the time.”

“Oh, believe me, I do.” he impressed. “It’s just that I learned some things a few years ago that helped me now. Like taking a deep breath and letting it wash over you. It’s natural to feel doubt but it’s what happens afterwards that really matters. It’s how we choose to perceive the things that happen to us, and how we move forward.”

“Anything has gotta be easier than feeling like this.”

“It’s not always a good thing. Sometimes you have to wait for other people to catch up.” He leaned onto the counter next to her, the mirror in front of them spotlighting them both and making them both appear a little pathetic in their current gait.

“I should start packing.” She whispered after a few more silent moments had passed by.

Neither of them made the effort to move but check-out was 2pm at the latest if Chris had bought it and she was almost certain he had. She would eventually need to make her way to the station and presumably Chris would simply head home in his car. Back to Boston. Back to reality.

“We still have some time. We could order up some lunch if you want to? I’m not entirely convinced you ate anything this morning.”

She watched him in the mirror as he turned to face her, a sterner look in his eyes. He was pretty certain he could read her face this time and her lip-bite told him he was right.

“Or we could do something else with the little time we have left.” He reached out his hand to touch hers, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She didn’t more away so he chanced his arm and pulled her closer to him before kissing the inside of her palm and wrist. “It was so hard last night.”

She smirked at him before it dawned on him. “I mean...you know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes. “It was hard for me to lie so close to you and not touch you. I really meant what I said, about you getting a good night’s rest but fuck me, it was difficult.”

“I know. It was hard for me, too.”

“We don’t get this kind of time together,” he looked down at her hands, held tightly in his. “And I’ve really, really enjoyed myself. I feel more normal around you. I can’t explain it.”

“It’s OK. You don’t need to say anything.”

This was the type of conversation Sarah would ordinarily run a mile from had it been with anyone else. Chris seemed to understand as well as he stopped himself from talking some more. She was being held in place by the literal limited space around her as he planted himself in her way. He looked down at her causing her to freeze up and, mentally, she began checking if she could feel her feet.

She slowly ran her hands up and down his arms in an attempt to sooth him. She saw him glance down at her lips and she hoped he would end the silence by kissing her but there was no such luck. He was trying to figure something out but what, she didn’t know. He was waiting for her next move.

“I don’t think we’ve thought this much about what happens, when...” he paused, gauging her for a response or an indication that she was OK with what he was about to say. Perhaps even anticipating it in some way. “Sarah, I have these feelings for you and they’re getting stronger and these past few days have told me that I’m right. Do you know what I mean?”

She did know. She didn’t much want to know, but she did. “Let’s pause this and figure it out another time, yeh?” He hands rubbed up to the rest of his shoulders. “Let’s just enjoy this while it lasts. There’ll be another time for talking.”

He wasn’t convinced but assuaged enough to kiss her again, a little harder this time. His hand slipped into her hair to hold her to him and she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck. They had time.

She should have known he would have had the idea to drive them both back home. Yes, there was no need for her to sit on a busy commuter train for three hours but still. She did almost say yes but she would feel awkward asking him to drop her off blocks away from her home and he would inevitably disagree and they’d argue. Not argue per se. They never really argued, but it would become a thing and she didn’t have the heart to disappoint him a third time that day.

They were in happy moods by the time they checked out. All ideas of having a more serious conversation had evaporated quickly after she pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. He had them both naked in record time even for him, and she made a point to memorise his face and the rush of red through his skin when she watched him cum hard underneath her.

She’d bought him a coffee from the cafe bar inside the reception and he’d thanked her with a gentle peck on the lips before slipping away via the underground garage, ball cap pulled down low over his eyes. She felt the light bruises form on her thighs and smiled to herself at the memory of where his hands had been when she walked into the apartment to find Shanna in tears. She froze on the spot.

“Oh my god, what the hell happened?” Finally finding her voice when registering the scene in front of her. Sarah dropped her bags and ran to the couch to wrap an arm around her friend. “Why are you crying?”

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Sorry, I’m...” Shanna tried to gather her thoughts. “It’s stupid really. I don’t even know what I’m crying.”

“Well, it’s not stupid. It’s obviously something because it’s made you upset.” She pulled her hand inside the sleeve of her hoodie and used it to wipe away her tears. “Do you wanna talk about it? Is it something I can help with?”

“Not really.” This wasn’t the feisty Shan Sarah knew. “Turns out Robbie wasn’t interested in me after all because he’s asked somebody else out. I should have known really. He definitely wouldn’t be interested in me.”

“Oh love,” Sarah empathised.

“It’s not even like I was really all that bothered about him, honestly.” She continued. “It’s just, it’s been a while since someone decent asked me out on a date, y’know? Someone smart who had potential. Normally, they have to be drunk to even approach me and they just end up being dickheads. All of them.”

Knowing Shanna as well as she did, she knew Shanna wouldn’t appreciate an empty platitude. “I think it happens to the best of us. You should hear some of the tales Audrey has. She’s experienced some crazy shit.”

“Yeh? How did she meet Michael?”

“She didn’t make it easy for him that’s for sure!” she chuckled and felt relief at the grin now showing on Shan’s face. “The way she tells it, she stopped looking. Just stopped going to bars and clubs, spent more time doing the things she enjoyed and more time with her friends and family. Randomly met him at a march in the city, can you believe that? He wasn’t even supposed to be there but his brother dragged him along apparently.”

“I think she was right to concentrate on her friends and family. I should take a leaf out of her book. At least you can count on them to keep you sane.”

A sense of unease found its way into Sarah’s head. “Yeh, definitely. You never know when a good thing will strike and maybe this shows you that you know what you don’t want anymore. That’s gotta be a positive thing, right?”

“Yeh, it just feels a bit crap but I’ll probably feel better in the morning.” Shanna got up from the couch and Sarah sense it was more so to hide a few more tears. “I got some wine earlier, do you fancy a glass?”

“Uh yeh sounds good. I’ll just go and sort my stuff out.”

“Oh fucking hell!” Shanna smacked her hand to her face. “I’m so sorry! How did it go?”

Sarah held her bag loosely in her hand, her attempt at making a quick getaway to her room without discussing the exam a failure. “Oh, it was what it was. I won’t find out for a little while so no point worrying about it twice, right?”

“Huh, you sound just like Chris.” Shanna said before walking back into the kitchen. “I’m sure you did great, though. You always do.”

“Thanks.” She carried on to her room to dump her stuff. She would sort it out tomorrow. Right now, she figured Shan would want to get a little bit drunk and Sarah was on a late tomorrow anyway, so...it wouldn’t do them any harm.

“Hey, Sarah?” Shan called from the kitchen.

“Yeh?”

“Who did you have coffee with?”

Confusion set in as Sarah tried to figure out what Shanna was talking about. She peered her head round the door. “What?”

“Coffee today?” Shanna responded, holding a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. “This dropped out of your coat, I think. Coffee for two?”

Confusion quickly turned into full-blown panic as she realised what she had done. Fuck. “Oh, um, I just...” She stumbled over herself and felt her skin redden and get hotter. She must have looked a sight. “Um...it wasn’t...”

“Hey, listen, you don’t need to explain anything.”

“Oh no that’s not what it is-”

“-At least one of us is having better luck in the romance department.”

“Shan, it’s not-”

“-I’m so glad you and Greg are getting on well.” Shanna handed over the receipt to Sarah before regarding what must have looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. “I mean that. He seems nice and you absolutely deserve to have some fun for a change. I know I haven’t been very supportive of this whole thing with Charlotte but I worry about you a little bit sometimes. After everything that’s happened, I guess I just didn’t wanna see you hurt again.”

Sarah was frozen to the spot. Numb. Shanna had put two and two together and thought the best of her friend. Sarah didn’t deserve that.

“He seems like he’s being really supportive right now and being the person that I should perhaps be. I will try to be better, I promise.” Shanna apologised.

Sarah looked down at the slip of paper in her hand and then to the floor, a little bit of feeling starting to return to her legs. “Shan,” she started quietly, so quietly that she missed it entirely and when she looked back up, Shanna was walking back into the kitchen.

“I mean it. You’ve always been amazing to me. Picking me up when I need it and looking after me. Everyone says I take you for granted sometimes and they’re absolutely right so I just wanted to say that I will back you up 100% from now on. No excuses. You and me against the world, right?”

Shanna flashed her a broad and hopeful grin and all Sarah could do was return a limp version in response.

“Let’s get that wine opened and you can tell me all about it.”

Shanna disappeared into the kitchen again. If she had stayed a second longer she would have seen tears form in Sarah’s eyes at the knowledge that she screwed everything up. She and Chris had diverted a conversation on the promise of having it another time but that was never going to happen. Not now.

How could it?

#Chris Evans #Sarah Bernette #chris evans x original female character #clear the area #evans fic #chris evans fic #fanfiction

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stairset · 4 years

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Hey! This comes as a genuine question from a person with 0 knowledge: what went wrong with Voltron? I've seen it being pretty popular, even compared to Avatar, so I thought about giving it a try, but now pretty much everyone treats it as some kind of taboo, what did it do to deserve such condemnation?

Hoooooo boy okay before I get started I’m just gonna say this is all my opinion and I have no intention of starting shit with anyone over this.

So basically the first season, while admittedly a bit overhyped at the time, was really good, it had a likeable and diverse main cast and they did a good job at building up intrigue and a lot of people, myself included, thought it had the potential to be The Next AvatarTM. Basically we overhyped it but for good reason. Season 2 was when the problems started as that’s when they started to really push Keith as the main guy over the others, with Allura, Lance and Hunk in particular (the characters with the darkest skin tones at that...) really getting the shit end of the stick whereas previously it felt like everyone had an equal amount of focus, and season 3 was an improvement but still had its fair share of problems, so basically seasons 2 and 3 were kinda disappointing but ultimately still entertaining and there was still hope it could get back on track.

However, while season 1 had 11 episodes and season 2 had 13, starting with season 3 they started doing this dumb thing where they’d split each of the remaining season in half and release them as separate seasons. So like for example seasons 3 and 4 were supposed to be one 13 episode season, but instead the first 7 episodes were released as season 3 and the remaining 6 were released as season 4, and this was also the case with seasons 5/6 and 7/8. And because of this format all the seasons after 2 felt really rushed, underwhelming and incomplete. Because of this, season 4 was the point where I personally gave up on the show cause it only had like, one episode that was pretty good and the rest of the season was boring as fuck. And I didn’t watch season 5-onward but from what I’ve heard none of them got any better. And I believe the reason for this is that the writers were basically shitting out the plot as they went along and had no clue where they were going with any of this shit, like for example apparently there was some shit about Lance getting an important sword thing that was never brought up again. They couldn’t even be clear about the characters’ ages which resulted in the infamous shipping discourse but that’s a whole other can of worms.

The real reason people stuck with the show so long was the characters, and the way they were all handled was the show’s biggest crime. Keith was made into a creator’s pet who hogged the spotlight, Pidge didn’t get much of an arc outside of looking for her brother for four seasons and the looking for her dad for the remaining seasons, Lance wasn’t allowed to have any personality traits other than being comic relief and hitting on Allura which got tired quickly and apparently they became an official couple even though she was always annoyed by his flirting, Hunk was reduced to just being a source of fat jokes which were admittedly present in the first season but they were few and far between whereas in later seasons they became his main thing and his other traits were largely forgotten, and the injustices Shiro and Allura were subjected to are enough to fill out their own separate essays but in Shiro’s case it culminated in him being confirmed gay via word of god ala Dumbledore for diversity points only for his partner to die offscreen, and in Allura’s case it culminated in the only black girl in the show dying in the finale for like, literally no fuckin reason.

That’s just the deal with the show itself but I’m not getting into the fandom cause it was just. A lot. It was a lot, like you just had to be there, it was the kind of batshit that words couldn’t do justice. But yeah overall I think that volt ron was designed specifically to humble people like me who didn’t have superwholock phases and make us realize we’re not immune to the big cringe and to this day I live in constant fear that one day I’ll post something controversial and someone will instantly own me by screenshotting the volt ron tags in my blog’s search bar.

#this turned out longer than i expected i never wanna say this many words about this show again #i actually have considered finishing it just to see how bad it gets and maybe try doing a rewrite but idk man idk #shut up tristan

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flerkenkiddingme · 3 years

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Ta-Min for the ask game

ok if someone gives me the opportunity to talk about my dorkass punk daughter i will 100% take it, even if i can't remember the whole post. i only remember a few of them so here's some shit closely related to some of the things on it!

I know there was a sexuality headcanon: I think I said this in an earlier post but Ta Min was demisexual, and she realizes this once her parents told her she would be marrying a man from a different island. And that was the last straw for her. She knew it was a ploy to send her away without drawing suspicion, and packed up her stuff and started living with her friend Kami. This was when Roku was still at the air temple, and once he came back early after the disappearance of his aunt, she decided right then and there that she wanted to blow this popsicle stand for good and invited herself to join his Team Avatar.

There was also a BROTP one. She had been friends with Asha and Kami for awhile, and once she started hanging out with Gyatso, they meshed really well together as well. Kami was the one who brought her out of her shell and introduced her to a lot of fun shit. Asha encouraged her to stand up for herself, which led to her ditching her family, and they totally had morosexual solidarity. And the guys? They were there for her no matter what. She wrote letters back and forth with Gyatso after the squad disbanded. They were pretty close, and learned a lot about Air Nomad spiritual ideals and Fire Sage spiritual ideals from each other.

For the NOTP one I'll talk about her enemy. Sozin didn't like her, and the feeling was mutual. He'd pull Roku aside during events and explain how she wasn't good for him for all kinds of bullshit reasons, but Roku dismissed it as jealous ex boyfriend behavior. Which was pretty much exactly what it was. It never fazed Ta Min, since she stopped giving a shit what people thought of her at the age of seventeen.

Part of the reason they were enemies was because whenever he got on his colonialist bullshit, she'd appear at the palace doorstep with the nonbenders equality movement she kickstarted and they'd be there protesting. The banning of gay marriage? She flipped her shit. Colonialization of Earth Kingdom villages? Hell to the no. Genocide of the Air Nomads? Girlfriend went ballistic. Every stupid decision he made was combated by her Proto-Equalists (sans the bending removal, she would hate that). He'd summon Roku and tell him "collect your little social justice warrior bitch," which would just make him full on quote John Mulaney. You know, "my wife is a bitch and I like her so much!"

Then there was the ship one. Say what you will about Roku, but the man chugged Respect Women Juice™️ with 3 square meals a day. He was Ta Min's biggest supporter after she left her family for good and even when he was away mastering Avatar Crap, they wrote back and forth all the time. On a certain holiday, she'd throw open the front door, march right in and be like "oh HI mom and dad, fancy seeing you here. well I just wanted to say hi, and so does my boyfriend. who is the avatar, by the way, and who actually loves me and DOESN'T think I'm useless for not being a bender. stick THAT in your elitist pipes and smoke it!" and Roku's just like "hi" *awkward wave*

As is the case with every Avatar's Love, she was slightly terrifying to certain people, but lets her friends see her as a loyal, caring nerd. In conclusion I just love the personality and backstory I drafted for this girl with 20 total seconds of screen time.

Thanks for the ask! lowkey i was itching to make another post about her but couldn't make myself do it without an excuse to do so

#ask game #ta min #atla #avatar the last airbender #i just think she's neat

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

I don’t care

summarry: a reddie x daughter where the losers are over and the daughter comes home from school with a minor injury and they later found out she was bullied. so they give her tips and maybe even fighting lessons lol

A/N: this was requested by anon I hope you enjoy!

warnings: homophobia as reason for the bullying

Water sloshes over the sides as Richie dives headfirst into the pool. It drenches Stan’s trousers, who shoots a murderous look towards Richie resurfacing with a deep breath.

‘Refreshing’, he comments, shaking a full body shiver at the change of temperature. Chloe watches from afar, disposing her bookbag on the grass with a loud clutter. Weekend arrives and she’s eager to start the plans scheduled. On Friday a pool party, on Saturday a trip on uncle Ben’s boat, and for the last day they’re going to see Richie perform live on stage.

All the losers promised they’d make it, and they did, it’s been a while since the group has reunited, work and personal issue getting in the way, but none of that matters. Sometimes Chloe thinks there’s no way they won’t get mad at one another when someone cancels yet again, but then the rejoins puts her at ease. They care for each other more than enough to stop a small, unimportant thing from ruining it. Most scattered around the pool, like uncle Stan and Chloe’s pops in the water, but her dad and uncle Bill stood a far end away from water range, a smart decision Stan begrudgingly had to admit.

'The prodicale child has returned, Richie enthusiastically announced, waving his arms back and forth. ‘Mini me is back.’

The losers greet her, warm smiles and gentle hands pulling her in a hug. Bill’s positively buzzed, the butt of many jokes at his expense of how much of a lightweight the man really is. The first try to capture Chloe in an embrace goes haywire, and if it wasn’t for Mike supporting his weight, he would have fallen face first.

It sends the rest of the groups in hysterics, not including Bill, blushing red tainted cheeks. ‘Already uncle Bill?’ Chloe goads, covering the underside of the drink in his hand in case he loosens his grip.

Waving of the concerns, Bill wobbles, aided by Mike, back to the sun chair to rest. Eddie motions a soda her way, wordlessly asking if she wants one.

‘Yeah, but I’m going to go change first.’

Her shirt is too tight for the humidity hanging in the air, and she longs for a swim, so she needs swimming attire in order to do that anyway.

----

‘Oh absolutely not’, Bev declares stiffly, her mouth set in a straight line and hands on her hips. ‘There’s no way any niece of mine is wearing that.’

Richie cackles, his head thrown back in amusement over Beverly’s reaction, following her gaze to his daughter, wearing a Hawaiian long-sleeved shirt over her bathing suit.

Chloe follows his laughter, doing a pirouette to show off her t-shirt. ‘I think it’s cool.’

‘You’re only saying that because Richie brainwashed you.’

‘I agree with Bev, one Richie fashion disaster is more than I can adequately handle,’ Stan concurred, heaving a sigh at Richie’s childish reaction of sticking out his tongue.

‘It’s not like she’s wearing it to school Beverly, and if my daughter sees me as a fashion icon, than I think we should respect that. Fuck knows she’s the smartest among us.’

A little cough draws his attention, and Stan does nothing to hide his intend.

‘Okay well Stan is up there.’

‘Please kid, I’m begging, don’t become a second Richie. Fight those parts of you that stem from him.’

‘Hey fucking excuse you, she’s my daughter too.’ Eddie heatedly adds, chopping his hand through the air to drive the point home.

‘who’s w-w-who’s d-d-daughter?’ A stutter the predominant tell that Bill is well on his way to being hammered.

‘Shut up Bill, you’re too drunk to participate in this conversation.’

Chloe giggles, knowing that the teasing remarks from her family are just that, teasing. She then finally steps closer towards the pool. The grass beneath her bare feet is strangely relaxing, the sensations of little pricks reminding her of summer days and ice creams.

‘Come her,’ aunt Bev beckons, her hand circling around the small indents of nails in Chloe’s underarm.

Without realization, she hisses in pain, retracting her hand and covering the sore spot with her remaining hand. The playful mood everyone participated in pops like a bubble.

Beverly blinks in shock, surprised by the reaction. The chatting in the pool ends abruptly, the remnants of an engaging conversation ebbing away.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, just peachy.’ A bird flies overhead, chirping away, an excellent escape out of the conversation Chloe refuses the hold in front of everyone.

‘Uncle Stan, what kind of bird is that?’

Stan eyes her suspiciously, not uttering a word to help her, and Chloe glowers at him. Thanks for nothing.

‘Let me see please’, Eddie asks his cheeks blown out, worry etched across his face. At this point, Chloe is trapped. She can’t deny something is wrong, and she can’t withhold her arm because that would make everyone even more suspicious.

‘Fine,’ she grumbles, bunching the fabric of the long sleeved shirt to reveal indents of fingernails buried in her skin, not sever enough to be of any concern, but bad enough that it is visible.

‘Chloe,’ Eddie perturbs, his fingers hovering above the wounds while he mulls over what to do in his head. ‘What happened?’

In one smooth motions, Richie lifts himself out of the water and strides resolutely their way, blind without his glasses on but still thoughtfully studying the body-langue of both Eddie and Chloe. He stoops down to inspect the wounds himself, than straightens up and tries his best to stare straight in his daughter eyes, missing by half a mile.

‘Someone did that to you?’ The intentions makes it sound like a question, but it’s a statement, and one that is impossible to refute. Nail marks aren’t accidental.

‘Did you get these cleaned?’ Eddie frets, his left hand coercing her to move to the kitchen, where they keep an emergency kid. Richie has had one to many mishaps in there.

It’s a sure sign that Eddie is freaking out and building up to an anxiety attack, worrying and fretting over someone to release part of the stress before it bubbles over.

‘Dad’, Chloe mumbles miserably, planting her feet in the ground to resist any prodding. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Who did this angle cake?’

‘Just someone from school alright. It’s not a big deal.’

‘Honey, It is. No one is allowed to hurt you in any way,’ Bev argues, her chin jutting out, only calmed by Ben’s presence.

‘Is there anything we can do? T-t-talk to whoever did this? A teacher? Say the word and we’re on it.’ Bill’s positively sobered up thanks to the severity of the topic of conversation, he fumbled over his words only once.

‘Beat him or her up? I’m not afraid if it’s a girl, I’ll hit anyone who tries to put their hands on my baby.’

‘Yes and don’t listen to uncle Ben, he might say something fucking stupid like we’ll talk to whoever did this calmly.’

‘Yes, cause that’s the best option Richie-‘

‘It has nothing to do with me okay? And I doubt she even planned on physically hurting me. I tried to remove myself from the situation, and instead of letting me walk away, she tried to keep me in place by grabbing me. Hence the superficially’, Chloe aimed the word at her dad, ‘scratches.’

‘It obviously has something to do with you. Why else go after you?’ Stan probes. The way he talks and demands thing without having to raise his voice is fascinating, like he can bend anyone to do what he pleases without breaking a sweat.

‘Because’, Chloe pinched the bridge of nose, contemplating her chances of resolving the situation without admitting what it was all about, but between her protective fathers and the solicitous of the losers, she estimated her shots slim to none.

‘Because she believes homosexuality is wrong and that dad and pops are wrong for loving each other.’

Richie grimaces bitterly, slumping his shoulders and sneering at the words sinking in. ‘Like Bowers all over again’, he spits furiously, bailing his hands into fist. Next to him, Eddie is pensively staring at the wounds on Chloe’s hand, shame speed racing through his body for him and Richie being the reason this happened to their daughter.

‘Chlo, I’m so so sorry.’

‘No. Don’t you dare apologies. It doesn’t matter. Not to me anyway. She’s a bitch, and she’s wrong for her opinion, but I can’t make her see your relationship the way I see this. I can’t force her to open her mind and broaden her horizons, then I’ll be equally as bad. I love you guys, and I don’t care you’re gay. If other people do that’s their problem and not mine. I hid the comments as I knew they would hurt you, but we know better than them. I’m going to continue living my life open and excepting of everyone and everything and she will walk around angry and upset at everything in the world she considers unnatural. There’s no outcome in which she wins, except if we let her words bother us.’

With a gentle pull, Chloe buries herself under her dads chin, tucked away in safety as her pops caresses her hair and presses a kiss there.

‘I’m so proud of you.’ Eddie confesses, barely understandable with his voice cracking through the lump in his throat. ‘Don’t ever forget how much we love you.’

‘We’ll have to discus some precautions. Like a buddy system or some shit. Or maybe Mike can teach you some strength exercises.’ Richie ponders, thinking ahead on how to avoid a situation ever again occurring. ‘But yeah, we really couldn’t have a better daughter.’

#reddie #reddie x daughter #My writing #richie as a parent #eddie as a parent #richie as a dad #eddie as a dad #it chapter two imagine #the loser club imagines #richie x eddie

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cheshiresense · 5 years

Note

In the spirit of OC appreciation Ichigo/ koyonagi from your SP!AU? Thank you for writing such lovely stories cross!

Hmm I’ll try to keep this short because I actually want to write Koyonagi/Ichigo for OC Day, and it’ll likely take place in the SP ’verse. But here’s a few hcs I’ve considered.

Edit: what is this short ppl speak of

I mean at least it’s shorter?

1. Even after Ichigo graduates and moves into his own little apartment, they continue meeting up. Not at first. Actually Ichigo’s the one who starts it. It’s been a month, and Koyonagi hasn’t randomly shown up at his door mooching food off him and pissing him off, and from long experience, Ichigo gets worried because not seeing one of the people he cares about for a while usually means they’ve either been kidnapped or they’re Up To Some Shit And Are In Way Over Their Head. So one day after work, he storms back over to the Academy, already halfway convinced that Koyonagi won’t even be there and someone’s going to tell him he’s laid out at the Fourth or something.

But no, Ichigo tracks Koyonagi down right to his office, and when he barges in, the inconsiderate asshole is sitting at his desk like everything’s normal and he’s even grading papers. Ichigo’s stunned. Koyonagi stares back at him, eyebrows raised in a way that somehow translates to equal parts perplexity, amusement, and mockery.

“Ichi-chan!” Koyonagi says, and Ichigo already wants to kill him. “My favourite ex-student! What a surprise! And here I thought you would be too busy taking the Gotei by storm to come see little old me again.” He cocks his head. “Did you need something?”

Ichigo glares, bristling with irritation, mostly because he’d clearly worried for nothing. “I don’t need anything from you!” He snaps. “But I haven’t seen you around at all! What’s wrong with you? I usually can’t turn around without you sticking your nose into my business, and suddenly you drop off the face of the planet? I thought something had happened!”

There’s a long moment of silence after that. Koyonagi’s face is now completely void of expression aside from the smile still frozen on his lips, and somehow, Ichigo gets the feeling that he’s actually managed to surprise him for the first time since they met.

It doesn’t last. Koyonagi blinks, his expression smooths over, and then he beams so obnoxiously even Ichigo’s instinctive urge to punch him is overridden by how fake it is. “Why, Ichi-chan! I had no idea you missed my lessons so much! Did I manage to instill so strong a love of Kidou in you that you just couldn’t wait to-”

“Shut up,” Ichigo sighs, already exhausted, because Koyonagi in this moment reminds him of nothing so much as he does of Kisuke when someone accidentally dredged up feelings in him that he couldn’t handle, and why are all of Ichigo’s closest acquaintances such fucking basket-cases in the emotional stability department? He sighs again and debates internally with himself for a moment, because he just knows Koyonagi will mock him for this too, but on the other hand, it’ll save him some trouble and a lot of anxiety, and that wins out in the end.

“You know where I live,” Ichigo says abruptly, because if Koyonagi doesn’t know, he’ll eat his Zanpakutou. “And yeah, my Kidou still sucks. So come by whenever and you can teach me and I can feed you, and that way I won’t have to worry you’ve pissed off the wrong person and gotten yourself killed or worse.” He scowls. “Don’t think I won’t come back and drag you home myself if you don’t visit on your own, understand?”

Koyonagi just sort of… stares some more. Then he smirks in a way that’s more a pull of his facial muscles than anything else, and Ichigo braces himself, “I take it back - I had no idea you cared so much.” He sighs dramatically. “Well I suppose, for your peace of mind, I must swing by sometime soon. Can’t have my favourite ex-student pining away in his apartment for me when I can soothe your paranoia.”

He pauses, and this time it’s Ichigo who’s taken off-guard when Koyonagi lets the mockery fade, replaced by something unreadable and distant and almost angry. The edges of his reiatsu flicker like serpents’ tongues against Ichigo’s own, and when he speaks, there isn’t any trace of his usual silver-tongued whimsy in his voice. “You shouldn’t care so much, Ichigo. It’s bad for your health.”

Ichigo’s eyes narrow, and he remembers the stiff way Kaien tends to carry himself around Koyonagi, the way the other teachers avoid this man when they can help it, the way he’s always sensed something dangerous - a threat that goes far beyond the petty cruelty and playful sadism he has no qualms showing, a threat that sometimes puts even Ichigo on edge, especially when they spar, when the bite of his Zanpakutou feels like serrated teeth in flesh - lurking behind Koyonagi’s civilized mien, like insanity and rage trapped in a cage that bends a little more each day.

Fucking basket-cases, all of them. Kuukaku once said his charisma drew in colourful personalities. Shinji told him his leniency put more knives at his back than he would know what to do with one day.

Ichigo scoffs, loudly, and turns to leave. “Fuck off. I’ll do what I want. Come by on Saturday. I’m making katsudon.”

He stalks out after that. He doesn’t look back, but as he crosses the front courtyard and out the gates, he can feel Koyonagi’s gaze burning into his back.

Ichigo’s never been as afraid of things that can kill him as he probably should be anyway.

2. The first time Ichigo brings Koyonagi to a Shiba-hosted party, there’s an awkwardly tense moment of silence as all the Shinigami in the compound give Koyonagi suspicious looks. Koyonagi just smiles away like nothing’s wrong but even Ichigo can sense the tension, and he knows by now that there’s something going on with Koyonagi - it’s not every day the Kidou Corps Commander gets relegated to Academy instructor - but Koyonagi isn’t ready to tell him, and everyone can just back the fuck off or Ichigo is giving this party a miss. He can just as easily spend New Year’s in his apartment. Asuka and Rangiku and Gin won’t mind a change of venue. But then Kaien steps in, and even though his smile is a little strained when aimed at Koyonagi, he welcomes both of them in, cuts a warning look at all his clan members, and then leads them to the buffet table already laden down with food.

Later, when they’re left alone, Koyonagi murmurs, “I thought your cousin would’ve kicked me out.”

Ichigo shrugs. “He knows I would’ve left too. And I dunno what his problem is with you, but he likes me more than he’s scared of you. So.”

Koyonagi gives him an odd look before shaking his head with something like amusement. “Only you, Ichi-chan.”

Ichigo has no idea what that’s supposed to mean but that doesn’t stop him from grinding his heel into Koyonagi’s foot and stealing half his sushi. Ichi-chan his ass.

3. For all that Koyonagi tends to drive him around the bend every other week, Ichigo enjoys his company. He’s smart, and strong, and funny not always at Ichigo’s expense but never afraid of taunting him either.

Ichigo’s never had any great loves, never had time for them. But he’s fallen into bed with a few of his friends - for the company, for the warmth, for the comfort, when the nightmares crowded too close - and he wasn’t in love with any of them but he does know he has a type, and it was never down to physical appearance.

Men or women, he didn’t care. But they usually tended to be capable - held their own in battle, knew their own worth, laughed at death and went back for more, and could look Ichigo’s Hollow in the eye without flinching.

Ichigo doesn’t know about the latter, but Koyonagi has the other three in spades, and the more time Ichigo spends with him, the more he looks forward to just having Koyonagi around, even if they aren’t working on Kidou. So he won’t say he’s in love with this man either, isn’t sure what it is or how he’s even supposed to identify it - nobody’s ever taught him that, and he’s already the sort of person who would kill and die and raise his blade against an army for a friend he’d known for three months tops; he can’t get more extreme for a lover even if he tried.

He likes Koyonagi though, cares about him probably more than Shinji would say is wise because Ichigo absolutely knows there’s something off about the guy. But ninety percent of Ichigo’s relationships have been like that, and he’s never cared about anyone with the expectation of that care returned in full. Sometimes though, Koyonagi looks at him the same way people like Hanatarou and the Visored and Toushirou did, Chad at the beginning of their friendship and Rukia on occasion and Kisuke more times than the shopkeeper himself probably knew - like they couldn’t believe Ichigo was real, and behind that, like they’d break if Ichigo ever turned his back on them, ever left them behind. And maybe it’s foolish and arrogant and stupid, but Ichigo never could leave the broken ones alone. It’s not that he thinks they need redemption or for him to wrap them up in cotton and protect them from the big bad world; it’s just that he looks at each of them and can’t bear to let them go, not when their loneliness reminds him so much of his own.

Koyonagi is a little like them, some of the time, when he thinks Ichigo isn’t looking, and it’s enough for Ichigo to set aside the apprehension he sometimes feels when he looks at Koyonagi. It might bite him in the ass one day, or it might not. But for now, he continues learning from the man and letting him come over for meals and bantering with him until he manages to drag genuine laughter out of him. And if he also sits back and admires the stretch of Koyonagi’s throat and the lazy curl of his grin that somehow lights up his whole face, nobody has to know except Ichigo.

4. “Like this,” Koyonagi murmurs, and then steps right into Ichigo’s space, a wall of heat at his back as his hands come up and around, folding over Ichigo’s own and guiding him through the motions of a particularly complicated Kidou formation. The man has only maybe an inch on Ichigo so he’s a comfortable fit against him, but Ichigo freezes at the touch, and he can feel the flush creeping up the back of his neck. He barely registers Koyonagi finishing his very hands-on show-and-tell, but he immediately misses the warmth when Koyonagi steps away again, withdrawing far too slowly and not slowly enough, the callouses of his hands brushing up his arms like an inadvertent caress, and Ichigo has to suppress the ridiculous urge to lean into it even as a different part of him wants to claw his own skin off.

Kaien likes slinging an arm around him, and Rangiku gives him hugs sometimes, but Ichigo hasn’t had anyone touch him so… intimately in a long time. Which is dumb because he’s pretty sure he’s reading that wrong, because this isn’t even the first time Koyonagi hasn’t gotten more than a little handsy when he guided Ichigo through each Kidou spell, it’s just that this time tops them all. So it’s dumb, except when he turns and catches sight of Koyonagi’s face, the man is watching him right back, green eyes gone dark and hot and knowing, even as his mouth thins into a strangely contrasting grimace.

Ichigo’s heartbeat suddenly sounds too loud in his ears.

“…You’re not subtle, Ichi-chan,” Koyonagi says after a long moment of charged silence, and for once, Ichigo doesn’t even kick him for the nickname.

Ichigo blinks, takes a breath, and squares his shoulders because he’s never cowered when it counted. “Rude. The polite thing to do here would be to ignore it.”

Koyonagi huffs a breath of sardonic laughter. “Well, no one has ever accused me of being well-mannered.” He pauses, too-piercing gaze drifting over Ichigo like a touch of its own. “And what if I don’t want to?”

There’s another lengthy breathless silence between them. Ichigo takes in the hunger burning in Koyonagi’s eyes and recalls all the little touches Koyonagi’s been giving him that don’t seem so accidental or innocent on hindsight anymore.

So alright, Ichigo is kind of oblivious when it comes to certain things.

He narrows his eyes. “You better not make this weird later.”

Koyonagi smirks at that. “I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning, Ichi-chan.”

This time, Ichigo reaches out to smack him one, practically reflex now, but he stills when Koyonagi catches his hand and tugs him a step closer instead. A gentle thumb strokes over the pulse in his wrist, and Ichigo has to stamp down a shiver. Koyonagi says nothing, doesn’t push, waits, and maybe that’s why.

Besides, Ichigo wouldn’t mind falling asleep next to someone he trusts. It’s been a long time since he could, since anyone offered.

“Yeah, fine,” he says, and it comes out rough. Koyonagi’s smirk widens, and Ichigo rolls his eyes in response before yanking the man forward, one hand coming up to catch his shoulder right before he presses his mouth to Koyonagi’s in a brief but searing kiss. He pulls back in time to see the half-snarl of surprise and checked arousal, and Ichigo grins. “My place,” he says, and disappears in a rush of shunpo, fast but not-quite-controlled. Koyonagi tears after him, dogging his heels, and Ichigo barely has time to touch down on his doorstep and get the door open before Koyonagi crashes into him from behind, all but tumbling him inside before whirling him around again and pushing him up against the slam of the door. Ichigo gets a glimpse of glittering green gone bright with the flare of reiatsu, and then Koyonagi is licking into his mouth like he wants to devour him. Ichigo groans, shoves Koyonagi’s loose Shihakushou open, and loses himself in the other’s warmth.

5. The seal glows ominously in the palm of his hand. Beside him, Ichigo slumbers on peacefully, limbs heavy with exhausted satisfaction, gloriously bare under the sheets, marked only by faint bruising that will probably be gone by morning. He sleeps half curled up against Senzou’s side like a cat, starved for touch and warmth even when unconscious.

He sleeps like he thinks Senzou can’t hurt him, so, so easily. Senzou stares at the seal in his hand, intricate symbols locked together, thrumming with power, ready to be applied at his leisure. His other arm remains around Ichigo, splayed over his back with a possessiveness he refuses to think too deeply about.

He thinks instead about trust. He thinks Ichigo is the sort of foolish he should hate, because Ichigo trusts him like he thinks trust alone is enough of a leash to hold Senzou back, like Central 46 doesn’t have the bigger claim by far, and the seal on his back still burns with a phantom pain.

Ichigo isn’t stupid. And Senzou’s let himself slip enough to give even the most clueless plenty of hints. And yet, Ichigo refuses to run away, continues letting Senzou into his life, into his house, into his damn bed, looks at him like he’s something important, something precious, like they don’t both know he’s a poisoned dagger in the dark, and Senzou should hate him for it because Ichigo refuses to heed every warning between them, refuses to stop, refuses to give up on him the way so many others have, and that’s a kind of warfare Senzou has no experience in fighting.

He should hate it. He’s tried. But it is shockingly hard to hate a man who refuses to do the same in return. Or maybe just this man. Just Ichigo.

Senzou sighs, closes his hand, and shatters the seal. The reiatsu powering it dissipates in a fluctuating spike of seething venom, and beside him, Ichigo stirs.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” He grumbles, cracking open one eye even as he throws an arm over Senzou’s waist, and Senzou wonders if he even realizes the way his reiatsu curls around Senzou like it wants to keep him. “It is way too early to still be up.”

“…You can’t save everyone, Ichigo.” Senzou says before he can think better of it, before he can even think it.

He feels Ichigo go still, and he braces for Ichigo to withdraw, to pull away, but Ichigo only stretches out, sprawling more of his weight over Senzou as he lifts his head to scowl at him.

“I can fucking try,” is his retort, all steel-edged determination, and then his eyes narrow, and his reiatsu ripples like the ocean, vast and deep and deadly, and Senzou should be wary of drowning in it, but all he feels is safe.

“Why?” Ichigo continues demandingly. “Do I need to fuck someone up for you? Are you finally gonna tell me who’s holding what over your head? Cuz you tell me and we’ll deal with it, okay? It doesn’t matter who it is.”

Senzou stares at him, stares and stares and wonders when the gods decided he was worth this man.

“Koyonagi?” Ichigo scowls again, but it’s his concerned one, heavy at the brow, soft at the edges, fierce all over as if he’d fight the whole damn world if that’s what it takes to free Senzou.

“Yes,” Senzou says belatedly, finally finding his voice again. “There are some things I have to tell you.”

Then again, Senzou’s never believed in gods. If they exist, they abandoned him a long time ago. But Ichigo is here, and Ichigo thinks he’s worth it, and maybe it’s time Senzou starts giving some of that trust back.

#headcanon meme: answered #bleach #koyoichi #koyonagi senzou #kurosaki ichigo #headcanon #nopixiera #swinging pendulum

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m-alcn · 5 years

Text

How to get away with murder(ing Lielas)

So I went ahead with the murder idea with some minor changes from the original post. Enjoy!

Marinette was sitting slumped over – her hands cupping her cheeks, eyelids heavy – on the stairs of the courtyard leading to the classrooms, Adrien sitting next to her in the same exact pose. And any other time, she would be a blubbering, trembling mess, tumbling over her words like she would her feet, but right now she could not find it within herself to give half a fuck, let alone a whole one.

It’d been a long ass week. A whole damn week of nonstop akumas, each one more ridiculous than the last and each costume ghastlier even than Bulleur on her poor designer eyes that she was seriously thinking of having the fashion police called up alongside the actual police to every akuma.

She could even see the blots of garish color behind her eyelids. She needed bleach for her brain. She needed it, like last year.

She suppressed the swear words rolling on her tongue like a barrel, but that didn’t stop her groan from letting the world know how dead she was, Adrien answering in kind. He might have no free time to breathe because of his ass of a father, but she didn’t have the mental capacities to wonder why he sounded as roadkilled as her.

School hadn’t been easier on her either. Exams. Homework. Class President duties. Lila.

Adrien’s high road approach had been a steep incline that not even her superpowered endurance could take. And Lila had been running her mouth for so long now, she could have sprinted to Mars and back.

“Oh, yes I was essential for President Macron’s victory—”

Speak of the devil.

It was a tremendous effort to crack open her lids – and she’d been lifting cars as a pass time since getting her earrings – but she saw that little liar in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by her loyal dancing buffoons who were hanging on to her every word.

Marinette took back any inkling that her classmates had brains.

She wasn’t at her full mental capacities, but even that didn’t stop her from mumbling loud enough for Adrien to hear, “For fuck’s sake, why in the name of Papillon’s soiled underpants would a French presidential candidate take advice from a fourteen-year-old Italian girl that hasn’t been in the country for, like a second.”

Adrien didn’t seem to be able to muster the energy to be righteous on behalf of bullies. He only cracked open his eye, looked at her sideways and muttered, “Gross. And yeah, she’s been getting even worse at this.”

“Was she ever even good at this? Like seriously, best friends with Ladybug.”

“It could happen,” he weakly defended.

“Yeah. If she had a death wish and wanted Papillon after her and her family.”

Adrien lifted his head from his palms, frowning a little. “Huh, guess I didn’t think of that.” When Marinette only hummed a little in response, he turned to her. “How’d you even know about Ladybug?”

“I saw her yelling at her in the park, right after Lila threw your book on heroes in the trash.” This was one secret she was tired of keeping, and she was not taking the fall for that ungrateful piece of shit.

“Wait, what!” He whipped his head to her so fast it was a wonder he didn’t break it, his voice attracting everyone’s attention, especially a pair of narrowed olive eyes that she really wanted to never see again.

Marinette only flapped her hand at him. “Don’t worry, I got it back to your father.”

That didn’t seem to placate him as he continued gaping at her. But as she wasn’t looking at him and was clearly done with the topic, he slumped over giving her a pout and glaring at her of all things. “We’ll be talking about this later.”

She just listlessly shrugged.

The students seemed to have stopped paying them any attention, while Lila kept an eye on them even when she was regaling her loyal subjects with grand tales of her excellent bullshit, so she just changed the subject none too subtly. “Anyway, do you think she has an off-switch?”

She didn’t have to clarify who, so Adrien only gave a tired sigh. “Probably not.”

“I can make her one,” Marinette muttered darkly.

“What do you mean? Like killing her?” Adrien let out a laugh that only seemed to choke in his throat when he saw how utterly serious she looked. He stared at her for a horrified minute, as though seeing her for the first time, before he seemed ready to yell at her, remembering himself at the last second and hissing at her, “Marinette! You can’t do that!”

But if he was hoping to convince her, he went about it completely the wrong way, as Marinette came alive, throwing a deadly look like she was ready to kill him, and seeming to focus on the wrong word. “Oh, I can’t? Trust me, Adrien, I am fully capable of offing her and getting rid of the body without anyone knowing it was me.”

He stared at her, half scared out of his mind and half turned on of all things. That seemed to encourage her to elaborate even though it was the last thing he wanted her to do.

“I have different approaches and really they all depend on my mood, if I want it to be quick, painful, without any clue.”

Despite himself, Adrien found himself morbidly curious, exhaustion taking a back seat in his mind as he focused on his cute-and-from-the-looks-of-things-murderous friend. “How?”

Marinette gave him a sideways glance, barely stopping her lips from curving as she saw the curiosity peeking like a nervous rabbit from beneath his horror. She straightened a bit, slapping her hands on her thighs and turning to face him head on.

She might have given this train of thought some frankly inappropriate deliberation, that Tikki who’d seen some nasty things in her lifetime gave her the same look Adrien was giving her, but she came around, seeing as it made her less stressed. Even now she could feel Tikki giving her a half-admonishing, half-amused nudge through her purse, probably mumbling about how Plagg would approve.

She was a bit more energized, so with a clearing of her throat, she stuck up her index finger, making sure to keep her voice low, lest the vultures come swooping down to defend poor defenseless Lila. “Okay, number one. I finally crack and get akumatized like I almost was about two times already and go after her.”

That seemed to surge Adrien forward as he clutched her shoulders in a tight grip, brow furrowed and worry across his face. “You were almost akumatized? When?”

“When she came back to school.”

“How’d you escape that!”

“Because I’m Marinette.” She puffed out her chest a bit, sticking up her chin proudly.

Adrien regarded her with a fond, thoughtful smile. “I can believe that.” She felt the traitorous fluttering in her stomach that she’d been trying to quell ever since she resolved to get over him. “But then wouldn’t that be undone by Miraculous Ladybug?”

“Well, I don’t think Ladybug would wholly disapprove considering how much trouble she’s been giving her. But anyway, that was a plan that I was never going to use, because I wasn’t going to give either her or Papillon the satisfaction.”

Now the horror completely receded, replaced by awe and he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to know more, curious how her brain worked. “Well is that the only one?”

Marinette stared at him for a second, before she rolled her eyes in a strangely familiar way. “Pfft, the only one. I number my plans, because the alphabet’s too short for them.” No seriously, that confidence was familiar and appealing in equal measures. “Anyway, seeing as magic is real, there’s nothing stopping me from getting an untraceable poison or potion.”

“Wouldn’t you need to search practically the whole world for that?”

“I know a guy.”

“You- you- what? Marinette, who have you been talking to?” No really, it seemed he didn’t know his friend at all and instead of being disgusted, this was making him want to know her more than anything.

Again with the hand flap. “Oh, don’t worry, he wouldn’t approve either.”

Leaning closer to her, he flashed her a teasing smile. “So you’re basically telling me useless plans.”

She was too tired to freak out, and something about this was weirdly familiar, so she only shook her head. “Nope. They could all work if I’m stubborn enough, and believe me, I am. But I’m giving you a lot of my plans, so you know exactly how likely I am to succeed.”

“Hmm, I don’t believe that, but I’m learning I shouldn’t underestimate you.”

“Damn right. Okay, number three, during lunch I could go to her house, introduce myself to her mother as a friend from school, giving her a different name in case Lila’s brought her shit home and I’ll swipe one of her kitchen knives, wear a complete disguise, then accost her on her way back home, or I could wait to see if she ever has plans after dark.”

Adrien rubbed his chin, really getting into it now. “But you might be a prime suspect, with your animosity and last visit to her mother. They’d search your house and find your disguise.”

Marinette tapped her nose, giving him a wink. “Ah, but I was planning to burn my clothes over the Seine.”

“You’d still be a primary suspect. And why steal the knife from them?”

“Because it’s from their house, it could be classified as a suicide. I could even wait a month maybe, so the visit doesn’t even seem relevant.”

“Okay, but the name you give, it might bring you some time, but her mother would still be able to give a description of you.”

“I’m a fashion designer, I could change my hair, my clothes, my height, my face and no one would recognize me.”

Adrien nodded, because he knew what a really talented designer was capable of. He hummed and started counting on his fingers. “So, lets recap with this plan. It needs two disguises, a knife from her house, burning the disguises and an attack in broad daylight. You forget you need an alibi, and this is needlessly complicated.”

Nothing the Fox miraculous wouldn’t give me. I could be caught on camera on the other side of town. Plus, I don’t think they’ll really consider that a fourteen-year-old could kill anyone.

“I could actually fix all the kinks in that plan, but it would be more complicated, and it would look like number four!”

Adrien gestured at her to continue and with a smirk she did. “This one is completely at night, also with a disguise that I will dispose of and glasses to obscure my eyes. She has a window in her bedroom, so I scale to it—” she was interrupted by Adrien’s laugh, so she gave him the stink eye. “What?”

He continued to laugh, bringing some people’s attention to them. “I’m sorry Marinette, but I find it hard to believe you could scale a two-story window.”

She crossed her arms. “And why not?”

He rubbed the back of his neck as he finally realized that he might have hit a nerve. “Well, it’s just, that you’re clumsy, that would make sneaking into her room, a bit… hard.”

“Justice gives you wings. And trust me, Adrien, you don’t know everything I’m capable of.” She glared at him, tightening her arms around her chest.

Adrien opened his mouth to argue, but he paused, taking in her posture, his eyes widening and cheeks flushing at the straining fabric of her jacket contouring her arms. He looked away, clearing his throat and silently willing the color to recede from his face. “Guess not.”

Marinette relaxed her arms, giving him a curious look, obviously seeing the color in his face but thankfully not seeming to know its cause. With a wave of his hand she resumed detailing how lucky they all were that she was a good person. “Okay, once in her room, I lock her door and then smother her with a pillow. As I’m in disguise, I leave no fingerprints. No blood. No weapon.”

Adrien nodded, humming in thought, before he snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “And if you leave behind a footprint or a hair?”

“Hairnet. Plus, I’m already wearing a face mask.”

“And the footprint?”

“What would I have even been stepping on anyway?”

“Maybe she has mud under her window.”

“Assuming I wouldn’t avoid stepping on it,” she shot him a look to which he only nodded, “well I’d wear very thick socks, get those things dirty, tie the clean boots around my neck, then when I made it to the window sill I’d wear them.”

“You could still leave a trace on the carpet.”

“I’ll get boots from the men’s section. All the police would be left with is the size of the shoe.”

“Won’t they slip off?”

“I would stuff them with carton.”

“I think someone would remember a girl buying guy shoes.”

“And why wouldn’t they assume it was a gift?”

“Good point. What if her mother heard her muffled screams.”

Marinette cupped her chin, then gave him a chilling smile. “I could either turn up some music at a low volume, or I could be prepared with a remixed track in her voice saying she was having a nightmare and needed to be alone.”

“Needlessly complicated again, but it still feels like you could be caught.”

She gave him an irritatingly familiar smirk. “Aw, worried about me? Alright, number five is a modification of number four. I could borrow Chat Noir’s miraculous, get rid of the bedding and ash, make it look like there was a struggle and poof, no proof.”

Adrien instinctively cupped his right hand, hiding his ring and drawing Marinette’s curious gaze. He desperately tried to distract her so the cat would stay in the bag. “That one seems simple after all the others.”

“Sometimes simple works.”

“I have the feeling he won’t be giving up his ring.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t. But I have some tricks up my sleeve and Ladybug does too. Plus, that was only number five.”

“You’ve put way too much thought into this.” And damnit he couldn’t hide how morbidly impressed he was. Still. “Marinette, you aren’t an Everyday Ladybug, you’re a criminal.”

Marinette put her hand to her chest in offense, though considering this whole conversation, she couldn’t exactly fault him that.

They were so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t notice the lull of the courtyard and the approaching students.

“Plus, I don’t think you should implicate revered heroes if you have so many complicated ways to kill her.”

Before Marinette could argue the merit of the heroes turning into mercenaries, they were interrupted.

“Marinette? Adrien? What the hell?”

They turned to face one very horrified Alya, face reminiscent of Adrien’s at the start of the conversation.

“Marinette? Kill? Who?”

It was only after they shared a look that they both realized they hadn’t used a single name during their whole conversation.

Marinette turned back to Alya, whom everyone seemed to be using as a shield, as multiple pale faces stared at them. Even Lila seemed too surprised to take advantage of this situation and start a pity party about how Marinette was plotting her murder. Even though it would be the only time she would be telling the truth.

So she heaved herself to her feet, giving them a sickly sweet smile that made everyone take a step back, holding out her hand to Adrien who stared at her for a bit before clasping her hand.

With immense ease she hauled him to his feet in a way that must have caused a headrush, if the way he was red and staring at her was anything to go by.

So with a cheery, “Class is about to start” that seemed to unnerve everyone, Marinette pulled Adrien up the stairs.

Feeling a little too much like his alter ego, Adrien said in a casual voice, “Maybe you should be plotting Papillon’s demise.”

Marinette’s bright, “I have!” was just the topping on this extremely weird sunday, as just about everyone seemed to flinch.

“Maybe you should have been planning ways to expose her rather than kill her,” Adrien whispered to her with a quiet voice that didn’t carry even in the oppressive silence.

So she responded in kind. “Oh, that list is even bigger. And it’s even underway.”

“Wha—”

They weren’t even at the top of the stairs before a voice disrupted the quiet with an almost audible crack. “Mlle. Rossi. My office,” M. Damocles yelled from the railing over to the courtyard.

That seemed to jolt Lila from her stupor. “But—”

“Now!”

As Lila started to slowly climb the stairs, Adrien turned to Marinette, admonishing her without any real heat. “Marinette.”

She only smiled back at him innocently. “What? I just seemed to have met Mme. Rossi on the high road. As a concerned Class President, I went to her house to be more accommodating of a student’s disabilities and it seemed Mme. Rossi was under the impression that the school has been closed for months, the duration of their stay in Paris. Where they weren’t traveling.”

Adrien opened his mouth to protest, then remembered the book and how Lila almost cost him his freedom, and closed it. “Well, I think she’s got whatever happens next coming,” he muttered.

As they approached their class, he didn’t stop himself from voicing one last thought. “It’s a really good thing you’re not a villain.”

Marinette only beamed at him, hands clasped behind her back.

“Bwahahahahah!”

“Plagg.”

“Hahahahahahah!”

“Plagg.”

“Kid, I really like your princess.”

“Ugh.”

“Marinette.”

“Unnnhh.”

“Marinette.”

“Sleeeep.”

“Marinette, don’t you think you might have spooked your classmates. Especially Adrien.”

“Uhhhnnhn.”

“Marinette.”

“Sleep. Now. Freak. Later.”

@lexysama @mrtacothethird @nobodyfamousposts

#ml salt #ml salt fic #my posts #ml fic #ml fanfic #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #marinette #adrien #marinette dupain-cheng #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrinette #adrienette #miraculous fic #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous salt

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elmaxlys · 4 years

Note

21 QUESTIONS FOR JUOKA, LETS GO! 3 4 5 6 11 12, also 20 because I am acutally curious ! (i shall ask the other ones in another question)

ALRIGHT THEN HELL YEAH 👀👀👀

3) What is your favorite AU/prompt idea/trope for your pairing?

Fav trope is obviously enemies to lovers because come on XD

But favorite AU, oh boy. I have so many of them how do I choose... But probably any canon divergence AU in which Juo survives - be it against his will (as in Yuri got close enough and grabbed him by force) or because his “don’t want to die”-ness was strong enough to overshadow his convictions and he took her hand. The infamous Redemption Arc AU that lives in my brain and I haven’t written one line for because I have too many versions of the same thing lmao i just really like that AU

HOWEVER I can’t not mention the Juo’s Apostle AU here. I rarely ever talk about it but damn... Rika as Juo’s Apostle... I don’t even have any definite or real idea for this AU other than “wow. that’d be dope” but jesus christ the simple idea of it puts sparkles in my eyes

4) Do you prefer canon ideas or do you have your own headcanons for them?

I’m gonna go with canon, here. Miura’s characters are pretty solid yet, in Juo’s case, vague enough to allow hc to fit in without disrupting canon. And their storyline is why I ship them so much in the first place. Also they both incredibly stick to character all along and that’s very hot of Miura to stay consistant in depiction. We say “Thank you Miura”

5) Favorite canon moment of them?

*inhales* YOU ASKED *talks about the Juo arc for so long you’ve stopped reading after the first few paragraphs but it goes on for 50 pages*

I’m only half kidding, because my fav canon moment of them is every single of their interactions and I could go on so long... They’re constantly trying to outsmart the other, to try to manipulate the other into lowering guard, but they’re so evenly matched both in terms of brains and in terms of raw power that they just can’t and they’re stuck and jfc the tension, the undressing, the shameless flirting. The entire phone conversation.

Tho if I really have to chose, it’d be either “If I have a demand, it’s you” or both of the “I surrender please don’t kill me”.

6) Least favorite canon moment of them?

It’s kind of fucked up on my part but I love the ugly parts of their relationships. That’s what it’s like to ship enemies. I can’t answers the threats, the manipulations or the murder attempts because that’s what their interactions are made of and that’s what I like. For the first seconds they saw each other they already went the full “hey let me just point a gun at your face while you manipulate me into not killing you despite how much I really should do exactly that”. I saw that and went “nice 👀”

11) If they aren’t a canon pairing, how would you get them together?

OKAY SO. HEAR ME OUT.

The mask proposal and then boom- careful it gets long

It’d go approximately like this: canon divergent of course but: Juo manages to stop Okihara from destroying the mask or kills Okihara so he doesn’t use the mask he kept for Rika. Then they get on the helicopter and Juo gets the code before allowing Rikuya from seeing it. Having seen the code, Juo is strong enough to resist the Administrator who took Rikuya’s body (then if okihara isn’t dead yet, Admin kills him because heh). Then either Juo pushes him off either Yuri just shows up for their fight and takes them elsewhere. We now have 2 almost full gods + one complete devil. Yuri fights the Admin, defeats him and becomes the new Admin, leaving our final two god candidates to the last level (that we actually don’t know of. how fucked up is that)

So. Judges VS Juo. Juo is like “whatever I only wanted the code because it sounded fun you can be God if you want” and the Judges are like. Bitch we went through all this just for that? And Juo’s like *shrug emoji* “I wanted to test something tho” *takes out his mask* “I want a proper fight with Rika-kun” and Rika is like dude seriously? i sorted my intensities, I’m as strong as the mfing Judge here why would you want to make me wear a mask to then fight me and Juo really doesn’t care because come on that’d be so fun. and they do fight. Rika becomes a 2nd Juo and Juo is having fun. But they’re of equal power. Juo has some vague thoughts of “ah I don’t want to die” like every time but then he realizes that it’s the last fun thing he could do. he’s so powerful no fight will ever have flavor again, you know?

Fighting Rika was his goal and he accomplished it, he didn’t get him to beg but he’s fulfilled but also really really empty now that it’s over so they’re both like huh. I can’t kill you you can’t kill me what up with that and Rika refuses to give up because hey his family, man. So Juo. Man Juo would tell Rika to kill him. No irony, no fake smile, just a tired but honest one, if a little sad, and Rika lowers his hammer like. No. I won’t give you the satisfaction of having me kill you. You were right from the beginning, I won’t kill an unarmed human that’s not resisting. And Juo is like “dude there can’t be two Juos anyway that’s against the rules” and rika is like “that was your idea in the first place wtf” and yuri is like “i make the rules” and, just like she was so ready to give him a second third chance in canon when she jumped to save him, she fully recognizes both Juos as one (like the Judges, you know?) and Juo is like okay yeah I was wrong, that’s nice. And he has an excuse to hold onto Rika because none of them can stand straight on his own

Bam, they’re married by the Admin power and they work through their issues together and Rika slowly accepts his title as Juo - which would be a metaphor of accepting the actual Juo - and they become real close and none of them really confesses they just. you know. are together. It’s smooth, they move in nebulous waters when it comes to their relationship. they don’t have an anniversary etc. But yeah, they’re together

12) If you had to take them and plunk them into another fandom, what fandom would that be? Why?

I’ve only watched the first season but probably the Walking Dead. It’s gore, it’s violent, it’s post-apocalyptic - it suits them.

20) What made you decide to ship them?

I actually have no idea sskksk I think I’ve shipped them for approximately as long as they’ve been seen interacting so I can’t remember exactly but it probably was a mix of the following elements:

“I’ve been thinking about you all this time”

man, the sexual tension in this room o_O

man, they’re both hot, they’d look well together and also I’m crushing hard on both of them so, you know,,,

“If I have a demand it’s you”

“I’m glad to see you, Rika-kun”

everything about Juo

his every line

how alike they are

shipping my faves together because why the hell not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

oh.

oH.

OH.

UTAREN VIBES HOLY SHIT (was my ultimate otp at the time etc but that probably was on a less conscious level than the one i’m writing here because I’m a dumb idiot that only realized the similarities recently)

I just really like the bad boy x good person trope, okay? even more than the actual enemies to lovers (that I enjoy a lot)

all of that buried under the stupid guilt of “yo hey why would I ship them that’s so messed up haha,, ha :’)))” that made me deny to myself that I shipped them for a loooong time

#long post #sorry about the length i'm really passionate about them #but thank you so much for asking about them ;v;#juoka #juo #suzuki emiri #honjo rika #tenkuu shinpan #romance

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chyrstis · 4 years

Note

Hana/Sharky or Hana/John for the Ultimate Ship Meme?

@raisinghellinotherworlds

I’ve got Hana/Sharky here, so let’s give Hana and John some attention, especially since this next fic I’m working out should give them a lot more to work with. :D

Hana Vao / John Seed

General:

Rate the Ship -

How long will they last? - There’s a hell of a lot that the two need to work through and work out, but once they do, they’re in it for the long-term.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - It’s not love at first sight by any means of the word. John eyes her during the initial arrest, but is dismissive. Hana’s only set on looking at Joseph once his attention starts boring into her, and hardly registers that the other siblings are in the room. After that, and once Hana really starts laying into John’s operation, he’s infuriated and intrigued, and Hana’s all too glad for the opportunity to piss him off. But John does fall first, and it’s not too long after she tries to capture him that feelings start entering the mix. Hana’s much further off, but by the time John does start finding ways to ‘help’ her and they seem genuine, any feelings towards him start warming faster than anticipated. There’s a bit of a rift that forms before the two go underground, but over the next few years they’re able to repair it, and start a relationship on much more even footing.

How was their first kiss? - Their first is incredibly ill-advised. It’s during an attempt to capture him, and Hana’s injured and desperate and in the middle of grappling with John when a thought pops into her head. ‘Sharky said he’s into me. Maybe I can use it to weasel out of this? No big deal.’ So, she kisses him. Kisses him and goes, ‘Oh, shit, he’s actually pretty into this’, and then punches him in the dick right after. Their first real kiss is a different kind of desperate later on down the line, and luckily for John, doesn’t require any dick-punching. He does make sure she actually wants this before continuing, however, and once she does confirm that, proceeds to pour every feeling he’s tried burying into it.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Hana! It’s honestly something that they never sat down to discuss officially, but she has no doubt in her mind that she wants to ask John once the idea’s been planted and she has a ring to do so.

Who is the best man/men? - There’s no ceremony for them, and considering John’s previous role (and the amends he’s trying to make), he would find it difficult to fill this position. Sharky would 100% try to volunteer, though and at that point would just be dragged into participating in the actual wedding himself, so....

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Hana would also find her hands a bit tied, and understandably so.

Who did the most planning? - Hana, though by planning it’s more ‘get John alone so she can talk to him’ and luckily for her manages to catch him working in his room. Then when she’s about to get the ring out, fumbles it, and has to dig it out from under his desk while he’s sitting by it. She doesn’t hesitate to propose once she gets her hands on the ring after that, and John’s honestly left speechless for a good minute once he realizes just what she’s doing.

Who stressed the most? - John. Up until that moment he’d drawn a few conclusions he shouldn’t have, and Hana’s glad to prove him wrong.

How fancy was the ceremony? -

Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big. -

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - N/A - Technically no one was invited since there was no official ceremony, but I think it’s safe to say that Joseph’s invite would've been lost in the mail. Or set on fire by Sharky.

Sex:

Who is on top? - They do tend to switch, but there’s been plenty of times where Hana’s put John right on his back, and he’s hardly tried to stop her.

Who is the one to instigate things? - They’re both pretty awful teases. It’s entirely a game of how much extended eye contact they can hold across a room and during conversation before the other cracks or gets the hint. John also enjoys trying to see how much innocent innuendo he can come up with, while Hana goes for small touch after small touch, seeing how close she can get to him before trying to leave the room. If it’s in an isolated area, she usually doesn’t have the chance, but if not, John’s usually not far behind.

How healthy is their sex life? -

Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now - It would be a ten here, but their moments together are a bit more spaced out at the start of their relationship. Once they’re officially living together, though...

How kinky are they? -

Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - At least a couple of rounds depending on how much time they’re able to have together. Ideally there would be no rush at all, but they don’t always have that luxury.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - It’s certainly something they try for, but John would enjoy casually losing count whenever she'd try to tally them up. And would likely be in the process of trying to get an extra one out of her just on principle. The jerk.

How rough are they in bed? -

Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. - They really have two speeds here. Some night’s John’s softer, caught up in the fact that she’s actually there with him and wants to be, and he can’t help but want to look at her, touch her gently, and take his time. Others, it’s only a matter of waiting for a second of privacy before they’re trying to tear the other’s clothes off.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? -

No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory. - John gives her a little space from time to time, but it’s hard for the two not to touch each other in bed, and he won’t hesitate to wrap himself around her. It’s reassuring to have her that close, and more often than not, he’ll actually start drifting off due to the level of contentment setting in. But most affectionate gestures remain behind closed doors for them, so there’s no heavy doses of PDA going on, no matter how badly they’d want to express it otherwise.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - One, which John was nervous about to start, but relaxed as time went on. I’m thinking William (Will? Billy?) for his name, mostly because John didn’t like Theodore (if she can’t honor Ted, she’d honor Bill), both Bruce and Wayne were also shot down, and J-names were right out. (and Hana might’ve shed a tear that night over how many of her action heroes were actually named John)

How many children will they adopt? - N/A

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - At first it’s Hana due to John’s nerves in handling the baby for any period of time, but he’s able to adjust and let go of that fear once they talk their way through it.

Who is the stricter parent? - They’re even at first, but as John gets more comfortable with the idea of parenthood (and makes more peace with the fear that he’ll be just like his parents), he’s able to be more of a disciplinarian. But it really takes very little for him to crumple like a wet paper bag.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - John. He doesn’t have to try too hard with Will, but has a cautious word to share just in case Will thinks of ever being half as much of a daredevil as his mother.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - John’s got a system down, but Hana’s there to sneak in added things to boost their kiddo’s day, like extra fruit, or a cookie.

Who is the more loved parent? - They’re both evenly loved, but Hana’s laid-back nature definitely leads to more partner in crime bonding opportunities (and good-natured pranks on John).

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? N/A – In a No-Cult situation John would be able to finesse his way through these in a way Hana never could. And she’s all too glad to skip them entirely.

Who cried the most at graduation? - N/A, but Hana would be swiping at her eyes, and trying to badly hide the fact that she’s sniffling.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - John. John 100%.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - John will try to get her out of the kitchen to bear the brunt of the cooking, but never fully succeeds.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - John, if only because he’ll actively try to stick to a balanced diet.

Who does the grocery shopping? - John would probably take the reins here if only to get specifics, but Hana would definitely want to tag along and sneak a few extra things into the cart.

How often do they bake desserts? - It’s not a common thing at all, but the minute Hana mentions missing desserts and cakes, John might make it one of his priorities. Even though he’s terrible at it.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - If Hana had her way it’d be mostly meat, but John gently twists her arm into getting a bit more variety into her diet.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - John, and it’s a struggle at first learning to do without a lot of the items he kept in his kitchen, but he slowly learns, and goes as far as thinking of mood lighting, music, and the like. It’s a brand of romance that Hana would call ridiculous at first glance, but secretly swoons a bit over.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Hana would for ease, really. John can stress a little too much about making sure every last part of the meal’s perfect, and no matter how many times she’ll tell him it’s fine, he still tries to go that extra mile.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - It’s actually about 50/50 for these two.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - John, mostly because he seems like the type to stress clean and reorder things as a means of centering himself, and poor Hana has no hope of ever being that neat.

Who is really against chores? - Neither’s against chores, but Hana does draw a line with the extent she’ll deep clean things.

Who cleans up after the pets? - These two don’t have pets at first, but the cats that Hana ends up attracting lead to more than a few guests sticking around, and she tends to keep up with them.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - This is a rare case of neither, unless Hana’s exhausted and wanting to put it off until tomorrow and John’s back is turned.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - John. Things must be in order and staged well, even if the guest in question is a human tornado.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Hana. She’d probably pretend to do a magic trick with it afterwards, being incredibly obvious about where she’s trying to pull the money from (his pocket, behind his ear), but John would play along, using just enough fake awe to get her to crack and start giggling.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - John. With the shower he used to have, it was the ideal environment to relax and think in.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - These two don’t have a dog, but there have been times when Hana’s been out (or John), and a few of the cats will just start following them. That totally counts, right?

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Hana loves decorating, but John turns it into an event, and he’s so over the top elaborate with it she can’t help but laugh and love it all at once.

What are their goals for the relationship? - To build and keep trust and respect between them. To try harder, and be better.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Neither normally, but John’s odd sleep schedule might leave him sleeping until noon if he was up until 3-4 AM getting work done the night before.

Who plays the most pranks? - It’s actually closer to even than Hana expected it would ever be, but she wins this one.

#raisinghellinotherworlds #I feel like on average each one of these takes at least 1-2 days to complete #it just can't be helped #but I do love these two (and had to resist listing some OT3 stuff as well)#thank you so much for asking by the way!#deputy hana #john seed #otp: you're the ghost in my heart

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timedriving · 4 years

Note

Timeblazer [For the ship meme Because why not? XD]

send me a ship and i’ll tell you… ( accepting )

who hogs the duvet JOHN!!!!! HOGS IT!!!!!! and it’s not even a “something that gradually happens at night” thing, it’s a “john realises eventually that rip doesn’t actually care about not having it, and so when they’re about to go to bed he wraps himself up in it without asking if rip doesn’t want to share and rip is totally cool with this”

who texts/rings to check how their day is going to check how their day is going? rip. for whatever random reason because he’s feeling bored? john. and sometimes the boredom isn’t JUST staved off by the messaging, but because he’s thought of some new stupid nickname to give rip in his contact list, which he always has a nice chuckle over. anyway rip’s texts are always fairly standard and john will text him like “look at what we found in arkansas mate” and it’ll be a picture of a mountain of rat skulls and rip’s just. thank you. for sharing this with me

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts JOHN... LMFAO... i like to think that rip gets john a birthday gift, right, and it’s something fairly useful, like the helm of hades or something, and john’s like “oh yeah, thanks for the cosplay item, love” and rip’s like “it makes you invisible, john.......” and so john’s like. well shit! and though rip has no actual birthday (he doesn’t know when his nameday is, john!!! it didn’t matter in the future!!!), john suggests they make it the sixth of september (6/9) and rip is like. he sighs about it. but you know what. okay. and on rip’s birthday he gets a plastic bag full of junk (e.g. a stick of gum, an opened pack of cigarettes, an unopened toothbrush), and it doesn’t matter to him, so rip’s fine... except when he gets up to leave and go back on his adventures, he finds a new book in his bag about the history of cereal or something, and he ends up unable to leave because he wants to nail john in his living room

who gets up first in the morning it’s impossible to wake up earlier than a man who only needs like 4 hours of sleep every two weeks, so it’s definitely rip. but i think on the nights that rip does sleep, sometimes john will wake up earlier just to be like “well someone’s certainly slept in” and rip will find himself unable to resist laughing about it-- he’s softer when he’s just woken up, a bit more open with his emotions, and john knows it

who suggests new things in bed john. absolutely. it’s got to be john. though i think if he’d suggest something on the bdsm side of things where there’s proper technique and protocol and stuff involved, rip’s highly likely to get into it enough that he’ll research things himself and be able to make his own suggestions. but stupid shit like “oi, you ever shagged a man in your office before? all those glass windows--” will definitely come from john and rip’s definitely going to be like “i hate you, but also bend over”

who cries at movies i can’t imagine them particularly inclined to watch a lot of movies? and when they do it’s shit like the blob or jurassic park or whatever, not movies that are supposed to be emotional tearjerkers. probably john is more likely to laugh so hard he cries if they ever watch something like that, but i think they’re more or less set in this area

who gives unprompted massages see, rip has discovered that massaging john when he’s feeling tense makes him a bit noisy. and he quite likes when john is noisy. and that means... you know, he’ll do it after a hard case or something, just to make john’s toes curl

who fusses over the other when they’re sick rip’s more visible about his concern, and john likes to go “YEAH, MUM, ALL RIGHT” about it, but, like, you know. i think they’re both really weird about it, in that rip doesn’t really take care of people like this and john’s not used to having someone around when he has a nasty case of the flu?? and john will give him shit for it, of course, because rip fussing is hilarious in its own way, but... he’ll listen. mostly. but he’s still going to smoke. and they’re going to have to have this game where rip hides his cigarettes places and john has to find them and it’s terrible

who gets jealous easiest rip is the jealous type! it’s unfortunate! and it’s not like he gets irritated every time john flirts with someone because... let’s be real, that’s kind of in john’s programming to do it by default, but you know. he can’t help but feel a bit insecure in the case of exes or something. it’s not something that visibly sours his mood or makes him more of a douchebag but like. it’ll be there in the back of his mind like a splinter

who has the most embarrassing taste in music rip finds it... so cute... that john’s taste in music has stayed the same throughout the years. john finds it hilarious that rip’s discs and vinyls range from the beatles to guns n roses to the barenaked ladies to taylor swift, but only taylor’s “speak now” album “taylor swift? really?” “mate, you need to listen to ‘long live’, that song is-- something” “.......hm”

who collects something unusual THEY’RE BOTH WEIRD HOARDERS OF WEIRD THINGS... though i guess rip’s collection is bigger, considering he likes to bring home souvenirs from different points in time. but then, considering that ‘weird’ is their normal, maybe it’s not super unusual? probably the real unusual thing is the fact that since dating rip hunter, john’s home has never lacked cereal, which is... something

who takes the longest to get ready they both wear the exact same clothes everyday and don’t really change out of the norm. it’s easy to get ready. at most there’s only ever a competition when it’s like “last one to be out has to do the laundry”

who is the most tidy and organised rip wins this one, but rip’s always been about efficiency and order and making sure everything is under control. john’s stuff is a bit more haphazard, and sometimes he’ll leave shit that was for work lying about, but it’s not like he’s the type to make a pigsty. rip doesn’t move any of it elsewhere on the virtue that he doesn’t want to deal with anything freaky happening if he touches it on accident... at most he’ll just empty john’s ashtray or do his dishes or something

who gets most excited about the holidays i don’t think they’ll celebrate holidays much, but john probably’s got something about halloween, even if it’s simple? rip probably likes the december holiday season, meanwhile, but only because it’s one of those traditions that’s celebrated even in his future... even if he never celebrated it before. i think he’ll have fun decorating a tree

who is the big spoon/little spoon rip’s the big spoon. no contest. john won’t ever admit to wanting a bit of affection in such a simple way and rip won’t ever admit to really enjoying giving it to him, but it’s like. they’ll be in bed, and john’s going to roll onto his side, mumble a quiet ‘good night’, and rip’s going to say it back, and then the quiet’s going to continue. john has the blankets all to himself and rip is staring at the ceiling, and when some time’s passed he’s going to turn onto his own side and wrap an arm around john’s middle. and john pretends he’s fallen asleep, but he hasn’t yet-- he relaxes just a bit, and rip knows this, and nobody’s going to say anything as rip’s mouth brushes quietly over john’s shoulder

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports there’s no competition when john’s lungs give out so easily i think they’re pretty equally competitive in cards or dice games or something though

who starts the most arguments i think john’s most likely to start arguments with like... a stranger at a pub or something, but not necessarily an argument between them? they have a kind of weird way of being able to relate to each other, which i think makes it easy for them to be agreeable with things and opinions. or at least makes it easy for them to talk instead of going all aggressive and angry with each other

who suggests that they buy a pet GOD... i don’t think either of them are pet types? at most they’re going to be talking to the owner of a pet store or something for a case, and whilst waiting for them to be available to speak with, john’s going to point at a big-eyed cat like “looks a bit like you, mate” and then rip’s going to buy it out of spite like “in case you ever miss me whilst i’m gone” and then they have a cat. i can’t even think of a name they’d give it. rip’s going to be simple and say “steve” and john’s going to be a shit like “the bringer of judgement” and so her name is steve the bringer of judgement, “brij” for short

what couple traditions they have god, drinking and karaoke. but also i like to think that rip and john are eventually going to be able to jam together, and it’s? the chillest thing? rip knows all the songs that john likes, so that’s easy, and maybe here and there john will write lyrics and rip will compose for them, and it’s... easy, and they don’t have to think much, and it’s nice also rip will sit with john every time he waits for his hair dye to set and that’s that. i like to think one time they’d ended up making out and john had to swat rip’s hands away from grabbing his hair like NO... DON’T

what tv shows they watch together cooking shows. i don’t know why i can see them watching cooking shows, but somehow it’s so easy to picture?? like just a sort of lazy television watching thing where they’re not even really paying ALL their attention to the tv, but it’s certainly going...

what other couple they hang out with at some point in their lives they’re going to double date with sara and ava, and ava truly cannot believe that this is rip’s steady partner, that this is the man he is dating, that her former boss is now sleeping with... with this blond rat... except rip seems genuinely happy, so... she’ll be nice... otherwise as chas and renee rebuild their marriage they’ll totally go on double dates. and john will be less of a bitch to renee and renee will be less of a bitch to john and. it’ll be good actually triple date with chas/renee + jim/zed + rip/john would be really cute?? there are two normal couples and then there’s the third one who quietly go ‘i didn’t know there’d only be chicken on the menu’ ‘this is a chicken restaurant’

how they spend time together as a couple rip has a weird penchant for just going on drives or walks, like he can’t get enough looking around the place, which john doesn’t necessarily get but is cool to indulge in. even cooler is when rip decides to portal them to different places, and he’ll get to show john different historical places and tell him true eyewitness accounts of them. i think the day he finds out john actually has some interest in history is the day that his eyes get weirdly bright and he is just... filled with this excitement to show him everything that he knows, and share with him everything that he knows?? drinking and talking is a good staple for them though. they do like to drink, and they do like to talk, and it’s not a half-bad thing to get handsy in the middle of it. besides that i figure they’re easy enough to just stay in the same space doing whatever. rip’s not even bothered by john’s bizarre spell-learning rituals any more!

who made the first move can you believe rip hunter, young time apprentice, saw the frontman for this shitty english punk band and thought he was so captivating on stage that he HAD to have him? and he bought a drink, and he did start speaking with him, and he was so fucking awkward when he spoke to him but still somehow got a kiss? several kisses? TO SPEND THE NIGHT WITH HIM????? anyway the short answer is rip made the first move. the fucking idiot. though i imagine in their reunion it was john who was more openly flirtatious, even if it was in a teasing way, and rip just fell for it like the sucker that he is

who brings flowers home john, in his misguided attempts at proper romance, brings home some daisies. rip, surprised by this, takes them, and then teases him about how much he does like him, and john tells him not to get used to it! christ! it was just ONE nice thing-- a nice thing that rip does appreciate, he says as he kisses him, because he doesn’t think he’s ever gotten flowers from anybody before

who is the best cook rip is better. just, in general, objectively better. john even prefers rip’s eggs and eggs are supposed to be his speciality. rip likes to cook for him, though, and even goes to the effort of filling tupperwares with food for john to have in his fridge whenever rip’s not around, just so john doesn’t have any excuses not to eat anything any more even when he nukes it and it turns out the middle of the food is cold, john’s the type to keep eating it anyway. and even when it’s cold, it’s like... damn, rip hunter really can cook, huh

#PERFECTEDINGBADIDEAS #OOC MEME.#A REMINDER OF YOUR PUNK DAYS.#[ stop... i love them......... ]

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years

Text

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: I had some time, am back home, and figured I’d just start reposting back from the beginning. I wanted to start with something that I haven’t seen in ages. Something that’s more personal to me. Edit and change it as I post. Because I’m in a far different place than I was three years ago, and I hope it shows this time around. So...I hope you enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Upcoming Warnings: Show level violence. Mentions of childhood trauma/sexual abuse sprinkled in (not super detailed. I do have my limits). Smut. A lot of detailed smut. Kidnapping. Near death experiences. Etc. Individual chapters will have different warnings. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: Roughly 3,500

“Could you get anymore annoying?”

“Sure.” You smirked broadly, eyeing up the competition with nothing short of arrogance. “I could be just like you.” That made Sam clench his jaw, and eyes flash dark. A reaction that showed just how much you were getting to him without even trying.

“Why do you keep her around?” Sam turned to his brother at the table, clearly attempting to hold back as much of his rage as he could manage. His knuckles were white against his skin while gripping his fork. Face carrying just a hint of red in his cheeks that pulled in tight. Revealing twin sets of unimpressed dimples. You couldn't help but to ponder what his blood pressure was. Definitely on the higher end.

He'd been in a mood from the moment he walked into the bunker, according to Dean. Sam had been 'perfectly fine' before then. It's probably because I was the first thing he'd spotted when he'd opened the door.

You two had been verbally sparring ever since. Nothing new. Your heart beat a little too fast from it all. Maybe I should check my B.P. while I'm at it.

“The entertainment value alone is worth it.” Dean grinned broadly at his brother. Drawing you back to the dinner time conversation. “She's the only one I've seen you really lose your temper with, Sammy. Plus, she's a mean cook.” He took a larger than life bite of chicken to emphasize his point. A grunt of approval was released while his eyes closed in bliss. “We can't cook like this. We'd be back to take out nonstop if she left, or I'd have to take up the mantle. And that...” Another giant piece of meat was shoved into his mouth, “That just feels like a crime.”

“I'd play humble, but I agree. I did knock it out of the park tonight.” You moaned out after a bite of your own. Noting the way the younger brother's eye twitched in response. “Plus, I'm a great maid. And am great at sorting through that mess called a file room when you're done with it. I could go on for hours, but you're already looking a little green, Sammy. I'd hate to see the food I worked so hard on go to waste.”

The flush darkened from your never ending sass, or the 'Sammy' usage. Either way, it was working. He was coming unhinged. His scowl got deeper as he shoveled his food into his mouth, eager to flee from your presence.

Whether he liked it or not, you really had assisted in making their lives easier in multiple retrospects; including the home cooked meals- something they rarely had before you joined the gang. And as a result of your ability to coexist with his boar of a brother, Sam was stuck with you. For life, the way things were going.

You had learned to appreciate getting under the younger Winchester's skin to some degree, and fought back another grin of triumph. Of course, he happened to see your lip twitch in amusement; forcing his glower to deepen further. It really was too easy most times.

It had begun the very first moment you two had met. You'd been a bit of a klutz that day; dumping coffee on his lap before you could even say hi. Tripping over your feet from the anxiety.

Dean had made the introductions while Sam suppressed his annoyance; attempting to not chew you out right from the start. You'd sat in embarrassment, trying not to cower from his dark looks. From there, the tension only got worse until it was clear he despised you even to poor- typically clueless- Castiel.

Unfortunately for Sam, you and his older brother had become close before you'd ever met him. Even if you had been useless to their lives, Dean would have kept you around out of nothing more than emotional attachment. Poor Sammy had no choice but to suck up your presence in the bunker as a result. Only getting a reprieve when him and Dean left for a hunt, or he went out solo.

At first you'd tried. Really tried. You'd even talked to Dean about ways to get his younger brother to warm up to you. You hated the tension and awkwardness that Sam seemed to feed off of. Nothing worked. If anything, every shy overture increased the hostility. Eventually, you had just given up. Dean had gone to the bat, determined to assist until he saw you start to give it as good as you got it. Then, he decided to step back and enjoy the show.

And what a show it was. For just over two years, war waged in the bunker. You didn't return Sam's deep hatred, but you certainly weren't above rising up to it. For every barb thrown your way, you returned one. More if the circumstances were right. And often, they were more than right.

At first, Sam had been surprised when you'd rebelled. It was enough to give you some peace for a few weeks, even. Giving you space as he processed the change. Then, he'd adapted to the new attitude. Finally finding someone he could take whatever was wrong in his life out on.

Over time, it became almost like a game between you two. Who could take the most heat? And for the most part, once you'd joined in, you two were equals in the battle.

“So, what'd you do while we were out?” Dean asked, mouth still full. They'd driven straight through; crashing as soon as they'd hit their rooms. He hadn't really had much time to catch up.

“Made a little head way on the file room. Dusted. Put all of the books in the library back. Ya know: maid stuff. But, most of the time, I ended up at Alice's.” You answered with a shrug. It wasn't a terribly exciting life you led. Unlike him and Sam.

“How's she doing?” His interest piqued. Chewing slower as he waited for you to give him the details.

“As happy as a woman on bed rest, in her eighth month of pregnancy can be.” You chuckled, thinking of your friend. She was a taller, naturally willowy woman with long strawberry blonde curls. Sporting a belly as big as a yoga ball in front of her. “Bane thinks she's going to pop any second. He's turning into a wreck.”

“Poor, guy.” Dean chuckled. Picturing it with ease. “I'll have to drop in sometime. Grab a present for the beast-to-be. Maybe that'll calm some nerves.”

Bane was slightly taller than either Winchester, but less bulky. His hair was practically black, it was so dark. The pair of had-been-hunters had been a package deal with you. Dean had joined into the gang without a problem once he'd met you. An amazing feat for the natural loner. Sam had taken to them with a similar ease- one that had excluded you.

“I'll go with you.” Sam spoke up, ignoring the sour look his words dredged up. Just great.

–

“Sam!” You screeched, tearing down the hall the next morning. As soon as you were able, you slammed onto his door with your fists. “Open up, you coward!” Teeth ground together as his bed creaked, but no other sound emitted. “Bastard!”

“What the hell is going on?” Dean peeked his head out of his door to see what was going down; hair sticking up everywhere. Ever the sleepy hedgehog. “Y/N? What's your problem, now?”

“He put dead fish in all of my drawers, and then shut off my air conditioning!” You hissed out. The putrid scent still clung to your nostrils. Riling you up further. “So, not only does my room smell like rotting fish- No, that wasn't good enough. He made sure that the heat stuck the scent to everything. I can't get it out! I've gone through three air fresheners! Three! I don't have a window I can open, Dean!” You turned back to the door, putting your entire strength into the knock. The wood shook with the force of it. Every bit of murderous rage transferring from you to the door in the process. “Sam Winchester! You're dead! Do you hear me? Dead!”

A string of very detailed- though empty- threats ensued, making Dean roll his eyes and walk away; carrying an 'it's too early for this shit' look on his face. With a sigh, he tightened his robe. Moving to seek out coffee. Wondering, not for the first time, if it was truly worth it to have you both at each other's throats.

Sam grinned as he heard the muffled sounds that were no doubt promises of retaliation over the music thumping in his ears. He'd decided you'd earned a present for all of your 'impeccable' manners the night before.

She really should've remembered to lock her door. He'd learned you were a fairly solid sleeper early on, and had used it to his advantage when he felt the urge. Sam was almost insulted that you hadn't kept your guard up. Maybe I'm getting out of practice? The increased echoes of you shouting confirmed that wasn't the case.

He'd rarely started prank wars in his life, preferring to finish what Dean started. But in your case, he'd made an exception. Several times. Wonder how long it takes her to check inside her box spring? His grin grew wide while he pondered over that one, turning up the volume until nothing else could be heard. Letting Celine Dion block you out. She thinks she's mad now...

You left to visit Alice to cool down; knowing that the moment you spotted the younger Winchester, you were going to lose your cool further. Exactly what he wanted. You'd be damned if you'd give him anymore satisfaction than your blow up that morning had already delivered.

“He did what?” She was trying not to laugh, making you narrow your eyes her way as you paced through the pale, homey room. She coughed to cover up her broken chuckles. Finally, the blonde almost made it to a serious note. “No, you're right. That isn't funny. It's awful.” A snort she couldn't seem to help left as she rested on the couch.

“It's like he's a five year old!” You grumbled, crossing your arms as maturely as you could. It failed. You resembled a sulking child, yourself. “I had an easier life in that one foster care home. The one with all the boys- The James's house. You know all of the horror stories from that place.” A shudder ran through you as you recalled being the only girl out of nine kids. “As bad as they were, at least they learned not to piss me off. This guy gets off on it.” Your eyes narrowed further as you thought about your room, again. “He could at least pretend not be so cruel. I mean, a water snake in the toilet would have been less evil.” At your friend's disbelieving look, you clarified, “That doesn't make all of my possessions reek indefinitely. It's short term misery.” Because that made perfect sense.

“I'll have to remember that one.” Sam's deep voice made you spin around to the living room entrance. Speak of the devil and he shall appear...

He looked too comfortable resting near the kitchen. The way his plaid glued to his shoulders made him too large for you to stand. His expression too smug. It made you wonder just how cocky he'd look once you gave him a black eye. Maybe a split lip.

“Don't even think about it, Winchester.” You hissed out. He grinned in merriment as your E/C eyes flashed his way. “I grew up with that one. Always look before you sit.”

“Great advice.”

“I try to be helpful.” Your tone was anything but. If looks could have killed, Sam Winchester would have been a dead man. Again.

You wanted nothing more than to strangle him for his childish prank. But, giving him any more satisfaction? You'd rather die.

Instead, you pulled out your inner ice queen that drove him crazy. All the while plotting your revenge. You felt your features relax into the cold mask you'd picked up in your childhood as you two looked at each other. The tiniest twitch in his left eye made it all worthwhile.

“Sammy!” Alice cooed in joy, holding her arms out for a hug. He stopped the stare down so he could move to bend down to her; wrapping her in a warm embrace. Careful not to crush the bump at her middle.

“How's the beast doing?” He asked before settling beside her on the couch. Behaving like a regular human being rather than a monster. You leaned against the wall, unwilling to take any of the open seats beside the giant ogre.

“Having a great time using my ribs as a trampoline.” She chuckled with a light grimace as her stomach rolled lightly from the movement of the child inside of her. Made all the more visible by her thin tank top.

“See, the perfect nickname.” He teased, having coined the unborn child once it started becoming more active. Watching the infant lull inside the womb with amazement.

“I don't know. I'm sure I can think of someone more fitting for that title.” You smiled sweetly, making sure to bat your eyes for the extra appearance of innocence.

No one in the room bought it. Not even the child. All movement seemed to cease in response.

“So, have you two decided on a name, yet?” He ignored you, and went back to the baby talk.

You'd known he didn't have much to do with kids having grown up the way he had. Sam was thrilled at the prospect of being exposed to an infant before he eventually settled down into that life style himself. It had never been a secret.

As much as you disliked the man, you couldn't help but appreciate how intrigued he was with the entire thing. It was oddly adorable to see such a closed off- to you, anyway- man so enthused about new life. Though, you'd let a bus run you over before you admitted that out loud.

“We have an idea for a boy-”

“And a girl?” You asked, knowing exactly what was coming. However, you couldn't resist the jab.

“It's a boy. Why would she worry about a girl's name?” Sam looked at you as if you were crazy for even suggesting that option. The normally- when you excluded yourself from the equation- rational man was a hundred percent certain that he was right. You hoped it was a girl out of nothing short of spite.

“You're aware that we didn't allow them to give up the sex, right?” Alice chuckled at how solid Sam was on the baby's future identity.

“I just know.” You rolled your eyes at his response, earning a look from Alice that screamed for you to behave. With a low sigh and pursed lips, you forced yourself back to the nothing. Leaving your face empty as it relaxed.

“There's our favorite girl,” Dean walked in through the kitchen's entrance with Bane at his side. The proud papa-to-be was all decked out in his work gear- having landed a job with a local mechanic. Dark hair mused from the long shift. Meanwhile, his counterpart was in his usual clean cut layers. Spick and span without a hunt in sight.

“I thought I had that title?” You mock pouted as Dean trotted over to kiss Alice's cheek; forgetting about the mask you were supposed to be sporting.

“When you're stuck in a bed- or on a couch- for four months, you can have your title back.” He sat down in the rocking chair beside her, making sure he winked your way first. Dean rested as close as he could. Always the protector of the young and innocent.

“You're not crazy doped up on hormones,” Bane walked over to you. Making up for the Winchesters' neglect. “So, you definitely have the edge.” He wrapped you up into a friendly hug. Giving you a sense of calm that you hadn't felt since Sam had walked back through the bunker's entrance.

You loved the big man like a brother. The both of you had met years ago while running away from your foster homes- well before Alice had joined the party. You two had been closer back in the day. Even so, the newfound distance regular life threw between you two didn’t take away any of the affection.

“She's just crazy in general,” Sam muttered, earning a swat from the closest thing your group had to a mother figure. “What? Am I wrong?” She just stared him down. Waiting for his will to crumble. Sure enough, he gave in. “Fine, sorry.” He grumbled. Then, the conniving bastard played his hand. “See if I give you the chocolate I bought...” His lips quirked up as he teased her, knowing her weakness.

“Chocolate?” She quickly agreed with his assessment of your character; earning a small, fond, smile from Sam. You were almost jealous at how easily he had taken everyone else. You'd never once received that look.

You didn't remain long after that. Hated feeling like an outsider within your own group of peers. You never stayed long once Sam infiltrated your favorite get away zone.

Instead, you fled to the closest store to pick up more air fresheners and groceries for the bunker. You took your time. Conversing with the locals and grabbing some food. Knowing that Bane and Alice would feed the other two.

By the time you forced yourself back to the bunker, they still weren't back. Part of you was relieved. The rest of you? Frustrated. You didn't let yourself dwell on it. Instead, you threw yourself into work.

“That dick.” You hissed, pulling out the last dead fish from under your bed. Without a hitch, you tossed it into your trash can beside you. The rotting corpse churned your gut. It took everything in you not to gag as you glanced around to make sure it truly was the final one.

“He's upped his game since the last time we'd gone at it.” Dean's voice made you jump. The action slammed your skull against the frame loudly. “Oh, damn. You okay?”

“I'm good.” You rubbed your scalp lightly, wiggling out from the danger zone. “All of my clothes are in the washer. I think I finally found the last piece of tuna. And, I can kind of breath in here, again.” You had fans on, and the air fresheners were finally making a difference...slowly. “I think I'm good for right now.” It took every bit of strength you had not to rub your head as you flipped the can up to tie the bag.

“You know, if you wanted to leave...I wouldn't stop you.” Dean's words made you freeze for a moment. When you finally looked up? Dean looked haggard from the day he'd had.

“Why would I want to leave?” You played deliberately obtuse as you moved to slowly sit on your bed.

You should have known that he'd have been able to read you like a book. He was awful when it came to himself, but you? He'd noticed the wear the bunker was leaving on you.

“Come on, Y/N.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'd have to be blind to miss how miserable you and Sam are around each other. And you? You seem to be having a harder time than usual. And that got me thinking-”

“It's nothing compared to some of the homes, Dean.” You sent him a soft smile. He knew all about your past, and winced at the thought of what you'd been through. “Not to mention, you two aren't the only legacies. This place... It's in my blood.” You looked around your room, taking in the only place you'd ever felt safe enough to sleep soundly in. It was amazing what a simple DNA test could uncover. “Plus, what would I do without Dean Winchester down the hall to turn to?”

“That's just it.” He was clearly bothered by what his mind had conjured up. Frowning even deeper as he started to pace. His hand moving aggressively as he talked. “We're not here all of the time. We're gone way more than we're home. You don't have me just down the hall-”

“So, get me a puppy to have for company while you're gone.” You laughed lightly. Getting to your feet, you reached to grip his broad, navy covered shoulders. Forcing him to look at you. “Dean, I'm fine. Really. If I had any complaints, I'd let you know.”

You appreciated his concern. It made up for everything else. Even with his brother's behavioral problems, you were happier in the bunker than you'd been in your entire life. It didn't matter if things were a little more heated than usual the past few weeks.

“That's just it, Y/N.” He looked you deep into the eyes. “You're always 'fine' nowadays, but when's the last time you were more than that?” Just like that, your face fell. You hated when Dean got deep, and hit home...

Part Two

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