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heliads · 1 year

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Tewkesbury x male reader where they are childhood best friends and reader ends up kissing him out of nowhere and runs away embarrassed

ooh i love unhappiness

masterlist

You are about to break a law. Well, more of a regulation, really. Plus, you’ve committed this particular infraction so many times with the victim’s consent that at this point, does it even count as being wrong-

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Point is, you are about to trespass on some very private property, but it’s okay, because it’s owned by your friend. Your very good friend, actually. You’ve known this particular young man for years and years, maybe even longer than you’ve known yourself, and that makes it okay for you to hop the fence on his property just as you’re doing right now.

Honestly, does it really count as a crime if the landowner himself taught you the best place to scale the wrought iron gateway to make it over? No, you decide midair, right before your feet hit the grass, no it does not. Besides, you’re going to knock on the door like a normal person anyway. You just want to make a quick stop first.

There’s a window on the far side of the house, the one facing the sprawling garden paths somewhere to the south instead of the bustling streets. It’s not on the ground floor, so in the interest of attracting the attention of the occupant, you won’t be able to knock on the window directly. Instead, you grab a small stone from the ground, and, tossing it once in your palm to gauge its weight, hurl it two stories up so it thuds against a certain glass pane.

Raising a hand to your eyes to block out the sun’s glare, you squint up at the window until you’re certain you see a sign of life and movement. You don’t wait for the resident to open the sash and peer out, although you’re certain that he does. Instead, you continue your mad dash around the house until you reach the front again.

Only then do you slow your pace, casually strolling up to the door as if you’d come across the house in a normal way instead of taking a haphazard shortcut through the lawn. You knock once, and are answered a few moments later by the pounding of feet down the stairs. Usually, you think the Viscount Tewkesbury tries his best to be as proper and appropriate as befitting a member of the House of Lords, but all that decorum seems to go, well, out the window whenever you’re around.

Maybe that’s just the perks of having known him for years. Tewkesbury is your oldest and dearest friend. The two of you met when you were the younger sons of the country’s wealthy men, both forced to attend various events and functions since you were small. You were always bored out of your mind until you met him. Then you never knew the meaning of the word again, not as long as you were with him.

You don’t see Tewkesbury as often as you’d like now. He’s busy with the House of Lords, you’re busy with your work as a student in the university, and that means your paths rarely cross except in exceptional circumstances such as today.

That’s why Tewkesbury is all but throwing himself down the stairwell now. The door is flung open, and then an arm is flung around you, multitasking by pulling you close in a friendly embrace and getting you over the threshold all in one go.

“Easy,” you laugh, “I don’t think it’s been that long since we last saw each other. Try not to strangle me, will you?”

Tewkesbury just grins. “Oh, don’t be dramatic, you’re fine. Besides,” he says, voice dropping off to a whisper, “that’s just what you’d deserve for hurling rocks at my window. That’s quite rude, you know.”

You roll your eyes but hug him back anyway. “Now that’s dramatic. I just wanted to get your attention. I’ve lost track of the amount of times I’ve tried to come over just for you to be asleep in your study. My time is important, I won’t have it wasted by waiting for you to wake up.”

He chuckles, although you notice he quickly steps away again the second another pair of footsteps comes running. Tewkesbury’s hands immediately busy themselves in his pockets, and you’re reminded of how he looked when the two of you were much younger children who had been caught trying to sneak out to roam the land past dark. His head is tilted down, and were it not for the fact that you can still see a glimpse of mischief sparkling in his eyes, you’d think he was almost feeling guilty.

Almost. Still, he’s fighting back a smile even after his housekeeper hurries into the room, repeating frantic apologies about how she really should have been there to let you in herself, no trouble to either of the young sirs, but she just didn’t see you come up the front path.

“Really,” Tewkesbury says conversationally, “I can’t imagine why that would be, Y/N.”

You would glare at him, but Tewkesbury is grinning shamelessly at you now and that means you can’t be furious for a second. Instead, you assure his housekeeper that everything is fine, then swat your friend on the shoulder the second she turns her back.

Tewkesbury gestures for you to follow him back to his office, just like always. This won’t be the first time that the two of you have sunk long afternoons and evenings into talking for hours in his study or yours, nor will it be the last. That’s how your friendship has worked for quite some time now: dead silence for weeks, then entire days spent by each other’s side, then nothing again. Some days it hurts, but today you’ll be happy. Tomorrow doesn’t have to even cross your mind.

You think it might kill you sometime, fighting this hard just to keep him around. Were it anyone else, you would probably give up the battle and let uncertain unfamiliarity cloud your memories, but you can’t, not for him. Tewkesbury is, well, it’s impossible to describe just what he is to you. He’s your oldest friend. The only one that matters. The only proof that the kid you used to be and whatever you are now could be the same person and still be good. If Tewkesbury believes in you, then you can do anything. Anything at all but face your truth.

Tewkesbury shuts the door, then idly slumps into a seat. You take the one opposite him, just as you always do, raising an eyebrow at the way he’s already starting to fidget in place.

“So much energy,” you comment wryly, “I thought you would have been dead tired from trying to wrangle the House of Lords all this time.”

Tewkesbury groans, covering his face with his hand. “Don’t remind me. It’s worse than trying to herd cats. The only time anyone agrees is if someone’s paying them out.”

“And what about you?” You point out, “you don’t seem to be accepting all that many bribes.”

“That you know of,” he says with a small smile, although even that drops off soon enough, “No, you’re right, I’ve been trying not to cave to political pressure. I know what has to happen for all of us to get better, to make the laws that let everyone get better. The road to get there is just very, very difficult.”

“Now I feel bad about complaining about university,” you muse.

Tewkesbury looks alarmed at the mere mention of your studies. “As you should. I can’t fathom having to take exams at a time like this. Every time I’m losing an argument, I remind myself that I’m not still in school like you, and that somehow makes it better.”

You fight back a proud coil of warmth currently circling your heart at the thought that Tewkesbury might think of you even half as often as you think of him. “Come, now. Are you trying to tell me that advanced physics proofs and timed philosophy essays aren’t tempting to you?”

Tewkesbury shakes his head frantically. “I’m fairly sure that those are methods of torture. Anyway, I do enough basic studying on my own time. Not to come for your title of most esteemed scholar, but I have been picking up French a bit faster than the last time I saw you.”

Your cheeks will hurt tomorrow from all this smiling, you think. “You continued with French? I was hoping you did.”

On your most recent venture to Tewkesbury’s place of residence, you had casually mentioned the fact that you were taking classes to study the French language. Tewkesbury had expressed an interest in learning it too, but you weren’t sure if he would remember it once you left his sight. It appears that was not the case, however. Indeed, he must have spent quite a lot of time poring over the books. All because you brought it up the once.

Tewkesbury inclines his head proudly. “I’ve actually remembered a few phrases I can use. Here, I’ll show you.”

He proceeds to rattle out a few bits of conversation, including a reference to his name and occupation, a comment on the weather, and a reminder of the fact that you’re his best friend. This last part twists your heart a little, and not just because you’d gladly hear that validation any hour of any day, just to know that it’s still true.

No, you’re more focused on the fact that Tewkesbury’s last sentence involves a compliment paid to you. He meant to say that you were kind, you think, a kind or a compelling friend, but instead, he looks you in the eye and says that of everyone he knows, you are the loveliest.

There are many adjectives he could have used, but no, it was that one. You stare at him for longer than you should, then cough quickly and look away, wondering why you feel as if the ground might fall to pieces beneath your feet.

“I think you mean something else,” you whisper, “Might want to look up a few words one more time.”

“Why,” Tewkesbury presses, “what did I say?”

Haltingly, you answer him. “You said that I was– I was lovely.”

His gaze stays stronger for a moment or two, then he lets out a weak sort of laugh. “Of course, you’re right. I would never– I didn’t mean to say that, no.”

The dizzying feeling in your heart turns dagger-sharp. “Right,” you force yourself to agree, “that’s absurd. Don’t agree too quickly, though, or my ego will take a blow. I prefer to think of myself as the most attractive young man in this entire nation, and if you claim I’m not lovely in the slightest, I shall most definitely be hurt.”

The joke smoothes the embarrassed furrow from Tewkesbury’s brow. “I’d never want you to be insulted, my, uh, fair man. I’m sure all the ladies faint whenever they see you.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice dropping off, “the ladies.”

Tewkesbury stays silent, face twisting in the way it always does when he’s thinking something through. You can’t bear to remain here with him looking at you like you’re a problem in need of solving, especially if he were to find out what you might be trying to say, so you take steps to cut him off before he realizes anything too damning.

It is a shame, then, that the first thing that comes to your mind is to kiss him. It is not the right time. It is not the right place. It happens anyway. One moment, you’re standing there like nothing is the matter, and then you’re crossing the floor and kissing him. It feels more right than anything you’ve ever done before, but that doesn’t stop it from being a colossal mistake.

You break away almost as quickly as you kiss him. Tewkesbury looks even more bewildered than before, his eyes wide, his collar rumpled. You’ve never had a problem with keeping him in your line of sight for longer than strictly necessary, but his gaze is bad now, a burning brand of guilt that you can’t seem to shake.

You turn for the door before another thought can cross your mind. You’ve been here a thousand times, so you know exactly which turns to take, how to make it down the hall and out into the bright sunlight in a far shorter time than should be possible. You make it down the block and then you’re running, sprinting down the street, hurling yourself away as fast as you can.

This is it, then, how you ruin it. You were wondering when the friendship would end: quietly, with the gentle sigh of too much time working against you, or with a loud fight. This is the third option you never counted on, the one where you lost control and took what you wanted instead of pushing it away for the billionth time. Tewkesbury will hate you for this, or worse, he will brush it off as strange and never think of you again.

Your university is a short carriage ride from wherever you end up, so you head back to your dormitory and lie on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You have no roommate to question why you look as if you’ve just killed a man, and no work can possibly hold your attention at a time like this, so you stay there, eyes up, heart sinking further and further into the floor.

You come back to reality only when you hear a knock on the door. Glancing around you, you realize that it’s grown dark; you hadn’t realized that until now. Lighting a lamp or two first so as to not alarm your visitor, you cross to the door and unlock it. You’re fully expecting to see a schoolmate or two, but instead the young man waiting for you is Tewkesbury.

He looks just as out of sorts as you must. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, then Tewkesbury speaks hoarsely. “Can I come in?”

He’s never had to ask before. Things are different now. “Of course,” you answer him, and shut the door once he steps inside.

Tewkesbury has been to your dorm before, so he’s comfortable with the place. He still doesn’t take a seat, but stands there in the middle of the room, fingers worrying a few loose threads at the ends of his cuffs.

“I wanted to talk about what happened,” he says slowly.

This is what you hoped he wouldn’t bring up. “We don’t have to,” you reply feebly.

“I want to,” he repeats.

You sigh. “Alright. It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Why not?” Tewkesbury asks the question so simply that you’re certain that you must have misheard him, but no– he’s still standing there, expression just as earnest.

You blink in surprise. “Because it– we never did that before, I don’t want to mess things up–”

Tewkesbury shakes his head. “We should have done it earlier.”

This really does stun you. “What?”

Tewkesbury drags a hand roughly through his hair. You almost think he’s just as surprised at his words as you are. “I– I don’t want you to leave, Y/N. I don’t want you to run. I want you to stay with me.”

Your breathing is shallow. “And what if I kiss you again?”

“I want that too,” he says, and that’s when you know.

Every time that you have wondered why this friendship was cursed to be forever a bit one-sided, forever shifted a little too strongly on your side when you couldn’t keep your heart beating platonically whenever he was around, Tewkesbury felt the same way the entire time. Every day, every hour, every meeting. You were kicking yourself for falling in love and he was doing the exact same thing. It is marvelous to realize.

You exhale quietly. “You could have said something a little earlier, you know.”

Tewkesbury snorts indignantly. “You could have too.”

It is just like the two of you to snip at each other in the midst of such a grave crisis. It makes you laugh, and that makes him laugh by nature, and then you know that it really is okay. It will all be okay. Such is the way of things. You could not hurt him if you tried.

enola holmes tag list: @thatfangirl42

#tewkesbury #tewkesbury imagines #tewkesbury x reader #tewkesbury oneshot #enola holmes #enola holmes imagines #enola holmes x reader #enola holmes oneshot #enola holmes tewkesbury #enola holmes tewkesbury imagines #enola holmes tewkesbury x reader #enola holmes tewkesbury oneshot #viscount tewkesbury #viscount tewkesbury imagines #viscount tewkesbury x reader #viscount tewkesbury oneshot

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zzoupz · 2 years

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i bringeth Notes for the swap AU

i tried to keep some core bits about them in mind while coming up with these! feel free to take or leave any of this in art or conjecture, i just wanted to share what i'd written down because that art injected both serotonin and brainworms straight into my mind

Gary (swapped with John) — A priest who's so popular some like to claim he runs a cult. He's still manipulative, but in a charismatic bastard way (and has good intentions at heart), and is much more a philosopher and debater than canon!John. He doesn't scare nearly as easily when exorcising demons (he’s quite numb due to trauma of his own “exorcism” at young age at his mom’s daycare) — definitely houses some Hot Takes that the Vatican does not approve of and is not afraid to speak out about injustices in the Vatican . Amy (swapped with Lisa) — Gary’s secret confidant and observer, often gathers information from rumor mills and parses out what’s true and what’s false. Still works at the abortion clinic, to her parents’ extreme distaste, and she rooms with Gary because her family will not take her back until she quits her job and repents. (Both Gary and Amy think this is bullshit, and Amy has no plans to go back home ever again.) Surprisingly level-headed and quick-witted for an eighteen year old from a sheltered Catholic home. John (swapped with Gary) — A man terrified of and disgusted by the world’s evil and wants to purge it through his cult, though he is weak-willed and at the whims of the demon Buer, who uses demonic energy to “purify” his followers and blind one of their eyes (though it can see supernatural things and acts as a portal to Hell). He hides away in an abandoned asylum and forest to perform his rituals, and the cult sports a lot of deer iconography. Lisa (swapped with Amy) — John’s childhood friend and most loyal compatriot. She is completely willing to let her body be a mouthpiece for Buer and a tool for his machinations—the visions she constantly beholds have taken a deep toll on her sanity, and her words no longer make sense unless you are deeply entrenched in the cult itself or have taken measures to “open your mind” to it (a la canon!Gary’s injection). Miriam (swapped with Garcia) — Gary’s mother, retains her maiden name whereas Gary takes her late husband’s surname. A devout Catholic running a daycare who is determined to make her son into the perfect child of God. She is disappointed by some of his decisions, but will fight at his side nonetheless. She’s probably where Gary gets his “smiting” tendencies from. Often wears a mask to cover up some lasting scars that came from her own past battling demons. Whereas some would use guns, she much prefers swords, even in her old age. Garcia (swapped with Miriam) — Known in the cult of Buer as “the grandfather”; a sage-like figure to John and Lisa, able to interpret the words of demons best and urges John to continue on with his goals. He is a lapsed Catholic, John having manipulated him into the cult at a time when his faith was weakest. He tends to the demons that grow from John’s “gardens” like they are his own children, and will grow increasingly violent the more damage is done to them or the property.

________________

WOAGH GOOD LORD THESE ARE SO PERFECT?? THANK YOU I LOVE THESE. SO MUCH rotates this in my mind forever

#submission #save #<- so I can look at this later HEHE #faith game #faith the unholy trinity #gary miller #john ward #amy martin #father garcia #lisa pearson #miriam bell #john loves you au

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theoddcatlady · 5 months

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Mr. Ferguson

I think the whole street breathed a sigh of relief when we saw the EMTs take a body bag out of the Ferguson house. I was only about ten or eleven at the time and it’s been a while so some details of my childhood are lost to time, but I can’t forget Mr. Ferguson.

There was never a Mrs. Ferguson in the picture, as far as I know. He lived in the house on the corner, the one with the bright yellow shutters and the gorgeous garden out back. The garden didn’t make up for the rotten old bastard he was. I wondered once if he was nicer when he was younger, when he didn’t have to walk with a cane and could actually get around without help, but my dad set me straight on that one. Mr. Ferguson had always been a terrible person and the neighbor from hell.

All day long, Mr. Ferguson would sit on his front porch in his rocking hair, grasping onto his black cane as he stared out on the street. If someone walking their dog even got close to his yard, he’d start spewing threats about what he’d do if the dog took a shit on his lawn. If a kid put even a toe on his property, he’d get up from that chair and start shouting more terrible things. I learned my first cuss words from Mr. Ferguson, he didn’t censor his language even among the smallest of ears. And he wasn’t all talk. One of my friend’s dogs wandered into the Ferguson yard, just sniffing around as beagles do, and Mr. Ferguson beat that dog bloody. The poor thing had anxiety for the rest of its life and if you so much as passed the Ferguson house with it the dog would lose its mind.

Other than him, our neighborhood was a friendly place. Summers were full of cook outs and pool parties, winters had Secret Santa gift exchanges and someone was always willing to help shovel out your driveway. You’d never be hard pressed to find a babysitter on short notice, odds are your friend had a teenage daughter willing to make a few bucks to make sure the kids were on bed in time.

But not Mr. Ferguson. People did try to bring him in on the fun sometimes. He’d scoff and tell them to leave him alone in no uncertain terms. Mom said he just wanted to be miserable. I didn’t understand how someone could want that and well, I still don’t.

One hot summer morning though, his caretaker came in to do a check and found him in his garden, dead as a door nail. Probably a stroke or a heart attack.

My mom made us go to the funeral. I don’t know why, she probably hated Mr. Ferguson the most and we were like one of five people that went. One of those people was the priest. At least it was short, the priest just said a few words about how we should treasure our lives and be good to others and then Mr. Ferguson was chucked into the ground.

That was that… or so I thought.

The accidents started happening just a week later.

I was at my friend Michael’s house, we were playing board games when we heard the crash. It was so loud it shook the house and Michael dropped his soda. Root beer spilled onto the carpet as we tried to figure out what that sound was for a second.

Then we heard his dad screaming bloody murder.

Forgetting completely about the spilled soda, we ran out to the garage where he’d been working on changing the oil in the car.

Michael’s dad was pinned by the car against the garage door, face white as a sheet as his head lolled to the side. I saw blood splattered against the off gray color of the metal and I puked while Michael ran inside to call 911.

It was luck that he survived. He never walked again and health issues plagued him for the rest of his life, but for a guy crushed by a car that’s probably best case scenario.

It was an accident, sure, but a weird one. The car just suddenly launched forward as Michael’s dad stood in front of it. But there was no one in the garage with him. So yeah. It was just an accident.

But accidents started happening more and more often.

The next one was at the final pool party of the season. We were all at the Benson house because they’d just gotten a brand new hot tub. There was probably like twelve kids running around, the sun was shining, the barbecue was sizzling. I had just gotten out of the pool to grab a lemonade and was chatting with Annie when I heard the pop.

Mrs. Benson and her friends had been relaxing in the hot tub, making jokes and laughing until the pop. Their bodies suddenly went rigid before they began rapidly jerking about and twitching. Mr. Benson shouted if she was all right and I heard this gurgled yell before Mrs. Benson went under.

The kids stampeded out of the pool and I smelled something burning before I realized that the hot tub was on fire.

Mrs. Benson and her sister ended up dying on the way to the hospital. The other woman ended up surviving but not without some serious electrical burns. Electrocution via hot tub. Just an accident. But there was one more accident we all missed until we returned to the pool to see a little body floating at the top. Three year old Maggie had fallen in during the chaos and drowned.

Mr. Benson moved away after that. Losing both his wife and youngest child in that house just killed something inside of him. But after he moved away, we all saw it happen.

His backyard became overgrown by plants. Not over a few weeks, like what happens when a house is uninhabited and there’s no one to mow the lawn. The very day after they’d left that house the backyard was now filled with dandelions, daffodils, lilies. and all sorts of flowers that shouldn’t naturally appear in the late summer.

It was like a garden.

Accidents happen, sure. But not like this. Not when a guy who’s been working home improvement his entire life ends up toppling from a ladder and breaking his spine. Not when a mom trips and falls face first into the open dishwasher and ends up getting impaled on a knife. Not when a toddler was left alone for just a few seconds and ends up nearly drowning in the bathtub.

Dogs ran into the road and ended up getting hit by cars. Kids fell from their bunk beds and cracked their heads like eggshells on their dressers. Teenagers got into fatal car wrecks. It was a mess.

Two other families ended up leaving our neighborhood and their yards had the same fate as the Benson’s- completely grown over. A morbid beauty.

Fall came and the yards grew brown but the gardens seemed to be even greener. The whispers started about a ghost. A ghost that was such a miserable old bastard in life and was now a nasty poltergeist in death.

Mr. Ferguson had never left our neighborhood.

It all came to a head when a tree was struck by lightning and a large tree limb crashed into our living room. I’d just tripped while picking up my things and suddenly the roof caved in above me. I was lucky I was on the ground. If I’d been standing, well, I’d probably not be telling you this story.

Two nights later my mom woke me up. She looked grim.

“Come on. We’re going to see Mr. Ferguson.”

When we walked out of the house, I saw everyone on our street was out. Everyone had this same grim look on their face. The deaths, the mutilation, it’d forever tarnished our street and we’d all had enough. We walked down the street, I saw several guys walk into Mr. Ferguson’s house with mallets and chainsaws, but we kept going with a few of the others. I saw that several of the adults were carrying shovels and containers of lighter fluid.

We walked into the graveyard and my mom led them right to Mr. Ferguson’s grave. She took a deep breath.

“… Start digging.”

It was the frantic endeavors of people who believed they were cursed. Dirt flew in the air and nearly pelted me in the head a few times. I hid behind my mom, who just stood there stone faced.

Even now the accidents weren’t over. A man tripped in the hole and his leg snapped like a twig. He wailed as he was dragged away by a few others before they got right back to digging. Someone else got smacked the face with a shovel and blood coursed down his face from his nose as he just kept on digging.

Finally the coffin was reached, the lid cracked open. Mr. Ferguson’s body laid inside. He didn’t even look dead, it was like he was just taking a nap.

Then they started pouring the lighter fluid in. It covered the corpse’s skin, his clothes. They probably added more than necessary. My mom struck the match and threw it in, shielding me from the sudden burst of flames.

I didn’t get to see the body, but I swore I heard that old man’s yelling as his body burned.

It was over after all that. The gardens were all dead by morning. The accidents stopped. And although we’d lost so many of our friends over the past year, we recovered. New neighbors moved in. We welcomed them into our fold. One or two asked about the property on the corner, the one that looked like a tornado hit it, and we’d just say it was vandals. They stopped asking. We never talked about what we did to Mr. Ferguson’s body. And soon we just stopped thinking about it.

I grew up on that street. Even now I only live a few blocks away. And for so long I wondered why our family was practically the only one untouched by the tragedy. We never got hurt, even when the tree branch came crashing into our living room.

I think I found out the answer. See, my mom passed away a few months ago from breast cancer and I’ve been going through her things. She’s always been such a good, kind woman and it was great seeing pictures of her helping plant the garden behind the church and teaching at the local school.

But in the bottom of the box, hidden under dozens of other albums, was a picture from when she married my dad. Unlike the family picture with the groom, all it was was my mom and an older man. I didn’t recognize him until I flipped the picture over.

On the back was written ‘Pauline Walters (P. Ferguson) and The Father of the Bride.’

#my stories

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blissfulalchemist · 1 year

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🎂: Has your OC have any contradictory interests or traits to the first preception people have of the? How do they surprise people?

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to you OC?

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

🍫: Where does your OC go to think?

for Aria

Ahhh! Thank you! I love my little Aria so much.

🎂: Has your OC have any contradictory interests or traits to the first preception people have of them? How do they surprise people?

With Aria it tends to be the fact that her bluntness when correcting people isn’t from a place of thinking she’s better or smarter than you (even if it is objectively true), it comes from a place of wanting to make sure you know things correctly so someone that has those notions doesn’t prey on you. She likes to give people the benefit of the doubt and has a care that is deep and genuine. Many times people don’t take the time to get past this initial bluntness leaving Aria lonely and with a cold hearted bitch reputation. It doesn’t help that she doesn’t like to beat around the bush and get to the heart of the matter or doesn’t always think before speaking. It’s far from the truth, unless its deserved, and she thankfully has people like Nate and her best friend Claudia to go to bat for her when people can’t get past that initial bluntness.

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to you OC?

If you were to look at Aria’s little green house you would find that it’s all sentimental. There’s photos, trinkets, memories, and plants even that have been there since she first moved in. She’s quite sad to let it go once she and Nate adopt Sammy (Yes his brother thinks they named him after him. No that is not the case and simply coincidence). It’s like ending a book when she looks back on the now empty rooms and walls she knows will be painted over as in a way it was the start of it all. This was the place where the rollercoaster of a relationship with Nate began and her first place of her own.

If you want a more physical item then you look to the Kyanite crystal necklace she wears as a good luck charm sort of. It’s not the same one from childhood but the crystal itself is what’s important as on a trip with her parents for research they were looking for hours for any indication of a formation that would be proceeded by kyanite crystals. Her being a small child picked up anything shiny or colorful and happened to find exactly what they were looking for! She got so much praise and since then it was something of good luck.

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

You mean beside the thievery, breaking and entering, trespassing, and destruction of property both historic and non? It would be along the lines of disturbing the peace or protesting without permission. Given her proximity to Reservations growing up Aria knows the privilege and power she wields and uses what she can to give indigenous people a stage and microphone to enact the change needed.

🍫: Where does your OC go to think?

Aria likes to go to bigger botanical gardens or places that give that kind of feel. There’s just something about wandering in a place you can get lost and just rest and still see something beautiful. The Huntington Library is a favorite and was visted often.

#aria dawson oc #aria chara ask #I miss her so much and I love thinkin about her

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bowieandqueen11 · 4 years

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Luke Crain Headcanons

Request: Hi🥺I’m usually not to good about making request but I’m trying to breakout of my shell on that cause you are an amazing writer and I love everything you write!! But can I request a Luke Crain headcanon where you guys grew up together but distanced while he was in rehab but you came back together after what happened with Nellie! Thank you so much you’re an angel🥺💛

Thank you SO much @cathrinexxxv I LOVE LUKE CRAIN! Also I’m so ready to binge watch all of Bly Manor tomorrow!! <3

You and Luke first met when you were very young. As in, really really little. To this day, you’re still constantly teasing him and making him blush smile about his huge magnifying pair of glasses and his obsession with bowler hats.

You and your family used to live in the small village which was a fifteen minute walk away from the looming heights of Hill House, so when a rumour started spreading down the houses that a new family full of children were moving in for the summer, you, naturally, were intrigued.

One night, when you had heard from your mother that the new family had moved in, you sneaked out your back garden on a warm afternoon before dinner, cutting through the dark and dingy forest until you reached the outskirts of the property. Seeing a boy around your own age sitting on his own on the burnt grass, you waved to Luke from behind the branch of a nearby, crooked oak tree. He was startled, to say the least, but as he watched you hide slightly behind the bark, he was surprised to find he wasn’t scared in the slightest.

He felt as if he almost knew you already. As if this was always meant to happen, that you were meant to find each other here.

Nudging his glasses back up the bridge of the nose, he shyly waved back. Once he finally realised that you weren’t going to budge from your hiding place, nervous from the stories your neighbours had told you about this house, he decided to pick up his crayons in one fist and his paper in the other, before he sets off half stumbling, half stomping along the uneven ground towards you.

When he finally reaches the trunk, he stops and looks at you kind of funnily, tilting his head slightly before he decides the right reaction was to smile at you.

‘My name is Luke Crain. Do you want to play with me? All my siblings ignore me and they don’t want to draw with me.’

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon huddled under the shaking leaves, sitting on the roots of the tree, Luke tracing out a picture and you giggling as you tried to bump his hand out of the way to colour it in.

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. Nellie loved you of course, and saw you as her honorary best friend as well, as did the rest of the siblings (even though Shirley would never admit it, and Theo was too stubborn to), which meant constant sleepovers at Hill House.

Hugh would always chuckle and shake his head when he peeked into Luke and Nellie’s room, seeing Nell asleep on a red bean bag with a half open bag of sweets lying deserted by her feet, and you and Luke sprawled out on the mat by the iron railings of his bed, snoring.

You were also the only one he allowed up into his treehouse. Although, sometimes he was too embarrassed to let you, or his siblings, in, because he had stuck pictures up on the wall of the drawings he had tried to do of you.

Growing up with Luke also meant having to calm him down after he starts seeing the tall, floating ghost. Sometimes you would try to climb up the ivy outside of his bedroom window, only to topple into the house headfirst when you start to hear Luke’s high pitched screaming coming from under his bed. Although Olivia would come running in, she would always end up comforting sobbing Nellie, as Luke would only grab onto you, the two of you sitting on the edge of his bed as you remind him the rule.

‘Breathe in and out Luke, that’s it. In and out, seven times - that’s what keeps you safe.’

‘Eight’, he would say with a trembling breath. ‘Eight times. You’re my family too.’

The two of you were gutted when Luke had to move away, but your parents could already see how close the two of you were, and so decided that a move away and a new school for you, perhaps, wasn’t the worst idea. Especially, they decided, since you had been there that night as well.

Although the two of you were close for the whole of your childhood, it takes Luke until he’s eighteen years old to realise just how long he’s really been in love with you. It takes some nudging on from Nellie, pointing out how you would run up to his locker during breaks between classes and just fill him in on how your day was going - each break, no matter how long it had been, without fail. Luke was the only person you wanted to talk to, and from the look of pure delight on Luke’s face as he leans against his locker door and gives his full, undivided attention to you, you’re the only person he wants to listen to.

Or how, Nellie would continue, you would come round to their house for dinner, and although Aunt Janet tried to separate the two of you by sitting you opposite each other, you would just spend the whole dinner ignoring whatever Theo was talking about and giving each other funny looks as you kicked each other in the shin.

Or, when the two of you got a bit older, and you would sneak out of your dorm to visit him in the middle of the night, throwing little rocks at his window until his curtains would rustle and the window latch would be thrown open, his grinning face peering down at you. Despite having spent the whole weekend together, reading to each other in the town’s local library, or just lying shoulder to shoulder watching movies, the two of you would sit out in his garden, on the dewy grass, constantly craving each other’s company. You made him blush one night, when you suddenly grabbed his hand and intertwined his growing fingers over your smaller ones, pointing up at the moon, and the glowing stars, not realising the little side eye, euphoric look he would give you.

That’s when he finally realised how immensely, and terrifyingly in love with you he was.

It scared him, to realise this, but deep down he knew it had always been you.

He has so many nightmares though. So many nights are spent with his head lying heavy in your lap, as you brush through his golden hair, trying to shush him and calm him down, or rocking him as he cries into your shoulder because of the nightmares he has about his mother, or about Abigail.

As the two of you start to escape your teenage years, and the wishful chasing after each other that came with it, your relationship becomes slightly more strained when he starts using. You choose to move in with Nellie for a while, once he finally goes to rehab. When she gets married, and you're forced to find somewhere new to live, you think you'll never hear from the Crains again - you get the odd visit from Nell, or Theo, but they're so busy enjoying the newly wed life, or studying for their degree that it's not enough - nothing fills the hole that comes from missing Luke.

It hurts that he never comes to see you, but little did you know that he used to sit at his little beige desk every night, underneath the barred window, just staring up at the moon as he bit on the edge of his pen, a feeling of such wistfulness and loneliness and longing weighing down his chest.

He used to write you a letter, every day, just pouring out all the feelings he was too afraid to tell you, but he always crumples them up and throws them away, too scared to send them.

When Steve phones you up to tell you the news about Nellie’s passing, you told him to immediately come and pick you up.

You're terrified when you open the door and walk out into the bone chilling night to hug him, your heart thumping in your chest when he tells you about how Luke has left rehab again and is somewhere out on the streets, probably using. It breaks your heart, but you know you have to be the one to find him, to bring him back.

When you reach him, and see the man you've loved since you were a child wandering, shoeless and shivering along the freezing, cracked pavement, muttering to himself, you can’t help a tear slip out as you unbuckle your seatbelt and hop out of Steve’s rental.

Luke is so terrified, he doesnt recognise you for a second. It’s only a second, though, before his eyes widen and he pounces on you, wrapping you into him so familiarly, his frame looming large above you but yet feels so fragile in your grasp as he buries his head into the side of your neck and starts crying.

‘I’m so, so cold, Y/n, and my arms are s-s-so stiff, and I’m s-so sorry, I’m so sorry-’

You can’t bear to tell him the news, so you just hold the nape of his neck and pull him tight against your chest, hating the way his whole body shakes in your hold.

On the day of Nell’s funeral, he doesn't leave your side once - it’s as if the two of you had never been separated at all. As everyone files in through the main door, ignoring the sour face on Shirley as they wander into the reception area, you and Luke just sit knee to knee on the couch opposite the entryway.

‘I tried to write to you,’ he starts, as he fumbles a cigarette from out of his breast pocket and tucks it away behind his ear, trying to busy himself with anything so he doesn’t have to meet your confused eyes, and so you don’t have to see the guilt ridden in his. ‘I want you to know that. Nellie kept on telling me off, but i just didn't know how to say what i needed to say to you.’

‘Luke, its okay, i understand how difficult it was for you-’

‘No-no, Y/n, no more excuses! You mean so much to me and i- i cant... i can't lose anyone else. Just-’

He's so gentle when he finally reaches over and kisses you, trying to shake off his fear and just show you what he meant instead. His suit rumples against your chest as he smooshes himself against you, cupping your cheeks softly with his large hands as he tilts you to the side to meet him in a needy, a desperate, a long anticipated kiss.

He doesn’t pull away - he can't - until you finally break for air, and only then does he finally concede and places his forehead against yours with a soft thud, just closing his eyes in both agony and bliss.

‘I’m sorry that took me so long to do.’

‘It was worth the wait. Although, I have to be honest, your timing has always been rubbish.’

He chuckles, his deep voice vibrating against your chest as he rests his head on your shoulder like a lost puppy, gazing up at you with those wide, lost eyes, and for the first time you can finally see the adoration and awe and just pure love that’s always been in them.

For the rest of the reception. before he tells you of his plans to go back and burn Hill House to the ground, is spent with the two of you escaping from his siblings by stepping outside and sitting on Shirley’s porch. Your arms stay linked tightly together, as if afraid to let go again, and his coat is wrapped around both of your shoulders as he rests against you, just content to be surrounded by your presence.

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lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers · 3 years

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A rather tongue in cheek look at the British class system.

This post started life as an answer to an ask “how do you know which class you are?”- which is an interesting ask to receive, as I always thought most people in the UK had a strong sense of the class system and their place within it.

In the UK, class extends beyond economic factors and each social class tends to have their own, identifiable culture. This culture is, or can be inherited, and it means that people can sometimes identify as a class that doesn't match up with their current apparent economic circumstances.

Apart from the fact I find this personally very interesting, I do think it’s important to examine the class system in the UK. Classism is a very real phenomenon, which exists, for starters. class definitions are difficult and vary with culture and historical moment, but I'll attempt to lay out some key characteristics from my cultural perspective.

The aim of this analysis is not to offend (although it is, at times, to amuse), nor to present one class as “better” than the others.

Lower- Working class: Your family have traditionally working in non-professional jobs, such as manufacturing, service/hospitality roles, other “unskilled” jobs. Work was likely insecure (especially post Thatcher) and there were periods of being out of work and relying on benefits. Historically, working class people would have lived in council houses or “tied accommodation” but increasingly, they live in insecure rentals. At times, outgoings will have exceeded the money coming in, and there may have been periods where your family needed to rely reselling goods or unconventional sources of credit in order to make ends meet. Increasingly, even in work families are sometimes relying on foodbanks. You/ your family are less likely to drive and own a car. When you were young, it’s likely that you were informally cared for by relatives, or your parents worked opposite shifts to cover childcare.

You speak with a regional accent- it might be pretty strong and you use regional dialect. You eat “tea” in the evening and “dinner” at around midday. A lot of the men in your family follow a local football team, and likely attend games. They might have a bet on the horses, but are unlikely to actually go to the races. Growing up, you might have gone to the park for a kick about with your mates, but you are less likely to have been part of an official team or organised hobby.

You may well care about your appearance, but you’re likely to do things like dye your hair at home, rather than go to a salon. Your clothes are sometimes second hand, but this isn’t through choice. It’s likely you have some clothes or outfits you consider “best”. You may have piercings or tattoos and care less about appearing “conventional”. When you go out, you probably go to a local pub which some people might consider “rough”, but you also sometimes go out clubbing.

You might be close to your family, and the community you grew up in, but it’s also very possible that these relationships are somewhat strained for various reasons. Celebrations such as Christmas (if you celebrate it) and birthdays were important to your family and your parents might have gone a bit overboard with this, even (especially) if they couldn’t afford it.

At some point in your life, you’ve used the word “scab” as an insult- even if you didn’t know what it meant.

Upper-Working class: Your family have traditionally worked in skilled trades, or regular “non-professional” employment such as manufacturing. You might also have relatives in the army or in the police force. These days, they might be self employed, but they would be less likely to employ someone else. There are varying degrees of financial comfort, and these days, your family may own their own home but you’re not “wealthy”. It’s unlikely your family have assets or investments beyond one property and cars. If you’re younger than about 35, you or your siblings might have gone to university, but no-one in your parents’ generation has. Your parents probably have a degree of debt beyond a mortgage (if they have one). You probably spent time in childcare when you were young because your parents had to work. If your parents have a mortgage, they are potentially overstretched by it and concerned about how they will pay it off before retirement.

You probably speak with a regional accent and use dialect words. You also use words like serviette, dessert, pardon etc. Someone in your family is really into football but they are more likely to support a team in the premiership and watch games on TV rather than going to matches- if they are into rugby then it’s rugby league unless you’re from Wales or Cornwall. You probably learned to ride a bike as a child, and it may have been your main mode of transport as a teenager. You’re more likely to do a hobby as part of some kind of formal group or club, but it’s unlikely to be one that requires a lot of expensive equipment.

You/your female relatives are probably quite house-proud and take a lot of care over their appearances. There’s probably time spent fake tanning and getting nails done. You’ve probably got a feature wall somewhere in your house. You might have your own distinct sense of style and belong to a “sub-culture” but if you have tattoos, they’re likely to be well planned and/or relatively easily hidden. When you go out, you probably go out clubbing, but you probably have a “local” too.

Family and community are important to you- it’s likely you haven’t moved that far from where you grew up (unless you were really desperate for work). It’s possible the area where you grew up is pretty deprived, although it may be increasingly a victim of gentrification, depending on where you are from.

You know someone who bought their house via “right-to-buy” and thinks this makes them middle class.

Middle Class: Your family have traditionally worked in more professional jobs. These may not require a degree (especially historically), but we are talking things like accountant, lawyer, doctor, teacher, civil servant etc. They earned a salary rather than being paid by the hour. Some degree of their assets were probably inherited, and they may have some investments e.g. shares or a buy to let property, but this isn’t the whole of their income (unless they are retired and have a decent pension too).

Your parents owned their own home, and are/will be mortgage free by the time they retire. You probably had regular foreign holidays growing up. Your parents are likely to save up for big ticket items, rather than get into debt. You’re not the first generation in your family where people went to university. It’s very likely you had a stay at home parent for part of your childhood.

If you speak with a regional accent, it’s probably not very strong, and it’s likely you don’t use a lot of regional dialect words. You call your midday meal lunch, and your evening meal dinner. If you go to the pub to watch a sports match, it’s more likely to be the six nations than a football game. But it’s equally likely you aren’t into sport at all. Your parents probably made you get swimming and music lessons growing up, and you may well have a hobby- possibly one that requires a bit of financial investment on your part.

You like to think you have a sense of style, but you don’t like to look like you are “trying too hard”. You might be especially into a certain genre of music or films. You may make a nod to subculture in the way you dress, but if you’re older than a teenager, you probably dress in a relatively “conventional” way. You go out to bars, or chain/mid-priced restaurants, although you might also go to a pub for a meal or if there was music on.

Your family probably don’t all live in the same place, and you may only see them relatively rarely. It’s likely your parents have friends from uni or NCT classes who to some extent take the place of family in your life. You may not have a strong sense of community and it’s very possible that if your parents live rurally, you might have moved to the city for work. You’re probably not very religious.

At some point in your life, you have sneered at someone for being a “chav”.

Upper-middle Class: Your parents are pretty wealthy and almost definitely went to university. You went to a well known university. They likely went to private school and you probably did too (although not a super famous one). If you didn’t go to private school, you went to a grammar school, church school or the most sought after “comp” in the county (your parents probably moved house to get you in). Someone in your extended family owns a second home, or at least a really nice house in the country. You/your parents almost definitely have inherited wealth and assets, as well. You/your parents may just work in a well paid job, but they may also own a medium to large size company. You probably had multiple holidays abroad each year (and it’s very likely you went skiing). If one of your parents’ cars broke down, it would have been very easy for them to replace it, without needing to save up or get into debt, but you don’t have any fear of debt, either. It’s very likely you can get a job through “connections”. It’s likely they employed a cleaner and possibly a gardener, and maybe au-pair or nanny as well.

You speak with an RP accent, and you might have “pudding” after your “supper”. It’s very likely you play a team sport of some kind, probably rugby, cricket, hockey or maybe lacrosse. You might row, or ride horses, or sail. You’ve always been able to do whatever expensive hobby you like, and money has never been a barrier to progressing. You may well shop in charity shops, and brag about the bargains you find there. You may drive an “old” car, but it’s probably a 4x4, genuinely vintage, or quirky in some other way. You have inherited jewellery and possibly some home furnishings. If you’re talented in some way, (sport or artistic) you were probably given every opportunity to persue this.

Networking is important to you and you feel part of a community. You’re probably quite socially confident. It’s likely you know some of the people you work with socially as well. You probably expect to live a reasonably traditional lifestyle, and you’re less likely to be part of a “sub-culture” (unless you’re making a career as an actor or a musician). You probably observe religious festivals, but you don’t go regularly to a place of worship. You avoid chain restaurants, but you like to go to the village pub.

On some level, you probably think “poor” people bring it on themselves through poor decision making.

Upper Class: Historically, your family were rich enough not to have to work for a living, and someone in your extended family owns a very large amount of land. You’re related to someone with a title. You went to a well known private school and you may have boarded. It’s likely your family own multiple properties- some are rented out and some you live in. Some or all of these were inherited, rather than bought. You may have a “private income” of some kind. Your family may have had to “diversify” in recent years, and you may actually be working more than your ancestors did. You might have gone to a well known university, or you might have gone to somewhere like RAU. Your family own multiple cars, and one of them is probably a 4x4. It’s likely your family employed “staff”. At some point since the second world war, your family may well have had to sell off property etc- but your money worries are “how do we avoid selling off land” not “how do we afford to replace the washing machine”.

You talk like you are from the 1940s, and everyone you know has a stupid sounding nickname. You use your own form of impenetrable slang- probably specific to whatever school you went to. You’ve probably been hunting and you know someone who plays polo. You go to events like Royal Ascot, Henley Regatta, the Boat Race and Goodwood etc. You ski. You’ve been on multiple long haul holidays, and you probably went on a “Gap Yah”.

Everyone you know knows everyone else you know and you’re suspicious of people who you don’t have acquaintances in common with. You’ll get married, in a church (you are CofE and white) and having children is fairly important to you. You’re probably involved with some kind of charity work.

You pride yourself on not being a snob, because you got on well with the people you met in Africa, but you’ve never actually spoken to someone who grew up in a council house.

#uk politics #the class system #uk culture #british culture #working class #middle class #upper class #class analysis #please don't take this too seriously

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princessfbi · 3 years

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Ok I have got to know what happened with Oliver's character on that one show that makes you rage so hard every time you see him.

WELL NONNIE I'LL TELL YOU!

This is a warning for spoilers if anyone wants to watch this show because my rage cannot be contained.

OK SO...

This show is called Into the Badlands and Oliver's character is named Ryder. Basically the premise of this world is that it's kind of post apocalyptic/alternative universe where humanity got so caught up in trying to one up each other that it sort of imploded and now you have this society where either you're super wealthy (the Barrons), super poor (Cogs and Nomads), or somehow a ninja (The Clippers and whatever the hell MK was supposed to be). ANYWAYS....

Ryder is the son of Barron Quinn. Now the surviving land is either divided into like factions run by Barrons (who control a majority of major trade) or there's these lawless lands that are run dredges of society. You either become a Barron by killing another Barron (which is what Quinn did) or you are an heir apparent. Ryder is more an heir presumptive because Quinn won't outright name him his heir even though everyone just assumes it.

This is because Quinn is batshit crazy and thinks he can just live forever through sheer stubbornness and will alone. This is especially hard to do because he has a massive brain tumor that's dwindling down what little bit of sanity he has leading him to make questionable choices such as killing the only doctor they have in the lands who would've been useful pretty much for the rest of the series but go off Quinn. Ryder has a lot of resentment towards his father, which I will get into in a minute, and at the same time has gone out of his way to prove to Quinn that he's a worthy heir. Except Quinn keeps comparing Ryder to his second and regent, Sunny, and he's just all around a shitty person in general.

NOW HERE'S THE AMAZING BACKSTORY WITH RYDER:

So, when Ryder was a child, he was kidnapped by these nomads who were trying to blackmail Quinn. Ryder's mother begged Quinn to pay the ransom and save Ryder. Quinn... refused. So the nomads tortured Ryder and (Gross warning) like cut off part of his toes and disfigured his foot in the hopes of crippling him and scaring Quinn into giving to their demands.

Quinn, again, refused.

Eventually Quinn's regent at the time, Waldo, defies Quinn's orders and goes to rescue Ryder from these nomads. Waldo defying Quinn is a big deal because he's a clipper which is basically a soldier (often brought in from the slave faction called Cogs) and they take their oaths to their Barrons very seriously. Barrons trust no one but their regents because again you can become a Barron by killing them. But Waldo always had a soft spot for Ryder.

SO Ryder is saved and eventually nursed back to health but he always has a bit of a tragedy cloud hanging around him because from what we were told Ryder was a very sweet, bright child before he was kidnapped and was brought back as "a broken bird" and he's been doing everything he can to get rid of the broken bird image ever since.

Quinn resented Ryder for making him look weak and Ryder resented Quinn for... Well being a heartless dick.

But here's the crazy part... They both, in their own way, still kind of loved each other.

Now I won't bore you with my rant about how the best antagonists are often the tragic figures who have fallen from grace (Peter Hale, Draco Malfoy, Loki to name a few) BUT I will say Ryder had the PERFECT foundation of showing that fall. He was an asshole and hard and spoiled and super privilege but also soft and still a little broken. There's a whole other narrative involved too with his childhood love and how his dad planned on marrying her but we won't get into that.

ANYWAYS Ryder still had this desperate need to prove to his dad that he was a worthy heir but in his attempts to prove himself (and his dad's fall into madness) his dad started seeing him as competition. Competition and another objects (like Quinn saw with most other characters but especially Sunny). But Quinn has this weird kind of pride when it comes to things that he considers his and an attack on his property is an attack on him. There's a character named the Widow who lured Ryder out and tried to kill him slowly and personally as well as Sunny as an attack on Quinn and he went bananas (sorta).

Ryder was fine eventually but he realized that trying to prove himself to his dad was never going to work so he decides to try the other option: which is killing his dad. Partially because if he doesn't, Ryder is smart enough to know that Quinn's going to get him killed, but also because Quinn's descent into madness is spiraling faster and faster and Ryder wants to protect the legacy. Nothing to inherit if his dad burns the whole thing to the ground!

Long story short, Sunny turns on Quinn and stabs him and everyone thinks Quinn is dead and Ryder takes credit for it therefore succeeding his dad by becoming not only Barron of his father's lands but some other Barron that got murdered by another subplot that was pointless.

Now Ryder is determined to bring peace to the lands (not out of some noble obligation but because he just wants people to chill the fuck out). And for the most part... he's doing okay.

BUT THEN PLOT TWIST HIS DAD IS ALIVE AND CRAZIER THAN EVER.

Basically his dad storms Ryder's house, chases him down in the garden, and they fight. But Ryder's foot that was crippled when he was a child trips him up and the fight gets even messier. Ryder's sword breaks and Quinn points the sword to his own chest and tells Ryder to finish him.

Ryder hesitates and so Quinn takes the sword and stabs Ryder. You know like a rational father would do.

Quinn then asks Ryder why he hesitated and Ryder whispers "because you're my father" before he dies in Quinn's arms. Quinn is... horrified because he realizes that with the death of Ryder is the death of the last parts of his own humanity. He mourns Ryder but also like... takes no responsibility for killing him but neither did Ryder so he can't process it. Later on he's haunted by Ryder but again the man has a giant grapefruit sized tumor in his brain so it's all very reverse Hamlet if you will.

SO LOOK AT ALL THIS POTENTIAL!

THE REASON I RAGE:

Is because Ryder was set up to fail from the beginning. Which is great!....... If that had actually happened. The show worked so hard to tell us that Ryder was a failure and a coward but if you look at it from a story perspective... Ryder was the opposite of a failure. Every time someone told him he couldn't do something, he proved them wrong. Again and again and again. But that was never good enough for anyone. So that vicious cycle would've been amazing to see!

But instead of exploring any of that, we had to watch a storyline that was frankly ridiculous from the beginning that took up way more time than it should. There's a character named MK, who was supposed to be inspired by the myth The Monkey King, but if you don't know that story then you never would've figured that out. Hell, I knew the story and didn't figure it out until I had to google his name because I kept forgetting it. In comparison to everything else happening in the show, this magical mythical storyline just didn't fit and I'm not kidding when I say I watched a season and a half of this show and forgot about MK every time.

Now if you noticed my icon is Buck in a Box. That's an inside joke I have with a friend about this fucking show. The first scene starts off with Sunny stumbling onto a group of Nomads who go absolutely feral about this massive box they don't want him to look inside. Turns out MK was in this box for reasons that were too weak for me to even remember but again MK was entirely forgettable. My friend and I kept talking about how it would've been better if Ryder had been in the box because the Ryder and Sunny rivalry had so much unexplored potential that would've been incredible if we started from the very beginning instead of just being told over and over again that Ryder hates being compared to Sunny.

Sunny is the main character and Quinn, unlike with Ryder, was incredibly proud to have Sunny "in his possession" and Ryder hated him for it.

But did we get to explore that? NO! Did we get to explore the parallels of Sunny and Ryder chafing at being considered possessions by Quinn? NO! Did we get to explore the trauma Ryder was working so hard to shake off? NO!

Instead the show spent so much energy victim blaming Ryder essentially for being the son of a Villain and his Nonsensical Ambitious Mother who had the misfortune of being kidnapped by bandits as a child while telling the audience that Ryder was never going to succeed. That Ryder had no honor and was a coward and weak.

They spent way more time trying to tell us that we should hate Ryder and that he was a bad guy but didn't do ANY of the work to show the fall from grace to prove that. Ryder remained a tragic figure that didn't fall from grace but was rather pushed off by lazy writing because they wanted to focus again on this magical ninja boy with a penchant for getting in the way and ruining everything.

I rage because Antagonist and Villain are not the same thing. Ryder had the potential of becoming a villain and his death by the hands of his father would've cycled him back into the role of a tragic figure. But instead... it was just wasted.

THAT is why I rage. You had the material right there and yet you spent so long telling us that we, the audience, don't like Ryder instead of showing us anything that would make us not like him (besides the whiny white boy thing).

Instead I found myself rooting for Ryder. Like could you imagine if Ryder and Sunny went against Quinn together instead of having the weakest rivalry known to man? Could you imagine Ryder's fall from grace of wanting peace in the lands as it turned to greed? Could you imagine Sunny becoming actual competition for Ryder instead of being manipulated to do so?

WE GOT NONE OF IT.

THIS is why I rage.

#I'm so sorry nonnie #I ranted #But you asked for it #So here it is #Oliver Stark #Ryder into the badlands #Into the badlands #anon #ask #answered

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tempobaekh · 4 years

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Till death do us apart

･:*:･✿ Pairings: Jaehyun x reader (kind of Seonghwa as well)

･:*:･✿ Non Idol imagine

･:*:･✿ Angst (?) Fluff (?) Horror, kind of mention of a corpse, a tiny bit mention of blood.

(Side note: the original story is a creepy pasta but this one is by Snarled on YouTube the only thing I have changed here is the characters for example instead of the friend snarled has chosen I choose Seonghwa, instead of the groom I picked Jaehyun and instead of the bride I choose the reader. I hope you guys enjoy this bc it's one of my favorite creepy pastas, and make sure to check out snarled's YouTube channel)

There once was a couple, Jaehyun and Y/N, who seemed to be over the moon in love.

One of the things that brought them together was their competitive nature. They liked to push each other to be the best versions of themselves, of course all the competitiveness was friendly and well intentioned.

It sometimes meant silly little games of tag here and there or maybe some nights of hide and seek... they were both sort of adult children.

After many years they became engaged and were off to the races, competing with each other to see who can find the best venue for the best price.

But there was one point of tension in the relationship. Jaehyun was incredibly jealous of Y/N's best friend from childhood, Seonghwa, he was convinced that this so-called friend was in love with his bride-to-be and would try and sabotage the wedding by any means possible.

Y/N always had reassure him that he was over thinking things and that there was nothing to be worry about.

"You have no reason to feel this way, Seonghwa is my oldest friend. " said Y/N.

"Just tell me this," Jaehyun asked "Did you ever have feelings for him? "

Y/N paused "Yes... I have but it was years ago, please you have to understand. "

Jaehyun wasn't happy with this answer, "You have to uninvite him. "

"Are you crazy, he's my best friend. I can't uninvite him. "

"I honestly don't know if I can handle seeing him there. It's our wedding day it's supposed to be perfect. "

The couple stared at each other both silently challenging the other to give in first.

Y/N sighed, "If that's what will make you happy I'll talk to him. "

Months later the day of the wedding arrived the engaged couple had forgotten about their past arguments and were just happy that the day had come.

Y/N ended up finding the best venue for the best price, her parents large and lavish Victorian mansion.

The ceremony was going to be held outside in the gorgeous gardens and the reception would take place inside.

The guests were filling in and finding their seats while Y/N was hiding from sight near the end of the aisle.

Suddenly Jaehyun appeared next to her, "Jae you're not supposed to see me-"

"He's here, why is he here. You told me he wasn't going to come. "

"Oh my god, he's sitting in the back you literally don't have to see or speak to him."

"Well I did see him and I just can't believe you'd do this to me. "

"Really? You're gonna do this right now. "

At this point the couples voices were rising causing the guests to turn and look over at them.

"Hey, you know what will be fun. Why don't we play a game of hide and seek with all the guests, that always cheers you up and afterwards I can talk to Seonghwa again. Deal? "

Jaehyun exhaled, "I'm so sorry I know I'm being ridiculous I know that. I know he's important to you and it's not fair of me to act this way. I love you. "

Y/N pecked his lips, "I love you too, now let's play. I'll be it. "

The guests are all informed of the game of hide and seek before the ceremony and they willingly participate.

Y/N closed her eyes and began counting backwards from 50 and everyone scattered to find a hiding spot.

The property was huge so there was plenty of space. "Ready or not here I come!"

Y/N grew up in this house and knew every nook and cranny so she had no problem finding everyone... except for one person, Jaehyun the groom.

So all the other guests began to help Y/N look for him.

Y/N heard some people whisper that they thought Jaehyun might have gotten cold feet and ran away.

After they searched the entire property with no sight of Jaehyun Y/N collapsed to the floor in tears.

Seonghwa approached her, "I know this isn't what you want to hear but I think I saw Jaehyun running out the gates during the game, I mean he could be coming back but I don't know. I'm so sorry Y/N/N."(your nickname)

The wedding was clearly no longer happening so the guests returned to their cars and headed home while Seonghwa continued to comfort the bride.

" You're my best friend and I will always be here for you. Remember, " He held out his pinky finger, "Together forever. "

The bride smiled, wiped the tears from her eyes, and hooked her pinky on to Seonghwa's and said: "No matter what ever. "

Years went by Seonghwa and Y/N became closer than ever.

Memories of old crushes, resulted in casual dates which led to a surprisingly fast engagement, the wedding venue Y/N's parents Victorian mansion.

Y/N's parents felt a little strange that their daughter would want to plan a wedding at their home again but they just wanted her to be happy.

So Seonghwa, Y/N, and her parents began to clean out the manor.

Y/N went upstairs to see if she could find some tablecloths and decor to use for the wedding.

That's when she noticed a door, it wasn't there when she was a kid. "Mom was this door always here? "

Y/N shouted down the stairs to her mom who replied, "Oh we added that room a couple of years ago for extra storage. "

Y/N opened it to find a very messy and dusty room filled with boxes and furniture, in the middle of the room was a large antique trunk there was a lock with the key still inside.

Curious she turned it and hoisted the heavy lid with both hands.

Immediately a putrid stench seeped out through the open crack as new air flew in old air came out, she dropped the lid on the side and covered her nose.

She peered inside and her eyes went wide. The rotting corpse of a man, face stretched in anguish, lay battered and broken within the trunk.

There were scratch marks highlighted with dried blood on the inside of the lid, the man's skin was leathery and stiff just like the suit that hung across his gray flesh

The dusty and rumbled suit of 𝘑𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯.

Y/N heard footsteps behind her, she turned around to find Seonghwa in the door way.

"Seonghwa you said you saw him leave the property. You- you knew he was in here didn't you. "

Seonghwa continued to stare face devoid of all emotion. "Seonghwa did you do this? "

"We made a promise Y/N and I wasn't going to let anyone get in between us, don't you remember. "

He held out his pinky, "𝘛𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. "

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bytheangell · 3 years

Text

Let the Clichés Pour (Part 2, Epilogue)

(A follow-up to my Valentine’s Day fic from last year! You can find part 1 on Tumblr or AO3 here!) (Read Part Two (Epilogue) on AO3 here)

It’s the one-year anniversary of the day they met, and Magnus tells Alec that he has something special planned. Alec isn’t allowed to ask any questions, he’s simply told that they’ll be going out to dinner and to dress nice, but nothing extravagant. That alone makes Alec curious because normally for holidays or special occasions Magnus is all about extravagance… but no matter how subtly Alec tries to pry more information out of his boyfriend he eventually has to give up and wait in eager anticipation for whatever romantic surprise Magnus has planned for their Valentine’s Day anniversary.

Which Alec really doesn’t mind. He’s much more of a small, sentimental gestures kind of guy, so when it comes to nights out or proper events he’s more than happy to let Magnus take the reins. It’s one of the many ways they seem to balance one another out so perfectly.

It’s one of the many reasons Alec is head-over-heels in love with Magnus Bane.

It didn’t take long for Alec to move from casual crush to full-on infatuation once he and Magnus started dating. He quickly grew to love Magnus’ grand gestures in the form of lavish house parties, reservations at exclusive high-end restaurants, and thoroughly planned vacations, while Magnus made it very clear how affected he was by Alec’s small, usually unintentional, constant declarations of his love through thoughtful gestures like picking up little gifts from stores he passed just because they made him think of Magnus for no special reason or occasion, or reaching out to one of his chef friends to learn how to cook a favorite childhood dish Magnus mentioned once in passing.

Alec hopes that their past year together - the first of many years if he’s lucky enough - was just as wonderful for Magnus as it was for him. Magnus says that it was, that he’s lucky to have Alec in his life… but then they pull up in front of the Olive Garden, overflowing with people going out to eat for Valentine’s Day in a scene that gives Alec an instinctive jolt of dread despite having left that job six months ago, and he has to assume he’s done something to piss Magnus off because otherwise there’s no reason for them to be here, of all places.

Alec looks over to see the smirk on Magnus’ face as he puts the car into park and turns off the engine. “Magnus…” Alec says slowly, warily.

“Surprise!” Magnus says. “Now, yes, I know - you made your feelings about men who take their dates here for Valentine’s Day very clear last year. However, it’s where we met, and it’s our anniversary, and you have to admit that holds at least a little sentimentality.”

Alec’s expression softens. Magnus is right, Alec does have to admit at least that much. It has a very ‘coming full circle’ feel, as far as gestures go, to return to where they first met for their anniversary dinner.

Noticing that Magnus is still waiting for his reaction to see if Alec might flat-out refuse to leave the car, Alec finally shakes his head with a small smile. “You’re ridiculous. Let’s go in.”

“I’m ridiculous, but you love me anyway,” Magnus reminds him.

“You’re ridiculous and I love you because of it,” Alec corrects, getting out of the car and circling around to give Magnus a kiss before they walk into the busy lobby. Alec says hi to a few familiar faces he recognizes, but for the most part, everyone is too busy to spare him more than a few words while they wait for their name to be called.

Alec is surprised when, instead of being taken to a table, they’re lead over to two seats at the bar - right where Magnus sat a year ago. “You didn’t spare any details, did you?” Alec asks with a laugh.

“Well, we’re going to be eating more than just breadsticks and alfredo the bartender gives me out of sympathy,” Magnus says. “Also, if you trust me, I already have an order in to Maia for us.”

Alec raises an eyebrow. “The fact that we’re even here makes me question why I still trust you implicitly, but I do.”

Magnus practically beams. “Wonderful. I promise you won’t be disappointed. I might be aiming for sentimental tonight, but I’m not going to make you endure the fast-food equivalent of Italian food for our anniversary.” Magnus makes sure to say that low enough that no one around them can hear, but Alec’s resulting laugh is loud enough to draw a few eyes their way before he covers his mouth with his hand.

Despite Alec’s initial reservations, the night is wonderful. They chat with Maia and Jace a bit, watching them work and banter throughout the chaos, and spend the rest of the time talking and laughing and drinking. When their food arrives Alec discovers that Magnus had Maia slip the chef a request that used things the restaurant had in stock to create a steak and shrimp dish that looks like it belongs in a 5-star restaurant. By the end of their meals, which each of them finish every last bite of, it’s late enough that the crowd around them is starting to thin out. Alec thinks he catches a look-and-nod between Magnus and Maia but doesn’t question it - after the surprise of their meals, Alec assumes Magnus just has some sort of elaborate dessert arranged as well.

What Alec doesn’t expect is for Maia to return with two glasses of champagne, complete with a strawberry on the rim and something at the bottom of Alec’s glass that sends little bubbles in a constant stream to the top.

It’s a ring.

There’s a ring in his champagne glass.

Alec looks up from where his gaze locked onto the ring to see that not only is Magnus eyeing him with a nervous smile, but Maia, Jace, and a few others linger to watch Alec’s reaction.

Alec’s first thought is that it has to be a prank - that Magnus (or Maia or Jace, maybe) is just messing with him because of the day, and where they are, and that there’s no way that Magnus would seriously propose to him here, anniversary or not. But then Magnus starts to speak and Alec realizes very quickly that this is serious.

This is actually happening.

“You know, I thought about making sure we got a booth we could both sit on the same side of and make out in,” Magnus says, citing one of Alec’s frequent customer complaints from his time working here, and that’s when Alec realizes how intentional all of this is besides just being the place they met. Magnus organized all of this to intentionally make them, by technical definition, the exact sort of couple that Alec’s snarky, ranting commentary about last year first drew Magnus’ attention. And at the look of astonishment on Alec’s face, Magnus has the audacity to wink at him.

“Alexander, a year ago today you turned what I thought was the worst day of my life into what ended up being the best day of my life. Meeting you here was the start of weeks, and months, and hopefully years and years to come, of time spent full of love and laughter and warmth and all the joy you bring me, even on the days you’re grumpier than Chairman Meow.”

At this point Magnus reaches into the glass and pulls out the ring, holding it out to Alec.

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood, it would be an honor to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Alec smiles, looking from Magnus down to the ring and back up at his boyfriend again before replying. “Magnus, I love you more than anything in this world. Of course I want to marry you, and my answer will obviously be yes… but not until we’re literally anywhere but here.”

“...what?” Magnus balks.

“I refuse to get engaged here, it’s a matter of principle,” Alec says. It isn’t like he’s saying no - he’s already said it’s going to be a yes, which is the important bit of all this. They’re practically already engaged. “Look at it this way: I’m saving you years of telling new people you proposed to your husband at an Olive Garden on Valentine’s Day, you should be thanking me.”

Alec eyes Magnus carefully. He knows Magnus picked the location because of everything Alec’s said in the past, and because of their past. If he sees anything in Magnus’s reaction that says he’s going to actually be upset at the idea of not ‘officially’ being engaged until they’re back home then, of course, Alec will say yes here and now. There’s no doubt in his mind that yes, he’d do even that if it made Magnus happy. But Alec’s pretty sure he’s right in his gut reaction that the location of the proposal is a clever bit of good-natured fun more than a serious preference.

“So you’re telling me,” Magnus says, eyes wide in disbelief but not without amusement. “That if we were to leave here and walk across the parking lot to Home Depot, and I proposed there, you’d say yes.”

It’s that hint of amusement, the tick of a smile at the corners of Magnus’ lips and the fond exasperation in his tone, that tells Alec that they’re on the same page here - that they’re getting engaged, and the thrill of that inevitability outweighs the necessity of actually following through on the entire engagement happening here and now.

“I suppose that’s technically anywhere but here, so yes” Alec agrees after a thoughtful pause. When he says it he doesn’t expect Magnus to have meant it literally, but as a figurative confirmation, figuring he’d wait until they’re home or maybe stop at the nice park a few blocks down they like to frequent.

Instead, Magnus abruptly stands up from his chair.

“Alright, let’s go,” Magnus says. “We’ll be right back,” he adds to Maia, before waiting expectantly for Alec to follow.

“What?” Alec blinks.

“We’re walking across the parking lot until we’re off this property, and then I’m putting this ring on your finger. Come on, Mr. Stubborn-wood,” Magnus says, a hint of challenge to his words that tells Alec he’s waiting for him to admit that Home Depot is actually worse than Olive Garden by way of proposal locations.

Jace laughs so hard at the terrible play on Alec’s last name that he actually snorts, and Maia rolls her eyes. “Come on, Alec. I know we joke about how awful this place is-” she pauses at a pointed look from Alec. “Okay, maybe it’s more truth than joking, but still. You can’t honestly withhold your ‘yes’ until-”

Except Alec is already pushing his chair back to stand up, meeting Magnus’ playfully challenging gaze with his own. “Let’s go.”

The two of them walk out of the front door, turn to walk around the side of the building, and head behind it in the direction of the Home Depot. Neither of them say a single word about the absurdity of what they’re doing, and Alec only gives a quick glance behind to confirm his suspicion that Maia, Jace, and a small handful of others rushed out the back door of the building where people normally take smoking breaks to watch as he and Magnus cross the dark parking lot under the light of the streetlamps.

The moment they cross the obvious property line, where there’s a clear shift in pavement color as if one side’s been more recently repaved than the other, Magnus stops walking. This sprawling area of black asphalt between the two buildings is entirely empty given the time of night and there isn’t a car in sight. Not that Alec is able to look anywhere other than at Magnus as he drops to one knee and holds up the ring.

“You’re not getting the whole speech again, I hope you know,” Magnus starts. “But I will say this: Alexander Gideon Lightwood, you’re ridiculous… and I love you because of it.”

Magnus echoes Alec’s words from the car back at him, and for some reason, that’s Alec’s breaking point. He blinks away tears now, because out of all the heartfelt things they say to one another it’s those little moments, the ones where they’re so unapologetically themselves that it only causes their love for each other to grow, that solidifies that this is it for Alec. That Magnus is it for him.

“Will you marry me?” Magnus asks, for the second time that night, and this time Alec nods without hesitation.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, yes, yes.”

As Alec repeats the word Magnus reaches out and slides the ring onto Alec’s finger before straightening his legs to stand again. The moment he’s upright Alec wraps his arms around Magnus and pulls him in for a kiss that he hopes conveys even half of the abundance of love he feels in that moment. They kiss to the faint sound of cheers and applause from across the parking lot, with Jace’s whooping yells ringing out the loudest.

“Maia’s never going to let me hear the end of this,” Alec says once they pull apart, as they start the walk back to the restaurant.

“Maia?” Magnus says, sounding incredulous. “I’m never going to let you hear the end of this. I cannot believe you made me propose twice. Once in a parking lot.”

Magnus huffs out a laugh that matches his tone of incredulity, and Alec laughs along with him, gaze falling to the engagement band on the hand he holds up in front of him to admire as they walk.

“Worth it,” Alec says, smirking and shooting Magnus a wink.

“Yes, you are, darling,” Magnus says.

Alec doesn’t have a clever retort to that. He just wraps his arm around Magnus’ waist and pulls him in close as they walk back inside to share their first drink as fiancés.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #human AU #shadowhunters #tsc #did this need a second chapter? absolutely not #did i NEED Magnus to do this and lowkey planned on a follow-up for an entire year? absolutely #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

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captcas · 3 years

Text

Screwed (A Destiel AU)

Screwed by capthamm (Part 1 of 2)

Dean inherits the old family inn and has to move home to fix it up for selling. When the work proves to be too much, he enlists in the town's only contractor's help– his neighbor, Castiel. Dean is short on time, stuck in a hometown riddled with old flames, and falling for the man who lives next door. He's screwed.

notes: I'm halfway through season 7 and missing Mr. Castiel on my screen so this poured out. I'm almost finished but here is part one. My first ever attempt in the Supernatural fan fiction world... please be kind. Thank to my lovely beta, Luke <3 (@bawley_bug) read on ao3

At this point, Dean’s left thumb had been hit by the hammer more than any of the nails and he was regretting every single choice he ever made that led him to this exact moment.

Why the fuck did he think he was cut out for restoring an inn? Not just any inn– the inn. The one John ran before he got too old and retired, eventually– well let’s just say Dean isn’t here out of any sort of living guilt.

Dean’s not sure why he’s here.

If he breaks it down, it’s because he received a letter in the mail exactly two months after the passing of his father detailing how Lawrence would have no choice but to tear down the old inn unless someone from his family claimed it.

Sam’s not going to leave his law practice and the life he built for Jess and the twins, out in California.

Dean’s the only one left.

So, taking things extremely literally, he’s here because a bunch of lawyers told him he needed to be.

Another slam into his thumb jolts his train of thought off its tracks and convinces him to pack it up for the night. He snaps the tools back into his massive toolkit and stands back to look at the old built-in shelves he decided would probably be the easiest to tackle on his own. Nodding at the good-enough outcome, he turns to scan the rest of the main floor.

Maybe the built-ins are the only thing he’s going to be able to do alone.

Dean doesn’t like the thought of teamwork– especially not with the grumpy prick who lives next door. His neighbor stopped by the day Dean arrived because apparently it was John’s dying wish that their neighbor offer his services when his estranged son eventually showed up to fix the inn. (Leave it to his father to leave Dean feeling inadequate from the great beyond.)

“No, thank you.” “Excuse me?” “You offered, I’m declining. Debt, paid.” "As you wish, Winchester.” Even wrapped in the neighbor’s deep lumbering voice, Dean winces at his last name– it feels just as constricting as it did when he thought he’d be stuck in this town forever, “Dean.” “Whatever.”

Dean thought that’d be the last he’d see of the guy until he marched away and slammed the door just across the small garden. That house used to be for whatever innkeeper his parents had hired, but when the inn closed they rented it out to whichever soul felt like a one bedroom one bathroom home was enough to live in.

Apparently that was this asshole.

They’ve seen each other three more times since then, but never long enough to even exchange names. Dean isn’t sure why he’s keeping track– each time just as unpleasant as the first. Sure, Dean could’ve been friendlier, but warning bells rattled through him every time the neighbor’s stormy eyes met his. Dean may have sworn off unnecessary human interaction for the foreseeable future, but he’s not blind and his neighbor isn’t hard to look at.

But his life has no room for attractive neighbors with an attitude problem.

Convincing himself there must be someone else in this town who knows their way around a fixer upper, Dean heads to the Roadhouse for dinner and hopefully the name of someone else to help him get the inn fixed up enough to sell.

Walking through the front door of the restaurant-meets-dive-bar, the familiar smell hits him like a breath of fresh air. He can’t believe he held out for almost a week before eating here. The Roadhouse is one of the few places left in the town left untouched by rotten memories and painful nostalgia. Nothing but good ever happens once he crosses this threshold and it’s that fact that allows him to relax for the first time since moving back to Lawrence.

He starts to order his usual and Jo winks signaling she remembers even after all these years– Dean can’t believe she runs this on her own now. Jo always swore she’d get out of this town, break the chains of her mother’s legacy, but nevertheless here she is– here they both are.

Jo looks happy, maybe even at home– Dean? Not so much.

The plate drops in front of him and Dean catches his old friend lingering a bit. He looks up and says thank you and that was all it took to spark some small town gossip from Jo. While he didn’t come back to rekindle any old relationships– friendly or otherwise– Dean doesn’t mind her company and before he knows it he’s laughing and taking his last bite of burger. The conversation starts to die and Dean remembers why he came to town in the first place, “Oh! Jo, I meant to ask. I’m fixing up the old inn and I need help. Do you have the number of someone who–”

“Of course, Dean! Chuck retired, but Castiel took over, after Gabriel ran off to Thailand.” Dean raises his eyebrow and Jo laughs, “ That’s a story for another meal. Here,” she hands over a napkin with a number scrawled across it, ��Castiel is the best in town and will fix up that inn in no time.”

Castiel.

Dean racks his brain for any recollection of someone named Castiel from their childhood but the name doesn’t ring a bell— and a name like that definitely would ring a bell. He supposes people must move to Lawrence, just like any town, and resigns it to someone new since he left.

He can’t expect everything to stay the same while he spent the last 15 years trying to change in every way imaginable.

Thanking his friend for the help, Dean pays and heads home for the night. Finally having the name of someone to help has lifted a huge weight off his chest. He sighs as he crawls onto the old mattress in the first floor suite, thankful it’s dark enough that he can’t nitpick all that needs to be done. The sooner he can get the inn fixed up, the sooner he can sell it and go back to Sioux Falls and the life he chose rather than the one his parents forced on him.

Maybe it was the comfort of the Roadhouse or the knowledge that this process will move twice as fast with a little help, but Dean sleeps better that night than he has in years. When he wakes with the sun, he feels energized and ready to continue his work on his family’s property.

He decides to start with disassembling the kitchen cabinets and it doesn’t take long for him to find a rhythm in his work— four screws and a trip to the pile, four screws, trip to the pile. Lost in the easy monotony, Dean forgets his decision to call for help until late into the morning. Hoping to catch the contractor before lunch, he brushes the dust from his hands and digs in his pocket for the napkin Jo had written on last night.

He’s not sure why he feels so anxious as he waits for the man on the other end of the line to pick up, but he supposes it rests on the fact that this man only knows Dean by the reputation he left town with— John’s other son.

Sam was always the golden child— pretty blonde cheerleaders and a full-ride to Stanford are not even an exaggeration when it comes to his younger brother.

Dean, on the other hand, was always rough around the edges, emotional, and different — let’s just say he’d go for the cheerleader or the quarterback.

As soon as Dean was shoved out of the closet— his dad walking in on him and Benny not leaving very much up for debate— John shut him out completely. Dean brushed it off as his dad’s way of fighting every piece of homophobia he was raised with, but the fact is: it was more likely he was disgusted by his own son.

But that was ages ago and, from what Sam’s told him, John died swearing his love for both his boys.

Not that Sam would tell Dean otherwise.

“Hello?” A gruff voice breaks him out of his daze and he’s startled back to the present day.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, uh, is this Castiel?” It’s the first time Dean’s said the name aloud and he can’t help but notice how easily it rolls off his tongue.

“This is. How can I help you?” The man is all business, clearly not as affected by Dean’s use of his name as Dean was.

“Oh yeah, uh, I got your name from Jo at the Roadhouse? My name is Dean Winchester and I’m fixing up the old Winchester Inn and I’m realizing the job may be too massive to handle on my own.” Dean winces at his blatant request for help, never one to ask outright for assistance, but as he looks at the pile of kitchen cabinets which need to be sanded, painted, and rehung, he knows he can’t do this alone. He realizes the man on the other end of the line hasn’t said anything when he continues, “Uh, that is if you have the bandwidth for that…”

Another pause before the man, Castiel, speaks again, “I can be right over.”

Dean didn’t really know how to respond, he was expecting to bargain for payment or at least for a delay in starting the project. He’s not used to this immediate willingness to help a complete stranger. He’s about to stumble through a response when he realizes Castiel is no longer on the other end of the phone. He shrugs, and sets it on the counter as there’s a knock on the door.

Shit. The only way Castiel could’ve gotten here that fast is if he’s...

Dean opens the door to the man he’s now seen a mere four times despite his permanent residence on Dean’s property. His neighbor— Castiel— looks different today. The usual softness that accompanies the man overtaken by strong arms, an AC/DC t-shirt, and a tool belt placed perfectly on his hips.

Whoa, Dean.

“Uh, hi?” Dean isn’t sure how one goes about re-introducing themselves to apparently the only help in town after being an ass before. But he’s here and Dean introduced himself on the phone and he still came.

“Hello.” The man– Castiel– greets Dean so matter of factly as he glances around Dean quizzically, presumably taking in the whole of the inn. Dean is a little taken aback by this whole interaction and the way it’s entirely different than any they’ve shared previously. Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s and Dean can’t help but notice a hint of playfulness before Castiel speaks again, “So you do need help?”

Dean rolls his eyes and Castiel laughs sending a shockwave through Dean he hasn’t felt in ages. He promptly ignores it before motioning towards the foyer and inviting his new contractor inside. They don’t exchange any pleasantries, but rather head right to work. Castiel asks questions about everything from the crown molding and stair railing to Dean’s plan for the half shattered French doors.

The man is thorough and he knows his stuff.

Maybe teamwork with him won’t be so bad.

They finish their walk through and Dean is relieved to hear that Castiel agrees the upstairs mostly needs some fresh paint. John left some money to fix up the inn, but not enough for a total overhaul. After working through the budget, they decide it’ll be more cost effective if it retains its original charm.

“Well, Dean, I like what we’ve got here and I think we can make something out of this.” Castiel slouches into one of the bar stools near the kitchen island as he surveys the room one more time. Dean does his best not to notice the sweat slowly making its way down Castiel’s collar bone and beneath the collar of his t-shirt, and the way he says Dean, and his implication that this is theirs . Dean hasn’t shared anything for most of his adult life– mostly because he hasn’t had anyone worth sharing something with.

But this inn feels like it’s meant to be shared, and Dean can’t seem to find any reason not to do so with Castiel.

“I’m glad you think so. I suppose we should discuss payment…” Dean trails off as Castiel’s gaze becomes confused.

“I don’t intend on charging you a dime, Dean.” Castiel’s matter of fact smile returns and Dean can’t ignore the way his gut flutters.

He’s not a nun, Dean’s been attracted to people for as long as he can remember being alive. From Lucy Jones in kindergarten to a myriad of characters in his adult life, he’s always been a people person loaded with an innate attraction for the kind of itches you scratch and forget ever existed.

Castiel is beginning to feel like an itch he’d like to scratch.

But that’d ruin everything, especially Dean’s plan to sell the inn for as much as humanly possible and then get the hell outta dodge.

“I appreciate that, but I have to give you something…” Castiel waves Dean off and he realizes arguing would be useless. “Thanks.”

Castiel nods before taking time to study Dean until it almost feels awkward. Dean is typically the one doing the studying, and he feels naked under this man’s gaze. They remain in a silence delicately balanced between comfortable and awkward until Castiel speaks again, “Well, best I get back to my place. I will see you tomorrow morning, Dean.”

As Castiel stands, he adjusts the toolbelt around his waist and Dean forces himself to look away, not willing to tempt himself with the flash of skin exposed during the adjustment. The contractor must notice because he smirks slightly before nodding his head in goodbye. If he didn’t know better, Dean would swear Castiel walks a bit closer to him than is necessary. He shakes it off before heading to the bathroom to shower off the grime of the day before checking in with Sam, Jess, and the kids.

. . .

They work surprisingly well together.

His new partner is a quiet but sturdy presence throughout the day– rarely chatting about more than the weather or whatever task needs to be done– but on occasion Dean will learn a bit more about him. He’s started to compile a list of Cas’s likes and dislikes– for example, Cas likes that Dean gave him a nickname.

“Hey, Cas, can you hand me the socket wrench?” "Cas?” “Uh, yeah, short for Castiel. You got too many syllables, man.”

Cas nodded and moved on with the task, but Dean can’t help but notice the small smirk everytime he has to call Cas by name. Cas also smiles whenever a screw goes in without a fight and when the first raindrop of an impending storm hits his forehead.

Dean likes it when Cas smiles. (Apparently Dean’s compiled a list for that, too.)

He’s tried to largely ignore the growing attraction for the man he’s working with for more than eight hours a day, but it gets more difficult with each glance to make sure the other is still in one piece and every accidental touch of hands when they pass off a tool.

At least Dean tells himself it’s accidental.

He hadn’t gotten enough out of Cas to even know if he “plays for that team,” as Sam likes to say. Dean is almost positive John wouldn’t have encouraged the two work together if Cas is gay, but there are moments that give him more hope that he deserves.

“Dean!” Cas’s steady voice startles him from the monotony of painting kitchen cabinets and his overflowing thoughts.

He puts down the paintbrush and walks over to the fireplace where Cas is supposed to be sanding down the mantle, “Yeah, Cas, what is it?” There’s that smile– sometimes Dean wonders if he uses his nickname for Cas just to get a glimpse of it.

“I’m hungry and I’m out of sand paper.” Cas looks up from the stool he’s been sitting on for hours with a hint of puppy dog eyes. Dean isn’t exactly paying Cas so he could definitely come and go as he pleases, but they tend to stick to a similar schedule everyday. Checking his watch, Dean sees it is lunchtime and agrees to head into town for a sandwich.

“I should probably get cleaned up a bit…” Cas trails off as he surveys his dusty jeans and sweat drenched t-shirt. Without trying to, Dean gets lost in the unfairly attractive mess of it all for a moment too long. He looks up to speak again and Cas is smirking almost knowingly.

Shit.

“Yeah, sure. You can use the shower here if you want but no promise there’s any hot water.” Dean scratches behind his ear nervously. This wasn’t any sort of purposeful invitation, but he can’t help but feel a wad of want fall into his stomach. Cas simply nods his thanks before heading into the main floor bathroom with a change of clothes he brought “just in case”. Dean laughed when Cas told him that he’s always that prepared and cited the fact that Cas only lives thirty steps away from the inn. He simply shrugged and said “You never know” and that was the end of that. Dean supposes Cas was right and the change of clothes had come in handy.

Though, not exactly how Dean thought they would.

As he hears the shower turn on, Dean goes back to painting kitchen cabinets in hopes of distracting himself from the very attractive, very naked man that is showering in the next room. It works for a while but eventually the knowledge feels stifling and Dean decides to clean up quickly and wait for Cas on the porch.

“What’re you waiting out here for?” Cas walks outside, resting his arm on the doorframe to only accentuate his bicep muscles. Dean knows if he looks at what is probably disheveled and wet hair from the shower it’ll take every piece of willpower he has not to jump the guy right then and there.

“Let’s go.” He leads Cas to his car without looking in his direction or answering his question. As Dean walks around the back of the impala he sees Cas smirk again.

Bastard.

They take the short drive into town before stopping at the hardware store. Dean needs to pick up some new screws so he can finish the cabinets and Cas needs some more sand paper so they decide to split up and grab what they need. Cas cuts right, beelining for the aisle like he lives here– now that Dean thinks about it, Cas probably does come here a lot– and Dean wanders to the left looking for the screw aisle.

He ends up finding them along with a confused pre-teen boy comparing screw sizes to an outlet cover. Dean laughs to himself before offering his help, “Anything I can help with?”

The boy turns to Dean, startled at first, but then relaxing when he doesn’t sense any immediate threat, “Yeah, that’d be great. My mom sent me in here twenty minutes ago, but I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

Dean laughs, “Well, your Dad should’ve taught you screw shopping at the very least.”

“How could he do that when he doesn’t know I exist?” The kid says it so matter of factly, Dean isn’t even sure he heard him correctly. He scans him for signs of distress, but whatever therapy he’s getting must’ve worked because the kid goes back to comparing screws without missing a beat.

“Fair enough. Here, you’ll want these ones,” Dean grabs a four pack of the screws the kid is looking for and hands it to him. “Then you’ll have extras in case you need to replace another one.”

“Awesome, thanks! My names–”

“Ben? What’s taking you–” Dean winces, he’d know that voice anywhere and the fact she paused means… “Dean?! What are you doing talking to… what’s going on here?”

“Mom!”

“Lisa…”

Ben (apparently) and Dean speak at the same time, both turning towards the woman Dean hasn’t thought about in years. They were something– more than something– for about a year, but John’s pressure pushed Dean out of town and Lisa refused to leave Lawrence... so now they're here, awkwardly looking at each other in a hardware store.

“Lisa, look, I can explain–”

“Dean, I found the sandpaper and I also grabbed some extra paint for that wall in the living–” Dean’s cut off as Cas rounds the corner looking down at the sandpaper packaging and clearly missing all the fun in aisle nine, “Oh. Hi!”

Then Cas waves , an adorable wave that if Dean wasn’t so goddamn turned around probably would’ve sent him spiraling. Dean facepalms to hide his smile and proceeds to rub his calloused hands through his hair trying to decide what to say next. But Ben must be oblivious to the absolute shit storm happening a foot above his current height because he chooses this moment to chime in, “I was confused about which screws to get and Dean offered to help, Mom. That’s all. And look,” Ben holds up the package Dean handed him what feels like an eternity ago, “Got ‘em!”

That kid just saved Dean’s ass.

Lisa still looks a little stunned to see Dean– his return had seemingly not reached the far ends of the town gossip chain quite yet– but then she glances back towards Cas… and then back to Dean.

He’s about to correct her when she surprises him with a hug.

They didn’t exactly end on bad terms, but he probably could’ve been nicer when he told her he was leaving.

Hence why the hug catches him off guard, as does what she quietly whispers in his ear, “I’m glad you found someone that makes you smile like that again.”

Dean can't even formulate a correction before Lisa’s telling Ben to thank Dean for his help and the pair is heading down the other end of the aisle. He turns towards Cas who is staring intensely at a speck on the floor by his feet, but seems to be smiling all the same.

Maybe Dean isn’t wrong about him.

They check out and head back to the Impala in silence. It isn’t until they get home after swinging through the drive thru that Dean even realizes he forgot to grab the screws.

#Destiel #destiel ff #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #castiel owns my soul #where the fuck did destiel come from?#capthamm #please be kind I've only watched halfway through season 7

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highly-opinionated-ramblings · 4 years

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Batshipping masterpost

Sometimes asking yourself the question “what would it take for me to ship these two characters together?” helps you come up with really really good stories that you otherwise might never have thought of!

Very fun writing exercise. Do recommend.

ANYWAY. I like Batman, so I asked myself this question about him, and these were the results!

(Featuring: Catwoman, Riddler, Twoface, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Azrael, Mr. Freeze, Clayface, Superman, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, and Aquaman)

What would it take for me to ship Batman with that character? A few key ingredients:

If they are/were a villain, a redemption of sorts. A slow process of coming to terms and actively deciding “yeah, that’s not who I am anymore.”

A connection, a distinct moment where they’re able to talk to Batman as more than just an old enemy or a League ally. A spark that generates interest in developing the relationship further.

An establishment of explicit trust. This usually comes in the form of Bruce revealing his identity to the other and trusting them (maybe tentatively at first, but even so) not to give it away.

An introduction to the kids. I am one hundred percent positive that this is, for the vast majority, not a voluntary action on Batman’s part. But if you raise nine kids to be detectives, you can’t expect to keep secrets from them for long! And once they know you’ve been sleeping with that former villain, you’re going to have to justify that to them somehow.

Then the whole cycle starts again as the villain redeems themselves in the eyes of the kids and gains their trust and acceptance too. Good stuff.

Note: my interpretations of these characters are entirely my own and by no means do all of them line up with any sort of canon. I just sort of do whatever.

Also: some of the bullet points below address some of the mental health problems in the villains, so proceed at your own discretion.

Catwoman: I really like the Gotham tv show’s dynamic between Bruce and Selina, which is to say, they were childhood friends with an early attraction to one another, but had a falling out sometime around the very beginnings of Bruce actually becoming Batman. She spends a few years as a professional thief. He sends her to prison a few times. But eventually she settles down and opens up a casino or whatever, where she deals information under the table. Alfred and the kids know her these days as an ally rather than enemy. So it’s just a matter of her realizing that her attraction to Bruce is deeper than originally assumed, and that if she wants to be with him she has to really dedicate herself to that idea, and for him to realize that she’s being serious and that he needs to prioritize spending time with her over obsessing over his work.

Bruce takes his mask off dramatically, saying something along the lines of “it’s me, Selina” and she’s like “yeah I know.” “What?” “You do this thing where you pace back and forth and nod your head up and down when you’re thinking. Never known anyone else who did that but Bruce Wayne.” “...Oh.”

Childhood friends interpretation is also great because Alfred already knows her and likes her. And she has all these embarrassing stories about 14 year old Bruce to share, which means that even the most resistant of the kids warm up to her right away.

Riddler: the first line in his Arkham file is that he has an obsessive need for attention. And Bruce KNOWS that. But it takes years for it to occur to him, incredibly sleep-deprived and staring down one of Ed’s death traps that he really, really doesn’t want to deal with today....what would happen if he just, y’know, gives it to him? The attention that he wants? And the results are instantaneous. It’s like the floodgates are open and Ed just can’t stop talking. It starts out snide and derogatory, the same way he usually talks to Batman, but the longer it goes on the more it deteriorates into something oddly helpless and vulnerable. Bruce has been so used to cocky, swaggering Ed that it never really occurred to him that this was someone suffering, who needed help. So he sits down and does his best to convince Ed that he’s not going to take him in (how many times has he been sent to Arkham? And what good has it done him, really?) and they talk. He leaves out of necessity (bank robbery in progress, says Barbara’s voice in his ear) but he goes back the next day, and again after that. Ed gets attention from Bruce without having to resort to crime to get it. Bruce gets a break from head busting and an outlet for some of the stale energy inside his head. They tell each other riddles and play strategy games and get to know each other, for real this time.

Ed stops worrying so much about proving that he’s smarter than Batman. Instead he channels all that energy into uncovering Bruce’s secret identity. It’s just another one of their games. Bruce has kept that secret for a long time and he’s confident he can keep it up, but Ed’s always alert waiting for him to slip up, to leave a clue

Option 1 for how he finds out: he sets up an elaborate trap, making it seem like he’s in danger and the only way to save him is for Bruce to take his mask off, so he does. Ed is outraged. “REALLY? BRUCE WAYNE? FUCKING REALLY?” he yells, dropping all pretense of being in danger. The robots he made for this setup drop like puppets with cut strings. Bruce gets ready to Fight.

Option 2: Some other villain reveals Bruce’s identity before he gets the chance (Arkhamverse style). Ed is outraged. “HOW DARE YOU LET ANYONE ELSE BUT ME DO THAT” he yells while Bruce tries his best to ignore him and focus on calling the JL to fix the whole situation somehow

Option 3: Bruce just tells him. Ed is outraged. “I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO FIGURE IT OUT YOU IDIOT”

The kids are Not Happy about Bruce dating Gotham’s Most Annoying Super Villain

Twoface: again I gotta go with the whole ‘they were friends when they were younger and Bruce had a raging crush on him’ setup. Cause that adds a whole layer to Bruce’s part of the story, watching Harvey become Twoface and assuming responsibility for locking him up every time he gets out. One day something happens in Gotham- string of murders or something, it’s not important really what it is. Bruce goes after the person responsible and his trail leads him to Harvey. So he busts into the safe house, intending to intimidate anything Harvey knows out of him, and then throw him back in Blackgate. “Ohohoho, noooooo, you got this all wrong,” Harvey says when he figures out what Batman’s getting at. “That motherfucker put a dozen of my men in the ground. This is personal. You want me to tell you what I know, you’re going to take me with you.” And Bruce agrees. Cause he knows Harvey’s got a certain moral code that he can be trusted to stick to, and it’s the most painless way of getting what he wants from him anyway. Working with Harvey is weird, though. He shoots a couple of goons going after Batman and gives him that lopsided smile, says “I’ve got your back,” and suddenly Bruce is like 20 again and Harvey is bringing him a coffee, smiling. During their chase they have a dramatic rooftop showdown with whoever it is they’re chasing. Bruce turns around just in time to see one of the thugs push Twoface over the edge. He gets caught up in the moment and practically screams, “Harvey!” Of course, he’s able to dramatically swoop in and save him, though it’s a pretty close call. When Harvey comes to he sits up and says quietly, “It’s been a long time since anyone’s called my name like that, did we have that kind of relationship?” and Bruce panics and tries to brush it off as his imagination, but Harvey shakes his head and says “once you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it, man. It’s you under there, isn’t it, Bruce?” And it turns out that knowing Bruce’s real identity turned out to be exactly what Harvey needed. Cause he can identify some of the duality he feels about himself in Batman, now. They spend some more time together, talking some of that out, and it doesn’t take long for Bruce’s crush to return en force.

Poison Ivy: He lets her go. He knew she was at that scene, and she knows he saw her, but he lets her go, cause it wasn’t a big deal. No one died, relatively little property damage, and that jerk deserved it anyway. The next day there’s a potted plant sitting on GCPD’s doorstep and they call Batman thinking it might be dangerous, but it’s just a lovely specimen of a rare flower, which he knows is her way of saying thanks. (He doesn’t let the police know that, though. He just puts it in the back of the Batmobile and tells them it’s nothing he can’t handle). He takes it home with him and treats it well. And she knows it, can kind of sense it, distantly. They have a few more run ins over the course of the next few months and they take it easy on each other, having this sort of mutually unspoken agreement. Eventually something happens for her to need to talk to Batman, so she digs her roots in deep and finds that flower...in the garden at Wayne Manor. She leaves a message for Batman and they meet up and talk about whatever she needed. She doesn’t mention the Manor, so he asks about it. She just shrugs and mentions something about Bruce Wayne’s recent efforts in protecting the environment. “Maybe we’re not as different as I thought, after all.” They give each other more little presents from afar. One day she sees him hanging around (where she knows he knows she can see him), and drops by to talk. He offers her a ride home and ends up spending the night.

This one I think he owns up to before the kids can figure it out. Pam’s a good source of information, and if he was desperate he’d call her even with all of them watching. They’d all think he’d been bewitched, of course. It’d take a while to convince them all otherwise.

Harley Quinn: all it takes is for him to get his first glimpse of the real her and decide that Joker victims need to stick together and help other Joker victims. After the breakup and the subsequent recovery, she’s living free (albeit under Constant Surveillance) in Gotham, and he checks in every once in a while, just to make sure she’s doing ok and not reverting to her previous, Joker-driven, rocket-fueled bad habits. One day there’s an incident in her neighborhood- maybe someone was going after her and Bruce was there protecting her, or maybe it wasn’t related to her at all. Regardless, it’s her who finds him after the explosion and takes him home and gives him first aid. He’s groggy and panicky when he first wakes up in a strange place (not a hospital, not the cave) with an IV drip in his arm (he’s not in a hospital, where did that come from!). It gets worse when he realizes that his mask was blown right off his face in the blast. It gets SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE when Harley appears in his field of vision, waving around a tablet pulled up to Bruce Wayne’s wikipedia page, in full psychologist mode, ranting about how he’s been going about dealing with his childhood trauma All Wrong. But they talk, and she promises not to give his secret away. “What would I have to gain from that? You’d stop coming to visit me then!” It takes a while for the two of them to figure out exactly what’s going on between them but once they’re both sure the others’ intentions are good, they develop a good, strong relationship.

Bonus points if, at any point in the above time space, she walks up to him one day and hands him an unmarked usb drive. “What’s on this?” “My daughter.” “What.” “My daughter! Her location and everything about her.” “Is she...Joker’s?” “I dunno. Could have been him or any one of a number of other guys. Mistah J threw some really wild parties. *shrug* The only part that really matters to me is that she’s mine. And if anything ever happens to me, she’ll need someone to look out for her, y’know?” “And that’s me???” “Well, helping people in need is one of your compulsions, after all. Especially kids, or else you wouldn’t have so many of your own.”

I usually imagine Jason as one of the ones kind of sticking up for Batman, citing how crime has all but disappeared since he started sleeping with whatever particular villain and that who are they to police who Bruce shares his bed with anyway (BONUS bonus points if he’s just entering the early stages of coming to terms with his own bisexuality and never realized that Bruce was bi, too), but that wouldn’t be the case with Harley. He’d feel pretty hurt about that, I think. On the other hand: Dick has been around since Harley’s debut on the scene, and has always thought of her as relatively harmless and even respected her to a degree, as a fellow acrobat, so he’s cool with her dating Bruce

Azrael: His JL team goes on hiatus for a little while, so he calls Bruce up like “uhhh, I don’t really have much of anywhere else to go, so can I come back to Gotham for a while?” And Bruce tells him that they’re actually experiencing a pretty calm stretch for a change, but yeah, he can come if he wants. At first he’s excited because he’s never been invited to the actual, og Batcave, but there really IS nothing going on. He meets Alfred, who offers him tea. He meets Steph and Tim, out of masks, lounging on the couch playing Street Fighter. They assure him that if literally anything happens, one of their gajillion alert systems will let them know. He goes off in search of Bruce, finds him sitting at the kitchen table making his way through a veritable mountain of paperwork. Eventually he admits that he doesn’t really know what to do with himself in the downtime. “I usually try to use time like this to do things for Bruce Wayne, instead of for Batman,” Bruce explains. “You should do something for Michael Lane, while you have the chance.” “But...but...but I’ve been Azrael full-time for years now...” “Alright, well, what did you like to do before you were Azrael?” “UHH...” Before he can short-circuit too much trying to come up with an actual answer to that question, Bruce puts aside his paperwork and takes his arm. They get in the car and Bruce takes him to like a hobby shop or something. They buy model kits and a cookbook and some yarn (”one of the kids can teach you”), and he promises that one of these days they’ll clear some space on the lawn to play football. Michael hasn’t experienced this level of anyone caring for his well-being probably ever? and all he can do is stammer something about “is there anything I can do for Bruce Wayne in return?” “You can keep me company while I file all my paperwork, I guess.” So he sits at the table across from Bruce and builds his little ATAT model kit feeling happier than he has in a long time. Bruce can tell that a little more attention would do him good, so they spend some more time hanging out which leads to having some deep conversations and building up feelings for each other, it’s all very cute

Right at the beginning of Michael developing his crush on Bruce he realizes that something’s different, but doesn’t quite realize what it is, and his mind jumps to the worst case scenario right away. He locks himself in his room, calls Bruce at work, panicking, and says he thinks his St. Dumas brainwashed obsession with Bruce might be coming back. Bruce tells him to calm down, they’ll run some tests. All the tests come back negative, but Michael is visibly shaken, so Bruce offers for him to hang around Gotham a little longer so they can monitor him, which is what leads to his extended stay in Gotham

Mr. Freeze: One day something changes. One day the realization finally, finally clicks into place. There’s a huge floating JL base in the sky and aliens living on Earth and people coming back from the dead and healing from miraculous injuries and plagues all the time. If it was going to happen to him, it would have happened by now. It’s over. Nora’s not coming back. That day he laces up his boots and loads his gun and walks over to the little diner on the corner and wrecks it. Batman gets the call, and obviously he knows that something’s different, this isn’t Vic’s MO, but he goes anyway, of course. Vic blasts away at him with his freeze gun, wildly, recklessly, screaming and ranting the whole time. Bruce dodges out of view, and Vic transfers his aggressions to the nearest object in sight: a table. He blasts that thing in half, and then in half again, and keeps going until it’s nothing but splinters and he’s just standing there, gasping for breath. “Victor,” says Bruce from behind him, “tell me what’s wrong.” “Nora’s dead,” Vic mumbles under his breath. Bruce comes around to face him and Vic is looking at him with THE SADDEST puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. (I know what you’re thinking right now. “Mr. Freeze can’t do puppy dog eyes.” You’re WRONG, I’m telling you) “That’s the first time I’ve ever said that out loud, I think... I d-don’t...I don’t know what to do…” and Bruce is like, darn, I can’t take this fool to jail. So he brings him back to his chilly lair instead and sits him down and talks him through it a little. Leaves him with a phone number to call if it gets real bad again, but makes the first call to check up on him later anyway. This one is a sloooow burn, it takes Vic MONTHS to get over Nora, couple weeks to realize he MIGHT? be developing feelings for Bruce, couple more weeks to wrestle with the guilt of that. Learning Bruce’s identity is the thing that really brings all of it to a head. Maybe there’s an attempt on Bruce Wayne’s life and later that day Batman shows up with the same pattern of lacerations on his cheek, or broken leg, or whatever. Vic’s not an idiot. He can put two and two together. When Bruce finally takes off the helmet in front of him, it’s a huge relief. To be able to say “I know what it’s like to lose people” and for Vic to know he’s not just talking about heroing. They get closer and closer from there. Their relationship is a weird one, with a lot of compromises to make, but they do the best they can.

The kids don’t particularly mind Bruce going out with Vic. He’s not so much a villain as he is just a guy who’s been dealt a bad hand in life and done the best he could with it. But having around makes the already-cool cave soooo much colder, which isn’t so fun.

Clayface: There hasn’t been an incident with Clayface in years. He’s older, little calmer, little more mature (I like the New 52 plotline of him joining Kate’s crime busting team, but this little scenario works even without that part thrown in). Still, when Bruce hears he’s back in town, he figures he should probably pay him a visit anyway. Just in case he’s planning something. But he goes to the address he was given, some apartment building in Kingston, opens the door, and finds Basil. Not Clayface, Basil Karlo, sitting in a chair by the window reading a paper. “Haven’t seen that face on you in a while,” he says, still unsure if it’s a trick or not. “Oh,” Basil shrugs, unsure if he should be worried about being tossed in jail again or not. “Well, it’s my face. The one I’m most familiar with, takes the least amount of concentration to keep up with. I did make some changes, though, see? Few gray hairs, few lines on my face. Do I look older?” “Yes. It’s a good look.” He keeps checking in with him, cause you can never be too careful, and then because he actually starts to enjoy Basil’s company. Their relationship is one of the more light-hearted ones on this list. They get wine drunk and make out on the roof of the apartment building, very giggly.

“If I learned anything at Arkham, it’s that there are some things that you know are wrong with you, but there are also things that are wrong with you that you aren’t even aware of, and that you couldn’t identify or fix even if you tried.” “One of the psychologists told you that?” “No. I shared a cell with Tetch for a few weeks. That dude is so much more messed up than you realize.”

Superman: Clark calls him up saying something about a mystery in Metropolis that has everyone stumped, and maybe the World’s Greatest Detective wouldn’t mind helping him out? So Bruce drops by to lend him a hand. The ‘mystery’ turns out to be a group of unfamiliar aliens who’re out to get Superman (I don’t care why. Maybe they’re holding some kind of grudge, maybe they’re bounty hunters, maybe they want to sell him off into space-gladiator slavery, whatever). These antagonistic aliens have been very careful in their preparations- they’ve done all the math, and come up with special weapons specifically designed to hit Superman hard enough to knock him out. But they didn’t plan on Batman being there with him, which throws them off just enough that Superman is able to chase them off successfully. In the midst of that fight, though, Bruce takes a hit. A hit calculated for Superman. It breaks several of his ribs and punctures a lung. Clark panics, scoops him up and flies him to the nearest hospital at record speeds. They’re able to stabilize him at Metropolis, and then they send him back to the Watchtower for further treatment. When he wakes up he’s pretty disoriented and confused, but Clark (who had been listening for a change in his breathing and heartbeat from a couple rooms away) comes rushing in, ushering him back to bed and promising to explain everything. Bruce is woozy and wonky enough from whatever drugs they gave him that he lays back down and lets Clark hold his hand protectively without argument. He listens to Clark’s explanation, mumbles something about calling Alfred, and promptly falls back asleep. Clark feels so guilty about his injury that he won’t leave his side for weeks, even following him back to Gotham once he’s well enough to leave the Watchtower.

“God, when will they finally just kiss already,” Jason says, taking cover with the rest of the family in the cave. “I know, right,” says Steph while Tim, Cass, and Duke (and Alfred) all nod in agreement. “SHUT UP,” yells Damian, having a hard time adapting to the idea of his dad and his best friend’s dad getting together

Any Superbat is good Superbat but I enjoy it best in the context of ‘they’re old enough by now to be embarrassed about how angsty and competitive they were when they first met, and they both have huge extended families, and the rest of the JL has been watching them dance around each other for YEARS, JUST KISS ALREADY DAMMIT’

Wonder Woman: I don’t usually imagine Bruce as a flustered kind of guy, but Wonder Woman is everything he wants to be when he grows up and he can’t help it. She’s so effortlessly cool, calm, and collected. And she’s a natural charmer, the public loves her. She always manages to come at things with a fresh perspective that has helped unstick his too-logical train of thought numerous times. She paid him a compliment once and he sat in the batmobile in the parking lot thinking about it for like twenty minutes. One day they get assigned to a League PR thing together that turns into an assassination attempt (surprising no one), but everything turns out ok. Minor damage to the surrounding buildings, a few people injured in the mass chaos, that’s all. She goes looking for him after returning from talking to the local cops, and finds him with a toddler girl on his hip, holding hands with her six yo sister, helping them look for their parents. And she just has to stop and marvel for a minute at how soft his voice is??? How the toddler isn’t even crying??? He bends down to hug the little girl bye after returning her to her fam and Diana almost has a heart attack. “I see that the gods have blessed you with an affinity for children of all ages,” she says. By the time he straightens back up he’s Batman again. “What do you mean by that?” “I can never get kids to warm up to me like that in situations like these...I always thought it was because I was just too big and imposing. How did you do it?” “Oh. Well. You know. *gestures vaguely* You just gotta give them what they want.” “And what is that?” “Security. A promise of safety from an adult that they can trust.” She doesn’t quite get it but she watches him, and talks to his sidekicks sometimes. It amazes her how much kindness and love are hidden under that mask of his. When he smiles from the heart he could melt glaciers. So she starts to press, just a little, just to see how he’ll respond. And once she figures out exactly how flustered he can get, too, it’s all downhill from there.

Martian Manhunter: This one is literally one of the sweetest, most pure relationship dynamics I think I’ve ever written, which really caught me by surprise! The way I think of it is like this: When they first meet, Bruce is really, really uncomfortable with the idea of having J’onn in his head, so J’onn tries to keep telecommunication with him to a minimum. So when Bruce gets his attention during like a meeting or something and subtly lets him know he needs to talk, J’onn knows it must be important. So he opens up a private channel and helps Bruce deal with whatever it is (I don’t know exactly what that would be, only that it’d be some kind of sensitive topic best kept between the two of them). And over the course of that, all those one-on-one mind convos, Bruce starts to get used to talking like that with J’onn. In return, while they’re working together, he helps J’onn get used to human physical contact. It starts with small things- handshakes, little pats on the shoulder- until J’onn is comfortable returning them. One day J’onn has a bad day and it’s Bruce that comes to find him, to comfort him. He doesn’t really say anything, just puts his arms around J’onn and holds him close. Most humans- and hell, even most Martians- wouldn’t have done that for him. What else was J’onn supposed to do but fall in love with him?

I really liked the scene in JL8 where J’onn was trying to, like, share a memory with Bruce or something, and instead he ended up unintentionally stumbling into some of Bruce’s trauma memories, which freaked both of them out pretty badly. I think that little scene would fit quite nicely into this scenario. Bonus, if it happens in the really early days of the League, it doubles as the moment when J’onn first learns Bruce’s secret identity.

Flash: It’s been a longtime headcanon of mine that Barry is very active in the Central City community, not just as Flash, but as himself, too. Namely, he spends a good deal of his free time volunteering with the local homeless shelter slash food bank. I mean, come on, just by the very nature of his powers, is it any surprise that he has a vested interest in ending hunger in his community? One day he stops Bruce in the hall in the Watchtower, and clumsily explains that he needs to ask a favor. The shelter has been looking to expand their operations for some time, but right at the last second one of their backers pulled out. They’re short 7k for the payment on the property they needed to make tomorrow, and Barry didn’t know where else to turn to get that much money that quickly. He promises to pay him back, somehow, eventually. Bruce cuts him a check right there for 10k, and tells him to consider it a gift. Later he even publicly endorses the program on social media, saying he thinks Gotham should implement something similar. Barry invites him down to see the building he paid for, so Bruce rolls up his sleeves and spends the day volunteering with him. It’s a chance for both of them to see a side of the other that they’ve never seen before. Bruce watches Barry shine like a ray of sunshine, bringing light and laughter to a room full of people at their very lowest. Barry watches Bruce inspire trust and confidence in complete strangers, like magic. Not to mention, that smile- Barry tries not to use his powers out in the open if he can avoid it, but he discreetly flashes over to stop a tray or something from falling, and of course it doesn’t escape Bruce’s notice. He grins at Barry from across the room and Barry’s heart fully stops for a second.

I like to think of Bruce as a little older than Barry. Just a little, just a few years. Just enough that Barry always feels like an inexperienced, incompetent baby in the face of The Batman

This one throws the kids for such a loop once they find out about it. “THIS is what you’re attracted to, Bruce? THIS???”

Green Lantern: what I know about Hal is that he’s sassy. And what I know about Bruce is that if anyone he doesn’t have the ability to tell to go to their room is sassy with him, he gets snippy. So he and Hal butt heads a lot. One day Hal is venting to Superman in like, an elevator or something about how Bruce just Doesn’t Get It, Clark, He Doesn’t Understand Me, and Clark says, “well, Hal, can you honestly say that you understand him, either?” And suggests that maybe he should spend some more time actually getting to know Bruce before passing judgement. Hal takes that to mean ‘maybe I should go to Gotham and spy on Batman for a day’. When he spots him doing his best to hide inconspicuously on a nearby rooftop, Bruce rolls his eyes and ignores him. Dick spots him too, though, and invites him to the cave in hopes that maybe they’ll be able to settle whatever their argument was about (Jason, Tim, and Steph break out the popcorn and get themselves front row seats for the Drama). But in the end, an up-close perspective was exactly what Hal needed to realize that there was more to Batman than had been meeting his eye. He watches Bruce juggle ten different comm feeds while giving a press conference AND directing his kids’ efforts in the field at the same time, and he earns a new respect for Bruce. He gets where he’s coming from now, and why he’s always so cautious all the time. The guy has a lot to lose. So he mans up and apologizes. Bruce accepts the apology graciously, says he realizes that they’re fundamentally different people but that he values Hal as a comrade and respects his prowess with the ring, and Hal is like, ‘ah. We Are Friends Now.’ He spends more of his time on Earth with Bruce, and along the way he trips and falls headlong into a debilitating crush on him. Like, a visibly obvious crush. Bruce finds it adorable.

Green Arrow: Bruce and Ollie get invited to the same billionaire shindig one day and neither of them can think of a good enough reason to not go. Ollie’s recovering from a bad ankle sprain, and Bruce hasn’t slept in days, so instead of socializing with anyone else there they just sit in the corner and hang out with each other. Midway through the event Bruce closes his eyes and does this forceful little sigh through his nose. Ollie knows him well enough by now to know that small outward signs indicate big amounts of internal emotions with Bruce, and this is about as frustrated as he’s ever seen him out of mask. Normally his act is impenetrable. “What,” he asks, imagination running full speed ahead thinking about what might have happened, “what’s wrong?” “Firefly just broke out of prison,” Bruce growls, reaching for a refill of whatever he’s drinking. “Wh- Wait, who?” “Pyromaniac, serial arsonist in Gotham.” “How exactly did you learn this?” (read: do you have some kind of spider sense I don’t know about?) Bruce just gestures to his microscopic earpiece. Ollie offers, probably against his better judgement, to take a trip to Gotham and help catch Firefly. Bruce, barely able to see straight at that point (bad combination of sleeplessness and alcohol), accepts. So Ollie gets the full treatment, a trip to the cave and tea from Alfred and a haranguing from the kids and a trip to Blackgate with Firefly, even. In return he offers to have Bruce over in Star City sometime. Ollie is usually a little on edge around Bruce, but then he starts to see the real him and finds out that he does, in fact have a sense of humor. They have goofy adventures together and it’s all very cute

Aquaman: Arthur is hotheaded and when he gets in a Mood, the sight of Bruce and his stupid unmovable face just makes him angrier. But once during a mission, when Arthur is busy working himself into a panic, not knowing what to do, it’s Bruce that snaps him out of it. Grabs him by the shoulders and demands that he get a hold of himself. And it’s enough of a shock that it actually works- Bruce tells Arthur the plan, and Arthur does it without argument. No one is more surprised when it works than he is. He is SHOOK. Eventually he swallows his pride enough to go up to Batman and admit, “I think I’m still too emotionally invested in this, can you help me?” Bruce agrees, of course. He does his best to explain how he always keeps his emotions in check, especially when lives are on the line. It occurs to Arthur to wonder what kind of toll that takes on a person. He decides that Bruce could probably use a little vacation of sorts, and invites him to spend a day with him in Atlantis. A day in the life of a king, if you will. Bruce rolls his eyes and agrees, just to play along, but he ends up really enjoying it. Yes, there are a dozen-odd irons in the fire waiting for him when he gets home, but this time he finds that he actually has the energy to deal with them for once. Which is a good enough excuse to go back and do it again, and spend more time with Arthur in the process.

Dami is usually super resistant to Bruce dating anyone, but he would be ok with Arthur, I think. Like, “you bagged a king? Ok, respect”

Extra notes:

I feel like a lot of my thoughts about Clayface and Martian Manhunter specifically could also apply to Killer Croc, too, in a way. I mean, he’s not EVIL. He’s just never really been treated like a person, and so he embraced his image as Killer Croc instead of continuing to face that rejection. But if anyone can look past his exterior and see the needs of the man within, Bruce could. Feels a little weird to think about but maybe there’s something there.

Polyshipping is GREAT may I interest you in some ot3s??? SuperWonderBat is one of the more obvious ones, and I love it (cause Diana gets to play with TWO flustered boys) but BatLanternFlash is also top tier. And then there’s the villains! RiddleBatCat is one of my favorites! Also TwoRiddleBat and BruHarlIvy. The possibilities are endless!

I considered adding Lex and Slade to this post, but in the end I left them off. Cause it’s hard for me to see those as anything but weird, inherently unhealthy relationships. They’d make great black ships though : o

When talking about Bruce dating someone else from the JL, there’s DOUBLE the kids to embarrass. Can you imagine you’re like, Roy Harper or something, somebody’s sidekick, and you walk in and find BATMAN in bed with your mentor???? WILD

This post really got away from me, haha. Thanks for reading! Hit me up if you ever need someone to talk about Batshipping with (especially rarepairs, I got you fam)!

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 4 years

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Return to Me - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: The Night I Held You

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! To celebrate, here is the next, very smutty, chapter of Return to Me! Your comments lately have been making me so happy, so thank you so much! I love you all! I haven’t written smut in so long, so bear with me if it’s bad. Lemme know what you think! And if you wanna be tagged. I haven’t mentioned this in a while, but a few people on the tag list don’t have the proper settings to be tagged, so if they want to get the notifications, they’ll have to change their privacy settings. Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Oh! I forgot. This chapter includes a scene inspired by one of my favorites from How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, and a Britney Spears lyric. It’s really got it all. Alright, now go read and enjoy!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 6,217 (I’M SORRY IT’S SO LONG) Synopsis: Poe returns home to Yavin-4 to ask his father for some much needed help. Reunited once more, the reader and Poe find some time to be together again. (Warning: it’s smut, guys.)

Tag List: @xeniarocks, @too-many-baes, @araceli91103, @idocarealot, @treblebeth, @treestarrrrrrrr, @thescarletknight2014, @charlottie2998, @ibikus, @mellow-f1, @mrsdaamneron, @trustme3-13, @missjess71, @ella-solei, @minelskede, @gleigh42, @usuallyweepingnacho, @givemethatgold, @and-claudia, @constantdisgrace, @wordsinwinters, @readingvogueonprivetdrive, @trshbb, @kaitlynw011, @ihave2muchtimeonmyhands, @fairytalesforever, @thanos-jeep, @mixedfandxms, @pastelbunny1501, @emotionalcal, @daniellajocelyn, @getyourselfaunicorn, @spider-starry, @jimhalpertcanbuymelove, @angelicaxhouston, @roserrys

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“Alright, Black Squadron, best behavior. This isn’t just my dad we’re visiting, he’s a rebellion hero, don’t forget.”

“How could we when it’s all you remind us of?” Jess teased, her voice vibrating through the intercom of Poe’s borrowed ship. He laughed and shook his head as he flipped off the speaker. He could see the outline of his childhood home as they approached, and couldn’t help but take in a deep breath. It has been quite some time since he had last been home, and with the news he was bringing, he wasn’t too excited to be back.

He received a transmission from Leia earlier that day, informing him that she and a small group from the Resistance would be meeting him down on Yavin-4. The goal of this visit was to secure a temporary base at Poe’s father’s home, as well as start mounting their return. Although he was excited to see his father again, and to have the Resistance back together, Poe now had to face the arduous task of convincing his father to help.

After the Battle of Endor, Kes Dameron and his wife, Shara Bey, decided to start a different life on Yavin-4. They planted their Force Tree in the back yard and watched it grow as their only son did, too, far away from the fighting within the rest of the galaxy. Shara Bey continued to fly to protect Yavin-4, and when Poe was eight years old, she died. Kes was a strong man, but Poe knew that his father worried about Poe finding the same fate as his mother. Kes never joined up with the Resistance again, but supported Poe through everything he did. Poe just hoped that this was one of those times, too. He hoped that he could convince his father that he still had some fighting years left in him yet.

Poe landed his ship a couple yards from his home and took a few moments before he even opened the hood of his ship. BB-8 asked what he was doing, forcing Poe to face his task. He climbed out of the ship and landed on the soft mud of the jungle, his boots sinking slightly into the ground.

“This is home?” Suralinda asked. Poe laughed nervously and looked around. As always, there was a stream of smoke coming from the top of his house. The Force tree was visible from around the side of the house, its massive branches challenging the hundreds of years old trees around it. Scattered on the front porch were pairs of shoes and a few farming and gardening tools. It was as if nothing had changed since he was last here.

He made his way forward and Poe didn’t have to get more than four feet away from the house before the front door swung open and Kes Dameron ran to embrace his son.

“Hey, Dad,” Poe said, hugging his broad frame just as firmly.

“I see you’ve brought friends,” Kes said, clapping him on the back when he pulled away. Poe smiled and nodded his head.

“Yes. Dad, this is Black Squadron. Black Squadron, this is my father, Sergeant Kes Dameron.”

“Stop it with that Sergeant shit,” Kes said, walking towards Black Squadron, giving each of them a firm handshake. “Call me Kes. You’re all welcome in my home.” They all greeted him back warmly and began to file into the house. Poe brought up the rear and touched his dad on the back carefully, pulling his attention away from hosting duties.

“Think you can welcome a few more?” Poe asked.

“Something you want to tell me?” Kes asked, stopping on his front porch.

“Yes.” Kes motioned to the chairs in front of the house and took a seat next to his son.

“Are you alright? You look pale,” Kes said, studying his son’s face closely.

“The Resistance is on its last leg, Dad. The First Order took out our base on D’Qar. We just barely escaped with our lives. We’re down to almost a quarter of what we had before and the First Order just seems to be getting stronger. Hell, they were able to track us through lightspeed.” Kes shook his head and frowned back at Poe.

“I heard about the Hosnian System. A weapon of that power . . .”

“I know, which is why it’s such a good thing we took it out when we did. But the First Order is getting stronger every passing minute, and we’re losing steam.”

“Well, there’s always a light, you just can’t see it all the time. Don’t lose your hope, son.”

“I won’t. I never will,” Poe said, smiling a little. “But I need some help.”

“Coming to your old man for advice?” Poe laughed and shook his head.

“A little more than advice. General Organa will be here later with a few other members of the Resistance. She wants to set up a temporary base here.”

“Here?”

“Yes. We have plans to set up base on Serenno, but Leia doesn’t fully trust their count yet.”

“I didn’t realize she had any kind of relationship with Serenno.”

“She doesn’t,” Poe sighed, throwing his arm over the back of his chair, “It’s Y/N’s connection.”

“Y/N? As in your Y/N?” Kes asked. Poe laughed softly and nodded his head.

“Yes, although, she’s not mine.”

“Not anymore,” Kes said with a frown. Instead of divulging into that with his father, Poe continued on.

“Leia doesn’t trust him just yet and wants to set up a more secure base here until a better, more permanent location can be found.”

“But we already had a base here,” Kes said with a shake of his head, “The First Order knows that.”

“She wants to run operations here, right here. Nothing too big. We just need to start rallying the troops for a big fight, whenever that’s going to happen. Hopefully, we’ll be out of your hair fairly soon, but as it stands now, this is our best bet.”

“Alright,” Kes said after a long pause.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you,” Poe said, clapping his father’s shoulder. The Dameron men stood up and started walking towards the front door, going to find their forgotten guests.

“I didn’t realize Y/N was working with the Resistance again,” Kes said as he opened the door.

“She was going to do some campaigning for us, start to get us some more help, right before everything went to shit. She was on base when the First Order attacked.” Kes nodded as he followed his son into the kitchen to get drinks for everyone.

“And how’s that going?”

“The same,” Poe said, glancing at him briefly.

“What about tall, dark, and blue-skinned out there? Just by one look, I can see that she cares about you a great deal.”

“Sura? No, we’re friends, just friends. We’ve always been best like that,” Poe said, shaking his head, “I met her in the navy.”

“So, you’ve got a history,” Kes said, carrying a tray of drinks to the living room.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Poe muttered under his breath.

His friends looked tired as he took them all in, spread out along his father’s couches. Suralinda looked like she was about to fall asleep on Jessika’s shoulder. Jess was bruised and had dried blood all over her but was somehow still managing to keep her head up. Snap had his arm firmly around Karé, as if he was never going to let her go again. They were all exhausted, but when he came into the room, their spirits lifted.

They thanked Kes for the drinks and went on telling him what happened, including Poe’s daring rescue. Kes nudged his son with his knee, and Poe knew that he was thinking of his mother. Once they had a chance to catch their breaths and catch up, Poe got to work with his squadron on unloading the few supplies they were able to take from Ikkrukk. As they worked, The Millennium Falcon landed near their ships an hour later.

“Welcome to Yavin-4, Dameron properties,” Poe said ceremoniously, jogging to the ramp as Leia exited the Falcon. She rolled her eyes and took his outstretched hand.

“How’s your father?” she asked, walking with him towards the house.

“Good. Ready to help.”

“Good,” she said, patting his cheek.

“Leia.” Both Poe and Leia turned to the front door and saw Kes standing with a sad smile on his face.

“Hello, Kes.”

“It’s good to see you, Leia,” he said as he stepped down the few steps of his home. He wrapped Leia in a tight hug.

“You too,” she said, smiling up at him. “Can I see it?”

“Of course.”

Poe followed them around back where Kes led Leia to the Force tree he and Shara Bey had planted when Poe was young. The seedling had turned into a giant tree, much larger than the one that was tattooed on Poe’s back.

“Oh, I miss her. I wish she could see all of this,” Leia said, touching a hand to her chest. “Well, maybe not all of it, but the good parts.”

“I know,” Kes said, looking thoughtfully up at the tree, “But she’s here. Part of her will always be.” Leia nodded and looked back at Poe. She gave him a smile as he wiped away a tear that had dared to fall from his eye.

“Come on, there’s no time for sadness right now. We’ve got planning to do. Kes, I want to introduce you to a few of our new friends.”

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The flight to Yavin-4 had been a smooth one, but the entire ride your stomach had been in knots. It wasn’t every day that you saw your ex-father-in-law for the first time since breaking your ex-husband’s heart and the thought of doing so had you in a puddle of anxiety. As you departed the Millennium Falcon, you peered around the all too familiar farm, looking for a trace of either Dameron. Even though you had seen him only a day or so ago, you really missed Poe and needed to see his face.

Everyone who had come to Yavin-4 had begun to move around, talking with the rough looking Black Squadron and getting acquainted with the jungle. You looked at the house, unchanged from the last time you had been here years ago. Even with everyone coming in and out of it in a hurry, it was as warm and welcoming as ever. You smiled gently looking at it, and as your mind wandered to some happier memories, you didn’t notice Kes Dameron come up behind you.

“Well, well, well.” You turned slowly, the sleeves on your dress brushing on the jungle floor as you did. If Poe had grown a few inches taller, he would have been the spitting image of his father. He had the curls of Shara Bey, and her spirit for sure, but his looks were only Kes.

“Kes,” you said, smiling sadly.

“Y/N.” He started walking towards you, and you clenched up, worried he was going to scream at you for breaking his only son’s heart. But as he got closer, he matched your smile and embraced you tightly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” you said breathlessly. You relaxed in his arms and hugged him back, taking in his warm scent of leather and cinnamon, and his strong arms that were so much like Poe’s. He pulled away first, and when he did, he held you out at arm’s length.

“Unsurprisingly, you look beautiful,” he said with a kind smile. You could have cried.

“Thank you. It’s so good to see you,” you said again, your voice cracking a little. He nodded in agreement and smiled.

“How are you?”

“I’m alright.” You looked into his eyes for too long; the eyes that were so much like his son’s. “I— I’m sorry for . . .” you trailed off, unsure of where to start, “For everything.”

“I know,” he said, frowning. “Me too.”

“Dad?” You both looked to the house and saw Poe looking at the two of you wide-eyed. You nodded his way and Kes left you to speak with his son. As they did, Poe kept glancing over at you.

It was so strange to be back here with the way things were. Once so sure of it, you had no idea what your place was here. Poe clapped his father’s shoulder as the elder Dameron walked inside and Poe strolled across the grounds.

“Hey,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m so glad to see you safe.”

“Me too,” he said with a smile, “They’re getting ready to start the debriefing in there.” He nodded towards the house and when you didn’t respond, he started to walk towards it. But when he saw that you didn’t move, he stopped. Your eyes were trailing over him, checking for any signs of injury. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, taking a step towards him, “My parents are alive.”

“What? That’s great,” Poe said with a smile.

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“They were on Serenno when the Hosnian System was destroyed.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” he said again. You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “What is it?” he asked, taking a step towards you.

“Nothing,” you said, feeling a tear streak from your eye. He touched your forearm, standing a few inches away from you. “Just— When your dad hugged me, he really hugged me,” you said. Poe frowned as he pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead. He hugged you tightly, tighter than his father had.

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked, looking at you seriously. You scoffed and shook your head, pulling out of his arms.

“He should hate me.”

“Y/N,” he started. He brought you back in his arms, holding you firm to his chest as he looked in your eyes.

“You both should.”

“No one can ever hate you, Y/N,” he said, looking at you seriously. “And it’s a good thing, him hugging you, that’s a good thing.” You wiped at your tears and nodded. “Why were your parents on Serenno?”

“You know why,” you said with a sigh. He nodded sadly. “We should probably get to that meeting.”

“We know what they’re going to say.”

“We shouldn’t be the only ones missing,” you said, taking in a breath as you broke from his arms and walked towards the house. Poe followed one step behind you. As the two of you entered, you found your friends gathered in the living room. Nové was now sitting next to Jessika, with Jess leaning against her shoulder this time. They both smiled at you and you took a seat on the couch next to them. Poe went to stand by his father, whispering something to him as Leia began her debriefing.

Everyone agreed that they couldn’t put their faith in Lin Ral. You tried not to be hurt by that, but the fact that they didn’t trust your judgment stung. Tomorrow, the remaining ground troops would head to the old base of the rebellion, led by both Damerons. You needed to head back to Serenno as soon as possible, Leia instructed, to get started on rebuilding the Republic, but also to squash any suspicion the rest of the Resistance may have.

You argued for checking on Naboo, but Leia confirmed your worse fear. Without the Resistance’s supplies and the lack of contact from Naboo, they couldn’t risk a blind reconnaissance mission. Leia encouraged you and Nové to keep reaching out, but until a connection could be made, you were stuck with the Resistance.

As she wrapped up her debriefing, Poe and Kes told everyone about the schematics of the house and instructed where the supplies could be held. The ranch would make a good base for the small number of people that were still with the Resistance, but if their numbers grew as they hoped, it couldn’t hold everyone. That problem was soon actualized as night fell over the jungle.

The day had been spent mapping out strategies and establishing the base around the Dameron homestead, and when night fell, no one wanted to fly back to Serenno. Rooms were divided up amongst the group, but it was clear that there wouldn’t be enough. Poe offered up his old room to Leia, who by all accounts needed the most rest. She argued for a moment, but eventually conceded. Snap and Karé took one of the guest beds, and Sura and Jess offered to sleep on the couches in that room. Eventually, all inhabitable places were taken up, including some back on the Falcon, until the only two left were you and Poe.

“My lady, we need to find somewhere for you to sleep,” Nové said, coming to stand by your side.

“I’ll be fine wherever. I can just take a space on the—”

“You know, I think there’s still that cot up in the attic,” Kes said, stepping up to join your discussion.

“Perfect,” you said, a little reluctantly. Kes had a similar glow in his eyes that Poe got when he had a plan that usually ended up getting you into some kind of trouble.

“It’s up in the attic, behind some boxes, can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” You looked to Nové, who had also yet to be assigned a sleeping place. “What about you?” She smirked and pulled you aside as everyone left in the room started to clear out.

“Jess and I were thinking about camping out tonight,” she said.

“Oh my god,” you said, part excited, part worried. “Is that safe? Are you a thing now? I— I have a million questions, but you’ve got a date it seems like,” you said, stopping yourself as she frowned at you.

“You’ll be alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think I can find my way around the house.” She smiled and gave your hand a squeeze. Jessika appeared in the doorway and looked at Nové lovingly. You gave her a shove towards the door and made your way upstairs. You walked past Poe’s old room and stopped in your tracks.

“Y/N.” You took a step inside and found Leia sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were heavy, like everyone’s hearts. She waved you inside and you crept in carefully, taking in the room that hadn’t changed in years. “Find a place to stay?”

“Yeah, there’s a cot in the attic with my name on it.”

“A cot for a queen?” she questioned with a laugh.

“I was never a queen here,” you said, walking back towards the door.

“No,” Leia said thoughtfully. “If you see Poe, thank him for the room. It was very kind of him.”

“I will, but I’m not sure I’ll see him before you,” you said, crinkling your eyebrows. Leia smiled and nodded her head.

“Perhaps not. But if you do, let him know.”

“I will. Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, walking back out of the room.

“Goodnight.”

You found the ladder that led up to the attic down the hall. You gathered your skirt in your hands and took a step on the first rung carefully. You got six rungs up before you slipped. Just as you saw the flooring of the attic, you started to fall back down to the floor, only to have a strong hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you upright.

“You okay?” You looked up into Poe’s dreamy eyes and smiled.

“Yeah.” He slid his hand up a little and grasped yours as he pulled you up into the attic. You straightened your dress and looked around the room. The cot had been pulled out and covered with a blanket and pillow from the couch downstairs. “What are you doing up here?” you asked.

“I just wanted to make sure you found everything,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t think there’s much to find,” you said, motioning to the cot.

“Did you check behind the boxes, though?” Poe asked, a mischievous smile on his face. You raised an eyebrow as you walked around the boxes to find the small fort of pillows and blankets that Poe had laid out for you.

You took in a breath and looked back at him. He took a step forward, wrapping his arm around your lower waist. You looked up into his eyes and tilted your chin just slightly. He laughed gently and leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you. He put a hand on your cheek as he deepened the kiss and pulled you in closer. You stood entwined for the next few minutes, slowly and passionately letting your mouths get reacquainted.

He pulled away, looking at you with a sexy smile on his face.

“I know we were going to find a bed,” he said, looking down at the fort of blankets he had made, “But I did the best I could with the time.” You laughed and gave his hand a squeeze.

“It’s perfect. I’m just not sure now is the right time,” you said. He frowned at you and let out a sigh. “I mean, everyone is in the house—”

“And they won’t hear us,” he said, looking into your eyes. “You have to go back to Serenno tomorrow. I don’t know when we’ll have a better chance.” You smiled gently and nodded your head, tilting your head to kiss him again. “It’s really comfy, too,” he said, pulling away a second later, smiling at you.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to check it out to see if I believe you,” you said, looking at him flirtatiously as you sat down carefully on the bed he had made on the floor. He laughed at you softly, smiling down at you as he sat down across from you.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, leaning in closely.

“I think it’s great,” you said, touching his cheek as you pulled him in for a gentle kiss. The soft orange light of the room cast shadows on his face, highlighting some of your favorite features. The only light in the room was a lamp in the far corner, leaving the two of you in moody, romantic shadows.

“I’m glad you’re here. That we’re here together,” he said.

“Me too,” you said, kissing him again. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in close. He kissed you delicately, but there was an urgency in his lips. He nipped at your lower lip as his hands played with the fabric cinching your waist. Your hands found their place on his broad frame, holding onto his shoulders as he pulled you in closer, right into his lap.

You laughed about the awkward position you found yourself in and looked into his eyes. They were dark, darker than they were normally. There was a fire in them, beckoning you forward. Just before you leaned in to kiss him again, giving yourself to him fully, you pulled away, looking at his eyes which were already shut. He opened them again and cocked his eyebrow just slightly.

“What?” he asked.

“I’ve missed you. Missed this,” you said airily. He smiled out of the corner of his mouth, his perfect mouth, his perfect smile.

“Did you ever think about me?” he asked huskily.

“Baby,” you said, biting your lip, “Thinking of you kept me up all night.” His tongue crossed beneath his bottom lip as the smile from before spread across his face.

“God, come here,” he said, gripping your waist tighter. You laugh and found his lips again, your arms wrapping around his neck as you entwined. He leaned into you, making you relax onto your back, slowly backing up until you were on the pillows. He pulled away from you once you were laid down, making you whine.

“Just, hang on,” he said with a grin. You rolled your eyes, watching him eagerly as he threw his shirt across the room, giving you full view of his muscular chest and back, including the giant Force tree tattoo covering his back. Poe had a couple of tattoos. The biggest was the Force tree on his back. On his left forearm he had his parents named tattooed in small Aurebesh letters. On that same arm, on his bicep, he had the Galactic Republic logo. As he threw off his shirt, he flexed his arms beautifully.

“Poe,” you complained, making him laugh.

“I’m right here,” he said gently, crawling back towards you. He found your lips again, eagerly waiting for his as you again cupped his face. He pulled away before you would have liked, making you complain again. “Hang on,” he said, his hands trailing down your body until they rested on your hips. You looked at him curiously as he gave you a mischievous look. He slowly started to pull up the fabric of your dress, until the skirt was gathered around your hips.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he thumbed at your underwear.

“Just want to make sure you have something to think about at night,” he said, pulling them off quickly. The draft of the attic sent goosebumps across your skin as Poe came back to you.

He made you spread your legs, giving him a perfect view of you. He smiled at you as he locked his fingers in yours, laying down on his stomach. He looked at you devilishly before his lips found the folds in between your legs. You let out a sigh as he slowly started to work his magic. He licked one stripe up your core, eliciting a loud moan from you.

“Hey, they might hear us if you’re that loud,” he said, pulling away with a grin. You nodded your head and watched him as he went back to his work, his eyes never leaving yours. He was going to make you wait for it as his tongue started to dash around your clit. He knew what he was doing as he laughed delicately between your legs at the sounds you were trying and failing to keep in. He sucked on your clit for a few seconds, loving as you thrashed beneath him and whined his name.

“God, Poe,” you moaned, your hips bucking slightly as you approached your end.

“I know, baby,” he said, pulling away from your warmth. You frowned at him, your hands still clenched in his. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he stuck a finger inside of you, dropping your hand at your hip. You moaned when he added another finger and started curling them in the way that absolutely drove you insane, and covered your mouth with your hand. His fingers were continuous, pumping into you as he brought his glorious lips back to your center. His thick eyelashes nearly shadowed his eyes as he went back to tongue fucking you, but never quite hid his dark eyes from yours.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he said when you started to close them. Your orgasm was coming soon, and it was hard to keep your eyes open. But watching Poe between your legs, his fingers so deep inside of you, and the sexy look in his eyes, you absolutely were not going to disobey him.

His moves were continuous, driving you crazy with each flick of his fingers, or touch of his lips. You squeezed his hand as the pleasure began to take hold of you. You could feel him smile in between your legs as he squeezed your hand back.

“Oh my god, Poe,” you moaned, your legs twitching around him as you neared your end. His hand moved from yours, gripping your thigh to keep your legs spread as he continued to eat you out.

“That’s right, baby. Say my name again,” he said, pulling away for a second to leave a few kisses on your inner thigh.

“Yes, Poe,” you said breathlessly, smirking back at him. “Please.”

“Say it,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Poe, please.” His nose scrunched in a smile as he bit down on your thigh before going back in between your legs, licking and sucking and fingering you until you came with a loud cry. You completely forgot about staying quiet, and Poe quickly put a hand over your lips. You came down slowly, biting his palm to keep from crying out as he finished you off. He came back to your lips, smiling as he did so, and kissed you. You could taste yourself on his lips and it only made you kiss him longer.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pulling away for air. He shrugged humbly, making you laugh. “It wasn’t always like that, was it?” you asked.

“With you?” he asked with a gentle smile. “Always.” You shook your head lovingly as you kissed him again. He started to kiss you deeper, but you pulled away. “What?”

“Hang on,” you said, standing. He repositioned himself on the blankets, leaning up against the wall as he watched you. Locking eyes, you dropped the silky dress from your shoulders, letting it fall at your feet. Poe’s eyes shined hungrily as you walked back towards him.

“Take off your pants,” you instructed. He nodded and quickly did, tossing them over with his shirt. You giggled as you sat down in his lap, looking at him softly.

“Hi,” he said, putting his hands on your waist. You could feel him hard beneath you.

“Hi,” you said with a laugh.

“Have I ever told you how fantastic you are?” he asked, pulling you in close.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,” you whispered in his ear, keeping your body close to his. “And if anyone is fantastic, my love, it’s you.” He looked at you, his eyes warming at your words.

You smiled and repositioned yourself, letting him slide into you. You let out a gasp, making Poe beam. He let you get situated around him before gripping your waist. Your arms went around his shoulders, your fingers resting on the large tattoo covering his back. You started grinding into his body slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his as you did. He bit his lip, daring you to pick up your pace. You started going faster, still keeping your eyes locked as you moaned at the feeling of him inside of you, knowing that it was getting to him, too.

You clawed at his back as your body started to heat up, feeling him fill you up so fully. He planted a kiss to your lips every few thrusts, and as your hand trailed up to his curls and pulled gently, he let out a beautiful moan.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he said, pulling you into his chest. He licked your neck and as you let out a gasp, bit down. Your breath got caught in your throat and with his lips on your neck, you forgot what you were doing. “Come on now, don’t stop,” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded as you moaned, thrusting your hips back into his. He always loved the sounds you made, and this time was no different. He gripped your hips harder, taking over control as he felt you start to lose rhythm. His thrusts were much harder, much more deliberate as he bit your shoulder to keep from crying out with you. Every moan you made incited one from him. You had to keep quiet, knowing that there wasn’t much keeping you from the people sleeping downstairs, but it was difficult to do with the way you were both feeling.

His hand gripped your waist impossibly tight as color rushed into his cheeks. His skin was hot against yours as he forced your movements, making sure to keep you doing exactly what he wanted you to do. He was nearing his end, holding onto any part of your body, squeezing tight as he let out a cry. He came inside of you, slowing his rhythm. You laughed once he had come down, watching his face react to the changing feelings.

“Alright, now you,�� he said, quickly flipping you over. Your back landed on the blankets surrounding you, making you let out a gasp of air. Poe’s lips found yours again, leaving hot, passionate kisses as he slid back inside of you. Again, you gasped, his mouth trailing over your jaw as you did. He started pounding into you, not caring about going slow this time. You gasped and moaned and called out his name at each thrust, sending him into another wave of pleasure as you finished around him. You both cried out, holding onto each other for a few more minutes.

Once you were done, you both fell back onto the blankets, catching your breaths. Poe’s hand found yours before you even looked at each other. They laced at your hips, where he drew circles on your skin. You looked over at him, his hair in messy curls. He actually took your breath away.

“Hi,” you said, making him laugh gently.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said, moving in closer to you. He kissed your forehead, pushing back your own messy locks.

“That was—” you stopped, clearing your throat which was scratchy from gasping and crying out Poe’s name all night. “That was amazing.”

“I know,” he said with a grin, pulling you into his chest. You hummed and kissed his chest, looking up at him. “What?” he asked with a laugh.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head, “There’s just so much to do.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about now?”

“I can’t help it,” you said with a gentle laugh and a shrug. “This was a good distraction, though.”

“I could distract you some more, if you’d like,” he said with a smirk.

“Poe.”

“I know,” he said, putting his hand over yours on his chest.

“I need to know what happened on Naboo,” you said quietly.

“What, are you going to fly yourself out there?” he asked. It was a joke, but you recoiled a little. His smile dropped as he gripped your shoulder tighter. “I know you want to know, but we can’t risk it now.”

“But if we could save Naboo, they would be one of the greatest allies we could get,” you said, taking his hands pleadingly.

“I know, but there’s nothing we can do right now.” You sighed. He pulled you into a strong hug and tenderly kissed your shoulder. You looked up at him, your fingers tracing over the scruff on his chin. He had the most beautiful pout on his lips. You were falling in love with him all over again.

You took his face in your hands, holding him carefully as you looked into his eyes. He smiled out of the corner of his mouth and leaned in to bring his lips to yours. He hummed as he deepened the kiss and his hand traveled down to your thigh. It was like he needed every part of your body on him, right now and always. He pulled away for air first, but never took his eyes off of you. You resettled in his arms, staring off at the pile of boxes blocking you from the entrance of the attic.

“Is this where you used to take your romantic conquests back in the day?” you asked, running your hand up and down his chest.

“You know, I don’t even remember what it was like to be with anyone but you.”

“Poe,” you said gently. He rolled you onto your back and looked at you lovingly, a small smile tugging at his gorgeous lips. He lowered himself to kiss you. You cupped his face and kissed him back, taking him in. The scruff of his cheeks, the brushing of his nose against yours, the gentle hums he made as he kept you guessing his next movement. Everything about him was perfect and you would have let him do anything in that moment until a sound made you pull away.

“What was that?” you asked, pushing him off as you heard a buzzing come from the opposite side of the room. Poe’s face was slightly smushed by your hand on his lips, but he still frowned at you.

“Ignore it,” he said, kissing your fingers and coming back to your lips.

“Just, hold on,” you said into his lips, pushing him up. He sighed and sat up straight, reaching for his pants. You grabbed your dress off the floor and quickly pulled it back on as you walked back to the entrance of the attic. On the floor was the commlink you had forgotten when you got into the attic. It was vibrating against the wooden floor, and not for the first time that night, your breath was taken away.

“What is it?” Poe asked, walking over towards you.

“Naboo.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron smut #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfic #sw #sw imagine #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #return to me

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stillchaoticlogic · 4 years

Text

Such a Tease: Chapter 1

Pairing: (Aged) Gary/Blue Oak x Reader

Summary: After a tragedy, you make the decision to quit your career as a trainer and focus on breeding Pokemon for the general population. You are one of the best in the region. You aren’t expecting the have to deal with your childhood rival and crush suddenly popping back into your life. After all, Gary Oak broke your heart and now you are determined to break his… or are you?

NOTES:*This is my very first pokemon story written many many years ago. I’ve decided to revamp it and see what happens! I hope you enjoy a little Gary / Blue love! I will kinda be combing the anime and game versions and I may or may not have just bought the manga to read… It will kinda be my take on these characters. Ash may become more like Red, but I haven’t really decided yet… I’m just having fun with this!*

Getting Started The alarm sounds much too soon for anyone’s liking and groggily you roll over and hit snooze. Too bad that doesn’t work. The annoying jingling in your ear continues much to your half-asleep dismay, finally opening your eyes you see the source of the noise at such a forsaken time of the morning it’s coming from Jingle Bells your Chimecho. You sigh in exasperation at her before hauling yourself up out of bed making her promptly stop. You roll your eyes as she merely floats in front of you staring up at you with devious innocence; you swear she has been hanging around Missy, your Mismagius for far too long. You yawn as you make your way past her into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

You had spent all of last night moving into your new center and you were dead. Jingle has been your faithful companion and alarm clock for years at this point, but perhaps she is a little overzealous at times. Especially when it’s five o’clock in the morning and the world isn’t even awake yet.

After you have prepared yourself for a day of decorating, arranging, unpacking and sorting, you head down the stairs to the oversized kitchen, which you soon realize has yet to be stocked. Upon this realization, your tummy comes to the conclusion that it needs something and now; so to alert you to such feelings it lets out a rather large growl. You sigh for the umpteenth time this morning and grab your purse and keys as you head out the door. Lady saunters after you, since she isn’t ever too far behind, taking her sweet time to meander out the door at her dignified pace. You merely chuckle at her and close the door behind her when she finally reaches the outside. As you begin your walk to the town she matches her pace with yours easily.

Looking down at her you say, “Alright Lady dear, how about we stop at that café I saw in town for breakfast then over to the store? We’ll do some shopping to get us in the mood for decorating!”

“Espi!” she exclaims in agreement as the two of you continue through the gardens toward the forest.

You love the location of your breeding center you must admit. It is rather beautiful and so private. A decent size of the forest had been cleared to make room for it, but you made sure that all the wood that was cleared went to building something. Even a natural spring ran through your property down to a pond that was surrounded by trees and flowers. Flower gardens add to the picturesque front of the house which is at least 3 stories high with a basement as well. Of course, your house will also be housing your staff and several of your Pokémon so you had to have a large house.

The back of the house wasn’t anything less breathtaking with herb and vegetable gardens for cooking purposes as well as medical. Off to the right side, a massive barn looking structure would be the home of the Pokémon that you would be breeding and training. The entire grounds were enclosed with a high-security system, invisible to the naked eye and impossible to enter or leave except at the designated locations. Oh yes, it is quite a sight to behold and it better be for what you have invested in it. This is your one shot at your dream. You hope that it works considering all of your earnings, winnings, and savings had gone into this sucker.

The sun played through the canopy of the trees as you and Lady make your way to town. Neither of you cares about the time or the distance, after all, the two of you have been travelers for so long that such things have merely become irrelevant. The relaxing silence is what you need considering the hustle and bustle of the past few days. Getting moved in has been an experience all in itself one you don’t need for quite some time.

The tunnel of trees ends and you are greeted with the sight of Route one and merely ten feet away, Viridian City. The city has grown since your departure several years prior and you rather like the changes made. You allow your memory to lead you to the café you saw while walking through town a few days ago. It’s a cozy place full of big comfy couches and armchairs as well as outdoor tables and chairs under a gazebo. The lighting was bright from the rays coming in through the various windows and skylights. You could see various plants and such growing in the flower beds that surround it giving it a cheery vibe. Upon entering you make your way up to the counter and begin to look up at the drinks posted up on the sign as well as the array of sweet cakes and such that line the pastry case before you.

“Hi! How are you today?” chirps the girl behind the counter, how she chirps at six in the morning you will never know, but appreciate the sentiment anyway.

“I’m good, thanks,” You answer with a pleasant smile.

“So, what can I get for you?”

After you have placed your order and gotten something for Lady as well you make your way over to a table in the corner by a window. You begin to people watch as you sit in a more or less daze just taking in the town.

“Are you new to town?” interrupts a voice beside you.

“Huh?” you question turning to see the girl from behind the counter cleaning a nearby table. She smiles pleasantly and repeats the question.

“Oh, I’m from Pallet town originally, but have been traveling for the past fifteen years. I’ve just recently decided to move back to start my own breeding center.”

“OH!!! So you’re the owner of that new breeding center on Route One! That is sooo cool!!! I’ve always wanted to be a Pokémon breeder just like my brother. And one day I will, but right now I don’t even have a Pokémon.” You frown at how her excitement became disappointment so quickly.

“Well, I do own a breeding center…. And I do need help… And I do have plenty of Pokémon….”

She turns to you her eyes getting very wide with each statement you make.

“Really!? Do you really mean what I think you mean?!?!”

“Well do you have any experience at all with Pokémon?”

“Yeah! My brother taught me a lot!! He’s a great breeder, but he has been traveling for a while trying to get more rare Pokémon to breed. So, I haven’t really got to see him a lot.”

“That’s ok, stop by sometime tomorrow and we’ll see about getting you a job. I’m going to see how you do with some of the Pokémon before I do though ok?”

“Ok!! That sounds great!! Oh! I need to get back to work. Bye, see you tomorrow!!”

You smile and nod at the enthusiastic girl as she runs off behind the counter to serve the next customer. You are a little surprised to find a guy already sitting on the other side of the café sipping his coffee and reading the morning paper with an Umbreon sitting to his right eyeing your Espeon with interest. Lady merely ignores him as she continues to eat the bit of pastry you had given her for breakfast.

“You’re such a heartbreaker Lady,” you chuckle as you glance back over to the Umbreon only to see who his trainer is.

One: Gary Oak.

At the mere sight of him, you are quite sure that every ounce of maturity, intelligence, grace, and confidence that you had collected over the past fifteen years dissolves in a vat of childish hopes and dreams that were crushed beneath his foot. You swallow hard at the feelings swirling around inside of you at the sight of him. Fighting hard against them, you make it a point to get up and leave, slipping your sunglasses on in the process to avoid any unnecessary conflict. Lady sensing your discomfort leaps upon your shoulder and glares both the male and his Umbreon down the whole way out the door. You sigh in relief, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, the moment you are out of sight of the café, your shoulders relax allowing you to calm yourself down. Lady looks up at you questioningly, concern and confusion laced in the waves she is sending you. You look down and smile in reassurance at your best friend, knowing that no matter what happens she will always be there for you.

Shaking off the surprise from seeing the boy who broke your fifteen-year-old heart you continue your day as planned. Lady helps you pick out the decor, sheet sets, and curtains. Thankfully you have already picked out appliances and you don’t need to worry about them. You head to the store to stock up on groceries and giggle when Lady levitates snacks she likes into the cart. You roll your eyes at her antics but allow her to indulge all the same.

A very sincere part of you can’t get Gary out of your head though. You had adored him when you were younger, definitely against your better judgment. He was arrogant and stuck up, but he was smart, cool and confident as well. As he gained success as a trainer you had just fallen for him even more. Five years after setting out on your journey you ran into him at a competition and worked up the nerve to ask him out. Not only had he rejected you but he had laughed in your face. To this day you recall the embarrassment you felt as you ran from his jeers.

Despite the passage of time, you still felt like that fifteen-year-old today when you saw him in the cafe. You groan as you roll your eyes at yourself.

“What is wrong with you?! You went on to be one of the strongest trainers in the region! You are considered one of the best in the business. You don’t care about some stupid boy.”

With a final nod of your head indicating that this internal conversation is over you focus on getting Gary Oak out of your head onto the task at hand. You have a lot to do and you don’t have time to worry about him.

Notes: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I’m pretty excited about revamping this story. Please like reblog and comment to show some love!

#pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon scenarios #pokemon imagines #blue oak #green oak #gary oak #gary oak x reader #blue oak x reader #blue oak x you #blue x you #blue x reader #green x reader #green oak x reader #green oak x you

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aliceslantern · 3 years

Text

Grow, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 13--Epilogue

Suddenly human and abandoned in the Keyblade Graveyard, Demyx struggles to survive and come to terms with what his life is. Only by chance is he saved from exposure, and brought to Radiant Garden to recover. Unsure of who he is and where to even begin, Demyx finds a kindred spirit in Ienzo, and before long finds perhaps he isn't the only one lost in this new life. But how can they move forward with so much holding them back?

Roughly canonverse, Zemyx, hurt/comfort. Started for Zemyx day (9/6). Updates Wednesdays until it's done.

Chapter summary: Edym and Ienzo continue to grow.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses.

The more time passed, the more trickling memories came back. The picture Edym got was never clear , exactly. More like brief flashes of insight. Fighting Heartless with his sister. Getting his ass kicked again and again.

Learning music.

It was their mother that taught him, that suggested maybe he shouldn’t follow in Elrena’s footsteps. Edym had always heard music in things, found himself gravitating towards it. Once it was well and truly in his life, it was like a hole had been filled.

But the more insight Edym had into Elrena, the angrier and more hurt he felt about how Larxene had treated Demyx. They’d both been amnesiac, but how or why had that relationship mutated to hatred? Had something else happened? Did she just feel that betrayed by him not joining her?

Would he ever know?

For a long while his life fell into a steady--mostly pleasant--rhythm. Work, gardening, time with Ienzo. It was all so painfully ordinary. Not that Edym minded that, at all. Waking up next to him was worth all the pain he’d gone through.

The others gradually got used to his presence, their relationship. The more Edym thought about it, the less he really wanted to find the place that was once home--especially if it meant leaving Ienzo. Maybe someday they would live in their own little house, with a cat or a dog. With or near friends. But for now… what they had was fine as it is. There was no need to rush into anything serious.

Edym and Ienzo… began to grow.

It was hard to leave behind that time in the Organization, especially because so much of Edym’s sense of self came from Demyx. And Ienzo had spent the majority of his childhood as a Nobody. Figuring out who they were and what humanity all meant was dazzling and confusing. The more his flickers of memories came back, the stranger Edym felt. He’d been soft, but he’d also been so young . He knew something awful had happened to their home, and, more likely, it had all happened a lot longer ago than anyone thought. But how, or why, Xemnas had found them was anyone’s guess.

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do to help,” Even told him. “Aside from patiently waiting for those memories to come back… we can’t look into what happened to your world without knowing what it’s called.”

Edym knew this was true. It still put a sour seed in his chest. He thought of his sister, of Larxene. Harder still to grieve someone who was likely alive. But where was she? How would she feel seeing him again? Did she even care?

“I know it’s easier said than done,” Ienzo said softly, one night after they made love. “But you have to stop torturing yourself.”

“I know. I’m trying. I just…”

“Want closure.”

“Well. Yeah.” Don’t you ? He almost asked.

“I know. I wish I could… take that pain from you.”

“I just have this feeling that she’s alive, and I-- even if we just… hash things out, I don’t know.”

“I can’t say I relate totally,” Ienzo said. “But I know how it is to… lose people to the unknown.”

“Your parents?”

He nodded. “I scarcely have any memory of them anymore. My memories used to be so--achingly sharp.” He touched his brow. “Now, not so much. To take a page from Ansem’s book… if you’re meant to find each other again, you will. You have to trust in that.”

“You really believe that?”

He sighed, and smiled. “Call me crazy, but I do.” Ienzo kissed him. “Want some tea?”

---

Time passed. Edym kept waiting for the other shoe to drop--for things to get complicated and messy again. But they didn’t. Even eventually replaced the other kidney. He grew closer to the members of the restoration committee, became friends with them. When Scrooge offered him the opportunity to manage the post office instead of just work it, he took it. It felt nice to do something that had a positive impact, for once.

He was sweeping up one day after close when he heard the doorbell. They’d recently moved shop away from the strange little bazaar into their own building. “Sorry, we’re closed. Drop your mail in the box outside. I’ll handle it first thing.”

“Look at you, a cog in the machine.”

Edym froze. Very slowly, he turned.

“...Don’t look at me like that. Whose idea were the glasses? Almost makes you look not stupid.”

He made a strange noise. “How did you--when--I--”

Elrena looked tired, her skin sallow. “It’s a long and ultimately very boring story,” she said. She picked up a book of stamps, looked at it with something like distaste, and set it down. She was still wearing the black coat, he noticed. “Xigbar didn’t bite it, you know.”

He gripped at his elbow. “Yeah. I know. He almost killed me.”

“Really? I thought there was a--I don’t know. Rapport, or something, between you two. He was one of the only ones who could stand you.”

Edym blinked. Seeing her, he felt something a whole lot more complicated than he thought. Not relief. Not happiness. “So he found you and brought you here?”

“...Something like that. He said this was where you ended up.”

Edym shook his head slowly. “You wanted to see me?”

She smirked. “Call me sentimental, but yeah, I did. Was wicked weird when I found out. Lauriam just thought it was hilarious. Marluxia,” she clarified.

“So he’s around too.” Edym set the broom aside. “Well. Good for him, I guess.”

There was a pause. Elrena cleared her throat. “You’re going to snitch about Xigbar, aren’t you?”

“Probably. Yeah.”

“...Is it bad I kind of want you to?”

“More pot stirring?”

“More pot stirring.” She grinned. “It’s what I do best.”

“So what are you two doing with him, anyway?”

“Honestly? I’m not completely sure. But I’m helping Lauriam look for someone, and then after that… well. The World is our oyster.”

Without ceremony, Edym said, “Stelitzia.”

“Oh, you remembered that much?”

Woodenly, he nodded.

“Lauriam thought he remembered someone getting her killed. But considering that nobody in this fucking world seems to stay dead… well.” She shrugged.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

She dropped her eyes. “Like I said. All this talk of his sister… had me feeling sentimental. And that’s so not cool. I thought if I saw you it’d stop.”

“Did it?”

“Don’t know.”

Edym let out a slow breath. “How long are you in town?”

“Not long.” She took another few steps towards him. “If you want, you can come with us.”

He laughed. “No. No way in hell. Sorry.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Why would you want me anyway?”

“You could see her again.”

Edym put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want to leave what I have here. I… I’m happy, you know? I feel like I’m… starting to finally do more good things than bad. My life is here. Whatever we had before, as kids. I don’t think it was a life.”

Her eyes darkened. “No,” she said in a low voice. “It wasn’t.”

“You could have a life here too,” he said. “Or… not here, anywhere you want. You don’t have to go along with Lauriam and Xigbar. You could choose.” He offered his hand, and for a breath thought she might take it.

Elrena smirked. Shook her head. “Nah,” she said. “I’ve got things to do. People to see.”

“And undermine?”

“With any luck.”

Edym nodded. His heart settled in his chest. “Just don’t get yourself killed again,” he said. “And slug Xigbar good for me, okay?”

“Maybe. He does always seem to be asking for it.”

There was a pause, longer than the last. “You’ll be okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I really will.”

“Well, okay. Then I’ll stop worrying.”

“You were worrying ?”

“Come on, Edym. We all know you’re not great at planning for the long term.”

“Maybe I’ve changed.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I should go. My ride’s waiting.” She headed towards the door.

“Wait--Elrena--”

She turned, her lips pursed.

“Why did our Nobodies hate each other so much? Cause I don’t think I hate you now.”

She thought about it for a moment, her teal eyes flashing. “The last time we saw each other, we fought,” she said. “Can’t tell you for my life about what.”

“About the cult,” he said, with clarity.

“The Dandelions,” she corrected.

“I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“And I didn’t want to have to baby my brother.” She shook her head. “Well. Turns out that never happened. You were stuck with me. Maybe I resented that.”

Edym nodded.

“And being a Nobody makes you angry for no reason anyway ,” she said, more lightly. “Does that answer your question?”

“I think so.”

“Then I should go.” For a second, it seemed like she might touch him.

“You have a phone?” he asked.

“What, one of those dumb things? What kinda budget do you think we’re working with?” A grin.

“...Right. Well.” He took a deep breath. “I guess… if I see you, I see you. And if I don’t…”

“Yep.” She put her hand on her hip. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, either.”

“And hey. If I really need something, I’ll just write.” She winked. “Bye, Edym.”

“Bye, Elrena.”

When she left, she didn’t look back.

---

Edym sat heavily on the blanket. His joints hurt from a long day of work. It was his turn to bring the picnic, but instead of cooking, he’d been too tired, so he’d just gotten takeout from Ienzo’s favorite place. He hoped that would suffice.

“I know I’m late,” Ienzo called. “Even was being very--” He cut himself off, his eyes wide. He looked around the courtyard slowly. “When did you have the time--”

“I’ve been here almost all day.” His face flushed.

Ienzo walked around slowly, touching the new plants in their pots. The orchids. The lanterns Edym had hung around the peripherals of the property. He’d tried to repair some of the stonework in the floor, too, but accepted that he was a terrible mason. Ienzo turned to look at him. “Why did you--”

“We’ve been spending a lot of time here. I wanted to… make it nice.” He stood, wincing at the ache in his hips. “Aeleus helped me with this.” He reached over behind the old fountain to turn on the pump.

“This must’ve taken hours--days,” he said. He shook his head. “Edym, I--” He touched one of the orchids. “You even remembered these.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you. It is your birthday,” he pointed out.

Ienzo jerked.

“Did you forget?”

“I did entirely,” he admitted. “Time doesn’t pass in that cursed lab.” He wrinkled his nose. “Thank you.” He leaned in to kiss him. “Really. Thank you.”

He shrugged, the blush in his face getting hotter. “I… liked doing it. Let’s eat, okay?”

They did.

“...You know, you don’t have to work in that lab,” Edym said.

“It has been wearing on me lately,” Ienzo admitted. “But I have to be able to… do good work. Good things. It’s the only way I can sleep at night.”

Edym squeezed his hand. “No need for you to suffer doing something you hate.”

Ienzo shook his head. “I don’t hate it,” he said. “Knowing that I’m doing something worthwhile does feel good.”

“But it’s the coworkers that suck?”

Ienzo grimaced. “Quite. At least Even is at least partially distracted by the research work you’ve given him. He’s been criticizing my coding like his doesn’t look two or three languages behind.”

Edym chuckled.

Ienzo set down his bowl. “You know…” he began. “This life is no longer feeling quite so strange.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“I think so.” He put a hand to his chest. “I was worried that humanity would never feel quite right. Everything still overwhelms me. But… at least that sensation isn’t always negative anymore.”

Edym kissed him. They rested there together for a while longer.

“I mean, this whole mess only began because of my poor self-control,” Ienzo continued.

“ Hey. I don’t think we’re messy .”

“We’re a little messy,” Ienzo said.

“Well. I’m glad that it all happened. I feel like you’ve… helped me.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he said. He sighed. “Hopefully our next mistakes are equally fruitful.”

“Har har.”

Ienzo leaned back against him. For a while, neither of them said anything; they didn’t have to. “Shall we head back?” Ienzo asked. “I could use some--ah--stress relief.”

Edym smirked. “You got it.” He kissed him, longer this time. “Let’s go home.”

#grow #demyx #ienzo #zemyx

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fictorium · 4 years

Note

Lemme take a chance that this very obvious combination may inspire more Supercat ficlets coz I’ve been dying with the feels you’ve been giving me lately. 22, 25, 40. Thanks so much!

22. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

At first Kara assumes it’s another retreat in the mountains ‘diving’ situation. Cat Grant walking out on the White House is a big deal, but in a career like hers it barely breaks the top ten. Everyone speculates about what big move is next, including serious political commentary about whether Cat will run in the next election to unseat Baker.

Instead she just disappears. Off the face of the Earth, it seems.

Since she hasn’t been told otherwise, Kara ignores the chatter as best she can. It’s only natural that she reaches out by text and email to see if she can help spin whatever story Cat would rather have out there, and it definitely hurts when those go unanswered. Just a little. A totally normal amount. For two friends. Mentor and mentee. Former colleagues.

Which is all they are. Were. Can be. Kara’s sure about that. Mostly.

It would just be polite, in a civilized society, to reply to a person’s texts. Even if just to say that what Cat had planned next was less than zero of Kara’s business. Period.

It’s not like she’s mad about it. Anyway.

It’s only when the unthinkable happens almost three weeks in, when the media actually moves on from the Where Is Cat Grant story that they’ve been having so much fun with, that Kara starts to look at the situation differently. Cat can be guarded about her privacy for someone so public, but she usually leaves at least a trail of breadcrumbs to wrongfoot the paparazzi.

The reporter in Kara almost can’t help herself. She has access to almost everything she did as Cat’s assistant--surprisingly, most things on that front haven’t changed--and it only takes a few calls to former colleagues of Cat’s in DC to start picking up the first scent of the mystery.

It’s a mystery that results only in dead ends though, and Kara is so frustrated after days of working on it flat out that she gives in and uses her supersenses for the kind of lead that good journalism just isn’t providing. She’s out of practice and it wouldn’t work if Cat really had gone to the other side of the planet, but she must at least be somewhere on the West Coast judging by how quickly Kara picks up that familiar half-stutter in Cat’s every second heartbeat, the result of a faint murmur she’s had since childhood.

At first it worried Kara, because it sounded a little broken and almost like a warning, but she quickly got used to it working beside Cat all day every day. Now it’s a useful beacon in street after street of heartbeats, none of them quite right. When she does finally, almost frantically, track down that one elusive beat, Kara’s a little startled to discover Cat’s somewhere way out in the desert, with only a handful of other people anywhere nearby.

Kara checks property records and Cat’s accounts to see if there’s some new house in the portfolio, but it’s only tracing a sizeable payment in the thousands to something vaguely labelled on a statement as ‘wellness’ that Kara puts the pieces together.

She should leave it there, when she does. It’s not something she should intrude on. But there’s a website. Full of glossy words and promises and legally-watertight non-guarantees. Kara wants to throw up as she reads more and more of it, of seeing page after page that screams at her for being so far out of the loop, for not being around to see where this was all going.

And mostly, horribly, for being too damn late.

There’s only one thing Kara wants to do now, but the tiny chance of it is entirely dependent on whether Cat will even see her. It’s coming up on 8pm when Kara picks up the phone, and she just hopes that will be reason enough for her call to get answered.

* * *

At least when she gets there, to the mysterious sprawling ranch in the desert, Kara can see that it’s the height of luxury. That much hasn’t changed since Kara’s world flipped upside down over a week ago. The worst part has been not being able to tell a single soul, not even Alex, and the stress of that was only offset by Cat agreeing to see Kara. Today. In exactly 13 minutes to be exact.

Security is tight, but Kara has patience to spare as she goes through step after step to be allowed inside, to once again be accepted into Cat’s inner sanctum. The room that Kara is politely told to wait in is certainly a beautiful space, a courtyard of sorts with sunbleached white walls and the kind of sleek but stuffed garden furniture that costs four times what Kara’s actual furniture was worth, brand new.

There’s a small table with a pitcher of iced tea, so Kara pours a glass and downs it, pouring another right after. It’s distraction enough with the rattling ice that she doesn’t notice Cat’s approach.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” is Cat’s opening shot, and Kara spins around at the sound of her voice.

“I’m not asking for one.”

“Good. And I don’t want a drink, before you offer.” Cat waves a sleek water bottle that she’s holding in one hand, a band from it around her wrist. “I haven’t been drying out in here for weeks only to come out addicted to sugar.”

Well that answers any number of questions Kara doesn’t dare ask. As rehab facilities go, it’s certainly five-star. This is the first day on Cat’s program that she’s been allowed visitors, and Kara is surprised she’s even there. It would be terrible to blow it, to have Cat throw her out before they even sit down.

“You look good,” Kara says instead, taking a seat on the large bench that dominates one wall. Cat considers for a moment, then joins her. She has large sunglasses in place, but there’s no evidence of makeup on her skin. Her hair has none of its usually immaculate style, and the blonde highlights have faded out to mostly brown at the roots. All the same, it’s true that Cat looks every bit as beautiful as Kara has always found her.

The compliment earns only a derisive snort, but Cat preens just a little, in her linen shirt and pants, loose-fitting and crinkled in a way that feels almost unbearably intimate; like Kara shouldn’t be present when Cat is so stripped back and vulnerable.

“So, you found me,” Cat says eventually. “We’ll make a reporter of you yet.”

“I’ve been nominated for a Pulitzer, Ms Grant.”

“Oh please, those don’t even count until your third.”

Kara winces at her own excitement, at how readily she’d believed she’d made it. Cat, to her credit, seems to notice that the words were a little too flippant.

“You can still enjoy the first two, of course. Now you’ve seen me for yourself, is that enough?”

“Enough? Cat, I came to see if you need anything. If I can help in any way. Here, now, or when you get out and come home. I’ve been researching addiction, and how best to support someone you care about and--”

“Kara, I’m not your problem anymore. You don’t have to manage me, or keep my life running smoothly. You’re... off the hook for all that now.”

“Did you not hear the part where I care about you?” Kara won’t let that be swept aside, not now. “You can be oblivious, Cat, but not that unaware.”

“And if you’ve done your research, you’ll know that relationships in the first year of recovery are a bad idea. Along with all the other reasons it’s a bad idea.”

Kara stands. She’s being shot down before she even gets going, and it can’t be that way. Not now.

“Do you honestly think I wouldn’t wait for you? That I haven’t basically been waiting for you since I walked into your office at 10:15 years ago? Do you think there is anything you could go through that would make me stop caring about you?”

“I have a lot to fix, Kara. Not least with my boys. Carter isn’t even...”

“I spoke to him,” Kara replies. “I know you’re not talking but I know he’s open to making that better, when you’re ready. And nothing I ever wanted for me and you would get in the way of that. We might only ever be friends, Cat, but I plan on being a good one.”

Cat reaches for her then, catching Kara’s hand and clutching it with her own.

“I knew you’d find me. Somehow, I knew. And I don’t deserve you, Kara, but if you’re really offering to be in my life again, I don’t think I can turn that down.”

“Then don’t.”

“We could go for a walk? In the grounds? They let me do that now.” Cat stands without ever letting go of Kara’s hands. “I can’t promise anything else, but we could start with that?”

“I’d like that,” Kara replies. “I’d like that a lot.”

#s1 nostalgia meme #supercat #kara danvers #cat grant #tw alcoholism #tw drug addiction #tw rehab #Anonymous

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