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monocaelia · 3 years

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tending to their wounds

they cannot evade death. but with you around, they're invincible.

feat. albedo, childe, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, xiao

genre : headcanons, fluff, angst [for xiao and kazuha], hurt/comfort

warnings : blood and injury. death mention. minor cursing.

❀ albedo

it's to no one's surprise that albedo isn't human, meaning he doesn't have the same bodily functions as the others in mondstadt do. his body cannot bleed nor can he feel much pain. that's not to say he can't at all, but a simple prick from a piece of shattered flask can't really do the young alchemist any harm.

flasks breaking or nicking himself while conducting his own research never really phased the alchemist. despite the warnings his assistant gave him about laboratory safety, he didn't need to heed them if the injuries didn't apply to him, did he?

it's safe to say that the chief alchemist is... perplexed to say the least at seeing you worry over him. he wasn't expecting you to come rushing through his laboratory door when you heard the sound of falling glass and nearly climbed over all of his equipment to come to his aid.

"really, you shouldn't have to worry," his gentle voice reassures you, but his attempts to calm you down are futile. instead, albedo is met with your furrowed brows in concentration and your fingers brushing against his as you inspect his invisible wounds.

"yeah well, maybe if you were more careful in your laboratory i wouldn't be here worrying over you, would i?" albedo sighs at your response and decides to let you do as you please to his 'injuries.'

the alchemist's teal eyes follow your movements as you reach for the bandages in the first aid kit and begin to wrap them around his finger tips. he doesn't miss the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips as you concentrate on the task in front of you.

despite not needing to worry much about him, albedo finds it endearing that you care so much about his wellbeing. how much you care about him, how often you check up on him and make sure he never overworks himself. you truly are a caring individual, a ray of warm sunshine in his life.

you meet albedo's gaze when your name leaves his lips, eyes filled with curiosity at what he could possibly want.

"thank you for tending to me." he thanks you with tender smile on his face, his spare hand gently ruffling your hair. the flustered expression on your face is hard to miss, especially when you quickly duck your head down and away from the alchemist.

you stutter out that 'this is nothing!' and continue on wrapping albedo's faux injuries. though, the alchemist finds the way your hands shake as they brush against his skin adorable.

❀ childe

childe is a war criminal, in case you missed it. it's not uncommon to find the young man fighting an entire hoard of enemies by himself. the thrill of battle never seems to be enough for him, as he constantly seeks anything that could satiate his need for exhilaration.

finding scars or fresh injuries on the harbinger is the usual for you, regardless of whether or not they're shallow wounds or deep gashes that gush blood and stain your poor floor. not that childe minds anyways, he sees his battle scars as medals of the many fights he has won and wears them with pride.

but, despite being one of the fatui harbingers and an absolute beast on the battlefield, that doesn't stop you from worrying about his wellbeing.

your brows furrow in concern at the sight of childe in front of you; body worn from using his foul legacy form one too many times in succession and injuries sustained from his earlier fight. he shouldn't have protected you, really you could have protected yourself. and yet...

"you're going to ruin yourself if you keep going into your other form all the time, you know." childe laughs weakly at your lecturing; that's all he can do right now anyways. you catch your lip in between your teeth as you rub a cooling ointment on the harbinger's body. "this isn't funny. you can't just die. then no one would be the eleventh harbinger and you-"

"i would leave you alone?" childe smiles when you send him a glare. his rough hand finds yours, squeezing it lightly in reassurance. there's not a chance in the world that he would succumb to death just yet. childe is still young, and there are many others that he hasn't had the pleasure of fighting against.

and he sure as abyss can’t pass away without saying how he truly feels about you.

you grumble to the snezhnayan that you could've handled it all alone, that you didn't need him to go all berserk on the ruin guards that had surrounded you earlier. instead, childe laughs and places a weak hand on your forearm. "i know, but that was the perfect time to show you just how well i can fight. maybe then, you'll finally accept my feelings."

a white lie, really. even though childe knows that you could've handled it yourself, he acted on instinct back then. the thought of you being harmed in any way sends a chill down the harbinger's spine. he wouldn't forgive himself if he reacted a second too late and you ended up hurt as a consequence.

what's the point of harboring the power of the abyss if he couldn't protect the ones he loved.

you roll your eyes at his answer, choosing to quietly resume cleaning up childe's wounds in hopes that he doesn't say anything more embarrassing. as your fingers brush against the snezhnayan's freckled skin, you don't miss the way he leans towards your touch and the happy hum rumbling from his chest.

❀ diluc

the darknight hero is not one to lose his battles, let alone allow any of his enemies lay a finger on him. trained by the knights and his own father, diluc's fighting style is difficult to intercept and finding a weak spot in his defense is futile. even if his sword is too slow, his fists will be glad to meet those that oppose him.

that isn't to say he doesn't get hurt every now and then. you've caught him with bandages wrapped around his hand, blood soaked gauze around his torso. as long as the job was done, diluc didn't mind the wounds he received in battle.

he isn't used to others tending to his wounds, as nobody really knows he's the darknight hero and protects mondstadt in the middle of the night. so when you catch him in the act of cleaning his wounds and offer to help, he kind of freezes up.

diluc wants to decline your offer, sure that he could finish this up by himself. and besides, he doesn't want to burden you with his consequences so late at night. but he knows you would keep bugging him and complain later that he didn't "love you" or whatever dramatic act you'd be committing in the near future.

it's hard to look at you when you're so close to the red haired vigilante. granted, diluc has always been pretty close with you, seeing as the two of you grew up together and shared most of your memories with one another (and kaeya).

but being physically close to you... is another story. your fingers lightly touching his skin, your face so close to his as you inspect other wounds on his body, your hands roaming the expanse of his chest to remove his shirt in case it hid any other injuries you could have missed.

diluc's hands twitch when you inch even closer to him. if he wanted to, it would take one swift movement to have his lips on yours. one swift movement to hold you in his arms and feel the way your skin melts into his.

but the vigilante has self-control and would rather die than make you uncomfortable.

diluc releases a shaky breath when you finally move away from his body, though it's only a brief moment of respite since you immediately move back into your previous position after grabbing more bandages. absolutely perfect for the poor vigilante.

he clears his throat when your hands slide down his arms to reassure the pressure is enough to keep his wounds from reopening and bleeding out. it is then that you realize what you've been doing to the poor red haired man and how close you've been to him and his body.

"oh? what could you possibly be thinking about, mr. ragnvindr?" you tease, raising an eyebrow and sending diluc a playful smile. you fail to suppress your laughter when he scrunches up his face and turns his face away from you, his ears burning a wonderful shade of bright pink.

"i think it's time for you to leave." shocked, you try and apologize and get him to let you stay a little bit more. the night is still young, and he still has more injuries to be looked at! but diluc pays you no mind.

not like he'd have the heart to actually kick you out of his room anyways.

❀ kaeya

the captain of the calvary isn't one to fight, always looking for people to do his dirty work so he doesn't have to. why bother exerting more energy than you already have when you can make others do it for you? it's more fun that way, anyways.

that doesn't mean kaeya is incapable of fighting. if needed to, the blue haired captain would gladly point his sword at the enemy to keep them at bay or spar a fellow knight. scratches and shallow scrapes are what you mostly see from him.

you aren't expecting to be called into the knights of favonius headquarters and be greeted by the calvary captain battered up and bruised in the infirmary.

"you're squeezing me too hard," kaeya comments nonchalantly, as if he isn't bleeding to death on the bed right now. "you'll cut off circulation in my arm if you keep doing that." you shoot him a glare, but the blue haired captain only laughs at you. you tighten the bandage on his arm.

you refuse to get tangled up in anymore of kaeya's antics. it's all his fault you've aged ten years because of him and his stupid actions and refusing to ask for help despite the mission being bigger than anyone could handle. alone at least. it's not like you don't trust him, but a little extra help isn't bad to have.

your frown deepens when your eyes flit up to stare at the blood soaked shirt covering kaeya's chest. you order him to take it off so you can inspect his injury, which was a mistake on your part.

"oh? shouldn't you ask me on a date first before being this forward?" kaeya's laughter rings around the infirmary seeing your deadpan expression at his joke. maybe you should just leave, just leave this stupid man to bleed to death on this infirmary bed. maybe then you would finally be at peace.

"well. maybe i would have asked you on a date if you weren't so stupid to take this dumb mission alone. you could have died, asshole." kaeya only hums in response, which pisses you off even more. it's like he didn't have a care in the world.

in the midst of your grumblings and cleaning of kaeya's wounds, you miss the tender look he gives you; warm and gentle. the captain finds it nice to have someone care for someone like him after so long.

it wasn’t his fault he wanted to do this alone. well, it was, but it’s hard for kaeya to rely on others and be vulnerable to those around him despite how long he’s known them. his walls are built high, refusing to let anybody in in case he accidentally hurts them in the future.

he wonders if you'd miss him if he disappeared one day, but the way your brows furrow in concern at seeing how bad the gash in his chest confirms his answer.

kaeya’s endearing, warm smile is replaced with the usual smug smirk when you look up to meet his gaze. one day, he hopes he’ll be able to let his walls down around you.

"you know, you're really cute when you worry over me. maybe i should get injured more often." the look of shock at kaeya's comment is evident on your flustered face and it takes everything in him to not laugh and open up his wounds again.

❀ kazuha

kazuha isn't one to easily get injured, well at least seriously injured. he was raised by a prestigious family, trained in the arts of the kaedehara clan. with the help of his prior knowledge of fighting and his keen senses, it's hard to one-up the young man to the point of injury.

that isn't to say he has never sustained any injuries. there have been one too many times that the inazuman traveller has shown up at your door with a couple of scrapes and an apologetic smile on his face.

so, it's a surprise when you find kazuha at your doorstep severely injured and clutching something in his burned hand.

it's quiet between the two of you as your eyes scan kazuha's body for any more injuries and your hands quickly move to tend to his right hand. the skin is burnt, bleeding, and his fingers shake from the injuries it sustained.

you whisper an apology to the inazuman when you gently clean the wounded skin with a warm cloth. he doesn't flinch, dazed eyes still staring off in front of you. it makes you wonder what kazuha went through to be injured this badly. though, seeing as the only serious injury was his right hand, you assumed it wasn't from a fight.

"kazuha... what happened to you?" your words are gentle, afraid your voice would scare the inazuman traveller in front of you. kazuha doesn't respond and instead tightens the grip he has on your hand that's bandaging him. his hand is shaking, and you don't realize he's crying until you feel the wet teardrops on your skin.

ruby eyes glazed with tears meet your own when your eyes flick up to confirm that he was indeed crying.

"tomo..." the crack in his voice shatters your heart and you find yourself pulling kazuha into your arms. his own circle around you and his hands grip onto the back of your shirt as he buries his face into your shoulder.

kazuha's body shakes as he sobs at the loss of his friend. he must have held it in until he got to the safety of your home. you were always his safe haven; coming over so you could tend his light wounds and provide a roof over his head if he was passing by your village.

and yet all you can do now is hold him until the storm inside his heart passes by.

❀ xiao

being in pain or having many injuries litter the expanse of his skin isn't unusual for xiao. he's an adeptus whose sole purpose is to serve rex lapis and protect the citizens of liyue, even if it meant throwing his life away.

even then, sustaining larger, more painful wounds didn't make the adeptus bat an eye. despite how horrible it sounds, xiao is used to it all and takes each hit and laceration that comes his way without blinking an eye.

when karmic debt constantly takes a toll against your health and death is the only solution to reaching true peace, it's hard to care about the state of your own wellbeing.

so imagine xiao's surprise when he shows up at the wangshu inn battered and bruised from dealing with a hoard of monsters and seeing you standing in the yaksha's usual spot, waiting for him with a frown etched into your face.

nimble fingers work deftly against xiao's body, quickly cleaning up the lacerations on the adeptus' chest and the scrapes that cover his arms. xiao releases a hiss from the sting of the medicine and you apologize under your breath.

"i knew you would end up like this." your words come out harsher than you intend to. the adeptus doesn't respond. as long as he was the only casualty to come out of this, as long as the innocent lives of liyuens were protected, as long as you were safe behind the walls of the wangshuu inn, it didn't matter how badly his body was injured.

"i just... i just wished you weren't so careless, xiao." the way your voice breaks doesn't go unheard by the yaksha. his eyes snap forward, but your head is tilted down as your shaky fingers worked their way around xiao's torso. "you're always fighting as if no one cared if you died or disappeared one day."

xiao doesn't get it. he doesn't understand why you care about him so much. a being fated to suffer until his dying days are over, one cursed with karmic debt and forced to carry the burdens of the innocent lives he took in his past.

no one should care about him. a monster with blood on his hands.

but here you are, shedding tears for an adeptus who didn't deserve it. the sole yaksha who is fated to succumb to the sweet embrace of death at any given moment.

and yet, despite knowing he doesn't deserve your gentle touch brushing over his wounds, the young adeptus lifts your face with a gloved finger and brushes away the tears that flow down your cheeks. he longs to continue holding you, to feel your skin against his. you're his temporary solace from the karmic debt that hangs over his heart.

an apology slips past xiao's lips, and you cry harder, calling him 'stupid' for almost dying out there. you bury yourself in his chest and he hugs you, afraid that if he let go, you would be nothing but a dream.

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eirikagenshinvision · 3 years

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Summoning a Harbinger

Childe x GN!Reader

1.5k Words

Warnings: suggestive position, kissing

You cough, waving away the blue smoke of your partner summon from your face until it fades. Once you’re able to squint your eyes open after the flash of light you see a humanoid figure standing in the circle. Your jaw drops. Only tier one and some tier two demons have humanoid forms. And it’s incredibly rare for a summoner to summon such a high tier demon.

As the smoke fully clears your drops even more and your eyes are the size of dinner plates. That’s… that’s a harbinger demon, definitely on the high side of tier one. He sends you a wink. His bright orange hair contrasts well with his blue eyes and you can feel your blush growing already.

“It’s nice to meet you! Are you ready to make our demon summoner partner contract?” He asks. “Y-yeah, sure, um, give me a minute,” you respond, trying to calm your racing heart. Taking a deep breath, you nod to yourself. “Alright, I’m ready.”

Removing your hands from your hydro summoning circle, the two of you press the palms of your hands together. “As the summoner, I swear to support my demon partner and treat them with respect and honor.” You start. “As the summoned, I swear to support my human partner and treat them with respect and honor.” He finishes. Your mana swirls together with his around your hands, merging into one before dispersing in a cloud of sparkles.

The two of you grin at each other, a mutual feeling of elation filling you. Your teacher marks down your summoning and partnership. “Name?” They inquire. “Tartaglia, the eleventh harbinger,” Your partner responds, adding a small smirk when your teacher startles at the revelation of his identity. “A-all right,” they stutter. “The two of you are good to go! Have a nice day!”

After thanking them the two of you walk home, attracting some stares as you go. But, thankfully, Tartaglia looks just normal enough for the two of you to not be bothered. Once you’re home you take some time to get to know each other and plan what to do in the future. Since he enjoys fighting, you decide to go into demon tournaments. It allows him to get the battle he craves without causing any problems by picking fights on the street like he knows he’d get into otherwise.

The next day you sign yourselves up and start sparring classes. It’s obvious that he’s had a lot of practice as every spar is over quickly in your favor. By the end of the day he’s pouting over the lack of challenge but the two of you find solace in the fact that his good performance convinced your teachers to allow you to register for this upcoming tournament season instead of making you wait for the next one.

While Tartaglia is very skilled, the two of you are still careful to not slack off. Instead you work on bonding further to increase strength of your support and planning out how you would go about things. You’ve come to generally trust in his judgment when it comes to fighting, but you do have to learn to pull him out of the foul legacy form he sometimes falls into.

The first time he changed forms you were completely unprepared and he almost hurt you before he regained control of himself. You can tell he still hasn’t forgiven himself for that no matter how much you reassure him that it’s okay and isn’t his fault. It took a long time for him to feel comfortable practicing fighting around you again. But during the time when he wasn’t, you spent that time working on a way to help from your end.

When it happened you could feel the change through your bond. The change almost felt like someone flipped a coin. If you could figure out how to flip it back over it could bring him back to his right mind instead of forcing him to break out of it himself. When you mentioned the possibility of doing so to him, he was extremely hesitant to try it and insisted on teaching you to protect yourself first.

It wouldn’t be enough to win a fight against him, but it would help you last long enough for him to regain control of himself before he hurt you again. The lessons were long and hard but you were improving, which brings you to this moment.

You deflect a punch, pivoting away from a kick and weaving below and around his left hook. He’s been on full frontal assault for the past five minutes and you’ve started to wear out despite all the endurance training he’s put you through. You can see his next roundhouse kick coming but are too slow to dodge it and are knocked to the ground. Suddenly he’s on top of you, stradling you and pinning your hands to the ground.

“I win~,” he sing-songs, a big smile on his face. He’s always loved winning and this is no exception. Now, usually you’re fine because this is a very common position for your spars to end in. But the combination of his smile and him being closer to you than normal was enough to fluster you. You feel your face warm as you try desperately to look anywhere but at him, something he picks up on right away.

His smile grows smug as he notices the sudden change in atmosphere. “Oh? What’s this?” He asks. “You seem a little flustered, I wonder why that could be. It couldn’t possibly be me, could it?” The wall is suddenly the most interesting thing you have ever seen in your life and you find the need to intensely study it. Anything to fend off the inevitable conversation about your feelings for him.

Falling for him had been so natural, just like breathing. After spending so much time together and getting to know him, listening to him talk about his family for hours, sparring with him, training for tournaments, it all fell into place so easily. But your feelings could ruin everything.

There are so many stories about promising partnerships breaking up because of unrequited feelings between a humanoid demon and their summoner. And you couldn’t let that happen to you and him. You just couldn’t. So you kept those thoughts and feelings far, far away from the empathic bond the two of you shared.

He shifts how he’s pinning your hands to make one of his hands usable to him. Using it, he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. His smug attitude softens as he notices a hint of fear in your eyes and feels how scared you are through your bond as you desperately try to avoid eye contact. “Hey, it’s okay,” he coaxes you. “It’s okay, I promise. This is okay.” The hand holding your chin moves to cup your cheek as he smooths your cheek with his thumb.

“How is this okay?” You ask, eyes starting to water. “Feeling like this could ruin us, I don’t want to drive you away like what has happened to so many others in the past. I just- I just don’t think I could handle that.” Admitting it felt like such a relief. You no longer have to carry the burden by yourself.

You blink and a tear runs down the side of your face until it meets his fingers. He looks devastated. “I don’t think I could handle that either,” he confesses. “After all, I feel the same way. I may not get flustered as much by this stuff, but it’s a wonder you never noticed me blushing when you sincerely compliment me on little things.”

He gets off you, stands up, and extends a hand to you. Once you garb it he helps you stand and pulls you into a hug. “I think we both want the same thing but have been too afraid to bring it up. But now that I know, I’m not letting this go. May I kiss you?” He holds the sides of your face, wiping away the last of your tears and you nod.

His kiss is slow and full of so much emotion. It’s like you can drown in it. When he pulls away he presses a quick kiss to the tip of your nose and laughs at your reaction. “Let’s get back to sparring. You’re almost there! Then we can try the whole ‘controlling the foul legacy form’ idea that you came up with. But I find it only fair to warn you that I’ll be expecting a kiss every time I win, got it?”

Your smile in response makes him blush and gives him a warm fuzzy feeling in his heart. “That works for me!” You tell him cheerfully. “Let’s get back to it!” He grins and steps away in a fighting stance. “Here I come!”

He wins a lot that day, and in a way, you win too.

#eirika writes #childe #tartagalia #ajax #childe x reader #tartagalia x reader #ajax x reader #genshin childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin ajax #genshin impact x reader

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boxlunches · 4 years

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Tiger King was a fucking experience to say the least and I binged it all today, and like everyone else I was darkly, absurdly entertained in my shock. But holy shit I absolutely regret checking social media’s thoughts on it before going to bed. I hadn’t been in on the memes and discussions prior to watching. I gotta vent y’all.

Whiiiile it’s certainly fun to get swept up together in a story that is just so batshit crazy in a surreal time when all of us are gripped by fear, the grand takeaway that so many people got from this documentary is disturbing honestly.

I feel distressed that I have to explain that the conversation surrounding Carole Baskin is dripping with violent misogyny. There’s a way to hate on someone awful without making disgusting remarks about their sex. Carole Baskin is unlikeable, sketchy, and probably terrible - and yeah, QUITE POSSIBLY a murderer. Do not trust her at all myself, especially after hearing from her late husband’s family about her bullshit.

But guys. You just watched a seven hour documentary about a foul-mouthed, racist, predatory, violent man who could not relinquish his murderous obsession to the point that on his frequent internet show he was abusing a blow-up doll and calling it Carole, posting memes about her genitals, and making very colorful public death threats.

And you want to parrot that guy’s words, “that bitch Carole Baskin,” essentially continuing his violent misogynist legacy, because lol the memes you guys the meeeeemes. And he’s gay so it’s fine and she’s a bitch so whatever! Except after the first couple of times it stops being some meta commentary about Joe Exotic’s ridiculous paranoia and instead circles right back around to straight up misogyny, because all people are getting is that she’s “that bitch.”

Which is to say nothing of the people who *genuinely* believe that she was the worst person among all the crime lords on Tiger King. When Joe Exotic wasn’t being a gun-happy prick around his employees and blowing shit up (which I’m sure was a delight to the stressed out and abused animals on his property), he was snatching baby tigers away from their moms seconds after birth, shooting at least five other tigers in the head, and OH, busy preying on young men fresh out of high school and keeping them drugged and confined on his land.

Incoming Tangent: The predatory, grooming, cult shit going on with Joe and his meth-addicted “husbands” is stomach-churning. Travis’s story fucked me up and I’m still reeling over the fact that Netflix showed real security footage of a person reacting to his suicide/or accidental death without any warning. There’s a few major things like that that make me question how responsible this documentary’s handling was. Honestly the creators of the documentary seem a little gross too.

And there’s just so much more, I can’t go over all the fucked up people in this show, it’s a shock a minute lol (although special honorable mention to absolute human shitstain Doc Antle who keeps a harem of young women and coerces them into getting breast implants and fucking him for promotions). BUT THE POINT I’M TRYING TO MAKE IS

Look, I get it. It’s pretty obvious that people are latching on to the Carole thing because it’s easier and safer to riff on some absurd crime we don’t know was technically committed. For a lot of people dunking on Carole is just adopting the absurd costume of Joe Exotic for a minute and having cynical fun while the world spirals out of control. And that’s fine. Make your memes about her slathering her piece of shit first husband in salmon oil and feeding him to a tiger, question her sketch business practices and shitty priorities, fine cool whatever. I know people also target her because of all the villains in a show of villains, she seems to not get any comeuppance at all, and we all want to know what’s happening there. That’s why she was the first name I looked up, after all.

But a bunch of other people? Genuinely they just watched a show overflowing with despicable behavior, and instead of shaking their heads at the whole lot of them, they felt inclined to believe every bit of shit that came out of Joe Exotic’s mouth about Carole and her business. Even after they watched Joe threaten to shoot a tiger between the eyes for acting like a wild animal. Even after they watched Joe prey on a high school graduate and then talk at length about his genitals to his grieving family at his funeral. Even after all else, because our society’s misogyny runs so fucking deep, those viewers felt compelled to take up Joe’s lunatic crusade to put the head of “that bitch Carole Baskin” in a jar.

Instead of giving any kind of shit about tigers.

#tiger king #not trying to ruin anyone’s fun #just fuckin tired like everyone else #what a shitshow eh #keep posting pics like that jet ski guy #that’s the vibe we need

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talesmaniac89 · 4 years

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Nicotine

Pairing: Dean x Reader (Reader is not actually present in the story, just mentioned)

Summary: Dean has his vices, but they all pale in comparison to how he craves you. Yet he pushed you away, leaving him gasping for air.

Word Count: 1966

Triggers: Talks about addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, romanticizing unhealthy behaviours (vices/addictions), alcohol, nicotine, heartbreak, angst, self-medicating, drugs (not taking drugs just the language used as metaphors), brief mentions of sex though no smut.

Y/N = Your Name | Y/L/N = Your Last Name

A/N: Written for the lovely @katehuntington‘s 1K Celebration (Congratulations again💚!). I chose the song Nicotine by Chef’Special - The story uses slightly reworded lyrics at multiple points, but I’ve marked the lyrics in bold in the one place I used the lyrics directly (with a change in tense from “is” to “was” to make it work with the story).

---

Dean had his vices.

Hell, he nearly collected them like some people collected baseball cards; carefully filed and stored away in the dark recesses of his mind for when he needed an escape from the real world. A personal prescription to hedonistic tendencies that temporarily drowned out anger, pain and weakness.

Sex, alcohol, adrenaline, unreasonable amounts of coffee, grease and sugar. They were his coping mechanisms. His form of self-medicating in a job that definitely didn’t offer a healthcare plan. Was it unhealthy? Yeah, maybe. But everything else in his life was already out to kill him, so he couldn’t really make himself care enough to stop. It wasn’t as if liver failure or death by sugar overdose was what was waiting for him down the line anyway. He’d never make it that far.

No, Dean Winchester would die like he lived; with a gun in his hand, anger in his eyes and a weak hope for humanity in his heart.

His vices, his addictions, just let him escape from all the shit in his life for a little while. Let him feel like he had control over some part of his screwed-up existence. They were the comforting oblivion when the real world just hurt too much and the needed driving force when he was just too angry at the world to stay in one place and went looking for a hunt. For some sick bastard or monster to hurt in place of himself.

Each vice served its purpose.

Casual sex and quick hook-ups for the days his bed felt too big and the loneliness was eating at him. Caffeine for when he was just tired of the constant sleepless nights and nightmares. Adrenaline and recklessness when he was angry at the fucking world. Alcohol to shut out the guilty thoughts and his not-so-greatest hits playing back featuring everyone he’d ever failed for just one night… You name a less than stellar state of mind; Dean had a vice to cope with it.

Though he’d stayed away from anything harder than alcohol as far as anything that could be considered ‘recreational’ went. He might be reckless, but he wasn’t about to make himself an easy mark by getting strung up on something that a bit of fresh air couldn’t shake. No, even when indulging, Dean wasn’t stupid. He was a hunter first, and one with a massive target on his back at that. He needed to keep a clear head to face the monsters the world kept throwing his way.

He’d also never really gotten the whole fuss and temptation of cigarettes, past trying one once in his teens. The greyish bitter smoke reminded him too much of the black toxic cloud of sulfur that followed a possession. And he liked flavours and sensations when it came to his vices; the burn of a good whiskey, the pleasant heat of a woman’s body, the heavy pulse of an adrenaline rush. Not the thought of inhaling bitter, foul smelling smoke into his lungs and coughing them up until he got hooked on it. He never really understood why anyone would want to inhale anything other than air (and the occasional burger) in the first place. It just wasn’t natural.

Or at least he hadn’t… Until he met you.

That’s when stolen moments of inhaled sweet air became another thing to get hooked on. The teasing whiff of your fresh shampoo as you brushed past him in the hallway. The sugar sweet rush of your scent that left him breathless when he’d pulled you close and out of danger. The breaths of cotton candy air he’d greedily stolen from your open mouth against his as he gasped around the taste of you once he finally worked up the courage to kiss you.

That was all it took. One gasped breath, and he was hooked.

Every other vice and addiction paled in comparison to you. Some men had nicotine, Dean Winchester had you; his drug of choice. From that first dizzying hit of inhaled sugar and salt as he buried his face in your damp, heated neck, writing love stories on your skin with his tongue and teeth, Dean had been a goner.

He needed to feel you under his fingers, taste you on his tongue and breathe in the sweet scent of your warm skin to fall asleep. Hell, to just stop from losing his mind when the world decided to test the limits of his sanity once more.

When you were around, he felt whole again. He hadn’t felt that way in years; that long lost and forgotten happiness. Like he was good, worthy and human. You were the only drug he’d ever need. The soothing touch of your fingers against his forehead was better than the oblivion found at the bottom of a bottle. Your steady breaths that lulled him into dreamless sleep removed the need for caffeine completely. And your body next to his on the bed didn’t just momentarily chase away the loneliness, it completely erased it.

Dean didn’t just crave you. He needed you like others needed air.

Yet he’d chased you away. Leaving him tossing and turning in twisted sheets from withdrawal now that your skin wasn’t easily within the reach of his greedy fingers. His throat was rough and raw with a thirst he couldn’t quench. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t fucking breathe. His head was pounding with the constant echoes of your last fight. The ghost of your skin against his fingers was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He needed you to breathe. He needed to taste you on his tongue. Dean needed you.

But you were gone.

After another hard hunt, another life lost, he’d pushed you away. Yelling angry words that he didn’t even remotely mean, even in the heat of the moment, to make you leave him. Since he didn’t have the willpower to kick the habit that was (Y/N) (Y/L/N) himself. Silently begging you to get out before it was late, before your name was added to the list of people he failed to save. Breaking his own heart even as he told you that what you’d shared had to stop.

It had been a bad fight. He might not have known how to stop craving you, but if there was one thing Dean Winchester was an expert at it was destruction. Tearing down anything remotely good in his life as if he was a controlled explosion; leaving the bad untouched and disintegrating the good. Demolishing beautiful, safe walls and leaving just a wreckage made of hurt, hunts and freezing lonely nights. It was the Winchester legacy; no heart left unbroken, no happy endings and no bright light at the end of endless dark tunnels.

He’d told you he didn’t need you. That you made him weaker. That you were a danger to them. Turning everything he believed about himself on its head and mirroring it, so you had to temporarily carry the burdens, just for long enough to realise he was toxic. That he was a harmful habit that you needed to kick, or it would end up forcing you straight into an early, unmarked grave.

He’d turned his back on you, and you’d left. Your angry tears drowned his already shattered heart as you spun on your heel and removed all traces of yourself from his life. Your parting words a bitter echo of love that just wouldn’t stop ringing in his ears. The beautiful sound of your voice, breaking over a promise of a love he didn’t deserve.

“You hurt me Dean. And fuck if I don’t want to hurt you back. But I love you, and I always will, even if you can’t love yourself,”

He’d done it for your sake. Dean Winchester wasn’t really a safe pair of arms to rest in. Yet, the moment the door shut behind your retreating back, he’d regretted it. Sinking to his knees with the early shakes of withdrawal.

He hadn’t realised how deep he’d fallen, how addicted he’d become to your plump lips and the bittersweet taste of your kiss. He was high on you, and he wasn’t coming down. Instead, everything he tried to do to wean himself off your taste, your touch and your scent only solidified how much he needed you. Your love was the cure, the miracle drug needed to survive the damned hell that was his unfair and unforgiving life.

But you were gone, and it was his fucking fault.

Twisting his body on the hard mattress Dean barely glanced at the glowing numbers on his bedside clock before combing a hand roughly through his hair and glaring at the dark ceiling above him. Anger radiating off of him and staining the ceiling with new guilty shadows and stupid decisions. 3 am; another sleepless, loveless night.

Before you, he would’ve just gotten out of bed on nights like that. Found a bottle and drank until the room started spinning and he passed out. But the taste of you was hotter than whiskey, the pull for you stronger than the oblivion he was trying to chase.

Staring at the ceiling, he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched at the bridge of his nose. His head was killing him, his body was aching for you. He just needed to fall asleep. To try and find his way to a dream featuring you, as if he was chasing a fading high. Just to not feel anything for at least a little while. To not freeze to death from the chill to his left where you’d been just days earlier. Just within his reach whenever he needed to feel your pulse against trembling fingertips or steal another gasped sugared moan from your lips.

He was desperate for at least an hour of shut eye, of a dream of you. Even though he knew it was useless. Sleep wasn’t a cure. It wasn’t even a fucking band aid. Even if he managed to block out the hurt, the need, for a few hours. It’d just come rushing back once he woke back up. Knocking the air out of him and leaving him pinned to cold sheets, gasping for you.

It was futile. Your love was like a drug. He couldn’t just forget you. He couldn’t sleep this off and shake it. He needed you more than adrenaline, alcohol, caffeine, nicotine, sugar… More than any fucking vice that anyone could think up. Without you he couldn’t even taste the burn of the whiskey or feel the heat of the sun on his skin. You were the colour to his sketched outline. Nothing else mattered if you weren’t there.

Opening his eyes, Dean’s feet found the chill of the concrete floor before he even fully realised what he was doing. He needed you. He’d been fucking stupid, letting you go. And even if all he could do was drive around aimlessly, looking for your car, then that’s what he’d do. It was 3 am, but Dean didn’t care. He’d drive, and he’d keep driving until he found you again. Until he could beg you for forgiveness. Beg you to come home to him.

He barely even remembered to grab his keys and jacket in his rush to fill the craving that was tearing his heart apart. Pulling the worn leather jacket on over the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d been sleeping in, or trying to sleep in, as he shouldered the door to his room open.

He had to find you, had to make things right.

Dean Winchester had his vices. But you were no vice. You were a virtue, and he wasn’t gonna let you go. Not without chasing the sweet high of your kiss till the end of the world.

---

Tags:

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @hobby27 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 2 years

Note

chatter box anon is back! with nice news infact :) collei caonically considers the traveller to be her new best friend!! + idea for you, (fired) Childe and faul legacy share the same body and when legacy isn't 'in control' he's like a lil ghost, S/O and those two exploring sumeru together would be GREAT- Wspecially if S/O had a vision and was pretty versitile given the area, so now childe is depending on his S/O and seeing that.. yeah they're really strong-

AAAA I LOVE THE SUMERU ARCHON QUESTS SO MUCH COLLEI MY DAUGHTER I AM SO PROUD OF YOU (also welcome back i missed you!!!! how are things!!!)

consider this: Pyro Vision. you might be very relaxed compared to some Vision users, mostly just living a normal life and treating the Vision like a pretty accessory, but the minute Childe is threatened whether he's Foul Legacy or completely defenseless you are IMMEDIATELY threatening to start a forest fire. Sumeru is all greenery, it wouldn't be that hard!! (so is Mondstadt if you happen to be there instead) for the most part you're very kind and agreeable, but you absolutely refuse to let your lover get hurt- he's protected you for so long, now it's your turn to protect him!! even if he doesn't really need it in Foul Legacy form, but you know his bloodlust has drained out of him in a way so you want to do your best to take care of conflict

even better is Childe's reaction to you wielding your Vision!! you're both in a wonderful new nation, one neither of you have visited before, which means new dangerous creatures as well. Childe and Foul Legacy are all too ready to defend you, but before he can even blink you're using your Vision like he's never seen before, movements flowing like water despite your fiery element and soon the enemies are dead on the floor, and Foul Legacy's scooping you into his arms and chirping excitedly, spinning you around in sheer delight. you're already amazing, see, and seeing you use your Vision like that was jaw-dropping!!! he's both so proud and thinks himself incredibly lucky to have someone like you <33

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #childe #tartaglia #chit chat #chatterbox anon #hello!!!! welcome back it is so nice to see you!!! :DDD #i hope you're doing well!!!!#this focuses more on the combat and vision stuff but i wanna do something with exploring sumeru!!#(I LOVE EXPLORING IT SO MUCH)#also i think you get to be a little unhinged as a treat :)))#short scenario #other's stuff #please tell me if i interpreted this wrong!!!

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

Text

“Stark’s New Intern” Chp. 19

youtube

"When I first saw you You had a sparkle in your eye Like the stars at night High in the sky

How I wish That you were mine 'Cause to me You're one of a kind

When I look at you It seems so untrue How someone like you Can make me feel the way you do"

Cameo—"Sparkle"

"Erik, you here with us, man?"

Walter's keen dark eyes took in Erik's solemn face as they sat in a popular and busy diner on Pico and La Brea eating pancakes and thick cuts of Canadian bacon. Maria and his Aunt Shavonne shared nail care tips to prevent chipping as his Uncle Bakari cut up his food and ate with a contented face.

Erik pushed circles in the maple syrup on his plate and checked the thin cell phone near his half-empty cup of coffee. Devika still wouldn't return the ten or so texts he sent her.

"My mind is scattered, sorry."

Devika ignoring him, and Tony being cryptic had him on edge. He deleted messages from Giselle and Athena wanting another Ménage a Trois encore and looked Walter in the face.

"You still trippin' about earlier?" Walter asked.

"Nah. I'm over that. It's just…I was foul with that and I hurt my girl."

"Your girl? Which one?" Walter joked.

"Shut up," Erik said giving his friend a grin.

Walter's braided hair was pulled up into a palm tree bun.

"My dude, you've always been messy. Nothing's changed. You've leveled up though."

"Leveled up? I ain't never been with any questionable…"

He almost said hoes, but his Uncle was listening.

Walter leaned in closer and whispered.

"You did them both at the same time?"

Erik gave a subtle nod.

"Man…"

Walter chuckled and ate more bacon on his plate.

Erik glanced at his cell again.

"Expecting a call?" Bakari asked.

"Nah. Just checking for work messages. Sometimes Stark sends mass alerts. Gotta keep on top of stuff there. Even on the weekends."

"You look good. We're proud that you stuck with it," Bakari said.

"It turned out better than I thought," Erik said.

His stomach got tight and Maria glanced over at him. He caught her eyes sliding over to Walter.

"How's school man? We spent all this time talking about my internship, what's poppin' back home?" Erik asked.

"I quit."

Walter popped his last piece of bacon in his mouth.

"Walter!" Shavonne scolded.

"Why?" Erik asked.

"It's not for me. School was always your forte man, and I know my parents wanted me to be like you, but my talents are in fashion…textiles."

"Are you a designer?" Maria asked.

"Yeah, I am," Walter said holding her gaze, "I dropped out of SFSU and enrolled in the Fashion Institute. Going to start my own brand of sportswear. Merge tech and clothing together."

"Dope," Erik said giving Walter a pound.

"Call my parents and tell them that," Walter said.

"When we were in grade school, this fool designed bullet-proof clothing for elementary kids," Erik said pushing back his plate.

"A lot of shootings were going down, and I wanted to stay safe."

"That's, wow…that's kind of sad," Maria said.

"That's how it be in the East Bay sometimes," Walter said.

"Everywhere," Shavonne chimed in.

"I start in the fall and I have already lined up my own internship with Trekfit. They're new, hungry, and I can parlay my talents into maybe getting my own stuff out in three or four years."

Erik and Walter shared a joke in Korean and Maria watched them both.

"You speak Korean?" Maria asked Erik.

"Passable—"

"Barely," Walter said.

"Good luck with the educational changes," Bakari said. He stared at his watch, "Are we all ready to hang out at the pier?"

Bakari drove them all in a rental car, and Erik found himself sitting in the middle of a conversation between Walter and Maria. They had only been together for two hours but they already acted like an old married couple. Divisive opinions on anime, gaming, and sticky rice flew across his lap since he sat in between them in the back seat.

The weather was almost perfect, a little too hot as the temperature raised above eighty degrees, but Erik enjoyed strolling on the pier and talking with his Aunt and Uncle. Maria and Walter had paired off to ride the carousel and Erik kept checking his phone.

"Just call her," Bakari said.

His Uncle snacked on chocolate and vanilla soft serve ice cream as his Aunt Shavonne tried to shoot fake ducks for prizes with water guns.

"I saw how she looked at you when she stood at the door. I damn near had a flashback to your Pappy back in school. You actually had the same look on your face. What's her name?"

"Devika."

"You sure do like 'em grown," Bakari said winking at Erik.

"Everyone is older than me there, so I don't really have control over that."

"Walter is right too, those were some boss looking babes. The legacy continues."

"It is what it is Unc. But I didn't mean for that to happen. I was supposed to go see her last night and I just…messed up."

"Protecting yourself?"

"Always."

"Respecting them?"

"Yeah."

"But this Devika?"

"I got caught up and forgot to communicate with her. I wasn't expecting her to show up like that. I'm actually not supposed to be seeing her."

"Why not?"

"She's um…she's Stark's secretary."

"Erik…boy, I tell ya…"

Bakari ate his ice cream and Erik watched his Uncle's face.

The man was heavier in the face and body, and he was happy with Shavonne because it shone all over his face when he looked at her. His uncle treated his wife the way Erik's father treated his mother. Like they were one of a kind. And that was true. He learned how to treat women from his Dad and Bakari. His uncle raised him for six years a couple of years after Erik's parents died. Bakari gave Erik a foundation to rebuild his life when he floundered in the streets and foster care. His uncle begged his Grandpop to give him guardianship so Erik could leave Oakland and be somewhere that wouldn't remind him of the pain he suffered. It worked.

His aunt and uncle made sure Erik stayed connected to Walter and even his friend Shawn whom he met in juvenile hall. Flew them both out every summer and made sure they traveled to Martha's Vineyard for vacations and also allowed him to go to Brazil yearly to visit his cousin Marisol. They gave him life again, and he was eternally grateful. They also made sure to remind him of the special bond his parents had, and if Erik had the same romantic tendencies of his father, Bakari constantly reflected on honest communication.

Devika was beginning to feel special to him, and he couldn't understand how he could be so careless with her. All he had to do was call her and say he was spending some time with the other women and…

He had no real excuse or reason for his behavior. He did want to see her. Craved her even, especially with Tony Stark telling him what he couldn't have. But pitchers of Margaritas and pretty faces hemmed him up. The sex was everything, but now he regretted it.

"I like her Unc. She's been good to me the entire time I was here. She's fine. Smart. I don't know why I fucked up. Sorry for cussing."

"Young people make mistakes."

Erik put his phone away. He wanted to focus on his family.

The rest of his weekend was pleasant and he spent much-needed quality time with Bakari and Shavonne.

Walter spent quality time with Maria.

It was all good.

###

Erik picked out his best new blue suit to wear to Stark's office. Whatever was going down would happen with him looking his best.

He had a fresh line up and brand-new cologne. Eyes tracked him in the lobby of the Stark building and even Valentina did a double-take when she saw him walk past her on his way to the private elevator.

His confidence faded once he reached Stark's floor and he saw Devika through the glass office walls.

Damn that woman beautiful.

She wore thick wash and go curls all over her head, and her make-up was smoky and smooth like her skin. Erik took a deep breath and walked into the room.

"I'm here for Stark's eight—"

"Go in, he's expecting you."

She cut him off without looking at him. He stepped closer to her desk.

"Devika—"

"He's waiting for you."

"I don't have a good excuse. I'm sorry."

Her eyes finally took his in.

"Don't worry about it. We're good."

"It doesn't feel good. You wouldn't even talk to me this weekend."

"You were with family, remember?"

He chewed on his lip trying to keep himself from saying something smart ass to dig at her. He was shocked at how much he wanted her forgiveness. Anyone else he would be tossing to the side like, "Oh well", and then be on to his next conquest, but Devika snuck up on him emotionally. While he had been busy chasing after Giselle and falling in easily with Athena, Devika was just…there. Always there.

All the little things she did for him, the corny jokes they shared each time he was called up to see Stark…reminders to eat or drink water. The donuts to keep his blood sugar up when he worked late…she was a constant source of calm for him during the entire internship. He would be crushed if she iced him for the rest of his time there.

"Just tell me this, is Boss Man about to kick me out?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He called me after you left my apartment and told me my time in the internship was over."

Devika's nose crinkled up and her eyes were full of confusion.

"I haven't heard any talk about putting you out."

That made Erik breathe easier. Devika was the pulse of Stark. Right after Pepper, Devika knew the man better than he knew himself.

"Devika, have you heard from Stevens yet?"

Stark's voice came through on the desk intercom.

"He's walking in now."

She pushed him toward the door.

Entering, Erik was surprised to see Janine and two other upper-level suits sitting in the room.

"Take a seat," Stark said pointing to the only available chair in front of his desk.

Erik unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down with his legs wide apart. Stark fussed with a small touchpad and then finally stared Erik.

"How do you think you've done here, Stevens?" he asked.

Erik's eyes flitted to the other three people next to him and their eyes didn't shy away from his. No one looked down or fidgeted with their hands. Good sign thus far.

"Excellent." Erik shot back at him.

"Excellent? You sure?"

"Yeah. My last eval was stellar. Janine can tell you that. She wrote it up."

A smirk went across Janine's face.

"Do you want to add any addendums to that, Janine?"

Stark folded his hands in his lap and leaned back in his chair.

"No, Sir. The eval speaks for itself."

"Good. Stevens, I'm pulling you from the internship and placing you in the Stark Fellowship starting today. The Fellowship runs for a year and at the end of that year you will be offered a position with Stark Enterprises—"

"Wait, I start M.I.T. next month."

"M.I.T. is willing to defer your entry for next year. You are still a full-ride scholar."

"I would take what he is offering, Erik," Janine said. For once her eyes looked gentle.

Erik sat back in his chair.

Stark's eyes regarded him with amusement.

"Every intern in this entire building would give me their first-born child for the offer I just gave you. And yet you sit here like a lump."

"I appreciate the offer. I just want some time to think about it."

"Think about it?"

One of the suits glared at him.

"Unbelievable," the haughty suit grumbled.

"There's a paid salary, so you'd have to get your own place. No more Oakwood. You'd work directly with me and there will be a lot of travel, covered by the company of course. You have been a stellar young man. The last person to have this opportunity now runs one of my satellite offices in Hong Kong. It's a great opportunity and I want you to have it."

"How much is the salary?"

Tony pushed a blue and silver folder across his desk. Erik picked it up.

"That much, huh? With benefits…health/dental. Paid gym membership…"

Erik's eyes read the offer to the very bottom.

Why not?

Take advantage of being at the side of one of the most powerful and influential men on the planet. Get paid for it, and get access to tech that could help him figure out the vibranium he had stashed in his apartment.

"I'll do it."

"Wise decision young man."

Stark stood up and held out his hand. Erik gripped it firmly.

"Welcome aboard, Stevens. I'll have H.R. get paperwork set up and we'll get you transferred over tomorrow. You'll report to me in the Cypress meeting room tomorrow at ten a.m. I need you to pack up clothing for a week because you are coming with me to Monaco after the Intern party on my yacht."

"Thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Janine, say your goodbyes now, I'm stealing him from you," Stark said.

Janine stood up and gave Erik her hand.

"Keep up the exceptional work," she said.

"If you'll excuse us, Stevens, I need to meet with these folks. We'll talk tomorrow. Clear out your things from Janine's and go see Happy in security to get new clearance."

"Okay."

Erik took the folder with him and walked out of the office.

Devika worked on her laptop and her eyes flickered over to his when he stepped back into the outer office.

"I was offered a new position for a year," Erik said.

A smile. A slight one, but he caught it on her face.

"Congratulations," she said keeping her voice cool.

"I have to go gather my stuff from Janine's floor."

He turned away from her.

"Erik."

"Yeah?"

Devika reached into the large bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a bag of donuts for him. He took them from her.

"You worked your ass off all summer. You deserve this opportunity, Erik."

"Thanks."

They stared at one another. Her eyes took in his suit and there was a twinkle in those dark irises. All he could think of was that glorious weekend he spent with her after he got his ass kicked in her home.

He held the donuts up toward her.

"Thanks for this. You're always looking out for me."

"Better get going…get that desk cleared out," she said.

There was awkward staring once more.

What he would give to be brave and kiss her right there at her desk.

"He's taking me to Monaco with him…what was that look for?" he said.

Devika shook her head.

"What?" Erik pushed.

"Monaco is…well, Monaco is a place where Tony tends to get a little wild."

"Is it that bad?"

"No, but it's a playground for the ultra-rich, and the ultra-rich are very different from the basic rich. Put it this way. Millionaires are the double-wides of that set. Multi-millionaires are the working class. The lower working class."

"It's like that, huh?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Maybe you should give me lessons on how to maneuver that world."

"You don't give up, do you?"

He smiled at her and she rolled her eyes.

He walked away from her desk and took a big bite of a hot glazed twist once he was in the elevator headed down to his work-station.

His cell vibrated in his jacket pocket. Taking it out he checked for Stark Alerts. There was only one personal text.

"You are forgiven."

He didn't bother to text her back.

Rushing back up to Stark's outer office and Devika's desk, he grabbed her hand.

"Erik! What are you doing?"

Devika's startled face made him smile.

"Taking you to breakfast, and then we're going back to your place. I have some making up to do."

Chapter 20 HERE.

###

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#Stark's New Intern #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger fanfic #tony stark #black panther fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #uzumaki rebellion's pantherverse

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (29/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: You all remain the best! If you celebrate any holidays this week, all the best to you! This will probably be the only chapter this week because I’ll be traveling, so I hope you enjoy!

Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for her awesome work as my beta! ❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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-/-

“Isn’t that your second hot dog of the day?”

Emma stops in the middle of her bite of what is frankly one of the most delicious hot dogs she’s ever eaten – apologies to all of the vendors at Yankee Stadium because Fenway Park might have them all beat today – to look over at Robin and roll her eyes. At least it wasn’t Will who said it. He hates hot dogs, and while that’s probably good for the health of his heart, she is fully enjoying the fact that she’s devouring this thing even if it does mean that she’ll end up on the Jumbotron at some point.

That sick joke is never going to end. Being shown eating ballpark food is going to be her legacy. Maybe one day she’ll write a book about it.

It’ll be a horrible book, and the synopsis will probably read something about her being the woman who was asked out live on television by a baseball player and said no so that people will recognize her. .

But with very good food mentioned.

A segment on TV where she tries out all of the stadium food would probably be better.

“And what of it?” she mumbles to Robin, covering her mouth with her hand as she chews. “I’m hungry because I didn’t eat breakfast, and this game is going on forever. I want to go back to the hotel and sleep, and you guys are keeping me from it.”

“I’ll try to play faster for you, lass.”

“That’s all I ask. Throw your strikes in quicker succession. Allow a few less hits.”

Silence settles back between the two of them as they watch Will hit his third foul in a row. She should probably be writing that down or doing something with it, but honestly, Emma’s only really hiding out in the dugout because there’s shade and close access to air-conditioning. She already did all of her pre-game coverage and can pretty much chill to the end despite the fact that this the final Red Sox series of the season. A part of her wishes that she was up in a booth commentating, but she knows that she’s not going to get to do that too often. She’s mostly going to be the on-field girl for the rest of this season.

There’s always next year, though. David said it went over really well, especially considering what happened with Killian during the game, and all Emma can do is take a deep breath and let things play out. She can’t control any of it.

Easier said than done.

“Did he really not tell you?” Robin asks. She nearly chokes on her food. Maybe she shouldn’t be eating this. “Killian, I mean.”

Emma quickly glances around and sees that no one is paying attention, nearly everyone leaning up over the railing to watch the game, but it doesn’t keep her from leaning back into the bench and making herself smaller so that she’s as far away from everyone as possible.

“He really didn’t tell me,” she whispers, her fingers fumbling with the chain around her neck. “About any of it.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Robin is shaking the conversation off, but she’s curious. “What? You have to tell me now.”

He sighs, and Emma kind of gets the feeling that Robin sees Killian more like a younger brother than a friend sometimes. He and Liam should really make a club or something. They’d probably stress themselves out too much. She knows that she does, and she’s only been worrying about Killian’s overall well-being for five months. They’ve been worrying about it for decades.

“It really is nothing. I just – I’ve been around Killian for a long time. I was there when he cut his dad off, when he and Milah broke up, when all of the women happened after her. And I have so many vivid memories of taking Roland over to Killian’s apartment after the accident just so we could cheer him up, you know? Killian was there for me after my wife passed, and I always wanted to be there for him. So, I guess, it’s simply a bit difficult for me to understand how he couldn’t tell any of us this.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

In all of her own hurt, Emma never actually seriously thought about Robin or Will or Ariel and how this was affecting all of them. She knew that it was, but she was so caught up in her own mind that thinking about this giant support system that Killian has wasn’t really her biggest priority.

Her biggest priority was that bag of salt and vinegar chips.

“I think he was scared.” Emma shrugs her shoulders, trying to play off the little bit of lingering hurt that she still has. “I think that it doesn’t matter how much he trusts all of us because his fear was taking over him. He’s always so worried about being a disappointment, and he probably couldn’t bear to disappoint you again.”

A loud cheer erupts around the stadium, and Emma looks at the monitor inside the dugout to see Will’s ball being caught in the outfield just as he runs over first base. Damn. Five more feet, and he could have scored.

“How is he?”

“Hmm?”

“Killian,” Robin continues. “How is he? Actually?”

“I think,” Emma sighs, stretching out her legs, “that he’d feel a lot better if he got a call from you instead of the two of us talking about him when there’s baseball to be played.”

“Oi,” Will mutters as he walks down the steps to the dugout, everyone slapping his shoulders and his ass, “I hate Boston.”

“You’re from here, Scarlet.”

“Yeah, well, playing here makes me feel like the damn Joker.”

“To be fair,” Emma sighs as she gets up from the bench so that she can stand to watch the game, “the Joker is one of the best characters, and you do have that creepy smile going on.”

“And for that, I’m telling Belle to not serve you dessert at our wedding.”

“You can’t take dessert privileges away from me.”

“I’m the groom.”

“Yeah, but I’m friends with the bride, and that’s all that matters.”

“Scarlet,” Al yells over at them, “stop trying to get Ms. Swan to give you a better exclusive and figure out how to hit a better ball.”

“Geesh,” Will moans, dropping his helmet to the ground and wiping off the sweat from his buzzed hair, “I guess his date didn’t go well yesterday.”

Emma’s head quickly snaps around, and she steps down from her position next to Eric to walk back over to Will and Robin before whispering, “Al had a date last night?”

Will’s brow arches. “You didn’t know?”

“How the hell would I know that Al had a date?”

“Because it was with a teacher from your sister-in-law’s school. His nephew apparently goes there, and they met at some event. Jasmine something.”

A lightbulb goes off in Emma’s head, a slight memory of meeting a Jasmine at David’s birthday party back in March. What a small world. She’s going to have to text Mary Margaret after this because there is no way Mary Margaret didn’t know about that.

“Huh,” Emma breathes out, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at Al as he paces back and forth looking down at his phone. “Well, maybe it did go well, and he’s just in a bad mood because you guys are getting your asses beat.”

“Go back to your reporting,” Will mutters under his breath. Robin barks out a laugh at that, and even though it’s really weird not having Killian here, a little bit of the world rights itself then having the two of them teasing her like they seem to like to do.

Even if they do lose 1- 6.

It doesn’t matter. They’re 92-50 for the season with only a handful of games left. They’ll probably officially qualify for the play-offs next week even if everyone has known for a while now. Everything from here on out is basically a bonus.

A really damn good bonus.

-/-

They end up winning the next three games in the Red Sox series in what turns out to be some pretty boring games that have Emma struggling to come up with any more interesting questions to ask everyone. It’s easy to talk to the guys that she’s close to because of Killian, but sometimes it’s a struggle to talk to the others without feeling like she’s simply being repetitive. But August and Phillip smile and charm their way through their interviews, as they always do, and the three minutes that she spends talking to Arthur after he hits a grand slam are pretty much three of the most torturous minutes of her life.

There have been no more incidents with him, at least that she knows of, but a shiver still runs down her spine when she thinks of the words he said about her back in London.

Things like that change the way a person feels in their workspace, and even though she’s done a pretty damn good job at pushing the niggling fears down, sometimes they do come back to haunt her and make her worry about what other kind of disaster is lurking around the corner and waiting for her to get comfortable before it attacks.

But , despite missing having Killian to travel with even if the hotel beds are surprisingly very comfortable with just her in it, Emma would definitely count Boston as a success.

After all, their hot dogs were really good.

-/-

David: MM and I are going to Mom’s this weekend, and I know that you have the weekend off. Why don’t you come with us and ask Killian to join?

Emma’s phone dinged with that text five hours ago, before the game against the Tigers even started, and while it initially made her heart beat a little quicker than usual, she forgot about it as she got engrossed in work and trying to help Jeff with the camera issues they were having. It was pretty much a disaster, one that took about five years off of her life, and she ended up having to work next to one of the network’s cameras that films the game for the few times they went to her.

Jeff simply muttered a few curses under his breath and then said he was glad for the day off.

But the game is over now, the Tigers winning by one run in the bottom of the ninth, and even though the game didn’t really matter, it still stings a bit. Now she’s staring at this text, and even though she and Killian have talked about going to Portland so he can meet Ruth, it was supposed to be when the season was over. It wasn’t supposed to be this soon.

She wants to go, and she wants to take Killian. But the nerves over the whole thing are definitely still there. She’s no longer mad at Killian or worried about making future-type plans (okay, well, overly worried), but having him meet Ruth in three days is a bit overwhelming.

What if she doesn’t like him?

That’s a ridiculous thought. Emma knows that it is. But the demons in her mind stay active even if their presence is a little less obvious than it used to be.

Life is weird. Seriously.

And she should really bite the bullet and text David back that she’ll talk to Killian about it.

Everything will be just fine, and a weekend away full of home cooked meals and a place with a backyard sounds really damn nice even if her bed at home will have to wait for her return a little longer.

Emma: I’ll call Killian and ask him if he’s free this weekend.

David: You’ve been away for a week, and those are the days you’re coming home. He’ll be free.

Emma: How could you possibly know that?

David: Because I am a man who knows what it’s like to be away from the woman I love for a few days.

Emma: Ew, gross. Don’t go there.

David: How do you know I was going somewhere gross?

Emma: I had a feeling.

Emma closes out her messages and swipes over on her phone so that she can call Killian, pressing the option to FaceTime him since she’s apparently sappily in love and sentimental and wants to see that handsome face of his.

It’s a very handsome face. Seriously. She’s very happy with her life choices right now.

Killian answers the call, and when he comes into view, she can see that handsome face as well as the faces of approximately thirty stuffed animals surrounding him in what can only be described as a weird pop music video.

“Hello, my love,” Killian greets with an absolutely gigantic smile that has the lines around his eyes crinkling. Her heart is definitely doing that thing where it stutters whenever he calls her by that particular endearment.

“Hey.” Emma smiles into the phone and ignores how lopsided her bun looks in her little picture in the corner. “Who are all of your friends?”

“Ah, well, they all have names, but I’m remiss to say that I can’t actually remember them all right now. But I’ve been sequestered into Addy and Lucy’s playroom.”

“And where are they?”

“Elsa just came and got them for dinner. I meant to go join them, but then you called.”

“That seems like a pretty flimsy excuse. I think you just wanted to hang out with all of the stuffed animals.”

“You’ve bested me there, Swan.” He smiles again, and instead of her heart doing that stuttering thing, it aches a little bit. That’s ridiculous. She shouldn’t actually miss him like that. It’s only been a few days even if it feels so much longer since they barely got anytime to be back together before she was hopping on a plane to Boston. “What are you up to tonight?”

Emma shrugs her shoulders. “You’re looking at it. I think I might do a face mask because my skin feels gross. I also might paint my nails. Real exciting stuff over here.”

“I might help with Addy’s spelling homework, so it’s even more exciting over here.”

She laughs and shakes her head a bit before getting up from the bed and taking her phone with her to the bathroom. She might as well wash her face while she’s thinking about it instead of inevitably forgetting whenever it’s time to go to bed. Emma props her phone up against the vanity so that Killian has a particularly nice view of the underside of her chin and starts her routine by wiping of the makeup from today. Most of it has already sweated itself off, but the remaining is all of the product that likes to be stubborn about coming off. Killian tells her about his day, which pretty much consisted of physical therapy and picking the girls up from school before taking them to Liam and Elsa’s townhome and being smothered in stuffed animals.

As awful as it is for Killian to have to sit on the sidelines, he looks so damn happy just to be able to spend more time with his family. She knows that he sees them a lot, much more than most people do, but he’s always got some place to go or somewhere to be during this time of the year that the visits usually aren’t long. And Emma swears that he gets a few months of his life back every time Killian gets to spend time with Addy or Lucy.

It’s like magic.

That’s kind of how she feels when she gets to spend time with her family too.

Emma opens up the jar of her face mask and dips her finger insider before spreading the green clay over her chin.

“I didn’t know my girlfriend was secretly Shrek.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I am not dignifying that with a response.”

“You look positively charming, love. I think the green is a very good color on you. Brings out your eyes.”

Emma scoffs and ignores the waggle of Killian’s eyebrows while she rubs the mask in the space between her own brows. “So, if you stop being an asshole for a second, I have something I wanted to ask you.”

“Is it how I stay devilishly handsome all the time?”

“No, I was saving that for our next conversation.”

“Ah, ah, gotcha,” he sighs, shifting against the stuffed animals until he’s sitting up and the hair that had been pushed behind him is falling in front of his face. “Go on then, Swan.”

Emma brings her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it with a pop. “How do you feel about going to Portland this weekend with David, Mary Margaret, and Leo?”

“Are you not coming?”

“I was implied in that list.”

“Well, I don’t know, love. If it was just Dave, Mary Margaret, and Leo, I would of course go to spend some time with Ruth. Now that I know that you’re going to be there – ”

“Shut up. You’re lucky that you’re hundreds of miles away. I can’t slap you from all the way over here.”

“Kinky.”

Killian barks out a laugh at his own joke, his head thrown back with the joy of it all, and all Emma can do is shake her head at him. He’s in rare form tonight with his jokes and teasing and that ever-present smile on his face.

Well, no. He’s not in rare form. This is how he always is, but it’s been awhile since she’s seen him be carefree enough to actually feel this good.

It’s a beautiful sight.

“I will make it worth your while if you come.”

The downright dirty smirk that graces Killian’s face after she utters those words makes a shiver run down her spine and regret settle in her stomach for all of the things she just set him up for.

“Worth my while, then?” Killian prods, raising that brow a little further. “What does that entail, exactly? Are you going to come home early and immediately fall into bed to me? Or do you have a nice set of lingerie in that suitcase of yours that we’re about to put into good use despite the fact that you have a green face right now?” Killian gasps, something overdramatic and self-indulgent, and Emma can barely keep herself from laughing even if the tone of his voice is something close to sinful. “Are you going to seduce me in your childhood bedroom, Swan? Is that it? Is that what will make it worth my while?”

“I mean, I was kind of thinking we’d book a flight so we don’t have to spend seven hours cramped in a car together with the Nolans. They play very intense road trip games. Singing is involved.”

His face only falls a little bit. “Damn, okay. Yeah, I’m all for flying there, but I could also drive us. It wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“I’m pretty sure elevating your shoulder for that long is not what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“You make a good point.”

“I tend to.” There’s a knock at Emma’s hotel room door, and she tenses for a second before taking a step to the side and pressing up on her toes to look out the keyhole to find Ariel standing there in a pair of white pajamas with little red bows on them. Emma opens the door, forgetting about her face and Killian for a second. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“A few of us are going to eat pizza in mine and Eric’s room, and I was trying to invite you but I couldn’t get you to answer your phone.”

“Oh,” Emma sighs, looking back into the bathroom to the direction of her phone. “Sorry about that. I was talking to Killian, and I – ”

Ariel’s shoulders perkperk s up, and she steps inside the room without asking, which Emma has learned is pretty par for the course when it comes to Ariel. Emma closes the door behind her and walks into the bathroom to grab her phone, where Killian is still waiting in the screen, and she hands the phone over to Ariel because she knows that’s what she wanted anyways.

Plus, her face mask is starting to crack, and she’s got to get this gunk off of her. The water drowns out the sound of the conversation happening in the bedroom, but as soon as she turns it off, she can hear Killian talking.

“No, A,” Killian sighs, “I am not overexerting myself. Yes, I have talked to Rob this week. No, I didn’t watch last night’s game. You know you can just text me, right? You didn’t have to steal Emma’s phone.”

“I didn’t steal her phone. She handed it to me.”

“You basically stole it.”

“I did not.”

Emma laughs under her breath before walking into the bedroom. Those two are ridiculous. Their friendship makes no sense, but Emma knows they wouldn’t survive without each other.

Seriously.

“Babe, Ariel did not steal my phone. You’re just complaining because I gave you away to her without warning.”

“I am not,” he scoffs, and when she can finally see his face again, the tips of his ears are noticeably red. “Where’d your green face go?”

“Washed it off.” Emma settles down on the bed next to Ariel who scoots over for her. “So, what is this I hear about you talking to Robin? Did you guys finally hash out all of your emotional issues about your penchant for keeping secrets?”

“I still can’t believe he did that,” Ariel tells her, an exasperated look on her face.

“I would say welcome to the club, but you’re already an established member.”

“I feel like I could be co-chair or vice president or something.”

“You might be able to be president.”

“No, you or someone from his family gets that role, I think.”

“Really, because – ”

“The two of you are never allowed to go anywhere without me ever again,” Killian interrupts, and they both turn from each other back down to the phone screen.

“It’s funny you say that because I have planned a vacation with all of the women in your life, and all we’re going to do is plot ways to make you miserable.”

“You are not funny, A.”

“I think you’re hysterical,” Emma combats, winking at Killian. “But seriously. You talked to Robin? Did you tell him the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ spiel?”

“Yes, love, I used the cliché breakup line to explain to Robin that it had nothing to do with my trust in him and everything to do with me being a cowardly asshole.”

“And he accepted it?”

“Yep,” he murmurs. “He accepted it, and we’re all sunshine and roses now. Seriously. We probably talked for an hour or two this morning.”

“Good,” Emma breathes out, a smile on her face. She’s so relieved that they talked. She’s kind of been far too worried about it since she and Robin talked about it in the dugout a few days ago. “I’m going to text you later, okay? I’m going to go stuff my face with pizza with everybody.”

“Yeah, Swan, that sounds nice. Have fun. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Bye, Ariel,” Killian says, waving his hand. “Please don’t plot my death while you guys eat pizza.”

“I make no promises.”

The phone disconnects, and Emma places it on the bed next to her before scooting away from Ariel to give her some space since their bodies were pretty much aligned during that conversation.

“He’s happy today.”

“Hmm?” Emma asks, not really hearing Ariel’s words, her mind still replaying all of the craziness of her conversation with Killian.

“Killian,” Ariel says, smiling at Emma. “He’s happy. Like, he’s got that fresh glow of a man in love. It’s just nice to see is all. I like that you make him happy.”

“Oh no,” Emma protests with a shake of her head. She gets up from the bed, too flustered to stay still, and reaches down into her suitcase for her moisturizer simply to have something to do with her hands. “I don’t – that’s not on me. That’s on Killian and how he’s got a lot of really good people around him. I know I wasn’t around for the last lay-off, but I know it was rough. I think he’s in a better headspace now, even if it did have a rough start.”

Emma dips her finger into the container and swipes the cream across her forehead while she tries to regulate her breathing. She knows where this conversation is going. Ariel is very much like Mary Margaret in all of her love and hope for good in the world, and she likes to talk about these things like big emotional moments aren’t a difficult thing to talk about.

“You’re one of those people he’s got around him, though,” Ariel continues, and Emma keeps rubbing her hands in circles across her face. “Killian is one of my best friends in the world. I know him almost as well as I know my own husband, and I know that he’s so much happier now because of you. That’s a good thing.”

“I know. I’m just – ”

“Scared?” Ariel gets up from the bed and walks over to Emma so that Emma can see her face and see the hopeful smile that resides there. “Does it make you feel better that I’m still scared?”

“No,” Emma laughs, something that settles her stomach a bit. “How would that make me feel better? That sounds like a nightmare. You’ve been married for half a decade.”

“Love is always scary. You never know what’s going to happen when you wake up in the morning. Like, ever. I don’t know if Eric and I are going to have a day where it’s like we’re on our honeymoon again or a day where the sound of him chewing is going to get on my nerves. But I love him, and I love getting to have him be by my side every day. He’s not the sole reason I’m happy, but he’s a big part of it. I think it’s the same with you and Killian. That’s a good thing.”

“Have you ordered a really nasty pizza? Is that why you’re trying to butter me up?”

Ariel laughs and walks toward Emma but seems to step back from giving her a hug. “No, I’m trying to butter you up because I hear you can do all kinds of braids, and I’ve never quite been able to figure out the Dutch braid.”

“Luckily for you, I am an expert in that.”

“Good. Now, come on. We’ve got to go before the boys eat all of the pizza.”

“Who all is in there?”

“Just Will, Robin, and Eric.”

“Well, shit,” Emma laughs as she grabs her phone and her hotel key. “You’re right. They are going to eat it all before we get there.”

Emma follows Ariel out into the hall and follows her down the hallway to the stairwell so they can walk up the two flights of stairs to everyone else’s floor. Before they even enter the room, Emma can hear the three of them laughing. Sure enough, once the door is open, they’re each spread out across the room – Will on the couch, Eric on the bed, and Robin sitting in the desk chair – and pizza boxes litter the room along with beer bottles. Emma has been around professional athletes for most of her adult life, and she’s never seen a group of them so consistently break their nutrition plan like this team.

Not that it bothers her. Though, tomorrow she is eating a hell of a lot of fruit and vegetables to make up for it.

She says that a lot. It usually works.

“Emma,” Will yells as she walks into the room. He holds up his half-eaten slice as a greeting. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I was almost afraid I was going to forget what you looked like.”

“Am I still as beautiful as you remember?”

“Eh, you’re looking a little rough right now.”

“Asshole,” Emma laughs, walking toward the desk and opening a box to grab a piece of pizza. “What about you, Robin?”

He points to himself. “Are you asking if I’m still as beautiful as you remember since I saw you last? Because I personally think I’ve become more attractive.”

Emma snorts, actually snorts, and she doesn’t bother trying to cover it up before plopping herself down on the bed next to Ariel and Eric, squishing herself down on the mattress. It’s not the best pizza in the world, not even close, but the company is top notch and not something Emma would like to ever trade for anything.

In the past, she’s never gained friends from a relationship. Neal had all kinds of people in his life, but they were always temporary. She’d meet them once, ask about them two weeks later, and then Neal would claim to not know who she was talking about. He was always onto the next thing and the next group of people who could help him get what he wanted. Walsh had friends, a group of people he’d met through some kind of club for antique furniture, but they were all obnoxious and unfriendly. She didn’t want to be friends with them, and they certainly didn’t want to be friends with her.

And maybe it has helped Emma now that she already knew most of the people in Killian’s life because of her work, but they’re all so welcoming and supportive that she couldn’t imagine them not getting along.

Usually it helps that Killian is around, but this past week, it’s been kind of nice to get to talk to all of them simply because they want to talk to her. For someone who isn’t used to that, Emma thinks that it could become a familiar feeling.

She wants it to.

Emma pulls out her phone later that night and takes a video of everyone talking and laughing. Will is telling some insane story about a caterer who they interviewed for the wedding who wanted to serve all raw food, including meat, and it’s caused an uproar in the conversation. She sends the video to Killian, making sure that the last frame is her smiling at him.

Emma: Wish you were here.

Killian texts her back five minutes later. It’s a picture of him in Addy’s bed, his legs hanging over the end, with both Addy and Lucy draped over him asleep.

Killian: Same here. I don’t think I’ll be moving for the rest of the night. They’re not quite as good of a bedfellow as you.

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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crashdevlin · 5 years

Text

Keeper of the Stars-2: Fated

Author’s Note: A multi-part sequel to Some of This Isn’t Bad

Summary: Y/n was a fan of the Supernatural book series who wrote fanfics and attended the conventions. After meeting the boys through Becky, she stopped being a fan and became a hunter. When she shows up at a hunter wake, she doesn’t expect the Winchesters to remember her, and doesn’t expect the argument that breaks out between her and Dean.

Pairing(s): Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4255

Story Warnings: 18+ HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!, fingering, oral (male and fem rec), protected sex

Chapter Warnings: none

You gasped as you stepped through the heavy iron door into the bunker. "Wow."

"Welcome to the Batcave." Dean said, smirking as he pulled the door closed.

"It's weird, but... this is exactly what I imagined when you told me about it."

"Really?" Dean leaned against the railing next to you.

"Yeah. Down to the ancient computer banks lining the wall, there." You pointed down to a set of old beige-colored computers. "Imagined 'em bigger, though."

"That's just part of it. The main computer's in a separate room with a special cooling system."

You smiled. "Well, that sounds about right."

"Come on. I'll give you the penny tour." Dean said, heading down the spiral staircase. You followed him. "This is the big nerd's favorite room." He said, gesturing around the library. You looked around the room, eyes flitting over the spines.

"Oh, my god. Is that an actual Malleus Maleficarum?"

"Yeah. We got some real cool shit in the fiction section, too." He gestured to another shelf of books. "First editions, all of 'em. Dickens, Pope, Jane Austen, Emerson, Thoreau."

"Why's The Wizard of Oz on the Nonfiction shelf?" You asked.

"'Cause Oz is real." You turned to him with a completely disbelieving look and he laughed. "Got a lot to fill you in on."

"Oz... munchkins, Wicked Witches... Wonderful Wizard of-"

"Yeah. The, uh, Wizard was evil, by the way. Well, bad. The Wizard was all the bad shit out of this sweet old Men of Letters legacy. Dorothy and her dad were Men of Letters, too."

"Dorothy was- This is weird. Like, I've had my share of weird over the last few years, but come on. Oz is real? How do you guys stumble into shit like that?"

"Wish we hadn't. Come on, let me show you my second favorite room in this place." He said, nodding toward a hallway.

You smirked as you followed him. "Let me guess... the kitchen? This place must have a huge kitchen."

"Well, it's not huge, but it's bigger than any kitchen that I've ever had. The kitchen I had with Lisa was nice, but it was pretty small and, honestly, Lisa thought I was gonna poison her and Ben so she never let me cook." He chuckled, pushing his hands in his pockets. "There was this one weekend she went on this yoga retreat. She left money for us to order pizza, but I made stuffed sliders one night and meatloaf the second. Ben loved them." He turned right into a doorway and stepped down into an industrial kitchen. He looked around, proudly. "My second favorite room. What do you think?"

"I think it's pretty great. I... haven't had a kitchen in years. I do most of my cooking on hotplates." You moved toward the fridge. "A real refrigerator. I forgot they came in sizes bigger than 3.4 cubic feet."

"Uh, don't open that. It hasn't been cleaned out in, like, a month, so..."

"It can't be that bad." You said, pulling the door open. You immediately gagged at a foul smell and pushed the door closed. "Oh, God, I stand corrected."

He chuckled and grabbed a can of soda from the counter. "It's warm, but do you want one?"

"No. I'm good, thanks." You said, sitting at the little wooden table and looking up at him. "You gonna sit down and talk to me, or what?"

"What, you don't wanna finish the tour?"

You laughed. "I have a feeling that the tour ends in your favorite room, Dean: your bedroom. I'm not here for that."

"Your loss. My bedroom is badass." He sat across from you and popped the tab on the soda can. "So, where should I start? I've given it a bit of thought, you know, but you're in control here, sweetheart."

"Amazon. Go."

"Had a nice time with a... fairly attractive woman, who immediately got pregnant and had a small girl who... Amazons come out quick, grow up fast, and kill their fathers." He bit his bottom lip and sipped the soda. "My daughter was a pretty little blond monster named Emma. Sam killed her... 'cause I couldn't."

You looked down. "That sucks. That'd definitely make me wary of random encounters."

"Yeah. Haven't had many of those... well, when I was a demon, I was... kinda insatiable, honestly. Refractory period on a demon is something I miss. Anyway. Uh, so filling in stuff you missed out on, Sam was doing those Trials to shut the Gates of Hell and it almost killed him. He was gonna let it kill him. He was ready to die and-"

"You refused to let him." You finished for him.

"Exactly. Anyway, the angel that I let in him, he got turned by Metatron. Metatron made him kill- wait, do you know about Metatron and the angels falling?"

You chuckled. "The angels were kicked out of Heaven by Metatron. Metatron: the voice of God. He transcribed the word of God into the tablets that the prophets can read. He decided to try to be God. You tried to stop him. He killed you. I don't know what happened to him after that, but someone must've neutralized him."

"Yeah. Heaven did. He was in jail for a while. Jail in Heaven, doesn't that just make so much sense? Anyway, he tricked Cas and escaped." He tapped his fingernail against the tab of his can. "There was this... this girl named Charlie. She helped us with the Leviathans and this thing at a ren fair and... we told her to forget about us, forget about the monsters. She was a lot like you, though. She couldn't go back to reading her sci-fi/fantasy books when she knew that there was a real world full of monsters and magic. Against our protests, she became a hunter. One of the most... amazing hunters I..." His voice broke, so he cleared his throat. "Sam roped her into a plot to get the Mark of Cain off of me and she... cracked the code to the spell and, uh, it was in this book and..."

Tears popped up in his eyes so you reached across the table and took his free hand in yours. He gave you a tight smile, then nodded. "She died. Killed by the Frankensteins... for the book... She was a good woman, great hunter." He cleared his throat again. "Anyway, she's the one who went to Oz." He adjusted your hands so that his thumb was running along the back of your hand. "There's a witch named Rowena, she used Charlie's code-breaker to figure out the spell to get the Mark off of me. Turns out, the Mark of Cain was... pretty much the lock on the Darkness' cage. As soon as it was off, out she came."

"Wait, how did you guys convince the Queen-Mother of Hell to do a spell for you?"

"Oh, you know that Rowena's Crowley's mom?" Dean asked, smiling slightly.

"I figured it out. When I was possessed, I had access to some of Yala's knowledge. Crowley does not have a good relationship with that woman."

"Crowley doesn't have a good relationship with anybody. Uh, anyway... Sam got Rowena to do the spell by promising to kill Crowley... which he failed at, so then he chained her up in an abandoned distillery and forced her to do it. He was kinda desperate to save me from the Mark. Neither of us could really stand me that way. He went for magic and the Book of the Damned... I went for a meeting with Death."

"Death? The Horseman?" You asked, pulling your hand back in surprise. He nodded, before looking down at his hand. He clenched it, then moved it off of the table. "Really? You were calling me out on my reckless choices?"

"Death wasn't that bad. He was actually really easy to talk to. He helped us with Cas when he went crazy with Leviathan power a few years ago and he helped me get Sammy's soul back. I knew he could help with the Mark. Except... his solution, because he knew that relieving me of the Mark would let out the Darkness, was to send me away. To freakin' Jupiter or something, you know? Somewhere where I couldn't kill anybody, or hurt the people I care about. But he wouldn't do it for free. I was supposed to kill Sammy because Sammy had been willing to die after the Trials and I had prevented that. I couldn't do it. I killed Death."

"You what?"

"Yeah. Apparently, that's totally a thing we could do the whole time. Kinda sucked, 'cause like I said, Death was cool, but it was him or Sammy... so I stuck his scythe in his chest and he died."

"You... so what Crowley tried to get you to do in 'Two Minutes to Midnight'-" You rolled your eyes at yourself. "When Crowley gave you the scythe and sent you into the pizzeria in Chicago, that could have worked?"

"Yeah. I guess. Shit, I forgot all about that." He laughed. "Wow, there's still some fan in you, after all. Uh, so I killed Death, Sam got Rowena to pull the Mark off of me and that let Amara out. Amara took it as me letting her out, because I was the last to bear the Mark, and we had this... connection. A scary connection. I couldn't hurt her. I tried. Somethin' about the Mark..." He took a drink then ran his hand through his hair. "She was pissed at God because he locked her away and abandoned her. I get it, you know, but she was eating peoples' souls and destroying shit, so we had to put an end to her. I couldn't. Like I said, we had a connection that was overwhelming. So, it was up to Sam and Sam started having visions and he was convinced that they were from God, but it turns out they were coming from Lucifer's Cage. He figured that if he got Sam to meet with him that he could convince him to say 'yes' again."

Dean flashed a proud smile. "Sammy stuck to his guns, told Lucifer 'no'." His face fell as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. "But Lucifer broke Cas with promises to put down Amara. Cas said 'yes' and Lucifer was let out. Lucifer didn't let on, not for a couple months, but he quietly took back Hell from Crowley and started plotting to take Heaven. Then, we... we track down Metatron to get info on Amara and it turns out that The Darkness is the sister of the Light." He gave you a look, and your eyes widened.

"Wait. God has a sister?"

"Yeah." He smirked. "And, uh, we met God."

You felt your jaw go slack and your eyes widened more. "You..."

"Oh, it gets better." He stood, walking to a metal rack near the fridge to grab a bottle of whiskey. "You've met God, too." He said, grabbing two glasses.

"What?"

He set the glasses on the table and pulled the cork out of the bottle. "The day we met, I noticed you had a signed copy of 'Home' in your purse. It seemed... well-loved. You get that signed in person?"

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the book. "Oh! Yeah. There's actually a neat story with that book. I was at the bookstore with-"

"Then, you've met God." Dean poured whiskey into a cup and pushed it toward you before pouring the second glass.

"What?"

"Chuck. Chuck was God."

"No. What? No, you said Chuck was a prophet." You said, picking up the glass and gulping down two swallows.

"That's what he told us... or rather, Cas told us. Chuck went undercover or something. He wanted to be close to the action instead of just writing it." Dean dropped into the seat across from you again and slid the bottle toward you so that you could refresh your drink. "Guess you and God got something in common."

You picked up the bottle and put it to your lips, forgoing the glass. You set the bottle on the table and looked over at Dean. "I can't believe..."

"Yeah. We, uh, didn't believe it, at first, either. But it's true. Chuck was God and he and Amara jumped ship to go rekindle their sibling relationship. So... Earth is Godless."

"Okay." You said, shaking your head. Your hand shook as you poured the whiskey into your glass, a little past half-full. "Okay. Chuck was God. Did he bring back your mom?"

"No. That was Amara, actually. I went in, ready to suicide bomb her with soul-power, got talking and made her realize that she wanted to fix her relationship with Chuck. As reward, I guess, she gave me my mom back. Kinda. Mom's not quite... she's, uh, out of her element. We're working on it. Baby steps."

"What happened to Lucifer?"

"Oh. He's still out and about, somewhere. Rowena sent him to the bottom of the ocean, but it's Lucifer so he's definitely still around. Cas and Crowley are running him down."

You stood, quickly. "There a bathroom around here?"

Dean looked up at you, a bit confused at your sudden movement. "Yeah. Down the hall, second door on the right."

You gave a tight smile and rushed for the bathroom. You splashed water on your face and took a deep breath. This was big. All of this was big. Lucifer is out and about, Death is dead, Chuck was God. Chuck is God. God handed you the book that started you on the path to meet Dean and told you, flat-out, that it was going to change your life. What an understatement. Why would God have- Why did He want you to be a hunter? A memory hit you and you gasped. You wiped at your face, then opened the bathroom door. Dean was leaning against the wall on the other side of the hall. "You okay? Was it too much at once?"

"Chuck wanted me to be a hunter."

"What?"

You cleared your throat. "That book. The copy of 'Home' that I used to keep in my... in my purse, Chuck gave me that. I was at the bookstore in my hometown. I used to spend all of my free time there. I was lonely and depressed and I used books and-and fanfiction as an escape. I was looking for a new series. I'd just finished reading The Dark Tower series and I needed something else. Chuck walked up and handed me that copy of 'Home' and said... 'This book will change your life', and then he walked away. It was fairly cheap, had an interesting summary, so I bought it. And then I went back and bought the rest. I found the online community, the Supernatural Family, and it did change my life. The friends I made on the internet chatrooms, they saved me from myself, an-and then the conventions... There was this big thing when they put together the first convention and I... I didn't have time to stay the whole night, just long enough to get my book signed. When I saw that... Carver Edlund was the one who gave me the book... I made a joke about him hanging out in bookstores to get his sales up. He said that I was the only one who he'd ever done that for." You took a deep breath. "We talked about you. He signed my book and didn't give it back, immediately. He asked what I thought your character needed in a woman. If you were going to settle down, what would you look for in a wife?"

"Chuck wanted you to... what, help set me up with someone?"

"I said 'Lisa'. You had such a good rapport with Ben and she could handle you if you weren't actively being a hunter." You shook your head. "That wasn't the answer he wanted. He pushed for characteristics, not an already-formed character. I said the woman would need to be funny, a bit damaged but not completely fucked up, that she'd need to be sexual but not a whore... she'd need to recognize your value because you don't recognize it, yourself. She would have to be smart to keep up with you and Sam, strong and capable of taking care of herself but not too strong to accept help when it's required. She'd need to be a hunter, because you'll never not be a hunter." You ran your hand through your hair and looked at the floor in the hallway. "He wrote down everything I said on a pad of paper, then handed the book back. I didn't think anything of it. But... soon after that, I... wrote my first erotic fanfiction. I'd been writing for years, but never... thought of doing anything overtly sexual."

"What are you saying?" Dean pushed off from the wall.

You sighed. "I think I gave... God the blueprint for the woman I am now."

"You think Chuck... wanted us together?"

"It sounds stupid, but..."

"No, it doesn't." Dean smiled down at you. "The day we met, I was drawn to you. It was like you were tailor-made for me. I... shit, I told you the truth about the world for no reason. If that wasn't Chuck interfering, I don't know why I did it." He chuckled. "I'll tell ya, Chuck does know how to play the long game, doesn't he? Gave you that book, set you up to... be what I need, what '06?" You nodded. "Got your input on who you thought my perfect woman would be (spot-on, by the way) in 2010, and three years later has Becky force us to meet at the con."

"And then... you didn't answer the phone for... years."

"So, you became a hunter." He leaned forward, pushing your hair off of your shoulder. "A badass hunter who knows how to ask for help."

"Dean..." You bit your lip and looked up at him. "I didn't come here to-"

"Who are you to deny what God had in mind for you?" He asked, amused.

"A badass hunter who's been burned by you before."

"Okay. Fine. We'll ignore the fact that we were set up on our first date by God. Why don't we set ourselves up a second date? A hunting date. I know you've done Wendigos, but have you ever done a skinwalker?" You shook your head. "Great. Sam's on a skinwalker in Minnesota. Either that or a really angry dog that disappears after it kills. I was planning to go meet with him after you left, but... you could come with."

You bit the inside of your lip and thought it through. If you were right, if God chose you and set your life on the path to be with Dean, maybe you should let it happen. You were not, however, going to fall in bed with him again. "Fine. But I'm getting my own motel room when we get where we're going."

"All right. Sammy's got the Impala so we'll take your Chevelle. And you can tell me some more of your hunting stories."

"None of mine are really note-worthy, Dean. I've never started or stopped the end of the world. I'm just... a hunter, you know?" You pulled your keys out and headed toward the bunker entrance.

"Lemme grab my bag, and you can tell me about your very first hunt when we get in the car."

You sighed and headed for your car, starting it and turning in the stereo. You switched from the radio to the CD changer and moved from your Zeppelin disk to your Taylor Swift 1989 disc. You were certain Dean was going to hate it, but you kinda wanted him to. He dropped his bag in the trunk and pulled open the passenger side door. His nose crinkled as he slid into the passenger seat. "What the hell is this?"

You put your car in reverse and headed for the interstate. "Don't bitch about the music, Dean. House rules. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

His eyebrows came together. "Wait. Did you just quote me... to me?"

"Damn near verbatim from the first book."

"Sammy was bitchin' about my cassettes on the way to Jericho. Man, that seems like forever ago." He made a noise of disbelief, then shook his head. "Turn down the T-swift and tell me about your first hunt."

You snickered at 'T-swift' and turned down the volume. "Well, the first time I decided to check out a case was the last one I called you about. The pretzel guy in Enid, Oklahoma. That's how I knew you showed up. I saw you there, hanging out the window of the Impala like a dog. I bounced after that, but I knew you were ignoring me then so I thought... I figured I already knew the basics of hunting and the rest, well I could figure that out as I went along. First case that I did start to finish was a haunting. A little girl in an old TB hospital in New York. The Ghostfacers went there, but they couldn't find the remains, 'cause most of the bodies were burned when they died because tuberculosis is way contagious. There was a doll, buried on the grounds because they didn't have a body to bury. I found a diary that gave me a roundabout idea of where to start looking. What I found was..."

You shook your head. "It was a mass grave of personal belongings. Dolls and books and eyeglasses and pocket watches and... all of these people's last important things. I burned it all. Several of them... thanked me." You shrugged. "I expected a fight. You and Sam are always getting beat up when you try to burn remains, but they didn't try to stop me. They wanted it to be over."

"That must've struck a cord. I mean, you stuck with hauntings for a while after that."

"Yeah. First non-haunt I did was a demon possession Asa took me on. I was scared out of my mind, thought I was going to be possessed, even though I had my tattoo." You bit your lip. "We tracked it, trapped it and sent it home without a single issue. The vessel even survived. I've never had a hunt go so well, before or since."

"Then Asa took you to bed to celebrate." Dean guessed, twirling the air freshener tree that was hanging from the rearview mirror.

"Don't. Don't do this."

"I'm just curious, okay, because I was under the impression that you didn't do a lot of the one-night stand thing."

"It wasn't like that, Dean. It's not like I go trolling the bars, looking for guys like you who won't care that I won't even be in town next week. It was... With Asa, it was two people who understood each other taking comfort in each other a couple times a year. That's all."

"I wasn't trying to say you were like me. I'm a slut. You aren't." He smiled. "So, you and Asa were a couple times a year. Any other... non-boyfriends?"

"Nah. No boyfriends, no benefits. I had Asa and the gig and that was it."

"I'm sorry, then, that I chased you out of the wake early."

"Eh, it's okay. I got to go get some lonely drinking done and totally didn't have to deal with Jael. It's a plus, in my book."

"Yeah. He was a dick. Took Jody and tried to get us to kill Mom."

"Yeah, and he taunted you all about Asa, right? See, Jody and I, we have a very specific dynamic. We both knew we were both fuckin' him, but as long as neither of us said anything, we were both fine."

"Yeah, how'd you meet Jody, by the way?"

"She caught me trespassing." You laughed. "I was poking around the blown-to-shit remains of Singer Salvage and she caught me. Noticed immediately that my Marshall's badge was fake, took me down for questioning. Which was just a trip to the diner for a cup of coffee and some stories about Bobby. She could tell I was green, suggested I find other hunters to hunt with, but I told her that I was fine. So, she gave me her card, wrote her cell number on the back and said to call if I ever needed anything... Even just to talk."

"Ah, that's why she was the only one at the wake who knew that you met us before."

"I didn't exactly advertise how I got into the business, Dean. Everybody else has dead family members or mutilated friends, I've got a stack of books in a storage locker and a one-night stand. Jody only found out because I got drunk and slipped up."

"A stack of books written by God."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know that 3 years ago, did I? And frankly, it still sounds like a joke to hear it out loud."

"Yeah, that never goes away." He smirked as he looked over at you from the passenger side.

"Stop looking at me like that." You demanded, softly.

"Like what?"

"Like you're imagining me naked."

"I don't need to imagine. I've got a great memory. 'Course, you got a bunch of new hunter muscles I'd like to see up close. I mean, your right hook is..." You rolled your eyes and reached forward, turning up the music.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme

SUPERNATURAL TAGS @letsby

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@adoptdontshoppets @spnskinnyballs

#cassie writes stuff #spn #spn fanfic #dean/reader #reader-insert

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ladymischievous · 5 years

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Short Warcraft Fic

A short fic inspired by the recent news of the PTR build involving Wrathion. So spoilers, but moreso headcanon and fanfic shenanigans if anything.

-o-o-o-o-o

It has been days since Khadgar had arranged for me to stay in Karazhan. Unfortunately, the Archmage had to return to Dalaran to attend to some trouble that started up during his time away. This has left me to my own devices in the tower. There are many ghosts in this place, even the lingering spirit of the Last Guardian himsel--

“I am not a ghost.” Medivh drawled. He was very much alive and lounging on his favorite couch of his private study. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Wrathion, who had been writing in his journal, blinked before looking at the Magus. “How did you--”

Medivh answered by pointing to something above the dragon pup. Looking up, Wrathion spotted a raven that had perched itself on a nearby bookcase. It had a clear view of what he was writing in his journal. Of course, Medivh would be able to peer through the eyes of his precious birds. The raven croaked at the dragon prince before taking off and flying across the room. Wrathion watched as the large bird landed on the back of Medivh’s couch. The Magus reached over and gently scratched the raven, the bird gave a couple of soft, pleased clicks in return.

“Being a little paranoid, aren’t you?” Wrathion asked while quirking a brow. “I’ve been here for a few days, it’s not like I’ve tried to kill you in your sleep or anything.”

“No, but we both know that to even try would be a fool’s errand.” Medivh said bluntly. His gaze then locked onto the prince and glowed ever so dimly. “But you did try to put sleeping potion in my tea and wine a few times. Which I suggest you don’t do again, there’s only so many times I can talk Moroes out of killing you.”

“Maybe you should have better control over your servants.” Wrathion said as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“And maybe you shouldn’t be trying to poison the person that’s letting you stay in his home.”

“Why are you acting like you’re being generous?” Wrathion scoffed. “You’re only doing it because Khadgar asked you to!”

“I didn’t have to say ‘yes’ at all, you scaly cat!”

“I’m not a cat!”

“You act like a foul-tempered cat!” Medivh shot back.

“Oh yeah?! Then you act like a pigeon!”

“Joke’s on you, pigeons are cute!”

“Oh yes, they’re especially cute in pies!”

“You little monster!”

Moroes walked in with a tray of tea and snacks just as the argument was reaching a crescendo. The undead Castellan paused and took a second to listen to what the two were arguing about this time. Moroes drew a breath through his nose (out of habit, since he didn’t truly need to breathe) and released it as a dramatic sigh. Moroes then cleared his throat loudly enough to signal he was standing there. “Master Medivh…”

Medivh’s words died in his throat the moment he heard the castellan addressing him. He looked at Moroes and tried to regain his composure. “Yes, Moroes?”

“I’ve been talking things over with Doc and we’ve both decided that enough is enough.” Moroes said in a firm, almost parental tone. “You shan’t hide away in your study any longer, it’s incredibly unhealthy.”

Medivh’s mouth formed a firm line as though he was about to protest but held back. “And what would you have me do?”

“You are going back on a proper schedule.” Moroes tone was stern and made no room for argument. It was going to happen whether Medivh liked it or not. “You need some order in your life, you can’t just hide in your study for months.”

“Years, actually.” Medivh corrected him.

It was true, the Guardian had converted his study into a living space after the third war. He only left it under a disguise when he needed supplies. Medivh was truly a hermit and he hated it but his self imposed exile was his punishment to himself. Karazhan’s distortion of time was infamous, hours, days, and months could easily meld into each other or stretch out to a crawl. Add that with how well Medivh’s Study was protected ended up with the Guardian becoming disconnected from the world, including that of his own tower.

Occasionally Medivh would catch up on the current happenings of Azeroth. Much of it only led to deeper bouts of depression. Everything he had tried to set into motion during the third war had failed or was undone. His actions ultimately had little impact in helping anything or even made things even wors--

“That’s even worse!” Moroes piped up, startling Medivh out of his chain of thought. “No more! Starting tomorrow, you are going to follow a schedule, have a better diet, and get your life back together!”

Wrathion laughed at the sight. To see the Last Guardian of Trisfal so whipped by his own servant was hilarious. Medivh clearly had no control over Moroes, not like how Wrathion had proper control over his vassals like Left and Right.

“I don’t see what’s so funny, you’ll be partaking in this as well, Young Wrathion.” Moroes drawled.

Wrathion’s laughter died then and there. “W-what?! No! That’s a waste of my time!”

“No, wasting time is antagonizing the Maiden of Virtue and working her up into a fit.” Moroes shot back. “A waste of time is sneaking down into the kitchen and switching the labels of sugars, salts, spices, and sauces!”

“That was disgusting.” Medivh pulled a face at the memory. The taste of that meal was something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“No, idle hands are a demon’s tools.” Moroes said as he crossed his arms. “You cannot be trusted to be left to your own devices.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Wrathion huffed. “I--”

“You are a guest in my home.” Medivh cut him off. “Moroes is second to me in the pecking order here in Karazhan. If you wish to stay then you will respect him.”

Wrathion fell silent. Quietly he weighed the pros and cons of leaving the tower and taking his chances out in the world. The factions were at each other’s throats and his agents had been finding more and more evidence of Old God activities. It simply wasn’t safe out there. Regardless if he was the son of Deathwing, Wrathion was still just a pup. He needed something powerful for protection and what more perfect than the Guardian of Azeroth?

Unfortunately, Medivh Aran couldn’t protect a pet mana wyrm from the blades of adventurers, let alone a dragon prince. He was a depressed man who was haunted by his failures, his legacy, and the ghosts of his own tower. Still, it was better than nothing and the tower itself seemed to hide Wrathion’s presence rather well. It was a safe haven, for the time being at least. Surely the agents of the void would eventually find him but while he was in Karazhan he’d use its resources to his advantage.

If Wrathion had to play along with the games of the tower’s denizen’s for a little while, then so be it.

-The End...?-

I’m actually interested in continuing this in the future but I’m not sure if anyone would be interested in reading it. :/ Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, you can find more of my work here:

Ao3 Wattpad

#World of Warcraft #Wrathion #Medivh #warcraft spoilers #BFA Spoilers #8.2.5 spoilers #Spoilers

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dipulb3 · 4 years

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2021 Kia K5 first drive: Optima, optimized

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2021-kia-k5-first-drive-optima-optimized/

2021 Kia K5 first drive: Optima, optimized

It’s weird: Just as midsize sedans fall out of fashion, there’s never been a better time to buy one. Segment leaders like the Honda Accord and Toyota Camry are the best they’ve ever been, to say nothing of stylish alternatives like the Hyundai Sonata and Mazda6. Kia’s been a longtime player in this space with its Optima sedan, but it’s poised to make an even bigger splash with the launch of that car’s replacement. Say hello to the new K5.

Before I get into the nuts and bolts of Kia’s new four-door, let’s talk about that name. K5 is what the Optima was always called in its home market, South Korea, where Kia uses a Kx naming strategy for its sedans (our Forte is known as the K3, the Cadenza is the K7, the K900 is — you guessed it — the K9). “This new car is such a big departure from the outgoing model that we thought it deserved its own name,” a Kia spokesperson tells me. No, this doesn’t necessarily mean Kia will be switching to any sort of whole-line alphanumeric naming strategy in the US, though the same spokesperson says that’s not out of the question if future products “meet this same high standard.”

Never mind the name; just like the Optima, the K5 is a lot of car for the money and this model makes a strong statement right off the bat. Its design is more refined than the Hyundai Sonata, though the Kia lacks some of its kissin’ cousin’s clever details, including the Sonata’s daytime running lights that blend into the chrome trim running. Still, the K5 gets a lot of things right: Its clamshell hood means there’s no unsightly cut line across the nose, the bright roofline accent wraps down below the rear window and the full-width LED taillights are broken up into segments of different lengths for some rump-end visual interest. It’s not perfect, of course. All of the the creases come together at the corners of the K5’s face and, to my eyes, it looks like someone wearing poorly fitted pants that bunch up by the crotch, an impression emphasized by the running-light signature that doubles as the turn signals. Oh, and pretty much all of the vents are fake, which is a Hyundai/Kia styling trend that cannot die soon enough.

In profile, the K5 almost looks like it should be a liftback — not unlike Kia’s larger Stinger — but it’s got a conventional trunk with 16 cubic feet of space. Base LX models ride on puny 16-inch wheels, but the uplevel LXS, GT-Line and EX trims get the attractive 18-inchers seen here. Speaking of which, you’ll notice two different K5s pictured in the gallery; the gray car is an EX, while the red one is a GT-Line. The latter gets a couple of unique design elements including LED foglights, larger (fake) vents on the rear flanks, a small decklid spoiler and a black roof. But don’t let these sporty-ish cues fool you. Underneath the skin, the GT-Line and EX are identical.

The K5 LX, LXS, GT-Line and EX models share the same powertrain: a 1.6-liter turbocharged I4, with 180 horsepower, 195 pound-feet of torque and an eight-speed automatic transmission. Front-wheel drive is standard, but the LXS and GT-Line can be had with all-wheel drive — a smart move, considering the Nissan Altima, Subaru Legacy and Toyota Camry are now also offered with this foul-weather capability.

These taillights are super cool.

Steven Ewing/Roadshow

In both the EX and GT-Line, the 1.6T is tuned appropriately. It’s neither particularly peppy nor sluggish, with all of its torque delivered from just 1,500 rpm. That means there’s ample power for around-town driving and the transmission doesn’t have to kick down multiple gears in order to provide adequate oomph for passing. This also helps the engine run as efficiently as possible and, to that end, the K5 posts excellent EPA-estimated fuel economy ratings. A base LX should return 29 miles per gallon in the city, 38 mpg highway and 32 mpg combined, while larger-tired LXS, GT-Line and EX versions are slightly less efficient, at 27 city, 37 highway and 31 combined. Add the aforementioned all-wheel drive and you’re looking at 26 city, 34 highway and 29 combined.

A more powerful K5 GT will hit the road later this year with unique chassis tuning, 19-inch wheels and — most importantly — a 2.5-liter turbo I4 engine with 290 hp, 311 lb-ft and an eight-speed dual-clutch transmission. Consider this Kia’s version of the Hyundai Sonata N-Line, a car my Roadshow pal Antuan Goodwin drove in prototype form late last year.

Buyers looking for an entertaining midsize sedan will likely want to wait for the GT. The standard K5 models offer solid on-road manners, but they aren’t what I’d call sporty — not that they need to be. The K5 will spend the majority of its life on commuter duty and it’s nicely tuned for that purpose. The steering is light (if a tad overboosted) in the car’s default drive setting, but if you dial up Sport, a noticeable — and appreciated — bit of weight is added to the wheel’s action. Body motions are smooth and controlled and the K5 handles corners with more poise than an Altima, Camry or Legacy. I’m also happy to report that the US-spec K5’s brakes are easy to modulate, with progressive initial bite — much better than what my other pal Andrew Krok experienced in an early Korean-spec model in Seoul last year.

The K5 EX gets comfortable leather upholstery and open-pore wood on the dash.

Steven Ewing/Roadshow

Overall, the K5 falls somewhere in the middle of the class as far as driving dynamics and engagement are concerned. The Honda Accord and Mazda6 are more fun, but I’d rather drive the Kia than a Nissan Altima or the aged and irrelevant Chevrolet Malibu, a car I thankfully won’t have to talk about for much longer.

Where the K5 really sets itself apart from the class is inside. Like its Sonata corporate sibling, the Kia K5 has a stylish cabin that’s downright luxurious in higher trims. In my EX tester, soft leather seats are met with open-pore wood on the dash and all of the switchgear looks and feels great. Yeah, there are a few questionably cheap bits of plastic trim on the transmission tunnel and door cards, but it’s nothing too egregious. Weirdly, though, the electronic gear selector dial seen in the Korean-spec K5 isn’t available here — you get a standard PRNDL shifter, but given the inherent ease-of-use factor, that’s not a complaint.

Front passengers have plenty of headroom and the K5 feels open and airy, even with the panoramic sunroof shade closed. The rear seats are just OK, the sloping roofline means taller folks will need to duck to get in or out and the back isn’t as spacious as some of the K5’s competitors. The upward slope of the beltline and fastback-style rear window hurts visibility, too, though most people just rely on the standard backup cameras these days.

You definitely want the 10.2-inch multimedia screen, even if it means sacrificing wireless smartphone connectivity.

Steven Ewing/Roadshow

The K5 offers lots of multimedia tech, but there’s one big head-scratcher: The standard 8-inch UVO touchscreen infotainment setup features wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto. But if you want the larger 10.2-inch screen with its better graphics and additional features, you’re stuck with a wired connection for the smartphone-mirroring tech. Kia recognizes that this is odd, though the company isn’t offering any sort of explanation. Furthermore, Kia says there are no plans to update the 10.2-inch experience to include wireless connectivity. So it goes. Thankfully, no matter the screen size, UVO is super responsive and easy to navigate, plus there’s an optional wireless charging pad that’s housed in a convenient little slot just ahead of the center console.

Driver-assistance tech is in similarly high supply, though most of the good stuff is only available through option packages on higher trims. Forward-collision warning, lane-keeping assist and automatic high beams are standard, but you’ll have to step up to the LXS to get blind-spot monitoring and rear cross-traffic alert. On the GT-Line, a Premium Package gets you adaptive cruise control, but it doesn’t include lane-keep assist. For that, you have to get the EX with its Premium Package, which unlocks Kia’s Highway Driving Assistant, bundling full-speed adaptive cruise control with lane-centering tech to make highway commuting a lot easier.

The K5 is one of the better midsize sedans on sale today.

Steven Ewing/Roadshow

A base 2021 Kia K5 LX comes in at $24,445 including $965 for destination, while a fully loaded, front-wheel-drive EX like my tester rings up for $32,355. The GT-Line I also sampled, meanwhile, comes in around $28,000. Across the board, the K5 is competitively priced within its class — even the forthcoming GT will top out just under $36,000 with all the option boxes checked.

The 2021 Kia K5 isn’t the best at any one thing, but it does everything a midsize sedan should. The Mazda6 is more fun to drive, the Accord is more refined and the Hyundai Sonata offers a little bit more in the way of trick tech. But as a fully baked package, the K5 is a big step forward for Kia — an optimized Optima, if you will — and that makes it yet another compelling option in this increasingly overlooked class.

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