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martianbugsbunny · 2 years

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OUAT Thoughts Pt.28--Episodes 14-15

I have watched through S3E15; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—I think Bae’s death might’ve destroyed me even more than Rumple’s death. I didn’t really believe Rumple would be killed permanently. This one I do believe. What’s the point of bringing Rumple back if he can’t be with his son anymore?

—Rumple finally gave up the dagger for Bae. How dare that be in the same episode as Bae’s death! It’s too tragic.

—Tryna be positive here…it’s pretty hard. There were a lot of things about these episodes I adored, but A) I’m too focused on crying over Bae to remember them well, and B) many of them were related to Bae and Rumple.

—In this episode, I noticed that Bae’s face just lights up when he smiles. He has the most gorgeous smile lines around his eyes.

—I totally believe in bi4bi Rumbelle. Rumple’s seemed a lil fruity to me (on vibes only) since, like, day one. Belle’s outfit in the fairytale world, particularly the vest, is enough to encourage this headcanon. And it’s my headcanon, so I can have it either way. *shrugs* *dabs*

—Emma wanting to keep Henry’s old memories from him forever is really selfish. He has—well, now, only one other parent—but he has other family members who miss him. It’s especially cruel to Regina to want Henry in the dark. And it’s also not fair to Henry, because that was his real life, and because he deserves to know that he has another mom, a good man for his (dead) father, two grandfathers, and a grandmother.

—Snow’s pregnancy clothes are super cute. She’s got this adorable pink jacket that I absolutely love.

—I firmly believe that all of our heroes have a single braincell between them, and that the Wicked Witch has stolen it already. They’re all acting exceptionally stupid right now. This random lady they’ve never met shows up, claiming to have been a friend of one of Snow’s friends, and just happens to be well-versed in being a midwife? How is that not s u s at all, especially with the Wicked Witch running around?

—I was just thinking about how sweet Hook and Bae’s relationship could be, and now I’ll never get to see it again. They did that on purpose.

—And now Rumple is back in his basement cage. He’s completely under the Wicked Witch’s control. And he has nothing to ruminate on but his son’s death. There is literally nothing good in his life.

—Regina’s caught on to Robin being her soulmate. I hope she can work out her complicated feelings about that and start something with him.

—Rumple did look *fine* when he was resurrected from that goo. Although, his resurrection is now part of emotional damage, so…I can’t help looking back on that with a truckload of salt.

—Seriously, this sucks. I can’t stand it.

—I don’t think it would be possible for me to hate the Wicked Witch any more than I already do. Also, I’m bummed that it looks like I won’t actually be seeing most of the other Oz characters.

—That fear shadow thingy was freaky as hell. The glitchy way it moved was hideous. But it’s also a fun little philosophical idea, I guess.

—Rapunzel’s dress and tiara were ridiculously gorgeous. So shimmery and fancy. Also, Rapunzel being brunette from the start is interesting, although it doesn’t seem her hair has any magic in it. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that part.

—Actually, her entire introduction was little weird. I would’ve expected it to be a slightly more important event than a side quest for Charming. On the other hand, that’s refreshing. It somewhat allays my fears that the more modern princesses are going to hog the spotlight. (Especially the Frozen princesses. They terrify me.)

—They really need to work on a memory restoration for Henry. Him not knowing Regina is hurting me. Also, the fact that he doesn’t believe in magic anymore is depressing.

—I can’t believe we went through all of that just for Baelfire to die. It’s so unfair.

—I want Regina to smoke that Witch. I will admit, I’m impressed that OUAT can make that green biddy into even a little bit of a serious threat, but I don’t believe for a second that she’s more powerful than Regina. —If Rumple is forced to kill someone I or he cares about, I might have to quit the show.

—It was pretty stupid of Emma to leave Rumple in the forest by himself. Maybe it wouldn’t do any good to bring him with, considering the Wicked Witch has his dagger, but leaving him there? Not the most intelligent move Emma’s ever made.

—Charming is also the dumbest man alive not to have realized Snow was pregnant—or at least the most oblivious.

—His guilt over having to send Emma away is a decent plot bit, though. That scene where he dreamed about teaching her to dance for her first ball was so sad. It makes sense, and it will no doubt make thing with the new baby a little bit tense, and I’m all here for that.

—I’ve reached the end of the post, and even though I’ve found some positives, I’m still not over Bae’s death. Parents shouldn’t have to watch their children die—that’s that, the end, period. Stuff like Bae’s death, or like Philip Hamilton’s death in Hamilton, is painful to watch.

—It took me forever, but I finally realized that Emma was also Cassidy Sharp in This Is Us (which is, by the way, possibly the best family drama I’ve other seen, other than OUAT). Don’t know what triggered the epiphany, but it happened.

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boobav · 1 year

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Medical Attention

Cole Cassidy x Reader

a/n: why are there so many bj fics and never handjob ones I think we need to start addressing this in the fanfic community...

content: smut (handjob), a bit of blood, un-established relationship, afab!reader

word count: 3.5k

Bullets spewed from what appeared to be the cliffs themselves, pinging off metal and digging into wood all around your crumpled form; you twitched at every impact, at every sound, and instinctually budged up closer to the man taking cover beside you. Your thoughts were racing at useless speeds- how had you not noticed your attackers sooner? How had someone like you ended up in such a tight situation? It really was a sucker-punch to the ego your career had carefully cultivated up until now. Another bullet smacked into the metal behind your ear and sent it ringing painfully- but you had to think of something unless you felt like fucking dying- which, unsurprisingly, wasn't on the agenda. Your eyes skimmed back over the area as if they hadn't done so a million times, squinting through the riled-up dust and reflections of sunlight. Dilapidated buildings were spotted about the area, 24/7 neon signs dead in the daylight, but no, none of this scenery struck a cord with the escapist spirit in you.

You spoke, words spilling out as liquid, "How the hell are we getting out of this Cass?" His sharp eyes darted to yours, shadowed by the cowboy hat that had to be replaced bi-weekly due to bullet holes. A cigar was notably absent from his parted lips, typical behaviour when he was, for once, taking a situation seriously.

"We're gonna make for that buildin' sugar, after I chuck this," He raised a blue flashbang to your vision as another flurry of bullets ricocheted off your flimsy cover, "Lady's parked up ahead, we can make it, I bet."

You would've scoffed if the situation was anything but this, "Your bike?"

"Uh-huh. You ready?" Your eyes ran to the weighty shift in his hips, and you nodded an affirmative. Whether this was gonna work or not it was the best bet you had, really. Cassidy's sweat-lines brows furrowed deeper, and without another ounce of hesitation he tore the grenade's pin off with his teeth, proceeding then to lob it backwards. Someone shouted, a sound so shrill it almost sounded like a fire alarm, and as the crackling-sound erupted, Cass grabbed your wrist and forced you into a wild sprint across the gravel road. Your boots kicked up dirt as they pounded against the ground, dry air forcing that grime to cling to your clothing in moss-like clumps. Cass didn't break his grip once, forcing you to adopt his relentless pace, and right as you reached your destination, he, with a messy harshness, threw you into the open doorway before himself. A single bullet shot into the open air, whistling like a stock-sound effect, and it forced from your partner a strangled cry as he dove through the doorway. Poisonous panic filled your veins- but it was swiftly knocked out by the cowboy landing unceremoniously on top of you. Every ounce of air was expelled from your lungs in an instant, and your lungs worked overtime to gulp back replacements. Note to self: never, ever expect grace in this job.

"You get hit?" You spoke in an exhale, hands tugging at Cass' belt to drag him and yourself deeper into the wooden building.

"Sure as hell feels like it," He grunted, rolling off you to lean against the wall and examine his left leg; you scrambled up too, wary of the time limitations, and ripped off a strip of your relatively-clean undershirt. Cole's eyes were watching you with an acute intensity, but you were so focused on wrapping his leg that you didn't even notice.

You pulled the shirt-made-bandage into a knot, "No it just skimmed you, lucky since I haven't a clue how to drive a motorbike. Come on cowboy." Upon standing, you tugged Cass up too; in any other moment you would've made fun of the uncharacteristically pathetic whimper that left his throat, but seeing as he'd been shot, you shut up. "You can walk?"

"'Course I can." His gaze met yours as you stood face-to-face, "Whilst it's numb anyway. Come on,"

He lead you out the rustic building's side-entrance, and whilst the wind whipped up the empty town's street, the two of you snuck from house to house until reaching one painted in peeling white. The town itself seemed utterly deserted, a sad old mess really, but it had its charms. That flickering café sign, for example, had a strangely comforting aura about it... Though it was rather hard to enjoy whilst being pursued by a group of bandits. You pressed inside the white building- but Cass grabbed hold of your wrist and held a finger to his lips. There was someone outside, moving as quietly as you, so apparently your pursuers had split up to quicken their search. A smart move. Usually.

You moved on, one tentative foot in front of the other, and when the footsteps outside made it clear that their owner was about to breach the building, you pressed yourself smoothly besides the door, silent, ready. The stranger's cowboy hat poked in first, and with a satisfying 'smack' a moment later, you pistol whipped him into oblivion. Oblivion meaning sleep, of course.

Cassidy flashed you a slightly alarmed smile, "You sure you didn't kill him with that swing?"

"Mm, I'm sure. Maybe next time." He tilted his head in a sort of... Apprehensive approval and pushed you through the door by the small of your back, ushering you along.

"Alright, let's pick up the pace. Not long now." His southern drawl did nothing to add to the urgency, in fact, it did the exact opposite, which tended to be the case so often it had to be purposeful. Sometimes you really did question his attitude to life. It was distinctly casual, distinctly nonchalant as if his life wasn't in danger every week- which it most definitely was. Still... He was skilled, smart in his own way, cute too, if you dared say it. So sticking alongside him wasn't too difficult a task.

The rest of the short journey went quickly and smoothly; the midday sun beat down upon your sweating back whilst objects wavered uncertainly in the distance, but, despite the difficulty scorching heat brought with it, you kept moving. Soon enough you made it to Cassidy's horrendously parked motorbike, wincing as he tested his damaged leg. The dusty cliffs stared down at the two of you, looming but providing little shade, and as the bike spun into motion a figure emerged on a nearby clifftop; your eyes narrowed, your breath stilled, and in a split-second you drew your gun and fired once. The enemy's own bullet skid past your face, bristling past a strand of hair, and they went down with a distant thud as your shot connected with their leg. Your exhale was long as you pressed your head against Cass' back, arms wrapping together around his torso. Safety, you hoped, would come without further fire. Well at any rate, you were much too tired and lazy to pick your gun from its holster again, so maybe you'd be swerving around dodging bullets for the next hour.

"Glad we're on the same side, pumpkin." Cass chuckled, metal arm patting your thigh in congrats, but, despite your laugh, your eyes were trained solely on the dark stain spreading methodically, thread by thread, over your companion's dark jeans.

The ride to the safehouse was calm, breezy even. The wind rushed through your hair, cooling you considerably, a gracious gift in this sweltering heat. Buildings and homes rushed by, each soon becoming a small dot in the background of your picturesque ride. The world and its inhabitants appeared fleetingly, mirages of another life, and you were far more content than you'd like to admit. Freedom encased you, lifted you into higher spirits, and with Cassidy mumbling stupid little stories to the air, this feeling was greatly accentuated. Heaven, in this moment, was completely real to you. Your partner shifted his leg, causing a hitch in his breathing; you looked down through your lashes, cringing against his shoulder as you stared at the drying blood stain. That, perhaps, was not so heavenly.

Luckily, the dusty safehouse was right around the bend. Cass parked outside in his usual sloppy manner, and with his metal arm slung over your sore shoulder, the two of you stumbled inside.

"Alright, sit-" You grunted in exertion, "Right there. I'll grab the medkit." Cassidy collapsed onto the couch, head thrown back in the throes of post-adrenaline-realization. You dashed off, returning near instantaneously, ruby med-kit in hand, and proceeded to settle onto the floor to be in-line with his wound. There was no time to waste, seeing as if this thing got infected it would become a much larger issue. Cass stared down at you through his lashes, watched as you carefully pulled off his armour plating, carefully rolled up his jeans. He hissed through clenched teeth as the reddened edge of the cut hit fresh air.

"Slow down sweet- shit stings more than I thought it would." You obliged, but it's not like you could've kept moving anyway. The bullet had skimmed him at a weird angle, below the knee and not easily accessible. If you'd tried to tug his jeans up further it would probably hurt...

"I think you're gonna have to take your pants off."

"What now?" The instant shock on the cowboy's face was enough to make you double over laughing- and he joined in with that strange chuckle one does when not quite understanding a joke.

Your laughter faded, and you choked out words, "I said you need to take these off," You unrolled the jean leg and pinched it, "I can't get to that cut properly otherwise." You were slightly embarrassed at the words leaving your mouth, but your mind was prioritizing getting this issue dealt with before worrying about strange fantasies. Cass stared down at you, an adorably dumbstruck look plastered on his face, but it was soon replaced with a mild amusement.

"Alright then." His deft fingers moved to unbuckle his belt and the infamous 'BAMF' buckle clinked against itself. "I think 'ure lyin' just to see me half-naked."

"What! You're projecting real hard, Cole." He just chuckled, then shrugged, a wide smile now taking residence on his bearded face. "Stop smiling and take your goddamn pants off!"

"Alright, alright. Yes ma'am." His light eyes flicked to yours with undertones of slight uncertainty, but a sly grin stayed present. It was too infectious- you had to smile back at the stupid man, but, despite all the joking around, you felt an almost teenage nervousness taking hold of your heart.

Cass' belt slid through the loops of his jeans, smoothly, and then clattered to the floor as he discarded it. The button of his jeans came next, popping open with directions from his metal hand, and then his zip slid with a satisfying sound. You realized you were staring, and glanced away, eyes finding perch on some ugly painting you'd never noticed before- Christ it was ugly. Who had thought putting that up was a good idea?

By now Cassidy had shucked off his hat, boots and now stood, kicking off his jeans with all the grace of a three legged dog; he made a low noise through his teeth as the fabric detached from the drying wound. Whilst he was at it he pulled off the armour on his chest, but he treated it with a bit more care than his poor belt. It found perch on the floor, and with that done, he fell back into his comfortable couch position, exhaling in the pleasure of having an un-burdened chest.

He sat now, leaning back with his hands over the back of the couch, in black boxers and a casual undershirt. It's not like you hadn't seen him like this before... You had. Maybe once or twice. But your relationship tended to be relatively professional, relatively business-focused. Whenever, even for the briefest second, it went further, you felt the sharp constrictions of a heart that did not want a 'business relationship'. And that, especially in this economy, was a red flag. A red flag that was on fire and waving around desperately in the desert wind.

His voice pulled you back to reality, "How's it lookin' Doc?"

"Not terrible. Isn't too deep, either." You got up to fetch a little towel from the bathroom, wetted it, and returned to your post. "But it's gonna mess you up for a week or so." The white towel reddened as you brushed it gently over his upper-calf, wetting the tanned skin and blood-speckled hair; your movements were gentle, probably considered by most to be caresses. As you swept directly over the cut he sucked in a harsh breath- but you dared not look up and make eye-contact. You wrapped up the wound after cleaning it thoroughly, round-and-round the bandage went before being tied into a neat little knot. Cass had said barely a word during this process, and, seeing as he usually never shut up, that was rather concerning. Brief, throaty noises of pain were all that came from him; there had never really been a problem of tension between the two of you, but right now, in this odd moment where you lay kneeling on the floor packing up a med-kit in front of a modern-day gunslinger, the air felt thicker than mud. It made you feel something you'd never felt before in this mans presence: self-consciousness. Your kept your eyes to the floor, not looking up once whilst closing the kit- and finally, as you stood and took a fleeting look at your partner, you realized exactly why he was unable to form words.

He was hard.

His entire body was brutally tense. He was no longer slack against the couch but sitting almost completely upright. The only thing giving away his living status was the shallow breathing of his chest. You had no fucking clue what to say or do and, oh god, when he finally met your gaze it felt as though you'd fall right to the ground and pass away. Though, that would be extremely embarrassing, so you avoided it.

You decided to mutter some nonsense, seeing as he was clearly struggling to say anything. "It's... Normal... For that to happen." Was it though? Was it normal to get hard over your friend dressing your painful wound? Probably not.

He cleared his throat, his words coming out strained, "Yeah... I don't-" But he couldn't finish. His head fell, an awkward cringe disappearing with it.

Fucking hell.

You felt a years worth of unrealized fantasy wash over you in a tidal wave; you had to do something, now. Did you want to escalate this thing from a business relationship? You almost laughed at the thought- if this was anything like a business relationship, you wouldn't have been on the floor tending over him like a concerned lover in the first place; he certainly could've dealt with the problem himself. Blood was rushing through your ears and right as Cassidy was about to stand and condemn himself to a torturous bubble of embarrassment- you spoke with stunted words.

"I can help. With that." His face returned from its sullen position, confusion with an edge of shock present on it; his lips moved beneath his beard, attempting to form words, and in this brief silence you were almost overcome with grief at what you'd said. What if it really was normal, and he thought the idea of doing anything with you was preposterous? What if he was chaste as a monk and you had just offended his honour?

"You-" He breathed out a chuckle, finally responding, "You sure 'bout that?"

Relief rushed through you, an antidote to the overthinking, "I'm sure."

Cass looked down, considering something, and returned to your gaze with a newfound intensity. He patted his solid thigh, once, and spoke. "Come on up then, doll."

Fuck it. Everybody's slept with their partner-in-crime-cowboy-friend at least once in their lives.

You were soon straddling the man's thigh; a glint of amusement twinkled in your eyes as his hips shifted, his clothed cock twitching at the two of you making contact. Now inches apart, you slipped your fingers under his shirt and smoothed over the chiseled skin, lust-clouded eyes searching his for approval, and an ocean of it you found. His gaze flicked to your partially-open lips, then back up, then down again, and as your fingers brushed over his needy cock- he pressed his lips against yours with a moan, beard scratching against you in a strangely endearing manner. Images of previous nights alone flashed in your mind, now surrounded by a mocking aura- this could've been yours long ago. You freed him from his confines as his tongue met yours, cock hot and heavy against your palm. Cass' metal hand met your waist whilst the other clenched at the couch, veins flexing at the strain. That was the part of him you loved the most, you thought, his strong hands that treated you and you alone with so much tenderness.

Your own hand begun its motions almost automatically, stroking his throbbing cock at a withheld, teasing pace. Unfortunately, during this, you had to pull from his wild kiss for a gasping breath. His gaze was burning through you, half-lidded and desperate; it was like being in the direct view of a God, a being so important that you felt the urge to dedicate more than you could offer, to offer everything to him. Strings of praises left his pretty lips, 'keep goin', princess' his eyes now screwed up in an almost painful expression of wavering ecstasy. You withdrew your hand from his cock for a millisecond to spit into your palm, and his eyes re-opened to investigate the interruption.

He was so gorgeous you could cry.

The perfect hair, framing the perfect face with the perfect nose, the messy beard and perfectly intense eyes. You pressed against him another chain of brief kisses whilst wrapping your fingers around him, one at a time. On impulse he bucked into them with a shuddering groan that shot right to your core; the look on his pleasure-drunk face was so erotic you truly thought it alone might make you cum. As if hearing your thoughts, he bounced his thigh, a gasp spilling from your lips at the shock of friction against your clit.

You quickened your pace, deft fingers wrapped tight around his cock and moving in quick pumps. Your thumb pressed thickly against the head of his dick, a bead of pre-cum slipping over your fingers as he threw his head back with a indiscernible curse; the pride that filled you over having this strong man come apart at your ministrations was immeasurably sweet, immeasurably tantalizing. You moved closer, pressing against his tanned neck a line of wet kisses, hand pumping his cock desperately fast and forcing from his throat a string of grunts as he grew closer and closer to his peak. More broken words stumbled and fell from his lips, 'jus' like that, keep goin''. He was rutting up into your hand now, apprehension and control gone to the wind; his expression was in the throes of pleasure, eyebrows arched, wet lips parted absently. He met your eyes through his dark lashes, a weak smirk finding perch on his expression; he looked so utterly wrecked by a mere handjob, shaggy hair a complete mess against the couch, and at once it hit you that all those lingering glances and touches were far, far from those of a concerned friends. The thought of him yearning for this, yearning for your touch, made your thighs clench with unreserved arousal; by now your panties were soaked, but not for one second did you think of anything besides Cassidy. You kept moving, hand tugging from the base of his thick cock to the head, and he kissed you again, hard, moaning into your mouth whilst he twitched in your hand. Finally- his firm hips stuttered as he spilled hot cum over your fingers and his own dark shirt. You hummed in approval against his mouth, soon after pulling away for pesky air. Cass meanwhile let his head fall back against the couch, chest heaving against that much-too-tight shirt of his. Feeling rather bold, you raised your hand to your lips as his gaze re-emerged through his lashes and licked his mess from your fingers- his instant response came as a groan and a firm slap against your thigh.

"Can't say that's how I imagined us endin' up in this situation.." He sighed, contently, but tiredly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You asked, pressing another chain of hot kisses against his neck as he tucked himself back into his boxers.

"Thought maybe I'd rescue you or somethin', have you profess 'ure undying love." He was grinning... But something told you that this was an actual macho fantasy of his.

"Well, there's always next time cowpoke." You rolled off his thigh, settling onto the couch beside him. "How are we gonna explain to everyone that this is how we got together?"

Cass chuckled, mumbling something about the night not being over, and reached over to grab his hat and settle it onto your head. You glanced over, confused- but the look in his eyes said more than any words could.

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