#Fireball x Pound

[doi-dot]

Do you think we’re a coin and fire duo in every universe?

YES.

[orions-starnest]

Ive had some really unknown ships I’ve loved and hyper fixated on notably Dedllie (Callie x DedF1sh) but WHERE ARE THE FIREBALL X POUND SHIPPERS (Clash 2 be Champion) they have to be in love ive found 1 fanfic and that’s it where is the C2BC love in general

[sillyartistthegoofy]

osc (mainly ab itft and c2bc) art dump from today

[lusmeitli]

Where light in darkness lies

Summary: How helping with a panic attack can lead to something more.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Panic attack, a hint of angst, fluff, a bit of fingering.

A/N: There aren’t a lot of explanations given. I have also taken a great deal of liberties to bend characters at my will.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The kettle seemed to take forever. Wasn’t there a saying… a watched pot never boils? Apparently, it applied to kettles, too. As the appliance imitated sounds of an imminent blast off, you poked the tea bag at the bottom of the mug with the spoon from one side to another, then clockwi–

Suddenly, everything was plunged into darkness.

“Curses.”

You stretched your hand out to hold onto the kitchen counter for something… tactile. Grounding. Darkness was your foe.

The familiar fireball under your skin licked up your back and across your chest. Its heat seemed to suffocate you. Breaths came out faster, shallower, harsher. Fumbling to try and find your phone on the counter your hands knocked something over. It shattered on the floor. The mug.

Not enough air. You just couldn’t get enough air into your lungs. The only sounds you heard was the pounding beat of your heart and the ringing in your ears. The panic rose up like a monster looming in front of you, a cruel smirk on its face, before it would open its horrifying hellmouth and swallow you whole.

And then you felt hands on you, whirling you around. Soft lips firmly pressed onto yours, moving with purpose and absolutely no hesitation. Its spark set a fuse alight, burning through your body until it reached your brain, sending a shockwave through you. It took your body a long moment to snap out of your onsetting panic attack and to respond to the kiss. You nearly sobbed into the lips, at the distraction and relief they provided, your hands fisting in a shirt, warm skin and contracting muscles under your fingers.

The heat you had felt moments before was gone. In its stead grew an all consuming need. A soft moan escaped somewhere from the back of your throat. It broke the spell. You heard the person kissing you take in a shaky breath, before their lips left yours and it was over. Several moments later the lights flickered back on. You stood rooted to the spot, staring at the empty space in front of you and the broken mug on the floor.

Your fingertips ghosted over the spot where lips had touched yours and a blush crept over your cheeks. In the corner the kettle clicked, the water now boiled.

*****

“Loki?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure it was him? I mean how can you tell?”

You brought a hand over the receiver, trying to shield the words so only your friend could hear.

“I, um, hacked into the security camera footage from just before the power cut. He had walked into the kitchen literally a second before it happened.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Then a heavy breath. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. Ain’t that something.”

“You’re right,” you huffed out, “I mean, this is me we’re talking about, right?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“But it is though, isn’t it,” you said, rubbing your tired eyes. “It’s just little old me. Even if it really was him, it probably just was some silly prank or a dare.”

*****

The Quinjet in the hangar was your favourite place to work. Even though today you were in the tail of the jet downloading the aircraft log from the Flight Data Recorder, which involved squeezing into a rather tight space. All that to plug in the USB cable and to then balance the laptop on the palm of your right hand, whilst operating it with the left. You had tried to talk to Tony about moving the access point, seeing as it was a weekly task, but Pepper had walked past and diverted his attention. Judging by the way he immediately stalked after her, he hadn’t heard a word you said.

Thirty-seven percent through the download, the power in the jet cut out and you cursed. Setting the laptop down, you fumbled for your phone, turned on the torch and made your way through the jet to inspect the fuse box you knew was located just outside the cockpit. No light came in from the hangar, which seemed odd. Maybe it was another power outage that affected the whole tower. You tripped and the phone slipped from your grasp, landing somewhere face up.

“Not again…”

The panic started to rise in you once more. You felt too hot, the air seemed stuffy and heavy. Your breath came out fast and ragged. Hands outstretched, you bumped into something hard. Something that shouldn’t be there. You gulped as hot dread shot through your veins and took a step back. With lightning speed slender fingers wrapped around your wrists, tugging you forward to bring you flush against the hard body. Instead of consuming you, the panic ebbed off. Your body knew this touch. Though firm, it meant no harm.

You felt their chest rise and fall, a lot slower than yours. Slender fingers trailed up your arm, over your shoulder and neck. His fingertips skirted over the skin of your throat, goosebumps erupted all over your body. Someone released a slow breath - presumably you.

The fingers moved into your hair and curled around the base of your head, tilting it up. And then those wonderful lips were on yours again. This time, he angled your head to deepen the kiss. The taste and feel of his tongue moving against yours robbed you of your bones and you faltered, glad that his hands held you pressed so tightly up against him. He seemed hungry, needy. His lips left yours, trailing a few kisses over your jaw, before he rested his forehead against yours, noses touching for a wonderful moment, your short breaths mixing.

And then he was gone again. Your hands fell to your side and you blinked against the bright light in the jet that hummed over your head. Yet again you were left wondering what had just happened and, more importantly, why.

*****

“It only affected the hangar this time.” You pulled a book off the shelf in the shop.

“More hacking?” your best friend asked, finger searchingly running over the spines.

Shaking your head, you thumbed through the pages. “My coworkers told me.”

“So you’re saying he did it on purpose?”

Shrugging, you put the book back. “He knows magic, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Honey, I love you, but before you go down that obsession-rabbit hole, it’s my duty as your bestie to warn you. Just please be careful. This is Loki after all. Hm, where is it?”

“Whatever is that supposed to mean?”

The pitying look in your friend’s eyes was almost too much. “Oh where to start… He’s a god, immortal and several centuries older than you,” she counted off on her fingers.

“Actually,” you mumbled, “he is mortal. Asgardians just have a longer life span of about 5,000 years.”

Your friend blinked, surprised. “Who told you that? Dr Google?”

“Thor, actually. He had to fill in a form for the Quinjet learner’s licence and we joked about his age.”

“I love you, but you’re weird. Happy rabbit hunting then.” A victory cry fell from your friend’s lips as she pulled out what she was looking for and pushed it into your hands. “You want spicy? Here you go.”

“‘Three Swedish Mountain Men’?” you read.

She wiggled her brows. “They’re hot and they like sharing…”

You rolled your eyes, but put it on the pile of books you were getting anyway.

*****

Late shifts were your favourite, because it allowed you to actually get work done, without the phone going off every other minute. The only thing you didn’t like about them was walking back to your room afterwards.

It was 3am when the lift doors slid open and your shoes softly squeaked on the dimly lit corridor. Nightlighting mode, as Tony called it. You hated it and walked faster. Rubbing your stiff neck and rolling your shoulders, you rounded the corner. Just a few more metres to your door. But someone grabbed your hand and pulled you into the refuse room, which was pitch black.

Cool fingers were placed on your lips signalling you not to make a sound.

You nodded your head and the fingers moved from your lips, slowly, tracing. Then both hands were in your hair. His fingers cupped your head and you felt his breath against your lips. Your hands were on his chest, gripping the front of his t-shirt. Soft cotton. You closed your eyes.

“Please,” you said so quietly you thought he didn’t hear.

But he had and his lips brushed against yours, light as a feather. Your head was swimming, your heart aching. His touch was soft and gentle. He had kissed you before, but it was as if he was now seeing you, in the darkness of the refuse room, for the first time. Taking you in, kissing every inch of skin that was exposed. His lips grazed the knuckles on your hand and a lump formed in your throat.

His hands cupped your head and you felt his fingers fiddle with your hair bobble, before the restraint was gone and your hair hung loose. His hands combed through the strands. You couldn’t remember the last time someone did that.

Your hands ran over his biceps, his shoulders, his pecs, his abs. You wished you could say something, anything, but you feared you’d spoil the moment, that he’d pull away. His lips found yours again and he angled his head, his tongue slowly dancing with yours. It was the most erotic thing you had ever experienced.

He changed his footing to come at you from a different angle, pressing his body flush against yours. He peppered small kisses on the corner of your mouth and down your throat. He seemed to have found a spot he liked, because he sucked on it, his teeth grazing, lips easing the light bite. Before he pulled away, he inhaled deeply at the crown of your head, and placed a gentle kiss on your hair. You felt safe, basking in his warmth. And like the times before, he was gone.

By the time your legs felt stable enough to support you again, you opened the door and walked back to your room.

A smile crossed your lips as you realised that this was the first time you hadn’t panicked in the dark.

*****

“Maybe he’s shy?” your bestie suggested as you sat on her couch, both spooning ice cream out of the same tub.

Loki and shy were not words you would have put in a sentence together. But then, sometimes you were wondering if his aloof stance was just for show.

“Have you tried talking to him?” she asked.

You shook your head. “I could never work up the nerve. He seems… so unapproachable in the light of day. Maybe it all really is an elaborate prank.”

“Or,” your friend leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “or he has the hots for you and just can’t find any other way to show it.”

You mulled this over for a while. “But why in the dark? Why isn’t he saying anything ever?”

“When do you see him?”

“At extended team briefings, but the Avengers come in last and sit at the front. Rogers requested it.”

Your friend rolled her eyes. “Any other time?”

“Well, in the hallways, but either he’s with someone or I am.”

“Meh. Where else?”

You leaned back, thinking. “In the canteen?”

“Okay, now we’re talking.”

“But, again, he’s always with someone.”

“Well… looks like you’re screwed.” She made a show of licking her spoon. “Or about to be screwed.”

She laughed as you threw a pillow in her face.

*****

It was just an autumn storm. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except for that it was five in the morning and had been going all night. You were standing by the window, looking out onto the soft glow of the city that never slept. Angry gusts of wind whipped big raindrops against the windowpane. Your breath misted against the cool glass. Normally, you slept through storms, but not this one.

The team had yet to return from a mission and you were worried sick. The mission was particularly perilous. You knew this because Tony had called you into his office, shut the door (something he never had done before) and told you that he couldn’t give you any information, but that ‘some serious shit is going to go down tonight’ and to trust - dramatic pause - him. It all was accompanied by a stare with which Tony seemed to try to convey a secret message. You guessed he didn’t mean himself, but Loki. Hence, you had chewed off all your nails for the last few hours.

When the door to your room opened, closed and footsteps approached, relief flooded through you. Not a moment later his hands were on your waist, pulling you back into his chest, his presence seeping through your pores. His arms curled around you, the slightly damp leather of his suit softly creaking, and your hands flew up to grip his forearms tightly. His head nestled in the crook of your neck, his lips soft against your skin.

“Thank heavens,” you whispered.

You couldn’t remember who moved first, but you found yourself up against the wall, his hands on your ass. Your legs wrapped around his hips that pushed into you; his mouth felt hot on yours. The kiss was all teeth and tongues. Desperation mixed with relief. A moan rang through the room - definitely yours - as you offered yourself up to him. And he took, greedily. His hands were everywhere on your body, pulling you close, pushing more into you, closer still. A disgruntled huff made it clear it wasn’t enough. And then his hands were under your hoodie, bare skin touching bare skin. A tug, a pull and the fabric was up and over your head, landing somewhere on the floor. His lips closed around your lace covered breast until he found your nipple and sucked on it.

Your hands weaved through his damp hair - if you had any fingernails left, they’d be scraping his scalp. Instead you tugged gently on the soft strands, eliciting a strangled moan from him. His hips rolled into yours, his desire evident and yours dampening your knickers. His hand slipped into your leggins, his fingers moving over the globe of your ass, slowly, squeezing, as his mouth was plundering yours.

The moment his fingers found your soaking centre, you both groaned. He slid two digits inside you, making you gasp. His hips rocked into you, the leather seams on his crotch providing friction for your clit. Your hands tried to fist in the leather, to get to feel his skin.

The orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, taking you by surprise, propelling you into oblivion. Loki grunted, his movements became jerky, before he stilled and rested his damp forehead against the crook of your neck. His hot breath puffed against your skin, and he just stayed like that, letting you run your fingers through his hair in a comforting rhythm. Then he slid his fingers out of you and gently placed your feet back on the ground. His forearm leaned against the wall behind you as he kissed you thoroughly, with a gentleness that made your eyes sting with unshed tears.

Your thoughts were going a mile a minute and you were thinking of what to do or say now. Would he stay the night or would he vanish again, like always? You heard the soft creaking of his boots as he moved through the dark room and then back to you, handing you your hoodie. You took it, fingers brushing his. The moment you pulled it over your head, your bedside light was on and you found yourself alone.

Again.

*****

The APU of the Quinjet was situated - as in most aeroplanes - in the tail. One of the reasons you were in charge of the upgrade of the jet’s internal bleed ducting was that you were small and slim. None of your co-workers could squeeze in there (thank you, Tony, for prioritising sleekness over practicality). Ironically, there was no air conditioning in this part of the jet. Droplets of sweat gathered on your forehead as you lay under the engine with your torch and toolkit, religiously running through the protocols.

“Five more checks, Y/N,” you heard your colleague, peering down at you from the moveable steps he was standing on, holding up the upper engine encasing with another work mate. A whistling noise became louder. “Then we can test– what the hell?!”

You lifted your head just as a massive explosion tore through the hangar. The space where your co-workers had been a second ago was swallowed up by a fireball. It felt as if the jet was airborne, tossed to the side, then came to a sudden stop. Metal screeched and groaned.

Your head hurt. A lot. There was a ringing in your ears and you just couldn’t see anything. It was dark, so dark. You wriggled backwards but to your horror realised that you were stuck, trapped between the engine and the jet wall. It felt like you were burning up and you tried to shout, scream for help, but you couldn’t get air in your lungs, no matter how hard you tried. Then, mercifully, you fainted.

When you came to, you were in the medical bay. It looked like a war zone, people lying or sitting on the floor, waiting to be seen. Some of them with burns and cuts, others in the bays next to you with drips and field surgeons around them. You spotted your two work mates, both with minor burns and a few bruises, but thankfully alive.

A few stitches on your forehead, one arm plaster casted and in a sling, and a packet of painkillers thrust in your good hand by a disgruntled, stressed out medic later, you limped your way out of there. Anything was better than sitting around in the sick bay, where there were people who were much more in need of a bed than you were. It also helped with getting away from the sight of the body bags that were quietly carried past you. Six, you had counted. The biggest attack on the Avengers Tower so far, people murmured. And the deadliest one.

In front of the debriefing room, you were handed a tablet and sat down. It was standard protocol after an incident like this: you filled in your report and then talked it through with your supervisor. End of. So you filled in the boxes and waited outside Tony’s office for your turn. As you walked in and sat down, he looked at you.

“You okay, Y/N?”

You gave a brief nod. He blinked and then tapped a few keys on his phone, before taking the tablet you held out to him.

“Let’s get this over with.”

In the middle of your interview, the door suddenly burst open. A very out of breath Asgardian god almost stumbled over the threshold, a stony expression on his face. He was like a vision from your dreams, donning his leather suit, covered in dust and blood - not his.

His eyes roamed over you as he stood in the doorway, lingering on your arm in the sling and the stitches on your face for a moment. Then his eyes met yours. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t looked into one another’s eyes before, but this felt different. Intimate.

In four strides he was next to your chair. He stretched out his hand and you placed yours in his, as if it was a practised gesture between you two. A gentle tug had you standing up.

“Loki…,” you started.

“I thought you were dead, love,” he murmured, voice rough, lifting your good hand to his lips to ghost a kiss onto your scratched knuckles. Your insides melted at the endearment and his gesture.

“I give you a thousand thanks, Stark,” he addressed the other man, eyes never leaving yours, “for alerting me that my beloved is okay and with you. However, Agent Y/L/N will have to finish the incident debrief at a later point. I require her presence for an extremely urgent personal matter.”

“Get outta here already, Shakespeare,” Tony grumbled, trying to hide a smirk. “Who’s next?”

But Loki didn’t pay him any heed. He gently cradled your face, his thumbs caressing your skin.

And there, right in front of Tony, with the door wide open for everyone in the very busy hallway to see, right there was the very first time that Loki kissed you in the daylight.

~fin~

[xo-cori]

Ellie is sooooo into sneaking around and secretly fucking you in public but Abby is a complete opposite she just wants you all only because only her can hear and see you because you’re hers. Idk how I think Dina would be!!!

kissing and hope they caught us

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: the best way to prove that somebody is yours is to show them off.

warnings: smut (MDNI), exhibitionism, ellie being a cocky little shit

a/n: lord forgive me

All you can feel is her hands, everywhere.

Her fingers reach somewhere deep inside you as the palm of her hand covers your mouth, muffling all of your pretty noises only because she’s not sure how it’d sound to an outsider. After all, the two of you are cramped in an almost pitch black laundry room, the dim blue LED lights from the living room barely creeping in through the slits of the unlocked door. She’d been staring at you all night, though. She could bear not seeing you for a few minutes.

“Gotta be quiet,” Ellie mutters, “don’t want anyone walking in, do you?”

She expects to get some sort of reaction out of you, but you only clench down around her fingers at the thought of it. You grasp at the edge of the washing machine for some support, knees barely holding you up now, and Ellie doesn’t even try to hold in her laugh. “Oh, you would fuckin’ like that.”

You let out a low whine, though she can still hear it over the loud music just down the hallway. She moves her hand from your mouth so she can bring her lips to yours, working to swallow all of your moans that couldn’t be held back even if you tried. You weren’t trying, though. Not one bit. You gasp into the kiss as her fingers curl up, thumb pressing down onto your clit in a steady rhythm that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. It’s embarrassing how close you are after just a few minutes alone with Ellie. She does unspeakable things to you, and seems to have a habit of making a mess out of you no matter where you are.

Bathrooms, closets, backseats. It’s a thrill that she chases, that gives her just as much pleasure as she gives you– if not more.

You haven’t been caught, yet, but you’re starting to think that it’s only a matter of time. Luck runs out quicker the more you abuse it.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, grabbing onto her hair in a vain attempt to ground yourself. Your heart pounds in your ears to the beat of the music and she swears she can feel it against her own chest.

“Remember what I said, yeah? Quiet.” Ellie says. Regardless, her thrusts have somehow gotten faster and the speed dizzies you. Your head falls forward into her shoulder, pressing your mouth into the fabric of her sweatshirt to cover up the sound of another whine– it’s her name, she realizes, still quite loud despite your efforts.

She fucks you through our orgasm until you reach down to grab her wrist, halting her thrusts, mumbling something about it being too much, and she finally pulls out of you. You keep yourself tucked safely in her shoulder as you try to catch your breath.

Ellie lets you rest for a moment and takes the opportunity to lick the wetness from her pruned fingers, suddenly wishing that she’d taken you to a more secure area so that she could’ve tasted you properly– a regret she finds herself having often when you find yourselves in these situations.

After a few long moments, she gently grabs your chin and makes you look up at her, just barely able to see her eyes through the darkness. “Damn. I’m ready to go home if you are.”

Though you normally would’ve felt bad for leaving a party so early, you can’t imagine anything here better than what awaits you back home (or, if Ellie’s feeling to impatient, right there in the car). “I’ve been ready since we got here,” you huff.

“Do you think Dina’s gonna be mad?” She asks, eyebrows furrowing with a fickle concern that could easily be erased.

“Jesse brought Fireball, Els. She’s probably not gonna remember she even had this party.” You reply, to which she hums in agreement. Your friend isn’t exactly known for being able to handle her liquor, and you’d both seen her drink quite a bit of it within the span of a few hours. If she isn’t hunched over a toilet bowl by now, she’s probably going to keep drinking until she is.

So, Ellie kneels down to help you pull your shorts back up as you readjust your shirt to look more presentable; to make it look like you’d been doing anything but getting fucked in a laundry room.

You know, deep down, the thought of anyone finding out is only turning you on more.

[trevorsturnioloappreciator]

Vigilante

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

- a stranger helps a stranger from a stranger

cw: creep behavior (unwanted advances, crude comments, and two instances of non-consensual touch), violence (one punch), mentions of drinking/being drunk, smoking, reader blames herself for a minute, in the beginning of this Matt is referred to as “the stranger” and the creep is referred to as “the man”, no use of y/n

a/n: did my best to keep the creep guy fairly tame; i did not want to write something super triggering, also the romance after is very subdued because i think it would be sort of inappropriate to have reader and matt like making out after he helped her. also sorry if you don’t smoke, just pretend like you’re in the bubble blowing section.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You stumble through the doors of the club, head just starting to pound from the reverberating bass of the speaker. The chilly night air hits you like a crashing wave, inhaling deeply as you slouch against the scratchy brick wall in the smoking section. Digging in your purse, you pull out your spliff and zippo, placing it between your glossed lips just as the cold air starts to bite at your bare skin, exposed by your tiny top and mini shorts.

The smoke calms your thumping head and just as you start to feel relaxed, you hear the screech of the heavy door next to you opening. “Oh, hey there… didn’t know anyone else would be out here…”, the voice is deep and the footsteps are heavy, this mixed with the size of the shadow nearing you clues you into the fact that this is a man.

You’re not trying to be abrasive but you’re really not in the mood to drag through three minutes of small talk before inevitably being invited to a random apartment with this random person. “Well, I am.”, your answer is curt as you turn to shoot him a tight smile, this is when you notice just how close he is.

The smoke from his cigarette is blowing directly in your face, making you shuffle over a step from where he’s leaning his shoulder on the wall, positioned to face you. “Don’t be a bitch, baby, I know about girls like you… you like the chase, right?” His smirk is making your stomach churn, something almost primal flipping on inside you.

Pushing yourself off the wall behind you, stubbing your smoke out on the bottom of your shoe and depositing the rest in a nearby ashtray, you walk to the wrought iron fence surrounding the patio of the club, looking out into the deserted, dark streets.

The anxiety you’re feeling does nothing to sober you up, you wipe the back of your hand against your damp forehead, sweating and shivering at the same time. “Are you cold, sexy? I can warm you up… let me get you out of here.”

His words are muffled by the blood rushing to your face, the feeling of a hot, heavy hand landing on the strip of skin above the waistband of your shorts, causing your back to straighten. Flipping around to shoot him an appalled look, it’s already too late when you notice the man is crowding against you, your butt pressed harshly against the cold metal behind you.

His breath is hot and smells like fireball, it’s making your head spin and your palms sweat. “G-get away. Please. I- have a boyfriend…”, not even you are convinced by your words as you speak them, his tall figure pushes you farther in the gate as you turned your head away from him, feeling his fingers come up to touch your face.

“Stop! Stop fucking touching me!” The words come out shrill, your throat squeezing and your heart beating like a rabbit’s. You look up and try pushing him away at the chest but the panic setting over you makes it impossible, the sinister smile on his face and the glazed over look in his eyes showing you that he’s only getting more enjoyment out of your trepidation.

“Yo!”

It’s a third voice, far to your right, joining your exchange. You whip your head so fast to the sound, feeling hopeful but also seeing images of this guys buddies coming to look for him. “What’s goin’ on over here, you alright, young lady?”, the man casually rocking up to the scene has his hands in his pockets, is a bit shorter than the offender- who by now is taking three steps back from you- and has locks of dark shiny hair hanging almost entirely over his eyes.

The breath you finally inhale burns from the cold and the tightness in your chest, tears prickling at your eyes, the thoughts in your head spinning, conjuring up all the things that could’ve happened, could still happen if this guy just goes on about his business, leaving you here.

“Hey, man, this is my girl, you know how females are. I’m gonna get her home.”, his performance is making you feel sick, you shoot a look to the stranger on the other side of the fence, trying to convey your terror as your breathing picks up, not allowing you to get a word out.

“Yeah, nah… I just saw you dude, she’s not your girlfriend.” The stranger comes closer, you can make out his sharp features, pale skin, and icy blue eyes. His words are still nonchalant as he smoothly swings a leg over the fence, crossing over the barrier to stand slightly in front of you.

Only now, with a human wall between you and the man, do you feel comfortable enough to suck in a shaky breath, practicing square breathing like your old school counselor taught you one time. “Bro, just get outta the way, stop being a simp and let me take her home, she wants it, don’t you, gorgeous.” The man now takes his chances trying to talk to you over the stranger’s shoulder.

You feel the strangers back slightly bump into you as the drunk man invades his space, still trying to get closer to you. Immediately the strangers fist flies square to the man’s jaw, in one quick punch he’s on the ground and the stranger is shaking his hand with a quiet hiss. “Was he bothering you?”, there’s a slight hint of comedy in his voice, all joking leaves him though as he sees just how shaken up you still are, his voice going lower as he moves to try and catch your eyes to his, “You okay?”

You shake the thoughts out of your head and feel your eyes start to focus again, they focus on the young guy in front of you. Swallowing thickly, you nod at him, “Wh-what’s your name…” you’re not even sure why you asked, maybe you just wanted to thank him properly. He turns his head to the club, then back to you, “I’ll tell you, let’s just, uh, get out of here before the bouncer comes out, they hate me here.”

He smiles playfully at you as he steps over the fence again, holding his hand out to help you over, it takes a touch more effort as you’re not quite as tall as him, you’re also realizing in this moment how drunk you still are. It surprises you, not unpleasantly, that he continues holding your hand as he leads you away from the bar to the end of the block, stopping and facing you under a streetlight.

The brunette drops your hand and holds out his opposite hand for you to shake, “Matt. That’s my name.” For a second you just look at the outstretched hand before you look back up at him, a small smile stretching over your face as you shake with him, whispering out your name. “Thank you, Matt.. I- I’m not sure what was gonna happen… that guy.. he was really drunk…”

“You don’t need to thank me, and hey, being drunk is not an excuse. That was really fucked… I’m just glad I was at the right place at the right time.” You look down at your shoes, his words making your eyes sting, the severity of the situation mixed with this kind stranger validating your emotions, your shoulders start to shake as hot tears roll down your cheeks.

“Oh- hey…”, Matt reaches out, stopping short of touching your shoulder, bending his knees to look at your face. “Hey, it’s okay now, you’re okay. D’you need a ride? You’re probably freezing out here…”, your tears don’t cease as you reach up to scrub the wetness from your cheeks, probably smearing your makeup, you don’t even care.

“Yes, p-please.. if-if you don’t mind…”, the words are slightly interrupted by your hiccuping breaths. When you look up at Matt’s face he’s looking down to you, fond expression and warm eyes are all you see as he reaches his hand back out, a question, not a demand.

You don’t hesitate placing your hand in his, Matt’s soft smile is what starts to calm your nerves as you walk slightly behind him, letting him lead you to his car. “So… why do they hate you at that club?” Your voice is lighter, you’re breathing evening out, you still feel the effects of the alcohol swimming in your head, but it feels nice now that you know you’re safe.

The laugh that bursts from Matt let’s you know he was not expecting you to remember that, “I- uh, my brother’s always dragging me out there, I hate it though, ‘s only old creeps and girls with no sense of boundaries.” He quickly turns back to look at you, “No offense, didn’t mean you.” When you meet his eye, you notice a slight blush bloom over his cheeks, it makes you smile and step forward to walk next to him.

“Anyway, I’ve been kicked out like…” he looks up to the sky, mentally counting, “a lot.” Matt chuckles, looking over at you as you stare up at him, listening intently.

The boys smile slightly drops as he now seems to be studying your face, blush still settled over his face, you do the same, taking in his smooth complexion, the slight stubble over his jaw. His eyes are what really transfix you, dark lashes, the way his eyes squinted slightly as he chuckled earlier, the ring of royal blue surrounding his shimmering irises.

“M-my car’s just up there.”, he points his other arm out in the direction of a black SUV, still never breaking eye contact. Nodding, you realize you’re already in front of his passenger side when he drops your hand and opens the door for you, “I- uhm, feel like all the drinks are hitting me now…”, you groan out, slumping down into the soft leather interior, curling slightly into yourself.

“‘S okay, lemme buckle you up, alright?” Matt grabs the seatbelt and leans over you, clicking it into place. The warmth in your belly could either be from the tequila you had been knocking back earlier, or maybe from the feeling of being taken care of, whatever it is, it makes you feel elated.

“You smell nice…”, you whisper the words, sporting a deep blush and a goofy smile, looking up at him as he straightens up from where he was adjusting your seat belt.

Matt chuckles and shakes his head, stepping back and putting his hand on the door, his opposite on the roof of the car above you, “Alright, little lady, whatever you say, just stay awake long enough to put in the address you’d like me to drop you off at, okay?”

You let out a playful scoff as he opens his door, “I am not even tired.”, you straighten up in your seat, almost like you’re trying to convince him with your posture. Matt smiles over at you incredulously, handing you his phone open to apple maps, for some reason, there’s a nagging part of you that doesn’t want this night to end.

Turning in your seat, you face Matt with a sheepish smile, aware of the drying mascara under your eyes and shockingly, feeling no embarrassment about it. “Could we… hang out for a little?”, Matt feels a tug of protectiveness toward this disheveled stranger, “Yeah, wanna get something to eat?” He watches with a smile as your face lights up either at his idea or his agreement.

˗ˋˏ♱ˎˊ˗

It’s about an hour since you and Matt met in the smoking section, you’re now both unbuckled, sideways in your seats to face each other, sitting in the taco bell parking lot. Getting to know Matt felt easier than anything you’ve ever done, it’s like you were meant to meet him. The events of tonight hang low in the air as the easy conversation lulls to an end.

You tilt your face just slightly away from Matt’s heavy gaze, rubbing at your eye.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” His words leave you a bit taken back. “I- yeah… I just feel kind of stupid, i guess…”, your voice is meek answering him, “It’s like, I know i should’ve been able to push him off me- I froze like an idiot…”

Matt’s face shifts from apologetic to serious. “Stop talking like that.”, his voice comes out stern and sharp, “You didn’t do anything wrong, you should’ve never even been in that situation.”, his hand comes up slowly, loosely capturing a strand of your hair in between his pointer and middle finger and tucking it behind your ear.

Something’s making it feel impossible to look up to Matt’s eyes. When you do, the sheer compassion written on his face causes your lip to quiver. Eyes welling, you turn more to hide your face in your hands before inhaling a shuddering breath, collecting yourself. Crying a second time tonight is something you’d much prefer doing under the hottest spray of water your shower can muster, not in front of the sweet (and drop-dead gorgeous) stranger who very well might’ve saved your life earlier.

A slight feeling of embarrassment bubbles up inside you, always priding yourself in being strong and independent and now you’re here, getting saved by a random guy, a random guy who is surprisingly compassionate.

You feel your heart rate slow, calming down just a little as his hand that was previously fixing your hair, comes to lay softly on the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. Matt’s gentle fingers are spread slightly on the nape of your neck while his thumb is vertical under your ear.

The warm pressure from his hand slowly easing the tension wrapping your head.

You tilt your face up from your hands to look into his eyes, he has a half smile playing on his face, a comforting expression matching his low lidded eyes. “Thank you… I’m serious, and I have to thank you, so don’t tell me not to.”, your sentence trails off into a wet chuckle, you blink slowly at him, the fuzzy feeling from the alcohol now tenfold when combined with how tired you are, it makes you feel pliant and open.

The rhythmic sensation of Matt’s thumb rubbing circles on the side of your neck almost makes your eyes roll back, it’s like he was massaging away a knot you didn’t even know was bothering you. “Alright, sleepyhead, why don’t i get you home, hm?”, you nod drearily, straightening out and turning again to face him. Matt’s hand stays steady on the nape of your neck, he squeezes lightly before letting go of you. “Tell me your address? I’ll get you home.” his eyes soften while he studies your drowsy expression, makeup smudged under your eyes, and your dark lashes clumped together by drying tears.

After telling Matt the address to your apartment he turns his key in the ignition before looking slightly over to you, watching you buckle yourself in, once your done he pulls out of the parking lot and follows the directions to your place.

By the time Matt turns into your spot outside your building, you’re sound asleep in the passenger seat, slumped sideways against the window, shoes kicked off and feet tucked up under you. Matt lays a hand on your shoulder, rubbing up and down your arm to try and rouse you from your sleep. He whispers out your name and raises his hand to gather the hair thats covering your face. “You’re home, c’mon, time to get up…”, his voice is soothing as it cuts through the silence in the car.

The sound of his voice travels into your sleep-addled mind, it sort of sounds like he’s underwater, but the almost sing-song inflections of it have you stirring from sleep with a smile. “Hm?”, you whisper out groggily, blinking your eyes open to watch Matt’s face. “You ready for bed, kid?”, you nod in response, rubbing at your eyes.

When you make no immediate move to reach for your door handle, Matt gets out and rounds the front of the car, opening your door for you, seeing that you’d unbuckled yourself, he reaches a hand to you. Stumbling slightly out of the car, you shiver in the night air. Matt takes notice and wraps your arm around his shoulder, he grabs your purse where it had been discarded on the seat behind you, as well as your shoes. “Do me a favor and get your keys for me?”, he speaks softly as your face is resting on Matt’s shoulder, inches away from his.

“Mhm… yeah..”, you don’t lift your head off of Matt while he holds you at the waist, handing you your open bag. Digging through messily you finally retrieve the keychain attached to your apartment keys. “Perfect, thank you.”, he speaks lowly, your whole body is now being supported by Matt, he walks the both of you to the entrance as you slur out which number you live in. “Okay, d’you think you can walk up all these stairs, hm?”, you know you probably could make it up the three flights to your door, but another part of you loves the feeling of being taken care of, Matt was sweeter than anyone you’ve ever met. Every other boyfriend you had would’ve never punched someone for you or carried you up three flights of stairs and certainly not without the promise of sex, and here was this perfect stranger, he felt like the first person to pay attention to you, actually see you.

If you weren’t so exhausted it would probably make you tear up again, but instead you just cuddled further into his chest, your left arm wrapping around his torso to lock hands with the arm you have circling his back. “Carry me?”, you speak shyly, letting yourself feel cared for, even if you’d never ask for it sober.

A part of you is surprised at how easily he complies with you request, his only response being a calm chuckle as he keeps his arm around your back to support you and swings the hand holding your shoes and keychain up under your knees. A small squeak leaves your mouth as he adjusts his hold on you, keeping your own arm locked around his neck, tilting your chin to look at the dazzling smile he’s aiming at you.

The journey to your door is comfortably silent apart from one or two quiet giggles that escaped you, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. When you’re finally in front of your apartment, it feels nearly impossible to keep your eyes open, you know you’re not a heavy drinker but a part of you has to wonder if it was the panic you experienced earlier that has you so exhausted.

Skillfully without setting you down, Matt unlocks your front door and softly shuts it behind him, “Where’s your room, you look like you’re gonna melt, kid.”, the low tone of his voice and his sympathetic laugh makes you want to ask him to marry you, and even through the fog shrouding you, you know this thought is ridiculous.

After hiding your blushing face slightly in his chest you point him to your decorated bedroom door, it’s slightly cracked so Matt uses his shoulder to nudge it the rest of the way open, he deposits you on top of your fluffy comforter and you feel the heavy throw blanket at the foot of your bed being tucked in around you.

The last thing you hear is a gentle “Good night…”, and when you wake up the next morning, slightly disoriented with a scratchy throat and an unopened water bottle on your nightstand, you’re more than pleasantly surprised when you find a sticky note attached to the bottle;

(xxx) xxx xxxx ~ Matt :)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

tags:

@shadowthesim

[paddymoonstruck]

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Nepo!OC

Summary: Sofina tells Charles about a conversation she had with her father and he reacts quite the opposite of what she thinks.

Next Chapter

Notes: Please let me know if you want to be included in the tag list!

February 27, 2024, a few days after Pre-Season Testing

It was a fairly sunny morning in Bahrain. The flawlessly trimmed grass glistened in the bathing rays of the celestial fireball in the sky. Three people stood under the heated air, sweat accumulating in their foreheads. The two men stared at the figure of their female companion with with a furrow in their brow and a tug on their lips.

They stood back and watched her swing her arm back, fingers gripping the club firmly. With a powerful force, a thunderous crack shot through the clearing as she hit the ball with the greatest precision.

Her friends behind her jolted at the sound, goosebumps rising in their arms and prickling at the back of their necks.

Charles snorted, slapping Pierre Gasly’s arm in the process. The french man responded by laughing at their own reaction, coming to pull against the sleeve of Charles’s shirt as they wheezed.

A groan of indignation cut through their hysteria, making both men seal their mouth instantly, slowly rotating their gaze at the agitated girl in front of them.

She takes the club, slamming it in the grass. The fierce contact caused soil to splatter on her white sneakers.

Charles hid his lips in his mouth while Pierre pursed his into a low whistle.

“Quiet.”

“I was—oof,” Pierre groaned, retracting his defense as an elbow jabbed into his side. Eyes narrow into slits, he glared at the prideful face of Charles as he rubbed away the pain.

“You’re doing great, Sofi!” He held his thumbs up, hoping to lighten the murderous look on her face.

“I can’t fucking believe he did that. . .” Sofina stressed, laying a slapping on her forehand.

“Why not? Man’s an asshole.”

Horror blasted on Charles’s face as he heard Pierre’s reply. His mouth agape as he stared at his friend.

Pierre brushed off his accusing gaze, motioning his hands to Sofina for support. “What? It’s true! We all know it!”

“Oh, yes. Let everyone know how much I despise our biggest sponsor,” Charles quipped, raising a brow at him.

Sofina muted out their pointless bickering, as she regulated her breathing. The excessive blood flow in her head throbbed painfully, almost as if it could burst a vein in any second. She fanned out her shirt, irritated by the fabric sticking to her slick skin as heat consumed her being. One could argue that her head was a hundred times hotter than Bahrain’s current climate and worsen the hole in the ozone layer.

The memory of her furry slammed back into her brain, jotting into a humorless laugh. “He humiliated me in front of important people!”

“Ey— what’s the big deal? Their just smelly old men—”

“What’s the big deal?”

Charles’s face twisted into despair, shifting his gaze to Pierre with a deep scowl on his face.

“Will you ever stop talking?” He sighed, massaging his temples with his fingers while Pierre shot him an apologetic smile.

“Those smelly old men happen to have a ridiculous amount of money that they were so graciously willing to give me,” She screeched, gritting her teeth. “And if it wasn’t for my dad’s malicious comments against me, I would’ve gotten the team more sponsors!”

“Sponsors?” Charles echoed, her concern suddenly taking his attention. His head tilted and lips thinned in wonder. “Why are you worried about our sponsors?"

Sofina’s saliva dried in her mouth, unconsciously making her wet her lips as her heart hammered in her chest. She swore the pounding could be heard in her ears, overpowering the words that were supposedly coming out of Charles’s moving mouth.

“Sofina?”

She gasp, stumbling backwards as her head returned to the world. Before she knew it, her leg got caught in her club bag, tripping her and making her fall to the ground in a soft thud.

In a second Charles was by her fallen figure.

A groan escaped her lips, a hand instinctively rubbing on her calf. She saw Charles’s hand approaching her throbbing leg and opt to hold his hand instead.

He snapped his eyes back at her, looking for signs of distress but only found a flooding dam of fear clouding her usual malt musing mountain gaze.

She swallowed the thick bile rising in her throat as she returned his stare, bracing herself. Her hand in his began to chill and quake, causing her to grip them harder.

In their predicament, Pierre had wisely chosen to take his leave, leaving the two alone to deal with the unknown situation.

“Promise me you won’t get mad,” She demanded, focusing her wide eyes on him. “And that you won’t tell anyone.”

“I promise.” Charles said without a hint of hesitation but his growing worry sent a shiver down his spine.

There were a few moments in Sofina’s life that made her wear that expression. Charles knows this because he was there through all of them. They were all dark and awful times. So, now that he had witness it again after a long time, he prepared for the blow of reality to come at him.

Charles squeezed her hand, reminding her of his presence. A sign of hope and someone who was listening.

Sofina applied a weaker dose back, trying again despite the rattling in her bones. “My dad said he’ll pull out all our brands and support if you’re not competitive enough this year.”

Nothing. Torturous silence punched her in the face. The empty grassland filled with wallowing in the ghostly rustle of the wind.

Charles’s lips parted, and Sofina immediately shut her eyes as if to protect herself from his impending response.

“That’s it?”

Her eyes shot open so strongly, she might’ve pulled a muscle. She squinted at him, similar to someone observing a newly discovered animal in the wild.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“Well, yeah,” His laugh burned her core, finding it insulting that he thought it was rather amusing. He tugged her arm, leaning closer to her space.

Sofina resisted the pull, shifting her body in the opposite direction. The contents of her embarrassment was far too great to be at such proximity right now.

Nonetheless, her attempts were futile as he was able to overpower her strength.

Her shoulders drooped in defeat as he got the distance he wanted. A sharp intake of breath entered her lungs at the hot air of his mouth near her lips. His nose almost touching hers as his eyes bore into her own.

“You scared me,” He said, pecking her cheek and leaving her confused. “I thought he did something to you.”

Her brain pounded at his words, lines in her forehead increasing. “He did! Did you not listen?”

Charles merely sighed, offering her an empathic smile. “No, I meant— to you.” He pinched her cheeks lightly, earning a small protest from the back of her throat. “You— Not your company!”

The indication hackled at her system. Perhaps not clearly understanding the heartfelt weight of his words.

She reeled back from his hold, mystified cross in her brow. “I am talking about person me!” Her sneer went straight to Charles’s heart, forcing out a breath from the deepest parts of his patience.

“You know what I mean,” He drawled, getting to his feet and offering to help her up.

Sofina looked away, but nonetheless gripped his helping hand. “Alright . . .”

“Sofie,” He called, tugging her closer. Due to their differences in height, Sofina’s face plummeted at his hard chest when he unexpectedly cocooned her into an embrace. “It’s going to be okay. You don’t know what those people think about you yet until you’ve talked to them again, yes?”

Her grunt was muffled as she dug her fave further onto his shirt. “I don’t need to know. My dad said I was an unreliable child trying hard, and miserably failing, to sound like an adult.”

Charles wasn’t surprised in the slightest. The relationship between Sofina and her father was similar to pa maze without an exit. Mr. Saviano himself is an outspoken intimidating man who has done nothing but criticize his daughter’s every move.

“But you know that’s not true.” He insisted, tightening his hold on her as if to squeeze out her negativity.

“He still said it. You know they worship the ground he walks on,” She hackled, jutting her chin up to look at Charles’s face. “Long live Amarigo Saviano, patron saint of the self-centered and money grabbing.”

Charles made a razzing noise at the back of his throat, taken aback by the sudden insult. “Well—”

Sofina was also unable to contain a smirk as she saw Charles struggling to maintain a poker face. “You can laugh, it’s funny,” She muttered, laying her cheek below his breastbone, shoulders beginning to shake.

“No . . . uh— heh, as I was saying— stop laughing!” There he goes, infected by the girl shamelessly giggling at her own joke.

“Oke. . .” She tried, burying her head on the soft material of his shirt.

Charles cleared his throat, but the smile on his face remained. “I spoke to Nicolas this morning and he said there was someone who didn’t seem to care about what your father said at that party last night . . .”

Doubt and curiosity simmered in Sofina’s veins at his claim. “He was probably too drunk to actually comprehend what he was saying, then” She scoffed.

Charles continued, paying no mind to her reply. “Maximilian Rothchild doesn’t look like a heavy drinker,”

At that, Sofina’s head shot up from his chest, eyes wide as if she’d seen an alien. “You’re kidding . . . Charles I fucking swear—“

“He called Fred, asking about the team and was hoping to set up a meeting with us as soon as possible.”

“Holy shit . . .” She squealed, airy and full of disbelief. “Maximilian Rothchild, huh?”

Charles’s lip tugged into a teasing smirk at the look on her face. “Didn’t you go out with him?”

She grimaced, lip curling in distaste at his allegation.

It wasn’t an allegation at all. She did go on a date with him a several years back when she went to high school in France. It didn’t blossom into a relationship as they both hope it would due to unforeseen circumstances between their families.

“It wasn’t anything serious.” She muttered. “He thought I was pretty and asked me out, he wasn’t bad to look at either so I agreed— you know this story already,”

Charles chuckled at the flooding irritation in her voice, finally nodding to relieve her from the storm of ragging in her eyes.

“You agreed, you went on the date and completely blew it,”

Sofina whacked him in the shoulder, a frown forming at her lips. “No I didn’t! Our families were— and still are business rivals. But I still don’t get the point of trying to square up to such influential people . . .” She shook her head.

The Rothchilds have been around longer than the Savianos. Back then, it was clear that they were barely at the fourth of their efforts when they mercilessly dragged the Saviano name into the mud and dubbed them as “Amateur Magnets”.

The insult did not leave a scratch on Sofina’s pride, and truthfully she found it more hilarious than embarrassing, for she wasn’t delusional enough to believe they would ever stand a chance against a family who established the whole European banking system. The Rothchilds had every right to throw stones at them. Biting the hand that feeds you never ended well for anybody.

Her father was picking a fight he had already lost the moment it began.

From then on, he declared never to bring a Rothchild before him and in his home.

“When you say he wants a meeting with the team, does that include me?” Sofina wondered.

She may have a big impact on the team but her properties solely remain in brand sponsorships. Due to her age and naivety, according to her father, she cannot touch into the her father’s duties to Ferrari when it comes to team negotiations.

“Definitely.” Charles reassured, head titled down to her glazed gaze. “He said he wanted to talk about sponsoring the team, not buying stocks. So technically, that means for you.”

A smile twitched on Sofina’s lip as she heard Charles’s explanation. “When did become such a smart-ass?”

He laughed, eyes glistening with mirth. “I listen when you talk.”

As if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Glad I can contribute to your knowledge.” She scoffed. “It will come handy one day, just you wait.”

Charles glances down at Sofina, a crease drew on his brow as he observed the same expression on her face.

“You look like you’re about to burst a vein,” He addressed the changed in her mood as he squeezed her side, attempting to bring her head back on earth. “Out with it.”

Sofina extended her hand to flick softly at his cheek, causing him to grimace and glare down at her.

Sofina smiled but sighed, shaking her head. “You’re not a bad driver, Charles . . . I hope you know that.”

Charles kept his gaze at her despite having laid her head back on his chest. Away from her view, the stress on his face carefully melted into a look of delicacy. Fondness bloomed at his chest further more as her grip on him tightened, nearly knocking all the words from his brain.

He cleared his throat, and found himself chuckling at the sipping feelings spilling through his devices.

Sofina’s face twisted into curiosity at his sudden display of amusement. She was about to crane her neck upwards to catch a view of what got him laughing but was denied of this as a palm panned on the back of her head, pressing her back onto her previous position on Charles’s body.

Charles ignored her muffled complaints, his fingers dipping into the seams of her hair and ultimately taking out the clip that held it in a poised bun. He watched as her mahogany tresses flowed through her back, internally shivering as it caressed the arm he had wrapped around her waist.

He admired the bright change of tone as her locks attracted the rays of the sunlight, creating a hypnotic reflection on her head that seemed to take half of what’s left of his consciousness.

The short circuit of his brain took effect as his hands worked faster than his mind. His fingers tipped her chin up, immediately being taken by the delicate features presented upon him.

A pout sitting prettily on her lips as she looked up at him. “Give me that . . .” She huffed, taking the plastic hair clam from him.

He let’s her take it. It’s hers after all. He’ll give her everything in a blink of an eye if she asks. One look from her has him going blank and as her voice floods his head, a pinnacle of sanity whispers in his ear to kneel at her feet and be at her side overrides any form of reason that might pull him away from this angelic fate.

No, he can never tell her that. So instead, he smiles and lays a kiss on the crown of her head, hoping to vanish his silly fantasies.

Tag-list: @seairsunset@mindflay3r@tangointhequango@bwormie@eugene-emt-roe@herondalism@comfortzonequeen@weekendlusting@nomie-11@i-ship-bullshit-2020@cc13723things@charlesgirl16@namgification@charizznorizz@missenclod@outerudeth @lady-laura-speaks @fandomscompilation @bwormie @embersparklz @butterfly-lover @sargeantdumbass @a-moment-captured @starshiips

[happy74827]

sub!matthew x reader PLEASE I need him. I am loosing it !!!!😇

Surprises and Candles

[Matthew Patel x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: It's your one-year anniversary, and given the surprise he gave you, you decide it's time for him to have a surprise of his own.

WC: 2393

Category: Spice/Lime

One Sub!Matthew coming right up 🫡🫡

『••✎••』

“Close your eyes!” Your hands covered his shoulders. You were a giggling mess while he looked at you, slightly confused. His body was trembling a little, waiting for something to happen. It was almost midnight, and he was dressed in all black with a small red tie.

You had been dating for almost a year and had never gone any farther than kissing, but you were determined to change that. Given that it was your anniversary and you’d just gotten back from a Broadway show, you decided it was time. You had seen him all dolled up, and it was hot, so you wanted to make a night of it.

Matthew was like a little puppy when he got excited. He was getting giddy with anticipation just from your smile. When he first met you, he didn't believe that someone so lovely would want to spend their life with a… well, with him. But now he had his own place and a good paying job, he felt like he could really make it as an actor, but it was all because of you.

It was his idea for the Broadway show. You mentioned to him about how you were interested in musical theater. You mentioned a show all the way back in your childhood, and since Matthew memorized everything that you’ve ever said, he remembered it. And when it made a return to Broadway, he made sure he had the tickets to see it with you.

You were over the moon, especially when the leading lady tripped and fell on her face on opening night. A little comedy to lighten the mood, right? Matthew got all dolled up, you dressed to the nines, and you went out to celebrate your one-year anniversary. It was perfect.

The moment you two got home that was when your plan to make the night special began.

He still stood there, still confused, but he was a good sport about it. So he obliged and closed his eyes. You told him to stay put as you ran into the bathroom. When you came out, you had a few items in your hand. He looked so cute and handsome that you couldn't help but kiss his cheek before you stepped back.

"I want you to hear my voice, and only my voice, okay? I don't want to distract you," you said. “But… uh, it involves your fireballs.”

You could feel his body tense up. His jaw dropped, but you ignored him as you backed away, placing a set of earbuds in your ears.

You figured the best way to calm him down was to hum an old lullaby he heard from you. As you began to hum, you changed into your “surprise.” Matthew was mumbling up a storm. You couldn’t hear him that well, but you could tell he was worried. Scared.

It didn't help when you finally told him to open his eyes because when his eyes met yours, they went wide. His heart was racing, and so was yours.

“Do you like it?”

It was something you’d never thought you’d wear in a million years—a red, feathered bridal robe. The top was adorned with ruffles, while the bottom was simple but elegant. It was made of silk and came in a small box.

You remembered when Matthew took you out to eat one time. You had mentioned your grandma used to own one and would wear it all the time. He thought it was the cutest thing ever, and since he seemed sad when you mentioned you didn't end up having it, you had one delivered.

He looked over at you. His jaw was on the floor, his eyes glued to you. You were smiling and twirling and laughing, all for him.

"I got it at Victoria’s Secret. A pain to get there, but every time I do, it’s worth it."

He gulped, "…who’s Victoria, and why is she in secret?"

You rolled your eyes, walking over to him, "Matty, it’s a store. Victoria is the store."

He still looked confused as you put your arms around his neck. Your heart was pounding, not because of him but the fact that all those memories of your grandmother in the robe flashed in your head. You hadn't seen her in years, and here you were, wearing something so feminine in her honor. You gave him a little wink as you leaned in and kissed him.

His arms wrapped around you, and he kissed you back. His tongue pressed against your lips. You opened your mouth for him and let him deepen the kiss. It felt like he wanted to swallow you whole. His hand reached up and started to caress your cheek. His other arm squeezed your ass.

When he finally pulled away, he had this gleam in his eyes. A look you've only seen on his face when he talked about his dream to be an actor.

"Don’t I look like Mrs. Claus? I feel like Mrs. Claus.” You giggled again. You tugged at his tie, pulling him even closer. Of course, he was already close. You were practically in his lap. But you wanted to make sure he got the message.

Again, Matthew didn’t say anything. He just gulped down some more air. He looked at you up and down, and it honestly felt like the whole room was getting warmer. You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, "Matty, what's wrong?"

His body shook a little, and he gulped. “N-Nothing, I just…”

"I thought you liked it?" Your voice was soft. Your eyes met his, and you could feel your heart thumping even harder. You really were nervous now. With every minute he didn’t speak, the more scared you became.

…Did he hate it? Was it a bad idea? Did you overdo it? Oh God, what if you went too far?

Your words must’ve finally been processed in his mind because he quickly shook his head. He bit his lip as he stared at you, "No, oh no, no, no, I do, I love it, you're amazing, this... this is amazing." He paused again and took another breath. His eyes widened, "I'm just... wow."

"Thank god. I was worried." You laughed nervously. "This was expensive, so, uh, if you don't like it..."

"You look like you. I love it. It's perfect."

"Are you sure? Because-"

"I'm absolutely positively sure. I promise this is... oh my... wow."

Matthew was still a bit shaky, but you were relieved. It was dark in the room, but even in the dark, you could tell he was blushing. It was a look you could get used to. You felt the butterflies in your stomach, and you gave him a little smirk,

"Well, since you like it so much..." You started to kiss his neck and nibbled his ear. "...and you're so handsome..." You could feel his grip tighten. His face was in the crook of your neck, and you could feel his hot breath. "...I can show you just how much I love it."

"Is that what my fireballs are..." His voice was so raspy. You loved when he sounded like that. He only spoke like that when he was completely and utterly flustered. "...are for?"

You let out a little giggle as you took his hands into yours. You intertwined your fingers and kissed the back of his hand, "Kinda, I have candles. A lot of them."

"Wait, why? What for?" He sounded so confused, and you just smiled as you pulled him into the bedroom. You were right about the candles; there were practically thirty of them, all lined up and ready to be lit. And there was a small table set up with a nice bottle of champagne and a bottle of red wine. The bottle was already open.

"I might have been a little lazy... but looking at it, you can tell it's a lot of work," You admitted. "And I was trying to be fancy, but-"

"This is great!" Matthew finally broke his hand free from yours, and he immediately took off his jacket. You could feel his smile. He snapped his fingers, the tip of his index became a small flame, and he quickly lit each of the candles. Luckily for you, Matthew used his mystical powers enough to know the exact amount of power needed to light every single candle in this room. The first time he "attempted" to use his fireballs on purpose, he almost burnt the apartment complex down. It was his apartment, too, fortunately.

Once all the candles were lit, he waved away the flame from his finger and turned towards you again, waiting. His mouth hung open a little, his eyes wide with anticipation. He was trying to control his excitement, but it was no use. You saw it written on his face. He looked like a kid waiting to open a birthday present.

You took the initiative; you always had to; Matthew was still in his own head. He had a tendency to overthink things. It took some time for you two to get to know each other, and he still had that anxiety and self-doubt that'd been ingrained into him since his youth. But with some time, some patience, some trust, and love, he finally started to believe you.

And now here you were, kissing him passionately and slowly, pulling off the tie that hung around his neck. He reached up and touched your cheek as you kissed him, your hands still caressing the small of his back. He made a small noise; the sound was music to your ears. He made the cutest sounds when he was flustered. You let out a giggle as you pulled away, "Oh, I'm just getting started, Matthew Patel."

You kissed his cheek, his neck, his jaw; you even nibbled at his earlobe. You could hear him trying to take in air, but he was failing. His hands went around you, squeezing your body as if to tell you he was yours. All yours.

You could hear his voice break a little as he whispered your name. It was almost inaudible, but you heard it, and it made your heart beat even faster. You pressed your body against him as you moved him to the bed, laying him down. He looked up at you with those beautiful brown eyes. The sparkle and glint in them told you that he wanted you, but he was too scared to ask. You kissed him again, letting him relax.

He moaned into the kiss, and you smiled. He had no idea what he did to you. You straddled his body as you pressed your chest to his. You could feel his body temperature rising, and despite the fact he was always above room temperature, he became unbelievably hot when he got this worked up.

He tried to kiss you back, but his body was shaking so hard that it was impossible. His eyes closed tightly, and his arms wrapped around you. You took in a deep breath and unbuttoned the first few of his buttons before kissing his neck. You could hear him gulping down more air, trying to stay calm, as your lips met his collarbone. His body shivered beneath you. You sucked, bit, kissed, and nibbled at his skin, all while working on the buttons of his shirt.

When you pulled back, you had to laugh. Matthew was in a trance. He wasn't saying a word; his hands were now limp on the bed. He looked like he had just been hit with a bolt of lightning or like you had just kicked him out of a plane with no parachute. His face was bright red and glistening from sweat. His hair was sticking up in all different directions. His jaw was practically on the floor, and his eyes were glazed over.

He didn't even seem to realize you had stopped kissing him because his arms started to flail around as he started to sit up, "Wh-wh-why did-" He swallowed hard, "What was-"

You kissed his cheek, and he fell back into bed again. His chest was still rising and falling. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack. He opened his mouth and then closed it again as if he was trying to say something. Finally, he mustered the strength to mumble your name.

You only replied with more laughter as you continued to kiss his chest and stomach. His hands went around your waist. You could feel him trying to grab hold of something, anything. He couldn't even control his own body anymore. His fingers were shaking, and the grip on your waist was so tight that you were sure it would bruise. But he was still breathing. His eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe.

You knew you had to stop teasing him before you went any further because he wasn't going to last very long if you continued to tease him. And the longer you teased him, the more he would panic and the less likely he would be to enjoy it. So you slowly kissed his chest and his stomach, and then your lips went back to his.

His breathing finally started to even out when he returned your kisses, but he still had a little twitch in his body. A sign of nervousness and anticipation, but still, he was relaxed enough to be able to kiss you back. He was a lot calmer now than he was when he first saw you in the robe. And that was your goal all along.

So, as you two lay there, kissing in the candlelight, you knew you made the right decision. You knew Matthew was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. The moment your eyes met his, that first time he helped you with your luggage, it all made sense. It was almost as if the world knew you two were meant to be.

And, as the robe shredded off you and his hands met your bare skin, you realized he felt the same. And as his kisses went lower and lower, and his fingers gripped your thighs, you knew this was going to be a night you would never forget.

[littlelostmabari]

I went off script. I needed to procrastinate.

Ok look. So, and stay with me here, @miradelletarot posted a kiss roulette and then @waterdeep-weavemoss posted an ask and I realized that Mira might want to read snippets instead of getting asks so I asked an RNG to give me a prompt and I got #21 first but I dun wanna choose that’s why I wanted a RNG in the first place!!!!!11!!

So I asked again and here is #5: "A firm kiss". Not beta read, written in an hour, so forgive me if there are typos.

Pairing: Gale x gn!Reader (undescribed other than you're shorter than Gale)

Wordcount: 1k

CW: Blood, wounds, all the gross things you find in Orin's temple. Spoilers for Act 3.

(Dividers by cafekitsune)

The pounding in your head is the first thing you notice as consciousness enters your mind. The pounding of your head, and then rapidly the smell of refuse and blood. The stone slab that served as your place of rest was uncomfortable at best, and the lack of support to your hips and neck and knees offers secondary pain. The next sensation was skin rubbed raw against your wrists and ankles, and those superficial wounds were the first things that were tingling as Shadowheart’s sixth level Heal poured into the cracks and aches and throbbing pain. Your eyes still refused to open, your body denying the trauma of your incarceration.

“They're okay!” you hear Karlach shout from somewhere to your right, as a blast of heat rolls over you from the same direction. You’d fixed her arcane engine, so it couldn’t have been your dearest tiefling friend approaching. “They're okay! Fringe’s got em!” Another blast, and this time, as you roll a parched tongue over cracked lips, you can taste the sweet smell of the Weave being summoned into a raging conflagration. This time you hear the noise of something exploding, and your eyes fling open at the threat. Your vision is occupied by the darkness of a high ceiling, but a wisp of silver draws your attention to the left where Shadowheart has her eyes closed in concentration. One hand is on your exposed stomach, the sensation of which slowly enters your mind; the other hand is raised with palm pressed forward in prayer, wrapped in Selûne’s white glow. 

You realize that your breaths have been shallow, but something in your lung expands under the cleric’s care, and your first deep breath enters your lungs. With it is the smell of death and decay, and the familiar stench of the undercity. The rattling of your breath coincides with the final stages of the spell, and Shadowheart opens her eyes to meet yours. There are tears mussing her eyeliner, the black staining against her pale skin and framed by her paler hair. She collapses on top of you with a sob, her arms pulling your head into her shoulder. Aches and bruises that the Heal could not reach cry out as you snake your arms around her as well, clutching her tightly. 

Stomping feet approach from your right, and Shadowheart releases you gently. A month ago she would have shied from such emotion, but there was tenderness in her gaze that hesitantly left your face and looked up. You follow, and Karlach is there with a grin and a hearty slap on Shadowheart’s shoulder. The wince on Shadowheart’s face evokes a chuckle from deep in your belly which only results in more aches. With Karlach’s help, you finally sit up on the stone slab, and then stand. Your feet slough through the remnants of the battle, and the remnants of Orin’s armor and jewelry fail to catch your notice as he sprints up the stairs, Wyll following quickly behind. 

Gale stops at the precipice, out of your arms reach, staring. His mouth is open, and if you were on firmer footing you would have made a joke about him being speechless. You can see the tears in his robe, the scorch marks from where the battle has taken its toll on his person. The smell behind you suggests your evocation wizard had destroyed the very memory of this place with a pair of upcast Fireballs. You can see his mind working, his eyes darting to your face and then to your ripped leathers, your bare feet and your hair matted with blood and bile. There is an intense quiet as the others watch, waiting for the ice to break. 

“I’m okay,” you finally cough, though your lungs rattle with the effort. “I’ll need some help getting back but —” 

He closes the distance before you can finish your sentence. One hand frames your right cheek, the other tangles itself in your hair at the back of your head, and his lips are on yours. Your hands unwrap from holding yourself and clamber desperately to feel him, whining as fingers find his robes and bury themselves. The kiss is bruising against your cracked lips, and you are filthy from your captivity, but Gale shows no sign of minding. His words from the Underdark echo in your mind, and you realize that this isn’t about seeing you in battle but the fact that he thought you were dead and you’re not and you’re alive and you’re kissing him. The hand from your cheek slides down your shoulder and your arm and finds its place on your hip where he digs fingers into your side. It hurts, but it is a pain you find yourself desiring because it means he’s there in front of you and you are well enough to hold him. 

This was a far cry from his normal gentle touches, quiet murmurings, easy loving moments. You realize that you had heard the clatter of his staff against the stones, a sin he would have barked at you for performing only a ten-day ago. He had not broached your lips with his tongue, and you found yourself desperate for even the rotten air of the cavern, given the way he was pressed so firmly against your body. When you finally could bear the lack of breath no longer, you unwrap your fingers from his robes and press palms against his chest. A gentle push and he releases your lips and pulls back, refusing to move his hands from your nape and your hip. His eyes dart between yours with concern and fear. 

“My love,” he whispers. It comes out as a low whine. You feel your mouth pulling up into a soft smile, and your head tilts gently to the side. Your cheek presses against his bloodied wrist and you close your eyes, taking solace in the simple fact that the two of you stand together. Alone, as it turns out, as Shadowheart and Karlach and Wyll are on their way out of the temple to soothe their own wounds. 

You feel Gale’s arm slide along your cheek until his elbow is crooked around the back of your head and you are gathered in the safety of his chest. His neck stretches up until his chin can rest on the top of your head, and you both take several deep breaths until your hearts are settled. 

Pain and aches will fade, your cracked lips will heal, and the blood will wash away. Eventually. For now, though, you are whole. 

[usafphantom2]

At first look at the A-12 and the SR 71, they look the same. It was decided that one fleet of blackbirds had to be decommissioned. The Pentagon decided after a contest between the two airplanes called Nice Girl that the SR 71 would be the only blackbird.

On October 30, 1967, a CIA A-12 soared eighty-four thousand feet over Hanoi in northern Vietnam, traveling faster than a rifle bullet at over three times the speed of sound. A high-resolution camera in the angular black jet’s belly recorded over a mile of film footage of the terrain below—including the over 190 Soviet-built S-75 surface-to-air missile sites.

The aircraft was an A-12 “Oxcart,” a smaller, faster single-seat precursor variant of the Air Force’s legendary SR-71 Blackbird Recon plane.

Pilot Dennis Sullivan had earlier flown one hundred combat missions in an F-80 Starfighter over Korea for the U.S. Air Force. But Sullivan was technically no longer a military pilot—he had been “sheep-dipped,” temporarily decommissioned to fly the hi-tech jet on behalf of the CIA. He now sat in the cramped cockpit in a refrigerated space suit, as the friction generated by his plane’s Mach 3 speeds heated the cockpit to over five hundred degrees Fahrenheit. The jet’s driver, Dennis Sullivan had earlier flown one hundred combat missions in an F-80 Starfighter over Korea for the U.S. Air Force. But Sullivan was technically no longer a military pilot—he had been “sheep-dipped,” temporarily decommissioned to fly the hi-tech jet on behalf of the CIA. He now sat in the cramped cockpit in a refrigerated space suit, as the friction generated by his plane’s Mach 3 speeds heated the cockpit to over five hundred degrees Fahrenheit.

The A-12 officially had a maximum speed of Mach 3.2—but the missiles that were following Sullivan could attain Mach 3.5.

“I said, ‘Holy smokes—those things fly pretty good up there for something which doesn’t have much in the way of wings.’ So I watched them come.… They’d get up right behind me, very close, and all of a sudden there’d be a big red fireball—a big white cloud of smoke—and you’d immediately pull away from it. You were going thirty miles a minute. [Note: actually, 41 miles per minute!] Every one of those SAMs guided perfectly and did the same darn thing.”

The missile’s 440-pound proximity-fused warhead was designed to swat planes out of the sky within 65 meters of the point of detonation. However, in the thinner air of the upper atmosphere, its fragments could travel up to four times as far.

Sullivan escaped and landed his A-12 at Kadena Air Base, where it spent several minutes cooling on the tarmac before mechanics could even touch its friction-heated skin. The stress of the heat and high speeds exacted a steep physical toll on the jet’s pilots, who lost an average of five pounds of body weight on the completion of their three to four- hour missions.

He was sitting for debriefing when mechanics burst in the room to show him two metal fragments from a missile’s nose cone they had found buried under his low left wing—just shy of his jet’s fuel tank.

Later when Sullivan’s camera footage was found to have captured the ghostly white contrails of six surface-to-air missiles surging toward him from the ground. The A-12s were to remain in storage where they remained until the early 1990s when they came out of storage to go into museums.

@Habubrats71 via X

[deanwritings]

Never Let You Go

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Request:

Word Count: 2,609

Gif:

A/N: Just some fluff for your Friday! Big thanks to @deanwinchesterwifesstufff for the adorable request 🥰💍

Dean’s knee taps wildly under the steering wheel as the Impala waits at a red light. If he was someone who chewed his fingernails, he would absolutely be tearing them apart right now as he focuses very hard on trying to keep his breathing steady. 

This was not an emotion Dean was used to. Sure, he usually got nervous before a hunt, but it was the type of nervous he was familiar with, one that helped keep him sharp before taking on the big bad of the week.

But this, this was full on panic. Dean hadn’t felt this type of anxiety since he was cursed with that ghost sickness from years ago. And that almost killed him. But the way his heart is pounding against his ribs, this might too. 

“Uh, Dean?” Your voice rings out and he whips his head to you. “Light’s green.” You point out the window. Dean follows your direction and sees the light has indeed changed, and he completely missed it. 

Without a word he lets his foot fall heavily to the gas, sending you both back into the seats at the sudden momentum. 

“Jesus, Dean you okay?” You brace one hand on the dashboard in front of you with a frown. Dean never hit the gas like that unless you were being chased. Not to mention the man looked paler than a ghost. Something was clearly wrong.

“Fine.” Is all he offers you without letting his eyes leave the road. You continue to stare him down, hoping your targeted gaze would force him to look at you, but he continues to either not see you or ignore you. 

With a deep breath you settle back into your seat as the car returns to a normal speed and turn out the window, a small smile gracing your lips at the passing scenery. You were happy to be back, even if it was for another hunt.  

You were in Colorado, a small town in the northwest corner that you had visited years ago. You had been hunting a Cacus, and after dodging fireballs and decapitating the thing, Dean Winchester decided to finally share his feelings for you. Those three little words you never thought you’d hear coming from the hunter, directed at you. 

Since then, you’ve been nearly inseparable. You moved your things into his room, you had movie nights in the Dean Cave, date nights at the local watering hole where you finally beat him at both darts and pool, and you two just seemed glued to each other’s side, completely unintentional, but like two souls tethered together that could never wander far from the other. 

And when things were good, life was great. It wasn't always perfect, nothing ever was, but no matter how bad things got, you two always came back to each other. And that’s what mattered. Every single time, no matter the argument, or how bad a hunt was, Dean Winchester chose you, and you chose him. 

It was more than most hunters ever got. Sure, some did the whole marriage and family thing, but those were outlying cases. Most ended up in a shallow grave or on top of a pyre. You were just happy to have Dean by your side, and you would take whatever you could with your time with him. 

You had no expectations of marriage or settling down. That wasn’t Dean’s thing, and to be honest, it wasn’t really yours. Once upon a time, a younger version of you would have dreamed of a chance of marrying Dean Winchester, but years of hunting taught you to take what you have and enjoy it, because you never knew if it was going to be stolen away. 

You shake your memories away as you pull up to a motel — no, a cabin — the facade covered in large birch logs and black shutters, and the roof slated sharply at both ends, meeting pointedly at the top. 

You turn to ask Dean what you’re doing here but he’s already out of the car, his door closing softly before he makes his way to the trunk and begins unloading. With another look through the windshield at your unexpected stay, you step out, taking a moment to take in the greenery-filled property, pine trees hiding you away from the rest of the world. 

As you look around, Dean steps up besides you, both of your bags in hand. 

“This isn’t a motel.” You cross your arms at him. His lips part but then he shuts them and shrugs. You didn’t like being surprised. Dean knew that. And he conveniently forgot to tell you that instead of some run-of-the-mill motel, you would be staying in this charming cabin in the middle of the White River National Forest. 

“Ask Sammy. Said somethin’ about the local place having reviews ‘bout bed bugs so he booked this for us instead.” Is all he offers you before he steps onto the porch and places a bag down to enter a code into the keypad lock.

Sam had found a case a few days ago, a suspected demon, based on the local crops and livestock dying. Though he had found the case, he decided to hang back at the bunker, stating his sudden, onset cold would make him more of a liability than a help. 

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but the weight in your stomach was saying something was off. Between Dean’s odd behavior, this cabin, and now you realizing Sam backed out of this hunt, something was definitely going on. You just had no idea what it was. 

After taking in the cabin and unpacking your bag, you head back out into the living room, leaving Dean to finish his very slow unpacking. He had to wait until you were gone. He couldn’t risk you noticing something unusual in his duffle. Then the whole trip would have been for nothing. Not to mention all of Sam’s hard work at faking documents and newspaper clippings. 

It was a hard thing surprising a hunter. Hunters had to always be observing, aware of anything that was amiss, otherwise it could get them killed. So sneaking around and lying was a hard thing to pull off, but so far, Dean had managed. He was in the home stretch now, just a few more hours. 

He peeks through the open door, seeing you in the kitchen, your back to him as you start a pot of complimentary coffee. 

Dean returns to his bag and pulls out the small box, his thumb rubbing over the velvet. He doesn’t open it. He doesn’t need to. He knows exactly what’s inside, and he smiles, his racing heart calming just a bit.

He shouldn’t be nervous. He was never more sure of anything he’s ever done in his life. But when happiness has been stolen away from Dean so many times before, he has to wonder if he’s the common denominator. If by asking you this, he was asking you to sign your life away. 

But you had told him so many times over the years that none of that was true, assured him through his self doubt that he wasn’t to blame, even when he was pretty sure you were lying to make him feel better. 

So he wanted you to have more. You were his everything, and he wanted you to know it. He wasn’t the best with words. “I love you,” didn’t fall from his lips as often as it did from you. And it wasn’t because he didn’t love you, hell, he never knew he could love one person so much, it just wasn’t something he was used to. So he made sure, every damn day, to show you how much he loved you, whether it was cooking your favorite dinner, to holding you tight at night, to making sure you were safe after every hunt. 

And there was no greater way to show just how much he loved you than this. 

Anyone who had known him would have laughed, thinking it was a joke, that the perpetually single, can’t commit to anyone, Dean Winchester was going to propose. But you took away his fears and replaced them with love and comfort. Instead of running for the door, Dean ran head first to you. And he wasn’t going to let you go. 

After you both got settled in, Dean managed to pull you away from the fake research to go with him into town to get groceries and supplies for your stay. He made sure to pick ingredients for your favorite dish and while you were buying wood for the fireplace, he snuck away to the liquor store to buy the best bottle of whiskey they had, neither of you enjoying champagne, even if this moment would call for it. 

Once you got back, Dean nodded and hummed as you shared your plan for the next day over dinner; interviewing witnesses, checking out the fake dead crops and animals, and Dean had to bite back his smile knowing he had successfully tricked you. He was worried you may have started catching on, but you seemed to be status quo. 

Once dinner was done and cleaned up, Dean built a fire in the stone hearth and convinced you to relax with him and put hunting away for the night. 

“There’s plenty of time for that tomorrow.” He falsely reminded you. Tonight, he wanted you to relax and enjoy not being in a motel that was older than the both of you. 

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?” Dean breaks the silence as the two of you cuddled on the couch, watching the flames with Dean’s arm draped around your shoulders, your hand holding his. You shake your head against his chest.

Dean licks his lips and takes a deep breath. This was it.

“Not gonna lie, I was pissed when you first showed up.” You both laugh. That was probably an understatement. “I thought what the hell is this lady doing here and she’s just going to screw everything up and get in the way. Which you did.” He looks down at you pointedly. 

“And then I saved your ass.” You remind him with a cheeky grin. Dean just scoffs, but he knows it’s true.

“Anyway, after it was over, I looked at you and I remember thinking ‘god damn now that’s a woman.’” You laugh again, your fingers tightening around his. 

“I never thought I’d see you again. Figured it was one and done. Besides, I could already tell then you were too good for me.” This time you take in the deep breath, familiar with Dean’s self deprecation. To you, that’s always been his biggest enemy, one you regularly fought so he would finally see the amazing man you saw every single day.  

“But then we ran into you in Alabama, then New Mexico, Indiana, North Carolina. It’s like I couldn’t escape you.” Dean takes a breath. Again, he wasn’t one for words or feelings. But he’s faced Heaven, Hell, and everything in between. He could do this. 

“Every time I saw you, it got harder and harder to say goodbye. And these last few years, well, I couldn’t imagine my life without you by my side, sweetheart.” He smiles down at you, and you return the gesture. 

Dean lets go of your hand and unwraps himself from around you, turning in his seat to face you before taking your hand, your left hand, back in his. 

“We don’t get a lot of good things in this life, but you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’d do everything again, if it means you ending up right here besides me.” In the light of the fire, Dean can see the glossiness in your eyes. You weren’t a crier, so he must be doing a good job. 

“I know I don’t say it much, and I’m not the best at words, but I love you, more than anythin’ in this life. And I’ll take on heaven, hell, and whoever else to make sure you’re safe. Because you mean everything to me.” Dean swallows as his eyes begin to mirror yours. He reaches behind him, sitting up slightly as he reaches into this back pocket, but instead of returning to the couch, his left knee rests against the floor and he pulls the box in front of him. Your eyes go wide and mouth falls open at the movement. 

“So,” he pops the lid open, revealing the gold band and solitaire diamond, the same one his mother wore. “Y/F/N Y/L/N, any chance you wanna marry me?” 

Without a word or a shake of your head, you fling yourself into Dean, toppling him over as you wrap your arms around his neck as you both hit the ground. 

“Christ,” Dean wheezes from your sudden attack. “Is that a yes?” 

“That’s a hell yes.” You beam before you crash your lips to his. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you tight against him, not wanting to let go. But after a moment he pulls away, there’s still something he needs to do.

He sits the two of you up, your legs stretching out behind him as you settle onto his lap. He grabs your hand away from his neck, his fingers rubbing along your knuckles before he gently pulls the ring from the box and slides it up your finger.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, bringing your hand to your face. You never imagined a ring would ever be sitting there. Let alone his mother’s ring, and you feel warm tears run down your cheeks. 

“Like it?” You look over to Dean. Though he’s smiling, you know him well enough to see the nervousness in his eyes.

“It’s absolutely perfect.” You assure him quietly, your voice getting caught in your throat. Because not only did Dean Winchester, the world’s most famous bachelor hunter, want to marry you, he was doing it with his mother’s ring, which spoke more words than Dean ever could. 

You cup his cheeks, the cool gold an unfamiliar sensation against his skin, as you lean in and leave a soft kiss against his lips. 

“Wait,” you pull back suddenly, still holding his face, and Dean frowns. “What about the hunt?” 

Dean laughs and shakes his head and your eyes narrow.

“There is no hunt, is there?” There’s a slight edge to your voice, and you realize all those weird things you noticed earlier finally made sense. 

“You tricked me!” You drop your hands and point at him accusingly. He just takes your hand in his and gives it a squeeze. 

“For a good reason.” He rubs the ring on your finger, giving it a little wiggle.

You huff, hoping your frown holds up, but you can feel the corners of your lips starting to give away.

“I suppose I can forgive you.” You make a show of shrugging your shoulders, acting like you’re doing him a favor. Dean just rolls his eyes and tsks.

“Well I hope so, cause I got another surprise for you.” You raise your eyebrows at him, and you catch the mischief in his green eyes. 

Without a word, he wraps his arms around you and stands the both of you up. Your legs tighten around his waist and his hands grasp beneath you, giving an extra squeeze as he walks you both to the bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot as the empty velvet box sits discarded in front of the fire.

Forever Tags

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @deansgoddess @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373

[orions-starnest]

Spoilers for Clash to be Champion 10

GOOBYE CORKUS WORKUS

HELLO YAOI

[starcoreboy]

Can you draw mirror x yearbook or firepound? :) (both from clash 2 be champion sorry for suggesting stuff you haven’t watched i just don’t see art of them)

i have no idea who any of those characters are but i think i saw fireball and pound in a tiktok video one time so i settled on them

i did a smaller thing for them bc I haven't watched the show (fireball being more messy doesn't relate to it being smaller, I just draw all fires with messy coloring)

(i added the gay tag i THINK their both males i can't remember)

[builtbybrokenbells]

Spitfire

Jake finds himself enamoured with an enigmatic woman at the bar, wanting to do whatever he can to get to know her. Unfortunately, circumstance seems to stand in the way of fate, leaving him wondering if he’ll ever get the chance to love her, or if she’ll remain solely a memory.

Read part two here

Listen while reading: witchy woman - eagles

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: drinking, swearing, bars, smoking, frat boys, creepy/mean ex-boyfriends, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex, touch of physical violence, sorry if i miss any!!

aha! jake mini-series!! not sure how long this will turn out to be, so stay tuned i guess! also, if you can, i suggest listening to witchy woman by eagles while reading :) as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

~

Music was pounding through the sound system, bouncing off every body that was present on the dance floor. It wasn’t particularly good, but you were certain that you could get drunk enough to enjoy it. You’d only been inside the bar for a moment, but somehow your friends had already disappeared into the crowd, leaving no indication on where they could’ve went. You paid no mind to it, knowing they would show up sooner rather than later. You pushed your way through the crowd to get to the bar, earning some strange looks. When you landed in front of the wooden countertop, you were a bit out of breath and eager to start drinking. The familiar bartender looked to you, giving you a smile.

“Hey, Mike.” You greeted.

“Was wondering when I’d see your face back here.” He pulled a glass from under the counter.

“Roommates finally let me out of house arrest. Did enough chores to make up for the last time we were here.” You joked. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at you.

“You’re gonna get yourself hurt fighting like that.” He scolded. The last time you’d been at the bar, you’d gotten in a physical altercation with a frat boy who’d been bothering a girl. You’d never been scared to throw a punch or speak up. Growing up with four brothers really taught you a thing or two about how to fight. Your quick temper seemed to get you into trouble, but thankfully this particular bar staff knew you only got physical if deserved. They didn’t care, because they didn’t want people like that in their bar any more than you did.

“No faith in me, Mikey?” You asked. He slid a drink towards you. You picked it up, taking a sip. “Jack and coke?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Had to go with your second favourite, apparently that fireball gets you feisty.” He grinned.

“I don’t think it was the fireball, baby.” You confided. “I was actually applying for the bouncer position, anyway. You guys don’t seem to want to hire me; figured I just needed to show off my skills.”

“If you were the bouncer, I don’t think anybody would get through the front doors.” He chuckled. “Plus, if we had to pay you to be here, we’d lose out on all our profit.” You laughed as you pulled a twenty out of your purse. As you handed it over to him, he waved you off. “First ones on us, we missed you.” You shoved it back in your purse, pulling out a ten instead.

“Fine, here’s a tip, I missed you too.” You left it on the counter, grabbing your glass. “Oh, and put some better music on. I don’t want my favourite dive bar turning into a club.” He let out another laugh, throwing his head back as he did so.

“Will do, spitfire.” He moved on to the next customer as you turned around, losing yourself in the crowd. The boy on the stool next to you stared at the spot you’d been standing moments before, turning his head to watch you weave into the mess of bodies. He turned back to the bartender, who was making his way over to him. “Refill?” He asked the boy, nodding towards his empty glass.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. Mike pulled down a bottle of whiskey from the display, filling a glass with ice and pouring the liquor atop it. “What’s that girls name?” He asked. Mike looked up at him, furrowing his eyebrows slightly.

“The one who was just there?” He nodded his head towards the empty spot beside the boy. He gave a nod. “Y/n,” he answered “but if you think you’re interested, tread carefully, man. She’s something else.” The bartender smirked.

“You seem to know her pretty well. Could you put in a good word for me?”

“What’s your name, kid?” Mike questioned, placing his drink in front of him and taking his used glass away.

“Jake,” he introduced himself, reaching a hand across the bar. “And you’re Mike?”

“Yeah, that’s me. I own the place.” He smiled. “I’ll try my best to send her your way, but no promises. I’ve known her for a long time. She’s a force to be reckoned with. She does whatever she wants, whenever she wants to. I’ve never been able to reason with her.”

“‘Preciate it, man. I think I can handle her.” Jake smiled. Mike let out a laugh, knowing the boy was maybe a bit too confident in himself.

“Whatever you say.”

Back on the dance floor, you’d found yourself surrounded by a group of people you’d never met before, but seemed like they knew how to have fun. You’d finished dancing with one of the girls, blowing her a kiss as you continued on your journey through the sea of drunkards. A familiar head of red hair caught your attention. You pushed past a pair of frat boys, giving a scowl as you did so. They were your least favourite type of people, and the university you’d been attending was full of them. You caught up to your friend, grabbing onto her arm before she could slip away again.

“Hi!” Eve exclaimed, smile lighting up the room. “I didn’t know where you went!”

“Had to go say hello to Mike!” You shouted back. “Where is everyone else?”

“I think Ally’s doing blow in the bathroom.” She giggled. You rolled your eyes.

“Of course she is.” You were a party animal, but even you had to admit that Ally, one of your roommates, definitely had a problem that she wasn’t willing to deal with yet.

“Ben’s probably guarding the bathroom door for her,” you nodded. Ben was Ally’s boyfriend, always making sure she was safe. You liked him; he wasn’t necessarily overbearing with her. He never stopped her from doing what she wanted, but just made sure she was protected while she was doing it. “And I think the rest of them are over playing pool.”

“And you and I are gonna dance.” You smiled, grabbing her hand and twirling her around. She let out a laugh, reciprocating the action. The two of you moved your hips in time with the music, dancing on each other and sipping at your drinks. From behind you, a wolf-whistle sounded. You straightened up, spinning around to see a guy you’d seen around campus a few times. You gave him a glare, flipping him off in the process. He rolled his eyes at you, turning to look the other way. “Asshole.” You muttered, bringing your glass to your lips and finishing the rest of the drink in one gulp. “Come on, let’s go get another.” You ushered her along. The two of you stepped down the stairs leading back to the main floor, catching sight of your third roommate. “Ally!” You shouted, waving her over. Her head whipped around, following the sound of your voice immediately. She gave you a grin as she joined you, hooking her arm through yours. “Hello, sunshine.” You greeted.

“Fancy meeting you here.” She jittered. You had to laugh.

“Let me buy you a drink, sugar.” You gave her a small yank towards the bar. You pooled into some stools, all scooting your chairs closer together. Mike made his way over to you, a towel over his shoulder. He placed his hands on the edge of the counter, leaning forward and giving a disapproving sigh.

“You troublemakers are back again?” You gave him a sweet smile. He was an attractive guy; a bit older, but very good looking for his age. He had his head shaved and tattoos littered his arms. You always played the flirting game with him, knowing you’d let him take you home under the right circumstances. Still, you enjoyed drinking there far too much to ruin it over a quick fuck.

“Couldn’t stay away from you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What are you having this time?”

“I’m thinking shots. What about you, ladies?” You asked. They gave a collective nod. “Six jägerbombs.” He obliged, grabbing a can of red bull and the dreaded green bottle. He poured out six, placing two in front of all of you.

“Oh, there’s a guy over there that seems particularly interested in you, too.” Mike said, nodding in the direction of a booth behind you. You raised an eyebrow, giving a smirk.

“Trying to pawn me off on some poor patron?” You asked. He shook his head.

“I’m just relaying the message, sweetheart.” You turned around, seeing a group of boys sitting together. Your eyes scanned them, taking in each one of them individually. One had long curly, dark hair and a sweet smile. He looked different than the other three, who all seemed a bit similar. There was a lankier, taller boy who sat next to the curly haired one. He had a bit of facial hair growing in and long, brown hair that barely had a wave to it. On the other side of the booth, there were two boys who looked quite similar. One had short fluffy hair, shaved down on the sides and a grin that never left his face. The boy beside him had long hair, too, but his aura looked a little darker. His smile wasn’t as wide when it crossed his face, and he looked a little stoned.

They must be twins, you thought.

They were all good looking; you wouldn’t mind taking any one of them home, but that wasn’t your intentions lately. Boys, and girls, for that matter, were not your peak interest. Too much drama, too much effort. You liked drinking and having fun. Freedom was great and you used all of your time not spent with your friends, studying. You didn’t need someone to drag you down. Still, out of curiosity, you had to ask. “Is it sunshine and rainbows, or dark and broody?” You turned around, a laugh on your lips.

“Dark and broody,” Mike chuckled. “How’d you know?”

“Come on, you know me well enough by now. I know everything.” You took the first shot, feeling the warmth flood your chest for a second. It was quickly washed away by the carbonated drink. “He is cute, though. But I’m not interested in wasting my time.” You sighed.

“Y/n, he’s gorgeous. You have to go talk to him, at least.” Ally pleaded.

“Take your shots and maybe I’ll think about it.” You brushed her off.

“He seemed to really like you, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Seemed like a nice guy.” Mike offered, throwing another drink in front of you before he stalked off to serve another group of people. You thought about it for a moment, taking another look over your shoulder at the guy. You found he was already looking at you. He gave a small smile, to which you returned.

“You know, maybe it would be good for you. You haven’t even so much as looked at anyone since the last asshole.” Eve said. You shrugged.

“For good reason.” You kept it short and sweet, not wanting to get into it now.

“Just give him a chance, y/n. You never know.” She took both of her shots back to back without a flinch in sight.

“Oh, I know,” you rolled your eyes. “All guys are the same. They just want to fuck and ruin your life, then act like it never happened.” You stood again, grabbing your drink. The two girls shuffled to their feet, following after you. You made your way to the pool tables, taking a seat on the side of one the rest of your group was playing on. Ally’s boyfriend shooed you off without any hesitation, completely used to your antics. You jumped off, now watching the game they were playing. Ben and his roommate were playing together, and they were down to the 8-ball. The tension seemed a bit high; they always contested each other in pool. It was their version of a pissing contest. You had learned not to comment on it.

The mood shifted in the air suddenly. Mike had adhered to your request, changing up the music. Overhead, the opening notes of Witchy Woman by Eagles sounded, sending a jolt of energy through you. “Thanks, Mike!” You yelled over to the bar. He looked up, giving you a wink.

From the booth the group of boys sat at, Jake looked over at you, pleasantly surprised that you’d requested the music change. You were singing the song to Eve, and she was dancing to your voice. Jake admired the way your hips moved, the life behind your eyes, and the heart you were putting into the performance. “Go talk to her, man.” Josh elbowed his brother in the side. Jake snapped out of his trance, looking over to his twin.

“Oh, no,” he shook his head. “I don’t want to bother her. She looks like she’s having fun.” In reality, he was nervous. He’d never met a girl who affected him quite like you did. Your whole aura drew him in, like you’d casted a spell on him. The way you were so openly you and not afraid to show it was enchanting, and new. Not many people were like that. He thought your song choice had been fantastic, because if he had to pick a song to describe you, it would have been that one.

“Just ask to buy her a drink; she looks friendly enough.” Sam said, now looking back over his shoulder to get a glance at you. Jake took a deep breath, nodding his head once.

“Yeah, okay.” He stood, throwing back the last of his whiskey and advancing towards you. You caught sight of him as he was approaching, finding your breath catch in your throat. He was really good looking, and even better up close. He gave you another smile when you caught his eye. You stopped dancing, trying to channel a bit of your confidence that you’d lost momentarily. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I could almost believe they wrote this song about you.” He spoke once he got close enough to you. You gave him a smirk.

“Flattering,” you looked him up and down. He was wearing dark jeans; you couldn’t tell exactly what colour they were due to the dim light, but they looked black. He had a dark blue button up on, only the bottom few buttons fastened together. The sleeves were cuffed at his elbows. His chest was tan, the skin looked soft and was inviting you in. His neck adorned a few chains, one with a pendant hanging from it. You couldn’t get a good look at it. He had dark features: brown hair, brown eyes and dark eyebrows. He was beautiful, and definitely had a good music taste for knowing the song, but you weren’t willing to fall for it. You were certain there had to be a catch. “What brings you to my side of the bar?”

“You,” he was blunt. You hated to admit it, but you liked it. His eyes scanned your face, taking in your red lipstick in particular. He wasn’t disrespectful with his gaze, though. It never fell below your shoulders. “I couldn’t let you leave without at least introducing myself.” You gave a chuckle.

“Trust me baby, I’m not leaving any time soon. They shut the bar down when I’m ready to go.” His heart sped at the pet name. “Now, tell me what you really wanted.”

“I wanted to buy you a drink.” His confidence was non-existent, but he attempted to sound sure of himself, anyway. “A woman with a music taste like yours is certainly deserving of a beverage of her choice.” You softened your stare, easing up on him a bit.

“I guess that depends on what drink you had in mind.”

“You don’t strike me as a bottom shelf kind of lady.” He let out a small laugh.

“You got me there.” You smiled. “I think-“

“She’d love to have a drink with you!” Ally cut in, earning a glare from you.

“Come on, Ally, you didn’t even let me intimidate him first.” You rolled your eyes, making a quick joke.

“He looked pretty scared to me.” She giggled. You looked back at the boy, shrugging.

“I guess he does.” Jake let out a nervous chuckle. “Come on, pretty boy, let’s go get a drink.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him along behind you. When you reached the counter, he pulled a bar chair out for you, letting you sit down first. He took a seat beside you, turning to look at you.

“So, witchy woman,” he smirked “what’s your name?”

“Hm, I think I like that name better.” You grinned.

“Come on, I’m sure that pretty face has an even prettier name.”

“Y/n,” you said, crossing your legs. “What about you, mystery man?”

“Jake.” He told you. You looked at him for a moment, slowly nodding your head.

“That fits. You look like a Jacob.” He laughed.

“I do?”

“Yeah, I mean, not in a bad way or anything, you just look like a Jake.” You stated, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Noted.” he replied. Mike stopped in front of the two of you. “I’ll get the same as earlier,” he looked to you “and one of whatever this beautiful lady has been getting all night.”

“Lady is a strong word for this one.” Mike chuckled.

“How rude, Mike. I may just have to leave a bad review.” You snipped. He waved you off.

“You love me too much for that.”

“You’re right, I do. I can’t get this cheap of a drunk anywhere else. Glad to see you referred to my Spotify playlist for tonight.” You mentioned, hearing a Cream song begin to play.

“It was too good not to play.” You watched as he poured the drinks. “I should pay you instead of the shitty DJ’s they bring in.”

“Hey, twenty bucks is twenty bucks.” You sent another wink in his direction.

“You think I pay them that much?” The three of you let out a chorus of laughs. He handed you both your respective drinks.

“Add them to my tab, please.” Jake told him. Mike gave a nod. “And all of her drinks for the rest of the night.” He added. You gave him an incredulous look.

“Absolutely not,” you scoffed “that’s very kind of you, but I won’t do that to you.”

“I don’t mind, really.” He assured you. Mike gave him a look of warning.

“She’ll drink you broke, buddy.” He told the boy.

“It’d be worth it, then.” Mike gave a shrug, walking away and doing as he was told without another protest.

“Jake, you really don’t have to-“

“I want to.” He cut you off, a tone of finality in his voice. You closed your mouth, pleasantly surprised at the authority. Usually, it would irk you, but from him, it was more than alright. You sipped your drink before the conversation continued. “So, what do you do for a living?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m in school right now, actually.” Now that you were looking at him, you were realizing he might have been a bit older than you. You’d never seen him around the town, or the campus. He was a mystery waiting to be discovered.

“What are you taking?” He asked, eyes never leaving you.

“What do you think I’m taking?” You figured it would be fun to play with him a bit. He studied you for a moment, trying to pry into your brain.

“Something science-y.” He deducted. You were impressed.

“Yeah, actually.” You smiled.

“Biology?” You nodded.

“Well, sort of.” You gave a small laugh. “Chemical engineering. Moving on to biomedical engineering for my masters.” His eyes widened at your statement.

“So you’re a genius, too?” He asked.

“If you want to say that, sure.” You played into it. “What about you, Jacob?”

“I’m a musician.” You narrowed your stare at him.

“Any good?”

“I’d like to think so,” he responded, eyes crinkling with the upturn of his lips. “I guess I’ll have to show you sometime so you can judge for yourself.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You trailed off. “So that’s why you have such a good taste in music, then?” He gave a small shrug.

“I grew up on the type of music you like.” Was all he replied.

“So you play rock music?”

“Modern rock, yeah.”

“That’s actually really cool.” You admitted. “You play guitar, don’t you?” He nodded.

“How’d you know?”

“Woman’s intuition, if you may.” You scooted your chair closer to him. He welcomed it, doing the same. “So you’re just passing through town, then?”

“Yeah, we had a show here last night. We’re gonna be here for a couple days, though.” He was much more intriguing than you’d originally pegged him for.

“Where’s home for you, then?” You pried, genuinely wanting to know him now.

“Michigan.” He answered, setting his glass back on the countertop. “You?”

“Washington.” You replied.

“You’re a long way from home, then.” He noted.

“Well, I couldn’t really turn down a scholarship from John Hopkins.” You practically scoffed. “My parents would have killed me if I did.” You laughed.

“Yeah, fair enough.” He conceded. “How far along are you?” He asked.

“I’m in my third year of my undergrad. I’m finishing up my bachelor’s early, then I’m starting my masters in the fall.” Jake was blown away at your words.

“You amaze me.” His expression showed nothing short of admiration.

“I guess I can add ‘impressing celebrities’ to my resume.” You smirked, leaning forward slightly. Perhaps it was the alcohol lowering your common sense, but he looked very good, and you’d likely never see him again. It was a win-win for you. “I think I’d like to make your time in Maryland memorable, Jake the rockstar.”

“You already have, Y/n the engineer.” He was leaning in now, too.

“Oh, so you don’t want to kiss me?” You teased. Your noses were practically touching, the smell of whiskey on his breath was driving you crazy.

“No, I would love to kiss you.” He assured you.

“What are you waiting for, Jacob?” Before you could say anything else, his mouth was on yours, desperate to know what you tasted like. It was heated, both of you tipsy and fuelled by attraction, but it wasn’t sloppy. When you pulled away, you giggled at the lipstick that stained his lips. “Reds your colour, I think.” You wiped away the smudge with your thumb. He couldn’t hold back his smile, placing a kiss to the pad of your finger.

“You think so?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. But, in your true nature, you stood, cutting the moment short. “Come find me before you leave, rockstar.” You placed another kiss on his lips, walking away without another word. He followed you with his eyes, dumbfounded at the sight of you walking away. He watched you until you disappeared back into the sea of people, not sure if he should follow or not.

You ventured back to the pool table, joining your friends once more. They didn’t notice you right away, but when the girls caught sight of you, they had a shock at your smudged lipstick. Instead of explaining, you grabbed a pool cue and started up another game after convincing one of the boys to go buy a round of shots.

Jake joined his brothers in the booth, wordless and still trying to comprehend the interaction you’d shared with him moments before. “How did that go?” Josh snickered.

“I… I don’t know.” He said. “I mean, she kissed me, then she just… left.” His twin reached out and gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

“Maybe you’re a bad kisser,” Sam chirped, earning a pointed look from his eldest brother.

“Did she say anything else?” Josh questioned.

“She told me to find her before I leave.”

“Well that’s not a bad thing, then!” He exclaimed, trying to cheer him up.

“I don’t know, man. I’ve never met anyone like her before. I’m scared I might’ve blown my shot.” He sighed, swirling the ice around in his cup.

“You’ll just have to find her, later.” Sam shrugged. “Then you’ll know for sure.”

Back at the pool table, you were on your last solid ball, eyes already on the 8-ball and planning your victory. You lined up your shot, guiding the cue through your fingers and knocking it into the cue ball. It bounced into the orange one, hitting it against the corner and rolling it back into a corner pocket. You gave a smirk of triumph at Ben’s roommate, who still had three balls left to sink. He said nothing, barely willing to make eye contact with you before you took aim again. You shot at the black ball, eyes following it carefully as it landed in the hole without issue. You placed your cue on the table and gave your opponent a sweet smile.

“I’ll take another Jack and Coke. Make it a double, honey.” You told him. Instead of arguing, he placed his own stick down and nodded, walking to the bar without another word. While waiting for him to return, you checked your makeup in your phone camera. You pulled out a tube of lipstick, reapplying it in the places it had worn off. When your refill was brought back to you, you thanked the boy and turned to your own roommates. “I’m going outside, anyone joining?” You asked. The girls nodded, grabbing their drinks. They scuttled behind you as you made your move toward the door. The bouncer caught sight of the drink in your hand and moved in front of the exit before you could get outside.

“You can’t bring that out there, y/n.” He told you.

“Oh, come on. You know I’m coming right back in.” You bargained with him. He didn’t budge. You put on a little bit of an act, letting an innocent look fall over your features. “You know, a lady is never supposed to leave her drink unattended. You never know what could happen.” He faltered, shaking his head, knowing he wasn’t going to win the argument.

“Fine, but make it quick. Don’t let Mike see you, either.” He warned.

“You know he couldn’t stay mad at me.” You reminded.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he chuckled. You blew him a kiss as you passed by, Ally and Eve following close behind.

The night was cool, but it felt nice after being inside the warm bar. The exposed skin on your legs filled with goosebumps at the sudden breeze, but you paid no mind to it. You handed one of the girls your drink, pulling a cigarette pack out of your purse. You took one between your lips, offering it around to the others. They each took one, mimicking your actions. You took your lighter and lit all of them, slipping it back into your bra. You took your drink back, letting out a long exhale of smoke. “You guys having fun?” You asked.

“I’d be having more fun if you could set me up with one of mystery boy’s brothers.” Eve said. You gave a low chuckle.

“You can have mystery boy, too.” You flicked off the ash that was accumulating on the end of your cigarette.

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Ally asked, eyes wide.

“Nothing,” you shrugged “he was a good kisser, probably a good lay, too. Just not looking for anything like that.” You were lying. You were very into him, even before he’d kissed you. If it were with him, you’d be willing to try another relationship. You barely knew the guy, but he had an effect on you you’d never felt before. You knew if he walked out of the bar and joined you, he’d have you wrapped around his finger, and you didn’t like that feeling.

“Babe, he may be a fantastic guy. He seems really into you. I think you should give him a chance.” Eve pushed.

“I told you, not interested.” You replied, leaving it at that. “He’s a musician, anyway. Best case scenario, I fall for him and I get to see him twice a year. Doesn’t sound fantastic to me.”

“No, y/n, the best case scenario is you get to know each other and he treats you really well. Maybe he’d even take you across the world with him.” Ally interjected. You scoffed.

“As if I have time to travel across the world with a horny rockstar.”

“Don’t let you-know-who ruin this for you.” Eve warned.

“I don’t want to talk about him; how I feel has nothing to do with him.” You snapped. She knew your ex-boyfriend was an off-limit topic. She conceded, still knowing that you weren’t being 100% truthful. He’d really fucked you up, and was still trying his best to make you miserable months after your dramatic end by following you around, blowing up your phone non-stop, and ruining any new, blossoming relationships before they could amount to anything. You wanted nothing more to do with him after your caught him hooking up with a sorority girl at a house party, and that was one of the lesser injustices he’d committed against you in the time of your relationship. You were surprised he hadn’t shown up at the bar, yet, just to disturb your night. The cigarettes were slowly dwindling to an end and the tension had yet to subside. “I’m going to have another one, I’ll meet you guys in there.” They nodded, departing back into the building. They were well aware you just needed a minute alone; you’d be fine by the time you went back inside.

You lit another cigarette, leaning back against the building with no real thoughts. You watched the passerby’s, wondering quietly about what was going on in their heads. People were fascinating. It was always strange to think that every person that passed by had their own stories, thoughts and dreams. At face value, they were just bodies. You couldn’t begin to fathom the amount of memories and tales each person that walked by held in their minds.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice broke you out of your own mind. You looked up to see the same blue button-up and black jeans from earlier.

“Following me, rockstar?” You smiled. He shook his head, holding up his own pack of cigarettes.

“Just luck.” He leaned against the wall next to you, not close enough to make you uncomfortable, but enough to make your heart flutter.

“Guess so,” your usually witty comments seemed to be lost. The liquor coursing through your veins seemed to be making the decisions rather than your conscious mind, now. All you knew was that he was gorgeous, and you’d never have to see him again after the night was through. You hated that you were so back-and-fourth with your own mind, but you couldn’t help it. Those were your only justifications for what you said next. “Do you plan on taking me home tonight, Jacob?” You turned your head slightly, peeking at him through the corner of your eye.

“If you’ll let me.” He looked at you, now.

“I think that would be alright.” You said, turning your body towards him. He mimicked you, eyes finally fully landing on your face. He let out a shaky breath, stunned by your beauty. He thought he’d never get to experience it that close to him again. Without another word, you threw your cigarette to the ground and pulled him in by his shirt collar, landing your lips on his for the second time that night.

His hand shot to your hip, pulling you into him. Your tongue darted over his bottom lip, begging him to open his mouth. He did so without hesitation, knowing that he’d take you right there if it meant he got to have you at all. You were lost in the feeling, the taste of him intoxicating you more than any of the liquor you’d drank that night. You felt as though nothing could break your focus from the beautiful boy in front of you. But, all things come to an end, and in this case, it was by your name being called frantically.

“Hey, sorry to break up the moment, but we’ve got a problem.” Both of your roommates were in front of you, wide eyed and anxious. You were still coming back to reality, confusion etched in your features.

“What is it?” You finally mustered, taking a step back from Jake, who also looked very disgruntled.

“He’s here. He saw us, and he’s looking for you.” Your expression turned stone cold. Jake looked between you and the girls he didn’t know the name of, silently begging for someone to tell him what was going on. “We have to go.” They tried to usher you away, but you kept your feet planted to the ground.

“Let him find me.” There was no shakiness in your tone; you were serious, almost eager for him to come outside.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Ally said, shifting on her feet.

“I think it is.” You brought you drink to your lips, draining the last of the liquid into your mouth and swallowing it down. “This is my bar.” You reminded them.

“Okay, hold on,” Jake said, intervening now. “What isn’t a good idea?” With that, the front door to the building opened and a boy stepped outside, eyes immediately settling on you. You took a step forward, a smile twisting on your face.

“Finally found me, then?” You handed your glass off to one of your roommates, not looking to see who grabbed it. His eyes were menacing, but they had never scared you before, and they certainly weren’t, now.

“Didn’t have to look very hard.” He took a step towards you. Jake was watching, still unsure of the situation. He looked to the other two girls for an answer, but they weren’t paying any attention to him. “Just had to find the sluttiest outfit at the shittiest bar.”

“This is getting pretty pathetic, Aaron.” You crossed your arms over your chest, giving him a look of disdain.

“It’s been months. You won’t speak to me, you won’t answer my calls, you won’t even fucking look at me when we pass each other on the street.”

“I wonder why,” you rolled your eyes. “We broke up. You were an asshole, I left. Get over it.” You snapped. “Stop following me around to the bars and waiting for me outside of my apartment complex. It’s creepy; get a fucking life.”

“Maybe I would stop if you would just talk to me! I just want to have a conversation, maybe figure this out.” You scoffed.

“No, I don’t think we’ll be ‘figuring this out’ any time soon. Or ever, really. Take the fucking hint and move on. Or get some help, preferably.” He took a step towards you, a look of warning crossing his features.

“Don’t speak to me like that.” His voice was low.

“Should we stop her?” Jake whispered to your roommates, wondering if they were really going to let you take on a guy two times your size all on your own. They both looked back at him, having to bite back a grin.

“Honey, if you’re really interested in her, you’ve gotta understand: nobody can stop her. Most we can do is cheer her on.” The red-head explained. He was still nervous, looking at you and the unknown guy. He was towering over you, but you had no intent on backing down.

“Should we help her, then?” He asked.

“I promise, she doesn’t need any help.” The blonde one spoke now, a ghost of a laugh lingering in her tone. Jake backed down, deciding it was best to just watch how things played out before getting involved.

“You don’t even have the decency to give me any closure, and I come out here and see you whoring around with,” he looked at Jake for a moment. You could see the gears turning in his head while he searched for a good insult. “Van Halen wannabe?” You almost giggled at his shitty pass at Jake.

“At least the Van Halen wannabe could get me off if he wanted to.” You cackled. Your roommates gave Jake a pat on the back, reassuring him that it was alright. He wasn’t even paying attention to the insult thrown at him, more worried about you. There was quite a crowd forming now, everyone wanting to see what the fuss was about. Although, Jake did happen to notice, everybody was looking at the boy as if they were scared for him.

“Sure, you’re laughing now, but you won’t be when you realize he won’t stick around, either. You’re not worth much more than a quick fuck. He’ll realize that pretty soon, too.” The demeanour shifted quickly. You were no longer in a mood to throw insults back and fourth all night. You were itching for a fight. “You can spit out insults all you want, but it won’t change the fact that you’ll end up alone. Wasn’t hard to find someone better. All I had to do was bring home the first girl I saw at that party.” Your vision turned red, furious at the thought he’d even bring up that night. Your hands were vibrating, fuelled with rage at the sight of him, now.

Before anyone could do anything to stop it, your arm raised, hand balled as tight as you could get it, and you swung at his face. Your fist connected with his nose, knocking him backwards. He stumbled, hand coming up to grab where you’d hit him. “Sure, Aaron.” You shook your hand out, barely paying any mind to the stinging. “If telling yourself that helps you sleep at night, keep it up! But if you’re going to lie about it, you can at least leave me alone. Hard to believe you can find someone better when you’re still chasing after me like a lost puppy.” You gave him a sweet smile. He had straightened up and approached you again, about to open his mouth for another jab. Before he could, you moved swiftly, landing another punch to his face. “Now do me a favour and stay the fuck away from me.” It felt nice. You’d been waiting to do that for a long time, finally happy the perfect moment had presented itself.

By that point, the bouncer had caught on that something was going on outside. He’d pushed through the crowd, catching sight of you. “Y/n! Again?” He snapped, making a move towards you. You let out a laugh, stepping back.

“Sorry, Cody!” You shouted your apology to the bouncer as you turned towards your roommates. “Tell Mike I’ll see him next weekend!” You grabbed the girls hands, staring to make a run for it. Jake watched, still trying to process the entire interaction that had unfolded in front of him, amazed that a single punch from you could have knocked a boy that size, backwards. He only clued in to what was happening when you paused in front of a building a few down from where he was standing. You were pulling your heels off, still trying to walk while you did so.

“Wait, y/n!” He called after you, not willing to let you get away that easily. You turned back to look at him, faltering for a moment.

“Sorry, rockstar!” You yelled back, genuinely feeling your chest ache as you ran away. “Nice meeting you!” Your voice echoed through the street. You thought maybe you should turn around and get his number, but pushed the thought away. He was leaving in a few days and he’d likely never remember you, anyway. You told yourself it was for best.

Jake watched your silhouette disappear into the night, debating running after you. But he stood, frozen, until you were completely out of sight. He was head over heels for you from the minute he saw you, even more so now after seeing you hold your own against a man two feet taller than you and probably a hundred pounds heavier. In the background, he could hear the bouncer scrambling your ex-boyfriend to his feet, eager to get him off the property before he had to call the cops. Jake didn’t care to pay attention to it, though, because he was only caught up in wondering if he’d just let the love of his life run away without even getting your last name.

[da-mous]

enjoying smb wonder but I have so many tiny nitpicks? they don't kill the game by any means but like

-only one run button, so you can't hold one and press the other to swing the elephant trunk and shoot fireballs and such without losing speed. I was literally drafting a devblog post praising the ability to do that in Mario Maker a few days ago dhgdhdgd. I get that X is the emote button but damn

-just pressing jump while airborne and touching a wall isn't enough to perform a wall jump. you have to push into the wall to enter the wallslide state first. I don't remember if this is the case in other Marios, or maybe Celeste has just spoiled me, but it's tripped me up a few times and seems unnecessary!

-the spin jump makes no sense cause like. no matter how long you press the button it's always the same height as a full normal jump. I guess this is because it can be motion controlled? I keep pressing ZR trying to get a low jump like in Mario Maker but I get the opposite instead. beyond that it also just generally seems to have next to no utility unless you really wanna do an entire full height jump to kill a koopa without getting the shell for some reason

-no triple jump? I mean I guess a thing similar to it is a badge now but. why. they coulda done a cute rising pitch thing with the jump sfx. maybe even a full chord on the final jump. woulda sounded so nice!

-speaking of which, the spin double jump badge is best badge easy (why even use half the badges that give extra height through other means when this one does it best), but it also misses the opportunity to do a rising pitch thing with the jump sfx. idk maybe they tried it and it sounded annoying or something. just weird for the first jump to make a musical sound and the second to do something different entirely

-the emote and item reserve buttons (X and A) do nothing if pressed while the run button is held. why??

-R and ZR both spin jump. Nice. ZL ground pounds and crouches. ok nice. L does... I think it does nothing at all? why? maybe I'm missing something?

-feels like the same few music tracks get reused a lot

-there's like one level with climbable poles, and you can jump off of them as expected, but pressing spin jump does nothing. "why would you ever want to do that?? why do you care about this cass??" because uhhhhhhhhh

-I love the concept of the vine grapple badge but it feels slow and jankass to use

-I always try to let go of dash panels or drop out from ceilings I'm drilling into by releasing the jump button, but you actually have to press jump. pressing jump to go down is really counterintuitive!!

-however, pressing jump does not drop you down when hanging from a horizontal pole (a mechanic in a level or two). to do that you have to press down... and then hold it for a short time..? why can't I drop down right away? "cass it's like one level???" ok yeah but you can't spin jump out of a hang either!!! what about that!!!

-ok lastly I don't get the point of elephant mario. being big isn't really an interesting ability and the melee attack is nothing new. the water spraying doesn't add much either because even if the stage you're in does happen to have water it's not a particularly good projectile. it's mainly only useful to water withered plant dudes. a key for a lock

......anyways hdgdhsgdgs game good I'm just surprised at how many tiny things feel off. maybe this is just what happens when the small details on a game are your whole job for several months lol

[imarvelatstars]

She Walks In Starlight

Pairings: Clone Trooper Sister x f!Reader

Content: slight angst, rex's clone uprising, tbb s3 spoilers, vague description of blood and injuries, inspired by feast of starlight from the hobbit

Word Count: 2.6k

originally posted march 17th, 2024

[masterlist] [ao3 link]

Sister knows a disaster when she sees it; she's been through enough of them with the 212th. It's just that she's never had a disaster of this magnitude happen to her.

There's so much blood. It slicks her gloves until they're soaked, streaks across her armor until the pink and blue brushstrokes are entirely gone. And her heart. It's pounding in her ears so fiercely that she can feel the veins there ticking, feel her skin pulsating with each beat.

She scrambles out of the wreckage, but she's dizzy and her visor's busted, and everything feels wrong. Everything's too tight, too constricting. Her body's hot and cold all at once. And her head hurts like a kriffing clanker just walloped her in the face.

The helmet comes off and clatters atop the cobbles she's crashed upon. Then her knees give out.

The world is hazy now, distant and far away. Something in the back of her mind screams that this is bad, but she can't find it in her to care. Somehow, that seems bad too.

With the last of her strength, she forces her eyes open and fixates on the burning wreckage of her ship. Hardly a ship now when it's busted into pieces and melting all over the forest floor. But she made it, she realizes in a moment of clarity, and that makes her smile. Even if she dies here, even if this is the end of her story, she's proud to have made it this far. She escaped the Empire and that was all she wanted.

Well. Almost.

A breeze comes drifting through the leaves then and as it stirs her hair, Sister finds herself regretting just one last thing. She wishes she could have seen you again.

"We need a medic!"

Whatever was left of your tiingilar goes spilling across the table as Samson, Greer, and Koa breach the main entrance, half tripping over themselves as they carry a- is that kriffing body? Fireball swipes the remainder of his shit off the table - a data pad, his helmet, his own empty bowl - while you run for the nearest medpac.

"She's bleeding out. I need gauze!"

It doesn't hit you until the moment you return, when you see her, what he's said. She.

The body. The body wearing clone armor, painted blue and pink at the joints and chest, covered in blood. Is it her own? Utterly frozen, your eyes drop to the chestplate that's scored with dirt and vibroblade marks, chipped with paint that you know like the back of your own hand. Maker help you, you know that armor. You know her. Even without the armor, you'd know her.

The medpac is ripped from your hands and someone's grabbing you, shouting at you, but you can't hear a single thing they're saying because she is everything - everything you see, everything your universe contains - and she is bleeding out on the table where you take your meals each day.

You reach for her, but you never manage to grab hold. "Sister," you say, but the word is gritty and raw, dry in your mouth. "Sister. She's..." You don't even dare to say it for fear of speaking the nightmare into existence. But she's bloody and pale, and she's not waking up. And you know she's probably going to die. "Help her."

It's then that you realize why you can't reach her. It's Echo. He's holding you back, a hand wrapped around your elbow and the scomp on your back. You turn to him, but you don't see him, can't see him. All you see is her. Her hair, her eyes, closed but you know they're dark and warm beneath the lids. You know the path of her scars and the shape of her callouses, and she's here and you can't find her, and you can't see Echo, and it's all too much because it's all so wrong.

"Echo," you start. You're squirming as he fights to hold you back. "Echo, she's, she's not... She's bleeding. Help her."

"Samson's got her taken care of," he assures you. "You need to give him room to work."

But you shake your head. "No." That's not right either. "She needs me."

She's dying. Why else would there be so much blood?

"What she needs is for you to give them space to save her. She'll be alright."

And maybe she will be. Perhaps in some other dimension, she makes it out of this alive, but that's not here, that's not now. Here and now, you're watching the woman you love bleed out on the dinner table and it's the first time you've seen her since before the Republic collapsed. And you'll be damned if you're not by her side the entire time.

Echo doesn't seem to see it the same way, and that's what gets you detained in a holding zone for the next hour.

"She's stable now," he tells you once he returns to let you out. "You okay?"

Kriff no, you're not okay. Your stomach is churning and the whole inside of your cheek is raw from chewing on it, and your leg won't stop bouncing nor will your heart stop pounding. Because you really thought you'd lost her.

But for his sake, you attempt a polite grimace. "Yeah. Can I see her?"

His palm flattens against the door controls. Heart in your throat, you follow him across the compound to the table she rests on. All of her armor's been removed and stacked in a vaguely neat pile along the nearby supply crates, but it's still stained with blood, all crusty and rusted pink. Her body is crisscrossed with gauze strips and bacta patches, her blacks torn to shreds to the point where they're hardly useful anymore. But she's there, alive, and realer than any dream you've had before.

"Cyare."

Your hand finds her jaw before you even realize you're doing it. And for a moment, one singular, fleeting moment, it's as if you're back on Coruscant, as if this war had never happened, as if she's just got back from deployment and you're welcoming her into your flat. The way it used to be. The way it should have been.

"What happened to you?" you ask, though there's no one to answer you. Sister may be alive, but she's thoroughly unconscious and likely will be for a while if her injuries are anything to go by.

Your hands find one of hers and lift it to your mouth to press a kiss there, like you always used to do, but your lips are met with gauze. And it breaks your fucking heart.

"It's okay. It's okay, baby." You kiss the wrinkled slip of gauze across her knuckles. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Keeping busy is the only thing you can do. Your mind is too scattered to be of much use to anyone, so your usual duties are taken over by Greer, and the time spent anxiously waiting for Sister to wake is used on other things that won't drive you mad - checking her injuries and changing her bandages, scrubbing the blood from her armor, quietly whispering all the things you've longed to share with her in the year she's been gone. You tell her how you found Rex, the work you did in the early days of his rebellion shuttling food and clothes to the Martez repair shop. You tell her about the brothers that were lost and the brothers that were found, how every day you hoped and prayed you'd find her among the clones fleeing the Empire. You tell her that you never gave up searching, never stopped believing you'd find her again. You tell her you love her, but it's not enough to wake her.

Rex takes the empty end of the bench. "How're you holding up?"

The truth is too painful to verbalize, so you opt for a half-truth instead. "I'm okay. I'm just glad she's here."

He nods, almost smiling, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "You want me to watch her for a while?"

"No," you say far too quickly, and with a frantic urgency that should be embarrassing. It's not. Not when it's her. "Sorry. I just, I wanna be here when she wakes up."

A dozen different strings of thought seem to cross his mind then, though he doesn't speak any of them. Whatever he's thinking, he ultimately chooses to keep to himself. "I understand. It's not easy being the one who has to wait."

No, it's not.

"I'd suggest you take a break and get some sleep, but you're not gonna listen. Are you?"

You could apologize for it, but you'd both know it to be a lie. Instead, you offer Rex a smile that says everything you don't know how to say. He sighs.

"Once she's up. I promise."

"Alright." His hand rests gently on your shoulder and then he's gone.

Your attention returns to Sister, to the gentle rise and fall of her chest that marks a rhythm so familiar it might as well be carved into your very bones. "You'll be up soon, huh?" You lean in to nuzzle your cheek against the upper swell of her arm. "It'll be okay, cyare. I promise."

But by now, you're not sure if it's a promise you can keep. The Empire has taken so much from all of you, it would make sense for it to take her too. If you had never known she was still alive, it might have been easier. If you had been forced to endure the rest of your days believing in a dream that could never be, it might have been endurable, but now that you know she's been alive all this time, now that you know she tried to come to Teth and join the uprising, you're not sure you could ever know a moment of peace if she died here.

She has to live. There is no other option.

Hope comes late at night when the stars are out and your body has given in to exhaustion. You're stirred from your slumber when your head thunks solidly on the table. Still half asleep, you jerk into a sitting position and look around in an attempt to assess the situation. Is it an attack? Is something wrong? Is Sister alright?

"Mmh, where... am I?"

That voice. Oh Maker, that voice, you'd know it anywhere. You fear for the longest moment that it's a figment of your imagination, the product of your sleep-addled mind conjuring hallucinations, that this is all just another dream, but no. No, it's real. She's awake and blinking, frowning. She's alive.

You're so frantic to stand that you nearly trip over yourself trying to extract your legs from the bench. "Sister? Baby, are you-?"

"'s so dark," she slurs. "Can't... Where...?"

You're shouting before you even realize it. "Rex! Rex, she's awake!" You're so happy, you could cry. You are crying. "Cyare, honey, it's okay. It's me."

Her head tilts to one side, then the other as she tries to assess her surroundings, but it's clear she's struggling. A concussion, one of her brothers had said, a side effect of the crash that had nearly cost her life. Between that and the dimmed lights, it would be a miracle if she could make out anything in the entire compound.

Her furrowed gaze settles on you a moment later, only without a shred of recognition. "Who, who are you?"

Your heart is shattering. Every broken shard of it is piercing through your skin, ripping you apart from the inside out. Does she truly not remember you?

You press one of her hands to your face. "It's me, Sister, your..." Her what, exactly? There had never been a true label on the thing that simmered between you. In your head and in your heart, she had quite simply been yours as you had been hers. Now, though, you wish for a word deeper than girlfriend and more vibrant than lover. "You remember me?"

Rex, Nemec, and Samson come running in then with a couple of spare medpacs and wide, frantic eyes. Rex wordlessly asks for your hand - to take you away, no doubt, to let their brothers check her over. You know they need to, you know she needs the medical attention more than she needs you, but you hate having to leave her.

"No, wait, Rex, I can stay. Let me stay."

"That's not a good idea," he answers with a shake of his head. He's already starting to pull you away. "She'll be fine. Let's just give the boys some space, alright?"

You lunge for her hand as you're maneuvered apart. "Cyare, cyare, it's okay! It's okay, just stay awake for me, baby, okay? Rex, lemme-"

"Is that...?" It's as if your voice is a magnet, drawing her up until she's sitting upright, blindly searching the room for - for you? Your name is desperate on her tongue in the worst possible way. "Can't be..."

"Easy, vod," says Samson with a hand at her collarbone. "Lay back. You're still pretty roughed up."

Nemec leans in with a bacta stim. "Talk to me, Sister, okay? Can you do that?"

She frowns as she's laid back down. You've stopped struggling by now, but it's more from your own shock than anything else. This all feels too real and somehow not real enough. You're watching her as if through a lens, as if she were far away, as if your reality has ceased to exist while she wades through her the uncertainty of her own.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Sister grunts when Samson starts swiping disinfectant over one of her wounds. "My ship... They shot me right before I, I went to hyperspace, and then..." She starts to sit up again, but Nemec holds her down. "Where is she?"

"Your ship crashed in the jungle. Not much of it left, I'm afraid."

"No." She says your name again, softer this time, as Rex's arms tighten around you. "She was here, but... She can't be." You know the separation is for the best, that you'd be little more than a distraction if you were free, but it kills you just the same.

The two brothers exchange looks.

"Made sure of it," she mutters, and her head falls back against the table. "'s not safe."

You strain against the press of the Captain's vambraces, but he holds fast. "Rex, please."

Nemec offers her a comforting pat on the shoulder. "It's alright, vod, you're safe now. The Empire's not gonna find you here. We'll get you all taken care of."

But she keeps babbling, mumbling half-finished sentences that don't make any sense, about Kamino, Coruscant, the Empire, you. She keeps asking for you as if she were indeed still stuck in a dream, caught somewhere else where the world is vast and hope is a sure thing.

"Promised her I'd come back. Never, never did. Now she's far away." She smiles in the prettiest way she ever has, half delirious and broken, and you swear nothing's ever hurt so much as this does. "She's... she's like, like starlight."

Samson's head tilts in your direction, eyes dark and tired, but you think he might be inclined to smile. He applies another bacta patch to the worst of the wounds with gentle, steady hands. "Tell us about her."

"She's gone," she laments. "She'll forget about me. 's, 's for the best..."

Later, though, when the boys are gone and she's lucid, you'll tell her just how wrong she is. You'll tell her how you would have waited a lifetime for her, you'll tell her that she's too deeply imprinted on your heart for you to ever love another. And you'll hold her 'til the stars fall from the sky, 'til the universe crumbles around you. You'll tell her that she is the truest starlight you've ever known, always illuminating the darkest night with her brilliantly shimmering heart and her undying hope. You'll tell her that she walks in starlight in another world, and you're simply blessed to follow along in her wake.