#and the fact that she went through these things back to back over and over again is wild

[christinaroseandrews]

Storytime!

In 2013 @lesliebwrites and I went to Paris. We did the tourist bit--went to the Catacombs, got lost in the Louvre, felt ready to behead some royalty at Versailles--you know--the typical tourish shtick.

Now, I have a cane and use it (mostly for stability because vertigo, arthritis, and hypermobility are the fall-risk trifecta I do not wish on anyone). Additionally, I have allergy and food intolerances which make eating an adventure in what is going to be digested and what isn't. So accordingly, I had my state-issued Handicapped parking placard and a note from my doctor explaining my need for accommodation. When I travel in the states, this is usually more than enough (ADA doesn't even require these steps but it does make things easier.)

At the time, most of the places we went to in Paris did not have disabled toilets and it was a crapshoot (literally) if there would be a working toilet at all. (Note: The worst toilet/bathroom I have ever been in was in Paris. And I have traveled the American Southwest, rural south, and the back ass end of nowhere Applachia, and I have seen many a gas station and truckstop bathroom. You know the scene were Alex from the Mummy Returns goes to the toilet on the train? Yeah, this was worse-- complete with shit smears on the walls.) So when Leslie and I got to the Pompidou, we were pleasantly surprised to see an actual clean/working bathroom complete with a disabled stall.

So we decided, as you do, to use the facilities before wandering around the huge modern art museum. Since there were only 2 stalls total including the disabled stall and there was a line about 10 people deep, people were using whichever stall opened up first. But not me. It was near the end of our trip and I was feeling fairly unsteady, so I opted to use the disabled stall even though the non-disabled stall opened up first. Now remember, I have my cane with me -- this will be important later.

As I'm using the bathroom, I hear a small ruckus in the sink area of the bathroom. But the people are speaking French and while I can parse out very basic written French (thank you Spanish), I can't really understand spoken French. Especially colloquial French. So I ignore it.

Then, there's a banging on the door of the stall.

Thinking that the person is checking to see if there's anyone in the stall, I say. "It's occupied..." or at least I hope I say that.

The person on the other end says something but I don't understand them.

Then there's another bang on the door. This one fairly metallic. Like metal on metal rather than flesh on metal.

Okay...

I'm still using the toilet, so I concentrate on trying to finish quickly.

The banging continues.

When I finish, I pull myself together. Make sure the toilet flushes fully. And open the door.

On the other side, there's a short woman about a decade or so older than me using a cane. The cane is held upright in her hands like she's about to club me over the head with it. She opens her mouth to say something, then looks down...

To my cane.

I swear underwent the full gamut of emotions in a second -- anger, chagrin, guilt, apologetic, embarrassed... The latter of which wasn't helped by the chuckles and murmurs coming from the other people who had watched this go down. Eventually she said something before darting into the stall.

I could see Leslie waiting for me by the sinks, an amused smirk on her lips. Because she was thinking the same thing I was: This woman had barged through the line to get to the disabled stall -- which okay sometimes you need to go -- but when she found the stall occupied, she started berating me and pounding at the door to try to get what she thought was an abled person out of the stall. The fact that someone else might be disabled never crossed her mind.

And to be honest, even if I hadn't had my cane that day I would have still been disabled and still needed to use the disabled stall because of the higher seat and the handrails.

You can't tell if someone is disabled or not. You just can't. You can't know, nor should people have to disclose, their disabilities. But my story and people's reactions of "it's okay to use it if no one else needs it..." shows that there's a disconnect and it can leave disabled people frustrated to the point where they can't comprehend that there are other disabled people...

So my answer is nuanced... check first. Don't use it just because you like bigger stalls. And in general, leave them open even if there's a line.

I was in a rest area along one of the interstates... I think it was in Pennsylvania but don't quote me on that... and again there was a line. And for the most part, people left the disabled stall open. If someone really needed to go, they asked the line. And people let parents with small children go first and they often used the disabled stall. As a disabled person, I didn't have an issue with it.

It's nuanced and situational dependent. But in the end, what we really need is for all stalls to be disabled friendly and for there to be more accessible and public bathrooms... period.

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[00valentina-writes00]

Hello, ccan you do Sevika x reader who's like stupid ticklish? (And hates being tickled with a passion, like will start crying. (Projecting))

Like any time she tries to tickle them they almost kick her in the stomach, or if she pinches readers side they jump five feet in the air and look scared asf

♡♥︎ The Tickle Fight ♥︎♡

Warnings: Sensitivity to tickling, fluff, and a loving but mischievous Sevika.

Sevika was a woman of few words and even fewer weaknesses. She was the kind of person who could take on a whole group of people without batting an eye, someone who commanded respect just by walking into a room. You could always feel the strength radiating off her, the sheer confidence that seemed to make everyone else step aside.

But even she had a soft side. And you were her soft spot.

Which was exactly why you had to endure things like this.

It started with a harmless little pinching of your side.

You had been sitting on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while Sevika sat beside you, her muscular arm casually draped over the back of the couch. You were comfortable, almost relaxed, when suddenly, you felt a sharp pinch at your side.

Before you could even process it, your entire body jolted as though you’d been electrocuted. You leaped a good three feet into the air, eyes wide in terror, and you let out a half-scream, half-squeal.

“Sevika!” you gasped, slapping a hand over the spot where she’d pinched, trying to suppress the ticklish aftershocks that were still running through your body.

Sevika’s deep laugh rumbled through her chest as she watched you struggle to compose yourself. Her face remained as stoic as ever, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes that gave her away. She liked this. She liked making you squirm in the worst possible way, and she found it endlessly entertaining.

“Didn’t know you were that ticklish,” she teased, a smirk curling at her lips. Her tone was casual, as if she hadn’t just reduced you to a blubbering mess of squeaks and frantic movements.

You shot her a glare, but the tension in your body was still too tight for it to be truly menacing. “Don’t you dare try that again, Sevika. I’m warning you.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the warning. “And what are you going to do about it?”

You knew it was futile to try and intimidate her. She was so strong, so capable, and every time you tried to give her a serious look, she would just laugh and ruffle your hair, as though you were nothing more than an amusing little kitten.

But sevika also knew you had a weakness. And it was this weakness that she kept trying to exploit.

You tried to stand up, get away from the inevitable ticklish torment that was bound to follow. But before you could even get to your feet, she reached out, effortlessly grabbing your wrist and pulling you back down onto the couch with a strength you couldn’t contest.

“Sevika, stop!” you squealed, your voice a little more panicked than you intended. But she wasn’t listening. She had already pinned you down on the cushions with one hand, and with the other, she started gently poking at your side.

That was all it took.

You went absolutely bonkers. Your whole body jerked in response, your hands flying to the spot where she was attacking, but it was too late. You were already giggling uncontrollably, trying to squirm away, but her grip on you was like iron. You could feel your heart racing, your breath coming in short gasps as you tried to escape.

“Sevika! Please!” you shrieked between fits of laughter, kicking your legs out in a panic. You had no control over your reactions; it was like your body had betrayed you. You hated being tickled, and you hated the fact that she knew this.

“Oh, you’re so cute when you beg,” she murmured, her voice teasing, but there was a fondness behind it that made you almost stop struggling. Almost.

“Stop!” You kicked your legs out again, a little more aggressively this time, and—bam. Right into Sevika’s stomach.

She grunted and almost lost her balance, but she didn’t let go. You managed to pull your arms free, but her body was still holding you in place.

You glared at her, tears welling in your eyes from the overwhelming sensation of being tickled, but it was hard to stay mad when her face was showing such visible amusement.

“You really don’t like being tickled, huh?” Sevika murmured, more to herself than to you. She released you finally, giving you the space to catch your breath. You took full advantage of it, leaning forward and wiping away the slight tears that had formed in your eyes from how intense the whole experience had been.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you gasped, voice a little shaky as you struggled to calm down. “You scared the hell out of me!”

Sevika only smirked. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, her tone dripping with that mischievous charm that always made your pulse spike. “But you’re so damn easy to mess with. It’s adorable.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, resisting the urge to kick her again. “I’m not adorable, and I will destroy you if you ever try that again.”

Sevika tilted her head, clearly enjoying this more than she should have. “Destroy me, huh? Sounds tempting.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, trying to pretend you weren’t still tingling from the aftermath. “You always do that. Always act like I’m some fragile thing that’s too easy to break. It’s not funny.”

Sevika’s expression softened just a little, though the usual teasing gleam didn’t leave her eyes. She shifted closer to you, her weight settling next to yours as her arm draped around your shoulder. You stiffened at first, but her warmth was oddly comforting, and the tension in your body slowly melted away.

“I know you don’t like being tickled,” she said quietly, a rare moment of sincerity in her voice. “But it’s hard not to tease you when you react so damn cutely.”

You shot her a half-hearted glare. “You’re a menace.”

She let out a short laugh, nudging you with her elbow. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” Her words were casual, but they had a weight to them that was hard to ignore.

“I swear to God, Sevika,” you muttered, but it was clear that despite the teasing, you didn’t mind her closeness. The threat of tickling was still lingering, but for now, you were just content to let her be close to you, even if it meant enduring a little bit of teasing every once in a while.

Sevika knew how to push your buttons, but you also knew she would never push you past your limits. She had her moments of being a bit of a menace, but there was no one else you’d rather be stuck with. Even if it did mean occasional tickle attacks that almost made you die of embarrassment.

“I’m not always gonna let you get away with it, though,” you muttered, leaning into her side as she shifted to rest her head on your shoulder.

“Oh, I’m counting on that,” Sevika said, her voice light and teasing again. “The challenge is half the fun.”

You let out a sigh, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I’m gonna get you back one of these days.”

Sevika’s chuckle vibrated against your body, the warmth of her laugh spreading through you. “Sure you will, baby. Sure you will.”

And deep down, you knew you’d probably never get the upper hand on her. But maybe the teasing, ticklish battles weren’t so bad.

[darlingstarkey]

think later - pt 17 (FIC & smau)

series masterlist

summary - y/n, formerly a pogue princess, finally had her big breakthrough and got signed to a record label in LA. little did she, her boyfriend rafe cameron and the rest of her friends know how things would really change as soon as she becomes famous.

anything in dark mode is rafe's phone!

authors note (IMPORTANT): im so sorry i was mia recently. i had so much going on and just got super overwhelmed! i finally figured out how i want this to end :) expect to see very very fluffy rafe upcoming. i kinda wanna turn this into something sweeter after their rough patch! what do you guys think?!

THIS PART IS VERY WORD HEAVY. NO SOCIAL MEDIA WAS USED IN THIS PART.

CONSIDER THIS A PT. 17 & THE NEXT PART WILL BE 17.5! I JUST REALLY WANTED TO MAKE THIS FIC ACTIVE AGAIN AND DEVELOP THEIR STORY :)

wc: approx 1.4k

warnings: canon!rafe mentioned, depression mentioned, rough childhood mentioned, swearing, drugs mentioned, crying, soft!rafe, angst but eventual fluff, y/ns parents, long monologue. cliff hanger.

-

and there he was, in fact outside. rafe stood there wearing a fitted white t-shirt, with a slightly grown out buzz cut and a badly shaved stubble. he looked different, tired, sad, exhausted even. rafe leaned against his ferrari and stiffened as soon as you walked out and up to him.

looking up at him you grabbed his jaw and tilted it to the side, biting the inside of your cheek as you inspected him. "you look like shit." you smirked slightly, breaking the awkwardness between you two. he playfully swatted your hand away, bringing you into a familiar warm hug.

"i missed you." he choked out, nestling face into your neck. his voice was raw and broken. you could feel rafe's tears plant themselves in your skin, almost burning you with how much pain you felt in this moment. all of what you went through with him in the past couple of weeks had all just melted away in this moment. having rafe hold you in his strong arms, inhaling his familiar scent of pine trees and whiskey and his warmth, felt healing to you.

you pull him away to see his bright red face and tears freely streaming down them. "i missed you too." you say softly, wiping away his tears. you apologetically smirk up at him, "wanna talk inside?" you say shrugging your shoulder in the direction of your newly acquired mansion.

he nods softly and follows you into your home. it was different, for sure, compared to the run down 2-bedroom for you and your parents back in the cut. this home had everything anyone could ever ask for, and it's exactly what you deserved.

as the door clicked, you heard your mother call out "y/n?" she echoed through the house. "yeah mom, here.." you sigh, waiting for this interaction between your mother and rafe to be over. you swore you could see her eyes bulge out of her head as she laid them on rafes figure.

"oh rafe darling!!" she smiled sweetly as she headed over to cup her hands in between his cheeks. "how have you been my love?" she smiles at him. his face turned a bright pink as he replied, "hi mrs. y/l/n, i've been well, how are you?".

"oh same old same old, except missing my gorgeous daughter here. i can't believe she's about to go all the way to europe for months! can't you believe it?!" your mother beamed. of course she was proud, anyone would be. but this right now, was not what neither you or rafe needed before the conversation you were about to have.

"of course i can believe it.. she's amazing." rafe said genuinely as he looked down at you with admiration.

"well, mom, we'll be upstairs if you need us." you smile softly at your mother, while giving her a 'what are you doing?!' look. finally getting the hint, your mother steps out of the way back to doing whatever task she was indulging in before. you and rafe head up the massive stairs leading to your bedroom.

as rafe steps in, it's almost instantly foreign territory. everything is upgraded and completely different from your old bedroom. no crayola marks from when you were six all over the walls, no piles of clothes due to a lack of dresser, but there was one thing. a photo of you two framed on your night stand.

rafe picks it up and smiles at it while shaking his head. "i remember this day.." he recalls. "you looked so beautiful in that dress, i remember kiara begging us to drive her out onto the main land and hours away for her photography skill development." he chuckles at the memory.

"yeah, that was fun. it was the day you told me you loved me for the first time.." you agreed and plopped next to him and took the photo from his hands, your thumb caressing the glass as if it was the most delicate thing in the world. "we were running hand in hand through the grass and i just remember the look in your eye, you looked like there wasn't a worry in the world rafe.." you look over at him, and he's already staring.

"that's because with you, there isn't..." rafe mumbled.

he starts to twiddle his fingers between eachother, a habit that you've noticed that he engages in when he's anxious.. "listen y/n, i've been a real fucking jerk since you left." he sighed and looked at you with pleading eyes. you gulped, anticipating the words that would come out of his mouth.

"y/n, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. i never knew anything about love, compassion, honesty, and loyalty before i met you. you remember who i was then, a broken kid from a broken home with nothing but money to fix my issues. you fixed me, you took every little broken piece of me and put it together, and i don't think anyone else in the world is able to do that for me but you.

it's not even the way you fixed me, it's the way you managed to do so gracefully just by being yourself. you understood all my breakdowns, all my anger and sadness and it wasn't because you felt like you had to, its because you wanted to.

i am the luckist man in the world to have had you for the time that i did. so even if you just listen to all of this then decide that you don't want to be with me anymore, then so be it. because i know i got to experience great, pure and real love that everyone talks about in the movies." he choked out.

rafe took a long pause before continuing. "i was an idiot, i fucking know. but there's no "how-to" for when your girlfriend suddenly becomes one of the biggest pop stars in the world and you're the one at home fighting the same issues that you would before she came into your life.

god i'm proud of you, hell i wanted you to become famous even more than you did at one point. but when you left it was like a piece of me left and i was fucking scared you would never come back.

your welcome party sucked, i was so worried i had been replaced already.. then jj was there when i was just stuck here already wishing for you to come back and i just spiraled. everything was a threat to me. those LA boys, jj, and just you living out your dream without me there. i went to sofia because she was the only person who would actually listen to me. i never liked her. i was fucking desperate, y/n. i promise you she never meant anything to me. that night at the party with her, was a mistake.

i never wanted to do anything with her, i just wanted to get her alone to talk about how i'd been feeling. and that's why i said something i didn't mean. i was so mad and upset because i felt so lost without you.

i dealt with all of this pressure and issues we had by acting like my old self, the rafe that would just manipulate, bully and push away everyone so badly that it hurt them to protect myself. and i did that to you. i shouldn't have done that because you didn't ever deserve that treatment from me. i let you down these past couple of weeks with all my actions.

i know it isn't an excuse, y/n. i know that what i said was fucked up and horrible. i know i shouldn't have broken up and ran away when things got hard. i wouldn't forgive me if i were you, but i just wanted you to know.

i wanted you to know so i wouldn't live the rest of my life without telling you." he stated sharply, still holding the intense eye contact with you. your face felt hot, and you barely noticed the tears streaming down your face. the silence between you two was so loud that the only thing that was genuinely heard was your thumping heart.

"oh.. and she likes barry.." he says finally.

"w-what?" you choke out, barely hearing him from the ringing noise in your ears.

"sofia. she likes barry." he whispered and looked down at his finger nails.

you placed your hand on top of his and softly touched his hand. rafe shivered at the heat radiating from your hand as it interlinked itself with his almost instinctively.

-

thanks for reading if you made it this far :) let me know what you think! next part so soon.

taglist: @madkohi, @yesshewrites1, @grapejuice32, @leotapes , @givemylovetoall, @inlovewrafe, @bee-43, @larvalerius, @masongetinmybed, @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not, @mystargirl-interlude, @eddxemxnson, @sqfewrd, @pogueprincesa, @frankoceanluvr11, @raeven-marie43, @marleymarleymarleymarley, @mindfulmesses, @akobx, @spenceatiny18, @fluoxetinys, @lolxdswag123, @st8rkey, @ethanthequeefqueen, @drewrry, @jjmaybankmylovee, @disaster-rose, @sunshinedaisy21, @chillgal135, @amterasuu, @wtfisastiles, @sassyvillaintrophy, @bananaminn, @barnesboo1967, @pi4st81, @stvrkeysgal

xo, dylan

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Okay I've been thinking about this second addition ever since you wrote it and today I went back to find it. Because I think you can still see the bones of how Viktor and Jayce were originally intended to parallel not Vi and Caitlyn but Vi and Jinx. The sisters and the "brothers."

Vi also gets pulled between her loyalties to her sister and to her romantic partner and the worlds/ideas they represent. A lot of her internal conflict in the show comes from her feeling like she is being forced to choose between the people she loves and being unable to do so. Vi and Jayce both deal with the person they love going to the "dark side," as it were; being transformed almost beyond recognition through something terrible and traumatic happening to them. They both deal with thematic question of: is this still the person I love? What do I do with the fact that they did terrible things? Is the person I love metaphorically dead now, or are they still in there somewhere? And I think Jinx and Viktor have a lot of their own parallels in terms of questions of agency and how much they're shaped by trauma/control or manipulation by outside forces vs. making their own choices, plus the parallel of wanting to help but unintentionally causing destruction.

Of course the two relationships were never going to read exactly the same, because that would be boring, and because Vi and Jinx are literal sisters who share a history of loss and adversity. Viktor and Jayce meet each other as adults coming from different worlds; the circumstances of their relationship certainly leave it open to a romantic reading even if the show hadn't made it so goddamn gay. But then they did. They made it so so gay.

If I had to guess I would say this happened through a combination of the dynamic you described above (cishet male showrunner stumbles ass backward into writing The Gayest Shit Imaginable) and various members of the cast and crew starting to actively ship it over the course of production. Which is why you have this mix of things that are insanely romantic while Not Technically A Romance (ie. "you saved my life as a child in a way that inextricably bound our destinies together so that one day I could save you from a fate worse than death") and things that fall under "this was obviously planned and intentional and there is no heterosexual explanation for it."

I feel like so much of the silly Mel vs. Viktor discourse when it comes to Jayce would be resolved if people realized that the plot was originally conceived as a basic morality play arc with Mel as the devil on one shoulder and Viktor as the angel on the other for Jayce.

The bones of Jayce's plot in Season 1 is of a good-guy scientist who is tempted by the allure of politics and fame, with a beautiful femme fatale politician seducing him towards power on the one side and his humble 'brotherly' relationship with his scientific partner representing Jayce's 'true self' that he is drawn away from by her machinations. It's a very, very old school, reductive, male-centric plot that literally boils down to "bros before hos".

It even makes sense for S2, with Jayce overcoming his corruption arc in S1 and returning to his "bro" only for his prior sins to tragically launch Viktor's own corruption arc as the Machine Herald only after Jayce has learned his lesson.

And then the Arcane writers and Fortiche subverted this plot. Here's how:

They made all three characters multi-faceted adults with their own agency and motivations. None of them are puppets for the others or, if they are, the time one character spends controlling the choices of another becomes part of that controlling character's sins that must be atoned for (namely, Jayce resurrecting Viktor against his will, Mel manipulating Jayce against his will, Viktor trying to control everyone against their will).

For example, they made Mel complex and interesting and a good person in her own right. Yes, she still has elements of the beauty, danger, and allure of a femme fatale but by making her her own person with her own plot and motives, none of which are malicious (at most, they are self-serving until she changes her views on Hextech and how best to bring peace to Piltover).

Jayce is still torn between Mel and Viktor but he also fully has his own agency, as many are quick to point out. He is often dragged around by the manipulations of others too (Mel yes, but also Marcus, Vi, and Ambessa influence Jayce into bad decisions). Part of his arc is learning how to be true to himself and his own goals after his time spent in the Anomaly future. But, even there, you can still see the bones of the original morality play arc, where the "Good Ending" for Jayce is to go back to his lab partner "bro" and bring both of them back to being true to themselves.

Viktor isn't just helplessly standing by while Jayce ignores him. In fact, Viktor often deliberately cuts Jayce out of his experiments. He doesn't tell Jayce about the Shimmer, or the self-experimentation, or even about Sky's death until after Jayce resurrects him with the Hexcore. Viktor has agency, he has his own goals, and while he frequently chastises Jayce for abandoning their shared dream in what I believe is another hint of the bones of the original morality play plot, he also has his own flaws and his own journey to go on independent of Jayce.

Much of the silly bickering I see between Mel and Viktor fans comes down to who "deserves" Jayce, who is "erased" by not ending up with Jayce, whether or not Mel is manipulative, or if Viktor thinks about Jayce at all when he's busy pursuing his own goals, and I think all of those are absurd arguments.

Mel is manipulative, it is part of the bones of the morality play plot that has her as the antagonist, but they made her so much more than that, that I think it's an active disservice to the character they made to reduce her story down to whether or not she ends up with Jayce. I get why people get hung up on it, because I do believe it's the core of the first draft of her plot, but the richness of her character comes from moving beyond that. Indeed, in S2, the least important part of her character is her relationship to Jayce. She has her own stuff going on.

Whether or not Jayce is a victim of manipulation or whether or not he pursued power for its own sake is also showing an understanding of the basic, core plot they built the richness on top of. Jayce was seduced by Mel's manipulation and he did grasp after power, but they enriched his character by making his goals more noble and more tragic. He's always trying to fight for Viktor, for Hextech, for their shared dream, and for making Piltover a safer, better place, but how he goes about it often makes matters worse until he learns, grows, gains wisdom, and makes terrible mistakes he arguably can never make up for fully.

Jayce also isn't fully a victim of Mel's manipulation, just as she is not fully a mastermind able to control his every move. He breaks away at a certain point and makes his own (poor) decisions in ways that frighten her and make her regret her actions, until he grows enough to recognize the wisdom in her advice (though he later grows again and recognizes the original manipulation, which leads to him breaking up with her in 2.08 because Mel's sins are still there and they are the reason she and Jayce don't have hope for a future together once he realizes he can't trust her because actions have consequences in Arcane).

As for Viktor, he doesn't like Mel. In that, I think we again see the original morality play roots, with him as the angel on the shoulder disliking the devil who is seducing Jayce. But they enriched his character by having him respect Jayce's choices even as he may have privately disapproved of them, and to have his own arc to worry about with his failing health, and his other flaws like intellectual tunnel vision/naiveté, and his tendency to self-isolate in the face of his terminal illness. He has his own stuff going on.

They also subverted the morality play arc to a certain extent by having Viktor stop being the angel in S2. Indeed, the framework more or less falls away entirely and it become Jayce trying to save Viktor from himself, and from Jayce's own mistakes of not destroying the Hexcore, while Mel is busy with her own story of politics, war, and magic.

Anyway, I hope some of this makes sense. But I think if people just recognized that yes, there are elements of Mel as a bad guy in the fabric of the story, of a story where Jayce is in a balancing act between his demons and his angels, but that good writers came in and layered real people over these simplistic plots, made it so Mel's story isn't just about Jayce, Jayce's story isn't just about getting corrupted by a femme fatale, and Viktor's story isn't just about being abandoned by Jayce, and thus elevated the trope beyond its tired-out, simplistic roots, there'd be a lot less wank.

[tumblingxelian]

No Pit Madness - What the Lazarus Pit might actually do to a human brain:

So, I hate the whole "Pit Madness" BS but I do find how the brain works fascinating and ended up wondering how something like the pit might effect the brain and if it could influence behaviors in a none ableist or "Evil magic" way. So please join me as I outline a fun little thought experiment about how the Lazarus Pit could influence someone's personality, but not in the way you'd expect!

Let's begin with a fun fact!

When we experience trauma is can leave a physical mark on our brain even if it wasn't physical trauma it still mars the fleshy sponge that is our brain.

This can be useful, like learning fire = hot & the ensuing pain = bad!

It can also hard-code in a lot of really bad stuff which is why when it comes to certain mental illnesses medications to suppress certain parts of the brain need to be taken for upwards of ten years. This is to ensure the damage does not keep perpetuating itself while the brain builds new neural pathways until the source of the sickness is gone.

So, now imagine if you get dumped in a Lazarus pit and and EVERYTHING comes back in perfect clarity. That's likely why people coming out are so initially panicked and wild, they are experiencing total sensory overload on a level never before imagined!

But, the influence of the pit likely lingers as it works its way through the body and so its still repairing damage as it happens. Which is key to my next point and we'll use Ra's as an example.

Ra's was a doctor, a healer, a man who wanted to better the world. But in that journey he saw and eventually did terrible things. Things that would forever change him, quite literally in this case.

Because imagine if you will, all that stuff coming back all at once, but then imagine the Lazarus pit remnant going "Oh the brains getting damaged real fast, better fix that!"

Put simply, it effectively heals the damage done to the mind via traumas as the brain is trying to process and learn from them.

This happens be they brought up by the pit or simply on the persons mind in the immediate after effects. The brain is trying to hard code in "Thing bad" but the Lazarus pit won't allow the brain to experience that kind of damage and wins out for at least a time. Essentially fortifying the mind against taking this kind of damage.

Using Ra's as an example the longer he lives, the more he sees and does, the more this stuff compounds and the more the pit has to heal when he goes in and comes out. By virtue of getting that healing, those actions no longer have the same kind of mental or emotional impact they once did. Causing him to become increasingly alienated from the human condition and the horrors he inflicts on others.

Now, for someone who went into the pit once this is likely not a huge deal but let's go over some example using this current model:

1: Cassandra Cain was killed by Shiva and thrown in a pit, she came out and killed Shiva, something she would normally be so violently opposed to she'd die rather than do it. This isn't merely philosophical for Cassandra it is also rooted in intense trauma. But this act did not impact her the way it should. Cassandra retains her intellectual and emotional morals, but the trauma that comes with seeing or causing death no longer hits her the way it once did, because her brains now been hard-wired to be able to handle that without taking damage.

2: Bruce has if I recall been in the pit at times, so wouldn't the trauma over his parents be lessened? No, because Bruce tends to go in the pit when he's on missions and thus compartmentalizing. Thus instead the trauma is just as bad or slightly worse because its in a sense been refreshed once he's out of mission mode and the Lazarus Pit effects wear off. IE, he got factory reset but kept all his memories, now they are just clearer than ever before and that's worse.

3: Much like the the above, Jason was factory reset as far as is brains physical trauma went and so confused when he came out that he wasn't entirely clear on having died over just getting injured. By the time he did know the pits effects had worn off, so this was his brains first major "new" old trauma, and thus it responded the way a new brain does to trauma with "This is the worst thing because its the first bad thing" magnifying its impact and solidifying it in his brain.

This hasn't made any of them new people, they retain agency in their actions and beliefs. But for a physical comparison, its like how some stories have someone coming out of the pits feet be baby smooth and thus needing to build up calluses, except for the brain.

The difference is, because one retains the memories, if they are in a calm scenario and ideally unconscious when first coming out of the pit, they could wake up, calmly meditate on things and come out more or less the same as before save maybe a little more level.

Most people cannot do that and so their brain gets a jagged, clumsy, often entirely unhelpful wave of protective film over major horrors, or get to experience them again like they are brand new with no in-between. Thus meaning the results tend to be either:

"Huh, that used to fuck me up but now it doesn't."

Or

"Oh gods this is worse than I remembered it, aaah!"

Or in other words you either get over stuff you probably shouldn't or get super re-traumatized with no middle ground and neither is ideal.

[jessjad]

Please? I have a Dean Winchester x reader request. The idea I had was the reader coming back from trying to have a normal life after 2 years but being saved by Dean from her abusive ex-boyfriend, who was possessed by a demon. She calls him from a motel after escaping from the attack and almost getting killed.

Feel free to message me if you want to ask questions. I can't wait to read it.

A/N: So, this request from @ravenrose18 immediately sparked some ideas. And I was changing things over and over again. This could've gone so many ways and I think I got the best compromise out of it all. I hope, you like it, lovely! Thanks so much for sharing your request with me! 💜

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2948

Warnings: 18+ only!!! (Only for the violence), tension, abuse, cuts, wounds, angst, feelings.

My Masterlist

Voice from the past

Dean was nervous. Really nervous. He was driving toward Arkansas City. As Baby purred gently across the streets, AC/DC played softly on the radio. The almost four-hour journey from Lebanon seemed to never end, even though there was so much distance behind him. He was only about thirty minutes away to be exact, but it still felt like a long way away. But even if he had had to drive another four hours, he would have done it.

He kept thinking back to last week. The day he got a message that he hadn't really expected. It came from Y/N. Sam would now say 'the Y/N' and somehow he was right. Even though Dean wouldn't admit it, of course.

But Y/N had been a part of his life for a long time. She grew up with Bobby after he was the only one who saved her from the clutches of a werewolf. Unfortunately, her family wasn't so lucky. And since Dean and Sam were often at Bobby's and somehow grew up there themselves, they had become friends over the years.

Y/N had also grown up as a hunter and Dean had taught her to shoot at some point. She got better and better as time went on, becoming more fearless and brave. And Dean had to admit then and there that he had fallen in love. Feelings that still persist to this day.

That's exactly why he didn't like thinking back to his last conversation with her. It was almost two years ago when Y/N explained to him that she wanted to give up the hunter life. Dean hadn't really known how to react. Over the years they had solved cases together and traveled together, even if their paths had always diverged. But the fact that she wanted to quit because of a guy surprised the older Winchester.

Todd. His name was Todd. Urgh...was there a name that sounded even more wimpy? He wouldn't be surprised if he drank warm milk. Dean cleared his throat briefly at that thought. Okay, maybe the jealousy came out of him for a moment. And maybe also the disappointment that he simply couldn't find the heart to tell her that he wanted to keep her by his side. That she was important to him.

But well, maybe now he had a new opportunity to do so. Because according to her own statement, Todd was now a thing of the past and she wanted to go back to the hunter life. A second chance. And Dean was determined to use it too.

A moment later his cell phone rang and when he saw Y/N calling him, his heart beat a little faster. This was the first time Y/N actually called since she contacted him. He answered the call with a small grin.

"Hey, sweatheart. I'm not even twenty minutes away. I could stop and bring us some greasy burgers. What do you think?"

But he didn't get an immediate answer.

"Hello? Y/N?" he asked again and then he heard it.

Heavy breathing and a slight wince. He furrowed his brows and worry spread through him. But again it took a few seconds before he got an answer.

"Dean?" came faintly and with a pained undertone from the other side.

This was definitely not what he expected and he automatically stepped on the gas a little more.

"What happened?"

It stinked. This motel smelled. The worn out carpet, the musty bed linen, the tattered curtains. Even the wallpaper seemed to give off a foul smell. And yet Y/N was happy that she had somehow made it here. The hotel was abandoned, no longer in use, and she was lucky that the door to this room at the back of the building wasn't locked. Even if it had taken a lot of effort for her to even get in.

Now Y/N was crouched behind the bed in the corner and the adrenaline that had given her the strength and stamina to make it this far was slowly wearing off. And the more she calmed down, the more her body began to ache. The cuts on her arms and legs were the least of her problems. Her ankle was now throbbing quite badly and she knew she had several bruises.

Her heart was racing and she tried to calm down, but it wasn't that easy. Every time she tried to take a deep breath, her chest would rebel and her left shoulder would experience stabbing pain. She didn't have to question the fact that this was probably the worst injury.

Y/N carefully tried to pull the jacket off her shoulder when she noticed that she was losing more and more feeling in her left arm. She huffed and moaned slightly. The makeshift bandage that Y/N had pressed over the gaping wound was now soaked with blood and small red rivulets were making their way down her arm.

She was in pretty bad shape.

This was not how Y/N had imagined her return to hunter life. She slowly tried to sit up a little, but failed. With a dejected laugh, she briefly closed her eyes and tried to suppress the tears that wanted to make their way down her cheeks. When did everything go so wrong? She had just wanted to meet Dean to get up to speed. And now here she was, lying on the dirty floor of a disused motel, probably bleeding to death.

But then her memory got a little jolt. Dean! She had to call Dean. And so, with a blood-stained hand, she strained to fish her cell phone out of her back pocket. It still took three more attempts to dial his number.

As she listened to the beep, she realized that she was slowly losing consciousness. Y/N is finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate and stay awake. But as soon as she heard Dean's deep voice greeting her happily, it gave her another push.

But she still found it difficult to speak and her body seemed to ring like an alarm with every movement.

"I'm... not in Arkansas City... anymore." she replied almost breathlessly.

"Where are you?" came the question in a firm and determined voice.

"I'm... in an abandoned... motel outside... of Winfield." Y/N suppressed a painful groan. "Dean... I'm... hurt pretty bad."

There was a brief, almost unsettling silence before Dean spoke again.

"Okay, listen. Don't move and try to stay calm. I'll be right there. The only thing you have to do is stay awake. Alright? Don't fall asleep."

She agreed to this as best she could and after giving Dean the name and room number, they hung up.

The silence that followed was almost deafening. Y/N heard her pulse racing and the blood rushing in her ears. Still, she tried to stay awake. With her right hand she lightly pressed the wound on her left shoulder. The small pulses of pain that the pressure sent through her body helped her. That, and the thought of Dean. His green eyes, the mischievous smile, his dark voice.

Y/N had been in love with him for such a long time now. She couldn't even remember when it happened. But she had known that she had to free herself from him at some point. Because it was clear that he would never feel the same for her. All the women he spent the nights with, at one point it had been to much. And when Todd showed up in her life two years ago, it was almost like a sign.

But she didn't think that the exit and the distance from Dean would draw her back to him. She loved him and she wanted to at least try to win him over.

So she had talked to Todd. He had been nice from the start. He had been charming and always seemed as if there were no problems in the world that couldn't be solved somehow. He had embodied freedom and somehow Y/N had wanted that too. The hunter's life was hard and you had to renounce many things.

She had really liked him, but nothing more had come of it over time. And then over a year in, he started to change. He got more and more aggressiv, until he had hit her the first time. That was three monts ago. At first she had not known how to react to that, but the more the abuse happened, the more she knew she had to get away.

So she explained to him that she wanted to go back to her old life. She hadn't mentioned that that also meant Dean. Todd didn't take the decision too well. He was furious and she had feared that he would attack her. So she bolted to Arkansas City. But of course he found her there and his black eyes stared into hers as he stabbed the knife into her shoulder.

"How could... I be so stupid?" Y/N said to herself. “Why didn’t I... notice anything?”

Her head started to spin and every second felt like an hour. She slipped in and out of consciousness. She had to try harder and harder to stay awake. And just when she thought she could not do it anymore, the door busted open and she heared Dean calling her.

When Dean spotted Y/N behind the bed and knelt down in front of her, he had to swallow. She looked pale, weak and fragile. Not at all like the young, cheeky woman he remembered. But he just couldn't let that show. He carefully touched her lower leg and Y/N opened her eyes.

As soon as she saw Dean, her tears flowed and relief was written all over her face. It almost broke his heart because it had taken him a little longer to find the motel and the more time passed, the more she probably lost hope that he would find her in time.

"What happened? Can you move?" He immediately saw the blood trickling down her left arm and looked around for something he could use as a bandage.

"It was Todd. He followed me down to... Arkansas City. He... was possessed by a demon. I... I didn't notice." As she spoke, she tried to stand up, but she lacked the strength.

"Okay, slow down." Dean was immediately at her side, stabilizing her so she didn't collapse.

"It must have... happened when... he was out and about. The... demon wanted revenge. I killed... a friend... probably three years ago."

"Huh." Dean responded, but that wasn't rare at all. "Is he on your heels?"

Dean had taken off his shirt and balled it up and was pushing it onto her shoulder. They couldn't stay here long. Y/N had to go to a hospital.

"No. I... shot him with a devil's trap bullet." now Dean looked at her in surprise. "The weapon... you gave me."

Relief flooded his heart now. The gun had been his parting gift. You could never be sure. Still, he would send out a hunter bat signal so someone would check on Todd and make sure he was no longer a threat.

"Okay, Y/N, I'm going to pick you up now. Or do I have to do a once over?"

The young woman next to him laughed dryly. "No. My shoulder is messed up. My ankle is most likely busted. But other than that I'm fine."

Dean had to grin. There was a little glimpse of the Y/N he knew. But they didn't have much time left. He could see that she was losing her strength. So he carefully took her into his arms. Something she couldn't endure without a pained groan.

Soon she was safely seated in the front seat of the Impala. By now Dean had changed his fully drenched shirt with a spare towel he had in his trunk. He gritted his theeth, because it seemed that Y/N was pressing the towel down on her shoulder like she was holding on for dear life.

Dean slid behind the steering wheel and immediately drove off. It was oddly quiet in the car and his knuckles turned white. He glanzed over to Y/N every now and then to make sure that she was still awake. The hospital in Winfield was still a ways away, but he was determined to get there as quickly as possible.

Dean heared Y/N whimper everytime he drove over a bump on the street. He apologized everytime, too. But otherwise he did not know what to say. The silence almost killed him but time was not flying by fast enough. And then, Y/N decided to talk.

"Dean?" her weak voice bled over the engine of the Impala while she kept pressing the towel on her shoulder. "I have to tell you... something..."

"Don't speak now. You need all your energy that's left in you, sweetheart. Just stay awake, will you?"

Dean's knuckles once again became white while he was holding the steering wheel. He also increased the speed he was driving at. The hospital was not far away anymore, but she had lost a lot of blood by now and that was what really worried him.

"But I... have to tell... you." She said again, but her mind became foggy and she started to feel sleepy.

"Nothing can be that important right now. And when you're thinking of sayin' goodbye to me, quit it. Not gonna happen. So, hold on. We're almost there."

For a second he thought he'd won, buit then Y/N crushed his heart.

"I love you." her words rang in his ears, although he could not really believe it. But she then made sure her message came through. "I've been in love with you... for such as long time... now and... I just wanted you... to know that."

And with her last breath she closed her eyes, not being able to stay awake anymore. Dean's voice accompanied her into the darkness, calling out to her.

An annoying beep woke Y/N from her sleep, but waking up wasn't that easy. Her head was pounding a bit and a bright white light made it difficult for her to open her eyes. When she finally made it, she realized she was lying in a bed and was hooked up to monitors. They had made it to the hospital.

She looked around further and spotted Dean sleeping in a chair next to her bed. His head hung back a bit and his mouth was slightly open. It almost looked like he was drooling a little. How could such a strong man be so adorkably cute?

Suddenly he jumped up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When he saw that Y/N had woken up, he got up and came over to her.

"Y/N! You're awake. How are you? Do you need anything?" Inwardly he wanted to take her hand in his, but he held back.

"No, no, I..." she tried to sit up a little, but it didn't really work.

Dean helped her position the headboard high enough to jer liking. He also gave her a glass of water that she didn't actually asked for. Nevertheless, she accepted it gratefully.

"So? How about me?" Y/N asked and Dean scratched the back of his neck lightly.

"Perhaps a doctor should explain this to you." he replied, already making his way to the door.

"Wait!" she stopped Dean. "Explain it to me. Please."

How could he say 'no' to that? So he came back to her and looked at her with a crooked smile.

"You have several cuts and bruises on your body. A bruised rib and your ankle is sprained. But that will probably sort itself out over time. Your shoulder did need surgery though. Something with the spina specu... spina... spinach something."

Y/N giggled, but put her hand over her mouth so Dean wouldn't see it as he continued. "But that too could be repaired and in a few months... you should be back to your old self."

"Well, that's what I call an exciting reunion." She joked, but Dean didn't seem too keen on it.

"I could have thought of better things than taking you to the hospital covered in blood and seriously injured."

And he was serious. It would be a lie if he said that seeing her like that didn't bother him. The thoughts he'd had about her when they'd left him sitting in the waiting room. When no doctor or nurse wanted to talk to him, update him. When his heart had been gripped by an iron hand that had almost stopped him from breathing.

Hopefully he would never have to go through this again.

"I'm sorry." said Y/N with a small voice and lowered her head.

Dean balled his hand to fists and turned fully to her. "I was really afraid for you. Especially when you suddenly stopped talking in the car."

And suddenly Y/N remembered the last thing she said to Dean. Her eyes widened and she didn't have to look up to know that the elephant in the room was now literally there. Nevertheless, she suddenly felt a little nervous and couldn't say anything.

"The doc said that you need to stay a couple more days in the hospital and after that... I'll take you with me to Lebanon." Now Y/N looked up again. "We need to talk."

"Dean, I..." she started, but when she saw that Dean walked up to her to take her hand in his, she felt silent again.

"I love you, too." He then finally said and Y/N looked up at him in surprise. "And if you let me, I'll never let you out of my sight again."

A/N: That’s it. It was really fun and I hope you liked it. 😊 Let me know what you think. Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

Everything Taglist:

@lyarr24 @k-slla @nk1023 @iloveeveryoneyouramazing

[atiyasnake]

Wrote a bit @moonlight-stalker

~

Danny thought he had accounted for all the inventions they were bringing. Nothing too bad or dangerous. He was so sure. There were really no weapons. All of them were on the fritz due to him so it was actually good inventions. Like the ghost line. Shields. Spector deflectors. Along with some other goodies that Danny was rather impressed that they had built.

But then Danny saw his dad pull out something new with a glow brighter than the others just showing unsafe levels of ecto. He had no idea what it did. And he was trying to think. Except there was a click.

The next thing Danny knew something strong and hot was hitting him in his gut and launching him back. He went airborne and saw a glimpse of Mr.Wayne's horrified face before his head crashed into wood and things became harder to see.

The force that he hit the man's door was similar to that of a ghost punch and this time he couldn't phase through the door. Not only to keep from revealing himself but also just because he was in too much pain to even bother thinking about it.

Luckily the door didn't completely break, but it did burst open into the hallways, the lock of it breaking from where his back hit it. This was definitely going to bruise badly. He hated the sound of the wood splintering right by his ear along with the ringing of hitting his head.

Danny could tell he passed a few bodies that were in the hallway. Then finally he stopped when he hit the bottom of the hallway wall. The wood detailing dug uncomfortably into his back as he curled up trying to breathe through the pain.

"I just don't understand. Did you mess with the systems honey?" Maddie asked fustratedly.

Danny looked up, ignoring the bodies and faces speaking to him. He saw Maddie get closer to Jack and how they began messing with the buttons. Only raising it higher where it would hurt a human for sure. Danny rushed to push himself up, much against the hands trying to keep him still. He had to move. "Dad wai-"

He saw Jack's big finger press the button again and Danny shoved aside the body who got in front of him. Luckily, just in time to see the glow before it hit his chest and once again he crashed into the wall. This time, when his head hit, his sight got a bit jumbled in terms of dark spots.

But he could tell that Mr. Wayne finally snatched the gun away and shut it off.

_

Bruce had to say that in comparison to other meetings, this one had been going rather well. The Doctors were obviously enthusiastic about their work and were more than happy to explain in great detail how their devices worked. Even if they were a bit overeager in how they at times talked over each other and his desk was getting covered in different inventions. He was a bit concerned at some side remarks he'd have to look into later.

The other thing Bruce was interested in was Danny, the son the Fenton Doctors brought along seemed to know how to handle all the inventions with a lot more care than his parents. In fact, there were moments when he calmly and smoothly interjected with some information about the device. Oddly enough, to the surprise of his parents.

There were also his reactions to all the small comments his parents made even if Bruce didn't seem to fully understand them all.

Though, things went well until Jack took out something that looked like a gun. Bruce saw the wide-eye surprise and fear in Danny's face and he was about to say something when Jack eagerly without warning pressed the button. Then to Bruce's horror, he watched as Danny was blasted from his seat and into his door. The sound of impact he made was startling and even more so when he crashed into the hallway wall and fell into a heap onto the floor.

When Maddie began to speak, Bruce was sure he was about to hear her concern about Danny who was being surrounded by Bruce's own kids. Except, instead she began to go on about settings while Danny was pushing himself up from the floor.

Bruce saw Danny look at his parents, though dazed his gaze was so focused on the weapon Jack was messing with the setting. Bruce tried to say something and heard Danny call out but Jack simply pressed the button again.

Bruce felt his heart dropped when he saw Dick in the way of the weapon beam of energy that shot out. But a small hand pushed him aside and the glowing energy beam once again hit Danny causing his head to smack into the wall with a loud crack.

He didn't hesitate to snatch away the weapon, Bruce's 'unusual fast reflexes be dammed, he wouldn't let anyone else get hurt. Or Danny get more injured.

He had invited them for inventions and devices that could be useful, never did he ask for weapons, in fact, he was sure he had mentioned his dislike of them. He was about to begin yelling at them, playing up on his Brucie persona's distress when he heard more of a commotion in the hallway where he was sure Dick was trying to check up on Danny with the others.

"-op, wait I'm fine- just let me up!" Danny said, brushing off a hand gently pulling him up.

It was concerningly how fast he walked back into the office, ignoring everyone else and bee-lined for Bruce. Then with gentle but firm hands, Danny took the gun away from Bruce. "Uh excuse me- just need this for a sec."

Bruce watched as Danny carefully examined the gun, running his fingers along the weapon while making sure it was aimed away from everyone. It was with such surely the way he twisted small knobs, pressed down a series of pins that stuck out and then effectively shut the gun down from the looks of the glow dimming. All the while Maddie and Jack simply kept muttering to themselves about changes that needed to be made to it.

it was impressive as almost as it was off-putting the way Danny's hands didn't even shake despite the obviously singed fabric of his shirt and a part of his head looked slightly wet.

Bruce went to reach out a hand, "Danny are you alri-"

Danny turned quickly to his parents who finally moved out. "This needs recalibration and this part" - he pointed to something on the underside of the barrel- "is loose, I'll work on it when we get home."

"Perfect Dan-o!" Jack beamed and reached out to ruffle Danny's hair though before he could Danny stepped back out of reach. Jack didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, no problem." He replied before quickly ducking away and grabbing a bag. Without looking away he said, "Sorry about that Mr. Wayne, I missed this one, but everything else is in good condition." He slowly, put away the inventions littering his desk away one by one, each of them having a quick inspection from Danny before going in the bag. "Weapons on the other hand are not up for business negotiations for distributions as they still need more work, as you can see." he chuckled a tiny bit before finally looking up at Bruce.

There was a strained smile on his face and now with all the items packed away, he could see the small tremor in Danny's hands.

~

Note I wanted to put was that Danny, actually with his little inspection found out the source of the gun was a bloc ghost, a sick one that was seeking the most pure ectoplasm out of desperation and pain ( reason for the 'energy beam' going to Danny). Obv along with the pain from this and a part of Danny horrified his parents did this to a ghost even a small one like a blob ghost is horrifying to himself and he's simply trying not to break down :)

# 34 dcxdp

Danny's parents are asked to show off some of the invitations to Bruce Wayne Danny thought he had gotten to all of the weapons and made it so they wouldn't hone in on him. he thought that until he got blasted throw Mr. Wayne's offers door and almost hit his children well it's now time to do damage control for his parents

[keelt9]

Chapter 3

Masterlist

A/N: Schedule back to normal 😉

Learning through small notes.

We heard that if you write things in small notes it helps you to remember and it could be a helpful tactic of studying, that’s exactly the way they learn about each other.

“Are you smiling?” Joe blinks, raising his head clearing his throat.

The beginning of the OTAS is a couple of days ahead, still he's been immersed in all the things he can, talking and training with his teammates, letting them know he's ready to go. Also taking his free time with family and friends before being completely absorbed.

“No…I mean, yes, I'm pretty excited, that's all.” Joe tries to cover the small blue note but Ja’Marr nods while sitting in front of him.

In a blink of an eye he takes the small note from his hands and sees it. He chuckles, glancing at the red face of his friend in front of him. “A cube of ice?” 

Joe takes it back, unable to stop a smirk, seeing the cute draw of an ice cube shivering that has an onomatopoeia with the expression of <Brrr.>

“That girl huh?” Chase knows about the notes, they talk to each other through them and the fact any of them has plans to meet each other in person, soon.

“I told her one of the nicknames.” Joe found the note and the least thing he expected was the small drawing on it.

“Right.” He sat with his arms over the table. “You don't even think it's time to meet her? Like face to face.” 

Of course Joe is thinking about that but he quits at the next second, he believes this comfort and joy could be lost the second she sees him.

He found a friend that, even though she doesn't know who actually is, takes her time to write every morning to remind him to take care of himself.

Joe clicks his tongue folding the note before ordering their dinner. “She's great, that's all it matters to me.”

And it is, the way she expresses writing or drawing he just feels it, and come one, having a dog with such a cheerful mood and health it’s only more things in her favor.

“Right?” Joe asked as he threw the black frisbee.

Monet is growing chippier and happy, the puppy he met you can always find him in those black eyes but now in a bigger body and strong body. 

Monet grabs it in the air, landing with elegance on the floor running back to Joe; he pats his head after he leaves the frisbee in his hands.

“Good job.” Joe sits on the bench. “What do you think? Is it right to meet her? You know, find your owner.” 

If Joe had his eyes on him, Joe could have noticed Monet's head went straight when he mentioned her, by the time he mentioned find, Monet takes his cap running with it.

Joe believes he's just playing around until Monet keeps running far and far away.

“Ok, ok, I got it, it's a no.” Joe says when Monet stops next to a tree still a little bit far away from his hand. “Come on boy, give me that.”

Monet runs back when Joe approaches him, every time.

The gasps with the sound of paws against the rocks makes Y/N turn around, finding Monet with a black cap on his snout.

She turns around leaving the notebook on the bench, with just a few lines of the trees and the small leaves growing up in a beautiful green.

“Oh no.” Monet puts the cap next to her before taking a few sips of water from the small bowl next to her. 

Y/N grabs the cap and shakes her head. “Who?” 

Monet has this way of asking things if you’re distracted, taking something you're using before running and leaving it next to the things he wants.

“Monet!” A male voice draws her attention. “Come on buddy! I get it!”

Y/N looks at Monet who barely moves, just puts his eyes on her moving his tail. 

“Mon…” A blonde guy appears in the path wearing a pink hoodie and black pants. 

Y/N stands grabbing the hat, not before giving Monet quash eyes, he couldn't care less.

“This is yours?” Y/N extends the cap as they approach each other.

His eyes call for his attention, he has clear blue eyes.

“Yeah, thanks I'm sorry, we were playing and well…” The man takes it. “Thanks.”

She pressed her lips together. “I'm sorry Monet from time to time is a little bit naughty, just like when he was a baby.”

Joe nods, taking his cap, making his brain catch the last word. “Wait, baby?” Y/N nods. “Are you his owner?”

The fact he blinks multiple times after the second nod makes her smirk.

“I'm JB.” He's her note pawl.

She knew a long time ago, he's not a kid or a teenager, which she never expected… is a man, like the one she had in front of her eyes. 

“Oh.” Y/N shutter before speaking, moving her head one side to the other, confused and perplexed. “Am, I'm Y/N, Monet’s owner.”

The blue eyes hide when he smiles; she could swear she already has seen that tone of blue. Maybe in one of her works, or the sky but no, they’re similar but not the same.

Her phone ringing set the time to go, time to work. She turns it down, seeing Monet starts to look out for his leash. 

“Sorry, mmm, I have work to do and…” Turns around packing her things. “But it's been a pleasure, really.”

Y/N puts the blue leash on Monet collar, by the time her eyes land his wrist she remembers he mentioned he's been through a bad injury.

So, she started to search for something in her bag. “Here.” 

A warm hot pad, she didn't realise when or why she bought it, but by the moment she arrives home with a couple of hot pads knows who it will belong to.

Joe looks utterly surprised for the way he carefully grabs it and smirks. “Put in the microwave and just relax your wrist over it and that's all.”

Y/N smiles. “Muscles relax.”

“Sounds easy.” Joe giggles.

“And it is really helpful.” Y/N closes her bag ready to go. “And before I forget, Monet won't come for a week.”

He raises his eyes right to hers. “He has an appointment with his vet, am, he will be neutered, prevent before regret.” 

Monet barks, making her giggle. “I know, you're already cursing me for that.” 

“Is he going to be ok?” Joe asked with concerned eyes.

“Yeah, don't worry, it's a simple process, by the end of the next week, he will be back.” Y/N pats his head.

“Can I help you with something?” The word of Ja’Marr about sounds expensive starts to hit him one more time.

Y/N shakes her head. “Just be here to keep playing with my dog.”

“Count with that.” Y/N chuckles before finally leaving.

“Bye JB.” Joe waves his hands before rubbing Monet's head.

“See you soon buddy.” The reaction of Money for licking his hand softly as the fact he didn't wipe was enough to move something in her heart.

That night, laying in her bed with Monet beds at her side breathing in peacefully, that memory brings a soft smile on her face before sleep.

“Rewind, one thing at the time.” Savannah said for Y/N repeated the details about how JB looks, typing in her phone.

She tells her everything she could remember trying to not miss any detail; the physical thing Savannah got it, still the fact she describes his laugh with a soft smile on her face, that makes her suspect. 

After she ends, Savannah raises her phone fearing her answer. “Is he?” 

“Yeah!” She walks with her until the door of her house. “You're good.”

Y/N sees the quivering in her nod making her narrow her eyes, there is something else.

“You already know him.” Savannah sometimes hates how easily Y/N reads her.

“Well, a lot of people know him.” Savannah takes her scarf hanging in it next to the door. “Nora, I'm here!”

Nora goes down running to the kitchen without expecting there will be already eyes on her arrival.

“You're kidding!”

Nora gulps when she sees Y/N turning around looking at her with a puzzled face. 

Joe was simply speechless when he saw her, just a second peer at her, combined with the word baby, and the fact she has a bandanna over her head, avoiding her hair falling over her face.

He ran out of words.

It was until she mentioned the vet thing that Chase words back hunting him and his lack of help.  Still she only asks that keep playing with her dog. 

By the time she gets lost among the trees he smirks seeing the hot pad in his hands. A warm touch.

Just like she said Monet didn't come for a week, but the next morning after his week off Monet goes a little bit slower than usual but happy and healthier.

“Hey!” Joe pats his head but Monet carefully takes things slowly. “Easy boy, easy, you just get through an important process.”

Monet laid down slowly, but clearly disturbed for the cone around his neck. “Let me see what you bring.”

Nothing around his collar, searching inside of his cone it’s kind of silly still he did it and he found nothing.

“Did it fall?” Monet gasps but he just laid down observing the blue sky.

No, it definitely doesn't.

It's been two weeks since any notes came along with Monet, Joe tried to go where Y/N is but every time he changes his mind at the last minute walking back to the bench where Monet refuses to walk away.

It seems for him it's also a bad idea.

“Joe! Easy man, it's training.” Yoshi claims after Joe throws a dime with more strength than usual making him almost lose his breath.

“Sorry, sorry.” Yoshi observes Joe one more time. It's weird he lost his focus in the middle of the practice. But, today, it's the third time since OTAS begins that Joe leaves breathless to more than one guy.

Yoshi like the others let it pass, probably fully focused on and thrilled for the season begins.

By the time the day ends Joe found Ja'Marr in the locker room, he isn't practicing but takes his time to be around the guys.

“Yoshi told me you left him breathless.” Chase couldn't avoid giggling when he told him in detail the dime rich to his stomach.

Joe scoffs but barely smiles. “I got distracted.”

“Spotted girl problems?” Joe bluffs, closing his locker giving him no answer. “Take it easy Joe. After all, you said you care about the dog.”

“I thought she could be a good friend, that's all.” Chase recognizes that, shoulders down, biting lip and fist tight.

Joe has created a soft spot for her, however it could be a one sided feeling.

“Anyway see you later buddy, I need a break.” They tingle their pink fingers before leaving.

Destiny has its particular ways of showing a path, it could be an object, a cloud, a soft breeze, a dog or whatever that crosses in front of you, you just have to pay attention to the details…

Or the street.

Joe was about to pass the library when he recognised the girl coming out, Nora; immersed in her phone, headphones and barely paying attention to her surroundings just when she's about to cross the street.

One block for her destiny a fancy car gets in her way. 

Just about to curse while she's taking her headphones, she realizes who's in the driver seat.

“Joe! Hi!” Joe couldn't help, he needs to now.

“Going somewhere?” Nora shakes her head. 

“Bus stop, I'm going home.” Joe fakes think like in his mind a thousand of answers are already formulated.

“I can give you a ride, it's ok.” Nora moves her head side to side, quivering.

Her sister was pretty clear even in between lines, she hasn't anything against Joe, just he's a person who lives in a totally different world and she must be cautious.

“Hmm…” Savannah mentions she knew it. “Getting me close is enough, thank you.”

The way she grips her bag is a sign that she’s holding back for not talking, one question and the words will flow like a river in a storm.

Joe noticed when they stopped in a red light. “I saw Mone, he’s pretty well after his neuter.” 

Nora nods. “Yeah, Y/N is meticulous with him, he never escapes from her eyes.”

“I can imagine, it’s been a while since I didn’t hear about her, she has a lot of work?” Nora bites her lip trying to distract in her phone. 

“No.” But she’s curious and a little bit chatty so she breaks after seeing the text of Y/N on her screen.

 >What do you want for dessert?

She’s coming for dinner with hers.

“Ok, I give up.” Nora closes her eyes praying for don’t get scolded… too soon. “Listen Joe, I know about the notes, and for sure I mustn't get involved but you’re a nice guy so…”

Joe giggles. “It’s ok, I’m pretty sure she’s shy and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I just wonder how she is.”

Nora scoffs. “Believe me Joe, Y/N is far away from being shy. She's mistrustful as hell plus she feels weird around people she doesn’t know.” 

Nora remembers the talk she heard between Savannah and Y/N. 

“She feels kind of awkward knowing you like your privacy and she invades with the notes, so she chose to keep at the out of, just letting Monte back like always.” Joe sees the path the GPS marks after Nora types her address.

“How do you know that?” He smiles, turning to the left where the residential zone is.

Nora scratches her head. “Oh, I… I was eavesdropping.” Joe laughs. “I didn’t mean it! Y/N came for her birthday two days ago and she and my sister were talking as they served the coffee and I wanted more water, so I accidently heard it.”

“It was her birthday?!” Joe is overreacting; he knows that but can’t help it.

Nora hits her forehead, she definitely speaks too much, seeing the familiar houses is her cue to go. “Here, you can leave me here.” 

The GPS indicates two more blocks. “Believe me Joe, if my sister sees this car and asks, she definitely knows I said more than I should.” 

Joe parks at his left, observing Nora open the door. “Hey, any advice?”

Nora can feel it, but that same feeling tends to go wrong. “Be you.” Nora sees the car of Y/N going straight forward, and she arrives. “Damn it! I have to go Joe, thank you!”

The spring is definitely here, you can see the big and green leaves in the trees and the fact Y/N brings a new canva with her, a new season.

“Ok, remember, we are only here for a short time, I have work to do.” Y/N said, taking the leash of Monet leaving it on the bench where she sits.

But Monet walks around sniffing until he finds the place where the sweet scene came; Y/N approaches seeing a small white box with a pink note on the top of it.

“You found it!” The voice of the Officer Lynch makes Y/N jump. “I've been keeping an eye before going home.”

“This is for me?” Y/N lifts the box. 

Officer Lynch grabs his bag next to the ree. “It’s for Monet’s friend.” Y/N tilt her head. “Have a good day Y/N, see you tomorrow.”

Y/N waves her hand before taking the note with a curious dog sitting in front of her. “What?” Monet barks at her. “Agh! Come on Monet!” But the dogs are similar to their owners.

Monet is so stubborn, he stands pushing the box. “You’re so wayward, know that.”

Y/N opens the box first, brownies, making her smirks. Then the small pink note.

 >I heard it was your birthday, happy birthday! 

  P.D You can share it with your friends, too much sugar.

The chocolate topic, she writes she loves and he remembers it.

“Is she even the one who brings Monet?” Joe bites his nails. “You definitely should think of that in the first place, Joe.”

Joe acts by instinct he knows that; just pass late night by his favorite bakery shop bought them, write the note early and the morning and procure leave it before Y/N arrives where she used to sit, with the need help of Officer Lynch.

What he didn't even think about was the small chance like she always tends to do when she had a lot of work, someone else takes Monte to the park.

The loud sniffing of Monet brings him back to the earth, Monet laid his head on Joe’s lap and Joe noticed he didn't bring the frisbee. 

“Hey buddy, where is the frisbee?” Joe kissed the top of his head. 

“I thought you don’t mind a little change of plans.” Joe hears his neck crack from turning around so quickly. Y/N is standing behind with two cups and the white box he left. 

Casually sits next to him. “I’m sorry for acting awkward it’s… Probably you want your privacy and I get involved with the notes, I don’t have any intention to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Nora has a good memory and ear. 

“But this definitely lets me know you’re not, right?” Y/N lifts the note, making Joe smirks

“We can say that.” Y/N nods, extending her hand. 

“Friends?” Monet is sitting observing the scene, especially the little bag his owner has in her bag. 

Joe smiles, seeing her hand with a couple of paper cuts, taking it and shaking it. “Friends.”

Y/N smiles. “Well, now share this with me, otherwise I have a chocolate coma.” Joe points to Monet. “Oh, I have his snack in my bag, don’t worry.”

Joe takes the cups and the box so she can take the snacks and give it one. “Oh, this is mine.” She takes the right cup. “That is a weird protein milkshake. I bought it from Mrs. Howk, tell me you tend to bring your cups.”

That’s why Monet hasn’t come, she’s buying drinks. 

“Am I that weird?” Y/N said, taking a sip of her coffee.

“NO! Why did you say that?” Joe giggles while taking a sip too, yes, just the one he orders. 

Monet laid in front of them letting the soft breeze and the sound of birds help him to rest, for today, any game is required. 

“You look at me with those eyes.” Joe shakes his head seeing to the blue sky he didn't notice but Y/N smiles at him softly tilting her head. 

He has pretty clear blue sky eyes, similar to the ocean.

[novashelby]

Pink Panties-Tommy Shelby x Reader

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: dirty talk, dubcon, teasing, spanking, panty obsession, sniffing said panties, fantasizing about said panties, breath play. Summary: Tommy Shelby's cute maid gets herself into some trouble, and well, he wants to uphold his reputation.

Please enjoy! Remember to comment and reblog. Is this a good comeback? It was meant to be a drabble about spanking. A cute drabble about spanking.....(And thank you strangergraphics for the divider).

He was a particular man as he enjoyed things neat and in order, but he more often than not, was not a cruel man to work for. To be a maid or nanny in the Shelby household was sort of a privilege on the ladder of household jobs. She was a simple maid who clocked in and then clocked out, and no one, but Francis had ever paid attention to her. Though, the occasional time that she’d get a glimpse of the man, he’d offer a nod of kindness and politely tell her to have a good day. She wasn’t as loud as Maisy, as outgoing as Clara, and certainly wasn’t as funny as Sandra. Many of the guests coming in and out paid attention to them, offering little quips of flirting. But her? She preferred to move quietly with her broom through the shadows. 

She took her little bucket with soapy water and the mop, turning his office doorknob with her elbow. Grunting as she pushed open the door with her bottom, the person inside looked up, amused how she struggled. “Shoot, shoot, shoot,” she hissed, water droplets splashing from the bucket. Throwing down the mop, the room echoed with a little boink. 

Tommy slid back down in the chair, feet propped on the desk and smoke perched between his fingers. He watched as she worked for a while, humming, completely oblivious to his presence. But he wasn’t oblivious to hers. She definitely wasn’t as loud as Maisy, outgoing as Clara, and annoying as Sandra, he thought, but she was certainly, in his opinion, the prettiest. The most delicate, the quietest, and the most womanly. Not womanly as physically, but that she radiated a certain femininity modern day ladies lacked. In fact, out of all his girls, she was perhaps the one with the most inquiries from single men. Often partners of his. But none of them would do her justice. 

His eyes followed the curve of her body as she bent over to move an ottoman. A breath hitched, getting stuck in his throat. Kicking his feet off the desk, he slowly got up and moved over. She was attempting to move an iron sculpture, far too heavy for her. Slow, taunting strides, he moved closer until he could smell her perfume. “Let me help you,” he said, but when his hand went to touch her shoulder, she immediately swirled around with a look of horror on her face.

Her heart dropped. She was alone just two minutes ago. Who? How? When? Gripping the wet mop tightly, she let out a loud shriek. The mop at that point turned into a very reliable weapon as she raised in and whacked it across his face. Tommy stumbled back, hand feeling the wetness on his cheek. “Fookin’ ‘ell!” he cursed, putting his hand up.

When her breathing eased and her heart calmed, she took a deep breath, stick the mop in the bucket. When she realized who she hit, her face went ghostly pale. “Mr. Shelby,” she whispered, seeing not only her job, but also her life flash before eyes. Immediately, she went for her rag, dabbing along his wet cheek. Fretting, she kept repeating, “oh, I’m so, so, so sorry…I just, I had…You just…Mr. Shelby, you’re never in your office at this time.”

Sighing, he moved away a bit, softly grabbing her hand. “It’s alright, it’s alright. Just be more careful with that thing, eh?” He pointed to the mop and her eyes followed before looking back at him. “It’s dangerous, I suppose.” It took her a moment to hear the smile in his voice. When she finally understood his tone, she smiled. “I was going to help you move that thing.”

“The sculpture?” she asked, kicking at it. It was a god-awful fugly thing. Rich people often bought ugly things. “I still don’t know what it is-”

“Me either,” he agreed, handing his wet coat on the rack and loosening his shirt. “But it came with the house and I have no energy for interior design. I’m not fashionable-”

“I think you are,” she let out, her cheeks going red. She motioned to his clothing before sighing. 

“And to think I was about to give you a punishment,” he teased, pinching at her chin. He winked, enjoying the way her face reddened at anything. She flinched back slightly, her face skewing, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. “But then you complimented me.” 

She gave a soft acknowledgement of amusement and grabbed the bucket, bringing it to the farthest corner of the room. She felt his eyes linger on her before she broke the small ounce of silence by saying something that surprised her. “I heard you were good with punishments, Mr. Shelby.” 

His brows arched before he nodded, saying in his smooth, quiet voice that reeked of confidence, “oh, yes. I can be very good at administering punishments.” She whacked the mop against the floor before dragging it around in circles, watching the suds bubble and pop. He walked closer, making sure not to step on the wet bits. “What have you heard of these punishments?” He pulled up a chair and draped one leg over the other.

Without looking at him, she said, “girls like to talk, Mr. Shelby-”

“Do they? And,” his voice dragged off as his hand motioned for her to continue. “And what exactly, y’know, ah, what exactly are these words they speak? This talk.”

Her smile widened. “Just gossip, I’m sure. Right, Mr. Shelby?” Her eyes fluttered to him. “All the things they say about you. Surely, there is no reason to believe any of it-”

“Oh, but perhaps there is some truth. All gossip starts with the truth, doesn't it, eh? What do you girls talk about in your bed chambers?” Oh, so many things. The three of them chatted constantly about the Shelby men. All night sometimes. How handsome he was, how sexy that other one was. What they believe they’d be good at in bed and what they’d be bad at. She, however, was more of a listener. Sometimes they’d say things like Mr. Shelby likes to use a heavy hand when a maid acts up. They’d all sing their song, claiming his hand has spanked their bottom. But she doubted it. 

“That you like to keep your maids in check-”

“And do I? Do you feel like I keep you in check-”

“Not anymore or less than any other boss, Mr. Shelby,” she said, walking around him to get a rag. “But they do say that you enjoy a heavy hand against a lady’s bottom. That when they act out, you have no quips or quarrels about giving a good spanking.” Tommy kept his composure, but on the inside he felt quite…shocked. They said that? That he spanks his maids. Well, the thoughts may have circled his mind, he never once spanked a maid. 

He grinned in amusement, grabbing a new cigarette before deciding against it, tucking it away. “And you believe such things?”

“You said it yourself, Mr. Shelby, all gossip must have some origin of truth.”

“And you think that is what I should give you right now? A spanking?”

She froze, feeling the heat return to her cheeks. She rushed back around the chair and looked at him. Scrambling for words, she was fighting for her dignity. “No, no, no! N-no! I was just…I didn’t…Why would I want a spanking? You’re the one who scared me! I was simply acting on self defense-”

“So you want to give me a spanking-”

“No! Mr. Shelby, nobody is giving anyone a spanking-”

“No?” he snorted, grinning, quite enjoying the flustered look on her face. “And you, dear, think you aren’t deserving of one?”

In a tone of finality, she stated, “no, I do not want a spanking-”

“I didn’t ask that,” he said, casually, shaking his head. “I asked whether or not you thought you were deserving of one. Now!” He grunted, getting from the chair, pushing it back. The room echoed with a creak. Slow strides, he cornered her against a book again. Her heart beat bounded like a drum in her chest. Tommy leaned in, pinching her chin. “You wouldn’t let me ruin my reputation, now, would you?”

“Mr. Shelby,” she let out, placing her hands against his chest. His hands reached up and held them, squeezing lightly.  

“And you can go back to your little maid friends. Tell them all about how Mr. Shelby spanked you.” He walked backwards, her hands still in his as he guided them both. “Now, are you more of an over the desk type of girl or over daddy’s lap kinda naughty, eh?” Tommy answered for her as she kept opening her mouth to speak, but it only came out as choked whispers. He twirled her around and pushed her against his desk. Her hands braced herself as he pressed his body against her back. 

“This is hardly necessary,” she whined out, but didn’t fight, even spreading her legs just a tad. 

“Oh, but it is,” he grinned. “Because you and I both know that you have been a naughty girl, and most importantly, Mr. Shelby believes in upholding certain notions and ideas about himself, especially those that keep his girls in line.” It had been so long since a man touched her so closely and intimately. Her body reacted almost in a deprived, needy, desperate way. The young maid wasn’t going to argue, mumbling a surprised yes, sir under her breath. “Under or over?” She answered for him, grappling with her skirts which he ever so kindly placed over her arched back. His fingers hooked under the waistband of her tights and pulled down. 

“Shit.” Her body shuddered, feeling the cool breeze hit her back. The way his fingers felt, just teasing at her skin as he pulled down her layers, sent goosebumps over her body. 

“Language,” he  whispered, in deep thought, admiring the curves he often fantasized about. How many men pulled down her underwear before him? It was always the quiet ones that surprised him. The ones that played innocent and unknowing were the ones with the deepest, dirtiest desires. She was no different, and he knew by the time she was done working at Arrow house, he was going to pull every last fantasy from her brain. “It’s like you knew that you were going to be a naughty girl today.” His fingers traced lines along her pretty pink knickers. “With naughty lace trimming. Who was to see these today if not me, eh?”

She looked back at him, doe like eyes. “No one-”

“I think you’re a little lying slut,” he said, watching her choke on his words. “That doesn’t mind that her boss is going to take these little panties and keep them-what? Don’t look so shocked.” Slowly, tauntingly, he pulled down her panties. “And what I’ll do with these,” he trailed off, pulling them off one foot and then the other. “Is I’ll keep them for my naughty self and start a whole new reputation for myself-”

“And you’ll-”

He sent a warning glare her way, his hand raised only to spank it down with a harsh slap. She cried out as the room echoed with a lightning sharp crack. “Shut up,” he told her, leaning over her body. Grinning, he grabbed her quivering jaw with one hand as he brought her panties to her face. “And what I’ll do, while my wife sleeps next to me, is I’ll pull out my cock. Give it a few good tugs until it’s nice and hard to the thought of you.” She let out a little moan, her ass pressing up against his groin, feeling the hardness. “And you can tell Clara, Sandra, Maisy, whatever the fuck their names are…that out of all of them, Mr. Shelby fantasizes about you-”

Closing her eyes, she whimpered out, “and my panties-”

Two fingers slipped in her mouth, pressing down her tongue. “I told you to shut the fuck up,” he grunted, positioning himself so that his knee could rub up between her legs. Her eyes rolled back as she moaned, a stream of drool pooling on his desk. It’d been to fucking long because just by his taunting, she felt herself swell with pleasure. His fingers pushed deeper, enjoying the sounds of her gags. “And when I am nice and hard that pre-cum is dripping, I’ll take your cute panties and wrap them around my cock.” His mouth went real close to her ears, peppering kisses, tickling her with teasing chuckles. “I’ll rub them up and down, thinking about how they touched your wet, needy cunt.” He removed his fingers from her mouth, along her to gulp up deep breaths. “Sloppy,” he commented, rubbing the drool all over her lips. 

“Mr. Shelby-”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, the prettiest, but the stupidest, eh?” His hand raised again landing down on her ass with an even harder spank. She cried out, fingers scratching at his desk. It left a pretty red mark. “I said keep that mouth shut!” His hand covered her mouth, watching her squirm and wiggle. Her face going nice and red, he grinned, pinching her nose. Panicked, she whined, thrashing and trying to pull away. But it felt so good. So fucking good to be right under his control. He allowed her breath as he continued on. “And while she sleeps right next to me, I keep stroking my cock, softly moaning your name as I stain these pretty panties white.�� She opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly slapped her cheek. “I’m not fucking done yet...and I walk myself to the bedroom where you’re sleeping, and I make you wear them-you can even show your little friends how Mr. Shelby adores you so much more than them.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss against her wet, pouty lips. When he pulled away, she inched forward, chasing after them. “Good girl,” he complimented, meeting her. Their lips moved together as he teased at her bottom lip; licking and nibbling. Her head was swirling with confusion, arousal, and above all, desperation while his right hand rubbed down her back, grabbing her ass. “Now, you go and finish my floors. I have business to attend to.”

“B-but-”

“Shhh,” he hummed, pulling away. He tucked her panties away and caressed her face. “Good girl.” 

[godmadeaterribleerror]

I've Never Been Higher

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, established realtionship, the tiniest amount of fluff and angst, just pure, raw smut (fingering, p in v sex, choking)

Summary/Warnings: Request from an anon! After you get drunk and expose your secret relationship with Ben, you know there will be consequences. Good thing they seem to be the fun kind.

Author's Note: I'm putting this one in the 60s-ish. It is very horny. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5k

This is a disaster. 

You barely drink. It takes half a bar to get you drunk at all. You rarely have the patience or time to get to buzzed, let alone wasted. 

Stumbling and tripping over your heels and words, the world is vibrant and bright but also a little hazy—like watching it through a thin, shimmering layer of fog—and loose-lipped, giggly, wasted.

Curled up in a booth with your normal, non-supe friends and whispering about nothing wasted. The room is spinning and turning but you’re too engrossed in how funny the word squirrels sounds wasted. One of your friends always keeping a hand on your shoulder, or an arm around your body, because one wrong ditzy smile or mention of him, and you’ll start to float upwards fucking wasted.

And they know that.

And you’d been really drunk. It was the weekend, and it was a celebration of something—you didn’t really remember what—and you’d been so fucking drunk, so when one of your friends asked how’s Ben with a teasing grin, you’d almost ascended just from the sound of his name.

You think you said he was perfect. Actually, you know you said he was perfect. Despite the entire night being hidden behind a shifting curtain of your drunken brain, you know exactly what you’d said about Ben, word for word.

Because it’s printed on the front page of the news. A massive quote of Soldier Boy settles down with B-list Hero? In big, black letters, accompanied by a very handsome picture of Ben, and a smaller, poorly lit photo of you. 

An inside source tells us that, last night in uptown Manhattan, Vought’s own second list super-heroine Hurricane revealed that she and Soldier Boy have been going steady for over a year, and proved herself to be quite smitten with American’s Son. 

You’d always hated that title for him. Ben was not America’s Son. He was more in line with America’s very grumpy father, and you were not a second list hero. You had the third highest save rate, and you’d only been at Vought for two years. You’d caught up with everyone in the first three months, and surpassed the rest by the end of the summer. You’d been warring back and forth with Liberty—the snide, conniving, weirdly possessive over Ben and hateful bitch—for second place for about a year now.

If fact, if you counted non-criminal saves—aiding people with their daily troubles, helping people who were in crisis, offering aid to charities and foundations—you were only a dozen or so behind Ben.

He says that’s why he noticed you. He says he’d seen how close you were creeping up behind him after only a year, how fast the gap between him and second place was closing, and he’d been furious but intrigued. Then he’d always say that he went to find you to snap that you should calm the fuck down and stop acting like you own this place, but you’d been so damn beautiful he’d forgotten how to breathe. 

“I’d known you’d be mine right fucking there.” He’d grumble, his lips latched to your neck and his arms caging you against the wall. “I see a lot of hot fucking women, baby, but you’re the only one who’s made me look twice.”

You’d always giggle, run your hands through his hair, and try not smile like too much of an idiot into the air. “You know, you can’t be positive I didn’t just steal the air out of your lung on-“

Ben would swallow your words with a deep, rough kiss, shove his knee between your thighs, and chuckle at your high whine.

“I’m real damn sure,” he’d grunt your name, guiding you to grind against him as he spoke. “Because that shit doesn’t work on me, doll, and you fucking know it.”

“I-“ You’d gasp, pulling at his hair and squirming in his grip. “You’re getting cocky again-“

“You fucking love it.”

God, you did. You loved him. He’s full of shit, and you know he’s full of shit—he hadn’t been awestruck by you, he’d marched up to you, told you that you were a fucking problem, and then walked away—but you don’t love him any less for it. If anything, you love him more. He’s honest. You’ve never seen him be anything but himself, and it was a little like a sanctuary. Ben would tell you if you were being dramatic about something if you were in the wrong, or he’d threaten to chop off the balls of whoever had hurt you with such a violent fervor in his eyes if he knew you were right.

You feel bad a little for whoever one day pisses you off enough to let Ben loose on them. 

He’d make sure your ideas were heard and implemented, when nobody was listening to you, then point at you when someone congratulated him on it and snap it was her fucking idea, you pussy-faced cock gobbler. Thank the lady then keep fucking working.

He’d bring you silent gifts every time he stepped over the threshold of your apartment. He’d fuck you like an animal in your bedroom, then hold you in the dark like you were something priceless. He’d put a hand on your thigh under the table, when meetings got too heated and you were in danger of quite literally flying at some dumbass who thought he was smarter than you.

And he did keep you secret, but you’d never protested. It had been your idea to begin with, and maybe you’d expected him to one day grunt at you that this dumb fucking secret shit is over, you’re my date to the movie tomorrow night, but he never had.

You’d go to all the red carpets separately, he’d track you down in the bathroom and fuck you on the sink—muttering low, dirty praise about how good you were taking him, how everyone was going to be able to fucking smell his cum filling you up, how you looked so fucking gorgeous in that dress and you were trying to damn kill him—before you parted ways and acted like co-workers for the rest of the night, right up until he showed up at your apartment as the after party settled down.

And you could’ve had him like that for a million years. If it was all he could give you, you’d take it and worship it and never try to make him more than he was. He was already, arguably, too much. But he was yours. He didn’t fuck other women—he hardly even looked at them—and it had never mattered what the vultures of the press said, you’d known Ben was yours, and that was all that mattered.

But now you’re staring at the paper, re-reading the article over and over like the words could suddenly change and nothing would be wrong, and for the first time, you’re afraid.

Not of Ben. Never of Ben. 

Of how you’re going to lose him. 

Because you’d been explicit. Vulgar. Incredibly detailed in ways you never were while sober.

Hurricane described in great deal her alleged sex life with the Golden Hero, claiming him to be a firm but generous lover, using a multitude of words not suited for publication. Our source details how she’d claimed that she reaches climax about “four times a night,” and that she wants to “marry his and have all his stupid, giant babies.” Multiple times throughout the conversation, Hurricane called Solider Boy the “best thing that ever happened to her,” and said she’d “jump off a cliff if he asked her to.”

If these claims are true, should the public prepare for an upcoming great American wedding? Or is Hurricane speaking of a one-sided obsession? Solider Boy has rarely been seen in public with the air-powered supe, and there is no evidence but her alleged word that they are anything more than co-workers. If Hurricane is lying-

You have to stop reading there, or you might choke on your own spit and fear. You’re not lying. It’s not alleged, it’s real and you meant every word of it, but Ben wasn’t supposed to know that. He was supposed to take the lead about where you went, and you were supposed to trail in his wake, admiring the way his skin seemed to sometimes be golden, and bask in how when he looked at you there seemed be something flaring and catching light in his eyes that was never there for anyone else.

You mean something to him. You know he sees you as more than a body. Ben calls you his girl, and his jaw twitches when a Vought suit or lower-level hero tries to flirt with you, and he has all the money in the world but he touches you like you’re the most valuable thing in his life.

You’re not sure how you’re going to face this. You have to face this—it’s the front fucking page, and it’s a mess, and you’re solely responsible—but you don’t want to. You want to fly up to space and never come down, or sink into the floor, or seal all the doors and windows and never leave.

And you know none of that would work. Ben would launch himself after you and you’d slam into his gravity because you didn’t know how not to. He’d pull you up from your self-inflicted grave without breaking a sweat. He’d kick and pry the doors open no matter how tight you sealed them, crashing into your apartment with an animalistic look in his eyes, his arms flexing and attention all on you, before picking you up and cradling you without a word because he was bad at them, but he did care. 

Ben really did care.

And you can’t face him.

But you have to go to work.

And you hope you’ll just vanish off the face of the earth before you can enter the building, but the universe doesn’t seem to like you all that much today, so instead you’re barely a foot through the door before Legend his standing in front of you, brows raised and voice firm.

“Hurricane.”

“I, uh,” You swallow. “Yeah. Hi.”

His face doesn’t even move an inch. “I believe we need to talk, girl.”

“Do we?” Your voice is barely a squeak, and you really wish everyone would stop fucking looking at you. “I don’t- um- Look, I swear I didn’t-“

“My office.” Legend snaps. “Now.”

All you can do is nod and shuffle behind him, feeling a little like a child in trouble. You can feel all their eyes, almost hear the judgmental expressions and thoughts, the bitter and withering fears you’d been harboring in your chest since Ben asked you out—although it was more like he said you were smoking hot and he wanted to fuck you, you’d told him he’d need to try harder than that, and then the next day he’d shown up with more roses than you could hold in your hands and said you were hot, and interesting, and he wanted to fuck you put he wasn’t going to do it until you were begging him for it—coming to life in a loud and suffocating cloud around you.

You know he’s out of your league. Ben’s out of everyone’s league. He’s more than a god, he’s something primordial that crawled out of the earth just to guard it with his whole fucking existence.

And when you sit in Legend’s office, it feels even more certain that this is the end of more than just the love of your life. It’s so drastic, how much higher and better Ben is than you are, that there’s no way they’ll allow you to just say he’s yours. The public would never want him to be yours, because they can see it too. Everyone can see how unworthy you are-

“You get three minute to explain yourself.” Legend mutters, settling in his big, velvet chair, spinning a pen in his hands.  “But you better have a top of the line reason for fucking around and claimin’ all that, or we’re going to be revisiting your tenure here. Go.”

Every breath you take is thin in your lungs. You need to speak, but no words are coming out. His chair is a throne, and the pen is an executioner’s axe, and you whole life is on a thread that depends on you speaking, but you can’t-

“I-“

There’s a crashing sound outside, a roar that sound like a lion or dragon or avenging angel, and Legend looks away from you with a shocked expression—which for him, means genuine interest flashing in his gaze and a twitch near his eyes—as Ben crashes through the door.

“Mr. Solider Boy, sir-“ Legend’s receptionist is scrambling behind him, her voice high and frantic. “You- He’s in a meeting- You’re not supposed-“

“Shut the fuck up, Mary.” Ben grunts, and the receptionist’s snaps closed. You mouth think she’s shocked he knows her name. “And close the damn door, Legend and I need to have a fucking chat.”

You swallow, starting to push to your feet, but Ben’s faster. His hands grasp your shoulders, pushing you back down into your chair, and they rest there as he glowers at Legend.

“Ben,” Legend sighs. “I told you we’d be meeting later-“

“And I told you there’s no way you’re talking to my girl without me there,” Ben hisses, his hands squeezing on your shoulders, and you’re a little dizzy.

His girl. 

Not a secret, but still Ben’s girl.

And suddenly nothing really feels all that faraway or terrifying at all. 

“I understand this is distressing for all of us-“

“Oh, fuck off and eat my fucking ass,” Ben rolls his eyes, leaning slightly over your body as he leers at Legend. He’s really warm. “You don’t know what in goddamn Christ you’re talking about, Legend, and you’re being a pussy fucking idiot-“

“Ben-“

“I said fuck off.” He growls your name, and it’s not at you. It’s like a wolf snarling and snapping at a threat to their pack. “She didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong, and you’re going to make her give herself a fucking aneurysm, so calm the fuck down and listen when I tell you to just fucking drop it, or I’ll carve your brain out of your skull and fucking feed it to you.”

Legend doesn’t flinch. He only tilts his head, scanning over Ben with an odd expression. “What have you been offered, Solider Boy, to defend her-“

Ben scoffs. “I can’t be fucking bribed, you dick-headed asswhore, I goddamn love this woman-“

It hits you like a freight train. Explosive and fast and brutal, irreversibly changing everything in your body until it all just a crumpled pile of Ben.

“You-“ Your voice is hoarse, and you lean back to look at him with wide eyes. “You love me?“

“Of course I fucking love you, shut up and-“ he grabs your hand, pinning it to the chair. The world had gotten so light, and you’d started to float, and Ben was keeping you there. With him. And he loved you. “Don’t lose your damn mind. Let me save your fucking job-“

“I love you too,” you whisper, and that manages to air its way through his fury.

“I know that. Stop flying.” Ben turns back to Legend, and you think he’s somehow taller. “You fire her, you lose me.” 

That makes Legend’s face twitch again, and his eyes dart to you for only a second. You’ve seen that expression before, during meetings or negotiations that weren’t quite going his way.

He weighing his options. Trying to work out if Ben is bluffing.

Legend should know better.

Ben doesn’t bluff.

His hand still squeezing with carefully measured pressure on your shoulder, and his gaze is firm, and he’s not a liar. Ben has many, many vices—fractured and chipped and defunct parts of him you love just as much as the shining titanium that makes up the rest of him—but lying is not one of them.

If anything, Ben only ever doubles down.

“Don’t be a damn idiot,” he drawls, his words casual but his gaze on Legend a silent promise of violence. “The people fucking love it. They love her. She scores higher points with younger demos, and America loves love. They’ll love us. so I don’t know why you’re being such a pussy-brained motherfucker, but she is the best goddamn thing to happen to this company in fucking years.”

You think you’re going to ascend. That all the dizzying light and joy that Ben always silently plants in your body is going into bloom and rocketing up to the sun with his every word, and you have no choice but to rise up to that high, clouded but bright heaven with them. It’s a place born of Ben’s love. It hazy, pastel clouds, but they’re sturdier and more certain than anything else has ever been. You could build something here, known it would never crumble because Ben really, truly loves you. Even Legend’s skeptical expression and cool words can’t drag you down from down this.

And what they trigger only launches you further upwards. 

“They’ll have to actually believe it,” Legend snips. “If we are going to allow this-“ 

Ben’s hand glide over your throat to grab your chin, he tips your head back, and kisses you. Deep and rough and heavy. The type of kiss he’s only ever given you behind a locked door, where he’s folding himself over you and invading your every sense, because now you’re pliant and moaning, and everything is Ben. Reaching up to try and tug on his hair and urge him further, grabbing his forearm for balance despite sitting down, making a strangled sound that’s meant to be his name when he presses his tongue down your throat-

He pulls back, presses a smaller, dangerously sweet kiss to your brow, and looks back to Legend. 

“That fucking believable enough?” 

You’d like to see Legend’s expression, but your gaze is trapped on Ben. His hand is still on your chin, grip relaxed as his thumb trails over your lower lip—you’re not sure he knows he’s doing that—and you can see the exact place on his jaw that you want to try and suck a mark on, even if it’s never worked before. His brows are raised in a challenging question as he stares down Legend, and his hair looks soft, and when he licks his lips slightly it sets off a million little sparks in your lower stomach-

“Ben.” You whisper, and he looks down at you with a frown. 

“Wha-“

“Please.” You squeeze his arm, and he tenses behind you. “I- Please.”

A smirk creeps over his lips, and you think someone coughs, but they’re not Ben so it doesn’t really matter. 

“You need me right now, sweet girl? Can’t even fucking wait, need me to fucking ruin you in the goddamn office-“

“I- You-” you squirm in your chair, reaching up to try and tug him back down to your level. “Stop being mean-“

He chuckles, but doesn’t move an inch. “You know I’m not being mean. You’ve seen me be fucking mean,” he drawls your name, and if he doesn’t move soon, you’re going to explode. “I’m just waiting for you to beg me fucking properly-“

“Please, Ben, please-“

“Please what.”

You’re past dignity, or trying to spar back and forth with him on this. He said he loves you. He said it, then kissed you like that, and nothing in the world is more important than feeling him all around you and over you and in you-

“Fuck me, Ben, please-“

There’s that same cough again, but you don’t really hear it. You can’t really hear anything but your heartbeat in your ears as Ben’s face splits into a wide, almost feral grin, and you won.

He slams his mouth back down to yours, grabbing you by the waist in a second and hauling you up to his chest—your legs wrapped around his torso as you shamelessly grind onto his stomach—and holding you there as his kiss turns starved and brutal, like he hasn’t done this almost every night for the past year.

You’re not complaining. With just his mouth almost molded into yours, one hand fisted in your hair while the other holds you steady against his body, and grunts that you can feel vibrate in his chest, you’re wrecked and whimpering in his arms. You need more. He’s everywhere but it’s not enough, and you’re aching and burning under his touch but it’s not enough-

Ben breaks the kiss when you start to scratch at his shoulders, and you take a ragged, sudden breath. You’d forgotten you needed to breathe, and the rush of air is sending you so high-

He starts to attack your neck and shoulders, tugging at your supe costume to continue his dizzying assault on your skin, and you wrap your arms around his neck in desperate attempt to not fly out of his hold. Ben’s own grip tightens in response—he knows how close you are, just from his kiss and touch, he always knows so you so well—and you squeak his name when he bites at your neck-

“Alright. I got it.” Someone’s talking that’s not Ben. Legend. You’d forgotten he existed at all. “It’s not fake, you’ll be dating, fine. You two can stop now-“

“Get out of my office.” Ben grunts, and Legend sighs.

“We’ve been over this, Soldier Boy, it’s not your-“

Ben pushes you down on the desk, rips off your shirt, starts to kiss over your breast with a possessive growl that sends a shiver up your spine, and Legend groans.

“Fine.” You’re vaguely aware of something shuffling around, but Ben’s rubbing a thumb over your nipples through your bra, and you’re incredibly focused on just holding on. “No messes.”

Neither of you make any promises, and you don’t think no messes is possible. Not as Ben shoves his hand into your panties the moment the door closes, tearing off your bra and lowering his mouth to suck and bite along your breasts.

“I-“ You gasp, your hands shooting to grip at his hair when two rough fingers shove right into your cunt, starting to pump in a smooth, unyielding rhythm. “God, fuck-“

“Say my name, baby,” he grunts, flicking his tongue over a nipple, working you into a frenzy as his fingers bump that deep spot and crook against it- “Say my fucking name and I’ll ruin you like you fucking deserve-“

“Please-“ You squeak as his thumb finds your clit, just pressing as he starts to kiss down your stomach. “Ben, please-“

“There she goes.” Ben nips at your stomach as he lowers himself further, an arm wrapping around your waist to pin you down when the remainder of your clothing is torn from your body and his fingers still, leaving you grinding hopelessly against his hand and gasping for air as a warm breeze picks up in the room. “Want my cock, sweetheart? Going to fucking beg for it like the pretty little slut you are, so fucking needy-“

“I’m-“ You gasp as he bites at your inner thigh, and you can feel his grip tighten again as your hair starts to float around your head. “Just for you, Ben, just need you, please-“

“Such good manners,” he drawls, pressing one, mockingly sweet kiss to your clit as he shoves your knees further apart. “So fucking wet, too. Anyone else get you like this, sweet girl-“

You shake your head, bucking your hips up into the air. “No- Never anyone else, just you-“

“That’s fucking right.” He growls, his thumb pressing to your clit, his breath warm over your cunt. “You’re all fucking mine-“

“Yours,” you gasp. “Ben, please-“

He rises back up, pinching your clit as his mouth crashes back into yours and groaning your name when you writhe against him. 

“Christ on a fucking cross, baby-“

“Ben-“ Your snake your hand between when his body is wrapped over yours, palming at him through his pants. “More, need more-“

“Always fucking give you more,” he grunts, pulling your hair until your head tips further back with a whine. “Need to wait, use those pretty fucking manners-“

He cuts himself off with a groan as the wind starts to tear through the room, and you shove your hand into his pants, wrapping your hand around his dick and stroking it until his hips rut up into you-

Ben catches your wrist, and before you know what’s happening you’re flat on your back, your hands pinned over your head and Ben’s face hovering inches over yours.

“I said fucking wait.” He hisses, and you swallow. “You pull that shit and I’m going to blow all that cum you love so much on your fucking hand. Is that what you want?”

You shake your head, grinding up into where you can feel him, pressed right on your inner thigh.

“Words-“

“No.” Your words are breathy and desperate, and you don’t care. “Ben-“

“What do you want?” His tone is mocking, a smirk pulling at his lips, and God, he’s such an asshole but you fucking love him- 

“You, want you, Ben-“

He hums, dropping the full weight of his hips over yours and chuckling at your high whine when the head of his cock bumps at your clit. “What do you want me to do-“

“Fuck me,” there’s no hesitation in your voice. With Ben, there never is. “Want your cock, Ben, please-“

It’s all he needs. Ben slams into you with one movement, but doesn’t move. He just splits you open beneath his and grins at your dazed expression, the head of him pressed right on that spot and fuck, he needs to move-

“Need a second, pretty girl?”

“I- move-“ You squeeze around him, pride glowing in your chest at the low, rumbling groan it draws from his chest. “Ben-“

He gives one rough thrust, pulling all the way out before slamming back in, and you let out a high, strangled sound of need.

“Say you’re mine.” He growls, repeating the movement, a little faster. “Tell me who fucks you this good, who you fucking love, who makes you a cockdrunk, needy little slut-“

He’s makes another thrust with every demand, and the euphoria of Ben all around and in you is like a truth serum. If you wanted to lie, you couldn’t. 

This feels too fucking good.

“Yours Ben, I’m yours, it’s only you,” you gasp as he bruises against that one spot, his mouth diving down to suck at your neck. “Always you, just you, I love you, please-“

That snaps him. Ben starts to fuck you, really, properly fuck you, your hands still trapped above you and his cock bruising your cervix as he hammers into your dripping cunt, letting your scratch and claw at his broad, muscled back and whine his name as his balls slap on your ass and his free hand plays with your tits until you’re writhing and gasping below him-

“Fucking mine.” He grunts, his thrusts never breaking pace as you hurl towards release. “So fucking desperate for me, baby, nobody’s gonna fuck you like I do, fucking love you, love this pretty fucking pussy, such a good girl for me, squeezing my cock so fucking tight-“

You make a strangled sound that’s supposed to be his name, and Ben swallows it with his mouth over yours.  

“Need to cum in you, baby,” he growls down your throat, his hand gliding your body to rest over your throat. “Need to fucking fill you up, let everyone know you’re fucking mine-“

You nod a little stupidly, a white-hot coil wound so tight in your stomach, so close to snapping-

Ben pushes up off of you, reaching an inhuman, abusing and perfect pace in your cunt, and right as the coil burst like starlight through your body, he squeezes his hand around your throat with just the right amount of pressure to drag the mind-numbing pleasure on and on, letting you ride your orgasm as he roars your name and comes with one last slam of his hips.

He tugs you back to his chest as you both come down, knowing far better than you let your body go when you’re still light-headed and drunk on how warm you feel. Full of Ben and used by him in the best possible way, and he loves you, he’s said it two times now and that’s real.

Ben drags two fingers through your dripping, still fluttering pussy, stuffing his cum back inside of you—a tiny ritual he always seems to do for himself, because you’re on the pill but he always glows with pride after, so you let him indulge—as he kisses over your collarbone, and you bury your face in his neck with an easy hum.

“Are you,” you sigh, clinging to his body like a baby as his rubs firm circles over your back. “Were you serious?”

You can hear the frown in his voice. “I’m always fucking serious-“

“I know, I just mean-“ You sigh, leaning back to scan over his handsome, solid features. “About us. Are we- Is this public now?”

His jaw clenches slightly. “You’re the one who was calling me the best thing that ever happened to you-“

“I- you are, I just want to be sure you’re sure-“

“I’ve been sure since I fucking saw you,” Ben says your name, his voice firm, and you just stare at him. “The secret shit was your idea, and I’d move a fucking mountain for you, so I did it, but it’s always been fucking dumb as shit.”

“Oh.” You swallow, offering him a small smile. “Sorry.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. We’re public, sweetheart, and every single fucking pussy in the world is going to know you’re mine.”

“Good,” you hum, resting your head back on his shoulder. “You’re mine too, you know.”

“I’m damn well aware.” Ben kisses the side of your head, tracing a hand up your spine. “All fucking yours.”

End Note: I never have more fun than coming up with Soldier Boy insults. Channeling all the swearing I can't do at work into this.

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[moosesarecute]

Chapter 17: The Shadow to my Flame

Series masterlist

Masterlist

233 years later

Ashe had just finished her work at the apothecary and all she wanted to do was curl up into her mate’s arms and stay there for a few hours. She had not expected Rhys to reach into her mind explaining that he had finally brought Feyre to Velaris and that he needed her and the rest of their family to be on their best behaviour for a normal family dinner that night.

Except it wasn’t normal at all if they had to be on their best behaviour. She knew for a fact that both Mor and Cass would make Rhys rethink his friendship with them. Ashe would usually have enjoyed that, but work had been crazy the last couple of days and she needed a nap.

For the first almost two centuries she had lived in Velaris, Ashe had been working in the fields with her parents, taken a few fun odd jobs here and there and worked on glass art.

It had started when Cass had broken her mate’s favourite cup. It was made of glass and had blue flowers on it. Ashe had gifted it to him as a joke, but he really loved it. When Cass broke it, he became quite sad. Ashe found it adorable that her mate loved it so much and had used her powers to melt the glass back into a cup and did her best to repaint it.

Even though the cup was almost two centuries old now, Azriel still used it from time to time. He didn’t want to overuse it, scared he might break it again, but he used it on special occasions.

After that, Ashe had started making different things with glass and fire. Sometimes also clay and fire. She found a lot of wild clay out in the patch of land Thord and Samli used to own, so she used it to make and sell all kinds of stuff. Her favourite was the Winter Solstice she had gifted Mor and Cass matching glass dildos. They still laughed about it, even though it was over fifty years ago. Azriel got embarrassed by it, of course, but he told Ashe that he didn’t care as long as she didn’t pull him into something similar.

However, when Rhys had been Under the Mountain, Ashe felt the need to be more useful. Making plates and cups no longer seemed good enough. Her family was struggling to make the court survive and she was having fun, it didn’t feel right. 

That’s when she found out Madja was looking for someone to run the apothecary. Ashe had applied and went through a normal process of interviews and cases she had to solve. In the end, she got the job.

The days went fast, and she learned a lot about all kinds of medicine. She never did any healing, but she was a kind face to see and ask. The longer she worked, the more she questions could answer. She enjoyed it.

When Rhys had gotten back to Velaris and told them about what he thought would bloom into a war, Ashe decided to stay working with medicine and help as many as she could. She wanted to be useful.

Except for the last couple of days, she had been the opposite. She had been unfocused, tired and annoyed at almost everybody. She had spoken a lot with Azriel about it, and they had concluded that it was because of that date that came closer and closer.

It had been a decade since it happened. Since Samli got too old and her body started to give out. It wasn’t often fae got sick, but the older they got, the easier it was for them to catch something they shouldn’t. Both Samli and Thord were old, they said they stopped counting at 1500 years, and they knew that their time was getting closer and closer. Thord and Ashe did all they could, but eventually they realized that it was time. Samli was herself until the end. She was picky about her tea and told Thord it was too hot only hours before she died.

Ashe had never heard Thord scream until that evening.

It took him three hours to stop crying and throwing up. Ashe stayed by him the entire time.

It was close to three in the morning when Azriel arrived and Thord asked for some time alone with Samli. He looked many years older than what he had the day before.

Ashe stayed up crying with her own mate for the rest of the night. She had never been so grateful of having him in her arms and for the next couple of months, she struggled to be away from him. She was terrified of something happening.

The next morning, when Ashe and Azriel walked into Thord and Samli’s room, Thord had died too. From what Ashe could gather, it seemed like he went to bed beside his mate and fell asleep, without waking up again.

It hurt so badly. Ashe felt alone for a long time, but eventually she realized it was for the best. Thord was extremely soft and emotional. Ashe didn’t think he could have survived much longer anyway. Samli probably could have managed it, barely, but not Thord.

It was just more prove that they were meant to be together.

Ashe and Azriel had lived in a cozy apartment, but after her parents died, they had moved into the house. Ashe loved living there. All the beautiful memories she had with Thord and Samli still lived in the home they had created. Anywhere Ashe looked she could spot the love that was between her parents and it encouraged both her and Azriel to make the most out of the love they had for each other.

Next week, it would be ten years since they died, and Ashe struggled. She was also angry at herself. Madja had noticed how much worse the job she was doing was and asked her to take some days off. She felt like a failure not managing to control her feelings again.

It was Cass that flew her up to the House of Wind. Azriel was already there, but Cass was doing stuff in the city. She didn’t bother asking what. Even after such a long time, Ashe still didn’t enjoy flying. Cassian flew a lot rougher than her mate did, so she hated it even more when he flew her.

“Relax, Ashy,” Cassian said. “I’m not going to drop you.”

Then he did the most awful thing and dropped a few meters down in the air. Ashe screamed loudly and immediately felt worry from her mate fill her chest.

She was going to kill Cassian. He only laughed at her and eventually flew to and landed on the balcony.

Azriel was there in an instant. His shadows tried to calm her down, but she was feeling so much and anger was the biggest emotion.

“Breathe, Wildflame,” Azriel’s voice got through to her brain. “He meant it as a joke, I’ll talk to him about it. You just need to control your breathing.”

She managed to relax a little and as she looked into his eyes the usual butterflies filled her stomach. Ashe hadn’t believed it was possible to get butterflies even after over two centuries, but her mate was also more beautiful than she thought was possible, so it made sense.

“Hello, my Flame. It’s still a few hours until dinner. Let’s relax a little, shall we?”

He took her hand and walked to his old bedroom in the House. He laid down on the bed first and then he pulled her down into his strong arms and folded his wings over her.

They laid in silence until she was ready to talk. And then they spoke through all of her feelings and all of his feelings until Ashe felt better and no longer had the need to kill her brother-in-law.

With only an hour until the dinner, Ashe started getting ready. The most healing thing for her when she was feeling like a mess, was looking the opposite. She curled her hair, did some light makeup and put on a casual, but very comfortable dress. It was her new favourite and Azriel had flown to get it while she was getting ready. He had bought it for her a couple of days ago for no reason, only that it had pockets, and he thought about her when he saw it.

 “I knew you’d look beautiful in that,” he said and wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “My beautiful mate.”

Ashe was about to kiss him back, when loud knocks were heard on the door.

“They are getting here soon,” Mor yelled at them. “You had to get out of your mate-bubble and come to the dining room.”

Ashe let out a small smile.

“Come on, it will be fun,” Azriel said with fake enthusiasm.

“Is this how you feel when I drag you out dancing with Mor and I?”

“Yup,” he answered as he gave her a small push towards the door. Then he smacked her ass.

Just like she did when she was the one forcing him out.

He took hold of her hand, and they walked together to the dining room.

Feyre saw the female in front of her and immediately notices something familiar. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

She stood confidently, holding Azriel’s hand. Feyre didn’t need anyone to tell her, she could see the love blooming between the two. She realized they were a couple. Might even married? Or mates?

“Seeing something familiar?” Rhys asked her with a slightly smug smile.

Feyre started getting annoyed. What was it about this female that was so known? So familiar? Her red hair was to her shoulders and curled softly. The dress she wore was casual and a lot more modest than the one Mor wore, but Ashe could see multiple scares one the female’s arms and legs.  

The female tilted her head to the side and smiled a smile Feyre had seen many times before. Only earlier, the smile had been worn by someone else.

Feyre sat in the kitchen, sipping carefully on a cup of tea. She was deep in thoughts. She had left her family. Her sisters and father were on their own. And even though Tamlin said they were safe; she had started to doubt it.

What if they were hungry? Struggling? Were they cold or scared?

She hadn’t noticed Lucien walking into the room. She only looked at him first when he sat down in the chair opposite of her.

“Are my sisters truly safe?” she asked him.

He didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes,” he answered gravely. “I promise you that your sisters are safe. We would never mess with anyone's sisters.”

She nodded back at him, but saw how his eyes grew distant. He was thinking about something sad and unpleasant.

“Do you have a sister Lucien?”

He drew a breath and dragged his hand across his face.

“I used to have one, yes.”

“Used to? What happened?”

He let out an almost shaky sigh.

“My father didn’t want a daughter. He forced her to live unknown of her heritage and as a servant. He looked after reason after reason to be allowed to kill her. She got out of Autumn, but it was too late. She was killed.”

“You’re Lucien’s sister,” Feyre told the female. “He thinks you’re dead.”

“That’s the point,” the female answered, and the more Feyre studied her, the more she found resemblance to Lucien, even though they also had features that was very different. “I’m Ashe.”

Feyre didn’t know if she liked the female. She thought back to the conversation with Lucien and remembered the pain he showed.

“Why is it the point? He’s hurt by it.”

“That’s a story for a different day,” Rhys interrupted the two females.

Ashe and Azriel walked and sat down at the table, still beside each other and hand in hand. They whispered to each other and soon, both of them smiled. Feyre realized she didn’t know the entire story.

“Please don’t be dead.”

Feyre opened the door and saw Mor and Ashe standing outside the cabin. Ashe held her arms around Mor. Mor was shivering and it was obvious that Ashe used her powers trying to heat up both of them.

“Hello,” Ashe said smiling an overly enthusiastic smile. “Can we come in?”

 The three females talked in the cabin. The two others teased Feyre a little because of her painting, but it felt kind and safe. The conversation eventually moved over to the mating bond.

“I left him out in the mud. He was hurt and I left him,” Feyre tried to explain, but her feelings were too complex to explain. However, Ashe understood.

She sat down the mug she was sipping from, leaned back in her chair and started talking.

“I once hit Azriel in the head with a frying pan,” she said. It took a few seconds before Feyre and Mor realized just what she said. They looked at her with wide eyes. “I’m not abusive, I promise. I had an awful day filled with nightmares and terrors. Azriel didn’t know, so he snuck up on me, a trigger none of us knew about. I got a flashback and hit him. If was first when I heard it hitting him, I understood what I had done. I started crying and Azriel ended up comforting me. Let’s just say our communication have gotten a lot better after that.

“The point is we will hurt and sometimes also disappoint our mates, and it will happen multiple times. But they will forgive us. Or mates will also hurt us and we will forgive them. It’s worth it in the end.”

Feyre had heard many times about Ashe’s temper. The fire in her blood having a totally different meaning than with Lucien. However, she had never experienced it. Only heard about it.

Ashe’s words connected all the feelings Feyre was battling.

It was worth it.

Feyre hadn’t seen Azriel feral even though she had been in Velaris for quite some time. That was until after the battle of Velaris.

The entire family started to worry when neither Azriel or Ashe had taken contact with them after the attack. They got even more worried when Azriel answered Rhys mental calls and told him that they were at Madja’s.

The two most stubborn people in their life had voluntarily gone to Madja.

Azriel was carrying Ashe when they arrived. He had an edge in his walk that told everyone to keep a distance. The shadows joined him and almost pushed all of them further away from Ashe.

“Relax,” Ashe said to him softly. “You’re overreacting.”

Azriel was a male that was hard to read, but at that moment, he was fuming with anger. He was almost shaking as he put Ashe down in a chair and crunched down in front of her.

“I’m not overreacting,” he answered.

“I’m not hurt anymore, Azriel,” Ashe answered. She was looking only at him as she cupped his cheek and rubbed her thumb over it. “I’m safe.”

Azriel didn’t move. He was holding her hand tightly. He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Barely,” he whispered. “I do love you, temper and wildflame and all, but I hate not being able to protect you.”

“What happened?” Rhys asked them.

Azriel was about to answer, but Ashe spoke before him.

“One of them landed in the middle of a group of children. I was hiding in the apothecary but got out to help them. The soldier didn’t attack until after I had winnowed all the children out, but that alone took most of my energy. I have never winnowed that fast and with that many before.”

“That did you do when he attacked?” It was Cassian that asked her.

“Burned him,” she answered without hesitation. Feyre understood that she must have burned him to the ground, not only given him a small wound. “Burned quite lot of myself in the process, hence the trip to Madja.” Then she turned her gaze back to Azriel. He had been looking at her the entire time. “But I’m safe.”

“Ashe never leaves Velaris since her being alive is a secret. Azriel isn’t used to her being in danger.” Rhys explained silently to Feyre. “She’s gone through enough.”

Feyre had learned more and more about Ashe’s previous life. The abuse and betrayal she had gone through. It didn’t seem like this had affected her too much. Or maybe she was just waiting for a different time to show her emotions.

Ashe turned her head up to the rest of them again.

“Our house is also not doing that well,” she spoke, and it almost sounded like her voice was breaking. “So, we were hoping we could stay at the Townhouse.”

“What do you mean “not doing that well”?” Feyre asked her.

“Burned to the ground,” Azriel’s voice was more intimidating that she had ever heard him before. “Only a small part of the kitchen wall is standing, and it probably won’t be for long.”

Feyre thought back to the nights she and Mor had spent gossiping with Ashe in their living room. Thought back to the sweet love Ashe and Azriel had displayed only in their house.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t listening,” Ashe almost yelled at her mate. All three of the females had been drinking a little too much wine and started gossiping about all and nothing. Including most of the High Lords. Their laughs filled the entire house.

In the middle of the conversation, Azriel had snuck into the house and kitchen. Feyre had no clue how Ashe knew he had gotten home, as he made no sounds.

He smiled softly at his mate, walked towards her and kissed the top of her head, but didn’t answer her accusations. He then moved to the stairs, probably to go to get some time for himself after a night drinking with his brothers.

“You love me,” Ashe said.

“Yes, I do my Flame. Temper and all,” he answered with a laugh and a shadow caressed Ashe’s cheek before Azriel had disappeared upstairs.

Ashe wore a sweet blush the rest of the evening.

 Feyre knew how much the house, the home, meant to Ashe and couldn’t imagine what the two of them were going through.

“Of course,” Rhys answered. “I’ll make sure everything ready for you.”

“It’s fine,” Ashe said as she stood up. Azriel immediately wrapped one arm around her waist. “We’ll just go to sleep now if you don’t mind.”

“Shhh,” Azriel whispered into his mate’s hair. “I’ve got you, my Flame.”

He held her tight as she cried. It had been a few rough days for her, and she was now, finally, letting it all out. His instincts told him to be worried about her, but he knew that his mate was strong enough to get through it.

The fire out of control and the house burning down brought back a lot of bad memories for her. Azriel knew Ashe felt the need to be strong. Felt the need to prove that she could take all that the mother had trusted upon her. At the same time, he loved how he could be the person allowed to hold her when it became too much.

A lot of their memories were burned to the ground, but his shadows were eagerly searching through the entire lot trying to find somethings that survived. They would tell Azriel about every little thing they found.

One of Ashe’s favourite books was still intact. Azriel’s favourite mug was fine. The necklace he gave Ashe two years ago was save.

“Mating dress is only burned on the bottom of the skirt. Could cut it shorter,” the shadows told him, and Az let his head fall back in relief.

Ashe spent time each year making sure that her dress was in the best conditions. She loved that dress, and she would wear it on their anniversary almost every year. Azriel loved her in it. It grew with her and even though it would be changed a little now, it at least told the story that even though things change, it with still be the same deep down.

He lifted his head and was about to tell his mate the good news, when he noticed the deepening in her breath, the twitch in her left leg and the soft sigh that turned into a snore.

She was asleep at last.

The day had been filled with sorrow and pain. He could bring the good news of the dress tomorrow and make sure the next day was better than this one.

Azriel wrapped his wings around his Flame and carefully shifted position so that he could sleep too.

The world seemed to go to shit. A lot of bad things were happening way to quickly. Azriel appreciated having his mate in his arms. He felt lucky and grateful known that she would stay by his side forever. He brushed soft hair away from her face and butterflies danced in his stomach at the sweet sight of her sleeping.

He loved his Ashe, his Flame, and he would continue to do so even though many things were changing. She was his constant.

Taglist: @tele86 @demon-master-zero @kbear8863 @atluky @mis-lil-red @rcarbo1

Let me know if you want to be added!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[harmonic-intervention]

Don't believe this change of plans is how the story ends

He hoped Buck would move on quickly, too. He deserved it. He deserved someone real, someone sweet, someone who could match his sunshine. Someone who wasn’t Tommy.

Tommy would have to live with that. Again. At least he still had Odin who was trying his best to comfort Tommy every second they spent together.

At least he still had Odin.

Got another fix-it for you. Because I can't be stopped now, and I am working through my WIPs currently.

Word count: 10,538 - getting back together, cat owner tommy, origin story of the cat I continuously give him

Excerpt:

Who fucking decided from one day to the next that actually no, he didn’t want a future with Tommy after all. After they had fucking discussed saving up for a house, talked about kids in the future. About engagement and marriage and all that. They’d started getting their ducks in a row. Lucas had said he expected a proposal by Christmas. Tommy had- Tommy had fucking loved the guy.

Only to come home one day with a duffel bag full of his clothes, and Lucas telling him it would be best to move out. That the future he and Tommy had talked about was actually not really something he wanted. He essentially kicked Tommy out, disregarding the fact that he had nowhere to go.

He lived in his car for weeks. Showered at work. Took as many long shifts as legally possible, just so he didn’t have to go home. Not when home was his truck. At the very least he had Sal, who let him store his stuff in his garage, but Sal’s and Gina’s apartment was barely big enough for them and their little daughter, so Tommy didn’t even ask to crash with them. He’d stopped Sal before he could offer.

He had a stroke of luck a little while ago. He’d kept this house in his bookmarks for a while. It wasn’t huge, but it was big enough. Tommy had thought he could convince Lucas to downsize a little from his ideas. The house was charming, older, with dark wooden accents and a big, fenced backyard. It had large windows in the back, leaving potential for natural light in the kitchen and living room. It was in their price range.

And then, as he checked over in a moment of masochistic weakness, he’d been shocked to see that the price had gone down massively. Enough that Tommy could justify buying the house on his own. It seemed too good to be true, so he called to ask what the hell had happened.

As it turned out, the house had belonged to an older couple who had wanted to downsize in age. The husband, however, had died recently, and his widow wanted nothing more than to get out of the house she had shared with her love. She just wanted to wash her hands off it. None of their kids were interested in keeping the house.

She wanted to meet Tommy. See whether she would be willing to sell to him. So, he showed up, had tea with her, and listened to her talk about her beloved Harold and the time they had spent together. How now, it was too painful for her, but she wanted to know that her house was in good hands.

She showed Tommy around. There was a bittersweet atmosphere around the house, love hanging in the air. The very foundation of the place seemed to be love, and for a moment, he didn’t feel like he should be here. But Elisabeth smiled at him and asked questions that Tommy could only give vague answers to – about family, and friends, and significant others.

Somehow, Tommy made a good enough impression. Somehow, despite everything, things went as smoothly as possible. It took another couple of weeks for everything to be straightened out, and for the signature of Elisabeth and Harold to be carried out of the house, but then, Tommy stood in the middle of the mostly empty place, now his.

It took another one and a half weeks to move his stuff from Sal’s to the house, and to get new furniture. For a couple of days now, Tommy was able to come home to a kitchen filled with natural light, a large garage, and a front yard that still needed some work. There was stuff missing from his old home that Lucas had kept because Tommy had a horrible taste in men and this guy had turned out to be the biggest asshole to walk the earth. At least Tommy didn’t have a hard time getting over him.

He was more struggling to get over the life he had planned out, the life he had wanted, the life he didn’t get to have. And he was struggling with the loneliness. Coming home to an empty house, knowing there was no-one waiting for him in the kitchen or the living room, and no-one was coming by later to kiss him hello.

He always felt lonely, even when he was surrounded by friends. That’s just how his life went. And he was tired of it.

That didn’t mean he wanted a new boyfriend – hell no, time to stay away from dating for a while. This whole thing really was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Tommy could only handle being told he wasn’t the forever guy his partners were looking for so many times. He needed to take a step back from dating and work on himself, to maybe find some joy in his life without a partner. Since that was the direction it was headed in.

No, he didn’t want a boyfriend. What he did want, however, was a cat.

[continue on ao3]

[tangleweave]

Sigyn passing the buck on sharing her history isn’t unexpected, and Eddie gives a somber nod as she admits how difficult it is for her to share. No surprise there. Most people who’d survived the initial Snap had found the world all but impossible to navigate without the support of half (or more) of their family and friends. How had the Snap worked, anyway? Had it truly been random? Could there really be any telling that, on such an unprecedented scale? Half the universe’s sentient organisms, wiped to ash in the blink of an eye… and of the survivors, how many species had been decimated beyond any hope of repair? How many had gone extinct? Conjecture would chase those questions until the end of time – but the truth was, quite simply, no one would ever really know.

He laces his fingers around his drink and rests his elbows on the table while hunching forward; the posture is perhaps a bit gauche, but the hunkering is indicative of how protective he is of his own personal details. But even though she’s not ready to talk, the fact that she’s invited him to do so tells him that she’s far more ready to listen now than she’d been a short time ago.

“Tell you what,” he says. “You’re not obliged to share anything with me you don’t wanna. You’re a private citizen all your own. I’m not the type to drag someone’s personal details kicking an’ screaming out into the limelight. Just know that my ears are open, when you’re ready to put ‘em to good use.”

Then one side of his mouth quirks up, and he bobs his head again. “A’ight, so I guess we’ll get started with me. Or, umm, Us.” He shrugs and pops up his thumbs for emphasis. “Pronouns get confusing sometimes with Us, but just think’uh each of Us as a separate he/him, an’ when it’s the big toothy hybrid guy folks get twitchy over, that’s a They/Them. More on that, I guess, in a little while.”

He chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. “An’, uh… I don’t really know where to begin with it. Few years ago, I was really down on my luck, lost my job as a journalist in New York ‘cause I did something really dumb. Lost my fiancée, too, ‘cause – well, ‘cause of a lotta reasons, but mainly, she figured out we just weren’t right for each other, an’ didn’t really have the eyes to see it ‘til she saw what I looked like when I was down an’ out. Unlucky in work, love, money… pretty well lost everything, an’ I went to church. Not for Mass, it was in the middle’uh the week, didn’t even go to confess, I just sat in the pew, stewin’ about everything that had happened in my life ‘til then.”

He unlaces his fingers from the drink, and instead begins to gesticulate with his hands as he speaks. The words are flowing a little more freely now. “At first, I thought I was sittin’ down to have a quiet little chat with God about what I was supposed to do with myself. Like, was this all supposed to be part’uh the plan for me? Is this what He had in mind? Was this supposed to be that whole ‘the Lord giveth an’ the Lord taketh away’ schtick? ‘Cause what the Lord tooketh away… it’s the sort’uh peace you don’t get back. Not the same way. Oh, maybe I’d luck out, get another job, another partner, another chance to build up to what I used to have – but I’d never feel secure in it, never again. Like when God an’ the Devil decided to gamble over Job’s unwaverin’ faith.”

Then he brushes his hand through the air. “Well… my faith, it was waverin’ pretty bad. An’ suddenly I realized I didn’t come to that church to ask what the plan was. I went there to ask if it was okay for me to just, uh… cut things short a little ahead’uh time, if you get my drift.” A wry, pained smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “An’ what was weird about that was, right when I was askin’ for a sign that there was anything worth stayin’ for… the church bells started ringin’. Wasn’t even on the hour. They just started bangin’ away outta nowhere.”

Twin creases form between Eddie’s eyebrows, and there’s a faraway look in his eyes as he seeks out the words to define the memory… and realizes it’s not something he’s really told anyone else. “So I get up, an’ I go over to the altar rail, right? ‘Cause that can’t be just any coincidence, I’m there in the sanctuary, there’s no one else around that time’uh night, just me an’ God, an’ I just, I kneel down an’ just, I wanna know, what is it, if I’m supposed to be here, what is it He needs from me? I mean, the bells are ringin’, there’s gotta be more if I just got it in me to see it or hear it, maybe the Rapture is on the way, I dunno, but… just gimme somethin’, anything.”

He stops short and comes back to the moment, his eyes flickering at her from across the table. Another wry smile crosses his expression. “I didn’t know that it wasn’t God makin’ the bells ring. It was someone else… someone who had all these incredible gifts, an’ then got one more after it all, in the form of a Klyntar, whose only crime was doin’ exactly what He was created to do. Bonding. But His bondmate, he, he didn’t appreciate what a gift he’d received. Didn’t recognize Him as a livin’, breathin’ being who needed him, needed the bond, to survive. But learned that loud noise… like church bells… would hurt Him. So right in that moment, right then, when I was askin' for a sign to live...?”

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “I didn’t understand until We found each other in that church… how fragile an’ precious life really is. I was lookin’ for a reason to keep livin’ mine, while He was strugglin’ with every last trace’uh energy He had left to hang on to His. We found each other. An’ as scared an’ hurt as We both were? It was like this moment of… understanding. There wasn’t anything but just cling to each Other like wreckage in a storm. An' We've never let go since.”

He draws in a deep breath, expels half, and lets the rest out in a shuddering chuckle. "Actually, this is the first time I can remember sayin' all this to someone who wanted to know... and who actually might understand any of the nuance. Most folks don't know or understand about symbiotes."

Sigyn holds back a laugh at his analogy on opinions. It’s not the worst one she’s heard, but it’s still funny to see him struggle. In a way it’s actually, dare she say… cute? Eddie seems to be an awkward one, but she finds it oddly comforting.

However, her head cocks to the side at his extended silence and scrunched-up face. She can only assume he and his Klyntar must be arguing inside his head, and it makes her wonder just how often it happens.

In the minute amount of research she had done on the Klyntar, she never heard of them being… Friendly. So seeing something that proved to be different, or at least appeared that way had her intrigued.

The goddess offered a sheepish smile to the barista as Eddie walked off before quickly following him, having to albeit run just to keep up with the taller man.

She gives Eddie a quick nod as she slides into her seat, taking a long sip of her drinking, humming as the warm liquid spreads across her body. How she went this long without noticing how cold she was amazed her. But then again, her late husband was a frost giant… so it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to it.

Sigyn’s eyes widen at Eddie’s forwardness. So, he just wants to go ahead and get into it, huh? That… surprises her. Most people want to avoid these conversations, so the fact that he’s so willing to listen to her pour her heart out is strange for her.

“I’m really not sure my story is something you want to hear… it’s long and dark, and honestly really hard for me to share.”

This takes her back to the time during the blip. There was many a time when Sigyn tried to attend the support groups Steve hosted. So many times she intended to speak, to talk about what happened, but the words just never left her mouth. The only person she ever felt comfortable talking about everything to was Thor, and he wasn’t even on Earth at the moment.

“Why don’t you tell me about your friend… We’ll work our way to my drama later,” She says, wanting to avoid opening up in a public place, for she knows the moment she starts is the moment she starts crying, and then she’ll never stop.

[jasontoddstherapist]

PSA |

Yes this is a Jason Peter Todd centric blog, but it's also 100% supportive of Talia al Ghul. There will be no slander here. No perpetuating of the racist, misogynistic bullshit that drove the narrative divebomb of her character.

[averlym]

whshdfhfjf.,,,

[gayjunebug]

i am a fucking idiot, that is the conclusion im coming to recently.