#but then another part of her brings herself back down to earth

[nathaslosthershit]

Emotional Times (OP81)

Summary: Pregnancy was a time full of hardships. Hormones on high, stress of the incoming baby, and all the sudden changes were what this father-to-be was expecting, ready to face. What he wasn't expecting was having to battle his pregnant wife's newfound sensitivity to everything that could have her emotions changing in an instant Part of my summer event!

It has been a rough time in the Piastri household. Oscar loves his wife, he really does, and god, would he move heaven and earth for her. In her current state though, she doesn’t know whether she wants heaven or earth and if he brings her the wrong one she will burst into tears, but if he brings her the right one, she will also burst into tears.

There wasn’t any winning. During moments like that, he just had to remember that greener grass on the other side. The other side where he finally has his own little family. 

The couple had also both made peace with the fact he would be traveling a lot during the season and she would have to spend some of her pregnancy by herself. It was easy while she could travel in the beginning but a few complications cut her ability to do so off much sooner than the two would have liked. And she did not like this. 

“Honey, please, get back in bed.” Oscar begged at 5 am. He was ready to head off to his next race, when he unintentionally woke his very pregnant wife up after giving her a kiss on the forehead.

This made her frustrated, she had finally gone to sleep after spending so much of the night tossing and trying to turn and the minute she drifts off he has the audacity to-

Then she realized he kissed her on the forehead because he was leaving her. 

Now, she was holding onto him by the front door, in absolute tears at the thought she would have to do another race weekend alone.

“Please, my love. It absolutely breaks my heart to leave you but I have no choice. Don’t make this harder for me…” Oscar tried to reason with her, but he was on the brink of tears himself seeing how much she wanted him to stay, realizing how much he wanted to stay. But he couldn’t.

“Oscar, I can’t do it, please it's so hard being here all alone. I know it's cliché but I can’t even tie my shoes. How am I supposed to do anything? How am I supposed to take care of a baby when I can’t take care of myself?”

He knew she wasn’t trying to guilt him into staying or make him feel bad if he did leave. These were real concerns she had voiced before. But he felt so helpless in this moment, almost as helpless as she felt constantly. 

The realization hit him, he couldn’t leave her like this. It was unfair to both of them. He had to do something.

“I will figure something out, don’t worry, Honey. Go back to sleep and when you wake up it will be much better, I promise.” He really shouldn’t promise that when he didn’t have a plan, but he couldn’t come up with one while she was sobbing into his neck and holding on for dear life.

With a few hiccups and a small nod, he wiped her tears and gave her a kiss as he left the apartment. 45 minutes later than he would have liked, hopefully the group he was sharing the jet with didn’t leave him behind. 

She already felt better when she woke up, having gotten hours of sleep, finally. It felt so good to wake up well rested and without that many aches. Nothing could bring her mood down.

Except when she couldn’t get in touch with her husband.

She knew he was traveling, that the minute his plane landed he was off to start preparing for the upcoming race. But no calls and no messages soured her mood real fast. 

She tried to shake it off, she went about her day trying not to dwell on it, trying not to send him threatening messages for not answering her the second she texted him. 

A call woke her up the next morning, well it was noon but she still wasn't pleased. Not till she saw who was calling.

“Oh sweetheart! How are you?” Nicole Piastri asked.

If there was one person she loved almost as much as her husband, it was his mother.

“I’m okay, haven’t heard from Oscar much, that asshole.” she grumbled.

“Oh I remember the days, that's why I have my twitter afterall.” Nicole said, making her laugh. It was sometimes a wonder how her husband was Nicole’s son. 

“Yeah well i-”

“Oh crap, honey, I have to go! But I’ll see you soon, okay? Hang tight!” Nicole said before hanging up.

She didn’t have time to dwell on the abrupt end to the call as a knock came from the front door. Connecting the two, she wobbled as fast as she could to the door, where her mother-in-law stood. 

And then she burst into tears.

“Oh, he told me you were going to do that but I didn’t know it would be that immediate,” Nicole said as she went to hug her. 

Through the tears and snot, she asked “Oscar? What do you mean?”

“He said he texted you, gosh, he is the worst at communication for someone who spends so much time on his phone,” she frowned at her daughter-in-law.

Quickly opening her texts, she saw he had messaged her a few hours ago:

Oscar: I told you I had a plan, just a few more hours, my love. I can’t wait to see you in a few days :) 

Thus the mother and daughter-in-law started their girls weekend. My god, it was exactly what she needed. As much as she loved her husband, this was 1000 times better than what she would have done if he was here. And despite how much she missed him, the weekend seemed to fly by. 

Oscar: How is she? I am only half an hour away.

Nicole: Currently napping, but she has been good! Relaxed and happy. Hasn’t even cried in the past few days

Oscar: Wow, I am almost offended she didn’t miss me more?

Nicole: She needed girl time, you couldn’t give that to her sweetheart. She also needed someone who actually knew how to correctly do laundry.

Oscar: Alright, mum, nice talking to you. I'll be back soon, please don’t turn my wife against me.

Nicole: 😉

Just as he did when he was leaving, Oscar unintentionally woke his pregnant wife up when kissing her on the forehead. Unlike when he was leaving, she didn’t get upset. She was too happy to see him that the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

Holding him in a death grip, she recounted all she did while he was gone. She couldn’t really go out much at this point, so hearing his mom still found a way to make her weekend enjoyable was a relief. 

“I haven’t even cried over something stupid in a while!” She said as she finished her account of the past few days.

“I heard, I am glad you are feeling so much better, my love. I hated being gone but hearing you had a wonderful time makes me so happy.” He said as he began to tear up, thinking about how awful it was to leave. 

“Oscar, come on, just cause i'm not as emotional doesn’t mean you have to make up for it” She teased.

After pestering him about how his time away was, he remembered he had picked up something for her, and while he bought it thinking he would use it to stop her tears, why not just give it to her while she is this happy.

“I picked up your favorite,” he said as he reluctantly handed her the food he got, shuddering at the unusual combination she loved oh so much.

The sound of her son gagging as he watched his wife eat had Nicole coming into the room to investigate. The picture of her pregnant daughter-in-law, happy as a clam while she ate her food, and her son holding his nose and trying to stop himself from throwing up was a sight she committed to memory and knew she was going to bring up for years to come. 

“What have you got there?” Nicole asked, knowingly making Oscar gag again as he was reminded of the food combination.

“Cottage cheese and ketchup,” she answered. Instead of disgust, the couple was confused by the light bulb moment Nicole seemed to have.

“My goodness! That is what I craved with Oscar. Gross to think about now but I loved it then.”

“What! You never told me this?” Oscar asked, astounded he would be the reason his mom had to eat a combination that disgusted him so.

“I was saving it for the next podcast I did. Think I’ll have to talk about this moment too.” His mom teased. 

Rolling his eyes, he turned to his wife and immediately clocked in on the frown beginning to form.

Both mother and son had the same exact thought: Uh oh.

“You- you craved the same thing?” She stuttered out.

“Um, yeah? You okay, Honey?” Nicole asked, now on edge at the incoming storm.

Seconds of silence went by but were soon disrupted by the sounds of his wife’s cries as she took in the information.

“Baby, what's wrong? Why are you upset at that?” Oscar questioned as he went to rub her back in comfort.

“Its just- that is so sweet, and the thought that- that I could be having the same cravings, is just- I just-” His wife didn’t get to finish her sentence as more wails came out, followed by hiccuping.  

Nicole and Oscar looked at each other in alarm as they realized that this was most likely the consequence of a weekend with no breakdowns. They had a long night ahead of them. 

[chucapybara]

alright arlecchino hopping around in my head still so soft mornings with your darling knave!

oh, arlecchino being so utterly enamoured with you. she tends to wake up earlier than you do; a harbinger has many things to go about doing in a day, after all, and being one who manages the affairs of different house of the hearths across teyvat, it's no easy feat.

but on the off days, after a long night of making love to you, she finds herself trapped in your orbit, unable to escape. (not that she'd ever want to.) your soft, radiantly divine figure rests curled beside her, your breath tickling her cheek, and she loves it.

in the respite that comes, in this calm between the noise of her nightmares and of her day work, she finds that all the world is still when you are. an absence of howling, the absence of shades are substituted, if only for those few moments, with the gentle sunbeam that kisses your skin.

(she wishes she were the sun, for a brief time. oh, how her blood almost boils with envy for that heavenly star which gets to kiss you every morning before she does; and were it not for the fact that she loathed to wake you in such peaceful sleep, she may have done so already.)

arlecchino shifts, resting her head on her arm, facing you, observing every rise and fall of your unrobed shoulders, chest. her mind is quiet, silenced, lacking of any other thought except for you.

you, who is so precious to her, that she would rend heaven upon earth and bring down cities and crowns in your name if you asked her to. she who would raise armies and queendoms worshipping you—if she did not already dislike the thought of sharing you with another. (the notion of others gazing upon you with reverence to match hers is preposterous in its nature, so she strangles the thought in its crib.)

as she ponders her prayers for you, she notes how the blanket of your shared bed has dipped below your waist. arlecchino almost has the mind to tuck you back in, to preserve your comfort—all the more when she catches how you shiver, ever so slightly, when exposed to the naked air—but she realises doing so may only wake you.

and so she unfurls her wing of balemoon bloodfire, its crimson feathers catching the sun's rays, illuminating it as sunsets are wont to do. she drapes it over you in replacement for the blanket, mentally chiding it for doing a poor job at keeping you warm.

though, perhaps, this in and of itself was a blessing, too.

your expression eases, and so too does arlecchino's scarlet-eyed gaze soften. her wing rests soothingly around you, almost ticklish, exuding the hearthfire's homely coziness.

and it is this same ticklish sensation that rouses you, slow, steady. your lips part in a yawn, and you peek open a bleary eye, finding your sweet one already long having been observing you. your soul sings.

"good morning, lover," arlecchino murmurs fondly, pressing close. now that you're awake, she has no reservations about pulling you close. she loops an arm around your back, blackened hands ever gentle, ever soft.

you smile, still half-asleep, but savouring the affection. your own palm finds its way to arlecchino's spine, tracing delicately up and down, making your darling knave shiver.

(oh, how weak she finds herself at your touch. let all other things to which she be impenetrable, but for you, she spares a key.)

arlecchino is strong, and it shows in the grooves of her muscled form, tensing in the wake of your drowsed touch. she is especially vulnerable in the space just beside her wing, where you pay special attention, massaging lightly there and leaving tender brushes of your lips. fluttering kisses, with all the softness of rainbow rose petals on the gentle wind.

"morning, arle," you mumble in a wispy breath. you graze your fingertips some along the curve of her side, to the cursed ink on her arm (that is no more a curse than it is a part of the woman you love), tracing them as though you didn't already have every inch of arlecchino mapped out in your memory.

your eyes flutter closed, and your hand goes still, relaxed now on arlecchino's back once more as you are quickly returned to sleep's embrace—arlecchino cradling you, bloodfire wing secured around your form.

but this time, sleep itself has no choice but to share you with her.

all the time in the world could not compare to these tender, infinitisemal moments—your limbs tangled like vines, hair strewn across the pillows upon the bed that is only both yours to own, with you in her arms.

arlecchino's lips draw forth like a magnet, pressing tender kisses along your brow. "rest well, my dove."

and when she speaks, she hopes her faithful prayer follows you into your conscious, to warm your heart and remind you always of the devotion only your sweet knave holds, just for you. only for you.

[natalievoncatte]

“What I did wasn’t personal,” Lena said.

Supergirl had already turned to face her. There were words formed on her lips, but Alex struck first, bringing her viper wit where it wasn’t needed or welcome.

“You had a stash of ‘Kills Kryptonians’. It’s personal,” said Alex.

Lena ignored her, looking directly at Supergirl.

“You know I’d never use it that way.”

“You kept secrets,” said Supergirl. “Secrets change things. I don’t like secrets.”

“Oh really,” Lena spat, knowing she’d regret what came next. “You don’t like secrets. Okay. What’s your real name?”

Alex flinched. Supergirl stared her down. Even in this miserable place, she was inhumanly beautiful, even if Lena was a little resentful that she’d been bitching about walking fifty yards a few moments ago, and making light of exercise, when she had the audacity to look like that.

The pause grew heavy. Something seemed to turn behind Supergirl’s eyes, like she was working something out. Her expression softened lightly.

“Why didn’t you come to me about Sam? I thought we trusted each other.”

“How can I trust you?” Lena said. “You still hold me at arm’s length, won’t let me in, only look for my help when it’s convenient for you. Maybe I should have sought your help, but it isn’t like I have you on speed dial, is it? What was I supposed to do, toss myself off a balcony and hope you were having coffee with Kara Danvers again?”

Supergirl flinched. Looking at Lena intently, she stepped closer, and Alex grew visibly nervous.

“Supergirl…” she said.

“You want to know my real name?”

“Yes,” Lena said, her voice suddenly unsteady, her palms breaking out in a sweat despite the cool, stale air. She stood her ground before a being that could level a mountain with a look and held her gaze.

“Kryptonian names are patronymics, sort of. A man’s name is his own and that of his family. So, for example, my cousin’s name is Kal-El. His father was Jor-El.”

“I knew that already,” said Lena. “Your cousin shared that an interview with Lois Lane.”

“He can share his because he has a name that was given to him by his adoptive family,” said Supergirl, her voice softening as she took another step closer. “I still use my Kryptonian first name.”

Something about that itched at Lena’s brain, but she wasn’t sure what.

“Supergirl,” Alex hissed. “You can’t… we can’t…”

Supergirl threw her a glance. “What? Trust her?” She looked at Lena. “My father was Joe-El’s brother, Zor-El. My mother’s name was Alura In-Ze.”

Lena licked her lips.

“They gave me the name Kara,” said Kara Zor-El. “On Earth, I accepted the surname of the family that took me in to raise me when my cousin gave me up to them. My full name is Kara Zor-El Danvers.”

Lena stumbled a step back, her mouth falling open comically. It felt like the ground was bursting open and swallowing her up, her stomach dropping through her knees.

No. No, no, no, no. It couldn’t be.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked away from her.”

“Look at me.”

Lena looked.

Lena saw.

Her hair was down, but Lena knew those honeyed curls. Supergirl carried herself differently- her shoulders were proud where Kara tended to hunch down, make herself small, as if to pass through the world without touching it.

Lena hadn’t really looked before. Not like this. She’d studied Kara, maybe even mooned over Kara a little until she seemed to confirm she was straight by dating that alien jackass. She knew every part of her face from her soft lips to her feel blue eyes to that funny little scar right over her eye.

How had she not seen?

“Fucking hell, Kara!” Alex snapped.

Lena’s lip trembled. She clenched her fists to keep her hands steady, knowing they were shaking.

“You tricked me,” Lena hissed, “so many times, so many ways, running off and changing into that suit when I thought you were both people. The super-speed, right?”

“I’m sorry,” said Kara, her voice soft. “Let’s just…”

“I wasn’t finished,” said Lena. “You… you told me you were having coffee with Kara, but you are Kara. Kara… you caught me when they threw me off the balcony. You risked being killed by a kryptonite explosion when Metallo went critical. You… you were… Jesus Christ, the plane, the chemicals, that was you?”

Kara’s eyes grew wider with every syllable and even in the gloom, Lena could swear she saw tears welling up within them.

“She’s risked her life for you over and over and over,” Alex said, quietly. “Her faith in you has only wavered the once. She’s always defended you and insisted on your innocence even when I was ready to throw you in a cell,” said Alex. “She defended you from the first. Shit, she defended you from Superman.”

Lena looked from one to the other, staring at them both in turn, trying to keep her wobbly legs from completely collapsing under her.

“I owe you an apology,” said Kara, raising her gaze to meet Lena’s.

“Can you two do this later?” said Alex. “We’re on a mission, here.”

Lena swallowed, hard.

“Yeah. Let’s go find Sam.”

They did find Sam, eventually, but the plan went sideways. After they were thrust back into their bodies, Supergirl -Kara- curtly told her to help Brainy while she and Alex rushed off.

So Lena helped brainy, until it was time for her to leave. Eventually, she made her way back to her penthouse, and to a glass of single malt, neat. She savored its subtleties as she stared out at the stars.

She knew this would happen sooner or later, so she wasn’t surprised when Kara touched down on the balcony, looking utterly stunning and brave and dashing in her fancy suit. She motioned to knock at the glass.

“It’s not locked.”

“Hi,” said Kara, stepping inside.

Lena looked up. “I can’t believe I didn’t see. You’re just… you, in a different outfit.”

That wasn’t exactly true, Lena knew. As she walked into Lena’s living room, Kara had neither the mousy, retiring way of Kara Danvers nor the brash swagger of Supergirl. It was like she was seeing a third person, one who’d been fully revealed for the first time.

“I’ve been going back and forth in my mind, trying to decide what parts of our friendship were real.”

“All of it,” Kara said.

“If my brother were here, he’d say that you befriended me to spy on me and use my resources and genius for your own ends.”

“That’s not true.”

Lena took a sip, and breathed in through her parted lips after swallowing to savor it.

“I know. He said the same thing about Jack, actually. Lex always tries to convince me that anyone else in my life is just after my name or money or body.”

Kara said nothing. Lena looked up.

“Just because he’s a madman who wants to gaslight me into being a supervillain doesn’t mean he’s always wrong. Does it?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“You’ve been very insistent on being my friend,” said Lena. “You practically barged into my life and broke down all my barriers with your earnest kindness, but you were keeping yourself behind another one.”

“The first time I ever saw you, I knew in my heart that you were nothing like him,” said Kara. “I remember every detail.”

“In my office, with Kent.”

“No. In the helicopter. That was the first time I saw you.”

Lena swirled the dregs in her glass. “Oh. Right.”

“I just had to know you. You were compelling, and the way you treated me in your office that day was a huge part of that. You seemed so… I don’t even know how to describe it. I just knew I had to be close to you.”

A fit of pique moved her arm before she could contain herself, and Lena threw the glass. Kara snatched it from the air and placed it on the table without spilling a drop.

She was closer now, standing within arm’s reach.

“You can’t just say things like that to me,” Lena almost hissed, her voice loosened by the whiskey and the one before and the one before that.

“Why?” said Kara.

Lena looked up, swaying slightly.

“You told me your name.”

“I should have sooner. We could have worked together. We could have done a lot of things.”

“Fuck,” Lena snapped. “You’re doing it again! Knock it off?”

“Knock what off?”

“You goddamn well what,” said Lena. “Or maybe you really don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kara. “I just don’t understand. Can you… do you want to tell me what you mean?”

“I… sit down.”

Kara swept her cape aside and sat primly in a side chair, folding her hands in her lap, worrying at the back of her thumb with her other thumb. God, she even had Kara’s mannerisms.”

“I’m gay,” said Lena.

Kara swallowed. “But… you were with Jack… and James… and you really seem to like the letter J,” Kara said, lamely.

“It’s called bisexuality, Kara. It’s a thing.”

“Oh, I um, I don’t really get ‘sexualities.’ On Krypton, we didn’t have sexual preferences. We didn’t choose our partners at all, everything was arranged.”

“That sounds awful,” said Lena.

Kara looked away. “It was our way and it worked. We had stable families, and most people had a kind of love. My parents loved each other.”

Lena sighed. “I wish I could say that. One of my parents didn’t love anyone but himself. Your sister is gay, Kara. How can you not understand it?”

“I understand that. I just find the whole thing confusing, and overwhelming. I keep looking for this spark that everyone talks about, and these ‘gut feelings’, but every time I think I’ve had it, it wasn’t right.”

“It seemed right with Mon-El. Oh. Oh Jesus. You banished your own boyfriend from Earth.”

Kara shook her head. “I know it did. I thought it did. I just never… it was the idea of him. I was checking a box. I was with him to have a boyfriend, not to have him. We’re really different people.”

“Why are we talking about this again?” said Lena.

Kara suddenly looked nervous, and thus even more like herself.

“I don’t know. It just seems to have happened. Kind of like our whole friendship. I never made a plan to be your friend. I never had an agenda. I just needed you in my life without knowing why. You just bring me joy.”

Lena wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream.

You big indestructible goof, that is the spark!

“I should have told you about me after Medusa. I should have trusted you then, but Alex talked me out of it. I didn’t push past when it counted. I know you doubt how much you mean to me now, and I’m so sorry I did that.”

“I’d never hurt you, ever,” said Lena. “Even if you weren’t Kara. But I could never hurt her. You.”

“I know.

“For what it’s worth,” said Lena. “I felt it too. That pull, that need to know you. That’s why I allowed you to get close to me instead of being bundled off by my security. I felt it from the first, that day you came to my office. I might have felt it a little during the helicopter crash, too.”

Kara nodded.

“I feel like there’s something we’re both not saying.”

Lena licked her lips.

“I have to stop the worldkillers. I have to save Sam. I have to fix it all. I just needed to talk to you first. See you first, see you again, just the two of us.”

Lena nodded, swallowing.

“I guess I should go.”

Lena wanted to tell her not to. To ask her to spend the night, change out of that ridiculous suit, to just be Kara and stay with her, but it dawned on her now that it could never be quite like that again. Kara was Supergirl and Supergirl had to be shared with the world.

“I want to help. I’ll come to the DEO.”

“Okay,” said Kara. “I’ll see you there.”

She stood up and walked to the balcony, pausing before she opened the door. She didn’t turn when she spoke, as if she was afraid to face Lena, to face the answer.

“Do you think, when this is over, we can try it again? Try to fix it?”

“Is that something you want?” Said Lena.

“That pull is still there.”

“I know,” said Lena. “I feel it too.”

Kara’s shoulders rose and fell, as if she’d just rolled a great burden from her back.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’ll see you back at the DEO. Goodnight, Lena.”

“Goodnight, Kara.”

She slid the balcony door open and stepped out, pausing for just the briefest second before lifting off, sending a gentle gust of chilly night air rolling into Lena’s penthouse.

Lena let the breeze flow in for a while before she stood up and went to the door, meaning to close it. Instead, she stepped outside, leaning on the railing as the chill raised gooseflesh on her arms.

“I feel it, too.”

[lilislegacy]

I'm not a big fan of Percabeth. But, I'm still open to see different sides of a thing. So, I would like to ask what do you see in the couple? What made you like Percabeth? Was the ship important to you when you were a child/teenager? Can you list the positive things that you may remember about Percabeth, please? If you can't, it's okay too. For the last one: What is the thing you love the most about them?

Oh my god I could go on and on about this question. I will try to keep it as short as possible. Basically, I just love how deep their relationship goes. There are so many things about them that makes them such an incredible pairing to me

1. There is so much mutual respect and support between them. They are battle partners. They respect each other's strengths and capabilities to the highest degree. Annabeth deeply values Percy's bravery and loyalty, while Percy deeply values and admires Annabeth's intelligence and strategic thinking. They support each other no matter what. No one respects Annabeth more than Percy, and no one respects Percy more than Annabeth. They trust one another explicitly. And that deep-rooted trust and respect is what separates them from so many other pairings.

2. They perfectly complement each other. Their contrasting personalities balance each other out so beautifully. Percy is impulsive and unpredictable, and Annabeth is thoughtful and strategic, which makes them an incredibly strong team. In any situation, whatever one of them lacks, the other has in abundance. Percy gets angry and worked up easily, but Annabeth can calm him down. Annabeth overthinks things and stresses herself out, but Percy can simplify things and bring her back down to earth. They keep each other level on a deep mental/emotional level. And the biggest one, in my opinion: Annabeth’s biggest fear is being betrayed and abandoned, and Percy’s defining trait is unwavering loyalty. They are like two different puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.

3. They’ve been through so much togeher. The two of them share a history that no one else could possibly understand. They have learned and grown so much together. They started going on dangerous quests together when they were little baby 12 year olds, and have been fighting by each other’s side ever since. From going on quests, to being part of a prophecy, to dealing with the complexities of their identities as demigods, the challenges they’ve faced have impacted them both tremendously. And no one else would understand exactly why they’re the way they are. And you know, there’s the fact that they literally walked through hell together. Their experiences deepen their connection and understanding of each other more than words can describe. No one else could possibly understand them like they understand each other.

4. The chemistry is off the charts. The heat and attraction between them is abundantly clear, which adds a layer of realism and excitement to their relationship. In PJO it’s mainly tension - that’s clear in their banter and arguments and angsty thoughts - but when they’re older and together, it’s shown more through attraction and physical affection. Let me give some examples. When Annabeth touched his back in TLO, Percy says he feels as if jolts of electrify course through his body. In the demigod diaries, Percy mentions how beautiful she looks while in combat. There’s also a scene where he can’t focus because he’s literally staring at how her camp beads lay against her throat. Annabeth is constantly wanting to hug him and be in his arms. When she sees him in MoA, she literally has to restrain herself from continuously kissing him. And when they are about to fall into tartarus, to either death or torture, her dominating thought is how handsome he looks. Throughout all of HoO, they are super touchy and affectionate with each other, always touching and cuddling and kissing one another whenever they can. And of course, I have to mention the time that they literally made out in front of Piper in BoO, and Annabeth makes “grunt-whimper” sounds. I just love how down bad for each other they are. No one who can read can deny it. There is so much heat and attraction and affection between them.

5. Their loyalty to each other is unwavering. They consistently prioritize each other's well-being over anything and anyone else. They always have each other’s backs, both in battle and verbal interactions. They quite literally go across the country/world to find each other when they each get kidnapped. No distance, no person, nothing will stop them from finding each other and protecting each other.

6. They are equals. Given they are both legendary greek heroes who will go down in olympian history, it’s hard to find someone who compares. But they are both so equally extraordinary. Sure, they have different strengths, but neither is better than the other. They are both incredibly brave. They are both super witty. They both would do anything for their friends. They are both leaders. They just GET each other. They are on another level - and it’s the exact same level.

There’s more too. I could go on and on and on. (And on.) There is so much I didn’t say. But all of those elements combined is why I love them. They were made to love one another. They choose to love each other, every single moment of every day.

And my favorite thing? Probably that above all, they are best friends. There are all the things I mentioned above, but at the foundation of their relationship is an unwavering friendship. They just love being together. They love joking around together and hanging out, but also holding each other when times are rough. They take care of each other. I love that they are BFFs. Two besties who also happen to be soulmates, together against the world.

Ugh I just love them. I need to stop talking

[sssammich]

fic: come what may pt 3

part 1 | part 2

if you wanna read on ao3

thanks x

---

Kara’s body sags into the lawn chair that she keeps on the rooftop of her apartment. There’s an area up there that she’s claimed for herself, right by the back corner just around the rooftop entrance. She’s glad for it, especially right now, while she stares out onto the other rooftops of her neighborhood with her powers blown for at least another couple of days. 

She lets out a big pathetic sigh, puffing out her cheeks, when she recalls how she got into this predicament. 

It had been a hectic day for Supergirl. A rogue missile headed straight for downtown National City coming at the heels of a drawn out fight with an invading alien group. She’d only had enough time and energy to redirect said missile, but not to release it and fly away in time. Shrapnel lacerated her suit and embedded itself into her flesh when she attempted her retreat while the fiery explosion singed the edges of her cape as she spun out of the blast radius. She was then propelled by the force of the explosion, nosediving at the precipice of consciousness into the cliff’s edge by the coast. 

She winces at the memory and the proceeding aerial footage that Brainy showed her where she collided with the side of jagged rocks off the side of a cliff, taking a chunk of it out. The worst part was when she’d startled awake the next morning, frantically searching for the date and time, realizing with a sinking heart that she’d missed the night she told Lena she’d return to her balcony. 

She hoped Lena would understand, yet when she had plugged her phone in, there were no messages from her. Kara frowned and tried not to let the silence between them affect her. But by the way she slouched back on the sunbed, she couldn’t quite shake off her disappointment. 

Now that she’s off-duty for a few days while she recovers, she requests to work remotely to spend the time researching just so she can finish hiding in her apartment. Well, at least for now, she’s hiding on her rooftop. It’s become a kind of oasis for her. Not just today, but for a few months now while she accepted their new normal and tried to navigate this Earth. She didn’t think it would make a difference, but when she brought up two foldable lawn chairs and a tiny round table to make a little sitting area for herself, it somehow made her feel less alone. 

These days, Kara will take whatever she can get. 

Her head lolls to the side when she observes a few birds walking near her before perching themselves on the cement ledge nearby. One of the birds flew up before dropping down on the cement ledge gracefully.

“Show off,” she mutters to herself. “I can do that, too, you know.”

The birds continue on disregarding her comments and her muttering. She is then interrupted by a buzz of her phone in the plastic cup holder section of her foldable chair. She considers not answering, Alex probably pestering her to get some rest like she’s not already doing that. But the idea of getting yelled at just doesn’t interest her, not when she's already feeling herself at her lowest, so she decides to pluck her phone out of the cup holder.

Her back straightens and eyes widening in unabashed surprise when she glances down at the message displayed on her phone screen.

Lena: Are you home?

She sucks her lips between her teeth, her thumbs hovering above the glass. She moves her finger and presses the call button.

It rings just once when Lena picks up.

“Uh, hi,” Kara offers lamely, cringing at herself.

“Hi.”

“I’m—did you need something?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“Alex told me what happened. I…I thought to bring you some food since I heard you’re not well. But if you’re not at home or don’t want company, I can leave the bag by your door.”

“Uh…no! I mean—you didn't need to do that,” she starts, scrambling out of her chair and rushing to the rooftop door before jumping down, taking the stairs two at a time and almost colliding with the stairwell wall. “You’re—that’s very nice, Lena…”

When her apartment door comes to view, she freezes mid-step. Kara’s gaze drops down to the bottom landing of the third floor and finds Lena, still dressed in her work clothes and hair done up in a loose bun, holding a plastic bag in one hand and her phone by her ear in the other.

“You're at my door,” she comments, stating the obvious, hearing her voice echo through the open phone line between them.

Lena smiles, the motion slight and lopsided.

“It would appear so.”

Gingerly, she steps down one step at a time, her eyes never once leaving Lena. Long seconds pass between them until she arrives by her front door, a measly two feet away from her visitor. 

Lena pulls the phone away from her ears with a smile before pocketing it. Kara mirrors her when she realizes she hadn’t hung up yet. Lena’s smile drops and her now empty hand reaches up but stops mid-air between them. 

Oh, right. 

“Looks a little gnarly, huh?” she jokes, an awkward grin on her face. Truth be told, she feels better than she looks. By tomorrow’s time, her injuries will disappear and fade, her face returning to its unblemished state. She remembers that very few people see her like this, and it’s with an ache in her chest she realizes that this is the first time that Lena has seen her in this state. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.” 

Lena slowly closes her hand into a fist and eventually drops it. She does her best not to feel disappointment at that. 

“Um, you—you had food?” 

It’s then that Lena lifts the bag she’s been holding, extending her arm out. “I got your favorites.” 

She accepts the bag, their fingers grazing with each other until she grabs hold of the bag, welcoming the weight of the food that’s inside. 

“Would you like to join me?” 

*

The rooftop door opens to a fresh breeze and the waning sun. 

She leads the two of them to her makeshift sitting area by the far end where a couple of birds have taken to loitering. They flap their wings and get away from the commotion of their presence and she sets the bag down by the table. 

Her eyes are drawn to Lena crouching down slightly and brushing the back of her skirt so she can sit on the lawn chair properly, sinking down until her knees are higher than her hips. 

Kara outwardly grimaces. “Sorry, I forgot that’s the saggy one. We can trade place—” 

“I’m fine. I don’t mind.” 

Kara watches her but silently nods and resumes taking out food from the bag and spreads them out on the table, filling every space on it. Unsure what to say or even how to speak to Lena, Kara then decides to take her time serving them their food. She passes a pair of paper-wrapped chopsticks to Lena who accepts it quietly before she peels her own, separating the wood with a snap. 

She senses Lena’s eyes trained on her, but she doesn’t flick her gaze up not once, instead focusing on taking the plastic lids off and turning it into a makeshift plate. She then serves up a portion of lo mein and a few pieces of sesame chicken before putting three healthy pieces of golden brown potstickers to finish out the plate. 

Kara finally looks up to Lena studying her. She offers a crooked smile and offers the lid-turned-plate towards the other woman who accepts it quietly, their fingers once again grazing against each other. She hurries and picks up the lid of the lo mein and serves herself her own plate, the portion smaller than what she normally eats when her powers are fully intact. 

For the next few moments, they eat in silence, the soundtrack to their early evening but the crowing of the nearby birds and the sound of distant traffic down on the streets. Every now and again, her eyes cast up to watch Lena as she digs into her own plate. The silence between them settles comfortably, like before. 

Before the distance between them, before her lies and betrayal, before Lena’s revenge. Before all the hurt she inflicted, they inflicted on each other. Before, before, before. 

Except they can’t ever go back to that world, to that life. 

As she catches sight of Lena chewing on a potsticker and eyes staring out onto the view from her rooftop, she thinks there are worse places to be and she’s fine exactly where she is. 

*

“Thanks for the food,” she says, breaking the silence between them, her lid-plate completely empty. “I appreciate you coming by.”

“Well,” Lena starts, leaning back on the chair, sinking further, her legs crossed at the knee. She looks comfortable this way despite the sharpness of her work attire. “I was promised a ‘something’ and I’m here to collect.” 

“I meant to come back.” 

“You were busy.” 

She chuckles at that. “A rogue missile can do that to you.” 

Lena tilts her head, as if studying her, and Kara does her best not to squirm under her watchful gaze. Then, Lena silently leans forward and stands from her seat, wiping away any minuscule dust or crumbs from her lap. Just as quietly, Kara tilts her head as she follows Lena’s every move. 

A gasp escapes her mouth, her brows jumping to her hairline when Lena extends a hand forward. 

“Let’s dance, Kara.” 

Her eyes drop to the offered hand in front of her. She looks back up again to an unreadable expression on Lena’s face. She gets on her feet, her legs slightly wobbly until she’s standing to her full height. 

Careful in her movements, as if Lena might take her offered hand back, Kara clasps their hands together and steps forward just as Lena steps back. 

“There’s no music,” she says. Lena simply quirks her brow before she reveals her phone in her other hand. Kara blinks, wonders how she could have missed that. 

“There’s always music.” 

Lena then presses play on her phone, the first few notes playing. Her brows crease together, her eyes quietly asking, but Lena just shrugs. They then get into position, Kara’s other hand on Lena’s waist just as Lena’s rests on her shoulder, her finger almost tracing the scabbing gash lines on the side of her face. Kara barely resists the shiver that runs down her spine. 

“I was watching Notting Hill last night because my schedule cleared up.”

She cocks her head slightly as the two of them begin to sway. “Didn’t take you much for a romantic comedy kind of viewer.” 

“In this world, I am.” 

She nods. “I like it.” 

The cool evening air breezes past them as they entangle themselves as they sway on beat to the song, their gazes stretching past each other’s heads. 

“What’s it like, not having powers?” 

She shrugs a little. “Like things are muffled, almost muted. I feel weighed down, like gravity’s working twice as hard to keep me down. It’s not unpleasant or anything, but it’s not a feeling I’m used to.” 

Lena nods, almost to herself, as she seems to take the information in. 

“I got worried when you never showed last night,” Lena says as she stares right up at her, her voice soft. 

She shakes her head, though, and pulls Lena closer, wants the other woman to make sure she’s looking when she says, “I wanted to be there, but I was out cold, apparently. I woke up this morning and panicked when I found out I’d missed it. Then when you didn’t contact me, I just thought you were mad at me.” 

“I thought you changed your mind.” 

Kara tilts her head up to find the blues of the afternoon sky having been traded in for the oranges and pinks. “As part of our pact of starting over, I think we should really improve our communication skills.” 

She then releases Lena so she can twirl her. 

“You’re not a fan of us assuming the worst of a situation or each other and internalizing it as a moral failing of ourselves?” Lena teases, exhaling a breathy laugh. 

“Lena, please,” she grumbles, a half-hearted attempt at suppressing her laugh. “Be serious.” 

She spins Lena twice until they come back together again, their fronts now pressed to each other, their faces inches from one another. 

Lena she turns her head until her chin rests on Kara’s shoulder. “We can stand to be better, I agree.” 

They move gently and loosely on the rooftop, Elvis Costello’s crooning voice filling the space around them and the National City city skyline just off to the distance. Finally, the last notes of the song play until Lena separates their hands and stops the next song from playing on her phone. Kara watches on as Lena walks towards the ledge of the rooftop towards the city’s skyline. 

It takes her a few drawn out moments to follow suit and stand beside Lena, her eyes trained on the twinkling lights of the city she saved just yesterday. 

“Kara.” 

She glances sideways, watching and waiting. Lena pivots her body so she’s facing Kara, green eyes bright and alive even in the blanketing darkness of the evening. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she breathes out, her warm hand on Kara’s forearm where a large gash sits. “I’m glad you asked me to stay for dinner. I’m glad…you let me in.” 

She places her own hand atop Lena’s. “Can I tell you that ‘something’ I promised?” 

Lena gestures with a nod, curling long, elegant fingers around Kara’s arm, like she’s trying to anchor herself to Kara, or maybe it’s the other way around. She’s not sure, but she doesn’t care either way, just that they are. 

“I want to rebuild our friendship first and foremost, and that’s what I’ll be focusing on. But I also…” she pauses, chewing on her bottom lip. When Lena looks on encouragingly, she takes a deep breath. “But I also hope that if you’re open to it, that it could someday lead to something…more.” 

“Something…more,” Lena repeats. 

“Yeah.” 

“What are you really saying?” 

Kara scratches her temple, adjusting her glasses on her face. “I’m saying that there are feelings that I’ve denied myself about you because I’d hurt you and then you’d hurt me. But they’ve never gone away, Lena. Not once. And if it’s alright with you, I don’t want them to.” 

When Lena doesn’t say anything, Kara’s confidence wanes and her mouth goes rogue. “But if you don’t feel the same way, if you don’t or c-can’t love me as more than a friend, then that’s fine, too. I’d never—that’ll never stop me being your friend or wanting to protect you.” 

“You love me?” 

“Without question,” she says, pressing forward as she tightens her grip on Lena’s hand. 

“What if you change your mind?” 

Kara’s heart tries not to bruise at the fear and apprehension in Lena’s eyes. 

“I won’t.” 

“How do you know?”

“I don’t,” she says with a helpless shrug. “But I know you.” 

Lena doesn’t say anything more, her eyes searching Kara’s face—for what, she’s not sure, but Kara won’t look away. Wordlessly, Lena twists her head to gaze out to the darkened horizon for a moment, and Kara prepares herself for the worst. She’s not prepared for the shine of tears in Lena’s eyes when she turns back to look at Kara. She thinks if she looked closely, she would find her reflection and the threat of her own tears. 

“I thought we’d missed our chance. After everything, I just thought—” 

It’s then she shakes her head, inches closer, her heart rapidly beating when she thinks about what Lena’s saying. “It’s still here, Lena. I’m here.” 

Lena lunges forward and Kara receives her in her arms, winding them around Lena’s middle, tightening her grip when Lena buries herself in the crook of her neck. They rock side to side in place as they simply hold one another, the city’s night sounds of National City buzzing around them. 

After a short while, they break apart, eyes searching for each other under the dim rooftop lights that Kara just now notices have turned on. 

“Okay,” Lena finally says, her voice watery, but strong. 

“Yeah?” Her heart sings and swoops when Lena bobs her head. “Okay, then. Um, do you wanna go downstairs and watch a movie or something?” 

Kara doesn’t move or breathe or do anything but watch as Lena brings the back of her hand and gently caresses cheek. “I’d love to, but I should head back home.” 

She resists the disappointment to wash over her and offers a genuine smile. 

“Let me walk you down.” 

They untangle from each other, Kara’s body practically vibrating as they clean up and march down the steps hand in hand. When they reach the front of her building, Kara isn’t surprised to find Lena’s driver already waiting. 

“When’s your next dance lesson?” Lena asks when she turns to face Kara once again. 

“Thursday at the Y. 7pm.” 

“Mind if I tag along?” 

Her face splits into a wide smile that she doesn’t bother hiding. “Never.” 

“Goodnight, Kara,” Lena says, leaning forward and pressing a small, chaste kiss on her cheek before squeezing Kara’s hand and letting go. “See you Thursday.”

Her response is to carefully dip down and place a mirroring kiss on Lena’s cheek. When she draws back, it’s to the image of Lena’s face soft and gentle, smiling up at her. 

The smile never disappears from her face as she watches Lena stride towards the backseat of her car, as she rolls the windows down and gives Kara a parting wave, as she rolls the window back up only after they’ve turned the corner.

The air around her swirls with hope, crackles with possibility, and she clings onto it all while she ascends the stairs two at a time to her apartment, humming the song of their earlier dance. This is just the beginning, a chance to make it count. 

So that’s what she plans to do.

[waltermis]

Stay, Stay, Stay

Summary: You & Natasha share a comforting moment

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader (romantic)

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NATASHA!! ❤️❤️

↠↠↠ 

Natasha sighed, cutting her peanut butter sandwich. She listened to Rocket, Nebula, and the rest of the remaining avengers argue from across the universe. It’s been five years since the snap. Five years since Thanos. Five years since the Avengers officially split up. Five years since she lost Yelena. Five years since everything… But no matter how much time passed, she couldn’t let this life go. 

“Carol, are we seeing you here next month?”

“Not likely,”

“What? You gonna get another haircut?” Rocket teased.

“Listen, fur face. I’m covering a lot of territory. The things that are happening on Earth are happening everywhere. On thousands of planets.”

“Uh, all right. All right. That’s a good point. That’s a good point.”

“So, you might not see me for a long time.” 

“All right. Uh well, this channel's always active. So, if anything goes sideways… anyone’s making trouble where they shouldn’t… comes through me.” Natasha stated, before Rocket, Okoye, Carol’s channels disappeared, leaving Rhodey. “Where are you?” she asked him.

“Mexico. The Federales found a room full of bodies. Looks like a bunch of cartel guys never even had a chance to get their guns off.”

“It’s probably a rival gang,” Natasha denied quickly.

“Except it isn’t. It’s definitely Barton… what he’s done here, what he’s been doing for the last few years. I mean, the scene that he left…I gotta tell you there’s a part of me that doesn’t even want to find him.”

“Will you find out where he’s going next?” she asked, taking a bit of her sandwich, tears filling her eyes, threatening to spill.

“Nat?”

“Please?” she asked, quietly. She looked so vulnerable, her eyes glassy and nose red from holding back tears.

“Okay,” he sighed, before leaving the channel.

Natasha sighed, trying her hardest not to cry. She missed him, Clint, he was her best friend. One of the first few people that truly trusted her. When she met Clint’s family, they welcomed her in with open arms. They were like her second family; finding out that they were blipped broke her heart. She couldn’t imagine what Clint was going through. 

‘God, this is a fucking mess.’ She thought, wrapping her arms around herself. Taking a bite out of her sad excuse of a sandwich, Natasha’s senses picked up the sound of wheels rolling against the hardwood floor. Natasha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, watching you hauling two big blue luggage, she’s never seen before, through the common room. “Moya lyubov’, where are you going?” You ignored her, continuing to grab the luggage’s outside. “Detka? Are you okay?!” Still nothing. Natasha began to panic; thoughts of you finally realizing that you deserved better clawed their way into her brain. “Dorogaya? Can we talk about this? Please!”

“Babe?” you asked, coming back. “What’re you doing in here? I thought you were gonna use Meeting room A today… W-why’re you crying?” you asked, wrapping her up in your arms. She didn’t even notice the tears that streamed down her face. 

“Please don’t leave me! I promise I’ll spend more time with you, just please don’t go…” she cried into your chest, her words muffled as she tugged you into her, her grip tight.

“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere,”

“Then why are you taking your luggage outside?!” she wailed, her nails digging further into you, afraid that you’d leave the second she loosened her grip.

“What? Those aren’t mine.”

“Huh?” she sobbed out. “Then whose are those?”

“They’re Tony’s, from when he and Pepper used to live here. They still have a bit of stuff here they haven’t moved to the cabin yet, he wanted me to finally bring it over for him.” you explained slowly, knowing that the lack of sleep was finally catching up on your redheaded girlfriend.

“Then what about you ignoring me?” she asked softly, her grip finally loosening.

“I was listening to music,” you showed her the air pods still in your ears. “I couldn’t hear you. I didn’t even know you were in here. I thought you decided to use one of the meeting rooms instead. You know I would never intentionally ignore you,”

Natasha nodded; her eyes grew heavier listening to the soothing sound of your voice. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.” she begged, tilting her head up to look into your eyes.

“I promise, there is nothing in this world that would make me leave you. Ever.” you promised, pecking her on the lips.

“I love you; you know that right?”

“Of course, I do, and I love you too. To Vormir and back.”

“Where’s that?” she asked sleepily, her head thudding on your chest again.

“Not sure… just came into my head.” you laughed, picking her up in your arms. You brought her back to your shared bedroom, placing her underneath the covers.

“Stay,” she said, grabbing a hold of your arm.

“Of course.” Bringing her into your arms, you placed a firm kiss on her head, letting sleep envelope the two of you.

↠↠↠ 

864 words

[msbigredmachine]

You Again - Flashback

A/N: A snippet of Evelyn and Joe in high school. I'm still completing Part 2 which hopefully should be up soon.

Warning: Themes of bullying

Word Count: 1.1k

READ PART 1 HERE

Escambia High School, October 2000

“Hey Evie!”

She is so startled she collides with her locker door, her books nearly flying out of her hands. It takes a couple of seconds to regain her bearings and realize who is standing in front of her, and it’s not anyone she’s expecting, certainly not the captain of the cheer team.

“Ayesha,” Evie straightens, awkwardly shoving her books back inside her locker and adjusting her skewed glasses. “Umm, did you…did you want something?” she asks, her arms crossed protectively over herself. They’re not friends - Ayesha has never hesitated to remind her of this - so she wonders why she is here, flashing a megawatt smile that one could mistake to be amiable. 

“So…don’t trip,” Ayesha begins, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “but I found your note in History class.”

For a second she’s confused, and then it hits her. Oh no. Oh god. She tries to play dumb, fighting the urge to look into her History textbook where she’d thought she’d tucked her little, ill-advised daydream away in one of its pages, safe from the prying eyes of the queen of the mean girls. “W-What? What note?” 

“The note you wrote, silly. I think you dropped it on the floor, you really need to be more careful, girl,” Ayesha giggles.

It’s a lie and they both know it. Evie wouldn’t be so stupid as to expose such damning evidence, let alone discard it haphazardly in class of all places. Her brain is working frantically, trying to figure out how on earth Ayesha got hold of it to begin with. Each student had to present their History paper in front of the entire class, and she suspects Ayesha swiped the note from her desk when it was her turn. It’s not hard to imagine the malicious glee in her eyes as she read the contents, not too different from the one she is trying and failing to hide right this moment:

Dear Joe, Would you like to go to the Fall Ball with me? YES   NO

“Okay,” Evie starts tentatively, treading lightly. “So can I have the note back? Please?”

Ayesha’s eyes widen dramatically. “Oh! I gave it to Joe. I saw his name on it. The note was for him, right?”

Evie feels her heart sink to Titanic depths, her insides heavy from the weight of this shattering news. The magnitude of the trouble she's put herself in brings tears to her eyes but she quickly blinks them away before Ayesha adds it to her ammunition. “Oh…I, uh…it wasn’t for…You’re mistaken, the note was for another Joe-” she starts to backtrack.

“Oh girl, there’s only one Joe in this school who matters and we all know who he is,” Ayesha dismisses flippantly. “Why you so worried anyway? I come bearing good news. He asked me to give you this.” She extends her hand, a piece of paper that looked torn out of a legal pad tucked between her fingers. Eyeing her skeptically, Evie takes it, her anxiety rising as she unfolds it and reads the familiar scribble:

Dear Evie,

Meet me under the bleachers at lunch.

Joe.

Against her better judgment, her heart flutters at his invitation, excitement bubbling inside her just knowing he responded to her. But common sense swoops in, and she stammers, shaking her head, “Look, I don’t…this isn’t necessary at all…Please, let’s just forget that any of this happened-”

“Girl, are you seriously chickening out on Joe Anoa’i?” Ayesha counters. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you and you’re turning it down?”

Evie makes one last throw of the dice, desperate to get out of this predicament. "But why are you doing this? Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"It's...complicated," Ayesha answers easily, placing a hand on Evie's shoulder. “Sweetie, any girl would kill to be in your shoes right now. Who knows, he might say yes. Are you really gonna throw that away because you’re scared?”

Terrified, actually. Not much good comes out of interacting with Joe Anoa’i when you’re not a member of his precious clique. But Ayesha is right. A private meeting with the most popular boy in school is too enticing to pass up, if only this once. So Evie forces herself to wait through the agonizing hour and a half before lunchtime, embroiled in thoughts of how their conversation will go. 

It turns out she should have trusted her gut, because the minute she steps onto the field, something feels off. 

Joe is not here. Outside is eerily quiet save for the muted bustling inside the cafeteria a few feet away. Chalking it up to him standing her up, Evie permits herself to exhale a huge sigh of relief and spins back towards the building, eager to forget all about the mess she almost made.

Then, it happens. Out of the shadows, they step out, seemingly from every corner of the stands. Jon. Josh. Ayesha and her lackeys, Kelli and Chichi. All of them emerging one by one until she is surrounded by his entire posse.

And last but not least, Joe appears like some kind of video game final boss. He steps between the twins, both of whom stare her down with the same demeanor as vultures circling over a carcass. He twirls her letter between his long fingers, his handsome face wearing a sugary sweet smile and a spiteful glint in his eye that strikes terror in Evie.

“So, Evie…I read your little message to me. It was…sweet. Real cute,” he says, coming closer to her, humored by the way she tenses as he towers over her. “I just have one question…” 

He gently trails the corner of the note along her cheek. The gesture would be considered as intimate if his eyes didn't harbor so much malevolence. “Did you really think my answer would be yes?”

The group bursts into laughter, the sounds cruel and taunting. Joe circles around her, regarding her with the same countenance as a piece of gum stuck underneath his Air Max sneakers. “What makes you think I’d ever wanna go to the dance with a nobody like you? Huh?” He throws an arm around Ayesha and kisses her cheek. "Babe, didn't you tell her you were going with me?"

Ayesha crosses her arms and shrugs with fake nonchalance, an even faker smile on her pretty face. "I wanted to...but it was much more fun fuckin' with her head."

She should have known better. Better than to write that shit in the first place. Known that Ayesha was setting her up from the start; known that standing her up or simply ignoring her was too merciful, too tame for Joe and his coven.

It’s beyond humiliating, and all Evie wants is for the ground to swallow her whole.

Ayesha steps up to her, angling her head low enough to catch Evie’s teary-eyed expression. “Awww, are you gonna cry? You gon’ cry bitch? You thirsty-ass pathetic loser?”

Ayesha's arms shoot out, shoving Evie so hard that she falls over, crying out as her knees collide painfully with the ground. Her glasses slip off her face and onto the cold dewy grass and dirt. Her tears splash onto the cracked lenses as they all step past her fallen frame, their cackles echoing in her ears long after they are gone.

--------------------------------------------------

Fun fact: A version of this incident happened to me in high school in real life. Only difference is I wasn't pushed. 😭😭😭

🏷️: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly  @tribalhoochie @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05  @harmshake @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01  @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @shes2real @trippinsorrows @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @femdisa @harlemblipster  @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @caramelcleopatraa @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc @paigereeder @christinabae @justazzi @maknaehyucks @mindairy @headoftheetable @truefant4sy @mscarter213 @ariiaeltheedonn @sageispunk @xbriexx @heauxvibez @trippinsorrows @romansthrone

[polaris-stuff]

Why do you hate Monty? (Just curious)

Oh anon, you just opened Pandora's box... (Again, this is the second time it's been opened on this blog!!!)

Let's start with the first few days, okay?

Watching Monty steal money was fun, his dynamic with Old Moon was fun, when did it all start to go down the drain? When Earth arrived. And by this I don't mean that it's Earth's fault, not at all! She's just another victim of this alligator.

Monty, upon seeing her, the first thing he said to her was "mommy" even though Earth showed his displeasure about it. He continually followed her around the place to ask her out (even after she told him that she wasn't interested in that at the moment). He gaslighted her and lied to her until she agreed to go on a date with him.

And after that, Monty, to this day, continues to lie to her on several occasions: he doesn't tell her that he continues to kill people, all the times he punched/pointed a gun at Sun, erase part of FC memory. I am 100% sure that Earth would never accept this kind of behavior.

Not to mention that Earth seems to be forcing herself to think that every single thing Monty does is funny (for example, Monty extorting Lunar and Earth laughing saying that it was funny when Sun and Lunar told her that it was not).

In short, Earth, my girl, open your eyes and realize that you have the worst partner in the world. You deserve better, Nebula is right there!

And obviously, all the shit Monty did to Nexus.

Not only did he admit to Nexus' face that he never liked him and that he always wanted to bring Old Moon back, he also electrocuted Nexus into unconsciousness and WITHOUT CONSENT entered his head. Nexus said no and Monty did it anyway, and by force.

And no, you cant excuse him with "but Monty did it to bring Old Moon back 🥺 it was for the greater good" Because if I had a medical problem and I told the doctor that I didn't want help anyway and they knocked me out to help me while I was unconscious, it is a violation of my rights and I can sue them. Nexus said no, and no means no.

Monty is an uncontrolled person, with anger issues who likes to get what he wants when he wants it regardless of how he has to get it, whether by killing, extorting, bombing, etc. He's an asshole and a danger to people around them.

[reveluving]

the bump in the night ; rick flag x reader

summary: someone made Mrs Flag cry, and her family is not having it.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, shadow-magic f!reader, reverse comfort & humour!

a/n: this AU is based on this piece I made a while back, 'cause you already know I can't do this special without hubby Rick and the kids! hope you enjoy it & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out my m.list for 'reve's quirky reverie 🕷️'!

'For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.' ;

Coming home to his daughter's hugs had become an everyday thing if Rick didn't have to work overtime, but if the flicker of sadness in her eyes was anything to go by, something had to have happened while he was away.

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” 

It was the same thing she told her brothers when they got home from school, and just like them, it was enough for Rick to get the whole picture.

Ah, Mrs Bedford. Or as the neighbourhood youngsters, children and teenagers alike, like to call her 'the modern witch of the road', and not in the cool way. Her husband was no better, always bugging you at any given opportunity. The worst part was Mrs Bedford always antagonized you for it, even if she knew you didn’t entertain her husband’s behaviour. It was also extremely hypocritical of her, considering she herself has tried to make her move on Rick. A lot. Only to be met with disappointment each time. 

Her children were just as bad, too, to put it lightly.

“What did she say?” It was the green light Irene needed before she explained what had happened to a T, courtesy of her father’s eagle eye. Unlike most days, it was just you and Irene visiting the park since your sons had football practice. 

The two of you were feeding the ducks when Mrs Bedford came up to you.

“You on your own?” Was the first thing she asked you before you questionably said ‘yes’, despite Irene being there too, and the little girl realized Mrs Bedford wouldn’t have gone off on a tangent about you and your ‘possibly tainted history’ if her father or brothers were around in the first place.

“I don’t know what you did but I can see it in your eyes, Flag. You’re no saint. You can fool the others with your little flower shop and your so-called angelic kids, but not me.”

Though Mrs Bedford knew nothing about your powers or your time in Belle Reve, instead, spewing hate out of jealousy and hatred for you for being the favourable neighbour, she wasn’t completely wrong. You have hurt people, you’ve even killed some, but they were for the greater good. Since your freedom from hell on earth, you’ve barely used your umbrakineses. It wasn’t until the birth of your children, to which all three of them gained your abilities did you realized you couldn’t run from who you really were—it wasn’t right nor fair to them.

Then, telling them your story as a criminal and how their dad was once your enemy was another thing. You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting, but it was certainly not amazement and sparkles in their eyes. As they grew older, they began to make sense of how their parents somehow knew people like Aunt Harley, Uncle Robert and hell, even Nanaue.

And at that point in time, Mrs Bedford reminded you of Waller, turning you into submission as you could do nothing but listen to her make a mockery out of you for turning over a new leaf. Irene had to watch your face drop as the woman insulted you, and she knew she had to tell her family about it. 

Irene insisted that she was fine about heading home early, even if you tried to convince her otherwise. She wanted nothing more than to do something about that glazed look in your eyes.

As soon as you stepped foot into the living room, a tear rolled down your cheek. You couldn't help but apologize to her, to everyone if they were with you then. You weren’t entirely sure if it was because you seemed weak over a bunch of words or their fate of ending up with you as the wife and a mother of their family.

Irene shook her head, hugging you with her face in your tummy.

"You're not a mean person, mama. You're the nicest and coolest mama we could ever ask for, and we love you." 

It was simple, something you've heard of thousands of times in your lifetime, but you very much needed it today.

Ever the sweet girl, she accompanied you as you lay in your bed, telling you random stories about what she painted during art class or what she ate at lunch, anything but the time Mrs Bedford’s son, Kyle pushed her off the swing while his older brother, Blake laughed and praised him for doing so. You didn’t need to know that. 

Not yet.

You listened with a warm smile, embarrassed but nonetheless thankful for how observant she was of your feelings before eventually dozing off. 

Irene was careful yet quick to jump off the bed, running downstairs to shush Richie and Ethan as they returned home. 

The more she explained, the brighter their eyes unnaturally glowed. Richie was starting to look like their father as he crossed his arms, listening to her like a police officer, while Ethan seemed like he was already thinking of ways to counter the Bedford’s undignified acts.

Basically, the Bedfords were not the greatest people. Each and every one of them. 

Though they had a myriad of ideas, they weren’t sure how much their father would appreciate it, even if it was for your sake. Still, they thanked Irene for being there for you, promising that something would be done, no matter what it would be.

For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.

After an unexpected nap, you came down to find your kids huddled on the couch, whispering and hushing each other. Curious, you approached them.

Ethan was the first to notice you, offering you a grin before showing you what was in their hands, “Look, ma, I think we got it.” 

You leaned in to take a closer look, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of life on their palms. There, they showed you the differing mass of shadows they conjured, a tougher one you just taught them about a week ago. You have always loved this trick as a kid, and it only aided your sanity when you were by your lonesome in the penitentiary. In a way, you were replacing what life truly was by making your own, even if they were temporary because there was no telling when or if you’d ever be free. 

Yet, here they were, prompting joy and pride as they held the wispy animals of their choice; Richie with what seemed to be an adorable little puppy, Ethan creatively emulated a bioluminescent jellyfish and Irene…

Oh, Irene.

She scarcely remembered how much you loved making her laugh by conjuring butterflies when she was still very little if not for the twins confirming it. 

The butterfly was as small as her hand, but the wings were majestic, idly flapping before flying over to you, leaving cloudy black trails and landing on your outstretched finger. 

You stared at their creations ever so lovingly, already on the brink of tears. You were just as mad at yourself for doubting your worth, and your potential, just because of the things you had to do in the past, for the sake of the person you were now.

You embraced Irene in a tight hug before pulling your boys in as well. You sniffled, absolutely joyous and blessed to be surrounded by the most loving people. Nothing could deter you from this, not even as the shadow puppy yipped and chased the jellyfish and butterfly in excitement. Your cat, Tofu, must’ve heard the commotion, too, as she came from the kitchen to check, only to be frightened and jump on the couch with you as the puppy came running to her.

Rick finally arrived about two hours later, coming home to hear laughter before he saw Irene running across the room, followed by Tofu and the shadow puppy in tow. The jellyfish laid on Richie’s head like a nest whereas the butterfly decided to make Ethan’s shoulder its home as they hung out with you on the couch.

“Daddy!” Irene greeted him before running over to him. He didn’t question the questioning look she gave him just yet and instead, hoisted her up, laughing as Tofu and the puppy pawed at his bootlaces.

“What’s going on here?” He raised his brows, amused by what could be described as a fever dream of a sight.

“The kids learnt how to make little lives.” You giggled, allowing Rick to sit next to you as you scooted over.

“And I got a new hat,” Richie gestured to the jellyfish, who he has now dubbed as Jelly. As if it understood, Jelly immediately floated away, leaving Richie’s hair flattened, “Never mind.”

You shared a laugh as he deadpanned before you turned to Rick, “Was work okay?”

“Yeah, the usual. Decorated the place today, actually.” He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery and showing you and the kids the spookily tacky decor that furnished his workplace.

“Did you really paint ‘dead inside, don’t open’ on the entrance door?” The twins gawked.

“Fitting, ain't it?” Rick joked, prompting smiles and chuckles from you once more before falling back on the couch, “But at least I’m off tomorrow, so I was thinking we could eat out for dinner.”

“Oh! We should head to Pop’s since they’re also offering their apple betty.” Ethan suggested.

“Well, I think that’s a good idea, so,” Richie trailed off, raising anticipation from the rest of you before jumping off the couch and running up the stairs. Ethan and Irene simultaneously gasped before the former took his sister out of Rick’s arms to chase their brother together. You and Rick could only watch with delight as Tofu and the shadow creatures followed them too.

“Everything okay?” He wanted to know, but he wouldn’t pry if you weren’t ready to tell him.

“Yeah,” You nodded, gazing down for a moment before continuing, “Something happened earlier but…”

“Richie! You better not lock the door or I swear to God!” Ethan’s voice rang out from upstairs, followed by Irene’s ‘language!’, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement. 

“It’s all good now.” You reassured him. You knew you could’ve told him, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on. You had children to nurture and a husband to take on the world with.

“The Bedfords?” He guessed. If it wasn’t them, then it had to be Mr Walker.

“The Bedfords,” You confirmed with a tight smile, “I’m just more upset that Irene was there to hear it.”

You didn’t explain any further and Rick took it as a sign to drop it. If they were able to make you this upset, then it was best to ask the kids instead. 

“I’m sorry,” He pulled you to his chest, planting a slow and gentle kiss on your forehead. He rubbed your back, sighing at the very mention of that family. Rick loathed that they were influential enough to be one of the higher-ups of the school’s PTA, though he was confident that money was involved in it too. He hated that they were reasons why you’d come home ranting about how Mrs Bedford bugged you again, or when he had to make sure Mr Bedford knew he was making a promise and not an empty threat whenever it involved their kids and his, "You know I can talk to them." 

It would do no good, but it was worth trying. 

"No, you know how the Bedfords are. Don’t worry, okay? Not now,” You kissed the inside of his palm before pressing your lips against his, soft, sensual and safe. Rick moved forward, deepening the kiss as held the nape of your neck. You pulled away but not before nuzzling his nose, “We should be celebrating.”

He nodded, though he knew it would only linger in his mind for a while. Still, he adhered to your wishes, standing up before offering you his hand to get ready, “Right, right. Shall we?”

You snorted, placing your hand in his the way a princess would when a prince asks for a dance. Unexpectedly, he twirled you around, wrapping his arms around you he pulled you in, chest to chest. You playfully smacked him, though it did very little to wipe off the pleased look on his face as the two of you headed to your room. 

You and the boys were the first to head out to the front yard, chatting and evaluating the decors of the houses while waiting for Rick and Irene. 

“What happened today?” He asked his daughter quietly as they stood at the front door, helping with her shoes while she slid on a jacket. 

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” She whispered back, swinging her arms as she watched her father tie her shoelace, “Like, really mean stuff. No one was around except us so she was kinda loud, too.”

Rick fumed, clenching his jaw as he could already hear and picture whatever nonsense she loved to spit out. 

“Mama got kinda quiet when we came home, and then she started crying. About how she’s sorry she was a criminal and how we’re ‘stuck’ with her powers.” She added. If anything, she and the boys thought your abilities were the coolest thing to have ever happened to them. 

He shook his head—who wouldn't crack after being subjected to their ways for so long? He hummed, hiding the seething resentment by ruffling Irene's hair.

"Can you help me distract your mother while I talk to the boys for a bit?" She nodded diligently, skipping over to you before Rick called out to his sons, "Need some help, boys." 

They rushed over, glancing at you before Ethan spoke up first, "She told you?" 

"Yeah." Rick replied as he locked the door.

"Can't we do something about it?" Richie asked with a frown.

"You boys are not punching Blake again." Rick reminded them with a small smile. 

"You didn't seem to mind it," Ethan mirrored his father's amusement, "He was yelling at our teammate and encouraged his troll brother to push Irene off a swing." 

"I'm mad, too," Rick was more than mad, but he couldn't let his emotions run wild, "Look, we'll think of something, alright? For now, just make sure she's happy." 

That's all they ever wanted.

The drive to Pop's was a lively one, and so was the dinner itself. Though you knew you'd be thinking about Mrs Bedford's words every once in a while, the smiles and laughter of your family were already a welcoming distraction as it is. 

Midnight rolled around, and everyone had returned to their rooms with sore cheeks and a full stomach. You were the first to slip under the covers after a shower, hoping you wouldn't be too tired as you waited for Rick, though it didn't work.

By the time Rick got out of the bathroom, you were peacefully asleep, your face just a breath away from your husband's pillow as his scent soothed you like no other. 

Rick smiled to himself, changing into his PJs before sitting on your side of the bed. The dip roused you from your slumber just a little.

"Rick?" You murmured, fluttering your lashes tiredly.

"Forgot to get some water," He caressed your cheek before bending down to kiss it, "I'll be back." 

You mustered a closed-eye smile and before you knew it, you drifted off once again, lulled by the way he patted your back.

Once the coast was clear, he moved off the bed, silently slipping out and closing the door before heading over to the twins' room. He knocked on the door, just enough for them to hear before doing the same with Irene's door and headed downstairs.

Rick sat down at the dining table with a glass of cold water, arms crossed and lost in his own thoughts before hearing light footsteps approaching.

Richie, Ethan and Irene carefully pulled their chairs back before taking a seat, and just like that, the discussion began.

But it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere and at some point, they just started shit-talking.

"Man, I wish coach would just kick Blake out." Ethan groaned, his head falling back. 

"Tell me about it. He's shit at quarterback." Richie clicked his tongue.

"Boys." Rick warned them, partially because his youngest was listening.

"Sorry." They apologized but Irene didn't seem to mind.

"How about…" She chimed in, tapping her finger on her chin, "We scare them?" 

"Like…?" Richie cocked his head, hoping she'd say more than just that.

"I don't know, I just thought it'd be cool since it's Halloween and stuff. And, well, maybe we could use our powers, but I know mama and daddy wouldn't want that." She shrugged, pouting because she hadn't thought it far enough.

"It would be a miracle to scare them without using our powers in the first place," Richie sighed, looking over to his father, "What do you think, dad?" 

No reply.

"Dad?" Ethan followed suit as the three of them raised their brows.

“How far are you in your shadow puppet practice?” Rick asked out of the blue, staring ahead as though imagining whatever idea he had played out. 

“Uh, pretty far, I think? Ma taught us how to merge our shadows into one if we wanted to make a bigger animal.” Richie answered, earning affirmative nods from his siblings. 

“How big?” 

“Like, this big!” Irene opened her arms wide to let him know just how big of a monster they would be able to make if they wanted to. They haven’t, there was no reason to, but the more their father asked, the more it piqued their interest.

Rick thought it through for a moment. It has been a while since he has seen you make that one particular lifeform, but it was worth a shot. If it were able to render Waller speechless, then it’ll definitely make the Bedfords piss their pants. 

No actual attacks, and definitely no killings. But he’ll make sure they shudder at the mere thought of Halloween. Put the fear of God in them. They had it coming, too, stomping on other neighbours’ happiness for years just for the fun of it. 

He just had to play it safe. 

He slowly broke into a sinister smile.

“You three ever heard of a hellhound?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: ahh hubby rick <3 ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[megistusdiary]

hello, this is the anon who sent the smoking w 2000s arle ask. I'm back with more brainrot

so, I've been thinking ab being her roommate.

the first time you saw her you kind of went into shock; how on earth did you end up living with someone like *her*??? she's tall, baggy black clothes draping on her slim, toned body only giving a hint of what lies beneath. you'd love to stare for hours, but her bright ruby eyes boring into your soul stop any hopes of that happening. the almost-scowl on her sculpted features is a little scary, but you didn't mind, quite the opposite in fact.

despite the instant butterflies she gave you, you never worked up the courage to properly speak with her. you of course shared greetings in the morning from time to time, agreed on cleaning and groceries when necessary, but it never got much further than that.

part of the reason for that, was the seemingly unending amount of girls she would bring home. you know you should be upset, but honestly, you just wish it was you. it's obvious she knows what she's doing, just from the sounds you hear through the thin walls, you so desperately wish you just had one chance with her, but your rational mind is well aware she's far out of your league.

that's what you think anyway. you don't realise it, but there's a pattern in the women arlecchino brings home: they all look rather like you. same hair type and colour, same wide eyes, and the same gorgeous smile.

she closes her eyes and she sees your face, hears your voice. she's absolutely whipped for you, and to be honest, she doesn't know what to do with all of these new feelings and sensations you give her.

she may seem frosty and aloof when you look at her, but when it comes to feelings, she crumbles. she knows you like her. she's seen the looks you give her when you think she isn't looking. thing is though, she's completely and utterly terrified of the way you make her feel. she's never been in a relationship before, and of course, she does the only logical thing: push those feelings down as far as she humanly can.

the two of you keep on like this for a few months, neither of you brave enough to change this precarious balance of a routine you seem to have built.

this state of limbo does eventually see an end though.

you're something of a recluse, often opting to spend your nights at home, busying yourself with your studies. one night however, you don't really have that as an option. you owe a favour to a friend, and she's decided to take the opportunity to have you come out to a campus party with her. she declares that you "need to have fun and get out more", and encourages you to "get laid". you don't know if you're interested in anyone but your gorgeous roommate, not enough to make the effort to hook up anyway.

you dress yourself up nicely regardless. it's true you don't get out much, so you figure you might as well doll yourself up for once. while the stares you feel once you arrive are certainly expected, you can't say you're a fan of the attention. you need a drink

a cup or two of something fruity, and you're feeling a bit better, tipsy enough to be a little giggly and bold, but not enough to do anything you'll regret tomorrow.

you sit in a corner, watching the action for a while. you aren't quite enjoying yourself, but the night hasn't been so bad thus far. everything flips on its head, however, when you see *her*. what is arlecchino doing here? it's no surprise considering how often she has nights out, but a part of you was hoping that you wouldn't run into her. you really weren't interested in seeing her charm another girl into bed.

the hole in your stomach only expands further when she walks over to you and sits herself next to you. she's blushed a little pink: she's had a little to drink too.

when you meet her eyes, the looks she gives you is something you've never seen from her, you don't think. her gemstone eyes meet yours, and they glint in a way that's alluring in a way you just can't look away from.

the two of you begin chatting, not really about much. it feels a lot easier when you've got a little drink in your system, though.

her eyes flit down to your lips a few times, maybe, you don't want to get too excited. the way she jokes with you could almost feel flirtatious, but you again, you don't want to raise your hopes too high. she moves closer and closer to you, until, all of a sudden, her dangerous eyes meet yours, dangerously close to meeting your lips with hers.

"baby, can I kiss you? I've haven't been able to take my eyes off you all night."

you barely have to breathe out a "yes" before her lips are on yours, and her calloused hands are on your sensitive hips.

she leads you up to a bathroom upstairs, and fuck, her fingers are like magic. you never thought a woman could take you that high with just her hands.

tomorrow it's going to be awkward as anything, but right now, with her lips on your neck and her hands scratching your thighs, you really couldn't care less.

oughhh ohhh thank you anon i love womanizer!arle

i'll be thinking about this today...

and, consider, the aftermath isn't so bad. you both get home, somehow, and she's put you in your bed, nice and snugly. she took your makeup off for you and fixed your hair, even if she was a little drunk.

i bet if you two confess, she's more than happy to take you out on a date. but she wants to do it right. she wants it to be perfect because she doesn't just want you to share her bed, she wants your heart 🤭

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Emotions Pt 2 | Sam Winchester x Angel!Fem!Reader

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Angel!Reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI 18+ ONLY!!!, cunnilingus, p in v (wrap it before you tap it), discussions of grief

Word Count: 3110

A/N: Hi! Trying to work on my requests to give myself a bit of an escape from what’s going on in my personal life right now. I am combining requests I was getting for a part 2 to my Sam x Angel!Reader fic with another request from much later in the queue, so I did have to jump around in the order of my fic requests! I hope that’s okay! 

General Writings Masterlist

Pt 1

If you thought humans were strange and intriguing before, being human was even stranger. Your existence had been predictable before you met Sam Winchester. And now, you were feeling and experiencing multitudes you hadn’t known to be possible. Navigating the full scape of human emotion was incredibly difficult and draining at times. Thoughts you’d never had emotion assigned to would cross your mind at random times of the day. And suddenly, you’d be sniffling and trying to control the tears forming in your eyes. 

Sam had gotten good at navigating these moments with you. He would talk about your feelings with you very openly and share some of his own. 

The first time you realized that Sam would one day die, possibly leaving you on earth alone, you were horrified. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, seeing you trying to hold back tears while staring at the ground. 

“You’re gonna die one day,” you said plainly. 

“Uh, yeah,” he snorted. “Yeah, I am.”

“It’s not funny,” you snapped, eyes flashing to his. 

He shook his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He sat down on the chair across from you. “Just caught me off-guard, ‘s all,” Sam replied. “What brought that on?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It just… came over me all of a sudden. Does that not scare you?”

He considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” you asked. 

“ ‘Cause somebody told me Heaven’s real—” he nudged your knee with his, making you huff out a small laugh— “and maybe I’ll get to see my mom. Actually meet her.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” you asked.

Sam stared at you for a moment. 

“You’re my best friend, Sam. What am I supposed to do if you die first?” you asked, eyes becoming glassy again.

“What you did before me,” he replied simply. “You just gotta keep going.”

“No offense, Sam, but you’ve been a complete mess without Dean.”

“That’s different. He’s my brother,” Sam said. 

Your gaze was soft, but it held intensity. So much so that it made Sam squirm beneath it. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I don’t think it’s different,” you sniffed. “I just think it’s— oh, what’s that word— grief.”

Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you. 

“And I think that because you know what you know, you’re convinced that there’s some way to bring him back. And because you can’t do it, you’re not allowing yourself to accept the grief. You’re just… kinda… stuck,” you finished. 

A heavy silence blanketed the air. 

“Y’know, for an angel with zero understanding of human emotion, that was pretty good,” the young man chuckled.

A genuine smile spread across your face.

****

Even with Dean gone, you could see Sam starting to heal. You hoped you played a large part in that. However, you were growing curious as to why you hadn’t heard the angels talking about Castiel retrieving Dean. What were they waiting on?

Ruby hadn’t shown her face, either, much to your surprise. You assumed she could feel that you were here and decided to make herself scarce. A wise choice on her part, if you did say so yourself. 

Sam’s demon blood addiction would sometimes cripple him. On those days where his withdrawals or cravings would get bad, you would sit on the couch or the kitchen floor with his head in your lap and allow him to cry or sleep until the pain subsided. Sometimes, he’d get angry with himself for not being strong enough to push through the affliction on his own, to which you’d remind him that not many humans survive demon blood addiction as well as he had.

“It fucking hurts, (Y/N),” Sam told you, shivering beside you. Sweat beaded at every pore, and his face was flushed. 

You held a wet rag to the back of his neck while he clutched at your knee.

“I know, Sammy—”

“Why didn’t you just let me have it? Maybe I could find Lilith if you’d just—”

You cut him off, trying not to get angry with him. “Sam, no.”

“—But (Y/N)—”

“No.” You pushed yourself off the couch and turned to sit on the ground so that you were eyelevel with him. “I will not let you do that to yourself again. Do you hear me?”

Sam grimaced with watery eyes, but he nodded. 

“I— I can’t watch that happen to you,” you said, tears catching in your throat. It was surprising to find yourself unable to express yourself evenly and coherently as you always had, but your emotion seemed to help you get through to Sam more. 

The other angels had no idea what they were missing. 

***

When you were an angel, you truly didn’t have an internal dialogue. And now, your mind was flooded with constant thought. Occasionally, it was burdensome, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

Before, all you had was experience and memory. It was as if you were entirely continuous with your environment, and you took everything around you at surface value. There was no internal reflection. 

“That’s called ‘sonder’,” Sam explained to you. 

“What is?” you asked, temporarily looking away from the river below you. 

You’d discovered a creaky, wooden bridge over a rushing stream on a walk through the forest with Sam. 

“What you just said. Realizing that everybody has their own experiences, and thoughts, and lives entirely separate from yours,” he continued.

You gently kicked your feet back and forth over the edge of the bridge with your arms crossed over the railing in front of you. Sam sat beside you, watching you. “Does it ever get overwhelming?” you asked him, thinking maybe you were the only one feeling so burdened by thought as a result of your new status as a human. 

“What?” Sam asked. 

“Feeling. Thinking,” you elaborated, unable to look at him out of fear that he may judge you.

“Yeah, frequently.” He nodded, a slight smile on his lips. “But, uh, certain things make it better.”

That caught your attention, as his tone sounded a bit loaded. “What things?”

He kept his gaze down but nudged your shoulder with his. “Certain angels.”

A wide smile spread across your face. “Certain Sam Winchesters make it better for me, too.”

He returned your expression. 

***

The fall months were upon you. The cabin you stayed in with Sam was where you first discovered what “warmth” was as you sat by the fire. Now, though, a different feeling encompassed you. 

It started slowly; ignorable, almost. First, small little bumps formed on your arms while you brought the trash out to the dumpster about a mile away from the cabin. Then, you felt like the wind was blowing through your body. You tried your hardest to ignore the feeling, but soon, it felt like your insides were shaking. 

It freaked you out, to say the least. And when you lifted the lid of the dumpster to put your trash inside, your fingers were blue. In fact, you almost couldn’t feel them at all. 

“What the fuck,” you muttered. 

Afraid of what was happening to you, you began running all the way back to the cabin. When you nearly broke the door down with your entry, Sam jumped to his feet. “Whoa, (Y/N), what the hell?”

You were panting, hunched over, and panicking. “Something— is happening…” you swallowed thickly, “to me.”

Sam rushed over to you, bending down to your level and tucking your hair behind your ear. “What? Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” you breathed out. You looked down at your fingertips and realized they weren’t blue anymore. “Wait, where’d it go?”

You and Sam both straightened up, and you continued to search your fingers for the discoloration. 

“Where’d what go?” Sam questioned. 

“My— My fingers were blue just a minute ago,” you explained. 

“Blue?” he repeated.

You nodded. “And my insides were shaking.”

A small smile began to pull at the ends of Sam’s lips. “Did you also have little bumps on your arms?”

Your eyes snapped to his. “How’d you know that?”

“You’re a seraph. You’ve been around for forever, and you got scared of the wind?” Sam asked. 

“The wind didn’t do that to me,” you said pitifully, “it’s never done that before.”

Sam laughed. 

“It’s not funny,” you pouted grouchily. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam continued. “You just got cold, (Y/N).”

You furrowed your brow. 

“Here,” the brunet continued. He opened the door for you, and you walked out of it hesitantly. The first of the Autumn leaves had fallen to the ground and crunched under your feet as you made your way out. 

Sam followed behind, and the two of you stood beside each other silently. You looked up at the trees rustling in the wind, and small wisps of your hair began to lift away from your face. And then, you felt the little bumps forming on your arms again. You looked down, a little less afraid this time. 

“See? Just the wind,” Sam explained. 

Then, a shiver ripped down your spine, and your body began to shake from the feeling. 

“C’mon, let’s get you inside,” he said. Once you were, Sam offered you the jacket that was laying on the back of a chair in the kitchen. You wrapped yourself in it while he continued to tend the fire. 

“It’s probably gonna get cooler tonight, too,” he explained, dusting his hands off and standing from the ground. “This room’s the only one with heat in it.” 

Your eyes widened in worry, as your shivering hadn’t stopped even with the jacket wrapped around you. 

Sam chuckled with fondness at your expression. “You can take my bed.”

“But won’t you be cold, too?” you asked through your clattering teeth. 

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about me.” Off your look, he continued. “Seriously. I’m kinda a human furnace.”

“C’mere, then,” you asserted. 

The brunet seemed caught off-guard. 

“Please?” you begged. “I’m still cold.”

Hesitantly, he sat on the couch beside you and opened his arms to you. You shuffled across the couch to where you were curled into his chest between his outstretched legs. Sam relaxed against the arm of the couch and wrapped his strong arms around you.

With a look that almost bordered on pleading, you pulled back from his chest and stared up at him. His eyes seemed to almost search your face before he began to lean down toward you. Feeling a sudden surge of confidence, you leaned up to press your lips to his. 

Sam immediately groaned at the contact, and you threaded your fingers through his hair while his hands explored the curves of your waist. When his hand grazed the underside of your breast, you took in a sharp breath. 

Immediately, Sam broke the kiss. “Is this okay?”

Without breaking eye contact, you grabbed his hand and brought it to your breast. An intense lust clouded his eyes, and Sam pulled your head back toward his while he kneaded your breast in his hand. 

Heat flooded your thighs, and you were a bit overwhelmed by the feeling. Your breath quickened as you allowed Sam to push your shirt up over your head. 

He broke the kiss again only to say, “Bed, now.”

You nodded eagerly, pressing your lips back against his. He took your legs and wrapped them around his waist. With you pressed so closely to him, you subconsciously began to grind against him as he carried you over to his bed in the corner of the room. He gently laid you on the bed and pressed his forehead to yours, panting. “You can’t— You can’t do that.”

“What?” you asked timidly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sam shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. “No, no, you’re fine. But I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you keep doing that.”

Hesitantly, you planted your feet on the bed on either side of his hips and began to grind up into him. 

A challenge in Sam’s eyes, he leaned back down to kiss you with an unrivaled passion. His hands roamed your torso, careful to avoid the band of your sweatpants. Gently, he ran his hands along the band of your bra. “Can I take this off?”

You nodded feverishly, breath quickening. As soon as he’d gotten it off, Sam began to kiss down your chest while kneading your breasts in his hands. He continued to kiss down your stomach, nipping at the soft flesh every once in a while. When he was eye-level with your clothed pussy, he asked, “Can I take these off?” running his hands over your clothed hips. 

You nodded, but Sam could tell something was wrong. “What is it?” He straightened up. 

“I’ve just never done this before,” you said honestly. 

“It’s okay,” Sam told you. “If you wanna stop, we can stop.”

You quickly shook your head “no.” “Don’t stop, please.”

He chuckled and began to take your sweatpants and underwear down your hips slowly, teasingly. 

“Please, Sam,” you said. “I don’t know what this feeling is, but I need you here.” You took his hand and brought it near your throbbing cunt. 

He took in a sharp breath, almost seeming unable to contain himself. “Can I touch you?” he asked. 

You nodded eagerly, and he pulled your hips closer to the edge of the bed before dragging his fingers through your folds. You keened while his long, thick fingers circled your clit. He then pulled your thighs toward his face and dove between them, lapping at your clit like a man starved. Your hands flew to his head, and he grabbed them, lacing your fingers together. Sam held your hands on either side of your body, gently stroking them with his thumbs in contrast to the fierceness he was eating you out with. 

“God, Sam!” you cried, grinding your hips into his face. That simply spurred him on more. 

Suddenly, what felt like a knot began to form in your lower stomach. “Wait, Sam,” you said, as the knot began to tighten. 

He pulled away from you, bringing his fingers back to your clit while he crawled over the top of you. “Uh-huh?” he asked. 

You continued to grind down onto his fingers, closing your eyes at the pleasurable feeling. “Something—” you bit your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out, “Something’s happening.”

Sam smiled. “Don’t worry, okay? It’s normal.”

You nodded breathlessly. “Okay.” 

Then, he started to insert his middle finger into you, pulling a sharp breath out of you. 

“I know,” he coaxed you. “But I gotta get you ready for me, okay?”

You nodded. 

“Words, (Y/N/N),” he asserted. 

“Okay,” you said shakily. 

Sam inserted one finger, and then, another. He began to move them in and out of you while putting pressure on your clit with the heel of his hand. The feeling was overwhelming, and you tried to close your legs around his hand. However, you were stopped by his body between your legs. 

The feeling continued to build and build, and you couldn’t hold back your cries anymore. A string of moans and curses left your mouth. 

“Just let it happen, okay? I’ve got you,” Sam told you. 

You nodded. 

“Words,” he demanded. 

“Yes, god, yes,” you replied. “Don’t stop,” you begged. 

He scissored his fingers inside of you, pushing you over the edge. The knot in your stomach snapped, and your core began to throb around his fingers. 

“God, Sam!” you cried out. “Fuck!” 

As your breathing began to slow, he asked, “You okay?” You nodded. “Yeah,” you breathed out. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he smirked lopsidedly. 

You looked down at the bulge in jeans, and you looked up at him wantonly. 

“No, no, this isn’t about me,” he told you. 

“But I wanna make you feel good,” you whined. 

“You already are,” Sam told you. 

You leaned up to pull his face down to yours, kissing him again to convey everything you felt for him in that moment. You helped him out of his jeans, and once he had a condom on, he began to line himself up at your entrance. 

“You sure you want this?” Sam asked. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “Please, I need it.”

Slowly but surely, he began to push into you. He put his elbows on either side of your head, allowing you to curl your nails into his back with the pressure you were feeling inside of you. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s uncomfortable,” he told you.

You shook your head, bringing your hands to either side of his face and kissing him deeply. Sam used that opportunity of distraction to push himself all the way inside, causing both of you to moan into each other’s mouths. 

Once he’d ensured you adjusted, he began to thrust into you. Sam’s movements were slow and deep, allowing you to feel every inch and ridge of his cock. You closed your eyes and dropped your head back in pure euphoria as he began to pick up his pace, bringing both of you closer to your climaxes. 

When you felt the knot beginning to form in your stomach again, you brought your hand to your clit and rubbed circles over it. Sam, having none of it, pushed your hand aside and mimicked the motion himself, allowing you to rake your nails up and down his back. Between the feeling of him thrusting inside of you and the pressure on your clit, the knot inside you snapped. 

With a keening cry, you moved your hips in time with histo ride out your high while Sam rode out his. The two of you breathed heaving breaths, allowing time for both of you to come down.

When the both of you were cleaned up and thoroughly spent, Sam held you against his chest while you drew invisible patterns on his upper chest. 

With a smile tugging on the ends of his lips, Sam asked, “You still cold?”

Taglist for Emotions:

@slutforfictionalcharacterss @criminalmindsiscool @littledebbieinabigworld

Forever tags are open; Series Rewrite taglist is closed!! :) Requests are open!

[willalove75]

Alcina request - reader does labor while she watches from the shadows (or maybe her balcony) + nsfw thoughts of reader. Y/n is cutting wood for the fireplaces so the maids can keep the castle warm for the daughters <3

Love this!! Thanks so much for the request!!💕💕

Lets get into it!!

Warnings: masturbation

18+ Only Minors DNI

The morning sun was low in the sky on this chilly Sunday afternoon. Fall has begun to give way to winter so the Dimitrescu girls have been locked inside of the castle until spring.

Lady Dimitrescu is sitting at her vanity wrapped in one of her robes fixing her hair. In her head she's going over all of the things that need to get done, deciding which tasks on her to-do list can wait until tomorrow. It's not often where the Countess gets a day to relax so when the opportunity arises, she does what she can to take advantage of the situation.

*THWACK*

The Lady is pulled from her thoughts when she hears the sound. Pausing for a moment she goes back to the list in her head.

*THWACK*

She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to remain calm.

*THWACK*

Bringing her fingers to the bridge of her nose she prays that the noise outside her bedroom window stops. She doesn't hear the noise for a few seconds and picks up her teacup.

*THWACK*

Lady Dimitrescu all but slams her teacup down and walks over to the windows.

*THWACK*

Unable to see where the sound is coming from, she steps out onto her terrace and looks down. She's taken aback when she sees you raising an axe over your head driving it down and splitting a piece of wood.

*THWACK*

"What on the black gods green earth is she doing?" She mutters to herself.

Unless you work in the kitchens or are assigned to other important roles, usually all maids have off on Sundays to do what they please. Most make their way down to the village or spend time in the maids quarters. Some venture out to the library but for the most part the maids keep to themselves and relax. Watching you outside, in the cold, splitting wood on a Sunday morning was definitely out of the ordinary.

The cold air felt good on your heated skin as you chop the wood. You noticed that the wood pile was running low and the temperature was supposed to drop pretty drastically tonight. The girls, Bela, Cassandra and Daniela, can be hurt by the cold, killed even. It was something you learned early on when you started working at Castle Dimitrescu. In the late fall and winter all windows are to remain closed and every fireplace must be attended to. There's a few maids who are assigned the task but when you mentioned it to them this morning they waved it off and said that it was a problem for tomorrow and headed out to the village. It was something that rubbed you the wrong way, first of all, their tasks weren't complete. Secondly, it's not like running out of firewood would be harmless, it could kill the Countess' daughters. Yes, they were a lot to handle, a lot, but you couldn't understand why the maids thought it was okay in the least to even risk running out of firewood, especially when it's supposed to get so cold outside tonight. So you took it upon yourself to chop some wood, it's something you've done before, but haven't had to do often. You know you're going to be sore tomorrow but in your eyes it's worth it.

Chopping a few more logs you start to sweat more. Glancing around quickly you don't see anyone around so you pull your long sleeve shirt off and toss it aside leaving you in your pants and your camisole. For a moment the cold air bites at your exposed skin but the chill cools you off so much that it's refreshing.

Alcina watches you as you lay the axe against the stump you've been chopping the wood on. She's relieved for a brief second thinking that you're finished until you pull off your long sleeve shirt, wearing just a camisole underneath it. Watching you as you wipe the sweat from your brow, you grab the axe, put another log on the stump, raise your arms and swing.

*THWACK*

When the Countess was looking for a new handmaid you were in the running for the position. She ended up choosing another maid but now she can't quite remember why she didn't chose you. She is captivated as she watches you, she watches the muscles in your back and shoulders move with each swing, how the beads of sweat make your skin glisten in the morning sun, your strong arms, your delicate wrists. She pictures herself pinning your wrists above your head with your back against the wall. She lights a cigarette and closes her eyes, deeply inhaling, exhaling through her nose with a low growl.

*THWACK*

She opens her eyes again and watches you toss the logs onto the pile you've made so far. You've managed to chop a decent amount of wood for the short amount of time you've been out here. Deciding that a few more should do the trick, at least until tomorrow when the person who is supposed to keep the pile stacked refills the rest.

Lady Dimitrescu's attention is pulled away from you when she hears a small knock on her door.

*THWACK*

She turns and goes back inside, the door closing behind her.

Tossing the wood into the pile you see something out of the corner of your eye. Looking up you see the door to the Lady's terrace shut and movement in the window. The morning sun rays are reflecting off of the window too much for you to be able to see inside but you could have sworn that it was her. You begin to pick up the logs and bring them to the pile. Stacking logs in your arms, you go inside and start placing small piles near the fireplaces that are running low.

"Enter." Lady Dimitrescu says, taking a seat at her vanity.

Her new handmaid, Maria, comes in. A tray in her hands with a fresh pot of tea.

"Good morning my Lady."

"You can leave it over on the table." She says, waving in the direction of the table.

*THWACK*

"Is there anything else you need from me, my Lady?"

*THWACK*

Turning her head towards the sound once more Lady Dimitrescu takes a moment before she responds.

"Why is that maid chopping wood outside? I don't believe that is her assignment."

Walking over to the window Maria sees you.

"Oh, yes I saw her speaking to the maids this morning about that. She was gathering wood to tend to the fireplace and noticed that the pile was running low and when she talked to the girls that are responsible for keeping it stocked, they brushed her off and went down into the village. They said that's a 'tomorrow problem.'"

Lady Dimitrescu's eyes narrow at Maria.

"Do they know how cold it's supposed to get tonight?"

"Yes my Lady, y/n had mentioned it."

"And they know my daughters are susceptible to the cold? That it could very well kill them?" She says through gritted teeth.

"I'm not sure my Lady," Maria says nervously. "I don't want to assume, but given their assignment and the fact that every maid is made aware of that, I don't know how they don't."

A growl erupts from Lady Dimitrescu's chest, an anger bubbling inside of her. How can they not care about her daughters safety? About their lives when they were assigned to do the one task that keeps them safe.

"When the maids left, y/n took it upon herself to restock the wood pile, to at least have enough to last through the night." Maria says.

"Very well. That's all." The Countess says, dismissing the maid.

Lady Dimitrescu goes back to the window to find the axe laying against the stump, the logs you cut and the shirt you discarded gone. Her mind wanders back to the sight of you chopping wood. Your glistening, blemish free skin, how she would love to sink her teeth into it. How strong your back and arms looked as you wielded the axe above your head. Your beautiful face, your strong legs. A familiar feeling begins to develop between her legs deep in her core.

She's not sure if it's because of the fact that she hasn't been satisfied in a little while or because of how you looked out there, or because of how you went out of your way to make sure her daughters were safe. Or perhaps it was all of the above. All she knows is that if you were in front of her right now she would throw you onto her bed and ravish you.

The ache in her core grows so she decides to take care of herself before it gets too out of hand.

Making your way through the castle you replenish the wood in the library, the sitting rooms, and each of the girls bedrooms. You decide to take the last stack to the Lady's chambers since you had extra and her room was nearby.

Laying on her bed, her nightgown tossed aside, the Countess works her fingers in and out of herself, replaying the image of you in her head over and over again. Her other hand massages her breast, rolling her hardened nipple between her fingers. Just as she's beginning to feel her orgasm build there's a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" She asks, annoyed that she was interrupted.

"It's y/n, my Lady. I have extra firewood if you need for your room."

Lady Dimitrescu gets up and pulls her robe on, loosely tying it around her waist so she's covered, but open enough to leave little of her chest to the imagination.

The door opens and you look up to see the Countess. You have to snap your mouth shut when you look up to see her in her robe, her large breasts barely covered.

"Enter." She says standing aside. You walk into her room and place the wood next to her fireplace. The click of the door closing gets your attention and you turn to see the Countess slowly walking towards you, like a predator stalking its prey.

"Was that you I saw outside chopping wood this morning?" Her voice is stern.

You stare at her speechless. She did see you. You're not sure if you're afraid or aroused or both.

"Speak pet. I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Y-yes, my Lady."

"I heard you alerted the maids whose responsibility it is to keep the wood pile stocked that it was running low and that the temperature was going to drop significantly tonight, when they did nothing, you took it upon yourself to do another maids work. Is that correct?"

You're fucked, she's pissed, you know it.

"Yes my Lady." You say, your voice barely a whisper.

"Why?"

"Be-because I know the cold can be dangerous to the Ladies of the castle and I-I didn't want any harm to come to them."

You're convinced that she's going to end you right then and there.

"How sweet of you, my little pet." You're taken aback when you realize how soft her tone is. Expecting her to be condescending, you don't sense a hint of it in her voice. She steps up to you, her golden eyes boring into your soul. "Would you like your reward?"

"Reward?"

"Of course, you spent your day off doing physical labor to keep my daughters safe. What kind of Lady would I be if I don't offer you a reward for all of your hard work and dedication?" You stare at her blankly, unsure of what to say. "I'll give you a few options then. You can either take extra vacation days, receive a monetary reward, or, another special reward." Her long fingers dance along the edge of her robe, down her sternum, between her breasts. She pulls the robe open just a touch more and her fingers come to rest at the loosely tied knot at her waist. "So pet, what will it be?"

You feel like you're hallucinating, there's no way this is happening. Of course you've admired the Lady from afar, almost every maid has. But to have her offer you herself as a reward? Did the axe smack you in the head?

Lady Dimitrescu leans forward, her face just inches away from yours. Your eyes flicker to her breasts hanging in front of you, barely covered by her robe anymore. Her gold eyes steal your attention and you notice her pupils dilating.

"Which reward pet? I already told you once, I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Sorry my Lady." You say quietly. "Um," you want to say the special one but suddenly you feel horribly embarrassed. "I-I" Your cheeks turn a dark red that rivals the lipstick painted across her full lips.

"Cat got your tongue?" She teases, her voice low and velvety. The only thing you can do it nod. "Is it the vacation you want?" You shake your head "no." "The money?" Again, you shake your head "no." She smirks, analyzing your face. "Is it the special reward?" You shake your head "yes" this time. "Use your words little pet."

"Y-yes, my Lady. Please."

"Excellent."

She places her hand on your chest and pushes you against the wall in one swift motion. The air gets pushed out of your lungs when you're slammed against the wall. Lady Dimitrescu wraps her hand around your neck and lifts you up against the wall until you're eye level with her. To your surprise, she hasn't cut off your airflow, holding you tight enough to effortlessly lift you, but not enough to choke you. Her knee parts your legs and she presses it up into your core, a whine escaping your lips when you feel her push into you.

She releases your neck, keeping you pinned against the wall with her body weight and her leg. Grabbing your wrists, she pins them above your head against the wall with one of her hands, her other hand firmly grasping onto your waist under your shirt. Her lips brush against yours, you can feel her hot breath on your face. You feel your core begin to throb and hope she doesn't feel it against her leg. Lady Dimitrescu closes her eyes and inhales deeply, she can smell your arousal. Her pupils are blown out when she opens them, the corner of her lip curling just a little.

Her hand under your shirt leaves your skin and she brings two fingers to your lips. Parting them, she slides them into your mouth. Your eyes widen when you taste them, something on them, were you tasting her?

"I was in the middle of something when you knocked on the door. As disappointed as I was to be interrupted, I was happy to see that it was you. I'm sure you can taste what watching you out there did to me. How lucky am I that now I get to have you all to myself?"

She pulls her fingers from your mouth. You're only able to let out a small whine before her fingers are replaced with her tongue. She pulls back with your lower lip between her teeth, pulling a moan from your lips as she does it.

"Now I get to do all of the things I fantasized about."

[cordeliawhohung]

Sun Bleached Flies - Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part ten of "soft spot"

Healing never comes as fast and easy as you want it to, but you try and adjust to your new life as best as you can. The thing is, there is no going back, there is only going forward, no matter how much you wished it was otherwise.

warnings: PTSD, angst, minor comfort, panic and anxiety attacks, spook and simon are going through it.

wc: 6.6k

A gentle breeze danced through the open window of his therapist’s office, bringing the scent of spring with it.

Moist grass, a hint of rain, freshly bloomed flowers; all hints of something new being born. Except this wasn’t new for Simon. Sitting in an overly calm and quiet room in a chair that was too soft as a man who looked too ancient for this earth flipped through notes of their previous sessions. 

This wasn’t Simon’s first time in therapy, and he was certain it wouldn’t be his last. After everything he had endured over the winter, he was required to attend sessions before he would be allowed to return back to active duty. He had only started a few weeks ago, as most of his energy and time had gone into taking care of you, but once you were well enough to go back to work, well, it was time to take care of himself. 

“How was your week, lieutenant?” the man spoke up after finally putting his notes down. His name was Gus, and was ex-military. Or, at least Simon assumed he was, judging by the deep and long wrinkled scars that littered his face and the unceremonious use of his rank. “Anything new?” 

“It was alright,” he answered bluntly. He was never quite good with the awkward small talk that came with therapy. Something about how he was supposed to bare his darkest secrets just to talk about the weather was unnerving. “Spook started physical therapy this week.” 

Usually, Simon never used that nickname Johnny coined for you, but ever since you were taken, he felt as if he couldn’t use your real name. That sharing anything about you was forbidden. Or maybe he was just being selfish, wanting to keep you, even your name, all to himself. 

“At least she’s in some sort of therapy,” Gus said dryly. “She still refusing counseling?” 

He nodded solemnly. “Says she doesn’t think she can talk about it yet.” 

Gus grunted a little as he sat forward in his chair. A pair of frail and shaky hands reached up to remove the oversized glasses on his face before he settled his foggy eyes back on Simon. “Does she talk about it with you?” 

“Tries,” he responded sourly. “She used to talk so much about everything; everything except for whatever was hurtin’ her. Always thought she’d tell me eventually, whenever she was ready. But after this shit? I’m fuckin’ lucky to get anything out of her. Even the good stuff.” 

Instead of prompting him with another question, Gus stayed quiet as he stared at Simon, and he knew what it meant. That man must have been in the business of fixing broken soldiers for quite some time because it never took him long to figure out what was bothering him. Always struck gold on the first shovelful of dirt. Might as well make things easy and give up the rest. 

“Everything that I’ve learned about her past I’ve had to piece together myself,” Simon explained. “Her moms passing she told me herself, but I know her previous partner was a right piece of shit. Judging by the way she hardly ever talks about her father, he probably was no better. She hasn’t told me anything about when she was taken, or what they did to her. There’s some stuff I can figure out. God, there was fuckin’ photographic proof on the damn floor.” He paused for a moment and shook his head as if trying to get his thoughts back in order. “She tries but then just shuts down and I… fuck, I dunno.” 

“And what have you told her?” Gus asked as he leaned back in his chair. 

Eyebrows drawing together and cheeks scrunching under his mask, Simon tilted his head to the side. “What?” 

“I mean, what have you told her? About your past, or your family? Are you making her play the same guessing games?” Gus pressed. 

A lump formed in Simon’s throat so thick he thought he would choke on it. He wanted to say that sharing his past was different. How was he supposed to talk about the torture he endured, the hook tearing through his ribs, the slaughter of his family? How their deaths were pinned on him, and he burnt away the evidence of them; what would you say to that? Or if you knew about his revenge, how he traversed a jungle just to kill a man? 

He grimaced. Hadn’t you already seen his revenge? 

“You’ve been pretty open with me so far, lieutenant, and that’s a lot more than I can say for most of the men I see in here,” Gus continued, “so tell me; what is it that you’re really afraid of?” 

Really, therapy wasn’t all too different from being interrogated. In both circumstances, there was someone trying to poke and prod around inside of his head. And in both circumstances, it was never fun when they poked the right spot. 

“I don’t want her to think I’m like them,” he finally admitted. 

“Her abductors?” Gus clarified. “Why would she think that?”

“I broke a man's arm and shot him as I had him pinned to the ground. Right in front of her,” Simon explained as if he saw Bukin dying all over again. Heard the bone snap and the crunching sound of his flesh grinding underneath his boot. Watched as his head jumped dully against the ground as the bullet tore through his skill. 

“You saved her life,” Gus countered. 

“I was violent,” he spat. 

“So were they.”

“I’m supposed to be better than them.”

“If you were better than them, she’d be dead, son.” 

Silence. The breeze continued to drift through the open window, attempting to kiss Simon’s flesh through his clothes, too kind for him to be deserving of it. He continued to stare through the old man as he waited for him to explain himself. 

“You brought her home alive. You know better than anyone that being soft comes with consequences. Some good, some bad. Be violent, be a monster; be Ghost in the moments when you’re doing your job. When you’re protecting the ones you love.” Throughout his last few weeks of therapy, Simon hadn’t heard the old man speak with such conviction until that moment. Like the man spoke from experience. “Be soft when you’re with her. Share the stuff that hurts. It sounds like you’re the closest person she has. Certainly the strongest. How is she supposed to be vulnerable with you when you’re the one who’s scared?” 

The thing Simon hated the most about therapy was hearing things he already knew but was trying to ignore. Everything would have been so much easier had he let you ramble that night the oxycodone had scrambled your brain. But it was his fault things had gotten that way in the first place. That picture of you that he kept despite his better judgment, leading Bukin right to your door; that was his fault. Selfish of him to hope that you’d be the one vulnerable first as if he didn’t have something to atone for.

Simon let out a heavy sigh as he looked down at his hands. The old man was right, and it was frustrating. “Christ,” he muttered. 

“Start with the small stuff. You don’t have to air everything out all at once. Actually, it would be better if you didn’t. Don’t want to overwhelm the poor girl,” Gus assured him. “Remember, she’s a civilian. She didn’t have the resources and training that you did going into that.” 

He didn’t spend much longer in that office before Gus sent him away to do his homework: figure out a memory to share with you. Sounded easy enough, but when he had spent countless years keeping things to himself so as to keep others safe, it was near painful. But he tried his best to think of something as he made his way back to the apartment. 

You weren’t there when he got home. Not that he had expected you to be, though it still felt wrong. As soon as your wound was no longer needing constant attention, you instantly hopped back into work. He tried to dissuade you from doing so, saying that he’d still have more than enough money to pay for everything, but you wouldn’t hear any of it. Claimed you were tired of being locked up in the apartment all day, even if he was there with you. Though it worried him, he couldn’t blame you, not after everything that had happened there. Every now and then he still found a small, green bead somewhere on the living room floor. 

A sigh left him as he stood in the entryway, staring at Boo who watched him curiously from the couch. The window had been left cracked open, and it looked like the little guy had been enjoying some fresh air. Simon tried to tell you that leaving the blinds open was just asking for someone to snitch that you had a cat in the apartment. You had retorted by saying boarded up windows made for a shitty home. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled to himself. 

This was going to be a pain in his ass. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“This guy is getting on my fucking nerves.” 

That was the fucking understatement of the year. Méabh lazily leaned against your desk as she glared over at the new branch manager they had hired during your absence. His name was Jace, and he liked to spend his time at work micromanaging all of his employees, including Cheryl, who was able to wire money with her eyes closed after so many years in the business. The poor woman looked like she was one more annoying comment from smacking the overbearing manager. 

“He told me I didn’t ask enough security questions on the last transfer I did as if I didn’t ask all the ones that popped up on the screen,” Méabh continued in a droning grumble. “I wish Anna was still here. She did her job and wasn’t a complete cunt about it.” 

“Just be glad that you only work part time,” you teased while trying to focus on your paperwork. 

“Yeah, for now,” Méabh whined. “I’ll be going full time over summer holiday. Means I’ll get to see this prick twice as often.” 

Really, it wasn’t Jace’s hawk-like gaze, or even his annoying nasally voice that got on your nerves. It was his shoes. While most of the girls at the bank wore flats to save themselves from achy feet, Jace wore terribly loud dress shoes. Whenever he walked, it sounded like he wore high heels with the way they clacked on the floor, and with how much he stomped around it was impossible for him to sneak up on anyone. 

“Are you almost done?” Méabh then prompted. “I wanna get out of here.”

“You don’t have to wait for me, you know,” you chuckled. 

“Thought I’d do the noble thing and keep you company. You know, unless you want Jace to read over your paperwork before you submit it,” she retorted with a playful roll of her eyes. 

“How kind of you.” 

Luckily for Méabh, or perhaps the both of you, you had just typed up the finishing touches to your work. Not even a minute later the whirring of your computer died down as you shut it off for the night and stood from your desk. However, you made the mistake of pushing with both your hands, and you winced as a zapping pain shot through your left shoulder. Even after all those months, your wound hadn’t fully healed. 

“You alright?” Méabh asked as you gathered your items. 

“Yeah,” you said, slightly winded. Glancing quickly over at Jace, and poor Cheryl who was still stuck listening to his ramble, you looked back at the young girl before nodding towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.” 

Without saying goodbye, or saving your co-worker, you and Méabh slipped out of the building unnoticed and into the fresh spring air. Or, at least as fresh as it could get in the midst of London. It had been months since you last smelt real fresh air. When had it been, back at the end of August when you and Simon had gone on holiday? With the beautiful seaside and mist that tasted like salt? Or was it…

No. No, that couldn’t be right. 

“Need a ride?” Méabh prompted. 

You pulled your head out of the frigid water, dusted the sand off your knees, and smiled politely as you adjusted the blazer that perfectly complimented your pristine work clothes. You always had a way of bringing yourself back to reality if it meant avoiding an awkward conversation. Always so calm and put together, even with fragments of a bullet still stuck in your body. 

“No, I’ll, uhm, just walk home. Thanks,” you excused as your eyes glanced out at the busy streets ahead. 

Saying goodbye was awkward. Hell, everything was awkward those days. But like you did with all things in your life, you gritted your teeth and bared it before starting your walk home. 

It was strange trying to remember how you used to fit into the world before everything. Sure, you never quite fit in beforehand, squeezing into places too small for you to exist in, but it had become home. But not then. Your edges had become warped, curling in on themselves, retracting into your body. Your piece of the puzzle had shrunk, but everything else stayed the same size, leaving you stuck with a gap that separated you from everyone else. 

You were a watcher; a stranger to the very earth that nourished you. You could hear the seagulls rummaging through a pile of rubbish left beside the bin, and you could see the vibrant valley flowers that took up the window of the florist's shop on your left, but it was… blurry. Fuzzy, like the tingling sensation that plagued your arm every now and then when the blood flow was bad. You tried to focus, do anything to make the imagery around you feel sharper, but the faces of pedestrians were empty, like nobody around you was real, least of all yourself. 

And then you were home. 

It was difficult to tell how long you were standing outside of the door, staring at the empty wood as if it was a mirror. You had just sort of appeared there, like some sort of ghost. Without taking your eyes off of the door, you dug your hand into your bag and blindly felt around for your keys. A part of you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the view Leon had before kidnapping you. Before drugging you and taking you to that fucking basement. 

No. Bukin. Simon told you his last name was Bukin, and you weren’t going to give your dead captor the pleasure of using his first name as if you had been friends. 

Eventually the keys ended up in the lock and you entered the apartment. A heavy aroma of seasoned chicken filled the air around you, and you heard quiet cursing coming from the kitchen. You rounded the corner and were greeted by Simon cooking at the stove and Boo trying his hardest to trip the poor man. The critter stareed up at him with big, begging eyes as he followed your lovers every step. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, quickly glancing away from his work to look at you. 

“You two look busy,” you chuckled, tossing your bag onto the counter. 

“I’m busy,” Simon corrected before tossing a playful glare down at the poor cat by his feet. “He’s a menace.” 

Humming, you stood next to Simon and glanced at what he had on the stove. It was pretty common for you to come home from work with dinner already started, if not finished. Simon had become something of a chef since taking care of you, and he had some pasta boiling and some chicken frying. He had started eating a lot more protein and carbs since going back to the gym, attempting to gain back the strength he had lost while captured. 

“He’s just a baby,” you said, reaching a hand towards the hot pan. With careful fingers, you tore off a small bit of the chicken before blowing on it a little to cool it down. Boo had already stretched up to reach up your thigh by the time you had bent down to give it to him. After a few deep sniffs, he eagerly took it in his mouth and ran off. 

“Spoiled rotten, he is,” Simon mumbled. 

“He was being so patient,” you cooed, watching as Boo scarfed down his treat in the corner of the kitchen, as if afraid someone would take it from him. 

“Patient, my arse,” he chuckled. 

A dull beep sounded from the stove, which Simon quickly pressed a button to shut it off. With a twist of the dial, he turned the heat off of one of the burners and you heard the sound of boiling water quiet down before he moved it towards the sink to strain it. As hot steam billowed upwards, you turned your attention towards one of the cabinets where you found yourself reaching up for it. A small stack of china sat on the lowest shelf. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had actually set the table yourself. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, sweetheart,” Simon said as he sat the still steaming pot on the counter next to the sink. 

Shooting him a weird look, you continued in your pursuit. “I can handle getting plates, Simon.” 

And you did. Grabbed two plates right off the shelf and held them in your hands as you looked at him as if in a challenge. But you understood why he was still so… skittish. He had spent the last few months doing everything for you. Bathing you, dressing you, making your food; he did it all. It almost felt more vulnerable than bleeding out on cold grass. A burden, that’s what you had become. Just another pet for someone to take care of. And Simon didn’t mind it, you knew that; he never did. Still, it was difficult to rot away in that apartment in good conscience knowing he was caring for someone who more than likely should have been a corpse by the ocean. 

Saying nothing, Simon turned his attention back to his work as you walked towards the dining table. You hadn’t even made it halfway there before something crumbled inside of you. A shooting pain ran up and down your left arm, searing your nerves and burning away your flesh. A tingling numbness settled over your hand and the plates you tried to hold so carefully slipped right through your fingers where they shattered on the ground at your feet with a deafening crash. 

Your gasp was cut off by a short whimper as your hand reached up to press against your old, yet still aggravated wound. You kept the pressure there as if trying to keep yourself from spilling on the floor, and you looked down at the mess you made. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you cursed. You pulled your hand away from under your arm and looked at your hand as if expecting blood. 

“You alright?” Simon asked, heavy footsteps trailing across the floor behind you. 

“I’m fine,” you spat, words sharp enough to tear through flesh. 

The footsteps behind you stopped, and it forced you to realize the bite in your tone. It also made you realize how your hand trembled and heart stung as if you were afraid, as if you had been running. In an attempt to calm your nerves, you let out a heavy sigh before looking down at the mess you made. A terrible mosaic of broken glass and a now slightly chipped wooden floor spanned the area around your feet. You had ruined two perfectly good plates, damaged the floor, and you were the one snapping? 

So much like your father. Being angry at the mess when it was your own fault. 

“I’m… fine,” you tried again, softer this time. Empty. “Sorry, I… didn’t mean to…”

When Simon continued to walk towards you, you half expected him to reach for you, and some strange part of you didn’t want him to. Didn’t want his touch. Couldn’t stand it because you knew you didn’t deserve it. Instead, he knelt on the ground next to you, large fingers carefully picking up the bigger pieces of the shattered plates and gathering them into the palm of his hand. 

“You don’t have to clean up my mess,” you said softly, lip trembling as you knelt down next to him to mirror his actions. 

“I know,” he replied simply. He still cleaned anyway. 

Anger was a weird thing for you. It wasn’t often that you felt it without some other emotion accompanying it. Confusion. Frustration. Grief. Shame usually followed shortly after. Truth was, you were angry all the time those days, and it was worse than almost any other emotion you could have experienced. When you had first started your road to recovery, you felt numb, and when you didn’t feel numb you felt terrified. A part of you wished you were still in that stage because you could at least explain why you felt that way. Some sort of self preservation mode your body had forced itself into in an attempt to smother the trauma you had endured over several long weeks. The anger that hid itself away in your chest was something you couldn’t explain. You didn’t know why it was there, but you wished it wasn’t. 

So you stayed silent as you assisted Simon in cleaning up the shattered plates. It had remained mostly in several large chunks, but there were smaller, more fine pieces that you’d have to use a broom for. You hated that your hands shook for each piece you reached out for. 

“I broke one of my mum’s vases when I was a kid,” Simon said unprompted. You found yourself pausing. As you held what pieces you had gathered in your hand, you glanced over at him, and he must have felt your gaze because his eyes flickered to you before focusing back on his work. “Was an accident. Kickin’ around a football in the living room when she told me not to. I tried to hide it from her until I could fix it, but she knew immediately it was missing.”

“Was she mad?” you asked. 

It felt… odd. Strange. Nice. In all the years you had been with Simon, neither of you had really talked about your pasts. All you had gotten or shared were fragments. And there he was, picking up your mess, showing some raw part of himself you had never seen before. 

“Upset, but not mad. She never got mad, even when she should have,” he replied, voice unwavering. 

A thick lump had formed in your throat that was difficult to swallow. Something fuzzy tingled in the back of your mind, like something was trying to rip a chunk of flesh out of you; a memory. Teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, you swallowed again before speaking. 

“My… father broke a lot of plates when I was younger,” you admitted, staring down at the chunks of china in your hands. “Usually to get a reaction out of my mom. They were her mother’s, my grandmother’s, plates. Eventually she had to end up buying plastic plates when he had smashed them all, but that didn’t stop him from throwing them. He was always…”

So predictable. 

Hadn’t you just said that not too long ago? After the shattering of a bowl? More broken china to stain the ground, the carpet, in that basement. You remembered his glare, Erik’s glare - Adakskin - when you told him he was predictable. And you were right. He had done everything you knew he would. A broken dish was always followed by pain. It didn’t matter. It never did. A broken dish was always followed by pain, even if you were the one breaking it. 

Eyes watering, you coughed a little as a sharp tickle formed in your throat. Simon, whose eyes had been on you, glanced over his shoulder to see a fair bit of thick steam and light smoke rising out of the pan he had been cooking chicken in. Cursing, he stood to his feet and quickly tossed the pieces of china he had gathered into the trash before moving the pan off the heat. 

And just like that, you were back. Still kneeling, still cleaning, still quiet. Your life had become nothing but a blur of time; living in the past and present at the same time. Even at work, at home, with Simon, the past held onto you so violently you weren’t sure you would ever be able to shake it off. You tried telling yourself you could - that you would - but once again you were cleaning up a broken plate. Always cleaning but never clean. 

“Hope you like crispy chicken,” Simon sighed. Spatula in hand, he attempted to scrape the burnt meat off of the pan. 

Once you ensured every single shard had been picked up, you turned your attention towards the kitchen for a split moment. You attempted a smile, but it felt too big on your face, so you got rid of it the moment it formed. 

“I’m gonna change out of my work clothes,” you said instead, crossing through the kitchen to head towards the bedroom. “I’ll, uh… I’ll let you get the plates this time.” 

He didn’t say anything in response as you vanished down the hallway, but he kept his eyes on you. His lips tightened into a thin line for a moment before relaxing once more and turning his attention back to dinner. He knew this stage of healing was going to be the hardest. The body had a way of mending wounds that the mind just couldn’t mimic with trauma. That conversation had been the most he was able to get out of you in months, and you still looked terrified. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It had been years since Simon had last smoked a cigarette. He used to smoke regularly when he first joined up, especially more so after his family was killed. It was a good way to keep himself awake on missions, or for avoiding nightmares. He quit when the withdrawal symptoms got bad and he had difficulty with cardio during PT. Now he smoked for the alleviation of stress, even if it only lasted for a moment. Or maybe he did it just to keep his hands moving. No matter the reason, it didn’t change the smoke curling in his lungs as he took drag after drag. 

Something had been on his mind since you dropped those plates at dinner the previous night. The empty look in your eyes haunted him almost as bad as the shaking of your hands. It was getting worse. Or, at least, it wasn’t getting better, and that terrified him. He didn’t know what to do to help you short of dragging you off to some therapist, which he knew wouldn’t do any good. Something was building. Something was going to burst, and he didn’t know when, but the pressure was there and there was nothing he could do about it. 

So there he stood, off in some secluded area on base, smoking his cigarette with a jaw so tense there were indentations of his teeth on the filter. It didn’t take him long to finish it, and when it had been stomped into the ground with the heel of his boot, he was half tempted to smoke another. Keeping the pack in his pocket, he released a heavy sigh before marching back towards the building that housed his office. 

Avoiding as many people in the halls as he could, he quickly unlocked the door and shut it as soon as he slipped inside. The air felt stale, like no one had entered to clean his space in his absence, which was probably for the best anyway. He flicked the light on, and it struggled to fill the room, being dimmer than he remembered it being, but it was enough for the moment. With a press of a button, his computer started to whirr to life, and he sat in his chair as he waited for it to boot up. It had great difficulty starting, and he could hear his SSD grind and whine after being shut off for so many months. 

Eventually the monitor lit up, and Simon wasted no time logging in before opening his browser. The last time he had used this computer he had spent all his time and energy searching through houses and apartments and hotel rooms in search of where you were being held. Now, he found himself looking at houses and apartments again, but for a different reason. 

He needed to get you out of there; out of the apartment the two of you had been staying in. Too many bad memories stained the walls for either of you to do any sort of healing. And so he searched and searched and found his frustration growing. A one bedroom apartment for 3,000 a month? Christ, the housing in that fucking city was astronomically expensive, and sure he could afford it, but for a single damn room? 

So he kept searching. It was difficult trying to find someplace that wasn’t halfway across the city from base that was also still close to your work. He’d hate for you to have to take the tube alone, or walk too far alone at night in the city, especially dressed as fancy as bankers usually were. Of course there was always housing on base, but he wouldn’t be able to bring you with because the two of you weren’t married. 

Your wife; they are relocating her.

Even after all that time he could see that woman clearly, whoever she had been, sitting on the floor of the room you were supposed to be in. At the time he tried to shake off the way that statement made him feel. Behind the anger, frustration, and fear, there was something else there. Wife. He had liked the term. He wished it was true. Then he remembered the photos in front of her. Your face; your gorgeous face, trapped in that Polaroid. The tears and blood that stained your cheeks and lips, the way an unforgiving hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at the lens. 

Wife. He wanted that, craved it. But that wasn’t the time, not after everything that had happened. 

Simon wasn’t brought out of his thoughts until someone knocked on his door, where he found himself glaring at the big hunk of wood. He hadn’t been there in months, and most people should have known that, so why was someone trying to bother him? Still, he gave them a gruff order to come in and he was quickly greeted by Johnny’s wide eyed expression. 

“You’re back?” Johnny asked breathlessly as he shut the door behind him. 

Well, at least out of everyone that it could have been, it was him. 

“Not yet,” he replied simply. His chair squeaked as he leaned back in it in an attempt to relax some. He tried to make a mental reminder to use some WD-40 on it later. “How’d you know I was here?” 

Johnny used his thumb to point over his shoulder at the door behind him. “Was on my way to storage to put some files away,” he explained simply, simultaneously shaking the manilla folder in his hand. “Walked by and saw the light peeking from under the door. Figured someone was cleaning, but knocked just in case.” He took a few cautious steps forward, as if approaching a skittish cat. “How’s everything?”

Simon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question. Things certainly weren’t great, but they could be worse. For example, you could be dead, or still hospitalized. But saying things were great was far from the truth, and he wasn’t exactly keen on explaining every little issue that had been plaguing him as of late. 

“It’s an adjustment,” he admitted instead, “but we’re getting there.”

Johnny nodded, getting even closer to his lieutenant. “Spook doin’ alright, then?” 

Even after all that time, Simon still didn’t like talking about you with other people, even if it was Johnny. Hell, even talking about you to his therapist made him feel tense. But he couldn’t hold onto you like that forever, keeping you caged in the safeness of his arms where you were supposed to be safe. And he had to come to the realization that his sergeant deserved to know. Simon had been there the entire time; through the hospital, through your healing. The last time Johnny had seen you, you were bleeding out on your way to the nearest hospital. 

“She’s back to work. Started physical therapy this week, too,” Simon explained, though he wasn’t sure how much more he could say. 

That small bit of information seemed to mean the whole world to Johnny, and his face lit up. “Good, that’s good! Glad she’s doin’ better.” Then, his eyes darted to the monitor. He caught sight of the rental listings lined up on the screen, as well as their crazy high prices. “Searchin’ for a new home?”

Simon’s attention turned back to the computer for a moment where he let a heavy sigh escape him. “Yeah. Figured it was about time I got her out of there. The apartment. Wanted to get her out sooner, but couldn’t when she was still hurt.”

“It woulda been a lot for her to adjust to at once,” Johnny agreed. 

Things fell silent for a moment as both men lost themselves in their thoughts, but only for a short moment before Johnny adjusted the folder in his hand. 

“Well, I’ll let you continue searching,” he excused himself as he took a step back. “Gotta get this to storage eventually.” 

Simon was one second away from wishing the man well before watching him leave his office, but something stopped him. He knew that if he was alone again, his thoughts would go right back to where they were before. That woman in the room. Pictures of you on the floor. The blood. The Polaroids. That fucking hand that gripped your face - the hand that had no fucking right to touch you. Those goddamn pictures. 

“I’ll come with,” Simon said, already shutting his computer down. 

Eyebrows drawing together, Johnny tilted his head to the side as he paused his retreat. “You sure?” 

There was no room for argument. Everything in his office was quickly shut down and put away, and the two men walked through the halls of the building. There were a few familiar faces that threw Simon odd glances, as if surprised to see him there, or perhaps surprised he was still alive. His name was Ghost for a reason. 

Neither man said anything to one another until they reached the storage room. Shelves lined up like dominos and spanned all the way to the back wall where an industrial sized paper shredder sat. Large white cardboard boxes rested on the shelves with simple flip open tops, each labeled with either a case or date of some sort. Painfully white lights washed out the entire room, causing Johnny to squint for a moment before his eyes adjusted. 

“Hate sorting through this shit,” he muttered as he began to wander through the aisles. 

Simon stood in the doorway for a moment, breathing in the scent of old paper and rotting ink. Usually he never had to go into that room; whatever paperwork that he did have that would go there he’d make someone else’s problem. Even then, he found himself searching, eyes scanning the labels on the boxes. Locations, names, dates, everything. Johnny caught onto his search, and watched him for a moment with careful eyes, but still refused to say anything. 

“Aye, here we are,” Johnny sighed as he flipped the lid off of one of the boxes. He unceremoniously tossed the file into it before shutting it once again. “Right. Ready to get outta here?” 

But when he turned to Simon, he saw the man’s attention was caught by one of the boxes. Salthouse | 8, December. The lid was already opened, and Simon stared blankly into it as if he wasn’t sure where to start. 

“Ghost?” Johnny said softly. 

Simon’s hands dove into the box decisively where his fingers grabbed onto a small, orange envelope. There was a slight thickness to it, like something had to be shoved in there to fit properly, or too many things had been stacked and folded on top of one another. He wasted no time undoing the brass clasp at the top and pouring the contents into his hand. 

A plastic bag full of Polaroids tumbled out of the envelope, and Simon and Johnny were met with the image of your face. Beaten, irritated, and bloody, it was a different image than what they had seen last time, like whoever had collected it shuffled through the images in morbid curiosity. You laid on the ground on your back, no hand gripping your face, but still very obviously out of it. Passed out, probably, or at least on the verge of consciousness. 

He wasn’t prepared for the anger that bubbled up inside of him upon setting eyes on those images again. So many regrets, things that he should have done differently. He should have been stronger, faster, deadlier. Should have made Bukin and Adakskin pay for everything they had done to you with more than just a bullet to the head. Should have ripped up that picture of you the moment he got the chance. 

“Simon,” Johnny said again. It was rare that the man ever used his lieutenants real name, but it left him before he was able to stop it. 

Ignoring him, Simon tossed the orange envelope back into the box before ripping open the plastic bag, nearly scattering the photos all over the ground. He gathered them up into his hands before marching off towards the back of the room, boots hitting heavy against the floor. 

“What’re you doing?” Johnny asked, voice a bit more firm. 

“No one needs to see these,” Simon responded within an instant. “Everyone knows what happened to her. No one needs to see her like this.” 

He approached the shredder that sat against the back wall of the room. It was a large thing, made for shredding stacks of paper all at once with teeth that could eat an entire hand within an instant. A few Polaroids wouldn’t be an issue at all. The thing was, Johnny couldn’t even argue with Simon, because he felt the exact same way. So he stood there and watched as Simon powered on the shredder, gears whirring and whining. 

Without remorse, Simon tossed the photos into the shredder and watched as the metal tore them to shreds with ease. Plastic crinkled and cracked until they were all eaten up and spat out into the bag that stored all the other scraps it had thrown up. The thing was, Simon was never very good at fixing things. No matter how hard he tried to be, he always ended up breaking things. His mother’s vase or a man's arm. He could pull a trigger and end someone’s life and yet he felt something convulsing inside of him at the thought of opening himself to you. 

But this? This felt right. Destroying those pictures. There was enough evidence on your body and in your mind as it was. He tried so hard to be something else, anything else; but in the end, Simon was a brutal man whose hands were only capable of violence; might as well put them to good use.

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss @crowbird @beware-my-thorns @koko-1025 @nessaasstuff @escapefromrealitysm @babygirl-riley @theloneshadow24 @ashableketchup @violet-19999 @paigetaylor628 @curlygirls-world @gaebestie @datlilwrench @ryisghost @suffering-and-happy-about-it @achelois-is-here

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[diagnosedpsychosis]

I want you

Description: Aaron goes undercover and gets touchy with the unsub and you start overthinking.

Word Count: 3.4k

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You were beyond embarrassed, you were mortified as you watched Aaron's hands latch onto the waist of the blonde at the bar. Your face burned, heart racing a thousand miles an hour as you tried to calm your breathing.

You felt so stupid, so fucking stupid that you wanted to leave mid-case. You wanted to stand up from the seat you were in across from Derek, walk out the club, get the next taxi to the airport and go home. Then when you got home, you wanted to lock yourself inside your home, get in bed, and never leave.

Just two nights ago, Aaron had asked you if you wanted to get a drink with him, and stupid you thought it was his way of asking you out, so of course you said yes. You talked, laughed, and tried to ignore the way his eyes would glance between yours and the bar every now and again.

It was now that you realised Aaron hadn't asked you out on a date, he had his suspicions about a woman working in the bar, and invited you out so that you'd be seen together and catch her interest. He never wanted you there for himself, it was so that he could go undercover as a man unfaithful to his partner tonight, in hopes of catching her.

And he did, he had her in the literal palm of his hand.

"He should've gone into theatre. Look at that smirk" Derek chuckled across from you, bringing his drink up to his lips as he also watched the way Aaron touched the unsub and the way it almost looked like he enjoyed her touching him.

You plastered a smile on your face, despite the fact you were struggling to breathe, your chest so heavy you struggled to sit up straight and not slouch. What you didn't realise was how well Derek knew you, and how much attention he actually paid you. He knew about your years long crush, and he could tell, by the wavering smile on your face right now, just how upset you actually were.

Aaron didn't mean to trick you, in fact he likes you so much it also felt like a date to him. It wasn't real, but it didn't mean he didn't want it to be. Every time you looked, smiled or laughed his way, he had to talk himself out of practically getting down on his knees before you and begging you to go out with him. You were younger than him, not by much, but the fact he felt like you still had so many years left to experiment and be the beautiful, young single woman you were, stopped him from asking you for anything, and everything he wanted.

You didn't want to date around though, and if he'd been along to any of the lunch and dinner dates you and the girls had, he'd know you were ready to just settle down and relax. You wanted him, and he wanted you, but you were both too blind to see how badly you craved each other.

The unsub perched herself on Aaron's thigh and leant forward, and with a sharp inhale you looked away, knowing you wouldn't be able to stomach watching them kiss. Because you'd looked away, you missed the way Aaron's eyes briefly flicked over to you whilst the unsub had her eyes closed, before she pressed her lips flush against his.

Derek subtly glanced at you, taking in your frown as you stared off in the other direction. You were watching the exit, wanting Aaron to hurry up and get his part over with so you could go home.

"Earth to beauty" You snapped out of your thoughts as Derek leant across the table and squeezed your hand, getting your attention.

"They're on the move" You frowned, glancing over to where Aaron and the unsub had been, finding their spot empty before catching the woman's blonde head of hair leading Aaron towards the more hidden, back exit. In unison, you and Derek, as well as Spencer and Emily who'd been seated at another table got up and headed for the back door. You were the last to walk out the door, and immediately stopped, lowering your gun by your side as you found the unsub pinned face front into the brick wall, Aaron hand cuffing her whilst sporting a bloody looking split lip.

The little alleyway the back door lead to quickly filled with red and blue lights as police surrounded the area, the unsub being taken into custody rather quickly. JJ and Rossi stepped out of one of the bureau suburban's and joined the rest of you. You stood slightly to the side of the group, hands in your jean pockets as you stared down the alleyway watching the occasional car drive past.

"Hey" You stiffened, turning and looking up at Aaron who'd made his way over to you. He was standing too close, close enough for you to see the smudged lip stick on his neck. Wrapping your arms around yourself you offered him the best fake smile you could muster up which turned into a tight lipped smile.

You didn't know what to say. You felt like you had a million thoughts running wild in your mind, but you couldn't pin point and understand a single one of them. So you stood and waited for Aaron to say something. He didn't know why but he felt obligated to apologise to you and make up for kissing the unsub. He didn't like it, and it didn't last long, but he felt the need to explain himself to you, even if you were at the moment just work colleagues and friends.

He felt like you needed to know.

"I-" He was quickly cut off by the chief walking by. He stopped beside you and held out his hand to Aaron.

"I just wanted to thank you and your team for everything you've done for this city. She'd still be running around if it wasn't for you guys" Chief Lang smiled, shaking Aaron's hand before turning to you.

"Don't hesitate to call us if things go south again" Aaron told him, watching as you both shook hands.

"Trust me, I won't" Lang laughed, nodding at you and Aaron before turning and heading back towards his car. Your eyes met Aaron's, and not wanting to talk to him or feel the tension right now you quickly turned back around and called out to the Chief.

"Hey Lang, are you heading back to the station?"

"Yeah, why? You want a lift?" He asked opening the drivers door and looking back toward you.

"If that's alright?" You smiled. He scoffed.

"Of course, come on" You glanced back at Aaron, eyes zoning in on his busted lip as he watched you back away, his usual frown deepening.

"You should get some ice from the bar" You told him before quickly turning and walking over to the Chief's car. Aaron silently watched you get in and the car drive away. And while Aaron watched you, Derek watched him, slightly shaking his head.

You quickly packed and grabbed your things before getting a officer to take you to the jet. Everyone else slowly made their way back to the station, and your absence was immediately noticed.

The officer that took you realised everyone was glancing around, trying to find you and quickly stood up to inform them.

"Agent Y/l/n is on the jet" Aaron frowned.

"Already?" He asked, the officer nodding again before laughing.

"She said Doctor Reid always gets the couch and wanted to beat him to it" The office replied.

"Dammit" Spencer muttered under his breath. Everyone was quick to gather their things and head to the jet. The first thing anyone noticed was a pile of hair sticking out from a blanket on the couch. Derek snorted, leaning down and kissing your head as he passed to put his bag in the back before taking one of the seats across from you. By the time the jet was in the air everyone had started to doze off except for two, you and Aaron.

He was too busy staring at you, and you were too busy pretending to be asleep so you didn't have to interact with him. He knew something was wrong with you and he hated that if he trusted his gut, it'd be about him. You hated knowing you really had no reason to be angry or upset at him. What he did was smart, taking you to the club a couple days ago, but it hurt your feelings none the less.

The jet landed, and you latched onto Derek, not wanting to be in the same car as Aaron, but definitely not wanting to accidentally get stuck seated next to him. You ended up in the same car, but Aaron sat front seat whilst you and Derek took the middle row.

The ride back to Quantico was silent, except for yours and Derek's occasional whispers and giggles, which seemed to irk Aaron more today than they ever have before. Usually, you went out of your way to talk to him, but today you went out of your way to avoid him and it seemed to him like you were letting Derek use up all his time with you, time that was Aaron's.

He knew there was and would never be anything between Derek and you, but as the former's mouth brushed your ear, Aaron found himself becoming more frustrated, wondering if 'never' was an appropriate word to use for you two.

You all got back to the bureau, falling into quiet chatter as you rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, too tired to be enthusiastic about finally being home. The elevator doors opened and there stood a smiling Penelope, holding a container of baked cookies. Penelope was a refreshing sight after a long, hard week and you all let her know with the tired smiles and relieved sighs.

Parting, everyone grabbed the things they needed from their desks or other resources, and started making their way out of the building. Usually you would stay back late and get a head start on case files, but knowing the only other person who'd stay back was Aaron, you quickly packed your things, not wanting to be on the same floor as him if others weren't around.

"Night everyone" You rushed, grabbing your keys and a book from your desk before already turning around, making your way out of the bullpen. You were the first out and everybody noticed, knowing it was so unlike you to be the first gone. Aaron hadn't even stepped up to his office yet. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, head turned over his shoulder, a heavy frown on his brow as he watched you race out.

The door closed behind you, and everybody waited until you were in the elevator to comment.

"Is y/n alright?" Spencer asked, his slightly worried gaze jumping between all of his friends, waiting for whoever knew what was up to say something.

"I'm sure she's just tired. This case was a long one" Emily tried to ease Spencer and it seemed to slightly do the trick. JJ nodded in agreement before both girls bid everyone a goodbye and left, meeting Penelope at the elevator.

Derek couldn't help but drag his gaze over to Aaron. It was Aaron's fault y/n was acting like a robot and he didn't even know it. Aaron's mind wasn't eased like Spencer's at the words of Emily, not even a tiny bit. And ever so slowly he turned his head in the direction of the burning gaze he felt in the side of his skull. His eyes met Derek's and both frowns deepened.

"Morgan" Was all Aaron needed to say to make Derek follow him up to his office. He closed the door and turned to Aaron who was standing behind his desk, looking over the things on his desk. He needed to get some work done tonight, but there was nothing he wanted to do more than follow in your footsteps and leave.

"What's wrong with her?" It was pretty obvious 'her' was you, the authoritative tone behind Aaron's question making him huff a breath of air out as he lightly shook his head.

"Take a wild guess" Aaron's frown deepened as he looked up at Derek through his eyebrows.

"I wouldn't have called you in here if I knew" He replied bluntly, looking back down, trying not to seem too desperate for an answer, but Derek's response immediately brought him away from work again.

"It's not really my place-"

"Derek, I can't help her if I don't know what's up" Aaron cut him off. Both men held each others eyes in a staring contest, but quickly Derek sighed, looking away.

"She's embarrassed and upset" Aaron's frown somehow hardened as he lightly shook his head, not understanding why.

"About what?"

"She realised you were using her to catch the unsub's attention. She actually thought you were interested" Aaron remained silent, his chest caving in on him as he thought about how you must be feeling. He knew your silence might have had something to do with the end of the case and the club, but he didn't know it was because you thought he was using you.

"I wasn't using her for the sake of the case" Aaron mumbled, staring off into the distance, thinking about how he was going to convince you otherwise.

"The unsub was working the same bar-"

"I had a hunch, but I invited her out for drinks for purely selfish reasons. It had nothing to do with the case" Aaron interrupted Derek, glancing over at him as he stood, trying to hide a smile. Derek felt like he was playing match maker with two people perfect for each other and it made him feel nothing but pure joy.

"She doesn't know that" Derek stated, matter of factly, Aaron lightly shaking his head.

"No, she doesn't" Aaron agreed softly, grabbing his go bag and his car keys from his desk before moving around and making his way for the exit.

"Close the door behind yourself" Aaron ordered Derek over his shoulder before leaving his office and heading down the steps and through the bullpen. Derek followed, stopping in Aaron's office doorway, a large grin on his face as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Where are you going?" He called out just as Aaron's hand met the glass doors that'd take him out to the elevator. He turned back, a tiny smirk on his face as he threw Derek's words back in his face.

"Take a wild guess."

No matter how hungry you were, nothing could make you eat when you were upset. You knew you had no reason to be upset, and frankly you felt ridiculous and childish for even being slightly annoyed, but you couldn't help it. You thought something was there between you and Aaron, but after tonight's events, it turns out you were wrong.

You were going to allow yourself this weekend to grieve a relationship that never even had a chance, and then on Monday you'd walk into work like nothing happened. You'd go back to normal.

You took out your braid, silently moaning to yourself at the loss of pressure. Your head had been killing all day, and now all you needed was someone to massage your head for you. You pulled your riding up singlet back down before walking out into the lounge of your apartment, halfway to the couch when a heavy knock at the door made you pause.

You just knew it'd be Derek. He'd been messaging you since pretty much the moment you left the bureau, asking if you needed any company for the night. You'd told him no, over and over again but clearly he didn't get the message. You huffed, walking over to your front door.

"Derek, why don't you eve- Oh" You froze, heart skipping a beat as you opened the front door to somebody who definitely wasn't Derek. Feeling all too exposed in a small singlet, pajama shorts and fluffy socks you folded your arms over your chest as you stared up at the soaked man, dripping at your front door. You hadn't even realised it started raining.

"Hotch, is everything alright?" You asked, hoping the heat you felt in your face wasn't showing. Aaron opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out as his gaze dropped down, away from your face and slowly dragged up and down your figure.

"Hotch, it's pouring out there. Shouldn't you be getting-"

"I wasn't using you" He quickly cut you off, your breathing turning heavy as you took a small step back. You flattened your hand out against your heart, frowning as you stared up at him.

"I- did Derek-" Aaron cut you off again, but with actions rather than words. He took a step forward, and you indistinctively took one back into your apartment. Holding eye contact, Aaron slowly stepped inside your apartment, before grabbing the door knob and shutting the two of you inside.

"I didn't ask you out for a drink because I knew the unsub would be at the bar and hoped she'd see us," He took another step toward you, but this time you didn't step back. "I asked you if you wanted to get a drink because I was jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?" It came out of your mouth a little loud, but you were confused. Literally nothing happened for Aaron to even need to feel slightly jealous about.

"Of the way you were laughing along with one of the officers at the station. I thought that by asking you out for a drink, you'd forget about him and remember that I'm right in front of you" Your heart raced a thousand miles an hour. He wanted you to think of him? He wanted you to remember he was there? He wanted you?

"I was never interested in Officer Johnson" You mumbled quietly, playing with your opal pendant on your necklace. Aaron took another slow step forward, eyes focused on your fingers as they toyed with the tiny stone.

"No?" He asked softly, his intense gaze making your hand pause on your chest.

"No" You whispered back, chest heaving at the intensity of the tension filling your apartment. Just moments ago you'd been frozen to the bone, about to turn your heater on and rug up in a blanket. But now... now you felt like you needed to open the windows despite the heavy downpour happening outside. You were boiling, and it was all Aaron's fault.

"That's good to hear" You dared not move as Aaron took his last step, stopping right in front of you. Aaron lifted his hand up to your chest, taking the opal pendant between his fingers, and you froze in place. He slowly dragged it up and down your necklace before looking up, his eyes finally meeting yours.

"Yeah?" You breathed out, aching for Aaron's touch. The eye contact and the absolute admiration in your eyes for him was like a flick of a switch. Aaron had held back from thinking about you for so long, and despite how hard he tried to remain professional you managed to worm your way inside his mind, and his heart without even realising it.

Aaron couldn't hold back any longer. He wasn't strong enough and it didn't faze him one little bit.

"Yeah" He sighed before threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your mouth flush against his. You sucked in a harsh breath through your nose, frozen from the shock of his desperation. But it only lasted a couple seconds before you sank into his hold, without a care in the world that his drenched suit would soak you with him.

If he was drenched, you wanted to be drenched with him.

You quickly became an addiction for Aaron. The way your body perfectly curved and fit against his as he wrapped his long arms around your body, needing you closer. The way your lips moved against his, just as desperately as his, letting you know you were just as crazy for him as he was for you.

The way his heart, while it still raced, slowed to a calmer rhythm. Without you, it hammered so hard he worried it'd fly out of his chest. But with you, it sat snug, knowing it didn't need to go out anywhere and seek you, as you were right there, in front of him, with him.

You were his at last.

[tessa-liam]

Marabelle

Chapter 15 – Part 1 

Life Goes On - 1

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU – (cross-over with Rules of Engagement)  

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?  

Marabelle Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist  

Main Pairing – Crown Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor  

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson  

Most characters belong to Choices- Pixelberry Studios  

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, drinking, crude language & innuendo, terrorist/gun violence 

Many thanks to @selina012 for pre-reading. 

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff/cross-over with Choices Rules of Engagement  

Chapter Summary – It’s graduation night for Maxwell and during the evening, the venue is attacked by the “Sons of Earth”, an anti-monarchist terror group. After being alerted, Liam rushes home to Cordonia from an Italian political summit. 

Music & Title Inspiration: Life Goes On, Ed Sheeran, Luke Combs 

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.  

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.  

A/N3: Heartfelt thanks to @Selina012 for joining me in writing ideas and with dialogue for this chapter.  

Main Auditorium, University of Cordonia, Capital  

11:15 p.m. 

Sophie's POV 

It's dark now. The air around me is thick and stings the back of my throat. The sound of fireworks rings in my ears. There's an awful taste in my mouth. Something cold and metallic. It's blood. Where it's coming from, though, I'm not sure. The smell of it hits my senses in full and makes me feel woozy, as if I'm drunk. 

At first there are just shrieks of confusion, and the smell of gunpowder in the air. As it settles though, I realize that one of the sharp sounds is a scream. 

Then, out of nowhere, someone runs past. Another joins them, and then more and more people seem to flood the room. They're rushing in from what was, minutes earlier, the exit; and now it feels like a long and twisted nightmare. 

I see the figure of a man, dressed in black standing in front of me, frozen in place, as if there was a weapon pointed at him. "Watch the front", I shout, and dropped down to the floor, pulling Tom and Candy down with me. 

"Sophie---" Before Candy and Tom could react, there was a loud bang and a champagne tower behind us exploded, shattering glass and spraying champagne everywhere.  

Sophie had closed her eyes instinctively, and when she opened them, she saw Candy looking at her gratefully. 

"Thank you, Sophie." Tears welled in her eyes. 

"Don't give up. We'll get out of here." Sophie comforted them and that seemed to cheer herself up, as well. She whispered Liam's name in her mind, as if that would give her more strength. 

Finally, after a difficult trek, and not meeting those men in black again, they came to the emergency exit. Sophie pushed the door open forcefully; a breath of fresh air ...the smell of freedom greeted them. 

"We're out at last!" Candy cried, her tears falling. 

"Quick, get out of here; as far away as you can." Sophie urged them. Around her, other students and guests screamed in panic and stumbled away. Some were covered in blood, others were unable to walk, some supported by peers or carried on their backs. 

They saw the flashing lights and sounds of ambulances and police cars in the distance, and Sophie quickened her pace, almost with all her strength, and led them toward the light. 

Police cars and ambulances roared in as police with security forces moved in quickly to evacuate people while paramedics treated the injured. 

Sophie, Candy and Tom were quickly met by paramedics for aid and assessment. In the ambulance, nurses performed a simple dressing for the cut on Sophie's face and assessed the bruising that was starting to appear. Meanwhile, Candy and Tom lay on stretchers being taken care of by doctors. 

"How are you? Feel all right?" Sophie asked her friend anxiously. 

Candy managed to smile, though her body was still shaking slightly from the shock of the pain. "I'm fine -- just my arm still hurts and I'm a little dizzy." 

"...Tom ... how is Tom?" Sophie watched as Candy struggled to sit up, but she was soon stopped by the nurse who bandaged her. Tom looked pale and clenched his teeth, trying to bear the pain in his shoulder. 

He nodded hard. "I'm okay --Candy ... sweetheart. Just ... I hope my shoulder doesn't get damaged later." 

Sophie gently held the hands of the two friends, with a little comfort and positivity in her heart, "You both will be all right, and soon we will be sent to the hospital." She whispered to them. 

A few moments passed and the doctor's voice came from the front of the ambulance, "Sorry, you need to get off, miss. We have limited space and must give priority to getting more seriously injured people to hospital." 

Sophie nodded, and though she did not want to, she knew it was necessary. She gave her friends a meaningful look and then said firmly, "you must hold on. I'll be waiting for you." 

With that, Sophie is led out by another doctor and watched the ambulance drive away with Candy and Tom. Looking around the parking lot, she noticed that Maxwell and Daniel were nowhere to be found, having been separated from her during the escape. She turned her eyes to the crowd around her and searched, trying to find Maxwell and Daniel among them. 

Her heart was filled with deep anxiety and worry, as she silently prayed that Candy and Tom, and Maxwell and Daniel, would be safe. Other ambulances around her were open, and she saw medical staff treating the injured students and guests in a tense and orderly manner. Many of the students were injured and their bodies and clothing were covered with blood. Some were clutching their wounds while others crouched on the ground, their expressions contorted with pain. Some persevered through gritted teeth, though their faces were pale. Others cried out in pain, their voices filled with fear and despair; several others had lost consciousness and had been carried out by their companions, lying motionless on stretchers, lifeless in the crowd. However, she still could not find Maxwell and Daniel. 

Italian Parliament, Rome

Liam's POV: 

Bastien stood in the lobby with his hands clasped behind his back. He lifted his head when he heard my footsteps, "Your Highness," He nodded politely. After intense all-day meetings, I was looking forward to the dinner invitation at the home of an Italian statesman and his wife. Francesco di Pietro was married to a Cordonian noble; a friend of my late mother. 

"So," Liam began, walking at a quick pace, side-by-side with Bastien, "Did you track her location?" 

"Unfortunately, not, sir. It looks like either she didn't have her phone with her, or she switched it off." 

"Okay." Liam exhaled deeply. His heart fell, wondering why she did not answer his calls and messages. "Well, please keep trying. Let me know immediately when you are successful." 

"Understood, sir." 

As he exited the building, Liam spotted Rashad on the corner, talking with the limo driver and Rashad’s assistant. 

He caught sight of Liam as the staff and the driver bid goodbye. Rashad turned to the crown prince and clapped him on the back as they walked together. 

"Let me say again that it was a job well done, Li. The outcome of your meetings was exactly what we hoped. The Prime Minister himself will present the results in Parliament later this week." 

"Excellent," Liam replied, his mind clearly elsewhere. 

The pair rode together in the limousine, this time on their way to the reception. Rashad relaxed into the soft leather seats. He examined Liam and could sense his distraction. "You look agitated, Li." 

Liam's eyes refocused. He turned towards Rashad and exhaled. "There is something I wish to discuss with you." 

The atmosphere in the vehicle at once turned somber. Rashad's voice was steady. "Alright." 

"I need a financial audit completed of the duchy of Krona." 

Rashad pursed his lips thoughtfully. He reached into his breast pocket and produced a mobile phone. His long fingers rapidly punched numbers, and within seconds he spoke clearly. 

"Good evening. We need a financial audit conducted at the earliest. I will send you the details via e-mail later this evening. This is confidential." 

Liam settled into his seat, as Rashad confirmed an appointment for himself with the inspector general the next morning. As he rang off and returned his phone to his breast pocket, Rashad looked at Liam, "Consider it done ... can I ask if there is something in particular that you are looking for?" 

"Let's just say, I have a hunch."   

Arriving at the residence of Signore and Signorina di Pietro. Bastien opened the limo door and let the men out at the main entrance. The ambassador's residence was a grand marble palazzo surrounded by elegant greenery and flowers in the style of the gardens of Versailles. The Italian marble entrance was brightly lit, showing the rich texture of the red, white and pink-hued material. 

They were ushered inside and offered cocktails, as Francesco and his wife, Isobella, greeted them in the foyer. 

The meal was exquisite; the chef served them an amorous appetizer, risotto ai frutti demare, a seafood risotto, before serving the main course, porcini mushroom filled chicken in a truffle glaze, paired with a delicious wine from the estate’s winery. 

Even though it was exquisite and luxurious, it could not help Liam through his restless state of mind. He listened politely as Francesco’s wife, Isobella, told stories that involved her experiences with his mother and Cordonia. 

Francesco turned and raised a toast. "To Cordonia and our rich future of diplomatic and financial cooperation. May our new alliance continue to blossom, 'come un fiore al sole'." (Like a flower in the sun.) 

Liam responded graciously. "Grazie, and saluti." [thank you, cheers] 

Isobella held out her hand and her daughter, Carmella, placed it in her mother's. Carmella walked with a poised, graceful step towards Liam, her dark hair styled in a braided crown. She had almond-shaped brown eyes that gazed at him demurely. 

As she drew closer, Liam could make out her petite stature, a slim yet feminine figure underneath her blush-toned gown. 

"Buonasera, Vostra Altezza,” [Good evening, Your Highness}, she softly spoke, dropping down into a graceful curtsy. Liam nodded at her in greeting. “Buonasera Carmella, e un piacere incontrarti.” (Good evening, Carmella, it is lovely to meet you). 

Francesco addressed Liam warmly. “Forgive her timidity, Your Highness, she's not yet used to entertaining royalty." 

Liam flashed his charming faux smile and glanced at the beautiful girl before him. "The pleasure is mine." He bowed and nodded. 

Carmella flashed a coy smile and batted her eyes coquettishly. Her flirtations were unsuccessful, though. Liam politely kept his distance and turned his attention back to her parents. Francesco openly showed disappointment with Liam’s response to his daughter, “È adorabile, vero? Liam..”. [She is lovely, no? Liam...] 

"Oh my, have a look," Carmella announced loudly, interrupting her father. A look of horror dawned on her face as she motioned towards a mounted flat screen in the adjacent family room. 

Liam turned his attention to the breaking news to watch the images on the television screen, as reporters recounted in rapid-fire Italian, the events of a shooting incident at the University of Cordonia. Liam's mouth went dry, a sinking feeling in his stomach, as he heard the beating of his heart pounding in his ears.  

"Sparatoria di massa alla laurea dell'Università di Cordonia, numerose vittime." [“Mass shooting at Cordonia University graduation, multiple casualties.”] 

Liam gritted his teeth. The news video is shocking: the chaos, the panicked crowds, the victims.... Anger and grief mangled in his heart, and he felt overwhelming fury at this indiscriminately violent attack. 

He continued to listen, his heart stung by the reporter's words - “according to witnesses, there are student casualties at the scene.” Liam's mind flashed to Sophie's image as he absorbed this information. 

Liam was glued to the screen, looking for any clues that could relate to Sophie. But the reporter did not mention the names of specific victims. Nevertheless, his anxiety and worry had reached the climax. He knew that Sophie was not only someone he loved, but one of the people he cared about most in the world. If something should happen to her ... he dared not think further 

Rashad clapped him on the back gently, whispering "let's go, Li. Come on." 

Liam murmured a rushed farewell and left the room, his face flushed with anxiety. His hands were clenched into fists, his veins bulging revealing his inner struggle and determination. He must return to Sophie as soon as possible to ensure her safety and as Crown Prince he must personally deal with the vicious incident that has shocked the nation. 

Outside the estate, Bastien rushed to the door to meet Liam, who rushed into the limo and commanded calmly and firmly. 

"Prepare the jet." 

Within moments, the black limo was rushing through the streets to the private jet waiting for them at the airport. Liam knows that, as Crown Prince, he must remain unflappable and rational. But at the moment, he is just a man who loves Sophie deeply and cannot contain his deep concern for her welfare. 

 On the way to the airport Liam closes his eyes and contemplates, but his mind is in turmoil. He can't forget the shocking images in the news, the helplessness and despair of the victims. At the same time, every moment he spent with Sophie came back to him; those sweet, happy and romantic memories. He vowed himself that he must bring justice to the victims of the shooting and bring the perpetrators to justice; at the same time, he must find Sophie and protect her from all harm, no matter what the difficulties. 

Within moments, the black limo was rushing through the streets to the private jet waiting for them at the airport. 

Aboard the jet, Liam impatiently paced the floor, his thoughts racing and his heart thudding wildly in his chest. It was not long before Bastien came through the hatch with a folder in his hand. 

"I have the cell tower records for the past 12 hours. Lady Sophia’s mobile last pinged at 8:32 p.m. with no further activity since.  We also pinged it before the attack and after and checked the towers; it has yet to send out another signal" 

 Rashad watched Liam’s face pale. The evidence strongly suggested that Sophie is, as at that moment, missing. 

His heart was beating at the speed of a thousand miles per hour, the hairs on his nape rising, his chest tightened. 

"We just need to trust that they are alright," Rashad insisted as he looked through his tablet, his hands shaking as he stared at the horrific photos that appeared on social media, of the aftermath of the campus violence. He swore under his breath in French, wishing they would provide more updates on the situation. 

He handed Liam his device, nervously watching Liam’s reaction, his heart pounding wildly. 

"One of my informants gave me this footage before we left the statesmen’s home. I think you need to take a look." 

Liam watched the blurry security camera footage as dozens of masked figures, bearing firearms, stood just outside the building that was clearly recognizable as the auditorium where the graduation ceremony took place earlier this evening, as they lined up several of their colleagues the unmistakable emblem displayed, 'The Sons of Earth'. 

After receiving Bastian's firm and urgent phone call, Drake rushed into the airport his eyes quickly scanning Bastien’s solemn face. “Get on the plane, we don't have time,” Bastien ordered curtly and forcefully. 

Drake nodded and stepped quickly into the cabin without question. His eyes at once caught Liam in the front row. Drake walked quickly toward Liam, filled with concern and sympathy. He slowly sat down across from Liam, trying to control his emotions so as not to disturb his friend's heavy mood. 

“Liam, I just heard that Sophie and Maxwell ... This is so sudden, are you okay?” 

Liam looked up at Drake, slightly tired, but then turned firm again. “Not very well, but I have to stay calm. Sophie and Maxwell are in danger. I must find them and make sure they are safe.” 

His tone was tight, but every word betrayed a firm determination. 

Bastien stood to the side silently observing the interaction between the two men. 

“Your highness, we have done everything possible to ensure a smooth flight and the most important thing now is to get to Cordonia as soon as possible to understand the actual situation.” 

His words were short and powerful, adding a touch of confidence to the dreary atmosphere. 

Drake nodded and looked out the window at the receding ground, silently praying for Sophie and Maxwell.  

“We are all here for you, Liam. Sophie and Max are strong, and they will be fine.”  

He tries to comfort Liam with his words, even though he knows what this sudden disaster means. Looking at his best friend, Liam's expression remained unreadable. 

The jet started to move as it began to taxi away from the parking bay. As the plane accelerated down the runway, it soared into the air with a roar, piercing the thick clouds and soaring into the sky. 

Coming soon, part 2.

A/N4: This chapter had a mind of its own🫢, and is long ...so I broke it into 2 parts🫣. It's already written and will post in a few days...

Thanks for reading ❣️

@choicesficwriterscreations

@selina012

📌tags in the comments, please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[buckyalpine]

Collar

THIS IS EVERYTHING MY GOD @boredum7865 YES TO IT ALL FLUFF AND SMUT

“And how about this for our princess” another tiny mouse was thrown into the growing pile of toys while Bucky made his way up and down the shelves of the pet store. You giggled at the way he added more and more items to the cart without a care in the world, spoiling his furbaby. 

“Buck, she doesn’t need-

“Yes she does” he huffed, tossing in another bag of treats, so she’d get to pick between chicken, turkey or tuna. As soon as you arrived back at the compound with about half the store, Bucky set all the things down in the living room before going and grabbing his favorite thing in the world, the most proud cat dad. 

“You like all this babygirl?” He cooed, letting her sniff her new presents, happily batting a feathery ball before taking her time to swat at the bags everything came in. 

“Of course she likes the bags” You snorted while Bucky shook his head. You picked up her up and set her down on your lap to the the different collars you’d bought her; each in every color of the rainbow with a cute silver bell in the middle. Each one looked perfect on her white fur, the pink one seemingly her favorite. You picked up the last collar which hung  too low around her neck, about 3 sizes too large. 

“Aww baby, I think this is a little big for you” You slipped off the black collar her head and put the pink one back on while Bucky picked up the black one you set aside. 

“This ones huge” Bucky mused, holding it up to his own neck and fastening it, giggling at the fact that it actually fit him. “Now we match, baby girl” He grinned, grabbing Alpine and holding her up to his face, her little nose twitching, trying to boop it against his. She slow blinked, purring and tucking herself into his neck for cuddles, eventually slinking away again to play with her latest haul. 

“I think I’d make a good cat” Bucky stated to himself while he stretched out on the couch where the sun was hitting, settling himself against the cushions. 

“What” You snorted, sorting through the cat food and organizing it while Bucky folded his arms behind his head, lounging lazily in the warm sun. 

“I’m low maintenance" He thought to himself, listing all the reasons he thought made him cat quality, “I like naps. I like chicken. I like dark spaces. I like belly scratches-

“Really, Mr. Don’t come near me within a 10 Ft. radius?” The laugh you let out made him pout, retracting his previous statement.  

“Fine. I like when you give me belly rubs. You’re always giving them to Alpine, give me some”

“A child is what you are-” You shook your head, scooting near the edge of the sofa from where you were seated on the floor, turning around to your ridiculous boyfriend. Your breath hitched in your thrown, suddenly forgetting how to breath while Bucky laid on his back, still wearing the collar, the leather material matching his tight black t-shirt and jeans. His t-shirt had ridden up, giving you a pretty view of the faint trail of hair that continued down his jeans, the sun making the silver on the bell sparkle. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked, noting you looked like you were lost in thought, lips lightly parted, breathing heavier. 

“Y-yeah” you nodded, still staring at the little silver bell, shaking your head and the less than innocent thoughts that tried to sneak in. “You’re wearing the collar?” 

“M’cute with it” He shrugged like a little shit, “C’mon, pet me” He grinned, bringing you back in earth, happily humming when you playfully rolled your eyes and sat beside him, letting your fingers graze over his abs, rubbing his tummy up and down. 

“Happy now?” You cocked an eye brow while he nodded, closing his eyes and started falling asleep, the collar still staring right back at you. 

Sitting so pretty on his thick neck. 

Black leather with that delicate little bell-

“Very” He mumbled, half asleep, soon dozing off completely. 

The fucker kept it on the whole day.

And it was driving you insane.

You knew he was near by because every time he moved, it would ring ever so softly, courtesy of his ability to walk so quietly from his assassin training. The collar was taunting you at this point. Delicate little rings everywhere he went. 

You nearly lost your absolute shit when Steve and Sam cackled at the fact that he was in a cat collar. It wasn’t the teasing that drove you up the wall. It was the way Steve inspected the bell and the way Bucky tilted his head up like a little puppy to give them a better view, Steve’s large hand tracing around the leather, if only it was your hand, curving around his neck, your good boy sitting so patiently- 

Relax. 

What the fuck was going on with you. 

You’d managed to get through the day without busting another brain cell, sitting against the headboard with a book while Bucky got ready for bed. 

“Babe, can you help take this off?” Bucky strolled in the room, fresh from his shower, droplets of water trailing down his body, disappearing into the towel that was wrapped around his waist, that fucking collar ringing every time he moved. You couldn’t help but sigh at how cute he looked, cheeks flushed from the heat of the water, little jingles ringing as he came over to you. He sat by your side, lazily flopping over onto your lap, while you carded your fingers through his damp hair. 

“You look so cute” You giggled, ignoring the way your pulse was beating quicker, body feeling hot, he looked so fucking pretty- 

“Yeah? You think I’d make a good pet?” He asked playfully, nuzzling into your lap, a deep rumble emitting from his chest when you grazed your nails against his scalp. You continued to massage down his back, his body flexing and adjusting, making the towel around his waist slip, giving you a glimpse of his perfectly toned ass, back muscles rippling. 

“Fuck” You whimpered, you tried so hard to will away the filth that was plaguing your mind again, hoping Bucky wouldn’t notice but he did. He most certainly did. He smirked to himself, he could practically smell you arousal, nudging his face between your legs before sitting up and kneeling in front of you. 

He was bare naked, thighs splayed apart while he sat back on his heels, his cock hard, standing tall and proud against his tummy, leaking at the tip. The only thing he had on was still that fucking collar, the twinkling silver taunting you. 

“There something you like, doll?” He cooed, shamelessly letting your eyes rake up and down his body, giving you the most perfect view of his heavy balls, his swollen pink tip, his perfect peach nipples, his pillowy soft lips. 

“You just look-so pretty with this on” You whispered, sitting up, tracing your fingers around the leather, flicking the bell lightly, continuing to trace over his Adams apple, “Don’t take it off yet” You whispered, letting your hand caress down his body, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him to lie back on the mattress, throwing off your pj’s while his mouth watered seeing you so feral. 

His pretty girl so needy all because he was in a cat collar. 

“Be my good boy, baby” you cooed, trailing kisses from his neck to his shoulders before tugging his nipples in your mouth, flicking your tongue over them, making him whine. You giggled, blowing over them, watching them peak as you continued to make your way down, finally reaching his aching cock. 

You licked up a drop of precum that was leaking out, your tongue just grazing over his sensitive glans making him moan.

“Oh god” Bucky’s eyes rolled back at the feeling of you teasing his slit with your tongue, his hips lifting off the bed to chase more of your mouth. You pushed your tongue against his cockhead slightly making him hiss, gripping the sheets, nearly tearing them, “Please baby, take it all in your mouth” 

You lightly smacked the side of his thigh to stop his squirming, wrapping your lips around the tip, sucking more of his length, loving how broken he sounded, unable to keep still. You sucked and licked every bit of him, getting his balls wet, nipping his sensitive inner thighs. You couldn’t take the feeling of being empty anymore, straddling his erection, pressing your bare cunt on him, covering his length in your slick. 

“You’re soaked” He groaned, feeling your arousal drip all over him, grabbing your hips to rub his cock on you more. 

“You wanna fuck me, baby?” You teased, taking his cock in your hand and lining it up with your entrance, pressing the tip just enough to make him sob without taking his full length, “Wanna put your cock in me?” 

“Please, let me fuck you, I’ll make you feel so good baby” He groaned, biting his lip as you started to sink down on his cock. You didn’t get the chance to ride him; as soon as his entire length was in you, he planted his feet and slammed your hips down to meet his thrusts, fucking up into you like a sexdoll. 

“B-BUCKKY” You squealed, broken moans leaving you lips as he fucked up into you harder, grunting and moaning, the collar around his neck just tight enough to make him pant. 

“Take it baby, you like me like this? Like me in a little collar just for you?” He looked at you with glassy eyes, his jaw slack, a thin sheen of sweat glistening off his skin. The soft rings the bell made each time he thrusted up into you made your pussy clench, making your orgasm barrel towards you within no time. 

“Fucking me so good Bucky, keep going babyy” You moaned while he gripped your hips harder, determined to do such a good job for you, angling his hips to make your belly bulge. “I-I’m gonna-FUCK BUCKY” You brought your hand down to rub your clit, grinding down on his cock as your pussy started to flutter and pulse, gripping his cock with a vice like grip. 

Your other hand flew to his neck; his eyes grew wide when you tugged at the collar, choking him slightly, a pornographic moan escaping his lips, his cock immediately throbbing. 

“OH GOD M’GONNA CUMMM!” Bucky started to lose his pace, giving you harsh sloppy thrusts, the sounds of skin on skin and wetness squelching filling the room as he fucked all his cum into you. You slumped on top of him, out of breath while he thrusted as best as he could to get you both through your highs, whining and whimpering at the way he cock continued to drip. 

You snuggled into the crook of his neck, kissing his hot skin, smiling against the black material that was still around him, the bell ringing as you toyed with it. 

“You’re keeping that collar” You panted while Bucky let out a breathless chuckle, still reeling over his orgasm, body still jolting from the after shocks. 

“Damn right”