#dead series please reblog this I’m desperate

[timeboundterra]

Does ANYONE know who made the splatoon comic with Pearl and Marina where they’re playing video games and there’s voice chat, and pearl absolutely OBLITERATES Marina’s headphones and she just goes “I’m loud” >:3 like the little gremlin she is?

Like could someone link it or like. Reblog it and tag me???

[violettwrites]

the fall — daryl dixon

a/n: hi guys !! sorry i have been so mia recently, life has just been crazy and work is insane coming into the christmas season. my laptop is currently away for repairs so i wrote this on my phone — please bear with me if there’s any mistakes. im hoping to have that back soon !

if you enjoy this, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment ! your support always means the world to me

summary: daryl loses you during the start of the apocalypse, and then he finds you again.

( this can be read as just daryl dixon from season 1 OR apart of my trailer park!daryl series ! they both work together so it's completely up to you! )

word count: 2,110

warnings: swearing

resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight

➵ masterlist

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“(y/n)?!” daryl’s voice crackled over the phone as you stood in the emergency room, one hand pressed against your ear while the other held the phone to your other ear, trying to make sense of the words daryl was saying over the chaos of the building. the emergency department you worked in was teetering on the edge of an explosion— patients were pouring in, people were screaming, and you could hear ominous groans and growls coming from behind curtains.

“(y/n), can you hear me?!”

daryl’s voice sounded frantic through the static. you could picture him, sitting in the passenger seat of merle’s truck, hand gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles were probably white. you knew he was panicking, probably punching merle’s shoulder to drive faster, to get to you.

“daryl, i—” you started, but gunshots cut through your words. the loud crack of bullets echoed through the hallways. your heart raced as you whipped your head toward the sound, seeing military soldiers in riot gear filing into the hospital, trying to contain what they could.

“shit!” daryl’s voice shouted on the other end, hearing the gunfire through the phone. “what was that?! are you okay?!”

“i don’t know,” you spoke softly, but your voice remained panicked, ducking around a corner as you tried to figure out a way out of the hospital without getting caught in the crossfire. “the military’s here, dar. it’s bad, real bad.”

you could hear merle cursing in the background through the phone, his voice sharp with confusion and fear. he was probably just as pissed as daryl, not wanting to wait around.

“we’re comin’ for ya,” daryl said, his voice firm despite the panic you knew was coursing through him. “jus’ stay where you are.”

“no—” you shook your head, though it was pointless because he couldn’t see you. but you knew that staying in one place would only get you, or them, killed. “it’s not safe here. you need to go, daryl. get outta the city.”

daryl didn’t like how firm your voice was now, like you had accepted your fate. but he also knew you were strong, and you could hold yourself. it was everyone else he wasn’t comfortable with. “i’m not leavin’ without ya!” his words were clipped, but you could hear the desperation seeping through. “jus’ tell me where to find ya.”

“you swallowed hard, ducking down a hallway as more gunshots rang out behind you. “i’ll find you. just go!”

“not an option,” daryl growled, clearly getting more frustrated. “we’re comin’ to get ya.”

“daryl, i swear to god, just go!” you shouted, your voice shaking. you knew you had to make him leave. the city was falling apart, and if he stayed any longer, he wouldn’t make it out alive.

and then, the line went dead.

you stared at the phone for a second, frozen, before shoving it into your pocket. you couldn’t waste time standing there. you needed to survive. you needed to find a way back to him.

the months that followed were a blur. everything crumbled so fast— society, infrastructure, order. the infection spread quicker than anyone had anticipated, and soon, the world was unrecognisable. you’d managed to survive by keeping to the outskirts of the cities, staying on the move, scavenging what you could. it had been a battle to stay alive, but you never stopped thinking about getting back to daryl.

each day, you held onto the hope that he was still out there. that he, and merle, had made it. you had to believe he was still alive. it was the only thing that kept you going.

one day, after weeks of wandering, you had heard rumors from a group of survivors about a camp up near the quarry. a group had settled there, and something in your gut told you to go. you shoved what little you had into your bag and made your way towards the quarry, hoping against hope that daryl would be there.

daryl sat on the outskirts of the atlanta camp, absentmindedly sharpening his knife as he stared out into the treeline. his mind wasn’t on the task though. it hadn’t been for weeks. ever since the outbreak started, ever since he lost contact with you, he hadn’t been able to focus on much of anything.

merle was his usual self— bossy, loud, and always looking for trouble. but daryl? he was quieter these days, more withdrawn. every hunt he went on, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for you, his eyes scanning every inch of the woods, hoping for a glimpse of you.

but every time, he came back empty handed.

he’d given up hope of hearing from you over the phone weeks ago, but he couldn’t give up the idea of finding you. you were out there somewhere— he just knew it.

“hey! you gonna sit there all damn day, or you gonna help me with this firewood?” merle’s voice cut through his thoughts, causing him to grit his teeth and ignore his older brother. he was tired of merle’s shit.

daryl stood up, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder without a word. he made his way towards the tree line, scanning the area out of habit. the camp wasn’t the safest; no walls, walkers always lurking, and the occasional survivor that would wander too close for comfort, but they had done a good job keeping it secure. for now.

just as he was about to head back, movement caught his eye. daryl squinted, grip tightening on the strap of his crossbow as a figure stumbled out of the woods. for a moment, he thought it was just another survior— a poor soul lost and scared like the rest of them. but then his heart skipped a beat.

it was you.

“(y/n)?” the words ripped out of him before he could stop it, and in an instant, he was running toward you, his legs carrying him faster than he thought was possible. you looked different— thinner, worn down, like you had walked through hell. but it didn’t matter. you were alive.

your eyes met his, and the world around you seemed to fall away. after weeks, months— you weren’t sure. but you had finally found him.

“daryl,” you breathed out, your voice weak but full of relief.

he didn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest, holding you tight. you could feel the rapid thump of his heart against your ear, the warmth of his body grounding you in a way nothing else had since the world fell apart.

“i thought i lost ya,” daryl muttered, his voice rough and his breath warm against your neck.

you held him tighter, your fingers gripping the back of his shirt under his crossbow like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. “i’m here,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “i’m here.”

for a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other and letting the weight of the time split up crash down around you. all the fear, the uncertainty, the loss— it all seemed to fade in that moment.

when you finally pulled back, daryl kept his hands on your shoulders, like he needed to keep touching you to make sure you were real. his eyes scanned your face, taking in every detail.

“merle?” you asked softly, knowing daryl’s older brother never strayed far from his side.

“he’s back at camp,” his voice steadying. “still a pain in the ass.”

you let out a weak laugh, the sound foreign after so long without joy. “figures.”

“come on,” he said, his hand lingering on your arm as he started to lead you back toward the camp. “you need to get some rest.”

the camp was quiet as the two of you entered, the crackle of the campfire being the only sound besides the soft rustle of leaves. merle spotted you first, his eyes narrowing before recognition flashed across his face.

“well, i’ll be damned,” merle said, leaning back with a grin. “look who finally showed up.”

you met merle’s eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “good to see you too, merle.”

daryl guided you to a spot by the fire, his hand never leaving yours as if he couldn’t bear to let go. you settled beside him, exhaustion finally catching up to you. but for the first time in months, you felt safe. you were with daryl. that was all that mattered.

as the fire crackled in front of you, it’s orange glow casting flickering shadows on your face, you leaned back against a log and let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. the tension in your shoulders loosened ever so slightly, but the weight of everything you’d been through was still pressed on your chest. your eyes flickered to daryl beside you— his presence was grounding, familiar, something solid in a world that felt like quicksand.

he hadn’t let go of your hand, his rough fingers wrapped around yours as if he was afraid that if he did let go, you’d disappear again. you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way this had all worn on him too. daryl wasn’t one to talk about feelings or admit when things hurt him, but you knew him better than that. the silence between you wasn’t awkward; it was full of unspoken understanding. you had both lost too much to let go of each other now.

merle started to wander off toward his tent, mumbling something about needing sleep. “you two lovebirds catch up,” he teased, but it was half-hearted. he wasn’t cruel like he used to be— at least not to you.

as soon as his brother disappeared into his tent, daryl finally spoke, his voice low, like he was afraid to break the moment. “how’d ya make it?” he didn’t ask out of disbelief, he knew you were tough, but it was out of curiosity, needing to fill in the blanks of your absence.

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, staring into the fire. the memories of being on your own flooded back; sleepless nights, close calls with walkers, finding shelter in abandoned houses, and the hunger that gnawed at your stomach daily. “i just kept moving,” you shrugged, your words so quiet they were almost drowned out by the crackle of the fire. “after that day at the hospital, i knew i couldn’t stay. i had no idea where i was going though, but i knew i had to keep going.”

daryl nodded, his eyes fixed on you, listening intently. he wasn’t the type to press you fore more details, but you could see the questions in his gaze. you gave him a small smile, trying to ease his worry. “i thought about you every day,” you admitted, your voice cracking slightly. “it was the only thing that kept me going sometimes. knowing you were out there, somewhere.”

you watched as his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he processed your words. “i looked for ya,” he muttered, his voice rougher than before. “everywhere we went, i looked. really thought i lost ya.” the raw emotion in his voice made your heart twist. you reached out and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently.

“you didn’t lose me. i’m right here.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke. daryl’s hand found yours again, his grip firm, but this time it wasn’t just out of fear. it was something more— something unspoken but heavy between you.

“you gonna stick around now?” he asked, his voice quiter than before, almost hesitant. “stay with the group?”

you hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead yet. the idea of settling down in this camp, was both comforting and terrifying. you knew it wouldn’t be the last time you have to move, but you knew one thing for sure— you weren’t about to leave daryl again. “if you’ll have me,” you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

daryl gave you a quick, almost unnoticeable nod, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “ain’t goin’ anywhere without ya now,” he said gruffly, the tenderness in his words barely masked by his usual demeanour.

the firelight danced in his eyes, and for the first time in months, you felt like you could breathe again. you leaned your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. his presence was steady and warm beside you, and for the first time since the world had gone to shit, you allowed yourself to feel safe.

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #1 (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: After being dead on this account for years, like Christ (or bread?), I have risen (I'm not religious). The point is, if you are new to this series, welcome! I am rewriting this series for myself (and anyone still reading after all this time). It is something I want to see through and that I loved re-reading all these years later. The original reception was so warm and lovely, sometimes making me feel guilty for leaving so abruptly. I loved every reblog, comment, tag, and like for this series. I hope that if you're still here, you like the remake. This series DOES contain sensitive matters such as kidnapping, death, torture, sexual themes, and more. If you struggle with this material please know you are not alone and always reach out for help. I will be making a new masterlist once I have more chapters out. Please let me know what you think and enjoy! - Much love, Em <3

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Next Chapter: Tape #2

WARNING: stalking, mention of kidnapping, blood, cursing, and sensitive material ahead.

Tape Contents: You start recording videos for the BAU once you find out you have a stalker.

Word Count: 2,196

Tape #1- December 29, 20XX

Your face looks a little apprehensive as you move away from the webcam on your computer. Your eyes flick off the screen, leaning forward to read something as if you had planned out a script for yourself. You wave at the camera, offering the lens a weak and shy smile. Your posture slumps for a second, letting out a prolonged sigh. “I,” you frown at the camera, “I’m not good at talking to myself on video, it seems.” 

“I guess bluntness might be a saving grace for both of us,” you whisper as you play with a ring on your middle finger, sliding it up and down your finger, “You know that feeling you get when you’re driving home late at night and you think to yourself, ‘Oh my god. I think that car behind me is following me.’ I think it all started with that.” A hand reaches for your hair, and you timidly move a stray strand away from your eyes. 

“I tried everything I could think of and kept turning randomly, but it was too late. I would rush up to my apartment, and across the street would the same red van every fucking weekend. I tried to get the plate one day as I watched them leave from my window, but no such luck.” You swallow thickly, your voice suddenly full of emotion. 

A sad smile crosses your face as you shake your head, “Fucking dumb, this is so fucking dumb.” you cry softly as tears dance along your lash line. You take a deep breath and push your shoulders back in a desperate attempt to regain your composure. 

You hold up a wilted, purple rose. Loose petals fall as you twist the stem between your thumb and index. “Got this last night, just on my windshield.” You mutter with a tone of disdain. “Don’t even like roses.” you joke lightly as you set the rose on your desk. 

“I’m going to the police tomorrow. I just… thought maybe doing this would make me feel better,” you pause and let out a bitter laugh, leaning toward the camera, “It hasn’t.” 

Then the screen goes black. 

Tape #2- January 3, 20XX. 

Your eyes have bags under them, and you gently rub the bridge between them. “So, got told off by the police.” 

You lean back in your desk chair and shake your head before pointing accusingly at the camera. “Went to the station, brought my stupid fucking rose and everything. They told me they would patrol the area. Of course, what car do I not see across the street anymore? That fucking red van. Guy told me that I was just imagining things.” 

You relax for a second before speaking again, your shoulders squaring defensively. “And! And, the second they leave, guess who is back again. Every single weekend, 7 pm to 11 pm.” You let out a weary sigh and rest an arm on your desk, staring directly into the camera. 

“The Police said they couldn’t even do anything until something boarding physical assault happens.” You trail off with a sideways glance away from the screen. 

“I’m not going to just sit idly by waiting to get assaulted.” You hiss out, leaning forward and stopping the video. 

Tape #3- January 14, 20XX 

You’re playing with the edges of your sweater as you lean back into your chair, rocking slightly. “Got another love present today,” Your voice distant as you pull a Polaroid from the desk, holding it up for the camera to see. 

The Polaroid was of you at the library where you worked. You were sitting in a striped sweater, your hair down. You were smiling at one of the volunteers who works ‘story hour.’ You threw the picture back on the desk with a grimace. 

“No one told me that my sweater that day looked so hideous.” You croak out in a desperate attempt to make yourself laugh in the moment, and for a second, it works. You start with a slight chuckle, but it quickly takes a sharp turn for the worst and becomes a full-on sob. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before you wipe tears from under your eyes, “I’m just scared. My mom and I talked about it, and she said that maybe it was a ‘secret admirer,’ which… does not make it any better. I feel like everyone thinks I’m fucking crazy.” Your voice raises before you cut yourself off and look down at your sweater again. 

“I’m not,” 

Camera off.

Tape #4- January 17, 20XX

You smile at the camera and scoot a little closer. “Hey,” you say with a gentle sigh of relief, “Great news—I’m organized!”

You lean back and relax in your chair slightly, “So I’m Y/N L/N. I work as a librarian here in Richmond, Virginia. My apartment will be in my records, I’m sure.” You laugh out softly, holding up a photo of a tattoo that seems to reside on your lower collarbone. 

“I didn’t want to flash the camera, so I took the liberty of taking a photo of this lovely tattoo of mine,” you say, glancing at the photo of the line-art floral tattoo next to your face. “If you think this doesn’t seem like me… well, you’re partially right. I was drunk in Vegas for my twenty-first birthday, and then I woke up missing a good chunk of money and a tattoo.” You shrug as you slowly set the photo on your desk. 

“I’m not trying to freak anyone out if they do see this. I just…” you pause, releasing a slow and controlling breath, “I want to be found if I do go missing. I want to be easily identified if I’m not alive. I want people to know I was a person and not just a body, you know?” You let your lips grow into a weak smile, nodding slightly, seeming to agree with yourself. 

“I’m making these to help myself, to feel like I have more control. The presents stopped recently, but they’re still watching me every weekend. It feels like it's about to get worse. I can’t explain it. I’m not trying to make the police feel bad. I just… don’t like going down without a fight.” 

“Speaking of not going down without a fight,” You reach over to grab a photo and proudly turn it over to the camera. “You know who this is?” You ask your silent audience. “This is the lovely Jennifer Jareau.” You answer with a weak smile, feeling strange as you talk with yourself. 

“I decided to beg the police to email this video folder to her. Currently, just the police have this, as I’m annoying and persistent but also very charming. That’s a lie. My coworker's boyfriend’s friend works at the station. Hopefully,” You swallow gently as the photo slips away from your fingers. “Hopefully, they won’t have to send it to her and the BAU team, but in the unfortunate case, she does see this.” You smile, wave a little, mouth a soft ‘hello,’ and lean forward—screen black. 

Tape #5- February 10, 20XX

You’re wearing a red, pink, and white striped sweater with a white headband pushing your hair back as the camera focuses again on you. “Happy Early Valentine’s Day to everyone who got a gift from their stalker on the top of their car today,” you say with mock happiness before your smile falls, and you hold up a copy of Wuthering Heights. 

You flip through the pages before stopping on one and facing it toward the camera, trying to get it to focus, but you quickly find the task irritating. You groan and decide to read the line, “Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad.”

“That's one of the lines circled, underlined, and highlighted…” You say, flipping through more pages slowly. 

“The only scenes highlighted seem to involve Heathcliff and Catherine, which are romantic scenes, of course, but just that one quote is emphasized.”  You say, shaking your head, and you laugh a little, setting the book somewhere outside the frame. 

“What a shitty gift, I already have a copy.” You joke before the screen turns black. 

Tape #6- February 14, 20XX

Your face is flush red, eyes swollen and raw from crying as you sit in front of the camera, speechless for a short amount of time. You look positively catatonic for a second, unmoving. The sound of you raking in a shaking breath scares you as you bring yourself to speak. Your face doesn’t match your attire, as you sport a sweater with a giant pink heart in the center and small heart-shaped earrings hanging from your ears. 

“They were in here,” your voice is soft and hoarse. “They were in here, everywhere. They left roses everywhere. They were in here! They got into my apartment and left dozens of rose petals on my bed, floors, couch, and kitchen table!” Your voice raises in volume as you cut yourself off, a small tear rolling down your cheek. 

“Something isn’t right,” You were shaking your head and letting out fast breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. “This is all getting so,” you raise your hands to run through your curls, pulling gently. “I need you to find me. I’m doing so much already. I went to the police station, and they searched everything: cameras, streets, but there was nothing! Just petals!” You yell softly, voice rasping softly at the end of your outburst. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” you mumble softly, tears filling your eyes. 

Tape #7- February 17, 20XX

You smile awkwardly at the camera and hold up Jane Eyre, opening it to a dog-eared page. “You are my sympathy --my better self --my good angel.” You read off the quote softly with a light sigh at the end of your reading. 

“Seems like we have a Brontë fan in our midst,” you try to be light-hearted as you set the book to the side. 

“I wrote down all my passwords, but it's not like you’ll need them. Nonetheless, you can never be too safe.” You quip the sentence in a soft voice. 

“I’m trying my hardest not to do anything crazy. I just, nevermind.” You say, annoyance thick in your voice as you shut the camera off quickly. 

Tape #8- March 2, 20XX

A terrible gnawing was growing in your stomach. Your hands clutched your waist gently as you leaned back in your chair. You felt like you might be sick as you stared off-camera toward your newest ‘gift.’ Your throat felt taut as you swallowed, a shaky sigh coming from your lips as your pale face looked at the camera. 

“I’m scared this might be my last video,” you say, your voice hoarse and tense, “It all just suddenly stopped. There was no more red van, no more gifts—nothing to write home about, but today,” 

You lean over to pull a pair of white, blood-soaked panties from a plastic bag into the frame. “These were on my door knob today when I got home. I tried not to touch it. I put it in this bag to ensure I didn’t contaminate it more. It doesn’t look like blood blood, more like period blood.” As you throw the bag back to your desk, your voice edges into an emotional tone, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

 “I think that they’re mine,” You cried softly, shaking slightly as you tried to control your breathing, “Th-the panties, not the blood. I haven’t, those can’t be from my period. Mine hasn’t come y-”

“I’m not going to be okay. I was stupid to think I might be, but I’m not!” You cry into your hands, and your shoulders shake as you let out a weak sob. “Please find me if I go missing. Please,” Tears fall on your cheeks as you lean toward the computer. 

“I need you to find me.” 

March 5, 20XX. 

A clicker is in J.J.’s hand as she turns off the videos. “Richmond PD sent this over this morning when twenty-eight-year-old Y/N L/N didn’t show up to her job,” She hands out folders as she speaks, “Her coworker called her mother to see if she had gone out of town when she said no. Y/N’s coworker’s boyfriend called a cop friend to check her apartment and found no trace of her or anyone else in her apartment. They sent this video folder over the second he called it in.” 

Spencer was frowning as he flipped through the pages of your file, hating the idea that you knew. He knew that dread, that feeling when something bad was about to happen to you. That innate and raw feeling that pushes through a person like a wave. He opens his mouth to say something, but Hotch is already speaking before he can get the chance to. 

“We leave here in ten,” He says before leaving the room, cutting everyone’s comments short in one small miraculous moment. 

Within ten minutes, the team finds themselves away from their jet, stuffed into groups in black SUVs, barreling toward Richmond. 

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 6 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Six: There's Blood On The Side Of The Mountain

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Attempted Su!c!de, Idealization of Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Attack,

Word Count: 9.2k (I’m sorry this is so long wtf)

A/N: Istg. Make sure you read ALL the warnings! This chapter is going to be sad by the way. It’s extra sad. Keep your chin up, girl. You got this. Also, yes, ofc the song I chose would be Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo, it makes sense tehe.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

KING’S LANDING, THE BATTLE PIT — DAY

From where you stand, the pit feels like a hollow reflection of King’s Landing itself—a stage for brutality, where bloodshed is applauded and violence wears the crown. Your sneer twists in disdain as you watch Ser Gregor "The Mountain" Clegane slice through a prisoner with disturbing ease, lifting the poor soul high on his greatsword. Blood streams from the prisoner’s mouth, his eyes wide in terror before The Mountain tosses him to the sand like discarded meat. The sound of his body hitting the ground is drowned out by the murmurs of the onlookers, but it echoes in your ears nonetheless.

Cersei watches, her eyes cold and calculating, as a line of prisoners stand chained, awaiting their fate. Each filthy, ragged figure, a nameless body lined up for slaughter. You feel a bitter twist in your gut—this spectacle, this violence—meant to terrify more than entertain.

One of the guards barks orders, shoving the next prisoner forward like livestock.

“Go on, move it,” the guard snaps, his tone indifferent to the man’s terror.

The prisoner stumbles forward, his trembling hands reaching for a meager weapon at his feet. You catch a glimpse of his wide, panicked eyes—he knows his fate. Still, he holds the weapon like it might mean his survival, like it might hold off the inevitable for even a few heartbeats longer. But the outcome is written in the blood that already stains the sand beneath him.

The first prisoner attacks The Mountain with desperation. He lunges, wild and reckless, but The Mountain is faster, his sword cleaving through flesh with a sickening ease. The prisoner’s body folds as he’s disemboweled in one stroke, his life ending in a gruesome heap at the giant’s feet. 

The next prisoner, shaking, drops his weapon entirely, sinking to his knees. Tears mix with the dirt on his face as he pleads for mercy.

“Mercy, please. Please, mercy,” the man cries, his voice breaking, filled with the kind of hopelessness that makes your chest tighten.

Cersei watches with an air of indifference, her lips curling ever so slightly as The Mountain delivers a series of savage overhead blows, reducing the prisoner to nothing more than a broken corpse. The sand beneath him darkens with blood, and you force yourself to keep watching, not out of morbid curiosity, but as a reminder. This is the city you’re in. These are the people who rule it.

Cersei steps forward, her gaze fixed on The Mountain. “Ser Gregor,” she says smoothly, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Welcome to the capital. Thank you for riding here so quickly.”

You note the lack of warmth in her tone, the way she speaks to him as though she were addressing a weapon, not a man. In truth, that’s exactly what The Mountain is to her—just another tool.

Cersei’s gaze flickers down to the bodies strewn about the pit. “You seem to be in good form.”

The Mountain’s reply is as cold as it is simple. “Who am I fighting?”

Cersei raises a brow, her expression as detached as ever. “Does it matter?”

The Mountain shakes his head. To him, it truly doesn’t. Flesh is flesh, no matter whose body it belongs to.

But you think otherwise.

As you stand there, your eyes narrowing at the towering figure of The Mountain, you wonder how many lives he has ruined, how many people have died in his shadow. A thought sharpens within you—among the things victims have lost, how many things can they ever truly reclaim? You can’t help but wonder if any of these prisoners were thinking the same, if their last thoughts were of the homes they’ll never return to, the families they’ve left behind.

It’s not justice they seek in these final moments. There’s no glory here. The only thing left to reclaim is their honor—what little remains of it. Some might hope for forgiveness, for mercy. But you know better. In King’s Landing, where the powerful feast on the misery of others, revenge is often the only way to regain even a fraction of that lost honor. Only then, in the pursuit of vengeance, can one truly begin again.

You look at Cersei, at The Mountain, and think to yourself, Forgiveness has no place here. Not in this city. Not when men like The Mountain are allowed to walk free, spilling blood for sport, for the amusement of those in power. No, here, revenge is the only way to claim victory, to bring balance to the scales. You keep your thoughts to yourself, but deep down, you know—glory through revenge may be the only true path to the starting point.

There are no second chances.

KING'S LANDING, TYRION'S CELL — EVENING

You knew Bronn was smart enough to fear the Mountain. One misstep, and anyone facing that monstrous man would be dead in an instant. Yet, as you moved quietly through the shadowed halls, following Oberyn down to Tyrion’s cell, an unsettling dread filled you. Oberyn had already made up his mind. His determination was palpable, and it terrified you.

You’d trained yourself to move unseen, your footsteps silent on the cold stone floors of King’s Landing. Perhaps Oberyn knew you were trailing him, but he didn’t seem to care. His confidence radiated from him like the warmth of the torch he carried, unwavering, even as you concealed yourself in the shadows.

Inside the cell, Tyrion sat in the dark, his posture heavy with defeat. The door creaked open, and you pressed yourself against the wall, listening intently.

Oberyn stepped inside, his torch casting flickering light across the damp, narrow space.

"I imagined you'd be back at the brothel at this hour," Tyrion remarked, his voice filled with a bitter, tired amusement.

Oberyn’s tone was smooth, as it always was, with a hint of mischief. "I did spend some time with an absolutely stunning blonde the other day."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the mention, a sharp twinge twisting in your chest. But you kept your eyes on the scene before you, your heart quickening as their exchange continued.

"Do tell," Tyrion replied, managing a slight smirk. "I've got every kind of filth down here except the kind I like."

Oberyn placed his torch down, the flame casting shadows that flickered along the walls as he took a seat beside Tyrion. The light softened his features but couldn’t chase away the gravity in his words. 

"Your sister," Oberyn said.

"Oh," Tyrion replied, his expression falling.

You relaxed slightly as the realization settled within you. Oberyn had meant Cersei. The tension in your chest eased, but the conversation soon shifted, becoming darker.

"Cersei approached me. We spoke a great deal about her daughter," Oberyn explained, his voice lowering. "How worried your sister is about her. She was trying very hard to pretend she had not come to sway me against you. I think she may have even believed it herself."

A small smile tugged at your lips. Oberyn was always clever, always able to see through the intricate webs of deception spun by those in King’s Landing. It was a quality you both admired and envied.

"Making honest feelings do dishonest work is one of her many gifts," Tyrion said with a grim chuckle, leaning against the wall.

"It was difficult for her to hide her true intentions," Oberyn continued, his voice calm but full of insight. "It is rare to meet a Lannister who shares my enthusiasm for dead Lannisters. She desperately wants to see you killed."

"She didn't need to bother you," Tyrion responded with a bitter laugh. "It looks as though I've taken care of that myself. The joy she will feel when my head leaves my neck... She’s wanted this for a long time."

Oberyn’s gaze darkened slightly, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. "Yes, I know. We met, you and I, many years ago."

Tyrion blinked, looking puzzled. "I think I would have remembered that."

"Unlikely," Oberyn replied, his tone shifting as he recalled the memory. "You had just been born. Our father brought me and my sister Elia with him on a visit to Casterly Rock. My first time away from Dorne. I didn’t like anything about the Rock. Not the food, not the weather, your accents. Nothing." His voice hardened as he continued. "But the biggest disappointment... was you."

Tyrion’s face fell, his usual armor of sarcasm failing him. "You and my family have more in common than you might admit," he muttered.

You watched closely, frowning as Oberyn recounted his tale. You understood disappointment more than anyone. After all, your own mother had cast you away the moment you were born, sending you to a life of servitude.

Oberyn continued, "The whole way from Dorne, all anyone talked about was the monster that had been born to Tywin Lannister. A head twice the size of his body, a tail between his legs, claws, one red eye, the privates of both a girl and a boy."

Tyrion forced a smile, though it was joyless. "That would have made things so much easier."

"When we met your sister," Oberyn said, leaning forward, "she promised she would show you to us. Every day we would ask. Every day she would say, ‘Soon.’ Then, finally, she and your brother took us to your nursery, and..." He paused, his gaze intense as he spoke the next words. "She unveiled the freak."

Tyrion’s expression remained stoic, though you could see the faint hurt in his eyes. Oberyn continued, his voice cold but full of truth. "Your head was a bit large. Your arms and legs were a bit small. But no claw, no red eye, no tail between your legs. Just a tiny pink cock. We didn’t try to hide our disappointment."

Oberyn’s face hardened as he remembered the moment. "That’s not a monster," I told Cersei. "That’s just a baby."

You swallowed hard, fighting the wave of emotion as you listened. You knew cruelty well—perhaps better than anyone in that room.

"And she said," Oberyn continued, his voice heavy with disgust, "‘He killed my mother.’ Then she pinched your little cock so hard, I thought she might pull it off. Until your brother made her stop. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told us. ‘Everyone says he will die soon. I hope they are right. He should not have lived this long.’"

You felt a lump in your throat as tears threatened to well up in your eyes. How cruel could Cersei truly be?

Tyrion’s voice cracked slightly, though he tried to keep his tone casual. "Well... sooner or later, Cersei always gets what she wants."

"And what about what I want?" Oberyn’s voice was sharp now, full of purpose. "Justice. For my sister and her children."

Tyrion’s gaze darkened, his voice low. "If you want justice, you’ve come to the wrong place."

"I disagree," Oberyn said, rising to his feet. The flickering torchlight cast deep shadows on his face, highlighting the fierce determination in his eyes. "I’ve come to the perfect place."

You watched him closely, your heart racing. You knew what was coming, but you were powerless to stop it.

"I want to bring those who have wronged me to justice," Oberyn continued, his voice steady, each word a promise. "And all those who have wronged me are right here. I will begin with Ser Gregor Clegane, who killed my sister’s children and then raped her with their blood still on his hands before killing her too."

Oberyn turned to Tyrion, his voice echoing in the dim cell. "I will be your champion."

Your heart plummeted, the weight of his words crushing you. No. You’d seen it—the vision that haunted your every step. Oberyn’s demise. His fate, as cruel and certain as the tides.

As the heavy door creaked open, the flickering torchlight danced across the stone walls, casting deep shadows in Tyrion’s cell. You watched from the darkened corridor, your breath shallow as Oberyn stepped out, the light fading with him as the door slowly shut behind. Darkness swallowed the room once more, the soft click of the latch sealing the quiet tension that hung in the air.

For a few heartbeats, you stood there, your hand pressed against the cool stone wall, the lingering warmth of Oberyn’s presence still felt in the space he had just left. Then, with silent determination, you slipped into the cell.

Tyrion, huddled in the shadows, looked up at the sound of your approach, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The small torch outside barely cast enough light to illuminate your figure as you slowly pulled back your hood. His tense expression softened with relief.

“I thought you were an assassin sent by Cersei to kill me,” Tyrion murmured, his voice a mix of dry humor and genuine fear.

You tilted your head slightly, a faint, cold smile playing on your lips. “You’re wrong on one of those things.”

Tyrion’s face tensed, the weight of your words unsettling him for a moment. His sharp mind was already working through possibilities, but before panic could fully settle in, you took a step closer.

“I’m not here to kill you,” you said softly, your voice calm but with an edge of bitterness. 

Tyrion let out a shaky breath, his shoulders easing slightly as he watched you carefully. You walked across the small cell, the sound of your steps soft on the cold stone. Taking a seat near one of the wooden poles, you leaned back against it, the silence between you both thick with unspoken truths.

“Do you recognize me?” you asked, your voice low, a challenge hidden in the question.

Tyrion furrowed his brow, studying your face. “You’re one of Sansa’s maids,” he finally said, his tone uncertain.

You nodded slowly. “Just a servant, if anything. But yes.” Leaning forward, you began rolling up your sleeves, exposing your arms in the pale sliver of moonlight that crept through the small barred window. The scars, the burns, every mark of torment etched into your skin told a story of survival. 

“Do you know the rumors?” you asked, your voice harder now.

Tyrion’s face shifted, a shadow of horror crossing his features as realization dawned on him. “You… you survived…”

Your eyes, cold and lifeless, met his. A small, bitter smile flickered on your lips as your jaw clenched. “Yes,” you said, leaning back against the wall, your arms folding across your chest. “Your reputation becomes rumors, and rumors become your reputation. That’s how it works, doesn’t it?”

Tyrion swallowed, clearly unsettled by the weight of your words. "Did you… did you poison Joffrey?" His voice was quiet, but the question held a note of accusation.

You shook your head, your expression flat. “No. I may have set the plan in motion, but they caused their own ruin.”

Tyrion’s eyes searched yours for deception, but when he found none, he nodded, accepting your words as truth.

“No one recognized me, not for the longest time,” you continued, your voice quiet, introspective. “Until… Prince Oberyn. Of course, he would. Every bit of information about his sister’s death... he sought it all. His own kind of hell.”

Tyrion remained silent, watching you closely as you spoke. 

“I sometimes wonder,” you mused, your eyes distant as you stared at the stone floor. “The solidarity between victims, and the solidarity between perpetrators. Which of them is stronger?”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, the sound hollow. “I’ve spent years in this place. Pouring wine, slicing pies, fetching, folding. Day after day, step by step. Every moment leading to this point.” You scoffed softly, your frustration evident. “Keeping myself going… it’s exhausting. I’m so tired of it.”

Tyrion exhaled shakily, his eyes filled with a deep understanding of that particular weariness.

“Oberyn… he has been kind to me. He is the only joy in my unfortunate life,” you said, your voice softening at the mention of him. “He has eight daughters waiting for him. Depending on him. I can’t let him throw his life away. Not for this.”

Tyrion’s brow furrowed, confusion and disbelief crossing his features. “So… you plan to kill me yourself, then?” His voice held a strange mix of resignation and curiosity.

You shook your head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “No.”

Tyrion’s confusion deepened as you met his gaze, your voice steady as you spoke the next words. “I will be your champion instead of Oberyn.”

For a long moment, there was only silence. Tyrion stared at you, incredulous. “Forgive me for saying this, but… Oberyn would never allow a lady such as yourself to fight a beast like the Mountain.”

Your eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something dangerous flashing across your face. “You of all people should know what it means to be underestimated, Lord Tyrion.” Your voice was cold but not unkind. “It just means I have nothing left to lose.”

Tyrion’s gaze softened as he understood the gravity of your words. This was no grand act of heroism. No selfless gesture. “I’m not fighting for you,” you admitted, your voice low. “This is purely selfish. Oberyn deserves justice, as much as I do, but I can’t let him die. Not when I’ve come this far. I will die on my own terms.”

“He has a chance. How are you so sure that he will—”

“I’m sure. I’ve seen it. Gods, I’ve seen it.”

Tyrion studied you for a moment longer, his face unreadable. “And how, exactly, do you plan to convince Oberyn to take your place?”

You smiled then, a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Leave that to me.”

The door to your quarters closed behind you with a soft thud. You leaned against it, letting out a long sigh. Tomorrow would be the day—victory or defeat, life or death. The weight of it pressed down on your chest, heavy as armor.

You took a step forward, lost in thought, when a figure in the shadows caught your eye. Heart racing, your hand instinctively reached for the dagger hidden beneath your cloak.

“Oberyn?” you breathed, startled. 

He emerged from the darkness, leaning casually against the wall with that familiar, mischievous grin. “Relax, little dove. If I wanted to surprise you, I’d have done a better job,” he teased, his voice smooth and playful.

Your breath caught in your throat. The sight of him here, in your private space, unnerved you—but not in the way you expected. “What are you doing in my quarters?” you asked, trying to steady yourself, your pulse still racing. 

Oberyn’s smile widened as he pushed away from the wall and stepped closer. “I came to see you. Is that not allowed?”

“I—” you stammered, the shock of his sudden appearance blending with the rising tension in the room. “You scared me.”

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good. You’re far too comfortable sneaking around King’s Landing. It’s time someone made you nervous.” His tone was light, but there was a warmth in his gaze that made your heart ache.

Your momentary fear melted away under his charm, but then your mind shifted, weighed down by the question that had been gnawing at you. You couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Oberyn,” you began, your voice growing serious, “have you known all along that I… approached you on purpose?”

His teasing expression faded, replaced by something softer, more knowing. “Yes,” he said quietly.

You blinked, thrown by his straightforward answer. “Since when?” you asked, stepping closer, your voice lowering. “How did you find out about the connection between me and your sister?”

Oberyn watched you for a moment, as though weighing how much to reveal. “I knew every detail of when and how she died along with every single rumor,” he said, his voice soft yet deliberate. “And you—” he gave you a small, almost fond smile—“you seem to be around the age that the child who served her would be now. I figured it out the moment I heard your accent.”

His words hit you like a sudden gust of wind. You had been careful, so careful, but of course Oberyn had seen through you.

“I knew from the start you would want to use me,” he continued, his voice like silk, though there was no accusation in it. “The brother of Elia. It made sense. When I put all the pieces together, I realized I was the man you needed. The one who would do your bidding without question.”

You swallowed, his words twisting something deep inside you. “And you were fine with that? Knowing I was using you for my revenge?”

He smiled, a sad, knowing smile. “I told myself I’d be of use to you. That I’d come running whenever you wanted to use me. Wherever it was, whatever it cost.” His dark eyes held yours, no longer teasing. “But I wanted to be there before your guilt caught up with you.”

Your breath hitched, the honesty in his voice cutting through your defenses. You tried to speak, but the words tangled in your throat. Oberyn’s hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch grounding you.

“When your sister died,” you finally whispered, “I thought I’d find someone to latch on to. So I approached you. Then I realized something—how could I even think of doing such a thing, just because I’m a victim? You’re a victim too.”

Oberyn’s gaze softened, and he let out a slow breath. “For a moment I thought I wasn’t your type,” he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But now… you have no reason to use me anymore. If you refuse me, it’ll be for love. Not for revenge.”

Your chest tightened as his words washed over you. Tears welled in your eyes, the weight of tomorrow’s trial pressing down like an iron hand around your throat. You knew what you had to do, the price you’d pay to save him.

Your voice trembled as the tears slipped down your cheeks. “Then… help me. Until the end.”

Oberyn stepped closer, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear. His dark eyes held yours, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t allowed yourself to see before. “I will serve you,” he said, his voice a quiet promise, “until the end.”

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP – EARLY MORNING

The first light of dawn filtered through the narrow window, casting a soft glow over the room. You had half-expected Oberyn to have slipped away in the night, seeking the comfort of Ellaria or losing himself in his vices. But when you woke, he was still there, lying beside you in the small, cramped bed that barely fit you both. His arm draped around your waist, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

The night before had been unexpected—no grand seduction, no teasing beyond his usual wit. Instead, you’d stayed up talking, sharing dreams and desires you thought long buried beneath the weight of revenge. It had been… peaceful, in a way you hadn’t known in years. For once, sleep had come easily, a deep and untroubled rest. But now, the morning was here, and with it came the knowledge of what you had to do.

You shifted carefully, trying to untangle yourself from his embrace without waking him. Oberyn mumbled something in his sleep, his grip tightening briefly before loosening as you gently pulled away. Slipping from the bed, you began dressing quietly, moving with the practiced ease of someone who had learned long ago how to move in the shadows.

As you buckled your tunic, you felt his eyes on you. Turning, you found Oberyn watching you from the bed, his dark eyes half-lidded and full of sleepy mischief. “Leaving me already?” he teased, his voice a husky murmur. “I was just getting comfortable.”

You couldn’t help but smile, though your heart ached with the weight of what you were about to do. “Someone has to get ready for the day,” you replied, forcing a lightness into your tone that you didn’t feel.

He sat up, the blanket falling from his chest as he stretched lazily. “You know, you could stay a little longer… I wouldn’t mind.”

Your throat tightened, but you masked it with a chuckle. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” you said softly as you crossed the room. The closer you got to him, the harder it became to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

Oberyn reached for you as you approached the bed, his fingers brushing your wrist before you leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss. It was passionate, raw, as though it carried every unsaid word between you—every regret, every longing. For a moment, you allowed yourself to drown in it, to feel the warmth of his skin, the press of his lips. But you knew you couldn’t stay there.

With a soft gasp, you pulled away, your heart hammering in your chest. His eyes were still clouded with desire, his breath uneven, when you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Before he could react, you pressed your fingers to a pressure point at the base of his neck. His body stiffened for a heartbeat before his eyes rolled back, and he slumped into unconsciousness. Your hand trembled as you laid him gently on the bed, your chest tight with the enormity of what you’d just done.

Tying him up was harder than you expected. The sheets you wrapped around his wrists felt like chains around your heart, binding you to this moment of betrayal. But it was necessary. He couldn’t stop you, and you couldn’t let him die for you. Not today. Not when he had so much left to live for.

You left a note by his side, your hand shaking as you scrawled the words. You told him the truth—Dorne needed him, his daughters needed him. He had a future. But you… you were already ruined, with no family, no purpose left beyond vengeance. If things had been different, perhaps you would have let yourself love him fully. Perhaps you could have been more than the ghosts of your pasts. But now… now you had to see this through, and he couldn’t follow you into the fire.

When you met Serena in the hall, she was waiting with a worried expression. You pressed a pouch of coins into her hand, whispering instructions she already knew. “Untie him when the trial ends,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "He must live."

Tears welled in her eyes, and she gripped your hands tightly, her voice breaking. “Please… don’t die. Come back.”

The words struck you harder than you expected. For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of how to respond. She pulled you into a hug, clinging to you as though she could stop you from leaving, from walking into the jaws of death. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you wrapped an arm around her, patting her back awkwardly. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words heavy with finality.

KING’S LANDING, FIGHTING PIT – DAY

The bells tolled in the distance, a grim reminder that the day had arrived. Tyrion shuffled out toward the arena, his chains clinking with every step. The Lannisters watched from their seats, and Ellaria stood nearby, her eyes scanning the crowd for Oberyn.

You stepped into view, the sunlight glinting off your armor. It was simple but well-made—light enough for movement, but sturdy where it mattered. No helmet yet, your hair loose as the breeze tugged at it. A dagger was strapped to your thigh, hidden from view, while your hand rested on the hilt of a long, slender sword—a weapon you had saved for, piece by piece, over the years. 

Tyrion’s gaze flicked to you, his brow furrowed with worry. “Look like very light armor,” he commented dryly.

You shrugged. “Not really.”

The Mountain loomed on the other side of the pit, fully armored and wielding a massive sword that seemed to cleave the air as he moved. Ellaria’s eyes widened as she looked between you and the towering figure before her. “You’re going to fight that?” she asked, alarmed.

You let out a sigh, your grip tightening on your sword. “Hopefully, I’m going to kill that.”

Ellaria’s hand shot out, gripping your arm. “Where is Oberyn?”

You met her gaze, your eyes steady. “He’s safe. I swear it.” You paused, glancing at the Mountain and then back at her. “Take care of him.”

Pycelle’s voice rang out across the arena, ancient and raspy. "In the sight of gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this… man, Tyrion Lannister. May the Mother grant them mercy. May the Father give them such justice as they deserve. And may the Warrior guide the hand of our champion..."

Tywin, bored and impatient, gestured for the fight to begin. The horns sounded, echoing through the arena.

You met Tyrion’s gaze one last time. He nodded to you, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “Good luck.”

You gave a small nod in return, your hand tightening on your sword hilt as you stepped into the pit. The Mountain loomed ahead, but this wasn’t about fear anymore. This was about survival, vengeance, and the weight of every choice you had ever made.

Today, you would fight. And one way or another, everything would change.

MAIDENVAULT, GUEST CHAMBERS

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

Oberyn awoke slowly, blinking against the morning light that filtered through the window. A dull ache settled in his neck, and when he tried to move, he found his arms pinned, bound to the bed with sheets tightly knotted around his wrists. His mind raced for answers, and then it hit him—you. He had kissed you, and then… darkness.

The sound of soft footsteps drew his attention. A young woman stood by the door, wringing her hands nervously. She was small, her eyes wide with a mix of guilt and fear. Oberyn narrowed his gaze, his voice hoarse. "Who are you?"

"I—I'm Serena," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m… a maid. She—she told me to wait until after the battle. I promised."

Oberyn’s heart pounded, realization dawning on him. “Untie me,” he demanded, his voice steady but urgent. “Now.”

Serena shook her head, biting her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t. I swore I wouldn’t, not until it was over. She made me promise. I—I’m sorry.”

Oberyn tugged against the bindings, frustration growing with each passing moment. His eyes scanned the bedside table, where a crumpled piece of parchment lay. His heart clenched. “What is that?” he asked, his voice barely a breath.

Serena hesitated, then stepped forward, placing the note in his hand.

Oberyn quickly unfolded the paper, recognizing your hurried scrawl. His eyes moved over the words, and with each line, the pit in his stomach deepened.

Oberyn,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I couldn’t let you fight, not when so much depends on you. Dorne needs you, your daughters need you. You have a future, Oberyn. I can’t let you throw it all away for my revenge.

This is my fight, not yours. I’ve been ruined long before we met, and there’s nothing left for me but this. No family, no husband, no purpose beyond this one thing.

If things had been different, maybe we could have found a better life together. But now, all I can do is ask for your forgiveness. You were the one good thing that happened to me, and for that, I thank you.

Serena will untie you when the trial ends. Don’t come after me. Please. Live, for Dorne, for your daughters. For the future you still have.

Goodbye, Oberyn.

The note trembled in his hands as Oberyn read it, his heart shattering with every word. His chest tightened, breath coming short as if the air had been stolen from him. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "No, no, no!"

He turned to Serena, his voice breaking. “Untie me. I beg you. I have to stop her.”

Serena’s eyes filled with tears, her lip trembling as she clutched the hem of her dress. “She—she made me promise. I’m supposed to wait until—”

“Damn the promise!” Oberyn roared, his desperation clawing at the edges of his voice. “She’s going to die, Serena! Do you understand that? She’s going to die, and I can’t let that happen. Please. Please, untie me. I can save her.”

Serena’s hands shook violently, her resolve crumbling. She looked at him, at the raw pain in his eyes, the pleading in his voice. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she struggled with the weight of your last request. “She said Dorne needs you,” Serena whispered. “She said you have so much to lose. I—I can’t...”

Oberyn’s voice cracked, softer now, filled with a grief that was almost unbearable. “I’ll lose her. Don’t you see? If you wait… it’ll be too late. I’ll lose her forever. She’s… everything. Please… untie me.”

Serena’s hands moved to the bindings, her fingers trembling as she hesitated one last time. “Promise me… promise me you’ll save her,” she whispered, choking on her sobs.

“I swear it,” Oberyn said, his voice raw with emotion. “I swear on my life. I will save her.”

With a deep breath, Serena finally gave in, loosening the knots and setting him free. As the sheets fell away, Oberyn leapt from the bed, his heart racing as he grabbed his cloak, his mind already on the trial and the bloodshed to come.

Serena watched him go, her hands trembling, knowing that she might have just sent him to his death.

KING’S LANDING, FIGHTING PIT — DAY

The sun beat down on the fighting pit, the crowd's chatter falling into murmurs as you stepped into the arena. Eyes followed you, curious, some confused. You were no one to them, just another faceless fighter stepping up to die. But you felt the weight of their stares, especially the piercing gaze of the Lannisters, high above on their platform, surveying the pit like vultures. They didn’t know who you were, not yet.

Your eyes found the Mountain, hulking and monstrous, towering over you with cold indifference. You raised your voice, cutting through the air, “Do you know who I am?”

Gregor Clegane’s laugh was deep and cruel. “Pity,” he spat, his voice loud enough to carry across the pit. “Some dead whore.”

He lunged. His sheer size made the earth quake beneath your feet, but you were ready. You dodged, his sword cleaving through the space you had been a heartbeat before. He was fast, impossibly fast for someone of his size, but you had spent years preparing for this moment. All those nights spent training, fighting men four times your size, all of it led to this.

As you spun out of his reach, you screamed out to the crowd, “I was the maid of Princess Elia Martell!”

A ripple of whispers spread through the spectators. The name Elia Martell always had that effect, even here in King’s Landing. The Mountain charged again, his blade whistling through the air. You blocked his strike, feeling the force of it reverberate through your arms, but you pushed back, slashing at the vulnerable joints in his armor. The soft spots.

Gregor stumbled but recovered quickly. He came at you again, enraged. “I'm going to hear you confess to all these people before you die,” you spat, circling him. “Tell them how you raped her. How you murdered her. How you killed her children.”

His next attack was brutal, a wild swing that glanced off your arm, leaving a burning line of pain. You gritted your teeth, ignoring the blood soaking into your sleeve. You were faster, smaller. You had to be smarter. And so, you fought, with the fury of someone who had waited their entire life for this moment.

“You raped her!” you screamed again, your voice ragged with rage and pain. “You murdered her! You killed her children!”

You moved in, quick as a viper, stabbing him deep in the gut. He faltered, his massive body reeling from the blow. But you knew better than to get close to a wounded beast. He caught you off guard, his enormous hand closing around your throat. You gasped, your sword clattering to the ground as you struggled in his grip. The world narrowed, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull hum as your vision blurred.

But then, with a final burst of strength, you reached for the daggers hidden at your thigh. In one swift movement, you sliced through the ligaments in his knees, then his ankles, his elbows, his shoulders—every joint you could reach. The Mountain dropped to his knees, immobilized, his weapon far from his reach.

The crowd gasped. You kicked his sword aside, watching as he floundered, his monstrous frame now reduced to helplessness. You sliced off his right hand, the brutal act met with stunned silence from the spectators.

Your boot pressed down hard against his throat, your voice raw with fury. “Confess!” you shouted, eyes blazing as the crowd murmured in shock. Leaning in closer, your voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “You may have forgotten but these people haven’t.”

The Mountain coughed, blood splattering from his lips, but still, he refused. So you pressed harder, forcing the confession from his broken body. “Confess!” you screamed, your voice cutting through the stillness.

“Elia Martell,” he rasped, his voice thick with blood. “I killed her children. Then I raped her.”

Your chest heaved, your body shaking as you stood over him, your heart pounding in your ears. “Do you remember me now?” you asked, seething, your voice a low, dangerous whisper.

Gregor’s eyes flickered with the faintest recognition, and then he growled, his voice thick with venom. “You’re the bitch I burned. I burned you, and I enjoyed every moment of it.”

The words hit you like a slap, a fresh wave of rage rolling over you. But this time, it wasn’t uncontrollable. It was cold, calculating. “That’s right,” you muttered, your eyes narrowing as you stared down at the man who had haunted your nightmares for so long.

Gregor Clegane, the monster you had spent your life waiting to kill, was bleeding out before you. The crowd was silent, frozen in shock, their disbelief palpable. You could feel their eyes on you, but you didn’t care. This wasn’t for them.

“Ser Gregor,” you sneered, “death is too kind of a punishment for an animal like you. I’m not a good person—I plan on becoming worse every day. But today, I will be kind.”

With that, you raised your longsword high and brought it down, severing his head with a clean, decisive stroke. Blood splattered across your face and armor, but you didn’t flinch. You stood there, breathing heavily, caked in dirt and blood, staring down at the lifeless body of the Mountain.

The crowd erupted into chaos, screams and cheers echoing around the pit. But you barely heard them. You turned slowly, your gaze drifting to the platform where Lord Tywin and Cersei stood, their faces pale with shock. They hadn’t expected this. No one had.

As you began to strip off your armor, the crowd’s cheers faded into a stunned hush. Piece by piece, you removed the heavy metal, letting it fall to the ground until you stood in the pit, exposed. Your skin, marred and scarred, told the story of your past, of the torment you had endured. The crowd gasped, some weeping at the sight of you. But your eyes—your eyes were empty, a void where once there had been pain. Now, there was nothing but calm.

Oberyn pushed through the throngs of people, heart pounding, eyes wild with panic as he scanned the crowd. The moment he stepped into the pit’s edge, his breath caught in his throat. His world stopped. You were there, in the middle of it all, a figure painted in blood and dust, screaming out for justice with a voice that could tear the heavens apart.

His heart clenched painfully at the sight of you, fury blazing in your eyes as you danced around the Mountain’s monstrous frame, every strike of your sword precise, every movement a testament to the fire that burned within you. You had trained for this. You were prepared. But watching you battle the creature who had haunted his nightmares, who had torn apart his sister and everything Oberyn held dear—it was more than he could bear.

His body surged forward on instinct, but Ellaria’s grip tightened around his arm, her fingers digging into his skin. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and anguish. “She’s chosen this.”

Oberyn’s breath hitched, his mind warring with itself. How could he stand here, watching the woman he cared for, the one person who seemed to understand his pain, fight alone? His every instinct screamed at him to run to you, to stop this madness, to be the one to end it for you. But Ellaria was right—this was your choice. You were fighting not just for Elia, but for yourself.

His prayers, silent and desperate, echoed in his mind. Keep her safe. Please, gods, let her live.

And then, just as the Mountain loomed over you one last time, bloodied but still alive, you moved like lightning. One moment, you were in his grip, your life hanging by a thread, and the next, you were free, your daggers flashing like vengeful stars as you cut him down, piece by piece, until the Mountain—the monster who had destroyed so many lives—fell to his knees, defeated.

Oberyn blinked, his heart in his throat, as the Mountain’s confession rang out across the arena. “Elia Martell. I killed her children. Then I raped her.”

A sickening wave of relief and horror washed over him. It was done. The Mountain had confessed. But you—gods, you were still standing, barely. Covered in blood and dirt, your scarred arms laid bare for the world to see, the evidence of the hell you had endured etched into your skin.

Tyrion, still chained but now free of the weight of death, was weeping with joy, unable to believe the miracle before him. You had won. The gods had chosen justice—your justice.

But Oberyn’s eyes flickered to the Lannisters. Lord Tywin, sitting stone-faced on his perch, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrest of his chair. Cersei, beside him, her face a twisted mask of rage and disbelief. Their plans had crumbled before their eyes, and there was nothing they could do.

“The gods have made their will known,” Tywin said at last, his voice cold and measured. “Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby granted mercy.”

The words dripped with bitterness, but Tywin could do nothing to change the outcome. His gaze shifted to you, and the venom in his eyes was palpable. He stared at you as if he could will you dead on the spot, but you, bloodied and exhausted, raised your chin defiantly. Your shoulders straightened, and despite the pain, you walked with purpose, never looking back at the crowd.

Oberyn could see the weight of the battle on you, the way your steps faltered slightly as you moved toward the edge of the arena. But before you could collapse, before your body gave in, you found him.

“Oberyn,” you breathed out, a ghost of a smile on your lips, just as your vision blurred, the world spinning out of focus. You reached for him, and he ran toward you, catching you before you fell.

“My beloved,” he whispered, cradling your head in his arms, panic flooding his veins. He pressed his forehead against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “Stay with me. You’ve won. You’ve won.”

But your vision darkened, his face fading into shadows as you whispered, barely audible, “I’m sorry. For all of it. I’m sorry.”

Then everything went black.

Oberyn held you tighter, his heart racing as he carried you away from the pit, the cheers of the crowd fading into a distant roar. Ellaria trailed behind him, her face streaked with silent tears. And as the sun began to set over King’s Landing, Oberyn prayed once more, but this time, it was not for vengeance.

It was for you.

A FEW DAYS LATER...  

KING'S LANDING, RED KEEP — DAY

You inhale slowly, your eyelids fluttering open as a heavy fog of disorientation lingers. The cushion beneath you feels impossibly soft, too luxurious to be real, and the silk sheets that drape over your body are unfamiliar against your skin. For a moment, you wonder if you're still dreaming. Blinking against the blurriness, you take in the room—this isn't your quarters. It’s far too grand, too opulent. The deep burgundy tapestries hang from the walls, trimmed with gold, casting the space in a warm, regal glow. 

Your confusion deepens as your gaze drifts around the room, eventually landing on the man seated beside you, his presence both grounding and comforting. Oberyn. His dark eyes are focused entirely on you, a mixture of concern and anger etched into the lines of his face. He’s holding your hand tightly, as if letting go might mean losing you.

When he notices your eyes fluttering open, his grip tightens, his thumb brushing over your knuckles with a kind of desperation that makes your heart clench.

“You scared me,” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse, strained by emotions he usually keeps in check. The frustration bleeds into his words, but there’s an overwhelming sense of relief as well. His brow is furrowed, and for a second, it seems like he doesn’t know whether to scold you or hold you closer.

He leans in without hesitation, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that is both gentle and fierce. His hand cups your cheek as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn't hold on. There’s a warmth in the kiss, but you can feel the anger there, too—the worry that he almost lost you, the unspoken terror that gripped him during your absence.

As you pull back from the kiss, your head still spinning, you can’t help but think of Ellaria. The question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. “Wait… Ellaria…”

Oberyn sighs, his thumb still grazing the back of your hand as if to soothe away your concerns. “No…” he begins softly, his voice gentler now, though the tension in his posture remains. “We—both of us—have things to discuss.”

You shift beneath the covers, the comfort of the sheets doing little to ease the guilt that's settled in your chest. "I didn’t mean to cause problems,” you whisper, your voice small, barely above a murmur. 

His eyes soften as he watches you, his grip tightening for a moment before loosening again. “It wasn’t you,” he reassures you, his tone filled with a sincerity that makes your heart ache. “None of this was your fault.”

But still, the weight of it all lingers. You can’t shake the feeling that you've upset the delicate balance between them, between you, and the heavy silence presses down on you. "It kind of feels like it," you admit, your gaze dropping to the silk sheets beneath your fingers as if avoiding his eyes will make it easier.

Oberyn studies you for a moment, his intense gaze never wavering. When he speaks, his voice is soft, coaxing, but there’s a thread of steel underneath, as though he won’t let you hide from this. “What is it? Tell me.”

You hesitate, the words thick and difficult to force out. It feels vulnerable, admitting this to him. But you’ve never been one to shy away from the truth, and Oberyn deserves that, at least. You take a shaky breath. “I don’t like to share,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper as you look up at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes.

For a moment, there's silence. Then, a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips—not mocking, but understanding. “Ah,” he says softly, a faint chuckle escaping him, though it holds no malice. His fingers lace through yours more tightly, and he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You don't need to worry about that right now.”

His tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s something deeper in the way he looks at you. Something reassuring. “We’ll figure it out,” he adds, his voice calm, steady, as if this problem is not insurmountable, as if you and he could face anything together.

You can’t help the way your heart warms at his words, at the way he so effortlessly defuses your fears with that simple, quiet confidence of his. You offer him a tentative smile, still feeling a little raw, a little unsure, but his presence, as always, is enough to make the world seem just a little bit easier to face.

For now, in this moment, the tension fades. It’s just the two of you, hands intertwined, the weight of your worries shared between you. And somehow, that’s enough.

Everything seemed to be falling back into place, except for one thing—you couldn’t stay. You had already resigned from your position as a servant to the Lannisters, knowing it was only a matter of time before they dismissed you.

That morning, after bidding farewell to your duties, you left a good sum of gold for Serena, thanking her for all she had done. It wasn’t nearly enough to repay her, but it was all you had. She had been your silent ally, and you owed her your life.

You had recovered well enough, and when the time came, you scribbled a note and left it on Oberyn’s desk. Just a few words, playful but loaded with meaning:  

“Do you want to come see the ocean with me?”

The sun was sinking into the horizon, casting the sky in soft shades of gold and lavender as you and Oberyn strolled along the coast. The sea breeze brushed against your skin, cool and salty, but comforting. It tousled your hair, lifting the loose strands in gentle waves. Beside you, Oberyn’s hand was warm, his fingers entwined with yours as he led you along the shore. His voice, rich and smooth like velvet, floated through the air, serenading you with a Dornish love song. His words, though foreign, melted into the air, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

You looked up at him, his face glowing in the fading light, his eyes reflecting the endless ocean beside you. In his presence, the world seemed smaller, quieter. The chaotic din of King's Landing, the bloodshed, and the weight of everything that had come before—it all faded into the background. Here, it was just the two of you, walking along the edge of the world.

Oberyn’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “You look peaceful,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against your skin. 

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his affection settle deep in your chest. "I feel peaceful. For once," you whispered, your eyes meeting his, drinking in the tenderness you saw there. 

As the two of you made your way to a small dock, you found an old crate to sit on, the wood weathered and worn by years of salt and sea. You sat side by side, legs dangling off the edge, sharing a bottle of Dornish red wine. The world around you felt infinite—expansive ocean stretching out before you, stars beginning to shimmer in the twilight sky, the rhythmic lull of the waves breaking against the shore.

The wine was sweet, its taste lingering on your lips as you passed the bottle between you, laughing between sips, sharing stolen kisses in between stories. Oberyn’s hand slid along your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. He was so close, and yet, for the first time, you felt the distance growing. 

There was a part of you that ached, knowing how this perfect moment would end.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “Oberyn,” you murmured, your voice quiet, barely louder than the waves.

“Hmm?” He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss into your hair.

You closed your eyes, inhaling his scent—the mix of sun and leather, and something uniquely him. For a moment, you just listened to the sound of his heartbeat, steady and sure. You wanted to bottle this moment, to keep it forever, but you knew that was impossible.

“I love this,” you whispered. “I love… you.”

Oberyn smiled against your hair, his lips brushing your skin. “And I you.”

You stayed like that for a long time, the two of you wrapped in the silence, the kind that didn’t need words. The sky above grew darker, stars spilling across the night like scattered diamonds. Everything felt right in that instant, perfect even. But you knew better than to believe in perfect endings.

When Oberyn stood to fetch more wine, you watched him walk away, your heart already breaking with every step he took. He looked back, flashing you a teasing grin, unaware of the storm brewing inside you. You held on to that image of him—happy, carefree, the man who had brought light into your world.

You waited until he disappeared into the distance before you moved. You pulled the small seashell from your pocket, the one you'd found on the shore earlier. You placed it carefully beside the note you had written earlier, your hand trembling as you set it on the crate where you had shared so many stolen moments with Oberyn.

Your breath caught in your throat as you re-read the words you had scrawled:

“We’re at the final destination. This is the end. Goodbye.”

The weight of it all settled over you as you stood there for a moment, staring out at the endless sea. Your heart ached in a way you couldn’t describe, torn between love and the inevitability of your decision. You closed your eyes, letting the wind caress your face one last time before you turned and walked away, leaving only the note and seashell behind.

By the time Oberyn returned, laughing with another bottle of wine in hand, you were already gone.

He looked around, the smile slipping from his face as he called your name. Panic crept into his voice as he scanned the dock, eyes landing on the seashell and the note. His hand trembled as he picked it up, his heart hammering in his chest as he read the words.

The bottle of wine slipped from his grasp, shattering on the ground, just like his heart.

ATOP THE CLIFFS — EVENING

The wind howled as you stood at the edge of the cliffs, looking down at the jagged rocks and the sea below. You had built a small fire, watching as the flames consumed the journal you had written in for years—pages full of unsent letters, regrets, and broken dreams. The smoke curled into the twilight sky, taking with it the pieces of you no one had ever seen.

Tears streamed down your face as you whispered into the wind, "I hope that in the end, whether I’m in the world or not, your world will be full of me. I want you to resent every moment of your life so much that you feel it deep in your bones. Let me do that. I’ll be the one who kills me."

The ocean roared beneath you, the cliffs standing as silent witnesses to your final moment. You stepped closer to the edge, the weight of the world lifting as you prepared to let go.

But then—  

“Help! Please help! Save him!”

You turned slowly, tears still blurring your vision. Standing at a distance was Ellaria Sand, her face stricken with panic. Her voice trembled as she called out, “If this is the end you were preparing for, then you should already know. What if… Oberyn chooses this end too?”

You stood frozen, silent, tears streaming down your face as Ellaria took a cautious step toward you. Her voice was thick with emotion as she continued, “I met with Serena. She told me about you. She told me everything—about where you came from, how you ended up here.”

Ellaria’s voice cracked as she pleaded with you. “This isn’t the way things should end. When Oberyn told me he wanted to help you get revenge, I gave him my permission. So please… give me your permission to save your life today.”

You could barely breathe, your chest tight with grief and confusion. 

Ellaria’s eyes were wet with tears as she took another step forward. “Whether I have to hang on to you or jump with you, I will save you. I need you to help him—help Oberyn escape his hell so that he can choose to live.”

You stared at her, your tears flowing freely now, and your gaze drifted back to the ocean, where the sun had almost dipped below the horizon. Stars began to streak across the sky, as if the gods themselves were watching, waiting for your decision.

End Notes:

Okay OKAY LISTEN LISTEN, I know it doesn’t make sense that Ellaria shows up there. It’s all fantasy. But if we assume that there were tiny bits of divine intervention here and there, she could appear on those cliffs because she wanted to save you.

TAGLIST:

@greenwitchfromthewoods @shessweetsour @christinamadsen

[arcane-vagabond]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Three

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Flirty Bradley, Talk of near death experience, Dagger Squad acting sketchy, talk of hookups, Bruises, Scratches, FBI, Police, Murder.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I'm starting to wonder if y'all actually read these lol Anyway, here is Chapter Three! If you're feeling kind/generous, please consider buying me a ko-fi! Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist

Your head was pounding and the sheets stuck to your skin in a way that made you want to scream. You slowly cracked an eye open, wincing at the bright light that filtered in through the window. It was still overcast outside, and you could see the tiny droplets of water that ran down the window pane. You blinked as you took in the sight of your room, trying to remember how you ended up there.

You shuddered as you remembered the crashing of waves all around you, struggling to find the surface for a desperate breath of air. Sitting up with a groan, you rested your head in your hand, trying to remember anything after that. You remembered hearing the song again, a high-pitched frantic melody and arms that had grasped you. Scoffing, you shook your head to rid yourself of the ridiculous notion that that had been anything other than a dream. At that moment, the door to your room creaked open softly to reveal Bob poking his head around the side. He let out a heavy sigh, opening the door fully and stepping through at the sight of you sitting up.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, walking over quickly to sit beside you on the edge of the bed. You gave him a half-hearted smile, still trying to ignore the throbbing in your temples.

“I am,” you grimaced.

“How much do you remember?”

“There was a storm,” you started, running your hand through your hair. “It got bad, and the waves kept coming and coming, and then…”

You paused, looking up at your friend who smiled at you gently.

“And then I fell overboard. I thought-I thought I was drowning,” you choked, feeling the tears well up in your eyes at the memory of how scared you had been. Bob reached out to place a comforting hand on top of yours and you smiled gratefully at him. “But I had another dream.”

“What?” Bob’s brow furrows in confusion. You chuckled softly to yourself.

“It was so real,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I mean, I’m sure it was just a hallucination, but…”

“What happened?” Bob pressed, leaning forward with a clench of his jaw. The way his face hardened made you uneasy, wondering what happened to your usually easygoing best friend.

“Well,” you started, clasping your hand around Rusty. “I was sure I was dead, but then I heard that song again. And then I felt arms wrap around me. Then I was on the shore, and I-”

You stopped, your cheeks heating up as your brain caught up to what you were saying. Your remembered the soft lips that pressed hot and heavy against your skin. The way the arms caressed and held you. The way you had responded to his touch, his bite.

Your cheeks grew hotter, and you saw Bob cock his head to the side from your peripheral.

“You what?” He asked. You cleared your throat.

“I remember there was a man.”

“A man?” Bob furrowed his brows, frown growing deeper. “What do you mean?”

You bit your bottom lip. “I think he saved me.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Sorry,” you muttered, looking up to meet his blue eyes. “I know that sounds ridiculous. I’m sure it’s just my brain trying to comprehend how I got back to shore in that storm.”

Bob stared at you for a moment, seeming to choose his next words carefully.

“You probably just got a boost of adrenaline,” he said, smiling at you softly. “Probably swam yourself back to shore. We found you on the rocks there, you know. Bradley carried you back.”

“He did?” You asked, feeling the heat creep its way back onto your cheeks. Bob nodded.

“Yeah, everyone was so worried about you.”

“They were?” You frowned. The door swung open to reveal the group of friends standing in your doorway.

“Hell yeah, we were!” Bradley exclaimed, smiling at you widely, but there was a tinge of concern to his expression. “Thought you weren’t going to wake up there, Skipper.”

“I’m so sorry, you guys,” you murmured, turning to face them. They all glanced at each other and then back at you in confusion.

“What for?” Asked Javy. You felt tears well up in your eyes, and you let out a sniffle as you tried to wipe them away. The group quickly circled around you, doing their best to comfort you which only served to make you more upset.

“I just seem to keep causing all of this trouble,” you hiccuped. Nat pulled you in for a hug, stroking your hair as Bob squeezed your hand. “You guys must be sick of me by now.”

“Sick of you?” Bradley chuckled leaning against you on your left, causing Nat to grunt as your weight pressed into her more. “How could we be sick of our little Skipper, huh?”

“Besides,” Javy spoke up, smiling at you gently. “Accidents happen, right? It’s not like you went out looking for trouble.”

“I know,” you sniffled, “But-”

“No buts!” Natasha declared, pulling back to look at you. “You must be sick of our little town by now after all the excitement.”

You gave her a watery smile. “Never.”

“That’s our girl!” Bradley beamed, tweaking your cheek. He looked down at where you held the stuffed stingray and cocked a brow. “Who’s this little guy?”

You were sure your cheeks were going to be be permanently red by the end of the summer at the rate you were blushing. You clutched Rusty a little tighter, shyly peaking up at the mustached man through your lashes.

“This is Rusty.”

He hummed. “Well, Rusty better watch out because I don’t like having competition.”

You let out a giggle as the other boys rolled their eyes. Nat scoffed as she moved to stand.

“Alright boys,” she said, fixing them all with a look. “Let’s let Skipper get changed in peace, yeah?”

“I dunno,” Bradley smirked, leaning in closer to you. “She looks like she might need some help.”

“Out,” Natasha snapped with a roll of her eyes. Bradley shot you a wink before filing out after the boys, raising his hands in surrender as he walked by the brunette. Once they had all left, Nat looked at you with a soft expression.

“You don’t need help, right?” She asked, chewing on her bottom lip. You shook your head.

“I’ll be fine,” you smiled. “I promise I’ll holler if I need something.”

She seemed to accept this and walked out, closing the door behind her. You sighed, looking out the window. The throbbing in your head had had moved down to the base of your neck, and the uncomfortable pulse had you scratching at the skin. You furrowed your brows when you felt the way the skin was raised there when it wasn’t yesterday. You stood from the bed, swaying slightly. When you were sure that you weren’t going to collapse, you grabbed a change of clothes and made your way down the hall. You heard the others down in the living room chatting.

“What was he thinking?” You heard Nat say.

“He obviously wasn’t,” Bradley scoffed. “This will be his third go around and he still won’t give Mandy-”

The floorboard underneath you creaked, and you silently cursed when you heard the conversation die. You hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind you. You let out a heavy sigh before turning to look in the mirror.

You looked an awful sight. Your hair was in disarray and there were bruises littered across your skin. You grimaced, grabbing a brush to try and tame your wild locks. When you had fixed the state of your hair enough, you pulled your hoodie off over your head, seeing the dozens of other bruises that scattered your arm. You let out a huff as you ran your fingers down your skin, but you stopped when you caught sight of your neck for the first time. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned into the mirror, carefully inspecting the skin that had been throbbing and raised. Your skin was almost iridescent as it reflected the lights of the bathroom. You moved, watching as the circular patch of raised skin shifted from a teal blue to a mossy green. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that it almost looked like a bite mark. You quickly changed into the clothes you brought with you, depositing the old ones in your room before making your way downstairs.

“There you are!” Bob smiled from where he was perched on the arm of the couch next to Mickey. “Was wondering what was taking you so long.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, brow still furrowed in confusion. Bob took in your expression, and his own changed to one of concern.

“Everything alright?” He asked you, causing everyone to focus on where you stood in the doorway. You nodded slowly, hand still covering the mark on your neck.

“Yeah, I think so?” You murmured, eyes shifting uncertainly to his. “Would you take a look at this?”

Bob nodded, already moving towards you as you dropped your hand. Bob stopped moving as everyone else in the room took in a breath at the same time.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” You chuckled nervously, uneasy as everyone watched you intently. “I’ve never seen anything like it. What do you think it is?”

Your eyes roamed the room and you saw all eyes trained on your neck. Bradley had his jaw clenched and his nostrils were flaring with anger, Reuben and Javy had grim looks on their faces, Mickey and Bob looked concerned, and Nat looked like she was ready to strangle someone.

“Yeah,” Bob said finally, giving a poor attempt at a smile.

“It must just be some algae or something,” Reuben offered, glancing nervously at his friends.

“Probably nothing to worry about,” Javy nodded, giving you a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“You think so?” You asked them, shifting uneasily at the sudden tension in the room. Mickey nodded, standing up from where he sat.

“Of course!” He chirped, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the front door. “Now come on! Let’s go get something to eat, yeah?”

Two days later you were perched on Richard’s boat as he and Bob finished packing up their fishing gear.

“I hope we didn’t bore you too much!” Richard called from where he was taking a part his fishing rod. You turned, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the glaring sun as it began to set.

“Not at all!” You laughed. “It was nice to just get out here and relax, even if I was the only one in the water.”

Bob had worried after you most of the day when you told him you would be joining him and his father for their weekly fishing excursion.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go back in?” He had asked, eyes studying you for any sign of hesitation. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Yes, Bobby,” you teased, earning a less than amused look. “If I don’t go back as soon as possible, then I might never go back. I can’t let the fear win, right?”

And Bob had begrudgingly agreed, keeping a closer eye on you than his fishing pole much to his father’s chagrin. You had been fine, if not a little apprehensive at first. But the sea had welcomed you back, and you had embraced it happily. You swam until your fingers began to prune, and then you had settled on the deck of the boat, napping as you basked in the summer sun.

Now, the sun was sinking fast towards the horizon, and you stood up to stretch, feeling a pleasant buzz from the rays you had soaked up.

“Is there anything I can help with?” You offered, walking over to where Richard and Bob were still cleaning up from the day.

“Nah, we’ve got it,” Bob smiled up at you. “Just go have a seat and we’ll head back to shore here in a second, yeah?”

You hummed, slinking over to the cushions on the opposite end of the deck. You plopped down, resting your head back as you basked in the rocking of the waves. You could have used another nap.

“Do you kids have anything planned for tonight?” Richard asked, standing to head for the helm.

“I think we’re going to go have dinner with the gang,” Bob said, locking his tackle box and looking up at you. “Does that sound okay to you?”

“That sounds perfect,” you smiled, lolling your head to the side as as a warm breeze washed over you. Movement caught your eye, and you turned to where the door at the back of the boat was still opened, leading onto a ledge that you used to get in and out of the boat from the water. On the ledge sat several different shells. You stood, walking over to get a better look. You felt excitement swell as you took in the different whelk and calico shells. Scattered amongst the shells were different colored pearls, all shining in the dimming light.

“Bob, come look at this!” You called out excitedly. You heard his footsteps as he approached, crouching down next to you. You held one of the whelk shells out to him, practically vibrating in excitement. He took it from you, brow furrowing as he examined it.

“Aren’t these amazing?” You exclaimed, reaching down to grab some of the pearls. “These are some of the best specimens I’ve ever seen! And look at all of these pearls!”

Bob’s eyes shifted to your outstretched hand where you held five pearls of varying shapes, sizes, and colors sat.

“These are beautiful, aren’t they?” You continued, but then your excitement dimmed, turning into confusion as you looked back out at the water. “But, how did they get here?”

Bob stiffened next to you before standing, casting a look over his shoulder at his father. He turned back to you with a nervous smile.

“Must have been the current that brought them up,” he said. You frowned up at him.

“The current? But that doesn’t-”

“Hey, Dad!” Bob called, the older man popping up from where he was sitting at the steering wheel to the boat. “Are we ready to go yet? I’m starving!”

“Just waiting on you two!”

“Bob,” you started, but he gave you another smile.

“You’re hungry too, right? Why don’t you grab those and I’ll shoot a text to the groupchat and let them know we’re heading that way soon, yeah?”

Before you could respond, he turned around, walking off and leaving you still crouched by the ledge. You heaved a sigh, rolling your eyes as you began to collect the little treasures at your feet. Once you finished, you made sure the tiny door was latched closed before settling back into the cushions. You looked back out at the sea, swearing you heard the song from your dreams off in the distance.

“I’m telling you, they’re gonna hook up by the end of the summer,” Mickey laughed, popping another french fry into his mouth. Reuben scoffed, throwing his head back as the rest of the group smiled.

“I think my cousin has better taste than Garrett Fletch, Mickey,” the dark-skinned man fired back. Mickey raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

“I don’t know, didn’t she hook up with Bradley last summer?”

“Hey!” Bradley exclaimed, earning a round of laughter from everyone as Reuben turned to fix him with a narrowed stare.

“You and Christina hooked up last summer?” He huffed. The tips of Bradley’s ears turned bright red as he gave his friend a sheepish smile.

“It’s not like anything really happened,” Bradley defended himself. “She dumped me almost immediately after.”

Reuben seemed to mull over his words before nodding firmly. “At least she has some sense.”

Bradley’s jaw dropped at the dig, and you fought against the soda in your mouth to prevent it from shooting out your nose. Bradley turned to you with a smirk.

“Oh you think that’s funny?” He teased, grinning at you. You nodded.

“Extremely,” you giggled. Bradley bit his bottom lip as he watched you and Reuben shook his head.

“Skipper, please have more sense than my cousin,” he sighed, looking at you. “Do not mess around with this fool.”

“She could do worse!” Bradley interjected, casting his friend a sideways glance.

“Speaking of worse,” Bob said with a scowl. “Where’s Jake?”

Bradley’s nostrils flared at the name, and Nat rolled her eyes.

“Same as usual,” she grumbled.

“Mandy is really laying it on thick this year, huh?” Reuben chortled, sipping his milkshake. A warm breeze floated in from the beach, providing a pleasant reprieve from the jam packed diner.

Mickey grimaced. “I mean, this is his third-”

Javy cleared his throat, cutting the other man off. He glanced your way, and Mickey smiled sheepishly.

“His third what?” You asked, looking around the table. Everyone refused to meet your gaze.

“His third year of dancing around the subject,” Nat offered quickly. Your brows furrowed.

“What subject?”

“Mandy and Jake have been practically engaged since they were babies,” Bradley said with an eye roll. “Mandy is all for it, but everyone around here knows that Jake’s never been thrilled with the idea.”

“He made it pretty clear years ago that he wasn’t going go with the plan if he could avoid it,” Javy chimed in with a sigh.

“Is it really that big a deal?” You asked them. Javy grimaced.

“It’s a good match,” he said simply. “They’re both from founding families, and they make the picture perfect couple.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you commented, earning a snort from Nat.

“Except Mandy is a nightmare human being,” she scoffed. “She’s rude, stuck up, selfish, and a textbook narcissist. Jake would be miserable.”

“So why doesn’t he just tell her no outright?”

“Because until recently,” Bradley huffed, eyes shifting to stare at the raised patch of skin on your neck with distaste, “he didn’t feel like he had any other options.”

Before you could ask any more questions, a terrified scream sounded from outside. All of you looked at each other before scrambling up out of your seats to head outside with the rest of the crowd. It was hard to see in the dark as you stumbled down the beach, but what you saw before you sent ice down your spine.

A woman was crying hysterically into her partner’s chest, the wind whipping her dress about her. Your eyes glanced down, seeing the twisted body of a young woman. Her skin was pale with a bluish tinge to it that made you nauseous. Her eyes were widened in terror, glazed over with a milky whiteness that made your food resurface. You barely had time to remove yourself from the crowd before you were on your knees, emptying the contents of your stomach into the sand.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you heard Nat shush you, stroking a hand up and down your back as you continued to vomit. She pulled your hair out of your face. “Let it out.”

“How are you so calm about this?” You asked her, watery gaze glancing up at her. Before she could answer, you saw several figures race down to where the crowd was gathered. A man with dark hair and a sheriff’s badge trotted down. He nodded at your group as he passed.

“Bradley.”

“Mav,” Bradley nodded back at him, lips pressed in a thin line. Behind “Mav,” two more figures came into view, flashlights scanning over the sand. One was older, about the same age as Mav, grey hair and weather-worn face. The other was tall, dark hair turning grey at the edges, and he had an air of seriousness about him. You saw Bob look around with wide, shock filled eyes at his friends.

“What is the FBI doing here?”

[cherrychilli]

Do over

Part 3 of Caught

Steve Harrington x Hopper! Reader smut, AFAB reader

Summary: Hopper finds out that you’ve been dating Steve Harrington in secret and you’re both left to deal with the aftermath of your father's unfortunate discovery.

A/N: This little series was so much fun to write. Thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented and asked to be tagged. Hope you all enjoy the conclusion!

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, breeding kink, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, pussy spanking, slight daddy kink

Wordcount: 4.8k

Not proofread

“Hopper’s daughter? Are you insane? Like, actually, clinically insane?”

The full body shock is immediate as Robin begins to pace rapidly back and forth, running her hands through her frazzled hair disbelievingly while her eyes double in size and her mouth hangs agape.

It was big news. Steve knew that and if it wasn’t such an urgent problem he would have allowed her more time to wrap her mind around his bombshell of an admission.

“Yeah yeah- enough of that- what do you think I should do? I mean, I can’t just go over there without a plan. I need to map something out. And quick! before he thinks I’m trying to hide”

But it’s no use, his impatient plea falls on deaf ears because she’s still reeling.

“A dead man- I’m talking to a dead man right now”, she rambles to herself before turning on her heal to begin pacing in the opposite direction.

Steve sighs defeatedly, realizing that he can’t rush her into a more coherent state.

This time with more patience, he attempts in a softer tone like one might with a particularly anxious toddler, “alright, why don’t you just take these in the back- get this all out of your system and then come back and help me, please”. He places a stack of newly returned tapes in her arms and directs her towards the back room with a hand pressed gently against her back. Somehow, she manages to find her way despite her unfocused gaze and her repetitive utterances of “I can’t believe this – I just believe this” while shaking her head from side to side.

Getting caught with you, especially in the way that it had happened, by your father, the Chief of Police was...not ideal. But Steve was determined. He cared for you and he needed to make it clear to Hopper that you weren’t some girl he was using for sex.

Steve returns to the counter and fishes out his wallet, in desperate need of a pick me up.  Flipping it open, a smile tugs at his lips as he looks down at a picture of the two of you together. Your ‘first date’. The picture was taken at the photo booth two months ago when you’d ran into each other at the county fair. You both knew the other was going to be there with your respective groups of friends – there’d been so much tension between the two of you during the weeks leading up to the fair. Very ‘will they won’t they’ as cliché as it sounded. You’d had your first kiss together that night too. Steve remembers how demure you seemed in your pretty dress as the two of you walked by the tree line, away from your friends and away from the rest of the crowd. Everyone was too preoccupied to notice the way you both looked at each other or the fact that you’d wandered off to be alone. He’d wanted to kiss you so badly but held off thinking it might be too soon.

Everyone had this idea in their heads about you. They all treated you like you were made of glass and the last thing Steve had wanted that night was to scare you off by being too forward.  But there was another side to you and that was the night he caught his first glimpse. He was in the middle of relaying a story – something funny Dustin had done – and it wasn’t that you were disinterested in hearing it. You liked hearing how fondly he spoke of the younger boy. You found it incredibly sweet how their unlikely friendship came to be but there was a pressing matter on your mind and you couldn’t resist any longer. Your hands reached out to grasp at the front of Steve’s shirt as you pulled him down for a sudden kiss. It was unexpected but he melts into it quickly, remembering everything from the sound of the fireworks going off in the distance, to the taste of cotton candy on your lips.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t wait anymore”, you’d said when you finally parted for air.

He realized you weren’t nearly as fragile as people thought you to be.

Quickly checking over his shoulder to make sure Robin hadn’t shuffled back in yet, Steve carefully pulls the picture free from behind the little plastic display to sneak a peek at the one he’d hidden underneath. It was one of the pictures he had taken of you yesterday. He couldn’t resist – he had to have one with him while he kept the others hidden away in his room. Your face wasn’t in it- he’d promised you he’d be careful. It was a shot of your body – stretched out on his bed, still clad in your lacy underwear and peppered with fresh hickeys.

He can feel his cock begin to stir in his pants and he knows better than to get hard at work but he can’t help but let his eyes linger a few moments longer. Who would have known just by looking at you that this was what you’d been getting up to in secret.

Steve’s so busy admiring every curve of your body that he doesn’t take immediate notice when the front door swings open. No one really came in at this hour – kids were supposed to be in school and the adults were usually at work right about now. When he does finally look up it feels like he’s just stepped off the edge of a cliff, wallet slipping from his fingers and landing on the opposite side of the counter.

Jesus, Fuck

Hopper’s mirthless, raging face looms over him, his stare alone somehow willing Steve into fearful submission.

The fear intensifies when Steve’s eyes dart down momentarily to realize that his wallet’s landed right beside Hopper’s boots – thankfully, picture side down.

Steve’s mouth’s completely dry and all he can hear is the sound of his own blood coursing in his ears. Jim Hopper was a big man, by anyone’s standards. Big enough to make even the most arrogant drunk think twice about picking a fight with him. Right now, he seemed impossibly big. Almost mountainous, even.

The look on Hopper’s face told Steve everything he needed to know and now all the boy could do was wait. With no one around to see, there was no way the Chief wouldn’t swing. Right?

He clearly wanted to. What father wouldn’t?

God, this is going to fucking hurt…

“This is major. Huge! There’s no way he won’t kill you, I mean really- “

Like a godsend, Robin strides back towards the counter, only cutting herself off when she sees who’s walked into the store.

Steve takes his first breath since Hopper showed up, relief washing over him. A witness!

He eyes Robin from where he’s frozen in place, a mix of helplessness and desperation evident on his face.

She knew she needed to do something to help her friend from getting his face caved in. Despite being the one who hadn’t messed around with Hopper’s daughter, she struggles to maintain a calm cadence, croaking out a very nervous, “Hey Chief, here to check out the new releases?” to distract him.

Steve’s nothing but thankful for her awkward but sincere effort to break the dangerous tension mounting in the store but Hopper ignores her altogether to turn back to him.

“Whatever you think I might do to you if I ever see you near my daughter again is nothing compared to what I’ll actually do to you, understand?”

Steve nods quickly. Even if he wasn’t afraid for his life he knew there was no convincing Hopper of anything right now. There was no room to carefully explain or reason. There was barely any room to breathe. He’d have to plead his case later.

With one last ire fueled stare at Steve he turns to leave, eyes briefly skimming over Steve’s wallet on the floor before stomping out of the store.

Robin cautiously inches over to Steve, eyes trained on the door, wondering if Hopper might just change his mind and come back.

“Are you okay?”, she finally asks.

“Ask me again in an hour”, he replies weakly, blood yet to return to his pale face.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

You knew this was hard for your father. He had trusted you and you had lied. You should have been honest from the start. Sure, he wouldn’t have been crazy about the idea of his daughter dating Steve Harrington but if you hadn’t tried to hide your relationship and instead, had explained how happy Steve made you, things might have turned out differently.

“He won’t be bothering you again”, was what Hopper said to you when he came back home that morning. You hadn’t even realized he’d been gone. You’d accidentally slept in late, exhausted from having cleaned up your father’s mess last night and your many futile and tearful attempts at trying to convince him that Steve wasn’t the kind of boy he thought he was.

Hopper seemed pleased with himself, having scared the shit out of your boyfriend with not more than a look and a single warning. Instantly, you knew what he’d done and now it was your turn to start yelling. It goes on for hours – you, trying to make it clear that he had no right trying to decide who you can and can’t date and him, trying to shoutexplain that he’d done it for your own good because according to him, all Steve wanted to do was take advantage of you.

“If he’s such a good guy, why didn’t he try to explain himself this morning?!”, Hopper boomed

“You probably didn’t give him the chance! All you do is intimidate!” you shot back defiantly

“He was corrupting you- I needed to keep that pervert away!” he retaliated.

Frustrated and well beyond your limit, you angrily tread to your bedroom and slam the door behind you, locking yourself inside before burying yourself underneath your blankets. It infuriated you. You’re an adult now but this was Jim Hopper. As long as you’re under his roof, he still calls the shots.

You avoid Hopper the next day. Only coming out of your bedroom when you hear the cruiser pull way as he leaves for work. You use that time to fix yourself something to eat and wonder around the cabin, wracking your brain for solutions before going right back inside when you hear him return in the evening.

Hopper can’t find it in himself to apologize because he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. The way he sees it, some handsy boy treated you with less respect than you deserved and there was no way he was about to let that continue. But at the same time, he couldn’t stand to have you mad at him.

You’re the only person he’d ever even attempt to make peace with after a bitter fight. He’s just about to knock on your door when the phone begins to ring. With an irritated huff he walks away from your door to answer it. He sighs again, rubbing at his temple as he listens to the caller on the line. “Alright, I’ll be right there”, he grunts back and hangs up the receiver. Grabbing his keys, he’s about to head to the cruiser but he decides to try reaching out to you one more time before he leaves.

He knocks gently against your door. No response. It hurts because he knows that you’re up and not actually asleep – he’d seen your shadow from under the door not very long before the phone had started to ring. Carefully softening his tone, he starts, “Honey…I have to head out again- there’s some sort of commotion down Marley Street- house party that got out of hand – some little sh- someone set a couch on fire and it spread- it’s a mess and I have to get down there”. No response still. “I might be out a while so keep the doors locked…I’ll be back as soon as I can”. Hopper turns to leave but the sound of your room door being unlocked has him whipping back around. You crack open your door just a couple of inches and his face drops when he sees your eyes all red and your cheeks puffy from crying all day. He may not be the calmest person around or the easiest person to reason with but you knew he had done what he did because he cared about you. You didn’t like being mad at him either knowing that it hurt him too. “Be careful, dad”, you reply softly. He smiles back tenderly. “Thanks, hun”. You both part a little somberly but hopeful that the next time you talk, you’re more likely to reach an understanding than another screaming match. You both just needed some time to cool off first.

You decide to clean yourself up with a nice hot shower when you hear the cruiser take off. Returning from the bathroom you remember that you hadn’t been able to call Steve the day before – too busy and exhausted from all the yelling. You dial and wait. When he doesn’t answer fresh tears start to emerge. You try to tell yourself that maybe he’s out with Robin right now but part of you worries that Hopper had managed to get to him with his threats and that he was avoiding your call on purpose. You put the phone back down, sick of listening to it ring.

You retreat under your blankets again, ready to softly cry yourself to sleep and let the cycle repeat itself.  You’re about 3 minutes into it when a sudden series of taps against your window make you still your breath. You’re alone. It’s dark. And now you’re very, very scared.

You’re just about ready to scream bloody murder when you recognize the face peering through your bedroom window.

“Steve!”

You throw the blankets off yourself and practically sprint to your window, smiling so hard it almost hurts.

“He’s gone, right?”, he whispers cautiously when you unlatch the window and open it for him.

“He left about 30 minutes ago- something about a fire down Marley Street”, you beam despite the context of the news you’re relaying.

“I saw – I drove past it on my way home from work- probably Jake Ramsey’s fault. That guy’s always passing out flaming shots.” He crawls through your window and straightens out before continuing. “No one got hurt but the whole place is a mess. Drunk kids all out on the lawn, fire department was called. Pretty big – I knew they’d call your dad in and that meant you’d be alone so…”

You throw your arms around him and squeeze, “I tried calling and when you didn’t answer…I’m so glad you’re here”, you mumble into his chest.

“I never went home, babe. I just drove straight here”, he replied, hugging you back with a reassuring squeeze.

You crane your neck back to look up at him, “My dad didn’t scare you off?”

Steve suppresses a nervous laugh at that. Hopper did scare him. Almost effortlessly so but he decides to leave that part out when cups your face with his palm, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. “Not enough to keep me away from you”, he replies honestly.

He leans down to meet your waiting lips, kissing you softly. It’s a tender, sweet moment but it slowly changes into something more needy when you purposely press your chest up against his and one of his hands trail down to glide along the curve of your ass over your sleep shorts, squeezing your flesh before breaking the kiss to suck at your neck.

“You never got to tell me over the phone- how exactly did he find out?” he makes out against your skin.

“Left a stupid notebook behind in the car- he drove back to the center to give it to me- Loretta told him I didn’t work there”, you reply, eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh?”

“But he didn’t realize yet that it was me he’d caught you with that night- he thought you’d been going around with some other girl- stringing me along during the day- probably didn’t think I’d ever put out for anyone”

Steve scoffs. “Course he didn’t. The Chief of Police’s daughter? Little innocent thing like you? You’d have to be a fucking loon to try and get under her panties”, he pulls at your waistband playfully and lets it snap against your skin.

You giggle before replying. “Remember when we started by using condoms?”, you card your fingers through his hair, occasionally pulling at the soft brown locks when he latches on to a particularly sensitive spot.

“Can’t remember a thing before you let me slip inside without one, babe” he nips at your earlobe.

You blushed remembering the first time you’d done it without one.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

You’d planned it to be a surprise. You didn’t tell Steve that you’d gotten on the pill yet, deciding that you wanted to have a little fun with him first. You tried to contain yourself as you watched him roll on the condom that day before you began to ride him in his bedroom. You staved off your own orgasm until you could tell he was getting close by the way his abdomen clenched and the grip he had on your thighs would tighten. “Stevie, this isn’t working” you’d whined in faux frustration as you ceased bouncing on his cock. You almost felt bad when worry washed over his face and he sprung up from his pillow to look at you face to face. “What’s the matter, angel? need me to be on top?”, voice full of concern.

“it’s not that- I’m just tired of not getting to feel you”, you pouted back.

“Baby, I’m literally inside you right now”, he let out a short disbelieving laugh.

“that’s not what I mean” you pull yourself off of his cock, letting it slip from your hole.

“I need this off- It’s getting in the way”, you point at the condom curled over his dick before you begin pulling it free from his length.

You enjoyed the dumbfounded look on his face a little too much as you tossed the latex aside and held on to his shaft, making a show of rubbing his bare cock along your slick pussy. “Oh, Steve, that feels so good”, you moan out, aiming his tip at your clit and pressing the two very sensitive areas together. 

“Shit- baby, hold on-“

You’re not deterred, you can feel how badly he’s tempted to let you ride him raw but you anticipate his hesitation all the same.

“But Stevie, imagine how good it would feel”,  you whine back. It’s downright cruel the way you’re teasing him right now but you can rest easy knowing that the torture you’re putting him through is going to be well worth it-and he’d agree.

“Sweetheart- fuck- it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s really not that”, he chokes out

“Please, Steve? I wanna feel all of you”

His resolve is crumbling by the second. “Baby, maybe we should wait until you get on the pill? You know,uh be safe?”, he sounds barely convinced by his own reasoning, phrasing everything like a question.

“So, you’ll fuck me without one if I get on the pill?”, you purr back teasingly to clarify.

The truth was he wanted to fuck you without it and you knew it.

“Yeah baby, I’ll give it to you just how you want it”, he strains.

You pretend to look thoughtful for a moment before shrugging your shoulders with contented smile. “Mm, alright”, you hum back innocently.

His breath hitches when instead of releasing his throbbing dick, you raise your hips and line up his cock with your entrance, pushing down until he sinks all the way inside.

You both moaned at the feeling. Your tight warmth envelopes his dick and you can feel every ridge and inch of it pulsing inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck – did you- when??”, he chokes out, barely coherent but you knew exactly what he’s asking.

“Last week”, you moan out, a satisfied smile stretching across your face.

“Surprise”

He didn’t last much longer without it but it didn’t matter. You liked knowing the kind of effect your pussy had on him. And he made it up to you 15 minutes later. Thrice.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

You let the memory fade away when he works a hand between your bodies to rub over your clothed cunt.

“W-well- there was one left over. I left it inside the notebook- completely forgot about it- slipped out right in front of him- that’s when he put it all together”, you force out in a whine.

Steve stills his hand over your mound, pulling away from your neck to look down at you with concern.

“So, he knows I’ve been fucking you raw?”

“No…, I don’t think so- he never found my birth control pills”

Steve’s expression relaxes for a moment before he eyes you up and down suggestively. “Hm. Too bad.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at this. “’Too bad’? Isn’t our situation bad enough?”

He only smirks before returning to mouthing at your neck, slipping both hands underneath your shirt to give your breasts some attention.

“How pissed do you think he’d get if I knocked you up?”, he breathes against your ear.

The questions catches you off guard and you don’t know what to say because you’re too busy trying to process the way his words have begun to make your pussy throb.

“If I put a baby in you- got you all nice and big”, he squeezes your tits with both hands for emphasis,

“- couldn’t hide it then- then he’d know- everyone would know”

You let a moan slip at that, dragging your cunt along his thigh for some relief.

“That what you want, baby? Really stick it to your old man if I got you pregnant right under his own roof”

Your head’s swimming but you still manage to whisper-shout back at him, “Steve! We’re too young”

He chuckles, “I know that- I mean eventually”.

“I can tell you want it too” his eyes flick down to where your shorts have begun to turn damp against his jeans.

You see it too and you’re too far gone now to try and deny it.

“Fuck- please just fuck me before he gets back”, you finally give in.

Your shirt lay discarded in the corner of your room and your nipples throb faintly with the memory of how he’d played with and sucked them moments ago, leaving them all pert and puffy. You’re all spread out on your bed underneath Steve, a shaking whimpering mess and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

“Stevie, please hurry- can’t let him catch us again”

“You know, if you weren’t so busy thinking with this” he brings his open palm down on your clothed clit with just enough pressure to make you yelp, “we wouldn’t be in this mess”.

You relish his faux admonishment. You both know that the two of you share the blame in getting caught but he isn’t wrong. You’d been so needy for him and he liked chiding you for it.

“Needed my cock that bad, angel?” he brings his hand down on your delicate folds again.

“That why you left the condom in your notebook? Smart girl like you- you know better than that”

Smack

“So forgetful…mind all blank now that your pretty little pussy’s being used?”

Smack

“All those years without anyone to touch you and now- “

Smack

“You can’t get enough of it”

“Steeeeve”, you draw out in a desperate whine.

He ignores your plea, “Jesus, how can you sleep in these damn things, they’re so tight. I can see every part of you”.

You’d outgrown this particular pair of shorts a while back. You could still fit into them but he was right, they looked like a second skin on you. He ogles the outline of your cunt through the pale purple cotton and your face warms up when he pinches your pussy lips together. You wiggle your hips and that earns you another slap.

“Take them off- panties too”, he commands.

You do as your told, shimmying both off before he’s forcing you back on your bed with your thighs spread.  

He doesn’t say much this time, instead busying himself by landing several hits directly onto your naked cunt until your clit’s all swollen and your labia’s all pink from the impact. You can hear how wet you’ve become with every smack and he just tuts at the sight between your legs.

“So impatient…”, he lets out in a low groan, inspecting your arousal by rubbing your slippery slick between his thumb, index and middle fingers.

The way your thighs twitch and tremble with every slap isn’t lost on him. He’s confident that he could probably get you to cum from this alone and he’s so tempted to do just that but you’re right. As much as he wants to take the time to put his theory to the test, he doesn’t want to risk another encounter with your father just yet.

He brings his hand between your legs again, this time gently rubbing soothing circles into your abused little bud.

“Want me to make it feel better, baby?”, he coos.

Your chest rises and falls with labored breaths as you nod affirmatively, eyes all watery.

He picks you up and carries you away from the bed, sitting you down on the edge of your desk instead. Your college brochures tumble to the floor and your neat little pile of transcripts tip over and messily fan out behind you.

Your legs fall open as he impatiently sheds his clothing too.

Taking one last moment to tease you, he taps the head of his cock against your aching clit until you choke out a pathetic ‘please’.

He takes pity on you then and you both watch as he finally pushes it in, savouring the stretch.

It’s going to be quick and rough, you both know it but you still gasp when he pulls back far enough to begin driving his cock into you in a hurried pace. You can feel yourself beginning to gush, eyes rolling back as you chant his name again and again. Pens and paperclips rattle and roll off your desk, a mess of stationary littering your bedroom floor.

You’re so cockdrunk your unfocused gaze eventually lands on the framed picture at the corner of your desk. You and your father, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you leaning in close to him as you smile for the picture. Your arm shoots out to turn the picture face down – his face is the last thing you want to see while you’re getting railed and you don’t need another reminder of how pissed he’d be if he knew you were seeing Steve in secret again – in his own house even.

Steve notices your expression and laughs, low and a little dark. “Forget him, baby, I’m your daddy now”.

He picks you up by the waist and you gasp. You’re forced to support yourself with your palms planted flat on your desk behind you and your arms extended. Your legs immediately wrap around Steve’s waist for stability and you’re left to hold on as he grips your ass and begins pounding into you, much harder than before. You squeal at the intensity, desk creaking dangerously beneath you while your tits bounce on your chest.

Your arms ache from having to support your weight but your building orgasm soon captures your complete attention.

“Getting close, angel?”, he grits out with a smirk

“So-so close, daddy”, you pant back out.

Steve groans approvingly when you say it, and he can tell that you like it too because your cunt clenches around him like a vice.

“Daddy, I’m-“ you let your head fall back as the coil in your abdomen snaps and your orgasm ripples through you. Your silky walls clamp sporadically around Steve’s cock and he rests his forehead against your shoulder as he spills into you with a deep grunt, driving into you with short, hard thrusts until he has nothing left to give.

Somehow, you’ve managed to keep your arms outstretched but they start to wobble and he notices, easing you down onto the surface of your desk and pulling out to watch his spend flow back out of your hole. Cum seeps out of you and leaks directly onto your half-completed college application forms but you’re too blissed out to really care. You’ll gladly pick up another set of papers when the feeling starts to return to your trembling legs.

You stare at each other, eyes half lidded, sweaty and panting.

Steve’s the one to break the momentary silence when he reaches out to frame your face with his palm again. 

“I wanna be with you- no more sneaking around. I know he won’t like it at first but let’s be upfront with him. Make him understand”.

Your chest blossoms with adoration and you blush under his affectionate stare.

 “Maybe at dinner? This Friday? I’ll pick a place” you offer, still a little breathless.

 “Yeah” he smiles back at you warmly.

“Some place that gets packed, alright?" he adds.

And then a tinge more seriously so that you understand what he means. “Witnesses, you know?”

[stormhearty]

✨ pairings: Eris x reader

🔮 preview: “(Y/N)…” your name on his dry lips was hoarse, the sound a scratchy noise in your ears and all you could do was whimper, trying to scramble away from the re-dead animation of him. “All I wanted was to be in love… I didn't want to die. What was wrong to fall in love with the same woman as him? Was it so wrong to fall in love with the Lady of Autumn?” A sob escaped your lips, tears streaking down your cheeks, “I’m sorry, Felian…” you whispered, shrinking away from him, frantically tugging at your leg to try to run away. You watched those eyes — those lifeless eyes — stare up at you, begging you to stay with him, to let him drag you down with him to the fire pits of Hell.

📣 trigger warnings: nightmares, mentions of blood, death 🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 3.6k

💜 masterlist | series masterlist + notes: This part has been way overdue, and I am so sorry for that. Writing recently has been way too finicky for me but I’m slowly churning out fics, please look out for them. This part is a bit of (Y/N)’s history, on her reason to take Beron down, to make Eris High Lord. It’s kind of a filler episode, I guess? But still an important episode. In addition, this has a bit of a spoiler for ACOSF and a bit of non-canon stuff as well. The lore of how the Forest House came to be and where the castle was situated reminded me of Rivendell from LOTR. I hope you guys enjoy it! Like, comment, and reblog if you enjoy it! I would love to hear your thoughts!

Your pulse drummed in your ears, eyes trained on the blood that surrounded you — maroon pooled around your feet, like the Nile River that seemed to be overflowing. The stench of metal hit your senses, and you couldn't help but scrunch your nose at the smell, one so strong that the contents in your stomach churned like raging waters in the stormy sea. You fought the urge to vomit as your eyes trailed that river of blood — homing in on a lifeless body only a few feet up ahead.

The mass of hair, one similar to your hair color, was the source of the blood — the body lying on its stomach, a sword impaled in the middle of its back.

With shaky legs, you stepped forward, feeling and hearing the squish of maroon liquid underneath your bare feet. Your breath quickened as you leaned down, and with much effort turned the body around, a cry of horror unknowingly left your lips.

There, laid, your older brother — dead.

“Feilan…” you whimpered, a hand coming up to press against your mouth, holding back another scream at your brother’s lifeless form, taking a step back, your body wanting just to run away from such a horrifying scene.

But your body felt stuck as if your feet were glued to the ground below you and you glanced down, watching bloodied hands reach up from the pool of blood and grasp your calves and shins, leaving bloodied prints along your skin.

A terrified scream left your lungs, trying to reach down to swat those hands away from your legs, trying to desperately move your extremities from the tendrils of death. But when a lifeless hand reached over and grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled yell and fell backward, landing on your bottom.

You grunted, surprised that no pain racked your body at the fall, but when a squeeze of your ankle pulled you from your thoughts, eyes blinked open and trailed those ashen fingers to the revived hues of your older brother.

“(Y/N)…” your name on his dry lips was hoarse, the sound a scratchy noise in your ears and all you could do was whimper, trying to scramble away from the re-dead animation of him.

“All I wanted was to be in love… I didn't want to die. What was wrong to fall in love with the same woman as him? Was it so wrong to fall in love with the Lady of Autumn?”

A sob escaped your lips, tears streaking down your cheeks, “I’m sorry, Felian…” you whispered, shrinking away from him, frantically tugging at your leg to try to run away. You watched those eyes — those lifeless eyes — stare up at you, begging you to stay with him, to let him drag you down with him to the fire pits of Hell.

You wanted to, you had tried to save him, wanted to save your only family member. You were nothing but a child. You had no power in Autumn Court, no leverage of power to sway thoughts… you had little influence over the Autumn Court Family— there was no way for you to save your brother against the jealous rage of Beron Vanserra.

The grip on your ankle grew tighter, drawing your attention back to him and you watched in horror his features melt away — skin and muscle rotting away in blood, revealing the very male that had taken his life away. Lips tugged into a grin as the form of Beron Vanserra started to grab at your calves and thighs, pinning you underneath him. A scream pulled from your lips, as hands gripped the base of your neck, squeezing the air out of your lungs.

Frantic hands grasped Beron’s wrist, trying to use your strength to pull him off of your form — but it was to little use — he was stronger, more powerful than you and your femme stature was no match for the strength of a High Lord.

“—-S-stop…” you gasped out, feeling your body give out underneath his own, “Please…” you all but begged the High Lord.

The inhumane form of Beron grinned and leaned down, his face hovering over your own as you watched for the second time as those regal features shifted to someone you had grown fond of — Eris.

“(Y/N)…” he whispered your name, one filled with malice and hatred in every syllable.

Tears brimmed the edge of your eyes, as you felt your life slowly trickle away from you. Spots started appearing at the corner of your eyes, the grip on your throat growing tighter every second. You watched as his lips mouthed your name, your body feeling airless as you fell unconscious.

“(Y/N)!!!” You were pulled out of the hellish nightmare by strong and reliable hands, your eyes snapping open, your body lurching forward into a sitting position as hands came up to your neck, trying to feel for hands that were taking your life. Your chest heaved, trying to get the air that was sucked out of you… trying to gain your mind back from your dream.

“…(Y/N)…”

The sound of your name, one that was filled with love and care, pulled you from your racing thoughts, your body jumping slightly in the large bed and head whipping towards your left — Eris looking at you with worry, his hand raised in the air, his touch lingering on your shoulder.

Your body wanted to run — those hands were just on your neck, taking an attempt at your life — those hands wanted nothing more but to hurt you. But your mind screamed at you — this wasn’t the Eris that was in your dream, this wasn't the Eris that was trying to take your life.

This was your husband.

The one who knew your secrets, the one who knew your weaknesses. The one who plays your political games in Autumn Court. The one who protected you for millennials.

Your husband who would never lay a hand against you.

When the fight and flight eventually left your body, a shaky sigh escaped your lips — a signal that you were calming down from your dream. It was the only thing that Eris needed to see before he pulled you close, shifting your body to lie sideways on his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist and tucked into his chest, his chin on the crown of your head.

He didn’t say anything — he didn’t have to.

For centuries, your sleep had been plagued with nightmares of one particular day — the death of your older brother, at the hands of Eris’s father. You had watched him die in front of you, watched his life leave his eyes. And as a child of merely two centuries, you couldn’t do anything to save him.

You had despised your brother, no matter how much you missed him — hated that he had fallen in love with Gwinthedwe, Lady Autumn. You had watched him from afar as he courted her, watching her slowly fall in love with him — despite being married to Beron.

No matter how many times your mother had pleaded against continuing to court Gwinthedwe, he wouldn’t listen — begged that she had been the one for him. He planned to elope to another Court, to bring her with him — to save her from the claws of the High Lord.

That night… when the two lovers had planned to leave, Beron had found them and slayed Felian, in front of Gwinthedwe — and unknowing to them, in front of you, as well. You had followed them in shadow, using your power of illusion to cloak yourself in darkness, you watched from behind the pillar as the sword pierced through his chest, the terrified scream from Gwinthedwe echoing the halls.

But to you, all you could stare at in horror was your brother’s dying form and his gaze never left Gwinthedwe’s as the guards dragged her to the shared bedroom of Beron.

All you had wanted to do was scream at the High Lord for killing your brother, scream on the hatred that grew in your stomach for your older brother — but had been too terrified to do so, too afraid to be caught and be at the end of Beron’s sword.

It was Eris who had pulled you away from such a gruesome scene, saved you, and protected you from his father, though he was only a few centuries older than you.

It was right then and then, that you knew what you had to do — to take revenge for your older brother — and to ensure that Beron’s wrath would be ultimately stopped.

You and Eris had played the long game — a millennial long game. You had played the lovely marriage candidate for Eris, softened the heart of Beron, who had long forgotten that your brother had died by his hand and learned the political ways of the Court — all the while being by Eris’s side.

You had played the beautiful wife, the doting wife… the wallflower that only spoke when spoken to.

Unknowing to all that you were nothing but a vicious butterfly waiting to bite on her prey.

“…—-(Y/N)… (Y/N)…!”

A light shake pulled you out of your thoughts, the growing panic in Eris’s voice evident as he called your name again. You hummed, letting your husband know that he had gotten your attention, pulling you away from the past.

“…Sorry…” you apologized, a word that rarely slipped your lips, “I got drawn to the past…” eyes lifted and looked up at Eris, whose features softened at your words.

“How bad was it this time?”

Eris had been your only confidant about these nightmares. He always had asked about it since the first night you had one, millennials ago at the start of your friendship and into your married life.

And he will only be the only one who will ever know your weakness.

A light simper tugged at your lips as you rested your head against his shoulder, “Beron tried to choke me… and then he turned into you… and then you tried to kill me…”

Your words were light — as if it was a normal conversation.

But it wasn’t.

No matter how much you tried to deny it, your figure shook, still traumatized by the dream — by the reality — that still haunted you. The dream took you into the depths of your fears, where you lost your brother, and where you lost your life — whether it be by Beron’s hands… or by Eris’s.

The idea of death scares you, that you were nothing but a shaking leaf in Eris’s lap, paralyzed by the very thought.

You didn’t want to lose your life… not yet.

Not when your revenge against your brother was unfulfilled.

And you would not lose your life before you fulfilled your promise with Eris.

To put him on the Autumn Court throne.

You felt your hands shake in your lap, you glanced down at them with a frown. You hated when your body became vulnerable like this, showing every emotion that you attempted stomped down in your chest. You practiced for millennials to keep your body and emotions in check — to ensure no one knew of your vulnerabilities.

But moments like these, in the dead of the night, where they ran rabid through your body — it was hard to control them.

A large hand grasped your own, pulling you away from your mind once again, seeing Eris’s hand grasp both of yours gently, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes showed with worry, but with a hint of resolution, he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it, letting his lips linger on your skin as he spoke.

“You know I would never lay a finger on you, right?” he asked, truth dripping with every letter.

You nodded your head, and Eris sighed and pressed another kiss on your palm.

He knew your dream was unusual — your dreams usually consist of your dead brother and his father — that nightmarish day still haunting you after so many millennials. However, the fact that he appeared in your dreams with the intent of hurting you, made him worry.

Eris shifted you in his arms, moving you so that you were straddling his thighs, your arms placed around his shoulders while he grasped your waist. Amber hues looked up at you, assessing your features for a moment, “I will never hurt you, nor try to kill you. That would break my promise, wouldn’t it?” he said with a light simper of a smile, softening his features.

You chuckled and nodded, your fingers playing with his auburn hair, the long locks out of its usual ponytail and free flowing over his back, “I know… I just, don’t know why you appeared in my dreams either. I just… think that I fear one day…” Your eyes averted his own, staring at the wall behind him, “I fear one day you will not need me anymore and will dispose of me…”

You felt Eris stiffen underneath you and those hands that were on your waist, slid up your back and grasped the back of your neck, gently forcing your gaze to return to his own.

“I will always need you, (Y/N). You are my wife. After millennials with me, of being at my side, can you not see I need you? As my wife, as my partner-in-crime… You are what I need right now. I will never leave you, I will never dispose of you. Do you understand that?”

His tone was so determined, so strong… yet all so soft that you felt your heart — one that you were sure stopped beating all those years ago — thump in your ribcage. Eris always seemed to see you in such a good light, one that was not tainted in blood nor poison.

You had done horrible things — killed people with your magic, manipulated people to your liking. You did everything in your power to turn the tides to your liking, to ensure that once it was time, Eris, with your help, would be sitting on that throne. That he would have little bloodshed on his hands, and you would be the one bearing all the weight of all the people you’ve killed.

And yet, here was he… your husband, showing you that you were still needed, you were still wanted. That he needed you after all of this, even if he sat on that throne, ruling over Autumn Court:

He would still need you.

A soft sigh escaped your lips and nodded your head, silently answering his question.

Eris let out a disappointing click of his tongue, fingers grasping your chin, “Words, my butterfly. I need your words.”

You chuckled softly, bringing yourself close to him, letting your breath fan over his features, “I understand that you will not abandon me, that you will need me long after you sit on that throne...”

Eris let out a pleased sound, leaning up to kiss your jawline before he maneuvered the both of you back into bed, an amused chuckle escaping your lips.

“You look gorgeous as ever, sister-in-law…”

You paused mid-step, a well-practiced smile tugging on your lips, turning on your heels to greet Rian — the third Vanserra son. You gave an elegant bow, before feeling a finger against your chin, forcing you to look up at him, that arrogant smirk on his features.

“In my eyes, you’re more gorgeous like this… below me…”

Oh the conceit that radiated off him made your lips twitch with annoyance, and your head pound.

Were all the Vanesrra blood like this?

You stood up, forcing his hand off you, tilting your head and feigning innocence, “Unfortunately, Rian…” His eye twitched at the lack of title before his name, “Much to your dislike, I am the wife of your eldest brother… And I’m quite sure he would not be pleased with your words towards me…”

Rian stiffened at such threatening words. Like the other Vanserra brothers, he knew you were off-limits. Eris had made that quite clear when he had married you all those millennials ago — even had decided to kill someone on the spot for attempting to seduce you in front of him.

That show of power and dominance for the Autumn Court Heir had made the brothers wary of you, but being the innocent wallflower you portrayed caused the brothers to seek you out more often than both of you wanted. The brothers vied for your attention, often seeking you out in their free time. They believed that if they had you by their side, they would become the Autumn Heir, pushing their eldest brother out of contestant. You played them, and used that to your advantage — you used them to gather information about the Court, confidential information only the Royal blood would know; using their infatuation to pit them against each other.

The brothers played right into your hands.

“(Y/N)…”

You watched as Rian’s form stiffened, eyes averting from yours to look behind you. He bowed his head and stepped aside, eyes glancing at you for a split moment before he turned his heels and walked down the hall into the throne room.

You knew that voice anywhere — the voice that still echoed in your head, one that still accompanied your nightmares.

Turning on your heels, you gave another deep bow, “Lady Autumn…” you greeted her, straightening from your curtsy to look at the female.

She was still as you remembered, that nightmarish day — beautiful and immortally young. Gwinthedwe hadn’t changed since that day and you couldn’t help but wonder if your brother was still alive, would he have aged as well?

You felt an arm on your shoulder and you snapped out of your thoughts, looking up at the female as she gave you a soft smile — but you could see, underneath that smile was pity. You know that she still looked at you as that child, the child that lost her older brother.

You wanted to blame her — your whole being wanted nothing but to blame her, but you knew you shouldn’t.

She was Eris’s mother, the only person Eris cherished besides yourself.

But she was also the main reason your brother died — their romance was why Felian had to be at the end of Beron’s sword. You knew she regretted it, you saw it every time she looked at you.

And all you could muster up every time was a stiff smile.

“…Was Rian bothering you, (Y/N)?” she asked in a motherly tone, light and airy, soft and gentle.

It made your heart pang.

You shook your head, gently sliding out of her hold, “No more than usual, Lady Autumn…” you answered, eyes averting away from hers, towards the large double doors.

There, you noticed Eris standing near them, awaiting the two of you to enter the throne room.

It seemed that Beron had called the entire family — he had an announcement to make.

Glancing back at the Lady of Autumn, she gazed at you with a light twinkle in her eye, one that came and gone before she stepped ahead of you, greeting her eldest son with a kiss on his forehead before she entered the room.

Eris looked back at you before silently offering his arm.

With your head held up high, ensuring your mind was wrapped in fire and protected by your hounds, you stepped up to your husband’s side, slipping your hand into the crook of his arm. His hand slid into yours, squeezing it as he signaled the guards to open the grand doors.

The groan of ancient wooden doors opened, and you couldn’t help but bring yourself closer to your husband as you stepped through the archway and into the throne room, where the Court turned their heads.

Scrutinizing gazes fell onto you, but you kept your head high, walking gracefully to the dias, and gave the Autumn High Lord and Lady of Autumn a curtsy, all the while Eris gave a bow at his waist.

“Ah, Eris… my son…” Beron’s voice was full of pride at the sight of his eldest son, “And (Y/N)… It seems the whole family has finally arrived. Sit, we have much to discuss…”

You straightened and allowed Eris to lead you to the long table that was situated in the middle of the throne room — an oak table that was carved eons ago from a large oak tree that grew right where the Forest House now stood.

It was said that the first Autumn High Lord searched high and low for the perfect place to build his Court. And when he found the tree — one that had little leaves compared to the foliage that surrounded it — that was near the top of a jagged cliffside, he declared this was where his castle should stand. He built the large castle, allowing the rivers to flow from the top of the mountain to the caverns below, creating intricate pathways and bridges that would confuse trespassers. Only those who have lived in the Forest House and be told its secrets would know the correct path. He built a multitude of rooms to house family and guests, and where that singular oak tree stood, he placed his throne.

With skillful hands, he used the wood of that oak tree to carve this table, the official insignia of the Court — the large oak tree — was carved onto the top. Millennials passed and all the Autumn High Lords added their signature to the Forest House, but this singular table — where the rulings and laws of Autumn Court were created, had never been altered or changed.

You sat in your usual spot, next to Eris, near the head of the table, across from Gwinthedwe. Your eyes focused on the High Lord as he sat at the head of the table, the Autumn Crown made of golden twigs and leaves glimmering on top of his head. Once he had settled in his chair, a pleased smirk tugged on his lips.

“I have found her… I have found Briallyn…”

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages . @strangelygreat . @honeybeeboobaa

🕯️Series Tag List: @imma-too-many-fandoms . @assriels . @kiarathace . @xyzmeh . @doctorpeterphan . @phoenix666stuff . @glaciuswduo . @glitterypirateduck . @cat-or-kitten . @sevikas-whore . @darling006 . @inloveallthetime . @viatorem-maris

those italicized I was not able to tag.

[destiny-in-the-universe]

I am desperately hoping this will reach the right audience, but if there are any K-Drama enthusiasts here on tumblr - please, I need more mutuals to talk to about this sort of thing. Currently, at the very top of my favorites is Vincenzo!

I’m a fanfic writer and I’m hoping to find someone who might be interested in hearing me yap about the series I’ve gotten into. Just a little soft nudge to see if I can find more niche fandoms!

Read below the cut for the K-Dramas I’ve seen!

An (In)complete List of Watched K-Dramas

Vincenzo

Lovely Runner

Taxi Driver

Suspicious Partner

What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim?

Squid Game

It’s Okay to Not be Okay

Descendants of the Sun

While You Were Sleeping

Uncanny Encounter (S1 only!)

Healer

The K-2

Strong Woman Dobong Soon

My Demon

Tale of the Nine-Tailed

Crash Landing on You

Military Prosecutor Doberman

Tomorrow

Alchemy of Souls

Business Proposal

Twinkling Watermelon

Hospital Playlist

The King: Eternal Monarch

True Beauty

I’m sure there are others, but goodness there’s a lot to get through - I’ve also got a few on my watchlist or that I’ve not finished yet!

Unfinished K-Dramas

All of Us are Dead

Move to Heaven

Uncanny Counter

I just want more people to talk to! I’ve reblogged some content for Vincenzo but it seems they’re old, old. Point is: K-Drama fans, where you at? I’m down to talk about fanfics, headcanons and anything in between!

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Dead for a Moment

Wake Up-- Chapter 3

Series Masterlist          Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, description of anxiety and a panic attack, fluff

a/n: So sorry that I left you all hanging!! This is my first multi-chapter fic and I now realize I should’ve written a couple chapters before I started posting. Now that I am getting the hang of things, I am planning on updating this one every Friday! (I already have the next chapter ready to go!) Please reblog, comment, and feel free to send me asks/requests :)

w/c: 1.6k (the next one is longer, I promise!)

Matt shook Judge Hanover’s hand. “It was great catching up, your honor. Have fun in Rome!” The judge chuckled and squeezed Matt’s hand before reentering the crowd to chat with another attendee. 

Taking a moment to assess the room, Matt frowned, realizing you still hadn’t returned to the event. He made his way over to where Foggy and Karen were gathered, asking if they’d seen you. 

“Last I noticed, she was with you and Hanover. You two scare her off?” Foggy asked in jest, but Matt’s discomfort grew. 

“No, she excused herself but never came back.” Focusing his hearing towards the back of the room, he desperately waited for some indication of your whereabouts. He couldn’t hear your voice, or smell your subtle perfume. 

“Foggy, can you…” 

“Yah, of course bud. The bathrooms are this way.” 

As they got closer to the southern wall of the venue, he heard it—your heartbeat. It was frantic, outside the back entrance of the building. 

“She left out the back door. Something’s wrong.” Matt whispered, urgently. 

“Go find her, man. Karen and I will make something up.” 

Matt squeezed Foggy’s arm and began walking towards the exit as quickly as he could without causing a scene. 

Once outside, Matt rushed over to your shaking form, your gasping breaths echoing in his ears. He called your name, “what happened? What’s wrong?” 

“Matty?” You wheezed as he crouched next to you. 

“Yes it’s me. I’m right here, angel. Can I touch you?” His hands hovered near you as he desperately waited for your permission. Collapsing against his chest, you gave a stifled sob. 

Instinctively, his arms wrapped around you. “Breathe, sweet thing. You’re gonna make yourself sick. Follow my breaths ok?” He slowly maneuvered one of your hands over his chest so you could feel it rise with each inhale. He could feel you struggling to imitate as your other hand clenched around his suit jacket. 

“You’re doing so well, angel. Keep breathing for me. I got ya.” He sat the two of you down, with his back against the alley wall. Pulling you into his lap, he stroked your back as your hyperventilating started to wane. 

“That’s it. Just like that, sweetness.” He murmured into your hair as he held you. Your heart rate was still rapid, but you were at least taking in air again. 

“I’m—I’m so sorry.” Your voice was hoarse and Matt felt downright mournful hearing how broken you sounded. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, sweet thing. Not one thing.” He assured you, lips moving against your hairline. “Whenever you’re ready, we can get outta here, ok?” 

“And go wh—where?” Your ragged breaths were forcing you to stumble over your words. 

“Wherever you want. My place isn’t too far but we can go to yours if you’d be more comfortable.” 

“Yours is good.” Still slightly breathless, you push back from him and start to stand up. You wobbled viciously, and would’ve fallen back to the pavement if it weren’t for Matt’s quick reflexes. “Easy, easy. We don’t have to go yet, we can wait another minute.” He rubbed his hands over your arms, looking at you with a furrowed brow.

“No, I want to go. Please, Matt.” Turning to him with glassy eyes, you begged. You needed to get as far away from this place as possible if you wanted to avoid another panic attack. 

“Ok, sweetness. Let’s go.” Adjusting his hold on you so that your arms are linked, he took your hand. “My place is a couple blocks west of here. Did you want to get a cab?” 

“No, I’m ok.” He gave your hand a squeeze, leading you back to his apartment. 

———————————————————————————————————

Once you were inside Matt’s loft, you felt exhausted. The emotional toll of your anxiety attack had finally set in. As always, Matt seemed to sense the change in your energy. 

“Sit down, love.” He tenderly tugged you over to the couch and helped you sit. “Take off those stiff shoes, do you want to borrow some comfier clothes?”

“Yes please.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

Matt tenderly squeezed your arm. “I’ll be right back.” 

You slipped off your heels and rubbed at your face. The tear tracks had burned itchy trails through your makeup. The familiar lights from the billboard outside Matt’s place danced across the living room. As you took in your surroundings, a wave of guilt and embarrassment crashed over you. Biting at your lip, you realized you had just dragged Matt away from his friends and a great networking opportunity for, what? An emotional outburst because some lady had brought up your old coworker? Because she didn’t think you were pretty or interesting? 

Matt padded back into the room, holding a pair of sweats and a crew neck sweatshirt. “Here, sweetness. You remember where the bathroom is?”

“Mmhmm” you nodded, taking the clothes and heading to change. 

Matt let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. What the hell had happened to you? When the two of you were milling about, your pulse had been steady. You’d seemed confident, almost happy to be there. Who had ruined that for you? 

You shuffled around in his bathroom as you changed. Matt shrugged off his suit coat and loosened his tie. Removing his glasses, he moved to the kitchen to fill two glasses with water. Dutifully listening to you, he heard your breath shudder as you held back a sob. Clenching his hands around the glasses, he moved to set them on the coffee table. Pacing over to the bathroom, he hesitated a minute before knocking softy on the door. 

“Need anything else, sweetness?” His question was quiet and he impatiently waited for a response. You moved towards the door, opening it carefully before staggering into his arms. 

“I’m so sorry, Matt. I ruined everything.” 

“What do you mean, angel? How did you ruin everything?” 

Tears were welling up in your eyes again. “You left because of me. I stopped you from enjoying yourself.” You tried to pull back from him but he kept holding you close. 

“Hey, don’t worry your pretty head about that, ok? I told you before, you get to call the shots. I know these events make you nervous. Leaving is always an option.” 

You nodded against his chest, biting your lip. He kissed the top of your head firmly, stroking your back. The pair of you remained woven together for a moment as you calmed down. When your breathing had steadied a bit, Matt pulled back and faced you.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Those events never have enough food.” Matt grinned at you, trying to at least get you to crack a smile. “Want to order something?” 

“Yah, that sounds good.” You scrubbed a hand at your face and let him lead you back to the couch. After he had you nestled into his side, Matt placed an order to his favorite Thai place. You weren’t really hungry, but you doubted he’d be letting you leave without eating. 

Waiting for your meal to arrive, you could practically feel Matt holding himself back, giving you space. It must’ve been killing him to not know what happened when you stepped away. Absentmindedly, he ran his hand over your arm. You sighed, turning your face into his neck. 

“It was Snyder.”

“What?” He pulled back, head tilting in confusion. 

“She’s the one who—the reason I freaked, it was Snyder.” 

A low growl emanated from Matt’s chest, rumbling through you. “What the hell did she do?” 

“It was stupid, Matty. I mean—“ 

“It wasn’t stupid.” He murmured, in that same deep rumble. “If it upset you to that degree, it wasn’t stupid.” A dark rage burned in his eyes. You’d never seen this side of him before. Other people might’ve been frightened, but you tugged him closer, pressing up against him again. He relaxed a tiny bit, letting you pull his arms around you like a security blanket. 

“She just…she called me pathetic. Said I wasn’t good enough to date you, that I stole my job. It was just some jealousy-induced bullshit.” 

“She what?” You let Matt pull away this time. He stood from the couch, pacing angrily. “How fucking dare—“

“Matt, really. It’s ok, I overreacted.” You offered, turning to watch him as he tugged at his hair with frustration. 

“No, you didn’t. She shouldn’t have—“ Matt inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut. He knelt before you. 

“You did not overreact. She’s an asshole who’s upset because she can’t have the younger man she’s been pursuing for years. You’re allowed to be upset, what she said was cruel.” His eyes flitted around you, distressed. 

“We aren’t actually dating, Matt. I shouldn’t care so much about her opinion of us!” 

“Your reaction is more than understandable. This was exactly what you were afraid of, wasn’t it?” Matt’s knuckle brushed over your cheek and you leaned into his touch, sighing. “You tried to tell us what you thought might happen. You reminded me today! And we all brushed it off, and then…”

“You didn’t.” You murmured, eyes locked on his distant yet passionate gaze. “You believed me, offered to stand up for me.” 

“I did. And I would have! I should’ve paid more attention.” Matt scolded himself, still running his fingers along your face soothingly. 

You grasped the hand he was resting on your cheek, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “It wasn’t your fault. You are, quite possibly, the person farthest from the line of blame in this situation. Don’t beat yourself up, please.” 

“That’s a pretty common habit of mine.” 

“I know. ‘Catholic guilt’ should be your middle name.” You flicked your thumb under his chin making him smile. “But you’ve unfortunately chosen an agnostic fake partner, so I’m here to remind you that not everything is your fault.”

Matt let out a mirthless laugh, “Agree to disagree.” 

Before you could chastise him, there was a knock at the door. “Our food’s here.” He gave a sheepish grimace, standing to get the door. Watching him retreat, you bit your lip with a smile. Tonight had been tough, no doubt about it, but you couldn’t help but be grateful for your incredibly sweet fake-boyfriend.

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I hope you enjoyed!! Feel free to reblog, comment, and send me requests! 

Tag list: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle

[lahooozaherr]

What Was I Made For?

Part 1

Please note: This blog stands with Palestine. If you are interacting with my account and TLOU related posts, I ask that you PLEASE visit these links. Be critical and mindful while partaking in TLOU content and be aware that creator Neil Druckmann is a Zionist.

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: Hypothermia??, soft!Joel, a pet name (sweetheart), Joel kinda goes to therapy, mention of child/loved one loss, I think that’s it but as always please let me know

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNTS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Chapter Summary: Joel and Tommy find you on their morning patrol, saving you from succumbing to hypothermia. You and Joel bond almost immediately, visiting you in your recovery. He takes your recommendation for a book you both relate to.

A/N: Howdy y’all, I’m so sorry I posted my Masterlist and lowkey ghosted :’D I went on vacation, my sweet bby cat passed away, life happened. But I finally got this edited where I want it and I hope I can keep those creative wheels turnings. Please comment and reblog if you end up liking it, it keeps me going!

Joel Vibes Playlist

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | My Taglist

It had been a long journey, but you think you’d finally made it as you trekked across the snowy landscape. It was barely before the crack of dawn, the sky still a deep blue with scattered stars. You did your best to travel here from your previous “home”, coming across a dead traveler’s map indicating the supposed safe place.

You were exhausted, cursing to yourself that you shouldn’t have pushed your body as much as you had. But you were desperate. And scared, so tired of being scared. Traveling alone was already risky, but with your body pushed to its limit, it was twice as much.

You find your way to a clearing with some trees and bushes when you collapse. Your body had quite literally given up on you, after everything you put it through. What a cruel irony that it would be just when you’d made it to your destination.

Consciousness was becoming harder and harder to hold onto as you laid there in the snow, body too worn out to even shiver. You get one last look of the night sky as everything fades to black.

—————————————————————————

Joel didn’t particularly care for patrol, he just simply did it because he was one of the most fit for the job. Settling in Jackson meant doing your part for the community, and this became his. But over time he appreciated the solitude it provided. Once in a while there had been trouble with a wandering Infected, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

An early horse ride through the quiet mountainside outside of the town just as the sun rises ended up being a soothing balm for his aches. He’d ride alongside Tommy, sometimes engaging in conversation, but most of the time the brothers rode on in a companionable silence.

There’s something healing about being able to spend time in nature without as much fear for impending danger or survival.

Tommy was midway through his explanation for plans to head straight to breakfast upon their return when he stopped, halting his horse underneath him. “Joel, look, do you see that?” He points ahead of him. Joel stops alongside him, following his pointer finger, squinting his eyes to see better. The sun had just started to rise and cast a bright light off of the snow.

Joel finally spots what Tommy is bringing attention to, what looks like a slumped-over body in the snow. He swiftly jumps off his horse, bringing his rifle over his shoulder to ready just in case of danger. He signs to Tommy for silence with a finger raised to his lips, quietly stalking towards the body. It doesn’t move.

When he approaches the body, seeing it’s you, he sighs and signs to Tommy that it’s safe. Tommy releases the breath he held in, “what is it?”

“A girl,” Joel kneels next to you and checks you over, bringing a hand to touch your face. You’re ice cold, enough for him to at first think you’re dead. But he knows better than to assume from just that, moving his fingers over your neck’s pulse point, then reaching for your wrist. He feels a pulse. Faint, but definitely there.

“She’s alive!” He shouts to Tommy, who jumps off his horse, reaching into the satchel on its side and pulls out a homemade quilt. After making a quick look for obvious wounds on your body, Joel makes quick work of removing his top coat and maneuvers you around to wrap you in it. It’s leather and thick, something that should hopefully trap any heat it can.

Tommy’s next to Joel’s side in an instant, handing him the blanket he also uses to wrap you in.

Joel shuffles on his knees to prepare himself to lift you, feeling a twinge in his lower back that makes him groan. Tommy holds his arms out, “here I got ‘er, don’t hurt your back.”

“Nah, nah it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah it’s ok, you take care of the horses. I’ got her, I don’t want to try to sling her over one though.”

“Alright.”

Tommy returns to the horses, connecting the leash of Joel’s to his. He mounts his and leads them after Joel.

Joel adjusts you in his arms, cautiously getting you into a proper position to carry you. His eyes dart all over your features, taking them in. His mind runs through all the ways they can take a shortcut back to the town and considers them. He doesn’t know how long you’ve been out here and has no idea how much time you could have.

He scrunches the hood of the blanket around your face, not completely covering it but just enough to start building some warmth. For the meantime, at least.

He stomps one foot before the other in the snow, breaking it apart with the large steps to get through. Him and Tommy head back down their trail.

—————————————————————————

You are frozen, you can definitely feel that. Your limbs feel stiff and threaten to tremble more than they could be if it weren’t for the all encompassing embrace you feel. When you start to hazily come to, you realize you’re wrapped and being carried.

Hold on. You’re being carried?

Before you can even process the entire thought, your heart rate starts to pick up. You hear your blood in your ears and bile rises at the back of your throat as panic starts to set in. Where are you being taken? Whose carrying you?”

When you open your eyes, you don’t even stop to take a look at who's holding you, you just do your damndest to wiggle out of their arms.

“Whoa, WHOA there!”

You hear a man cry out but you continue to jerk away. He fumbles his grip on you but still manages to keep you close. He kneels to set you on the ground, leaning against him.

“Hey. Heyyy, settle down now,” he says in a low voice, attempting to calm you down. With his hand that’s not underneath you, he uses it to cup the side of your face and bring your attention to him.

You stop fighting back as soon as you meet his eyes. Dark, brown eyes you become instantly lost in. They look concerned, and warm as he keeps them on yours. You start to calm down, only the sound of your ragged breathing between you.

“Hey now, it’s ok, you’re safe I promise,” he almost pleads to you, attempting further to coaxe you down. Not that you have much strength to fight back anyhow. But the look in his eyes, and the sincerity in his voice, breaks through to you. You could almost cry, it’s a miracle you were found.

“We’re taking you back to our town,” he explains, his southern accent peeking through the lilt in his tone. “We’ll fix ya up there, ok sweetheart?”

Before he can really finish what he’s saying, you’ve been pulled back into a deep sleep. You’re finally experiencing a sliver of safety since god knows when, and it’s enough for your body to relax and give in to the darkness.

—————————————————————————

When you come to, your body feels instantly thrusted into fight or flight. You open your eyes with a sharp inhale through your nose, hands clutching the bedding surrounding you. You feel a large hand quickly cover yours, holding and giving an intentional squeeze.

You look over to that side of you and see the man from earlier. He’s seated beside you, one hand over yours and the other rubbing your shoulder. It feels like he’s trying to help ground you, once again.

“Hey I’m here, it’s alright,” he practically cooes. The timbre of his voice is stern but smooth at the same time. The hand on your shoulder runs up and down your arm.

You stare back at him, speechless. Your breathing is rapid and hard to bring down, heart hammering in your chest.

“Here, just breathe with me, ok?” He starts to demonstrate to you a breathing technique, inhaling and exhaling from his nose as well, in timed increments. You do as he says and follow along, matching your breathing to his. He guides the hand he’s holding to sit flat on your belly, then reaches for your other hand to place on your chest. He gives a quick grunt of approval as he continues along with you.

After a few minutes, your rapid heartbeat and breathing subside. When he notices, one side of his mouth turns up into a grin.

You study his features as you come down, noticing his eyes once again. He looks like a gruff man on the surface, but his emotions shine bright through his eyes. His salt and pepper hair is fluffy and slightly tamed. Scruff that matches frames his jaw, save for a few bare patches. But that doesn’t take away from how handsome he is.

“There now, there ya go,” he encourages, giving your hand another intentional squeeze. “The so-called therapist in town taught me that. Helpful, huh?”

You can’t seem to muster a response despite the thousands of questions that flood your mind. You look around at your surroundings and do your best to soak it all in. You’re in a normal bedroom, in a very normal bed covered with quilts. A normalcy you haven’t seen in so long.

You notice to the side of him is a pair of reading glasses on top of a book. When your eyes meet him again, he grins cautiously as he removes his hands and leans back. You already miss the safety of his touch.

“Did you….stay with me?” You finally stutter out a question. He sits straight in his seat and nods, you can see the flex of his shoulders from how tight his plaid shirt stretches across them.

“I figured you’d want to wake up to a somewhat familiar face,” he answers with a chuckle. “You’re in Jackson, by the way.”

You lean back against the pillows, releasing a sigh of relief. You made it, you really made it. And this man saved you, almost in more ways than one already.

“Name’s Joel,” he offers. In return, you share your name as well.

His gaze on you feels comforting, the most you’ve felt from a man in ages. It’s very hard to come by that in this world.

A knock on the door startles you, causing you to reflexively grab for Joel’s hand. He allows you, wrapping your hand in his. The door opens and a woman approaches from the other side, “hey there, heard some commotion. Is our girl finally awake?”

“She sure is,” Joel responds to her. She nods in acknowledgement to him and approaches your other side, “I’m one of the town doctors, Elaina.” You snap out of your daze and respond with your name again and she smiles.

“Joel got you here just in the nick of time, any longer and you would have been in serious trouble. Mild hypothermia. After a week or so of rest and recovery, you should be just fine. Apologies for the change in clothes, I had to check for wounds. I’m sure you understand.”

“H-how long was I out?”

“Not too long since I found you,” Joel interjects. “But at least been a day.”

The more you’ve sat at attention, the more you can feel the stiff soreness throughout your limbs. You slump back into the bed and release a breathy exhale. It definitely feels like it will be some time before you’re back up and running.

Joel pats your hand and stands, “I’ll be right back.” When he rises to stand, you reach out to grab his hand back. But halfway through you realize how strange that might seem and stop yourself. But he seems to notice, and gives you a reassuring smile, “I’m grabbing you some food, I won’t be long.” You concede, “ok.”

After he leaves, the doctor places a stethoscope across your back and chest. You do as she directs so she can check you over. She tells you to give yourself about a week or so before any activity, stay in bed, etc. and to not worry.

“Now that you’re in Jackson, you’re a part of the community, the details can be worried about later,” she affirms to you. Relief washes over you. You feel so grateful to have ended up here. To have been saved. Especially to be saved by Joel.

—————————————————————————

Later, Joel returns with a tray of food. Something light, for the time being. You can’t overdo it in this state. You thank him before promptly digging in.

He sits back in the chair he occupied before, bringing his book and glasses back to his lap.

“Is that what you were doing while you waited for me?” You query, as he responds with an amused huff, hanging the reading glasses in the front pocket of his flannel shirt.

“Yeah, had to pass the time somehow,” he mutters as he takes a quick shuffle through the book pages. “Been pretty caught up in this one lately.”

He holds it for you to see the name: No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy. The name seems familiar, maybe you’ve read something of his. It’ll probably come to you later.

You stop eating your food for a moment, processing the situation some more. “Thank you,” you begin to say.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replies in a voice almost mournful. Haggard from years of living in this kind of world.

“Well, I am,” you state.

You stare into each other's eyes for a few moments, not budging. His expression seems conflicted, like he doesn’t know how to receive thanks in the first place. He pats both of his legs before standing, picking up his book from your side table. “Well I best be lettin’ you rest.”

You wish you could ask him to stay, but prevent yourself from that as well. You’ve only just met the man, but even then, after only just meeting, he’s made you feel the most security you’ve had in so long. Maybe it’s the abandonment issues but your heart screams for him to stay.

You’re not sure how to respond with this whirlwind in your chest crying out for comfort. You settle with a nod to him on his way out. He stops in the doorway to give you a wave goodbye and pauses, eyes lingering on you before he finally turns to leave.

The doctor, Elaina, checks on you a few more times before leaving you to rest for the night. As much as you feel lonely, you also feel content. It’s hard to resist the real mattress and blankets that surround you. The silence is comfortable as you drift back into a proper slumber.

—————————————————————————

He returns the next morning, to your surprise again. He finds you sitting upright in bed, just after Elaina had done her morning check on you. She gives him a small smile in acknowledgment passing him on her way out of the door.

“You came back?” You questioned. He lingers in the doorway with a tray of food, eyes searching yours for silent permission to enter.

He looks down at the tray and back to you, “I figured I’d stop by after my patrol….bring you some proper breakfast.”

You’re stunned and start to become very aware of how obvious that emotion is displayed in your expression. It’s such a kind gesture, from someone who just barely met (saved) you yesterday. Worry laces his features subtly, when you notice you smile, “thank you.” His face brightens slightly, trading the worrisome facade for one of relief.

He gingerly sets the tray upon your lap and returns to the same seat beside you. A sigh of relief escapes his lips, you’re not sure if it’s from his busy morning or that he’s attained your approval. You don’t mind either way.

“How’re ya feelin’ today?” He asks, adjusting himself in his seat, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“Already so much better,” you respond as you situate the tray of food on your lap. “I keep thinking it’s a dream. I haven’t been met with kindness like this in so long.”

His face is stoic but his eyes speak volumes, full of empathy. You can tell he understands the feeling without saying it. He leans back and folds his arms across his chest as he watches you take bites of your food.

“Where are ya from?”

“Denver QZ. I came across a map with notes about here. Figured I had nothing to lose.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah. I’ve been alone for a while.”

The conversation grows grim, nearing a tender spot. A spot Joel is very familiar with.

“That’s very dangerous, travelin’ by yourself,” he states, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It was. I’ve learned to be quiet and lie low. But I know I’m just lucky,” you sigh. You were very aware of how bad it could have gone. But self preservation is thin when you’re isolated and desperate. You don’t feel like you have to explain yourself much more in regards to that. He seems to accept it, though.

“Well…” he begins, taking your finished tray and setting it to the side. “You’ve come to the right place. Tommy’ll figure out the details.”

“Tommy?”

“My brother. He an’ I found you together, he’ll come see you himself eventually,” he continues.

“But you just worry about resting, leave to rest to us and Elaina. We’ll help you get settled in.”

You nod slowly, absorbing the new information. It’s been such a relief to have others to rely on, to finally find a community. You can’t wait for this fresh start.

You look around him, “didn’t bring your book today?”

“Ah, it’s at home. I thought about bringing it up but I didn’t know if you were going to talk my ear off or not,” he teases, giving you a half-grin.

You feel heat rushing to your cheeks, “been a long time since I’ve done that, too.” You chuckle under your breath.

But as you relax back into the bed, stomach full, you feel like you could sleep forever. The satisfied feeling tempts you back to sleep, but you’re too interested in your new friendship with Joel. You wonder why such an intimidating man like himself chooses to stick by you.

“I was thinking about where I’d seen that author before, from the book you’re reading,” you tell him. “It’s been a very long time but I’ve read his book called ‘The Road’.”

You think back to when you had read the book, finding it in a pile in an abandoned library you’d stumbled into years ago. It was one of the few you’d taken.

“‘The Road’, huh?” He rubs at the scruff on his chin with his knuckles. “What’s it about?”

You give him a shrug, “well, a father and son in the apocalypse. Although a bit of a hard read, nowadays.”

Joel’s interest peaked, “father and son?”

You nod with a yawn, “But it’s honestly good, I still enjoyed it….” Your voice starts to trail off, growing more tired.

“Is that so?” He ponders for a moment, genuinely. “If I see it I’ll grab it.”

You nuzzle into your pillow with a sleepy grin as you close your eyes, “if you do…..we can talk about it….”

Joel watches you fall asleep, exhaustion finally winning over. He smiles to himself.

—————————————————————————

Joel does find the book, pretty quickly actually. When he left you to rest, he sought out the makeshift library in town. By a stroke of luck, the selection had plenty of that author. Even doubles of some of his titles. But Joel sifted through until he finally came across a copy of ‘The Road’.

He gives it a look over on his walk home, reading through the synopsis on the back.

A father and his son walk alone through burned America. Nothing moves in the ravaged landscape save the ash on the wind.

It makes him think of Ellie and Sarah. The world as it is now. He remarks on how ironic it feels to have this recommended to him, by someone who barely knows him.

He starts on it that night.

—————————————————————————

“You’re back,” you state, your eyes meeting Joel’s as he lingers in your doorway. Again, with a tray of food in his hands.

“I didn’t have patrol today,” is his only explanation he offers. You accept that, because you’ve been secretly hoping to see him again anyways.

He sets the tray in front of you as you murmur a thank you. He settles back into the seat next to you, “how are you feeling this morning?”

“Much better,” you explain. “I slept for so long, Elaina had to wake me up to eat dinner.”

“Good, I’m sure your body needs it.”

Heat threatens to cross your cheeks from that statement until you tamp it down, “do you eat?”

Joel quirks an eyebrow in response, you immediately realize how poorly the question sounded.

“I-I’m sorry, I mean, you’ve been bringing me food. I hope you’ve also been eating?”

“I do,” he shrugs. “But, it’s hard to, sometimes.”

The expression on his face is somber, something you find harder to read. But based on your personal experience, feelings like anxiety and stress can certainly do that to someone. You feel it’s best to not press further.

He reaches into his inner coat pocket and pulls out a book, laying it next to your legs, “I found you some readin’ material.”

A soft gasp escapes your lips, followed by a smile. You pick up the copy of ‘The Road’, turning it in your hands. It’s been too long since you last held a book that wasn’t at least falling apart or being eaten by mold.

You flip through the pages, marveling at the condition. It’s not brand new by any means, but it’s at least cared for. Adorned with the regular wear and tear of readers' in the past.

“I’m almost done with it,” he notes. Your heart swells in your chest. He was so quick to find and read it. You see where he’s bookmarked it, just a couple of pages from the end. There’s just nothing like the feeling of someone taking your recommendation for a book and actually reading it.

“That was so fast!” You exclaim, opening the book where he last was.

“I couldn’t put it down, to be honest.”

“You must have really like it?”

“I do, very much,” he grins. “I saw some of myself in there.”

“I love when that happens, even if it’s sad.”

You start to skim through, looking for something. He watches you intently as your fingers slide through the pages. The look on your face is satisfying to him, a twinkle returning to your eyes.

“Ah, here, one of my favorite quotes,” you begin to read the passage out loud.

‘You have to carry the fire.

I don’t know how to.

Yes, you do.

Is the fire real? The fire?

Yes it is.

Where is it? I don’t know where it is.

Yes you do. It’s inside you. It always was there. I can see it.’

You lift your head to meet Joel’s gaze, warm with a hint of sorrow. Your emotions probably match his own, in some capacity.

“It made me think of my daughter,” he admits quietly. Your smile drops, he gestures for you to hand him the book. When he takes it, he turns through it until he finds what he’s looking for. He reads the passage.

‘Each the other’s world entire.’

You remember that line. You’ve thought about that a lot. The meaning of it. You used to have others in your life like that. Loved ones lost to the beginning of the end of the world as you knew it.

He stares down at the page, caressing it with his thumb. His chest expands with a deep breath. When he looks back up to you, his eyes are glazed over. Your eyebrows turn upward in concern for him.

He jerks his chin towards your tray, “you should eat.”

You and almost entirely forgot about the food, too caught up in the moment to even feel your stomach rumble. You bring the tray closer to begin your meal, “your daughter?”

He doesn’t respond right away, which sends your stomach into a somersault. You feel insensitive for asking like that. For something so obviously personal and distressing.

“I-I’m sorry, I keep getting ahead of myself,” you stammered, launching into damage control mode. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart,” he reassures you, his voice is tender and low. The nickname would be music to your ears if it weren’t accompanied with such sadness. But you’re so empathetic to this, you know how hard it can be to find the words. He doesn’t seem offended, at least.

Your meal is spent listening to him explain what happened, to your surprise. You’d half expect someone in his position to keep that closed off. A wound that still feels open and fresh.

But he tells what happened that day everything changed. How his daughter was ripped away from him so suddenly, her life slipped away as he held her in his arms. Cradled her long after she was gone, closer to his chest than the day she was born.

He also tells you about Ellie, how that relationship came to be. He’s more vague with this story, but you feel like you have a mutual understanding of that. You feel honored enough that he was willing to share with you. You’re happy he’s found purpose again. No one could ever replace Sarah, but Ellie became the lighthouse in the dark that he desperately needed, much to his own surprise.

It’s extremely hard to move on from something like that. It’s frightening to find new love and always fear of losing it again. It’s scary to be vulnerable in an apocalyptic world that seeks to stamp down any semblance of safety and consistency.

Food tray long since finished and set to the side, you bring the book back to your lap as you listen to him finish his story. You thumb through the pages until you find a line that came to your mind as he spoke about Sarah and Ellie. You read it out loud.

‘You have my whole heart. You always did.’

He smiles softly, cupping his hand over yours to give you a small affectionate squeeze as you hold the book. You return the gesture, opening your palm for him. His hands are large, warm and calloused. The warmth of his hand in yours is soothing.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” you comfort him.

“I don’t usually do that,” he murmurs as he brings a sleeve up to dab at the tears that say at the ends of his eyes. “Must be special.”

You smile bashfully, your eyes drawn down to your lap to avoid his gaze. You hear a low chuckle rumble from his chest.

“I regularly ask myself….if I couldn’t save my baby, the one most precious to me, what was I made for?”

You meet his eyes with tears pricking at the ends of yours, you try to convey as much empathy and compassion as possible in your eyes. Let him read them.

“You were made to love, and be loved,” you tell him, matter of factly.

His lips part in awe, rendered speechless. You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if he had only simply forgotten this fact.

Not him, not with his past, not with the blood on his hands, is what he almost says. You had both alluded to each other at times that you’ve both had to do things to survive this world. Most have. But you were still somehow loving, kind and compassionate. Even to someone like him. He knows how he comes across to people in town, and it’s hard to adjust and unlearn that survival habit to be brooding and formidable. But it’s also what’s comfortable, what he’s used to. It’s carried him this far in life.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes.

Divider by @saradika (I usually make sure to reblog your dividers but I wasn’t sure if I got this one so I’m tagging you here. I usually get my dividers from you but I don’t want to spam you with my fics so I wanted to let you know here at least ;3;)

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Post-Hunt Comfort

Summary - Part 5 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic)

Warnings - mentions of periods, nausea, smut (nothing too graphic, just mentioned), mild swearing

Word Count: 1883

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. This one gets a little emotional, I literally cried while writing it. And remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy! 

You wake up feeling groggy, yet better. You take in your surroundings slowly, noting the cold empty bed, your laptop beside you playing soothing music, and the lack of other movement or sounds. As you sit up you notice the weapons bag is also gone, having left just your silver knife that Dean had gifted you with both of your initials engraved on the blade, and your gun on the nightstand for emergencies. Your stomach sinks realising they must’ve gone hunting the nest on their own while you were sleeping. You knew Dean would be itching to get it over and done with so you could go back to the bunker and rest off your “worst-ever period” in comfort. But still, you wish he would’ve waited or at least let you know. That’s when your eyes land on a folded note on your nightstand beside your gun.

Good evening my love,

I hope you slept well and are feeling better. I left a bowl of soup in the fridge for you, just heat it up and eat what you can. Also, help yourself to the chocolate that’s in there too, and make sure to stay hydrated. Maybe even take a nice warm bath. Then cuddle with your new bunny. I made sure it’s nice and soft and cuddly, just how you like. 

Sam and I will be back as soon as we can. I love you.

Dean xx

Dean had never been the type to leave you letters, he was more the quick, shorthand text type. But you loved the letter and you planned to treasure it. You shut your laptop and then got up to follow his careful instructions. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You start to stress when the sun goes down and you’re still alone. You’d taken the time to do everything outlined in Dean’s note, including having a nice long soak in the tub with the lavender bath bomb that you found sitting on the bathroom sink. Another thoughtful gift left by your fiancé no doubt. And you’d quite enjoyed yourself, you felt so relaxed and much better all around. But when you notice how dark it is outside all that relaxation drains away, replaced by the stress of wondering where the boys are and if they are even alive.

You clutch your new stuffed bunny to your chest as you sit on your bed waiting. You pick up your phone multiple times willing for them to call or text saying they are on their way. When you’re not checking your phone, you’re staring at the door, listening for the purr of that much comforting engine. 

An hour passes and still nothing. You start to feel sick again; your stomach’s in knots. Tears creep down your cheeks. 

I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this alone.

Out of desperation and utter fear that the love of your life and his brother may actually be dead, you decide to pray to the one good angel you know.

Castiel, if you can hear me please bring my boys home safe. Please, I just need to know they’re safe. Please protect them. I can’t lose them. Please, Cass, bring my boys back to me. 

You lose track of time as you continue to pray and cry for your boys. You don’t know what time it is when Dean, Sam and Cass walk in. Dean’s arms are around you within seconds, his lips leaving kisses all over your face and neck as he promises he’s safe and apologises for scaring you. 

“There were more than we anticipated, but it’s okay. We’re both okay. I’m okay. I’m right here, sweetheart. I promise we’re gonna go home first thing in the morning. Back to the comfort and safety of the bunker, okay? Thanks for calling Cass, by the way. He’s no substitute for your badass but he did save our asses, so thank you. You’re always saving me.”

You hug him even tighter, sobbing into his chest as he holds you just as tight. Dean takes a deep breath as he leans down to kiss along the exposed skin of your neck.

“You smell amazing, sweetheart. Did you enjoy that bath bomb? I’ll have to buy another one so I can enjoy it with you next time.”

A small smile graces your face at his words; he always knows exactly how to make you feel better. You move your head slightly, and Dean takes full advantage of the extra available skin.

“I can’t wait to get you back to the bunker. It’s been way too long, baby girl,” he groans lowly into your neck. 

Suddenly, you feel super aware of your surroundings and how on show you are, with Sam and Cass sitting at the table across the room talking. You can feel Dean’s growing excitement against your thigh through his jeans. “Dean, baby.”

Dean pulls away reluctantly and looks up at you, he groans. “I know, I know. I’m gonna go have a cold shower, then we can cuddle and get some sleep.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You wake up to the feeling of Dean’s lips on your neck and his hands tickling the bare skin of your stomach where your tank top had ridden up overnight. 

“Hmmm, I could get used to waking up like this.”

“Good morning, beautiful, sleep well? How’re you feeling? You feel a little bloated still, how’re your cramps?”

“I feel better, for now at least.”

“I’m glad to hear that. What do you want for breakfast, let me take you out … uh, if you’re up for it. We haven’t even properly celebrated our engagement yet.”

“Dean…”

Dean helps you turn around in your arms before sitting up. He takes your left hand in his running his fingers over the ring. “You did mean it when you said yes, right?”

“What?”

“I mean, you’ve been a little distant ever since. You’re not talking to me like you usually do. Are we okay? Did I move too fast? If you’re not ready…”

“Dean, baby, of course, I meant it,” you say as you take a quick glance around the room, finding the other bed, table and couch empty. You figure Sam must be out on his morning run so you climb onto Dean’s lap. You wrap your arms around his neck as he just watches you. You bring your lips to him, pecking him lightly before deepening the kiss, Dean instantly kisses back. One hand holding the back of your head, pulling you closer while the other grips your waist, urging you to grind against his slight morning wood. Your lips are swollen and his hands are at the hem of your shirt pulling it up when you hear the doorknob turn. You pull away quickly and race into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. You hear Dean groan in frustration before you turn the water on. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s 6 pm when you pull into another dingy motel room in Dallas, Texas. Thankfully, you weren’t here for a hunt, you just couldn’t stand another 8 hours in the car yet, you needed a break. You were feeling uncharacteristically car sick, which luckily Dean was still attributing to your so-called terrible period. 

Once you’re all settled in the room Sam offers to go for a supply and dinner run, and you opt to go with him much to your fiancé’s dismay. You knew that despite your best efforts this morning he was still feeling a little dejected. Every time your eyes met in the rearview mirror during the day all you could see was concern. Those looks used to be filled with love and cheekiness. You were starting to worry that you would lose him. But you just didn’t have the strength or energy to do anything about it. Between the waves of nausea, heartburn and your all-over-the-place emotions, you didn’t have the capacity for anything that Dean wanted or needed from you, not to mention the lack of privacy. 

As you walk through the gas mart with Sam you can’t help but stop in front of the pregnancy tests, debating whether to take one. You know once you do there will be no hiding it from Dean, while you’re not certain you can keep playing it off as a period with no bloody pads or tampons to dispose of. But you know if you bring the test back he will surely see it. You’re just not sure you’re ready for that conversation yet.

Just as you almost convince yourself to grab one, Sam comes up behind you. “You talk to Dean yet?”

You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest, walking out of the aisle. 

“What are you so afraid of? That he’ll leave? Have you seen how he is with you? There’s zero chance he does that! He’s loyal to a fault and he loves you. Yeah, he might be a little shocked or concerned. But he’ll also be so excited to take that jump with you. I know my brother, Y/N.”

You know in your heart Sam is right, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You walk outside empty-handed and lean on Baby’s hood while you wait for Sam to pay. Suddenly a wave of nausea hits you and you keel over emptying your lunch and stomach bile on the road. As you stand up, you look around taking in all the concerned and disgusted faces watching you from around the parking lot. You feel so sore and embarrassed and you can’t stop the tears from falling. Within minutes Sam’s arms are around you as he helps you into the car before moving around to the driver’s seat. 

You bring your knees up to your chest on the seat and bury your head into them during the silent drive back to the motel. When you get back you rush in, walking straight past Dean and into the bathroom locking the door. You brush your teeth and then strip before sitting on the floor in the shower and bawling your eyes out for what feels like hours. 

You’re not sure what Sam told Dean to stop him from barging in and holding you, but part of you is grateful. Part of you knows you’re deliberately pushing him away out of guilt. But part of you wants nothing more than to confide in him and have him hold you tight while you cry and hold your hair back while you’re sick.

After a while, you pick yourself up, wash your face and drag yourself out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. When you come out, Dean’s sitting on one bed reading something on your laptop and Sam’s on the other mirroring his actions. You cautiously make your way over to the bed where Dean’s sitting slipping under the covers, not even bothering to remove the damp towel or get dressed. You sense Dean stiffen beside you, no doubt heavily debating the right move; whether to join you under the covers and hold you or give you space. In the end, giving you space wins out and you bury your head in the blanket as you silently cry yourself to sleep, still feeling sick to your stomach.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder

[watchtowerindistress]

we are not our demons (19/24) - bruce wayne x batmom

Gif source: ladybeniko

Author’s note: I still can't believe how long that last chapter was. Just imagine that was an extended edition lol.

Now finally the two chapters that I've been hyping up to for a long time. [See you at the bottom.]

Beta-read by Heidi.

Words: 3.5k

Warning: temporary poisoning (things are gonna get weird)

Please reblog/leave a comment.

Series Masterlist | Want to be tagged? | Read on AO3

Bitch, break her back, she protect and attack

Get that strap let them buckle, foot on neck, give no air

Whole world wanna be us

And my main bitch, she my day-one

- Best Friend by Saweetie (feat. Doja Cat) -

Was she really doing this?

She swiveled her head around to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Ellie had no idea how she’d be able to lie her way out of this one if she was detected. She actually made sure to wake up at the crack of dawn without encountering the few insomniacs of this house.

Holding onto the straps of her rucksack sitting over the material of her thick coat, her intense gaze met the bottom of Jason’s glass box. Before Ellie could further talk herself out of this one, her hand shakily reached for the handprint scanner at the side.

Relief made her let out a big exhale. Despite her worry if it didn’t work, the glass case opened in front of her eyes.

Thank God for Bruce’s insistence to grant her special privileges in this lair.

That flare of guilt rising in her chest was instantly squashed again when the cold metal of the crowbar touched the inside of her palm. At least there wasn’t any blood left on that piece of weaponry.

Maybe he was wrong to trust her.

Without wasting any more time, the crowbar was placed into her backpack. Trying to give herself a dose of courage, Ellie exhaled deeply.

Her choice was already made.

“Do you know how early it is, Rhodes?” The threatening quality in the woman’s voice should’ve scared her or at least sent a shiver down her spine, but honestly the events of last night hardened her. Turned her into marble.

Her gaze briefly met the display of her cell as she passed the bridge, leading her out of the city and towards the direction of the island.

“I think we both know how early it is. Besides, Ivy, I didn’t call to ask you about the time. We’ve got to meet. I’ve got a deal to make with you.”

“Another?” Ellie could hear the sultry smirk in her voice. It didn’t even bother her that Ivy was a flirty person, it was just who she was. Ellie expected it from her by now. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were turning desperate for my company. You do realize that you’d owe me after this again, right?”

“Not if we do this right, we’d be even.”

The ongoing pause hanging in the air kept the suspense between them before Ivy finally spoke again, “I’m fascinated. Go on.”

“I want you to help me to break Harley out of Arkham,” Ellie declared with a confident air that astonished even her.

Ivy’s slow and rumbling laughter filled the car and forced Ellie to narrow her eyes in speculation. Not knowing if she should label the plant lady’s reaction as cynical or earnest. “I like the way you think, little one,” she assured her with a wondrous tone of voice.

Before Ellie could even utter anything more, the line went dead with a beeping sound. Her hands loosened on the steering wheel with an offhanded gesture of incredulity when she muttered, “Great,” under her breath.

It was time to have a little faith now.

As soon as she arrived in the parking lot of the asylum premises, Ellie took her laptop from her passenger’s side and booted it up. Hacking into the network took no more than a few minutes when she registered her arrival on the guest list.

But unlike the last time Ellie entered the asylum, now she had every intention of helping someone else in a selfless quest for once. Ensuring it was still there with the sideways tilt of her head, her rucksack was sitting in the middle of the backseat.

Ellie revealed a satisfied smirk on the corners of her lips as soon as she included her alias on the top of the roster. The vibrating noise emanating from her phone caught her attention before she swiped the display and discovered the new text message.

Ivy: Already inside. Waiting for that prison break of yours.

“Time to get to work,” Ellie whispered with high anticipation and with decisive motions tied her hair into a high bun. Not long after that, she stepped out of her car. She stashed her laptop bag under her arm and held her clutch in her other hand.

Her walk towards the entranceway proved to take a longer period than she would’ve liked, giving her far too long of a shot to mull over her thoughts. This facility harbored so many bad memories for her, and she doubted she was the only one. This mental institution used to have a good reputation for actually helping their patients before it became an institute of the state. How their clients were dependent on the benevolence of its caring donors.

Ellie’s thumbs pressed against the integrated keypad on her phone display until her message came through.

Ellie: On my way. Sit tight, plant lady.

Ivy: Pffff

She stashed her device in the back pocket of her jeans and found the confident step in her walk when she needed the grounding tactile sensation of the coarse strap underneath her left palm. The pad of her index finger pressed once on the button by the door to indicate her presence before she was swiftly invited inside with a buzz.

As soon as Ellie was inside, she did a sloppy salute meant for the security guard sitting behind the metal scanner. Her back was turned to the camera as long as she couldn’t keep her program running in the lobby of the asylum.

“G’day, how’s it going?” Placing the laptop bag, her small clutch with essentials such as lip salve or soap and phone into the plastic container (like she was used to this process). Ellie watched it slide under the machine from the other end.

The blank expression on the man’s face shifted into neutral sympathy before he replied with a shrug, “What can I say? A lot of crazy in here and a lot of crazy just waiting outside.”

Ellie’s lips twitched in agreement when she nodded. The staff sitting right next to him barely lifted his head when he asked, “Name?”

“Albright, Vanessa,” Ellie curtly answered and waited a few seconds until his eyes met hers in recognition.

“Welcome back, Dr. Albright.”

“Thanks.”

“Who do you want to meet today?”

The basket slid towards Ellie with calm motions, giving her the opportunity to hang the strap over her shoulder and hide her phone inside the clutch for later.

Ellie’s eyebrows rose to her forehead when she tried to give off an air of professionalism, letting her soft waves fall into her face with the tilt of her head. “Quinzel,” she said as a statement.

The security guard frowned with bewilderment. “Huh, this one doesn’t really get visitors.”

Smiling demurely to herself, the woman reminded herself to breathe more calmly. She brushed her fingers against the edges of her frames, craving something to do with her hands. “That’s okay. She could use some company.”

“How long do you intend to stay for?”

The guard was creating a key card for her to use when Ellie shrugged. “About thirty minutes. Just an introductory session, nothing more. I requested a separate room for that.”

The man took another brief glance down at his electronic files and nodded in agreement. “Yes, no problem, Dr. Albright. Please take a seat in the waiting area at the end of the corridor and expect an employee to lead you in the direction.”

Nodding in agreement, Ellie replied, “Much appreciated, Sir,” before she meandered her way through the hall and sat on one of the plastic chairs around the corner.

Pretending to use her phone out of boredom, she started the program which would ensure her anonymity. It might have been still in a beta phase, but it was still enough to get her through this building. No one would be able to run the facial recognition software on a surveillance video that flickered extensively.

After a glance at her surroundings and ensuring that—yep—Arkham Asylum was known for its run-down ambience, Ellie was convinced enough that security would blame their retrograde technology for the unfortunate devices they had to deal with.

Truly a pity that they were state-funded.

The woman barely needed to wait about seven minutes before a nurse specialist escorted her. Small talk was hard enough for Ellie in regular situations, so this time was extra tense. To continue playing the part to get to her goal.

“Everything alright so far? I heard something happened last night. Can’t be easy for the patients to have the Joker constantly disrupt their routine.”

The woman—whose name tag said ‘Thompkins’ - shook her head at the reminded crux the green-haired psychotic always put their facility in. “I swear that guy keeps on giving us a bad reputation. Lockdowns and power outages left and right, and only because of him. One day there’ll be a 24-hour feed just for a news program called Arkham Breaking News.”

Ellie’s eyebrows rose in morbid fascination as she pursed her lips. “Sounds pretty interesting actually.”

Ms. Thompkins sighed heavily inside the slow-moving elevator. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

Ellie’s eyes slid sideways towards her young features before they landed on her ID that was labeled ‘medical student’. “At the end of your degree course?”

The brown-haired woman nodded in accord, humming under her breath. “Doctorate in medicine.” The elevator dinged and indicated their arrival when the doors opened. “Here we are. Go in that direction.” Her hand waved straight ahead while the other held the doors open. “Can’t miss it. Just pick the room ‘457’. Quinzel will be led to you straight away.”

Ellie nodded her head in recognition. “Got it. Thanks. Good luck to your studies, Miss Thompkins.”

Thompkins tilted her head before offering a soft smile. “Call me Leigh. You’re pretty young for a doctor yourself.”

Ellie’s features turned into a blank slate when she retorted, “As I keep hearing. You must hear it a lot as well. Thanks for the tour.”

The heels of her autumn boots clanked beneath her when she swiftly turned around and walked in the direction she was led to. As soon as she was left to her own devices again, breathing came easily again, Ellie noticed with immense relief. The secluded room she found herself sitting in was painted in such a dull gray tone that Ellie felt bored and impatient to begin with.

Off to a great start.

Ellie’s phone was lying right in front of her when the knock against the door pulled her out of her musings. She put on an amicable smile on her face and stood up from her chair as soon as her target was escorted into the room.

The nurse briefly nodded his head in acknowledgment before uttering, “Doctor.” He pushed his patient further inside before turning towards the bleached blonde with the blue and pink tips. “Sit down, Quinn. And don’t be a troublemaker, you hear me?”

Harley lurched forward and sent the man a pointed smirk. “I don’t make promises, hot stuff.”

“Ring the bell when you’re done,” he said, facing Ellie again. He barely accepted her nod when he closed the door behind him.

Ellie casually waved her hand towards the seat opposite her. “You look pretty thin, Miss Quinzel. What do they feed you in here?”

Harley’s blue eyes twinkled with malice and stretched her arms over her head. “It’s Doctor actually. What can I say? Liquid diet gives me the right kick as it pushes its way down my throat.” The mental patient settled down on the seat opposite from Ellie. Her eyebrows raised and her eyes roamed over Ellie’s figure as the idea started to sound enticing to her. “You should try it sometime.” She paused deliberately before hissing dangerously, “Doctor Albright.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes at the woman’s high intellect. That wasn’t mentioned in her file, only that she seemed unpredictable. She should have noticed that nothing Harley Quinn did was by chance, and nothing escaped her watchful eye. Especially when her eyes swept over the key card in a fleeting second.

Her stringy-wavy hair fell like a waterfall over her right shoulder when she tilted her head. “I go by Quinn now.”

Ellie decided to lay most of her cards on the table when she exhaled a heavy sigh after dropping her glasses on the table in front of her. No more facades. “I’m not here to psychoanalyze you.” She was looking her straight in the eyes while tapping something on the display of her phone.

Blue eyes darkened before fascination led them to roam over her more carefully. “No, you aren’t.” She leaned forward on the table between them until the muscles in her upper arms pushing through her thin tank top were put on dominant display.

“You must have quite an enthrallment with me to visit me then. Or are you one of those groupies? A few months ago, there were quite a few who were lusting after Riddler, it was like watching Manson porn. Quite fascinating actually.”

Ellie’s eyebrow raised at the colorful image Harley painted in her head. “Sounds riveting.” Her mouth twisted into a tense grimace when her timbre turned into a dark whisper. “I’m here because of what your boyfriend did last night. I want the Joker. And you are going to deliver. Help me find him, and I’ll get you out of this place.”

Harley’s jaw tensed at the reminder. “Maybe I was wrong,” she whispered. “Perhaps you’re just desperate. Did that Robin kid mean something to you?”

Her body was half turned away when she reached behind her. “Today is not about me. It’s not even about you. But the people you’re associated with.” Ellie was facing forward again and placed a milky-white substance between them. She was waiting and patiently tapped her finger against her lips.

“I want you to drink that,” Ellie calmly ordered, like she had no issue putting her through immense pain to reach her goal.

Blinking slowly, Harley’s eyes caught the label on the liquid bottle. “That’s soap,” she needlessly mentioned.

Without pausing, Ellie answered, “I’m aware of that, Quinn. What’s one more bit of liquid diet for you?” Her fingers tapped against the surface, almost out of boredom.

Her hands stroked her legs before her head looked over her left, indicating the camera pointed towards them.

“No audio. That video has been put on a loop ever since you sat down. You will drink that,” Ellie whispered without emotion, like she was just stating facts to her. “As soon as you’re led back to your cell, you’ll vomit. Maybe even faint. They’ll send you to the hospital ward. Right where you meet Ivy.”

Like a switch had been flipped, Harley’s head jumped in the air. A slow and giant smile tugged on her lips. “Why didn’t you lead with that?” Her eyes didn’t shy away from her when she uncapped the liquid soap and poured it down her throat—and not even flinching—like she was just having some milkshake.

A gratified sigh exhaled from her lips and a light thump echoed on top of the surface as the empty bottle stood between them. “I feel like a little girl all over again.”

Tiredly, Ellie’s eyebrows lifted high. “Didn’t expect you to drink the whole thing, but same thing.”

Ellie’s eyes nervously watched the two women in the backseat of her car while they bickered about stuff she wished they wouldn’t talk about at this very moment.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Harley tucked a flaming red curl through her fingers. “But you came for me, Red.”

As adorable as that little display was, it was still too distracting. “Could we please get back to the task at hand?”

Silence ensued which gave her the impression that for now they’d behave. Something rustled behind her before arms nestled around the seat by her head. “What am I supposed to call you other than my hero?”

“That’s Rhodes,” Ivy contributed with a lascivious voice. Ellie’s flickered to her naked legs wrapped around the passenger seat. Thankfully her feet weren’t touching anything, or she’d seriously rethink this decision to take those two with her.

“You’ve kept things from me, Ivy.”

“And I want you to tell me which way to go,” Ellie reminded her.

“You’re no fun,” Harley grumbled quietly before turning serious again. “Funhouse. It’s in the North of the city.”

Her lips thinned at that description. “You mean that rundown, weird carnival?”

Her warm breath felt chilling against the shell of her ear when she trilled with a melodious voice, “Hope you’re not afraid of clowns. They can be quite vicious.”

Suspicion lit up in Ellie’s narrowed eyes at being so close to Harley. She slightly turned her head and briefly studied Ivy in the rear-view mirror. “How did you get this one out?”

The coiled veins around her jaw twisted with the curling smirk. Her green eyes turned to a darker moss with every seductive whisper. “I told you my plants have their ways.”

“Fine, keep your secrets.”

Harley’s eyes switched between them curiously during their interaction as both braided pigtails bobbed with her energetic movements. “Probably a good idea. We still have to keep our break-out strategies for future references, y’know?” she interjected with a high-pitched voice. Who knew that after sitting together ten minutes in a car, Ellie would be getting used to that idiosyncratic accent or voice?

“So, what’s the plan here, darling? I mean, you have one, right?” Ivy spoke slowly.

“Break the bones of everyone who stands in our way and send the Joker to Arkham where he belongs. And you two can ride off into the sunset,” Ellie answered blankly.

“Aww, we like that plan, don’t we, Red?” Harley’s fingers intertwined through Ivy’s. Her friend’s—girlfriend’s? — answer was to roll her eyes and face the outside world passing them by through the window, but still accepting her affection despite their tension hanging in the air.

“Don’t worry about Red.” Harley waved a hand in the air. “She’s still mad at me for having bad taste in men.”

Ivy’s reply was to scoff contemptuously. “I’m not talking to you. I’m only here because I uphold my deal with Rhodes. I couldn’t care less what happens to you.”

Harley laughed uproariously, like it was the most ridiculous thing she ever heard come out of her friend’s mouth. Her lips were only a breath away from her neck when she whispered, “Liar.”

Harley faced forward again, excitedly clapping her hands. “Can we go shopping before we’re wreaking havoc?”

Ellie kept quiet, instead focusing on something else than just Quinn’s constant mood swings.

“I mean, Ivy always looks perfect, but damn it, I want to look spectacular when I kick Joker’s ass,” Harley exclaimed rather fiercely.

Mild stupor gleamed in her brown eyes at the adamant sentiment. Before long she slowed the car next to the curb. “Fine,” she sighed. “But only one of you gets out. And with one I mean Ivy.” Ellie’s meaningful gaze met Ivy’s when she looked over her shoulder at her two companions. “Stay under the radar. I have no interest in anyone getting locked into a jail cell, with us so close to the finishing line.”

Ivy chose this moment to speak up before Harley could feel insulted. Her trademark smirk was on full force. “I knew I liked you for a reason. I’ll make it quick. Don’t worry about it.” With a placating smile and a swagger to her walk, she stepped outside.

“You know…” Harley began, pushing her head right between the front seats until her face was almost prodding the side of hers. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t trust me.”

Being stuck in a car with Harley Quinn started to sound like one of her worst decisions ever made.

Ellie gazed at their surroundings through her side window. She wanted to get out of here as fast as possible before people discovered their selfless nature and called the police on witnessing a certain Quinn running rampant.

“I don’t. We don’t have to trust each other. In the end, we’re a means to an end to each other, and I’m fine with that.”

Ellie could feel her silent and probing gaze on her before Harley tilted her head in enthrallment. “Your pragmatism truly reminds me of Ivy, you know?”

A green shadow crossed her peripheral vision when Ivy’s body inched closer. “Speak of the botanist,” Ellie muttered quietly.

She turned the key in her ignition when the back door was wrenched open, and a plastic bag was thrown in Harley’s lap. The door slammed shut again.

“You take care of me so well, Red!”

“Finally, we can get things done,” Ellie mumbled.

A/N: Yep, that was Thompkins. Don't know if I'm gonna feature her for future projects though. Didn't want to copy the character from Gotham, so I re-named her Leigh. 

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath​ @ravenmoore14​ @alwayshave-faith​ @ikranfuad​ @daydreaming-gemini​ @bluegalaxyprime​ @liadamerondjarin​ @steph21369 @andrewswifes-blog​  @yanna-banana​  @blackmagicwoman

[ravenpureforever]

I posted 491 times in 2022

That's 447 more posts than 2021!

30 posts created (6%)

461 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@snake-and-mouse

@iffervescent

@rythyme

@yeetlegay

@ravenpureforever

I tagged 467 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#kinnporsche - 256 posts

#the eclipse - 112 posts

#kimchay - 60 posts

#kinnporsche the series - 44 posts

#vegaspete - 34 posts

#porsche my beloved - 34 posts

#love in the air - 28 posts

#star wars - 24 posts

#akkayan - 17 posts

#i’m obsessed - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#lowkey laughing how they all apparently went ‘we can fix you i can make it better’ to kinnporsche and then created a cinematic masterpiece

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Porsche: Being married to a Theerapanyakul is great!

Porchay: So great!

Pete: The best!

Porsche: But they can be a…a tad judgmental

Porchay: Almost punitive

Pete: They are monsters

269 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

#4

Akk: I am responsible for the curse!

Ayan: I am Teacher Dika’s nephew and you drove him to suicide!

Teacher Chadok: I was in love with your uncle and we were engaged and I watched him commit suicide in front of me!

Thua: I have been manipulating everything from behind the scenes in a desperate bid to expose the truth so all this can finally end!

Kan and Wat:

269 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

#3

So I know we all joke about Porchay living his best Wattpad life, myself included, but I think we all kind of ignore how Kim just never dissuaded him from that notion and how we find that genre dissonance between Porsche & Kim’s view (and often our audience view) of Chay and how he actually acts, and we’re all sleeping on the mini character arc he’s gotten over the course of the series.

Porsche and Kim don’t want Chay to get caught up in the mafia world, and they both seem to view him in the same lense: he’s innoncent, sweet, incorruptible.

But Chay has fucking balls man, and he’s a lot more resilient than people give him credit for. He also ignores red flags like he’s color blind. We don’t get to see much of him, but the glimpses we do get show there is so much more beneath the surface.

First:

Man grew up with Porsche & a dead beat Uncle, you telling me he didn’t see some shit growing up? No matter how well Porsche protected him, Chay is the one dressing his wounds when he comes back from fighting, Chay still hears the loan sharks coming for his Uncle, he’s growing up watching his older brother as really the only source of income for his household. And he can’t do anything about it. Watching episode 1, when Chay asks Porsche to let him get a job and help out, it feels like they’ve had this conversation before, it feels resigned, it feels like a final quiet plea of “we’ve talked about this before, but please, please, please just consider it.” But Porsche says no, I’m going to take care of it and I can’t help but think of the impact that has, of watching the person he loves most get beat down again and again and not being able to do anything about it. I feel like Chay probably grew up being the peacekeeper, the one trying to keep the waters calm. Its clear he knows he’s his brother’s world, that his brother has done so much to keep him sheltered and happy, and I can think of Porsche teaching Chay manners, teaching him ideals of being kind to others and Chay just internalizing it and deciding “ah yes, so this is my role in the family, this is how I can help my brother.” Chay probably felt a lot of pressure, no matter how unintentionally and how unconditionally Porsche loves him, to be a reason why his brother is doing all of this, he’s probably hyper aware of how he’s Porsche’s motivation, that everything his brother does is for him. That does things to your self-worth, to how you view yourself. I get the feeling hasn’t had any agency over his own life before, he’s always been the princess locked in the tower, aware of the war but not allowed to participate. His happily ever has been chosen and now he just has to see it through.

Then literally overnight, he wakes up and his Uncle has vanished, and his brother has left with just a fairly suspicious note about pursuing his dream that’ll completely be able to fully support Chay. His entire way of living has transformed, and now he’s completely alone. He went from princess locked in a tower as a war rages on to a Queen of a decimated kingdom. He can not grieve, he can only have faith and move forward.

This is also how I realized Chay has practically been designed to ignore all red flags and interpret them as something else.

Enter Kim, stage right. Enter Chay’s wattpad fantasy come to life, also stage right.

When Chay meets Kim, he is someone who has literally nothing to lose throwing himself out there. My boy literally just recites an encyclopedia knowledge of “Wik, sir, you are my hyper fixation” all in the hopes of getting that T-shirt. And it works! His idol signs his T-shirt, he gets to talk to his idol, he has been rewarded for putting himself out there!

So go big or go home right? He might as well try asking for a tutor when asked if there’s anything he wants. And he’s shot down. No big deal, he moves on and has merch thats going to be the envy of the Wik fandom.

But then his idol calls him, and says he’ll tutor him. Wik remembered him, remembered his request, and then proceeded to hunt down a way to get Chay’s phone number and call him personally in order to tell him he’s decided to he’s going to help him get into the his dream department that he himself is apart of.

Its easy to view Chay from Kim’s perspective, as an excitable fanboy with a crush, but we forget how Kim looks from Chay’s perspective. So lets look on how everything seems from Chay’s perspective.

Chay put himself out there, made a decision solely for himself and what he wants and now his idol wants to tutor him. He’s been actively rewarded twice now, by the same person, for asserting what he wants and trying to get it. He’s gotten his cake and is eating it too. He has a celebrity crush like most people get, only his celebrity crush is now making the effort to genuinely get to know him.

Wik tells Chay his name is Kim, he’s being open and vulnerable to Chay, and he’s trusting him with his identity. Kim asks about his brother, even though Chay didn’t tell him, red flag to any normal person citing he saw Chay’s screensaver and made an assumption. Kim is taking an interest in his life, he notices little details about him, and is asking to here more about the coolest person in the world, his brother and even noticed how much Chay loves Porsche that he wants Chay to write a song about it! He even trusts Chay enough to ask for his phone when Kim’s phone has died, even though that’ll mean there’s important numbers in Chay’s call history, and he trusts that Chay won’t take advantage of them!

And maybe Chay starts to fall a bit in love with Kim. Not Wik, but Kim, who’s a little bit insecure, a little bit awkward, but is making all this effort for Chay.

For Chay, it isn’t anything manipulative or suspicious, he’s becoming friends Kim, they’re sharing information about themselves, they’re bonding now, and he’s been shown that if he pushes, Kim will stay. Chay is all alone now, he has to take care of himself, but if he makes an effort and keeps putting himself out there, if he makes his wants known, Kim comes to him. Kim trusts him, and as long as Chay takes the initiative, he also makes the effort to bond with Chay.

Then Porsche comes back! Chay isn’t alone anymore, and they’re happy and safe and Porsche isn’t getting beat up! And then Porsche once again immediately leaves without a word and few days later you get the first call you’ve gotten from him since he left the first time and now he’s back at work and doesn’t know when he’ll be back again. He’s all alone, and his brother has seem to get a new life that once again Chay’s not allowed to be apart of.

But then Kim shows up at his house! And Chay immediately throws his brother under the bus in a desperate bid to keep Kim’s good opinion of him, once again, gotta admire the sheer balls and audacity of that move. Then Kim gifts him one of his guitars! Porsche do you understand how easily your brother could be taken advantage of do you? Sure he almost gets the heart attack of Kim discovering his shrine, but what teenager doesn’t have posters on the wall of his favorite singer? Maybe it’s weird that he wants Chay to go get the food for them both, but he could have an important phone call to make, he could be nervous going out in public where people could recognize him! Then when he gets back Kim asks him about his love life! Kim ruffles his hair! Kim tells him to write a love song!

Kim is checking off all the boxes of my crush likes me back.

So when Kim ghosts him a little, Chay makes the obvious conclusion. Show up at his house and sing him the love song he wrote! He’s been shown time, and time again that if he reaches out to Kim, Kim will eventually grab his hand. Kim has shown to be awkward and a little of unsure of himself around Chay, but relaxes when Chay takes the initiative. So Chay does what’s always worked. With literally no fear or anxiety whatsoever.

And with episode 13, we see how close they were getting. We see how they went out to places together, romantically or platonically, and they took pictures together! They were friends, they were close, they had a level of trust and bonding and vulnerability for Chay to take photos with Kim and leave them around his house for Kim to find!

So Chay once again has nothing left to lose, and shoots his final shot and confesses to Kim. And Kim kisses him! They hug! Kim may or may not have come home with him that night but at some point in they’re relationship post confession, they fall asleep cuddling on the couch.

And Chay and Porsche are very similar. They fall in love quickly, they become very devoted and loyal to that love, and they are honest about it. Chay and Porsche are both the first ones to say I love you, but while Porsche doesn’t ask for a reply, Chay does. Because Kim has shown time and time again that Chay needs to take the initiative. So he asks Kim: I love you, do you love me?

But he stops at that and lets Kim take his time. Because that’s the song and dance their courtship has been taking, Chay flirts, Chay pushes forward and then Kim comes to meet him the rest of the way.

Chay is living in a Wattpad fantasy: he meets his idol crush, his idol crush becomes fascinated with him, he sees the real human behind his idol crush’s persona and falls in love with the awkward, sweet person underneath, he confesses his love and the feeling is mutual! And all of this seems to be fate, like this perfect love story and the happy ending he actually wants. He’s practically gotten into his dream department with the boy of his dreams who loves him back.

He’s confirming it is all real, and letting Kim know that it’s all real on his end.

And then he gets fucking kidnapped. And then he gets indisputable proof that his brother has been lying to him this entire time, and he was kidnapped because of that secret life his brother was lying about it.

The ultimatum may seem harsh, but it makes sense when you see it from Chay’s perspective. He probably feels essentially abandoned by his brother for the past two months, and he’s understandably pissed about everything thats happened in the last 48 hours or so. His brother can be part of his life and they can go back to the way things were, but Chay can’t be a part of his life if his brother is in the mafia, and its true. Porsche has spent all this time telling Chay he wants him to get into a good school and get a good job and be surrounded by good people with a good social life. You can’t have that in the mafia, and Chay knows that. So from Chay’s perspective, his brother has basically just been a complete hypocrite to everything his brother taught him.

And while Porsche has been shown the type of person to be willing to throw away his morals and beliefs when it comes to the people he loves, Chay isn’t. His entire life has been surrounded on those ideals of being a good, kind person who lives a good life. And he’s understandably terrified of the thought of losing his brother and truly being on his own. He’s basically lost his only emotional support system for two months, and if his brother dies, he loses him for good.

So Chay says him or me, because in his mind either way he could lose his brother, but this is Chay making his own decision, this is Chay fighting back and reminding Porsche that see you hurt makes me hurt too. This ultimatum reminds Porsche that his actions have conquenses on Chay too, and it shows how Chay has grown up in his absence. Chay in episode one was willing to just bow his head and listen to what his brother, but Chay in episode 10 is willing to speak out, he’s no longer willing to be simply passive in his brother’s plans for him.

See the full post

310 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

#2

From what I’ve seen in this last episode, we can all agree that Kim is like a feral cat yowling for Chay’s attention but then immediately hiding when Chay comes to check out what that noise is

704 notes - Posted July 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I think the best part of KinnPorsche, and it really comes to mind with this latest episode, is that every character thinks they’re in a different genre and it’s the funniest thing watching it clash with the reality.

Kinn is just living his best rom-com life where he falls for his sassy but kind assistant bodyguard that he can no longer live with out.

Porsche is basically a YA novel where he falls for his sexy morally ambiguous love interest who’s secretly sweet but *gasp* his past has come to haunt him!

Pete thinks he’s in a dark psychological thriller where he must battle his inner demons and brooding but hot captor to maintain his humanity but it threatens to over take him at any moment as he is torn between his newly found dark desires and the reputation he prides himself on.

Vegas acts like he’s in gothic bodice ripper novel where his entire world becomes the kind, empathic heroine Pete and he will do anything to keep him to himself and Pete is going to help him overcome the truama of his past with his love.

Kim sees himself in this brooding noir style detective film where he must uncover the dark past of his family but oh no he finds himself falling for the pure and sweet ingénue Chay and must wrestle with the dangerous life he leads and the mission he’s devoted himself to and the love of his life

Porchay thought he’s living his Wattpad dream life where he meets his idol and gains his respect as he tutors him and they slowly develop a sweet friendship that turns into a heartfelt romance

They really demonstrate how all the characters are protagonists of their own story, and that’s how they make their decisions, based on the assumptions on the world around them. They think they know the story their in, and that’s the role they have taken, but the tragedy and the complications of these relationships is that they aren’t in a single genre story. They’re people, achingly human people, interacting with other complex people and what is salvation for one is a damnation for the other.

They aren’t in any specific genre (you know, beyond on the whole mafia thing) and that’s where the miscommunication happens, that’s how the drama unfolds, that’s how all these different romances keep missing each other, because they’re all operating on different wavelengths based on the story they think *THEY’RE* in and not stopping to really consider the other perspective.

It’s absolutely hilarious, it’s terribly tragic, it’s utterly beautiful and performed so well by the writers and the actors.

3,289 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

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[ja3hwa]

Doomed | Hongjoong

Word count: 358

Genre: Romance, Angst

Type: Hongjoong x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Pinning, Terrible families, mentions of blood, heartache, obsessive love. Kissing, neck kisses.

Synopsis: Your lives were completely different. Your families hated one another But you two couldn't stay away from each other, no matter how hard you tried.

Prompt: "I can't stay away from you..."

Trope: Forbidden Love

Romantic Tropes Mini-Series -> Other Members <-

Your love was doomed from the start. Meeting him under the blanket of night. You both knew it was forbidden. Longing touches, slight glances, hidden messages. Anything to give one another the affection you both so dearly craved. if your coven found out you would be stripped from your community, banished and left alone. If his parents—the two pure vampires that turned him—found out, he would be dead within the second the words left anyone’s lips. It was hopeless.

But yet you ran, past the sleeping town, into the dark forest. The border of the town where the witches don’t dare to cross. Yet you ran headfirst, running to the man you swore you wouldn’t fall for. The creature that was Undead and cold. The man who brought you nothing but happiness, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

He ran, from his life, from his family, from his duty to his clan. His plan was simple, get you, pack up and run. Far away where no one could hurt either of you. He ran, just like you. To the place where you first meet. To the place where you both knew, you would never be able to forget one another.

He spotted you first, immediately smelling your scent. Weaving through the trees, you finally come in contact, bracing him with open arms. Tears streaming down your face, you bury your face into his chest. Holding him tight you fear if you let go he would disappear. He pulls your face up, smashing your lips to his in desperation.

“I can’t stay away from you.” He gasps through the kiss, trailing it down to your neck, trying to kiss every part of your skin he could reach. Your fingers dove into the ends of his hair, tugging tightly. Your heart was breaking, you lost your coven, your life, everything. But your heart was so full, being with him made you realize that family isn’t always your bloodline.

“I love you. And I’m never letting you go, not now, not ever,” He spoke, your foreheads leaning against one another. Time was slowing, your life was changed forever. And all you could do was smile, knowing his word was the only thing you needed.

-

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Keep the Faith - Epilogue

Series Masterlist

A/N: The last installment of this Series:( I’m gonna miss it to be honest. And I might have gotten a bit emotional during writing... Please let me know what you think of this series! That would mean the world to me <3

Enjoy reading!

word count: 1.509

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

Equipped with two plates of food Y/N slowly approached Loki who sat at the entrance of the cave, his eyes focused on the smudgy scribbles in Y/N's notebook.

"Are you satisfied now?" Y/N joked as they sat beside him and passed him one of the plates.

“Almost,” he nodded thoughtfully as he put the notebook aside to take the plate, “I need you to know something important though. What you wrote about the first day when Glaive killed your Variant… I don’t think you were oversensitive," Loki's gaze locked with Y/N's, "I know I act like I’m not bothered by what is happening around us, but to be honest, I still haven’t figured out how all of this can even be true. I just went with it so it wouldn't drive me crazy down here. All these people, some of them looking like a reflection of myself, dying because of the hands of another Loki... it's so surreal. Like a sick play of the universe that wants to teach me a lesson that I just can't grasp."

Loki had finished his meal a while ago, his arms pulling his knees up to his chest. His brow was furrowed in thought as his teeth were chewing on the insides of his cheeks.

Y/N didn't know how to answer so they simply nodded. Loki had never been this voluntarily open and vulnerable. The last days surely had taken a toll on him.

They began eating in silence, their eyes avoiding each other, instead watching the bleak landscape.

"I thought it was you in the pond, you know?” Loki spoke up again, his gaze firmly directed into the distance, “I think that was the day I gave up. That’s why I didn’t mention the stab wound. Why would I? No one would read it anyway. So I left because I couldn’t stay there anymore. I wasn't able to clean up the mess in the bunker by myself anyway. You wouldn't come back so I had nothing that held me there… so I just got up and left. I didn’t even know if I could make it to the mountains but to be honest, I didn’t really care either.”

“That’s why you didn’t heal yourself?” Y/N whispered shocked in realisation.

"And when I arrived in the bunker and you weren’t there… I don’t think my heart had ever felt that heavy in my life. I fought against this horrendous smell and combed through the bodies as I tried to find your face. But you weren’t there. I was about to collapse… but luckily I dragged myself to my room where I finally found your notes.

“What’s the point of living if you die alone in the end anyway?” he shrugged sorrowfully and his gaze fell to his feet, “I was surprised when I arrived here alive. But that’s the curse of us Lokis. We do not die when we desperately want to, no instead we persevere no matter what.” Y/N reached out for Loki’s hand, squeezing it caring.

“I thought you were dead as well.” Y/N swallowed hard, “When the third day had passed I felt this overwhelming guilt. I felt so guilty for failing you, for leaving you alone with the other buffoons, for getting caught and especially for not keeping my promise to return in time.” Y/N chocked out, their throat closing up as they tried to fight against the emotions they had repressed to be able to function. Everything that had happened the last two weeks was bubbling up at the same time now.

I don’t think I could've forgiven myself if I really had arrived too late." Y/N sobbed, hot tears finally overcoming their restraints.

“I see, we two are fools of our own hearts.” Loki chuckled bitterly as his thumb softly stroked over the back of Y/N’s hand that he was still holding.

“And I wouldn't want it any other way.” Y/N wiped away the stray tears with their sleeve, retracting their hand from Loki’s in the process, “Even if it hurts sometimes, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Loki gave them a tired smile as their words resounded in his head. All he wanted was for Y/N to be safe. He hated to see them this heartbroken and spent. But at the same time, he didn’t know how to comfort them. How was he supposed to know if he couldn’t even comfort himself?

“How did you even manage to escape from there? What did you do to the TemPad?” he tried to stir the conversation in another direction.

“A kill switch.” Y/N sniffled, “When I presented it to Red Skull I turned it on so it would explode at the next use.”

“Very clever.” Loki grinned proud at them, “But didn’t you get knocked out as well?”

“I did but only for a short time. The guards that were supposed to bring me to my cell and I were already far enough away from the explosion centre. To be honest… I got quite lucky that some of the debris didn’t hit me… I can’t say the same about my guards though. When I woke up I had a massive headache and a ringing in my ear which didn’t go away until I got half of the way up to the mountains over and done with.”

“And how did you retrieve the TemPad?” Loki tilted his head in interest.

“I made my way through and over the ruins into the throne room where I found it scattered around. It must’ve flown out of Red Skulls' hand when it went off. So I gathered some more parts that looked like they belonged to it and rummaged a bit through Red Skulls storage rooms before I fled.” Y/N recounted.

“And Red Skull?” the question had occupied Loki’s head since Y/N had mentioned their captivity in his hands.

“I have no idea. I didn’t find a trace of him in the chaos. The explosion had attracted the Allioth’s attention and he was charging for the base. So a bunch of his pack, that had survived, made the sensible decision to run away. So Red Skull might have been smashed by the rubble or he could have run away as well.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t have to deal with him any time soon again.” Loki sighed a bit more at ease now. Even if Red Skull had survived, it was unlikely that he would come for them. He had no protection and probably no henchman who would make their hands dirty for him. For now, Y/N and Loki were relatively safe.

“Exactly. We have much more important things to think about.” Y/N chimed in cheery, pulling Loki out of his thoughts.

“Like?” Loki asked intrigued.

“For example, what’s the first thing you want to do when we can escape this hell hole?” they smiled at him. He thought for a while before he answered.

“I have to visit my mother.” he finally revealed without any more reasoning, “What about you?”

“I want to watch how the sun rises over the horizon until the first beams lay onto my skin. When this infinite darkness has finally come to an end, then and only then, I will be sure that we really are still alive and have gotten out of this nightmare.” Loki smiled at them almost content, but a twinge in his heart overshadowed this feeling with gloom. Once they would escape from the Void, would there still be an us?

“Would you watch it with me?” Y/N turned to look at him. Loki’s eyes lit up at their question and a smile spread over his lips as he couldn’t hold his head back from nodding.

“Only if you come with me to Asgard,” he replied cheekily.

“How can I say no to that?” Y/N beamed at him, “I just hope I will be able to fix the TemPad.”

Loki scooched closer to them, this time taking a hold of their hand.

“We’ll find a way, don’t worry.” his gaze was reassuring, “And even if not, I don’t mind being stuck here, as long the company is right... I could live like that.”

Y/N bit their lip, trying to prevent new tears to spill from their eyes. But this time, not tears out of agony but gratitude for their friend. Loki put his arm around their shoulder, pulling them close to his side. Y/N didn’t struggle against the unfamiliar closeness they were sharing. Instead, they embraced it, resting their head on Loki’s shoulder.

Far in the distance, the Allioth was feasting on a new appeared city, the purple clouds soon enclosing a whole perimeter of the valley. Loki sighed deeply as they both watched over the wasteland.

“What’s on your mind?” Y/N asked timidly.

“I wish that somewhere out there, in this vast multiverse of myriads of timelines is at least one where we met under different circumstances... the right circumstances.” Y/N slung their arms around Loki, hugging him tightly against themselves.

“As far as I care, we already did.”

A/N: This is it... at least for now:)

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Nemesis: Retribution (4)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOUR (18+ ONLY. I WILL BLOCK YOU), voyeurism, exhibitionism, authority kink, praise kink, spanking, slight dom themes, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, mentions of character death, fluff if you squint, 

A/N: Slowing it down just a bit to move plot along. Freaking out on the reblogs and comments are encouraged and will be rewarded with cookies. Seriously though, I love hearing what you guys think and use some of it to make the next chapters better. I adore you all! Have at it!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:4 Apple Crumble

Steve Rogers had kindly offered for you and your team to stay at the Compound. For however long this mission would take, you were all going to start running straight at it early tomorrow. In terms of the mission, he was relieved to have your help. The sooner the serum was out of circulation the better and they truthfully did need your help. This underground world was more your scene now and you could better navigate it.

On a personal level, he was glad that you were sticking around even if it was on a contract. He would take whatever opportunity he can and make the best of it. That's how he's always been and he wasn't going to change that now.

He told himself that it was because he was the Captain that he was at your door this late after you all had agreed to part for the night. It was out of consideration that he carried with him some of his own clothes to offer you in case you needed something to change into. It was out of a need to clear the tension with you now that you were going to work as a team again that he was knocking on your door.

That was all.

You opened the door a moment later wrapped only in a short towel and with your hair still dripping wet from the shower. The smile that rose on your face was sly as you leaned on the doorframe with your arms crossed and your hip cocked to one side. He swallowed.

Maybe that wasn't all.

"What can I do for you, Cap?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was far too distracted by the little droplet that rolled down from your temple to the valley of your breasts. He shook his head and cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus only on your eyes and not the inappropriate answers that sprung to mind at your question.

"I brought you a change of clothes in case you need it," he managed to say. "And I wanted to talk to you if you're not too tired."

You opened the door wider and took the clothes from him without a word, turning into the room toward the bathroom. You casually dropped your towel to the floor and Steve choked at the sight of your bare back, a small set of black panties the only stitch you wore. The breath in his chest released only when you disappeared into the bathroom, the door cracked open offering him enticing glimpses as you moved around.

Steve hurriedly closed the door behind him and as he made his way further in, he caught sight of an open go bag beside your bed with clothes clearly visible. There was also a shirt and sweats beside it, the design he knew belonged to Pietro. He felt a little embarrassed. Of course Pietro would have already beaten him to it and that your team always came prepared. Still there was a satisfaction that bloomed in him when you stepped out clad in his shirt, the hem barely reaching mid thigh and bare feet soundlessly crossing the carpeted floor until you came to sit with him on the sofa. You tucked your legs under you and rested your head on your hand over the back of the seat.

"Gotta say I like this look, Steve," you grinned at him.

He chuckled, self-consciously rubbing at his beard and pulling at the hair at the back of his collar. The light dusting of red on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"What? You don't like the all American apple pie look?"

You hummed and took a leisurely look at him from head to toe. Rugged and imposing as he appeared, the heat on his face intensified at your obvious appreciation and the way you swiped your tongue along your bottom lip. You were biting your lip when your eyes met his again, trying to stop yourself from laughing at how flustered he was getting and how much you were enjoying it. You've always found Steve handsome and he made apple pie look damn good, but this look on him was just so dangerously delicious.

You had a type.

"I'm more of an apple crumble kind of girl. I like the texture better," you winked. "And I don't mind a little beard burn."

"Will your team mind that I'm talking to you without one of them here?"

You raised an eyebrow and held his unsteady gaze, clearly understanding he meant more than just your professional relationship with the three men.

"You're curious."

"It's none of my business. That's not what I came to talk to you about," he stammered, unaccustomed to how forward you were.

"What did you want to talk about then?"

"I wanted to apologize properly and thank you for agreeing to help."

You groaned and threw your whole body back on the seat, causing Steve's shirt to ride up just shy of completely flashing him. You sat back up and pinched the bridge of your nose, letting out a long breath. It was only the fact that it was Steve that you were even entertaining this conversation.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Steve," you firmly dismissed.

"I do, Nem. We all do."

"Fine. List down what you're sorry about. Let's go through it one by one or we can draw lots to make it interesting."

"Nem," he said, low and clear with warning yet imploring you to listen. "Can you take this seriously for one second?"

The ever present smirk on your face dropped as you sighed heavily and ran a hand through your hair. For the first time since he's seen you, your expression softened a fraction and a shadow of the person he used to know passed across your features.

"Listen to me, Steve. I don't blame any of you. I'm not angry at any of you. I honestly have no room for more anger even if I wanted to be."

In the beginning you were. There were days while you were getting tortured that you hated them while you pleaded to the heavens for them to rescue you. It had taken a decade and three incredible men for that inferno of fury to turn into a manageable bitterness.

"Do you know how tiring it is to be so fucking angry all the time?" you chuckled darkly. "It took a while, but I learned to prioritize what I choose to be angry about."

"Salvacion," he muttered and you nodded, your eyes staring blankly forward.

"I've carried that name for a decade, Steve. That asshole has to die by my hands."

Steve saw now how selfish he was for forcing the conversation with the purpose of earning your forgiveness. It was for easing his own guilt that he was doing it when instead he should have just been thanking you for what you did and had to endure.

"Why didn't you ever come back?"

"I tried, Steve. When I was recovered enough I tried to go back. Did you know my sister had a girlfriend?"

He shook his head, throat suddenly closing at the sight of absolute misery in your eyes. He regretted starting this conversation even more.

"Jill. She was amazing to Lily and she was like a sister to me too," you smiled a little, not in your usual sarcastic way but with a hint of gentle fondness before your expression hardened once more.

"I saw her and I just couldn't bring myself to face her. I'm the reason the love of her life is dead. I couldn't, Steve"

It started off with the fear that they might have killed Jill too. You told yourself you had to know, but truthfully you were trying desperately to find a connection to Lily. You found her visiting the graveyard, laying flowers on two stones and spending the afternoon sitting on the ground tearfully talking to the dead. The shame burned through you and from then on you made it your sole purpose to destroy the man who took Lily from you both. Until then you had no right to face her. You had no right to return to the life you once knew.

Steve noticed that you weren't crying although the look in your eyes was swimming with grief. He expected you to cry, but somehow seeing you with dry eyes only made you look more in pain. You only clenched your fists, your shoulders tense and your jaw stiff. Steve decided he would tell the others instead of having you go through this conversation again.

He would do that for you.

You woke up surprisingly refreshed the following morning, strangely lighter than you have felt in the past decade. You didn't expect for that talk with Steve to have such an impact on you. You smiled ruefully, remembering your many counseling sessions with Curtis before and that maybe you were finally seeing his point.

FRIDAY had directed you to the larger conference room for today's briefing session with the rest of the team. You were wearing another one of Steve's shirts paired with your usual cargo pants, a fact that didn't go unnoticed judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smiles. Billy in particular was leaning in to whisper to Matt what was going on.

"You don't have to tell me. I can smell it," Matt chuckles, crinkles visible at the edges of his dark sunglasses. "His cologne is quite distinct."

You smacked Billy on the arm, but laughed with them as well before throwing a wink at Steve who proceeded to blush a deep red. As you took your seat, a cup of coffee suddenly materialized in front of you accompanied by Pietro's ever bright smile. You smiled gratefully and took a sip, eyes slightly rounding in surprise at the taste.

"You remembered how I took my coffee."

"I've forgotten nothing about you, little star."

You haven't taken your coffee that way in so long. It's been just strong plain black coffee lately, the lack of sugar and cream where you lived with the boys being a factor. It had seemed pointless to eat something sweet when there was a permanent sour taste in your mouth from life. Now though you couldn't seem to help taking one sip after another, licking your lips before going in for more.

Right now this tasted right.

You didn't notice that Billy was smiling adoringly at you and sharing a look of approval with Frank as the briefing began, happy that someone aside from him was spoiling you. You certainly didn't know that Matt was smirking because he heard your heart literally skip a beat at the sweet gesture.

It took hours for the meeting to wrap up, but there was still more to do before you could actually take action. A number of the Avengers were sent out to gather more intel while the rest would stay to make further preparations.

"I only really need to talk to Frank a bit more," Steve said as he approached your group. "Why don't we have Pietro show you guys around the Compound? There are some improvements I think you'll find interesting."

Your tour guide for the afternoon appeared beside you, taking your hand in his and bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement. He was just too cute that you couldn't help but let out a small smile. The effect he had on you remained it seems.

"A tour would be really helpful for me," Matt easily agreed.

"And I go wherever the pretty girl goes," Billy added, slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"Great. Surrender your weapons and you should be good to go," Steve asked with a pointed look at both you and Billy who groaned in answer.

Billy was ready with a string of complaints and counter arguments when the clang of metal on the glass conference table stunned him into silence. He watched in complete disbelief as you removed every gun and blade attached to your body, efficiently dismantling them and lining them up on the table.

"Is she?" Matt murmured, leaning closer to Billy.

"Yeah."

"All of them?"

"Yeah."

By the time you stepped back, there was practically a decent sized armory on the table. How and where you managed to fit all of it on your person was a mystery to them.

"You missed one," Billy said, snapping out of his daze.

He stepped in front of you and casually slipped his arm up the front of your shirt and under your sports bra. His fingers grazed unnecessarily close to your now hardened nipples and he simply winked when you raised an eyebrow at him. Billy pulled out two small throwing daggers soon after and placed them alongside your other weapons.

"Oh yeah. I keep forgetting about those," you chuckled.

"Do you always come armed to the teeth?" Bucky snapped, clearly bothered by the display.

"She doesn't want her team to carry extra ammo for her, Sergeant," Billy scowled at him, the obvious animosity surprising Bucky. When he turned back to Pietro, his expression was back to his usual playful one. "So how about that tour?"

Frank turned to Steve when you had exited the room. "You gotta teach me that trick, Cap."

"What trick?"

"First time in 10 years I've seen her take any kind of order without a knife fight first," he said, cracking a smile and shaking his head.

It turns out that coming back was doing some good for you and this made him more comfortable around the Avengers. He wasn't about to braid them friendship bracelets but he was less inclined to pop a cap in their ass. At least for the time being.

Walking around the Compound brought back some of that wonder you felt when you first stepped in, but it recalled everything you had lost. Sensing the sudden tension in you, Billy gripped you by the waist and pulled you into his side. He kissed your temple, a silent reminder of what you had gained.

Pietro had been an absolute sweetheart, specifically describing what was in the area for Matt's benefit and pointing out the changes to you. The training area was your last stop, the place you had spent the most time in during your short stint here. There were loud sounds coming from the area and walking in you saw fresh-faced recruits in paired off sparring sessions.

Your full attention was on Pietro as he happily listed off the new features and answered questions from Matt and Billy, the latter now in businessman mode as he thought of what he could implement for Anvil. You were having an unusually pleasant time until a familiar shrill voice demanded your attention.

"Well look what the street cat dragged in. Y/N?"

You knew that voice. A decade with torture and trauma included apparently couldn't change how much her voice grated at you. The cold smirk made a reappearance on your face as you slowly turned to face her, the three men with you were instantly alarmed at the change in your demeanor.

"Kim," you nodded.

"Thought you were dead."

"Thanks. Can't say I thought about you at all though."

"I see you're still pathetically clinging to Pietro."

"What can I say? He's really cute," you said with a wink at Pietro who seemed to enjoy the compliment.

She sneered at you, her irritation rising when you weren't backing down like you used to do. She couldn't quite put her finger on what had changed about you, but you seemed rougher around the edges and far too cocky for her liking. Luckily, she still remembered a sure-fire way to take you down a few pegs.

"I'm teaching a class on hand to hand combat. How about we show them a demonstration on what a real fight looks like?"

You giggled as your smile grew, a disturbing sight that made even Kim doubt herself for a moment. You nodded your head in easy acceptance and she looked like she was pleased at herself for getting this opportunity. Before you could step forward though, you found Matt's walking stick blocking your path.

"What? It's not assault if it's provoked," you grinned at the frown on his face.

He hated it when you found loopholes, but he relented with a heavy sigh. He was too used to this. He leaned toward Pietro and told him that he should inform the Captain.

"Get some snacks too, roadrunner," Billy chuckled, delightedly watching you strip off your shirt and walking confidently towards Kim on the sparring mats.

Pietro had returned a moment later after completing his task, actually handing Billy a bag of fresh popcorn. The smile on his face froze when he caught sight of your bare skin. So far all he had seen as evidence of your torture was what was visible on your neck and face. He had stupidly brushed that fact aside, too excited to have found you again. Now the vicious marring on your beautiful skin was a cruel reminder of their failure as your team. They had failed you.

He had failed you.

Back in the conference room, the same feelings were shared by two super soldiers. They had pulled up surveillance on the training area after Pietro's message, just in time to see you take off that shirt.

Bucky felt the air leave his lungs at the horrific sight. He was alive and you had paid a heavy price for saving him. He could barely keep his eyes on you, the shame burning through him. He didn't want to imagine the amount of pain you had to endure to sustain those injuries.

"Don't you people dare look at her with pity," Frank warned. "Those scars are a testament to her strength. She's damn beautiful."

Steve agreed. He'd caught a glimpse of your scars last night and jarring as they were, your complete lack of self consciousness to them just made you more alluring. Looking back at the screen though he was concerned that you could hurt yourself. Kim was a top agent now, high enough in the ranks to be training recruits and leading missions. She had proven herself deadly in combat, but the way you were grinning was chilling in itself.

"One question before we start," you said.

"What?" Kim scoffed, flipping her braided hair over her shoulder.

"When's your next mission?"

"2 weeks. Why?" she answered, perfect brow raised in confusion.

"Just calculating your recovery time," you shrugged. "I'm nice that way."

Kim predictably charged at you then, growling and cursing at you under her breath. You smirked, standard SHIELD movements were easy to read for you. You stayed completely still and relaxed in your stance as she lunged at you with her fist. You timed your movement precisely, sidestepping at the absolute last moment. One hand grabbed at the back of her head, forcing it down to ram against your oncoming fist with a sickening crack.

Broken nose.

Kim shrieked in pain as the blood gushed from her nose and she tried to pull away from you. You didn't let her. You pulled her down by the shoulder to bend her over before driving your knee up her midsection. She wheezed at the impact, the mat below her smattered with her blood.

Bruised ribs. Maybe slightly broken.

You unceremoniously threw her aside, letting her fall groaning on her side. You clicked your tongue, watching her struggle and turning to the class she was supposed to be teaching.

"Lesson 1, kids," you waved your hands in Kim's general direction. "Don't end up like that."

Broken ego.

You turned to go back to your boys when the glint of metal caught your eye. You tilted your head just in time for the dagger to zip past your eye line, only thinly scratching at your cheek. Your hands reacted on instinct, reaching for the small hidden pocket along the waistband of you pants. You flicked the thin blade with deft fingers, embedding on the mat and landing it purposely close to Kim's eyes that it cut through her fake lashes.

"Nem!" Steve's unmistakable voice boomed through the speakers. You had forgotten that they had FRIDAY everywhere. "We said no weapons."

You rolled your eyes and smiled cheekily at the cameras. "It's just a nail file. I don't like keeping blood under my nails."

"You call that training?" Steve groaned rubbing his eyes and turning to Frank.

"I call that anger management," Frank said, amused at how unpredictable to handle they already found you when they've barely scratched the surface. He noticed how Bucky looked furious, his metal hand clutching a little too hard onto the table. "Don't like what you see, Sarge?"

Bucky didn't answer. He didn't tell them that he didn't like what he saw because he knew he was a major contributor in what caused it. If only he had been kinder, gentler, more honest. Maybe things would have turned out differently.

He walked down the hallways much later gripping a first aid kit in his metal hand and nervously running the other through his cropped hair. The cut on your face was barely anything, but he needed an excuse to talk to you. He was afraid you would turn him away, but he was terrified that you wouldn't. He didn't know what to say to you. He didn't know how to begin to apologize for everything he's done. His palm grew sweaty and beads were beginning to form on his brow.

He was only a few steps away from your bedroom door and he was sorely tempted to turn back around when he noticed that it was cracked open and he could hear voices from inside. He should have followed his instinct to keep his distance but a high whine that definitely came from you pushed him to peak through the small opening.

What he saw made his already thumping heartbeat grow quicker. His eyes grew wide and his throat went dry. Whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn't this.

You. Stark naked. Grinding your mound on someone's face.

You looked absolutely glorious as you wound your hips in your chase for release; head thrown, back arched, and lips in a dreamy smile. The view he had of you, facing him and deep into your pleasure, was enough to cause his pants to tighten. He couldn't see which one of your teammates was beneath you, the bedframe blocking his view. Whoever they were, Bucky was jealous. He wanted to taste you too.

He felt that stirring of longing again now as he watched you in the throes of passion with another man. He felt it the moment you stepped back into their lives. He felt it during the 10 years they thought you were dead. And he felt it when you were still in training as a recruit every time you smiled at Pietro and Steve.

You picked up your pace and he could see muscular arms reach up to grip your waist and pull you down harder. You were panting curses, your breathing turning erratic and Bucky could see your thighs begin to shake. The sight of you coming undone has to be the most entrancing thing he's ever seen.

Movement from you and your partner pulled him from the hypnosis caused by your erotic display. His face heated up, deeply embarrassed at having watched you for so long and finding enjoyment in basically violating your privacy. He was about to leave when the man whose face you had been riding, came up to kneel behind you.

He pulled your hips back against his own, sliding his hard length easily into your dripping cunt causing you to moan so deliciously that Bucky felt a shiver run down his spine. You reached your hand up to grip the back of his head, letting him bury his own in your neck as he set a languid pace with his thrusts.

Your head rolled to the side and your eyes opened, locking directly with Bucky's. You smirked and reached down to circle your swollen bud, pressing your back further against the hard body rutting behind you and purposely putting on a show. You winked at him.

He bolted out of there.

"That wasn't very nice, honey," the low voice was thick with lust in your ear. His breathing was growing labored too, finding your heat wrapping around him overwhelming.

"I don't see you stopping, Captain."

"How can I when you're gripping me so tight?" He snapped his hips earning a sharp moan from you. "Did you like that? Torturing my best pal with me balls deep inside you?"

You sighed and closed your eyes. Apple pie Steve wouldn't have whispered such sinful things to you, but this Steve could make you cum with just filthy words alone.

"Yeah, you did. Look at you clenching and soaking my cock from having Bucky watch you. You like being bad to him, honey?"

A sudden smack to your ass had you snapping your eyes open. He chuckled into your neck, biting down hard on the juncture as he felt you gripping him even tighter.

"Answer," he growled, landing a harsher smack to your bottom.

"Yes! Yes, Captain, I did."

"Good. Will you be good for me now, honey? You caused a bit of trouble today." His thrusting was still slow, making sure you felt every ridge and vein with each stroke as he drove you into a stupor. "Will you be a good girl for your Captain now?"

"Yes, Captain."

He smirked against your skin, pleased at your compliance. He was reveling in the power he had over you. Frank had said that you never took orders without a fight, but here you were being so good for him. Pliable. Yielding. He was enjoying it.

He gathered your hair in one hand and pulled, your back arching beautifully and emphasizing where his cock was buried deep inside you. With each thrust his cock came out glistening with your slick. The image made him lose control, abruptly escalating his pace to rail feverishly into you.

He had you gasping and clutching at the sheets instantly, begging for him to go harder and push you over the edge. He bent over you and reached around to rub furiously at your throbbing clit.

"Cum like a good girl, honey. Cum around my cock," he commanded. "I wanna feel you fucking drown me."

You came, lights dancing in your eyes and your head empty of all thoughts aside from the pleasure that racked your body. He followed soon after with a loud grunt, the sensation of you fluttering around him too much to resist.

He fell on top of you, spent and satisfied. Your sweat and heavy breaths mingling together as you both tried to return back to the world. You liked the heavy feel of him on top of you, strangely finding comfort in the weight.

He dragged you with him when he rolled off you, spooning you and planting kisses on the back of your shoulders that had your skin tingling from his beard.

"When are you going to put him out of his misery?"

"When it stops being fun?" you chuckled.

Steve wasn't going to push the issue. He knew that it was up to you whether you forgave Bucky or not and when that would be. It would be on your own terms how things moved. Just like what happened between you two. He wasn't expecting it, but the heated argument about the injuries you inflicted on one of his best agents had somehow escalated into him spanking you and you growing wet from it.

Not that either of you were complaining.

You turned around in his arms to face him, looking up at him with a taunting smirk. "You sure your old heart can take being in a polyamorous relationship?"

He chuckled and pecked your lips before going back in for a much deeper kiss that had you swooning. When he pulled back, he was looking at you lovingly.

"I'm known for waiting too long about things like this. I lost my shot at you 10 years ago. I'm not missing out on you again."

His words were firm and genuine. He honestly thought that he would mind having to share you with several other men. He thought that he would feel jealous and possessive. Instead, he felt reassured. He knew that wherever and whenever he lacked, someone else would pick it up and he would be the same. There was a sense of relief knowing that you would always be taken cared of by people who felt the same for you as he did.

"Well then you have some making up to do for waiting so long," you said nibbling at his lower lip.

He groaned and grabbed your thigh, hitching your leg up on his hip. Your thighs and core were still sticky and slippery from both your releases. His tongue dove into your mouth and he could feel you moan against his lips as he ran the tip of his cock against your still sensitive core. Your nails dug into his back as he sunk in, fitting perfectly inside you.

"You're running with a super soldier now, honey," he said, eyes burning with want. "I can do this all day."

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A/N: Some asked about Jill and Kim so here you go, lovelies. Come freak out with me in the comments and reblogs. Thank you all for the support! More coming soon. 

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