#he died. i think. right around when she met seven. right before. seven never met him. so she was. what they met in 7th grade?

[graciescott27]

Non-Disclosure Agreement! — M. Kaiser

Michael Kaiser slept with you once and now won’t leave you alone?!

Last Chapter! — Next Chapter!

CHAPTER ONE - L’AMOUR DE MA VIE!

cw: very clearly toxic, private relationship, friends with benefits but not really friends, Kaiser, suggestive in a few places, language, talks about drinking

Michael Kaiser x reader!

I promise it gets good guys chapter one is just kinda trash 🙏

mdni!

word count: 1k

Meeting Michael Kaiser was the sole reason you knew you had done some horrific act in your past life. At first he’s fun. He draws you in with his well-crafted words, his voice, his stories, his charm. Everything he said made him seem like a normal person. When you first meet him, he’s not Michael Kaiser, God’s Chosen Emperor. He’s not Michael Kaiser, scum of the earth. He’s Michael Kaiser, psychology nerd and possible alcoholic.

That was how you ended up stumbling into his bed half drunk on a random September night. He left his house long before you ever did, saying that he had training early. You didn’t understand why he trusted you, a total stranger, alone in his house. He was right to trust you, of course. You didn’t touch any of his stuff (despite how much you wanted to) and you left before 10 AM. The plan was to never come back. The night had been fun, sure, but it wasn’t smart to get involved with a football pro. That never ended well, and you were certain you wouldn’t be the one to actually have a relationship last with one of them. Kaiser had enough women to keep him entertained, anyways.

That was until you got a text from an unknown number asking to meet at the same bar you had met him at. Right. You had given him your number. God, drunk you was an idiot.

And with that, the torturous cycle had begun. Your face appeared to Kaiser’s neighbors every other week now. You knew his training schedule. He knew when all of your classes for university were. One of the rules, however, was that you never made an appearance at any of his games. A tragic order, really. You enjoyed football. Bastard München had been your favorite team since you were little. You had been to plenty of their matches long before Kaiser had joined the roster. But if that was how it had to be, you could settle for only watching them online.

A single one of your friends knew about him. You had only told her because of your “safe dating” plan. You shared your location with her at all times so she could make sure you weren’t in any danger. She had been in a relationship with the same man since high school. You would have kept track of her, too, if that wasn’t the case. She was the only one who knew how disgustingly frequent your trips to his house were.

He was always the one to text first. You didn’t think too much about him when he wasn’t inside of you, honestly. When a call reminded you of his existence, you were quick to meet him at that stupid bar. The past few weeks, there had been no call. He hadn’t texted you once. Since September, you had counted forty-seven calls or texts simply asking for your presence in his bed. It was now January. With how cold it was growing in Germany, you were surprised that he didn’t want the extra warmth.

The moment you realized it had been exactly 20 days since his last sign of life (which was also the moment you started to think he had died), there was a knock on your door. You had expected it to be him, but at the same time you had never told him where you lived. It was a bit more terrifying than surprising for his blue and blonde hair to appear when you opened the door.

“Am I dead?” you sighed. “Is that why Satan keeps sending his favorite child to me?”

“Flattering,” he rolled his eyes, walking straight past you through the door.

You scoffed at his flippant attitude and closed the door. “Mhm, sure. How did you find my house?”

“You told me the address one night. Figured it was your actual house,” he said. 

God, you were a stupid drunk.

The way he walked around your living room told you everything you needed to know about what kind of man Michael Kaiser was. He did not care. He did not see a single issue with his judgement of others. In your mind, he was the most narcissistic being to walk the planet.

“Oh, dear god, of course I did,” you sighed. You followed him to your couch, sitting down  right beside him.

He turned to face you completely. “I have a request.”

You couldn’t help but groan internally. “What?”

“Come to my next match,” he blurted before he could second guess anything. “I’ll set aside a ticket for you so you don’t have to pay. You’re probably drowning in student debt already, I doubt you could pay 300 euros. It’s against Spain. They’re pricks. I want you to meet this one Japanese one. He’s actually the most disgusting person I have ever met in my life. I hate him. You’ll probably like him, though, which is unfortunate.”

It was like the words wouldn’t stop pouring from his mouth. What was he even saying? You weren’t supposed to go to his games. You were t supposed to be seen together in public at all. Why was he promising to set aside a ticket for you? He wasn’t even nice to you when he was fucking you. He must have been possessed if he came to your house just to be nice.

“Why do you care about my opinion?” Was all you could manage to say.

He scoffed, effortlessly slipping back into his typical annoying persona. “Oh, no, I don’t. Gross. Why would I give a damn about what you think?”

“Mhm, okay then,” you nodded. “You’re inviting me out somewhere and not expecting it to end in sex. This is a first.”

“You’re a person with a brain,” he shrugged. He looked around your living room, trying to take in every detail. “People like events. This is an event. Im doing it out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Not possible for you.”

“Oh, yes, keep going about how I’m so unpleasant to be around and the bane of your existence,” he nearly laughed.

“Aw, I’m sorry. Is this not turning you on?” you raised a brow. It was always at least a little amusing talking to him. When the tension disappeared, a conversation was effortless.

“Not in any way, no.”

“Wow.”

Michael Kaiser was lucky he had a pretty dick or you wouldn’t have spoken to him after the second meeting.

— @graciescott27

[dayasfilms]

Chapter Seven - Watergate

Summary: The four of you go through the gate to save Steve. Then you all try to find a way out.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Y/N, blood, murder, weapons, bruises, injuries, gore, death

Word Count: 6.2k

Note: Two more chapters to go! I’m a little sad that this series is almost over, but I’m thinking of writing some one shots of Star and Steve, and maybe even Star and the other characters, outside of the series. It could be different things, like when Star first moved to Hawkins, when she first met Jonathan, when she first met Steve, all that stuff!

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

You watched as Steve was dragged into the gate, the red glow pulsing around it. You swam faster, pushing yourself through the portal. You climbed out and stood, breath hitching as you took in your surroundings. Your mind flashed back to three years ago, the first time you accidentally ended up in the Upside Down.

Around you, the sky was blue, but laced with red flashes. Behind you, you heard groaning and turned to see Nancy, Robin, and Eddie pulling themselves through the gate one after another.

A scream pierced the air, and you knew it was Steve. You took off running toward his voice, heart hammering in your chest. And then you saw the bats, dozens of them, choking and biting into him.

Your eyes caught on an oar lying near what looked like an abandoned boat. Without thinking, you grabbed it and ran. You swung at one of the bats latched onto Steve’s stomach, knocking it away with a thud.

Steve looked up, eyes landing on you and the others.

“Hey there,” you said, breathless, swinging at another bat.

Everyone began to fight off the creatures. You grabbed another bat, yanking it off his chest before slamming it down with the oar, the creature shrieking as it died. Another bat came towards you before you slid onto your knees and spun the oar in a circle, stabbing it just as it came close.

One bat flew at Nancy, and you jumped up, kicking it mid-air. You barely had time to react before another bit into your arm. You screamed, the pain too sharp. Nancy tried to help, but it was deep, and blood oozed from the wound.

Gritting your teeth, you grabbed the bat and ripped it off with your hand, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it. Pain shot through your arm as you turned back to Steve, just in time to see him tear a bat off by biting into it and slamming it to the ground. He ripped it apart with his foot, spitting out blood.

“Shit, Steve. Are you okay?” You asked, rushing to his side. You cupped his face gently, checking his throat to see the red mark from the bat choking him. Your eyes trailed down to his stomach, his flesh bitten into.

He looked down at himself. “Well, they took about a pound of flesh,” he joked, voice shaking. “But other than that, yeah, never better.” He tried to smile, then caught sight of your face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, ignoring your own pain. “But we need to get you help.”

“Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?” Robin asked suddenly, looking around.

“What?” Steve asked, confused.

“It’s just that rabies are, like, my number one greatest fear,” she rambled. “And I think we should get you to a doctor soon because once symptoms set in, it’s too late. You’re already dead.”

Everyone stared at her.

Then you heard more screeches in the air. Bats began landing in front of you, shrieking and blocking off the gate. Steve instinctively threw an arm in front of you, pushing you back.

“All right. There’s not that many,” Steve muttered, trying to sound confident. “We can take them. Right?”

You shot him a look, which he didn’t see. You weren’t so sure. Then more bats appeared in the sky, flying towards you.

“You were saying?” Robin asked dryly.

Nancy turned towards the trees. “The woods. Come on.”

The five of you sprinted into the forest, dodging vines and branches as shrieks echoed behind you. You didn’t stop until you reached the Upside Down version of Skull Rock. You dropped behind it, crouching low.

“That was close,” Robin panted, slowly standing up once the bats flew away.

“Yeah. Too close,” Eddie said shakily.

Steve tried to stand straight but immediately stumbled. You caught him, steadying him with both hands as he leaned against the rock.

“Steve?” You asked, eyes wide.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but his voice cracked.

“You’re not,” you said softly, guiding him down. “Sit. Careful.”

You helped guide him to sit against the rock, hands carefully pressing at his side. Steve groaned in pain, eyes shutting briefly. You hated seeing him like this. You pulled off your white button-down shirt, revealing your black tee underneath, and began tearing it to make a makeshift bandage.

Robin crouched nearby, wincing at the wound. “So, the good news is I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies. But if you start having hallucinations or muscle spasms, or you wanna punch me, let me know.”

“Robin,” Steve grunted.

“Yeah?”

“I kinda wanna punch you.”

“Sense of humor is still intact. That’s a good sign.”

You finished ripping your shirt, leaning closer. “Are you ready?”

Steve nodded slowly. “Just do it.”

You wrapped the bandage tightly around his stomach, your fingers brushing his skin as you worked. He groaned at the feeling of your touch, despite the situation.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Keep going.”

You secured the bandage, tucking in the edge. “Is that too tight?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s good. Thank you.”

You finished securing the bandage, and for a few lingering seconds, your eyes met his. Both of you were breathing heavily, everything momentarily falling away. Even after everything that had just happened, Steve couldn’t stop staring at you. Your hair was still damp but now beginning to dry, your soft eyes locked on his, your lips parted slightly in concern. He wanted to kiss you right then and there. His gaze drifted slowly down your face, tracing every detail, until it landed on your arm. His expression changed instantly, lips parting at the sight of blood dripping from your wound.

“Hey. You’re bleeding,” Steve pointed out in concern.

You looked down, finally registering the pain again. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you insane?” He frowned. “That looks terrible. You need to stop the bleeding.”

Nancy stepped in, already tearing the bottom of her shirt. She sat beside you and gently took your arm. You winced as she wrapped it, and Steve held your hand as she worked, the worry never leaving his eyes.

“Thanks, Nance,” you said with a faint smile.

Nancy nodded, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing again, and stood beside Robin and Eddie. You turned back to Steve, only to see he was already looking at you.

You helped him up, one arm around his back, his arm slung over your shoulder. “You okay?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Eddie glanced around. “So, uh, this place is like Hawkins…but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Pretty much,” you answered, steadying Steve again. “Wait, watch out for the vines. It’s all a hive mind,” you added, stopping Eddie before he stepped down.

“It’s all a what?” He asked.

“All the creepy crawlies around here,” Steve explained. “They’re, like, one or something. Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.”

“Shit.”

“But everything from our world is still here, right?” Robin asked. “Except people. Obviously?”

“As far as we understand it,” Nancy confirmed.

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things guarding the gate,” Robin said quickly.

“I highly doubt Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin,” Steve told her. “But guns, yeah, sure.”

You sighed, resting your good arm on your hip. “If I still lived in Hawkins, I could’ve gone to my house and grabbed weapons. It’s closer than the station.”

Nancy thought for a moment, then shook her head. “We can go to my house. I have guns in my bedroom.”

Eddie raised a brow. “You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?”

You raised an eyebrow, taking a step forward. “Since when?”

Nancy rolled her eyes, but you could see the smile tugging at her lips.

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin laughed nervously, pointing at her.

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver,” Nancy said calmly.

Steve chuckled, stepping up to stand beside you. “Yeah, Y/N almost shot me with that one.”

You turned, smirking. “And you almost deserved it.”

You locked eyes, neither of you breaking the stare until Eddie threw his vest at Steve’s chest. “For your modesty, dude.”

Steve shot him a glare. You stifled a laugh. Then, the ground shook beneath your feet. Steve’s arm instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him as he gripped the rock.

Robin and Nancy collapsed on top of Eddie. You stayed against Steve’s chest, his grip tight as the earthquake continued. A few moments later, it stopped.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked softly, still holding you.

You stepped forward, out of his hold, and nodded. “Yeah.”

Everyone stood, brushing off dirt and dust. In the distance, you heard more shrieks.

“So, guns seem like a pretty good idea to me,” Eddie said.

“Yeah, me too,” Robin agreed.

Steve exhaled. “So what are we waiting for?”

You looked at Nancy. She nodded, stepping forward to lead the way. You followed beside her and Robin, your heart racing as you made your way toward the Upside Down version of the Wheeler house.

As you, Nancy, and Robin walked side by side at the front of the group, the boys trailed behind, deep in their own conversation.

“I would never have jumped in that lake to save your ass,” Eddie admitted honestly, glancing at Steve. “Not under any, uh…normal circumstances.”

They both paused briefly when a sudden noise caught their attention, but when nothing happened, they resumed walking.

“Outside of D&D, I am no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that’s what I've learned about myself this week.”

“Give yourself a break, man,” Steve replied, shaking his head.

Eddie gestured toward the three of you ahead. “See? The only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you. Now, I was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. But Kaul right there, she didn’t waste a second.” He pointed at you. “Not one second. She just dove right in.”

Steve’s breath hitched. His eyes drifted to the back of your figure, his expression softening as Eddie’s words sank in.

“Now, I don't know what happened between you two,” Eddie continued. “But if I were you, I would get her back. ‘Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve looked at Eddie, then back at you. His heart pounded. The image of you diving into the water without hesitation, all for him, was overwhelming. He wanted to hold you, to feel your heartbeat against his again. He still had hope for the two of you, despite everything that was happening.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled beneath your feet. The five of you instinctively grabbed onto nearby trees for support.

“Okay, second on my list of least favorite things, earthquakes,” Robin said, gripping her tree tightly. “Seriously, I’m unsteady enough as it is.”

Your eyes darted toward the edge of the woods. The red light pulsing through the air lit up your path as you slowly released your grip on the tree, your heart pounding against your chest. Without another word, you broke into a run toward the town in the distance.

“Y/N!” Robin shouted after you. “Where are you going? Y/N!”

You stopped at the edge of the Upside Down’s version of Hawkins, chest heaving. As soon as you stopped, the shaking beneath your feet did too. You exhaled sharply as the others caught up, their eyes also scanning the town ahead. You took one more steadying breath before stepping forward.

“Let’s go,” you said.

Yasmin sat in the back of the van next to Joyce, their wrists loosely tied. In the front seat, Murray was disguised as Yuri. He chatted with the Russian guard, as the real Yuri was gagged and bound, sitting in front of the two women in the back, a cloth wrapped tightly around the lower half of his face. He thrashed and grumbled through the muffling, but none of it was understandable.

Murray leaned into the role, claiming he’d captured the Americans and was delivering them personally. It was their only way inside to save Hopper.

Yasmin kept her head low, but her thoughts raced. She prayed Hopper was still alive. The second she read the message he sent to her California field office, her heart nearly stopped. Since that day they closed the gate in July, she’d played the moment over and over in her mind, wondering if, with just a few more seconds, they could’ve saved him. She never saw a body. That always left a sliver of hope.

When the guard finally gave Murray a nod and waved them through the gates, Yasmin released a silent breath. Murray rolled up the window and continued driving toward the prison.

She knew how reckless this was. At one point, she considered telling her team and thought about reporting it to Interpol. Russia was dangerous, and she’d handled enough cross-border cases during her years at the Bureau to know that. But she also knew exactly what would happen. They would shut her down. They’d say the message was fake, that Hopper was dead. They would never let her go.

But Yasmin believed. Deep down, she knew that he was alive. That he is alive.

Once the four of them made it into the prison, they were taken to a small holding room to wait for the Russian commander. Yuri kept grunting and thrashing in protest, but the other three rolled their eyes.

Murray was still pretending to be Yuri and spoke with an exaggerated accent, mimicking the smuggler’s strange mannerisms.

The door finally creaked open as a Russian officer stepped in. Murray spoke Russian, trying to sell the story that he, Yuri, had captured three Americans. The guard glanced at the real Yuri, but then his eyes landed on Yasmin.

He paused, narrowing his eyes. Then, in Russian, he began speaking. “The famous Yasmin Kaul. I could recognize you from a continent away.”

Yasmin understood enough to catch his meaning. She wasn’t fluent in Russian like Murray, but her experience had taught her to pick up on the essentials. She tensed as the guard continued, his eyes raking over her.

“An FBI agent, come to save the day, only to fall into a trap. You were more beautiful in uniform, but still, quite striking, aren’t you?”

Yasmin grimaced. Murray kept the act going, eventually pulling down the gag on her mouth to make the scene more real.

“What have you done with Hopper?” She snapped, venom in her voice. “You’re a disgusting pig. You’re not going to get away with this!”

The officer only raised a brow, amused. Murray quickly covered her mouth again and laughed in character, throwing in a comment in Russian about wanting to know the same thing.

The officer gestured for them to follow and led them outside. Below them was the prison yard. Yasmin’s breath caught in her throat.

There he was. Hopper was alive. Standing in a line with other prisoners.

Suddenly, a low growl echoed across the prison. It sounded familiar. The same one she’d heard so many times in Hawkins. Yasmin’s eyes widened as she heard the roar again. No…It couldn’t be.

The prisoners scrambled for weapons. Hopper moved quickly, grabbing a weapon and taking out a bottle before dousing his spear in alcohol, desperately trying to ignite it with a lighter.

A metal door opened, and the growls grew louder. Everyone above held their breath.

Then the Demogorgon burst into the yard, leaping at one of the prisoners and tearing into him. Blood splattered everywhere. Yasmin froze, her heart racing. Hopper still stood to the side, trying to get the lighter to work, but it still wouldn’t catch.

The Russian commander frowned, turning to a guard and barking an order to find out what he was doing. Yasmin’s instincts kicked in. She locked eyes with Murray and nodded. As the guard turned, she began to work at her bindings, subtly loosening them, and freed her hands. She then reached for her hidden gun.

The Russian commander turned back toward them and was met with two guns aimed at either side of his head. He froze.

“You’re going to stop this and help us save our friend,” Yasmin growled. “I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

The commander looked her dead in the eye. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to kill me. Because your friend is already dead.”

Yasmin’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see about that.”

They forced him down the corridor toward the control room, Yuri hopping behind them. Murray burst into the room with his gun raised, shouting at the guards to drop their weapons. The men hesitated but then complied, one by one, tossing their guns aside. Joyce rushed forward to grab one and held it up.

“Open the doors!” Murray barked, gun pointed back at the commander. “Or I’ll pull this trigger!”

The other Russian guard looked back and forth, then shook his head. “I can’t,” he stammered.

Yasmin rolled her eyes and pulled her trigger. One by one, she shot the Russians in the room, growing impatient. Their bodies hit the floor before anyone could react. She rushed over to the panels and pressed all the buttons.

“Yasmin!” Murray shouted. “What the hell are you doing?! You don’t even know what those buttons do!”

But she didn’t listen, continuing to press keys and flipping switches. Joyce joined her, working frantically. Then, with a hiss, the door to the yard opened.

Hopper and one other prisoner stumbled inside. Yasmin slammed her hand on the button again, just in time to see Hopper throw his flaming weapon at the Demogorgon. The creature roared again as the door slammed shut, trapping it on the other side.

The pounding in Yasmin’s chest didn’t stop. She pressed another button and the door to their room began to open. She turned away from the panel, heart in her throat, and walked forward slowly.

The doors finished sliding open, and there he was.

Her breath caught. Hopper’s eyes locked on hers. He couldn’t believe it. She took one step, then another, until she stood right in front of him. He looked rougher and older, and he lost so much weight. But he was here, in front of her.

Her arms wrapped around him before he could say a word. He gripped her like a man starved of touch, pulling her into the tightest embrace. She was here. She’d found him, risking her life to save him. Joyce and Murray too. He buried his face into her hair.

The five of you finally reached Nancy’s house, stepping inside its Upside Down version. You glanced around, taking in the familiar layout, now covered in thick vines and dust.

“Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler,” Robin quipped, eyeing the cluttered surroundings.

Nancy turned to the group. “Come on. I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to,” she said, already heading upstairs.

You all followed her up to her room. Nancy immediately went to her closet, pulling out a shoebox and rummaging through it. However, all she found was a pair of heels.

“Those aren’t guns,” Eddie pointed out flatly.

“These heels are pointy, but I was hoping for a deadly projectile,” Robin added, looking over at Nancy.

“I don’t understand,” Nancy muttered, brow furrowed.

“Maybe you left them somewhere else,” Eddie suggested.

“There’s a six-year-old in the house. I know where I keep my guns,” Nancy said firmly. She picked up the heels again. “And also, I threw these away years ago.”

Something on her desk caught her attention. She picked up a stack of flashcards and began flipping through them, confusion flickering across her face.

“I get that grades are important to you, but perhaps studying can wait till we get out?” Robin offered, trying to lighten the mood.

You tilted your head, noticing the way Nancy’s expression changed. Concerned, you stepped a little closer. “Nance, what’s wrong?”

“These are from sophomore chemistry,” she said, still staring down at the cards.

You glanced around the room, your eyes catching on the pattern on the wall. “Wait, Nance, isn’t this your old wallpaper?”

Nancy looked up and turned slowly, her gaze tracing the walls. “Y-yes…” she murmured, drifting toward her dresser. “And this mirror…this went to a yard sale.”

You crossed your arms, the unease growing in your chest. Something about all of this didn’t sit right.

She moved toward the bed and picked up a stuffed animal. “And you…You’re not supposed to be here. No, I gave you to Cousin Joanna two years ago.” She walked to the nightstand, spotting what looked like a diary. Her fingers trembled slightly as she flipped through its pages.

You stepped behind her, reading over her shoulder as she stopped on a particular entry. Your chest tightened. You were suddenly reminded of the time Steve and Nancy used to be together. You swallowed hard.

“What is it?” Eddie asked, walking closer with Robin.

“Nancy? You're freaking me out,” Robin said cautiously.

Nancy’s eyes stayed on the diary. “I think the reason that my guns aren’t here is because they don’t exist yet.”

Her words snapped you out of your thoughts.

“They don’t…exist?” Eddie repeated, head tilting.

Nancy turned to face the group. “This diary should be full of entries. It’s not. The last entry is November sixth, 1983. The day Will went missing. The day the gate opened.”

Your jaw dropped. “We’re in the past?”

Before anyone could respond, Steve’s voice echoed from downstairs, shouting. “Dustin! Dustin!”

You blinked, suddenly realizing Steve hadn’t been in the room. You all rushed out and ran downstairs, finding him in the kitchen, waving his flashlight around as he called for Dustin.

“Dustin! Can you hear me? Dustin! Du…Hello? Hel–Hello?”

“Maybe he really does have rabies,” Robin whispered to you all.

You furrowed your brows. “Steve, what are you doing?”

Steve turned, his flashlight landing on all of your faces, making you squint. “He’s here. Henderson.” He was breathing hard. “That little shit, he’s here. He’s like…He’s in the walls or something. Just listen.” You all stood quietly, trying to hear. “Dustin. Dustin! Dustin! Can you hear me?”

Then you finally heard it. It was faint, but it was definitely Dustin’s voice.

“Dustin!” You called out, moving through the house, trying to find a better spot to hear him. The others joined in, yelling his name. But there was no reply.

“All right, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douche bag,” Steve muttered, frustrated.

You suddenly remembered something, how Joyce had spoken to Will through the lights when he was trapped in the Upside Down. “Will found a way.”

“What?” Steve asked, turning to you.

“Will. When he was stuck, he found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights,” you explained, walking over to a lamp and flicking the switch, but nothing happened. You let out a frustrated sigh. “Shit. It’s not working.”

“Guys?” Steve called out. He directed his flashlight at the ceiling, where the lights were starting to flicker. “You seeing this?”

You all looked up. The lights pulsed and glowed, gradually intensifying.

You stepped closer, lifting a hand toward the glowing bulbs. As your fingers moved, the lights grew brighter, turning into a soft orange.

“Woah…” Eddie whispered, joining you. One by one, everyone raised their hands, running them through the glow.

“It…tickles,” Steve said, brows scrunching.

“It kinda feels good,” Robin added, making Eddie chuckle.

Nancy lowered her hand, glancing around at the group. “Does anyone know Morse code?”

“No,” Steve, Robin, and Eddie said in unison.

You nodded. “I know it, but I’m not sure if they do. I could still try.”

Nancy gave a quick nod before Eddie chimed in. “You can try SOS?” He looked uncertain. “Is that…Is that good?”

“Yes, that’s good, Eddie,” you replied with a small smile.

You focused and began signaling through the lights using your fingers, carefully tapping out the message. The voices on the other side suddenly stopped, growing quiet.

“It’s working,” Robin said, her eyes glued to the glow.

You continued flashing the signal, silently praying that Dustin or one of the other teens would understand, that this would be the way to getting all of you out.

Eventually, Dustin noticed your signal and told you all to head to Nancy’s room. Without a word, the five of you rushed upstairs, anxiously waiting for the teens to respond. You sat on the floor beside her bed, hoping the plan would work.

Finally, you saw a flicker of light as Steve used his flashlight to enhance it.

“Okay, you guys seeing this?” Dustin’s faded voice asked. You sat in the middle, fingers moving through the light. Relief flooded you as a smile spread across your face.

You could hear the kids laugh, clearly just as relieved that the lights were working for communication.

“We’re not moving it, but we’re gonna unplug it. Stand by,” Dustin’s voice echoed again. The light vanished. “Okay, try it now.”

“Okay…” you whispered. You moved your fingers slowly, spelling out ‘HI.’ The kids responded immediately.

“That worked!” Dustin exclaimed, the group cheering.

“Hi!” Eddie shouted with a grin.

You began again. “Let’s see…um…” You traced the letters for ‘STUCK.’ The word was a bit too big to fit all at once, but they understood.

“Stuck,” the kids echoed.

“Yes, we are,” Robin confirmed.

“Uh, you can’t get back through Watergate?” Dustin asked.

You furrowed your brow in confusion, looking at the others. “What the hell’s Watergate?” Steve asked.

“’Cause it’s in water and it’s a gate,” Robin explained, piecing it together.

“Oh,” Nancy muttered, shaking her head.

“That’s cute,” Eddie remarked.

You turned back to the light and traced out ‘GUARDED.’

“Okay. Uh, Watergate’s guarded,” Dustin interpreted.

“Perfect. Yes. Yes. Yes,” Steve cheered.

“We think we have a theory that can help with that,��� Dustin added.

“Genius child,” Robin murmured.

“We think Watergate isn’t the only gate. That there’s a gate at every murder site.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to process what he meant.

“Does anybody understand what he’s talking about?” Nancy asked. Steve, Robin, and Eddie all shook their heads.

“I think he means that Vecna opened a gate where every person has died,” you said, before turning to Eddie. “How far is your trailer from here?”

“Seven miles,” Eddie replied.

“Nancy?” Robin called, prompting the girl to look at her. “Uh, I know your house here is, like, weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit, but haven’t you always had bikes?”

Nancy’s expression changed as she remembered. She nodded and you quickly wrote to the kids, telling them to go Eddie’s trailer. Without wasting time, you all headed to the garage and found four bikes. You frowned slightly since there were five of you.

Noticing your expression, Nancy went deeper into the garage and pulled out another. “Don’t worry. This is my bike,” she said.

Relieved, the five of you grabbed the bikes and took off, pedaling the seven miles to Eddie’s trailer while staying alert for any Upside Down creatures. As you passed the Creel House in the distance, your eyes lingered on it for a moment before you shook your head and sped up to catch Eddie in the front. Eventually, you arrived. You dropped your bike and made your way inside.

“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record. Most miles traveled interdimensionally,” Robin quipped.

Steve coughed. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap. It’s stuck in my throat.”

Eddie opened the door. You stepped into the trailer, eyes scanning the vine-covered space. Your gaze caught on a red patch on the ceiling.

“Goddamn,” Steve muttered.

“This is where Chrissy died. Like, right where she died,” Eddie said with a visible shiver.

“I think there’s something in there,” Robin pointed out. You all stared at the object embedded in the goop.

“What the hell is that?” Steve asked.

Suddenly, something poked through the red mess, puncturing it and causing water to trickle out. The others stepped back instinctively, while you stayed put, intrigued. Slowly, you took a step forward, your head tilted.

Steve noticed your movement and stepped beside you. Together, the group approached slowly. The opening began to reveal Eddie’s trailer, the real one, from the right side up.

“No way,” Steve breathed.

You grinned as you saw Max, Lucas, Erica, and Dustin, their forms upside down from your view.

“Hi there!” Dustin waved.

“Hi!” You all called back at once, smiles breaking out across your faces.

“Holy shit, this is trippy,” Robin laughed.

“Bada-bada-boom!” Dustin grinned. He then started tying bed sheets that he found in Eddie’s trailer together into a rope while Max and Lucas grabbed Eddie’s mattress to protect your landing. You noticed the stains on the mattress and side-eyed Eddie.

“Those stains are, uh…” he stammered. You, Nancy, and Robin gave him a deadpan look. “I dunno what those stains are.”

“Mmm,” Robin hummed, grimacing.

Dustin returned with the makeshift rope. “Not quite sure how these physics work. But, uh…Here goes nothing.” He tossed one end up toward you, the rope landing perfectly through the hole. “And if my theory is correct…” He let go, the rope not falling. “Huh. Abracadabra.”

“Holy shit,” Max whispered.

“All right, pull on it! See if it holds!” Dustin called out.

Robin yanked hard. It still held strong.

“This is the craziest shit I’ve ever seen in my life,” Erica declared. “And I’ve seen some crazy shit.”

Robin gripped the rope. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.” She climbed up, grunting, and landed with a soft thud onto the mattress. “Oh, thank God. That was fun.”

Nancy went next. You knelt down and gave her a boost. She thanked you and then pulled herself up, before flopping onto the mattress. She let out a laugh. “That was cool.”

You and Steve exchanged a look, silently telling the other to go. Eddie looked at you two and sighed, grabbing the rope. “All right, guess I’ll go.”

“All right,” Steve mumbled.

Eddie climbed fast and dropped down with a wide grin. “That was fun.”

You looked at Steve. “You go first.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “No, no, you go first.”

You sighed and nodded, then approached the rope.

“See you on the other side,” Steve said softly, meeting your eyes.

“On the other side,” you echoed, smiling.

He stepped in to help, but you held out a hand. “I got it, don’t worry,” you said gently. He backed off, watching you expertly grip the rope and begin to climb.

“Nice,” he muttered with a grin.

You focused, pulling yourself up while keeping your breathing steady. As soon as you passed through the opening, you fell. But you didn’t stop.

Darkness enveloped you. You screamed, arms flailing for something to grab onto, but there was nothing. You hit the ground hard and pain exploded at the back of your head. You yelled out, clutching the spot, a fresh wave of pain stabbing through you. It throbbed in the exact place you had hit your head almost a year ago, back when the Mind Flayer had nearly killed you in the hospital. Gritting your teeth, you slowly pushed yourself upright and looked around.

You panted, chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes scanned the eerie surroundings. The air was cold, biting at your skin, and you started to shiver. Your heartbeat quickened. Your eyes widened in sudden realization.

“Y/N!” Steve gripped your shoulders, trying to shake you awake. “Hey! Hey!” He shouted, his voice cracking with fear. That’s when he realized you didn’t have your Walkman. You must have left it back on the boat when you dove in after him. “Stay with me! Y/N! Hey! Please! Wake up!”

But you couldn’t hear him. You stumbled in circles, panic rising in your chest. “No, no, no. Please, no,” you whispered, frightened by the thought that this might be the end. “Steve! Steve!” You cried out, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to hear you.

You were trapped, with no way out. You had no clue how to escape. And you had so much left undone, so much unfinished business and now, you didn’t know if you’d make it out alive.

Then, something caught your eye. A specific mark in the space around you. You spun slowly, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes landed on a familiar place, the same training room from years ago. Your mouth dropped open, brows pulling together.

A body lay nearby, but it was lifeless. Your stomach turned. You remembered that face, the first person you ever killed. The corpse was mutilated, spiders crawling from its gaping mouth, coated in slime. Choking back a sob, you staggered backward, your past crashing into you all at once.

“Y/N…” you heard Vecna’s voice, echoing around you. “Do you remember what you did? Do you remember everything?”

Your mind was suddenly a rush of memories, flooding in all at once. You clutched your head, both hands covering your ears, eyes squeezing shut in a desperate attempt to block it all out.

“Or have you already forgotten?” The voice persisted. Your attempt was useless. You opened your eyes just in time to see the vines begin to twitch and shift. You gasped for air, your body freezing in shock.

“When I kill someone…I never forget.”

Blood suddenly poured out from the walls, spilling across the floor. You stepped back again, trembling. Red lightning cracked above you. Then, more blood began to fall, this time cascading like a waterfall from above. You knew that if you stayed, the room would drown in it.

Without thinking, you ran to the door and yanked it open, desperate to escape the place that had haunted you for so long.

You burst through the doorway, only to find yourself enveloped in red light, a clock ticking relentlessly in your ears. You descended the stairs, your heart pounding harder with every step. Floating before you was the same grandfather clock.

“I see you’ve been looking for me, Y/N. You were so close. So close to the truth. How was old, blind, dumb Victor? Did he miss me?”

Your brows furrowed, mind struggling to grasp the meaning behind his words.

“I’ve been meaning to check back in, but I’ve been busy.” You turned your head just in time to see Fred’s corpse, wrapped in vines, mouth agape. Your breath hitched. “So very busy.”

Your attention snapped to the Creel House door. It creaked open to reveal Victor Creel and his family. The dark red glow faded, showing the inside of the house. You watched silently as the family moved in for the first time.

Your gaze landed on a young boy in the corner. Victor had mentioned his son, and you knew it was Henry. You followed the boy, your pulse still racing.

“I was just like you, Y/N. Very quiet and sensitive. I never fit in with the other children,” Vecna’s voice continued. You swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the boy. “Something was wrong with me. All the teachers and the doctors said I was…‘broken.’”

Henry disappeared into a room, and you trailed after him. The lights started to flicker above. You watched as he opened a vent filled with black widows and webs. A shiver crawled up your spine at the sight. One of the spiders crept across his hand, and you jumped when someone ran behind you.

You spun around, then followed Henry again, this time up to the attic. Jars of black widows lined the room. A massive drawing of a spider hung nearby. He moved toward the polished grandfather clock and stood before it, staring. You frowned as he placed a hand near the clock, his eyes closed. Then the hands on the clock began to spin, ticking faster and faster.

You heard a scream behind you. You turned and suddenly found yourself outside, watching Henry catch a rabbit. He killed it with his powers, mutilating the poor thing. Disgusted, you scrambled back inside and slammed the door.

Victor appeared in the room, watching his own fears, falling into a trance. Then you turned and saw the Creel family gathered for dinner.

Your breath caught as Henry used his powers to murder his mother right there at the table. Victor grabbed the children, trying to escape the house. You watched it all, unable to look away. You saw Victor’s arrest, accused of killing his family.

Then the setting changed again. Henry was strapped to a chair, locked in the same lab that kept Eleven. You watched in horror as Brenner carved ‘001’ into his skin. Your throat closed, thinking of yourself. When you were kidnapped and your wrists were bound to the chair. It was all too familiar, when you were taken and couldn’t escape.

It all made sense now. Henry Creel killed his family. He was one of Brenner’s test subjects. He was like Eleven. And he is Vecna, the monster that is now haunting Hawkins.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Too Sweet For Me

Summary: Seventeen year old Y/N isn't thrilled when she finds out her father is somehow Soldier Boy and she's now meant to live with him...

Pairing: Soldier Boy x daughter!reader

Word Count: 1,400ish

Warnings: language, minor fight

A/N #1: I noticed I've never done a Soldier Boy x daughter fic and decided to remedy that! This was meant to be a very short fic but it spiraled a bit. Not sure if there's any interest in this going forward but I have ideas for where it could go if I were to continue...

A/N #2: This diverges just a tad from The Boys. For the purposes of this story, imagine that Soldier Boy killed Homelander at the end of S3 and is now running The Seven. The reader is seventeen for this story...

________

You swallowed as the man that was apparently your father strode around the corner. He was tall and broad, the green fabric of his uniform stretched taut over his strong muscular form. All you’d wanted for years was to find him, have your birth dad miraculously come take you out of foster care so you could stop the constant moves, the constant disappointment. 

At seventeen you knew better than to expect some instant connection. Mom hadn’t been shy about the fact he was an anonymous donor, even when you were little and asked who he was. You always figured he didn’t want you but after she died when you were eight, you hoped he’d show up somehow, like something out of Annie and you’d suddenly have a permanent family again.

Having Soldier Boy for a father wasn’t exactly filling you and the warm and fuzzies.

At least it explained the super strength when you hit puberty, a fact you’d kept hidden from everyone. Every foster parent, schoolmate, social services employee. You weren’t about to wind up in Red River and have your life destroyed before it even started.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” said Andrew, the brand new case worker assigned to you. You didn’t take you eyes off the man before you, green eyes watching you cautiously, as a door to the apartment in Vought tower closed behind you.

Soldier Boy’s gaze wandered lower, taking you in fully. Your fists clenched by your sides. You didn’t care what the news said about how he was the hero that took out Homelander. About how he was a war hero. About how somehow he got your mother pregnant after he supposedly died and that made no sense at all.

All you could think about was the gossip forums you scrolled through last year during your annual supe school project on him. Manipulative. Abuser. Sexist. Violent. Damn near sociopathic with how little he cared for the victims left in his wake. 

Finally his gaze met yours again, his mouth curling up in a smile when you clenched so hard the whites of your knuckles showed through your skin.

“No need to be afraid of me, Y/N,” he said politely, taking a few steps forward but giving you plenty of space. “I know you’re confused and I’ll explain but I am your father. I wouldn’t harm you.”

“Funny. Didn’t you kill your last child six months ago? Homelander? Instilling me with a lot of confidence.” His eyebrows raised, his smile flashing a bit of surprise. “I’m not some delicate flower, old man.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, stepping right in front of you, staring you down as you failed to fight back a thick swallow. He gently wrapped his hand around your wrist, your breath hitching when he gave it a squeeze. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Put your dick anywhere near me and I’ll rip it off.” His hand shot to your jaw, cradling it and forcing you to keep your head up, staring straight at his angry eyes. 

“You’re sick in the head if you think I’d ever touch you. You’re my child for fucks sake and you will learn to watch your mouth.” You kneed him in the groin, Soldier Boy’s whole body jerking as his hands shot to his midsection, doubled over in pain.

“Don’t you confuse the fact that I’m a good person with weakness,” you spat back. He recovered quickly despite you putting all your force behind the hit. Shit. Just how strong was he? You backed up straight into the apartment door, Soldier Boy crowding in on your space. A tremble ran through your body. He’d killed Homelander and his grandson had disappeared off the face of the planet and they hadn’t even done anything to him.

Soldier Boy leaned down, his face barely more than an inch away from your own, his hands splayed out on either side of your head. You kept his gaze though, something flickering in his green eyes for the briefest of moments.

“Who would have thought my teenage daughter had a bigger set of balls than that psycho of a son ever did.” You didn’t move, didn’t dare suck in a breath as he sized you over again. Suddenly he straightened, staring over your head at the wood behind you. “I’m your father whether you like it or not and you’re under my care until you’re 18. You’ll want for nothing.”

“Nothing but an actual father,” you mumbled, wincing when you realized he had super hearing and stifled at the response. After a long beat, he strode away over to a liquor cart, carelessly pouring a large glass of whiskey for himself. 

“Where’s my room?” you sighed, reaching to pick up your backpack and duffel from the foyer. 

“Second floor, second door on the right,” he said, getting to the duffel before you could take it. He held it out for you, taking a long sip, the only indication that it burned the small hiss of air he let out.

You got one hand on the strap when he didn’t release it, your eyes narrowing.

“I used to look at my father like that you know.”

“Let me make something clear,” you said, yanking the bag away, Soldier Boy allowing you to take it. “I don’t know what this is but I’m not going to fall head over heels for you just because you’re my dad. You have to earn that and if you’re not going to try, then stay out of my way.”

He smirked, leaning back against the bar cart with. “What a big little girl you are with your ultimatums. You think a temper tantrum is how to get what you want?”

“All I want is you to not hurt me and for you to be nice. It’s a low fucking bar and until you can clear it, it’s better if you leave me alone.” 

“You’re too sweet for me,” he said, throwing back the rest of his drink, pouring himself another. “A girl who writes a paper on how awful Soldier Boy is and how if he were a normal citizen would have been thrown in jail isn’t someone I would ever expect would give him a chance.”

You lifted your chin even as your heart rate picked up, Soldier Boy quickly by your side and leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I’d expect a bit more ruthlessness from the girl that said I deserved the death penalty.” Your gaze fixated on the sleek wooden floors beneath you, his arm brushing yours. “It’s okay to admit you want a daddy, baby girl. I’m not a monster like you think.”

“It’s okay to admit you’re scared of being alone. Why else would you come and get me?” you said, his body tense beside you. You turned your head up, his gaze hard once more. You smiled. “I hit a nerve, old timer?”

“It’s cute that you think I give a shit about you.” You couldn’t hide the flash of pain on your face, his eyes narrowing. “Like I said, you’re too sweet. I can break you with just a few words.”

“Then why find me?” you asked as he shoved the whiskey in your hands and took the bags from them, storming off across the apartment for the stairs. “Why did you take me out of my foster home?”

“Because you’re mine whether I like it or not.” He looked over his shoulder. “And you will not fuck that up. Now drink that, calm the fuck down and get used to it or I’ll make sure you get tossed in Red River without a second thought.”

“Or you can just man the fuck up and say you’re scared because you’re alone and I’m all you got.” He stared you down, trying to intimidate you but you didn’t miss the way his eyes watered ever so slightly before he was gone around the corner.

You sighed, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. Okay, that could have gone worse. Much worse. While you weren’t exactly thrilled about how things had gone, at least you knew one thing. 

Somewhere deep, deep down, that man cared about you, only so he wouldn’t be lonely. You wouldn’t trust that it was anything more than that. Those days were long gone, especially when Soldier Boy of all people was your father. It was far too dangerous to trust whatever act he put on once he decided to start playing nice.

You took a long sip of the whiskey, the fiery liquid burning down your throat, making you cough violently. You swore you heard the asshole laughing all the way from the living room.

_______________

A/N: If you'd like to read more of this story, please let me know in a comment, reblog or ask!

[ghostlynightpanda]

HELLO AGAIN! was wondering if u could do an aguni x chubby reader fic where like the chubby reader doesn't look like she's strong/can fight but she actually can ✊ (again, if u don't feel comfortable doing a chubby reader u can always switch!) take ur time and have a good day/night!

A/n: I tried my best to write chubby reader, I hope you like it! Also, it's probably ooc Aguni, since I never wrote for him before.

Aguni - Tower of Terror

synopsis: In a deadly survival game, you and Aguni battle through a collapsing tower filled with ruthless enemies, pushing your limits to claim victory. As blood is shed and survival instincts take over, an unexpected bond begins to form in the midst of chaos.

Warnings/Content: Aguni x fem!reader, description of violence and blood, character death

The world was ending. Or it had already ended, but that equaled the same thing, right?

This place was an exact replica of Tokyo, maybe even the whole world, but you never ventured beyond the city's borders to confirm. It was like a ghost town. No people were to be seen, except during the games.

That was the biggest difference. Everyone here was just a visitor in this world, bound by visas that would eventually expire. And if they did expire?

Boom.

A laser through the head.

Dead.

To extend your visa, you had to play deadly games. If you survived, your visa was extended by the number on the card you played.

Every game was different. You had survived seven games so far—seven agonizing, terrifying, and brutal games. You weren't sure how you had made it through, but somehow, you did.

Well enough that the Beach had taken you in. The Beach was a supposed sanctuary, a safe haven for the best players. Not for everyone—only those skilled enough to contribute. It was a former beach resort turned into a survivalist compound, housing around seventy players.

Now, you stood before a towering structure, waiting for the next game to begin. You had arrived with two others from the Beach. Survivors were always split into different groups to gather cards more efficiently. But that didn’t mean you were allies. Betrayal was a possibility in every game, and so was murder.

A metallic voice announced the start.

Seven of Clubs. A team battle.

Players had to fight their way up the multi-floor tower to reach the top. Every three levels, the threats intensified. Any floor left uncleared within the time limit would collapse, dooming anyone still inside.

"Don't get in our way," one of the militants snarled. "Not that I think you have a chance anyway," he eyed you with an amused smirked, clearly expecting you to not be able to fight or run. Well, he was in for a surprised if he'd underestimate you.

The militants were the Beach's enforcers. The only ones allowed to carry weapons. They were meant to uphold order, but most of them abused their power, taking whatever they wanted without consequences.

You met his glare but remained silent. There was no point in provoking him. Especially since the other person here was their leader, Aguni. He probably wouldn't hesitate to back his own.

"Let's go," Aguni ordered.

Twelve players stepped through the first door.

The first three floors were manageable—basic combatants wielding bats and pipes, runners who tried to grab and hold players in place, and deadly traps like spike walls and drop floors. Three people died almost immediately, but none of them were from your group.

Floors four through six were worse. Sword-wielding enemies fought in synchronized formations, and snipers forced players to either take cover or keep moving. You had managed to grab a bat from one of the fallen enemies, which helped with defense. But the snipers were another issue entirely. Running and dodging under fire was exhausting. You were strong, but speed had never been your strong suit. Every step felt heavier, sweat dampening your clothes. Your breath came in sharp, labored gasps.

Only five of you remained when you reached the eleventh floor.

"How the hell did you make it this far?" the militant sneered, eyeing you with disdain as he wiped blood off his blade.

Before you could reply, the next wave began.

Silent, hooded figures emerged from the darkness, attacking with blinding speed before vanishing. They were almost impossible to hit and far stronger than their wiry forms suggested. The room was riddled with traps—electrified floors forcing players to jump between platforms while dodging attacks.

Then it happened. One of the hooded figures moved too quickly to block, slicing the militant's throat open before he could react. His gurgled screams filled the air before he collapsed. He clawed at his neck, eyes wide with disbelief, but within seconds, he was still. Dead.

You and Aguni fought fiercely, dodging and countering where you could. You saw him get thrown to the ground, an enemy raising a sword for a killing strike. Without thinking, you rushed in, swinging your bat hard into the attacker's leg. The figure dropped with a muffled grunt, and you followed up with a devastating blow to the head.

"You okay?" you panted.

Aguni stared at you for a moment, surprised. Then, reluctantly, he took your offered hand and let you pull him up.

"Thank you," he muttered, clearly hating the admission. But there was no time to dwell on it. More enemies swarmed you.

"Move!" Aguni grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the staircase. The door slammed shut behind you just as the floor collapsed beneath the corpses.

"The next floor should be the last," you gasped, your legs shaking from exhaustion.

The final floor was different. One vast, dimly lit room. And one opponent.

A towering figure stood in the center, clad in black. Two gleaming swords rested in his hands. His stance was calm but menacing.

The moment you stepped forward, he attacked.

He was impossibly fast. His blades were a blur as he struck, forcing you and Aguni back. Every block sent shockwaves up your arms. Every dodge left you gasping for breath. You weren't built for prolonged agility, but you had endurance—and you had sheer stubborn willpower.

Then, you slipped.

The enemy's blade sliced into your arm. A sharp, burning pain shot through you. You hissed, staggering back. Aguni immediately intercepted the next strike, his eyes flashing with something—anger? Worry?

"You alright?" he barked, never taking his eyes off the enemy.

"Just a scratch," you gritted out, ignoring the sting.

Aguni's frown deepened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he adjusted his grip and lunged again.

It took every ounce of effort, but you finally won. A well-timed distraction allowed Aguni to land the killing blow. The enemy crumpled. The game was over.

The card materialized in the center of the room. Neither of you moved, still catching your breath.

Then, Aguni turned to you, his gaze immediately landing on your wounded arm. Before you could dismiss it, he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against the torn fabric.

"You should've dodged that."

"I'd like to see you dodge everything when you're built like me," you shot back, offering a tired grin. His lips twitched—almost a smirk.

The journey back to the Beach was silent. But after a while, Aguni suddenly stopped the car, leading you inside a pharmacy, before gripping your wrist firmly.

"Sit."

"What?"

"Your arm."

"It's fine—"

"Sit." His voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument.

With a sigh, you obeyed. He crouched in front of you, rummaging through his pack before carefully cleaning the wound. His hands were surprisingly gentle.

"You're weirdly nice right now," you mused.

Aguni rolled his eyes, pressing the bandage against your skin a little harder. You hissed.

"Alright, alright, I take it back."

"Tch." He shook his head, but his touch lingered a little longer than necessary.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

"You should take better care of yourself," he murmured.

You smiled. "Guess that means you’ll have to look out for me now."

He exhaled sharply—almost a laugh.

Then, he offered you a hand. You took it without hesitation.

As you walked back together, something had changed. A quiet understanding. A bond forged in survival, growing into something more.

Masterlist

[nicolejones412]

Out of Sync Part 7

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You've found yourself with the 107th fighting Hydra, where you meet a handsome Sergeant. But something just isn't right.

A/N: Two chapters in two days! I really should probably be spreading these out to buy time for if/when I run out of steam, but I don't have that kind of impulse control. Again I don't have a ton to say about this one, other than buckle up and enjoy!

Read Part 1 here. Read Part 2 here. Read Part 3 here. Read Part 4 here. Read Part 5 here. Read Part 6 here.

FIC:

"So wait, are you trying to tell me that you're my..." You trailed off, not really wanting to say the word or be wrong.

"The genetic match is consistent with that of a paternity test."

You sat back in your chair, staring into nothing.

"But that's not possible." You'd found yourself saying that a lot lately though.

"I know. Perhaps there is a version of me in your universe."

"But if I have the X gene I got it from you," you countered. "And as far as I'm aware it doesn't - you don't exist where I'm from."

"Perhaps." He sighed, obviously considering asking something.

"Do you have any memory of your mother?"

You exhaled, calling up the few memories you did have. You were able to recall her face well enough. You still heard her voice on occasion. You were seven years old when she died, so it had been a while but not so long that she'd completely faded.

You didn't say another word. You just nodded and opened your mind to him.

There was elegance in how quickly the professor could locate these memories, especially as you recalled them. He took you on the journey with him, and you both relived one of your most cherished memories.

Your mother singing you a lullaby.

It was a simple, commonly known one. You Are My Sunshine to be exact.

You opened your eyes and looked at the professor, who was staring at you in disbelief, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"What was your mother's name?"

You sighed. "I don't actually know her given name. She always went by Grace Y/L/N after some incident that landed her in some form witness protection. I tried to find out, but everything was sealed and buried or burned."

He let out a shaky breath. "When I knew her, she called herself Alexandra Hope. Or Alex for short."

"You're sure you knew her? That specific woman?"

The professor shook his head. "All this time I wondered why she disappeared. No word or warning. Just like when she'd arrived in my life."

He went on to explain that around six years ago, he had met Alexandra, and they had fallen in love. She was a bit of a mystery to him. Purposely so. He'd wanted to get to know her without reading her mind. They spent nearly a year together, and then one day she just disappeared. Once he'd gotten Cerebro, he'd tried to find her, but it was no use. She didn't seem to be anywhere. At one point he used a CIA contact to try to find any record of her, and it was like she never existed.

"So she was from my universe, somehow ended up here, and after getting pregnant she left?"

The professor shrugged. "It's the theory that has made the most sense in the last five years." He wiped his eyes. "I apologize Y/N, I'm not sure I'm in the best way for a lesson today."

You nodded, not sure what to do. You finally landed on going to get some fresh air to give you both time to think.

Hours passed. You'd walked out into the woods surrounding the property. Your mind was reeling and you felt like you had to do something, so since you wouldn't be practicing telepathy today, you chose to focus on your time travel powers, choosing different animals or clouds in the spring air to track as you turned time back 5, 10, 30 seconds at a time.

It wasn't long before you were spent and you plopped down at the base of a tree. You were definitely improving, if only a little. You could make it a few more seconds, be just a bit more precise.

If only you'd had this time to practice before the airport. Before Rhodes.

Your mind wandered from your own world shaking revelation to them. Your old team.

Rhodes. Tony. Vision. Wanda. Nat. Sam. Steve. Bucky.

Of course I'll come back.

That was what you'd said, but how were you supposed to get back when it seemed the literal universe had spat you out.

They were probably worried sick right now. And here you were, just having a family reunion.

You hoped that the team had found the weapons. And you knew that Shuri and Bucky would continue to make progress. In both cases you had pointed them in the right direction, and they were more than capable of handling the rest.

What about Clint? How were he and the kids? You weren't the only spending time with family. You chuckled at that thought.

As the sun got closer to the horizon, you decided it was time to head back.

You wondered what Charles was going through. You at least knew you had a dad out there somewhere, now suddenly he has a daughter show up out of nowhere who is more than a decade older than she should be. You wondered if he'd try to talk to you tonight, or if he was trying to give you space and he would reach out. Did you even want him to reach out? Were you ready to have that conversation?

Who were you kidding? Of course you were ready. You were an orphan finding her father who never knew she existed because of some interdimensional incident.

Before you could decide what to do, you saw him, sitting in his chair staring out over the pond.

Most everyone had gone inside for dinner at this point, so you walked up, sitting on a bench next to him.

After a moment of silence, he pointed across the water.

"My grandfather planted that tree when he was five years old."

You nodded, staring across at it.

"I guess the point I'm trying to make is that this land has been in my family for generations. And I suppose I always assumed that one day I would have children and it would go to them. And then this school became a reality and - oh where was I going with this?" He took a deep breath.

"I am trying very terribly to apologize for my reaction earlier today. Finding out you have a child, who isn't even a child, in fact is hardly younger than yourself and especially when that brings closure to something you thought you would never...and then that closure doesn't exactly help like you thought it would..."

"It's alright," you cut in, turning to him. "I get it. You had a lot of information to take in and your world turned upside down. I've been getting used to that feeling recently."

He nodded, meeting your gaze. "That you have."

You fell back into silence as you both looked out over the water again.

"Who all knows?"

"Just Hank. It's a bit of a hard one to explain."

You nodded and allowed a smirk to cross your face.

"Well I guess we know where I get my incredible talent from."

Charles laughed dryly. "That we do. And you are incredible, Y/N. Extraordinary in every way." He looked down at the ground.

"I know you don't really need a father, nor am I truly ready to be one," he took one of your hands in both of his as he lifted his gaze to find yours, "but I would like to help you where I can. As a tutor and as a friend."

You felt the tears welling in your eyes, and you squeezed his hands.

"I'd like that very much." You both chuckled as tears filled both of your eyes.

"Well then, we'd better go get dinner."

You nodded, standing and offering to push his chair back to the house.

"So what? Do I call you Dad now?"

He laughed out loud. "I'm not sure either of us is ready for that, but Charles will be fine."

-

May 14, 1967

"Remember I expect your reports on Frankenstein Monday morning. Now go on I don't have to read your minds to know you're ready to get out in the sunshine."

It had rained for nearly a week and the students jumped up at the chance to finally enjoy some nice weather. You sighed and sat down at your desk, sorting through your files.

"Good day?" Charles asked as he rolled in. You nodded.

"Holding their attention was difficult but I can't blame them."

"The students aren't the only ones whose attention is adrift." You stood and moved to put some books on your shelf.

"I'm fine, really."

"I don't have to read your mind to know you're lying. Do you think I don't know what day it is?"

Of course I know what day it is but I'd rather just ignore it.

And you are doing a brilliant job at that, are you?

You both knew you weren't. Month after month, year after year you had grown to accept that this might just be your home now. You, Hank, and Charles had all tried to figure out how to get you back home, but without being able to replicate the event there was no way to know how it happened in the first place, let alone how to make it happen again.

"Well, as that was your last class of the day, I'd say this calls for a drink." You nodded and followed Charles into the halls to his study, where he kept a stash of the good stuff.

"So, what exactly is on your mind today?"

You swirled the liquid in your glass. What exactly were you missing about how today?

"I'm just worried," you started. "Some sort of planet ending threat tends to pop up every couple of years, so I'm worried for my friends." You took a long sip.

"And I miss the internet."

"Ah yes," Charles chuckled.

You'd given up on trying to explain the tension you were under to him about a year in. He insisted that he understood. Two things could be true. You could enjoy being here and learning and teaching and getting to know the family you didn't know you had, and you could miss the one you did know.

The more time that passed, the more you wondered if this would be just as hard for you to leave behind as everything else.

"You don't have to feel guilty for being happy. You know that right?" You nodded, not wanting to admit out loud that he had accurately diagnosed that particular emotion.

How could you be considering not going home? What if they needed you?

But what if you were needed here too?

You decided you were done thinking about that and changed the subject.

It wasn't necessarily the typical father-daughter relationship, but you were grateful to have it.

The evening passed, and at some point you were joined by Hank (you were still getting used to him not being blue), and Alex.

A wonderful way to spend the anniversary of the world turning upside down.

-

You woke up in a cold sweat. Your dream hadn't necessarily been scary, but it was disturbing.

You couldn't remember all of it, but you clearly remembered the last moment.

Steve, dropping to his knees and saying "Oh God."

You didn't dream of home often, and rarely was it so...vivid.

You felt a pain in your stomach and groaned.

Must've been the whiskey.

As you got up, the moon still high in the sky, you realized you were mistaken.

Charles! you screamed in your mind, hoping to wake him up. His room wasn't far from yours.

Y/N? he even sounded groggy in his mind. What's happening?

It's happening again. I think I'm leaving.

Leaving? What are you-? Oh! He didn't even have to ask if you were choosing to. Your mind was awash with fear.

Charles pressed into your mind, taking note of everything, and even though you knew he wasn't physically standing there, you were grateful for the image he tricked your brain into seeing as the tugging and pain increased.

Y/N, listen to me. You need to stop fighting this. You'll be alright, but I feel what you're feeling and it's going to tear you in two.

But...but I-

I know. I love you, and I believe you will find us again.

You blinked and Charles was gone.

So was your room. You looked around, and realized it was nighttime. You were standing on a damp city street in your pajamas. You frantically reached up to your neck, finding the simple X necklace which Charles had given you on your first birthday there.

You were drained. Conscious this time, but drained. You didn't have it in you to figure out where you were. You just got into an alley sat on the ground and cried.

"Excuse me?" a woman asked as she approached you. You quickly skimmed her thoughts, trying to see if there were any clues to where you were, or if she was a threat.

Oh the poor dear, she's got to be freezing. I wonder when she last ate. This really isn't my best idea but I can't just leave her here.

"Are you alright?" she asked, stepping closer.

"Yes, um, well, no. I seem to have gotten myself lost."

She looked you up and down as she pulled off her coat. "It would appear so! Here, take this."

You decided now was the time to sort out where and when you were, as non-suspiciously as possible.

This woman's hair and clothes implied you were further back than before. Great.

"Well, I know you don't know me, but you really shouldn't be out on the street. Come on let's get you warmed up and fed."

"Oh I couldn't possibly-"

"Yes you can, come on now."

You relented, exhaustion hitting you like a truck.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. My name is Peggy by the way. Peggy Carter."

You had to keep yourself from holding your mouth agape. No way you were standing in front of the Peggy Carter.

The silence got awkward before you realized she was waiting for your name. You panicked, deciding it might be better to give a false name this time.

"Charlotte. Charlotte Grace."

-

When you got to her apartment, you passed out quickly on the couch. You didn't have time or energy to stress about anything right now.

You were shocked that when you awoke, the sun wasn't up yet. Peggy was still fast asleep. You took a deep breath, weighing your options.

You decided the easiest way might actually be best this time.

So, you dove into her mind, getting all the information you could. Today was March 23rd, 1942. Tomorrow she was going to meet with Dr. Erskine and join the SSR. You even searched her mind to find a cover story she might actually believe about you being outside alone in the cold.

Everything in her mind pointed to the idea that you might actually be in your home timeline, just in the past. There was no way to no for sure at this point, so you settled on a plan.

You started placing barriers, just like Charles had taught you, but this time in your own mind.

You would trick yourself into believing that you were in fact Charlotte Grace. Trying to keep us much of it true as possible, you decided that you had traveled from upstate. You were supposed to meet someone (can't just be someone, who is he?) an old friend of your father's, who had passed away. But it turned out this friend had also passed recently, and so she found you after you'd been kicked out of your hotel because you ran out of money.

You filled in blanks in this new personality, and where you missed gaps you'd have to fill in with real life things. You having knowledge of the future could jeopardize everything, so it was better to play it safe.

You would be Charlotte Grace, a strange, unlucky human girl who had no super powers, and you'd have a back door in your subconscious to wake you up. If things got too intense and you needed to wake up, your subconscious could always punch a way through.

You laid down, ready to go back to sleep for at least an hour before the sun came up.

When you woke up, you wouldn't remember anything, at least not in your conscious mind.

That should make it so you could keep your head down and not disturb anything too big.

Right?

-

Read Part 8 here.

A/N: I told you we'd be back! Really I have loved writing again and this idea has been in my head for years, so I can't believe I'm actually doing the dang thing. Hope you enjoy!

[strayheartless]

Zakkura Ideas from the games:

While playing through Remake and Rebirth there’s been a couple of scenes that I’ve thought about that have potential for sweet Zack lives Zakkura moments. So since I’m a lazy critter who’s currently knee deep in GenGeal week writing, have some ideas I may or may never use:

1. The first being the walk around sector seven. Tifa is showing them around, chatting animatedly with Zack who’s willing to be Clouds voice when he blanks a question. Then the weapons shop owner yells at Cloud, and Zack just watches the internal shutters slam down behind the blondes eyes. He’s about to snap back in Clouds defence but Cloud mutters “leave it” and walks out.

Again, when they go up to stargazer to see marle she insults Cloud. Zack can’t help the string of pure Rhapsodos grade poison that drip off of his tongue when Cloud defensivly says he’s doing his best. Zack snaps at Marle,

“and what would you know about his skills? No offence ma’am but you don’t know the first thing about Cloud and I’d ask you to watch your mouth when making sweeping statements about his abilities. I ain’t got no quarrel with a woman who knows her mind, but I do when that mind thinks it can belittle people on the virtue of their looks. Clouds got skill in buckets and just cause you ain’t got the time or inclination to learn, that ain’t his problem.”

Tifa’s speachless, Marles impressed, Clouds a little turned on by the thick Gongaga accent that snuck through in the middle there.

2. After Cloud falls into the church Zack goes looking for him. It takes hours but they finally bump into each other by the gates to sector seven. Zack is all at once relieved and mortified that Aerith saved him and hilarity ensues as Cloud mentions Aerith had some excellent stories to tell about dates gone wrong. “How come you never built me a cart for all the flowers you apparently bought from your secret girlfriend?”

“She wasn’t secret! You and I hadn’t met! Aerith and I only broke up after modeoheim!”

“Ah yes ‘sorry Aer, Angeal really messed me up, I gotta get my head straight before I can treat you right’ At least it wasn’t over the phone,” Aerith giggles.

“No fair no fair! It wasn’t like that! Cloud and I didn’t date for a year after Angeal died! I’m serious!”

Cloud and Aerith share a mischievous look. “Should we forgive him?”

“Na, make his suffer some more, maybe he’ll cry.”

Zack spends the rest of the evening at the mercy of their teasing.

3. The calm date, except it’s not Aerith and Cloud it’s Zack and Cloud. Clouds not got the issue of thinking he’s Zack in this AU so he remembers nibelhiem the way it was. Everyone in the group knows he wasn’t a soldier like Zack, but Cloud keeps getting these moments where he’ll forget any time has passed and ask what time their due back at the tower.

So they have a little debrief as they stare out at the town, and Cloud leans on Zack unexpectedly saying “thank you for taking care of me. I know I’m not what you signed up for,”. Zack immediately makes him turn to face him and is all like “sweetheart, no. Okay? We’re not doing that. We both went through hell, and just cause your brains taking a longer route to recovery doesn’t mean your not who I fell in love with, got it?”

Cloud gets all flustered and knocks his hands away, turning, but then whispers “you love me?” And Zack just grins, cause good he’d hoped Cloud picked that bit up.

4. Costa Del Sol, Zack lets Cloud wander on his own, cause he’s not as worried here. He himself goes wandering for some beams to patch the holes in their hotel rooms. When he’s done Jonny lends him some beach wear and he heads down to go cool off in the sea, only to find Cloud crouched over looking for sea glass.

“I’m putting my foot down at no more than three small pocket rocks Cloudy skies. We ain’t got the space for friends.”

Cloud stands and pushes a big bit of deep blue sea glass into Zack’s hands. “Here….” It’s all he gets before Clouds trying to escape but Zack catches him.

“You giving me pretty rocks is literally my favourite thing ever. You’re like a baby chocobo.” He gets kicked in the shin for that but he’ll take it. “Can I start calling you piko?” He gets punched in the stomach.

5. Corel mako reactor. The second Cloud nearly goes over Barret still catches him but Zack’s dictating what to do. He’s getting Cloud lane on his side, checking his pulse and eyes. When the others go to get the cart, Zack stays with Cloud, Aerith and Nanaki.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“He’s fine. As scary as it sounds this has happened before, I’ll carry him if he’s still sick.”

“When did it happen before?”

“After the lab… told you we were there five years.”

“You never said what happened.”

“Bit o’ this, bit o’ that.”

“But what?”

“Torture Aerith. They tortured him.”

“You mean ‘us’?”

“Whatever… Cloud seemed to take the brunt of it. Never did find out why.”

6. Golden saucer. Zack comes to check on Cloud and finds him sleepy and a little vulnerable.

“You feeling better enough to go win me a chocobo, chocobo?”

“I’m better enough to kick you off the bed for the name.”

They go round holding hands and taking it slow. They’re not hurrying, just having a date. They find Tifa and Aerith hiding together and give eachother knowing looks. Then just before Cait Sith appears to ruin everyone’s day, Cloud asks if they can just sit for a bit and just be together. It’s a sweet moment.

7. Zack head butting a guard to try and get to Cloud in Corel Prison. Cloud telling him to just trust him. Zack still having a bit of PTSD induced rage as they’re taken.

[arianna-bradshaw]

The Afterburn

Summary: Some fires never go out. They just wait for the right spark.

When Y/N returns to Miramar after years away, she isn’t expecting to find comfort in the place that broke her heart. And she damn sure isn’t expecting Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw — the boy she left behind — to still burn just as hot in her veins.

TW: Sexual Content, Alcohol, Daddy Kink, etc.

WC: 9,056

__________________________________________

Ever since her dad passed, and her mom packed up their life to move across the country- far from any reminders, far from any support system- Y/n longed to find her way back to the military community. She was a military kid through and through, her memories scattered with the sounds of jet engines, salty beaches, rowdy Navy cookouts, and most of all, her dad’s friends. Her family. Her aunts and uncles in uniform.

When her father died unexpectedly, everything shattered. Her mother was evicted from base housing, and civilian life came crashing down around them. They moved to Virginia, the place where her parents had first met, but it never felt like home. Fightertown was home. Fightertown was all Y/n had ever known until she was fourteen. Late nights past curfew at the beach, running barefoot in the sand, chasing fireflies while Bradley and his stand-in dad, Maverick, watched over her. She could never quite understand how Bradley survived losing his father, Goose, a man she only had faint memories of. But then it happened to her.

After her dad’s funeral, Y/n left California with a tearful hug for Bradley and Uncle Mav, promising she’d come back someday. And now, more than a decade later, here she was- standing in The Hard Deck, completely unaware of how much solace she’d find in this place. It had been too long.

The first thing she did was find Penny and ask for a job. The older woman had been thrilled to see her, wrapping her in a tight hug and declaring it was about time the kid came home. Maverick, she learned, had been stationed elsewhere, and many of her dad’s old squadron mates had moved on too. Still, Miramar felt the same. The air. The sunsets. The sound of jets screaming overhead.

It took a few weeks to get the hang of bartending- she’d never done it before, but Penny was patient and grateful to have her around. And for the first time in years, Y/n felt like herself again. Being back in the atmosphere of the Navy was grounding. She could feel her dad everywhere: in the salty air, in the roar of engines, in the camaraderie of the pilots who filled the bar every night.

One hot evening, with the scent of the Pacific drifting through the open windows, a group of fresh-faced Top Gun recruits burst through the doors, loud, laughing, their tan flight suits immaculate. Y/n smiled instinctively as she set up the bar, already grabbing a tray in anticipation of the onslaught of beer orders.

“What can I get for you?” she asked, her voice light as one of them, a blonde with an easy smirk, stepped up.

He glanced back at his squad and grinned. “How about… seven Bud Lights?”

Y/n arched a brow but nodded, collecting the bottles and a bottle opener. Sliding them onto a tray, she passed it over. “Think you guys can handle opening these yourselves?” she teased.

“Oh, sweetheart, I can handle a lot,” the cocky blonde winked, and she rolled her eyes with a small, amused shake of her head. Navy guys.

As she watched him swagger back toward his table, something- someone, caught her eye.

Her heart stuttered.

There he was.

Bradley Bradshaw.

She wasn’t surprised he’d followed his dad’s footsteps into the Navy, but she hadn’t expected to see him so soon- or to look so… grown. And, if she was honest, impossibly attractive. Her stomach twisted as recognition dawned across his face too.

Penny sidled up next to her, catching the look on Y/n’s face and grinning. “I was wondering when he’d show up,” she murmured, nudging her with a shoulder.

Y/n groaned, rubbing her face. “You knew!”

“Of course I knew.” Penny laughed. “C’mon, kid- we all used to say you two were destined.”

It was true. When they were seven, they’d walked the beach holding hands. Bradley had been her first kiss- her first boyfriend. Seeing him now, older, broader, with a uniform and that infamous Bradshaw mustache…

When she looked up again, they locked eyes. Bradley froze mid-reach for his beer before abandoning it entirely, crossing the bar in three long strides. “Y/L/N?!” His voice was incredulous, grinning from ear to ear. “Is that really you?”

Y/n ducked out from behind the bar before she could stop herself, letting out a delighted laugh as he scooped her up into a bear hug. “The one and only,” she teased, cheeks flushing.

He set her down, holding her at arm’s length like he still couldn’t believe it. “Damn… you- you look good.”

Her eyes flicked up to his face, and she grinned, teasing, “And you’ve got the Bradshaw Porn Stache now? No way.”

Bradley turned his face side to side, showing it off proudly. “Wouldn’t be a Bradshaw without it.”

“Well… it actually looks good on you,” she admitted with a small shrug, still blushing. Y/n swallowed, feeling suddenly, stupidly shy. “I should get back to work. Penny’ll have my head.”

“Yeah, no- of course.” He grabbed her hand gently as she turned away, making her heart skip. “Uh- when do you get off tonight?”

She hesitated. “About an hour.”

A slow, hopeful grin spread across his face. “Can I… take you for a drive after? Catch up. It’s been too long.”

Y/n nodded before her brain could even catch up with her mouth. “I’d like that.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze and let her go, and she ducked back behind the bar, face burning, as Penny smirked at her knowingly.

“Oh, shut up,” Y/n muttered, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. She was home. And for the first time in years, everything felt right.

The hour passed in a blur. Y/n barely registered the drink orders, the conversations, or the teasing from Penny. Every time she glanced toward the recruits’ table, her eyes found Bradley’s and every time, he was already looking at her.

When Penny finally nudged her and nodded toward the door, Y/n slipped off her apron, grabbed her keys, and stepped out into the balmy night air. The sun had just disappeared behind the horizon, leaving streaks of pink and orange fading over the Pacific. She barely had time to appreciate it before she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Hey.” She turned to see Bradley leaning against a beat-up Bronco- not the sleek, government-issued truck she half-expected, but an old, rebuilt one that still had a little rust on the bumper. Very Bradley Bradshaw.

“Nice ride,” she teased, crossing her arms.

He shrugged, grinning. “She’s old, but she’s mine.”

“Sounds about right.”

He opened the passenger door for her, and she raised a brow. “Gentleman now, too?”

“Only for you, Y/L/N.” She slid into the seat, the familiar smell of old leather and saltwater filling her nose. The car rumbled to life as he started it, and without a word, they pulled out of the lot, the wind whipping through the open windows.

For a while, neither of them spoke. They drove down the coast, the ocean a dark stretch beside them, the radio playing low classic rock. It felt easy. Natural. Like no time had passed at all. “So,” Bradley broke the silence after a few minutes. “How long you been back?”

“Few months,” she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Got in, went straight to The Hard Deck, begged Penny for a job.”

He laughed softly. “You always did have good instincts.”

“And you? Top Gun, huh?” She glanced at him, unable to keep the pride out of her voice.

He smirked but didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Yeah. Made it in last year. Been… a hell of a ride.”

“I’m not surprised.” She smiled. “Your dad would’ve lost his mind, you know. So damn proud.”

Bradley’s jaw tightened just a little, and he nodded. “I hope so.”

Y/n reached over, resting her hand over his briefly. “He would.”

Their eyes met for a moment before she pulled away, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be.” He smiled softly. “It’s good to have someone around who remembers.” They kept driving until he pulled off onto a stretch of beach, tires crunching over sand-packed dirt. He cut the engine, and for a moment they just sat there, the sound of waves crashing filling the space between them.

“Same spot we used to sneak out to,” he said with a grin.

“No way,” she laughed, opening the door and stepping out. The night air was cool, and the ocean breeze carried a hint of salt. The stars above them were brighter here, away from the town’s glow.

Bradley rounded the car and stood beside her. “I figured it was only right.” She smiled, her heart tight in her chest as the memories came rushing back, stolen candy, makeshift bonfires, promises whispered under the stars.

“It hasn’t changed a bit,” she said.

“You have,” he murmured. She looked up at him, her breath catching. The playful glint in his eyes was still there, but there was something deeper now. Something older. Something real.

“Is that a bad thing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not even a little.” Before she could stop herself, she leaned in, and for a second, it felt like they were kids again, stealing another first kiss. But this time, it was different. This time, it meant something.

Their lips met, soft and tentative at first, then deeper, both of them chasing years of what-ifs in that one kiss. When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

“I missed you, Y/L/N.”

“I missed you too, Bradshaw.”

He grinned. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not letting you disappear again.” And with the sound of waves and old rock music in the background, Y/n realized maybe, just maybe, she was exactly where she was meant to be.

They lingered there for a moment, the sound of the ocean wrapping around them like a secret. Neither one of them spoke, not because there was nothing to say, but because everything that mattered had already been said with that kiss.

Bradley finally cleared his throat, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wanna sit for a while?”

Y/n smiled, nodding. “Yeah.”

He grabbed a blanket from the backseat of the Bronco, faded navy blue, probably older than either of them, and spread it out on the sand. She kicked off her shoes and sat down beside him, pulling her knees up to her chest as the waves crashed a few yards away.

The stars were impossibly bright out here, the air cool but not cold. It smelled like salt, seaweed, and memories. Bradley leaned back on his elbows, watching the sky. “God, I missed this.”

“Me too,” she whispered, glancing over at him.

For a while, they just sat in the quiet. The low hum of classic rock still drifted from the Bronco’s open windows, mixing with the sound of the surf. Y/n let her head tip back, feeling the breeze in her hair, her pulse still slightly unsteady from the kiss.

“You remember that one night,” he started, his voice soft, “when we were, what- eight? Nine? We snuck out here with those gross chocolate bars from your kitchen?”

Y/n laughed. “Yeah. And you swore the stars looked brighter if you laid down in the sand and let the waves almost reach you.”

He grinned. “I was a weird kid.”

“You were a great kid.”

Bradley looked over at her, his expression softer now. “You were my best friend, Y/n. You know that, right?”

She met his gaze, her throat tightening. “Yeah,” she whispered. “You were mine too.”

His hand found hers in the dark, fingers brushing, then curling around hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. She let him. It felt good. Right. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch,” he admitted after a while. “I should’ve.”

“I could’ve too,” she replied honestly. “It… hurt too much. Everything about this place did, for a long time.”

Bradley nodded, squeezing her hand. “I get that.”

The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy in a way that felt earned, two people carrying the same kind of grief, the same ghosts. After a minute, he glanced at her, a crooked smile on his face. “So, I gotta ask…”

“Hmm?”

“You seeing anyone?”

She snorted. “Jesus, Bradshaw.”

“What?” he laughed, hands up in mock surrender. “A guy’s gotta know his odds.”

She rolled her eyes, grinning. “No. Not really.”

His brow lifted. “Not really?”

Y/n shrugged, looking out at the ocean. “There’s been people. But no one that mattered.”

Bradley let out a breath. “Good.”

She turned to him, smirking. “Good?”

He shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “Yeah. ‘Cause if I get my way… no one’s gonna have a shot after tonight.”

Her heart did that stupid fluttering thing again. “You always this smooth, Lieutenant?”

“Only when it counts.”

And before she could fire back a witty retort, he leaned in again, catching her lips with his. This kiss wasn’t tentative, it was slow, deep, a little rough around the edges like Bradley always had been. His hand slid to her cheek, the other braced in the sand, and she felt herself melting against him like muscle memory.

She gasped softly when he tilted her back onto the blanket, his body half hovering over hers, the weight of him familiar and foreign all at once. His lips moved to the curve of her jaw, then down her neck, and she felt her pulse stutter.

“Bradley…” she murmured, her fingers threading into his hair.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes dark in the starlight. “We can stop. Just tell me.”

Y/n searched his face- her best friend, her ghost of Fightertown past, and the man now laying over her, and realized she didn’t want to stop. Not tonight. Not when the stars were out, the waves were crashing, and nothing else mattered.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered.

Bradley grinned- that same boyish grin she’d known her whole life, but tempered now with something heavier. “Good.”

And with that, the space between them disappeared again. The rest of the world fell away- the years apart, the ache of lost parents and broken homes- and for the first time in a long time, Y/n felt whole.

In a hushed voice he spoke, "Do you wanna head back to mine."

Y/n nodded before she could even let herself think about it. Bradley grabbed her hand, pulling her up, shaking out the sandy blanket and tossing it into the back of the Bronco.

The drive was quiet but electric. The salty air rushed through the open windows, soft rock humming from the radio. Y/n leaned out slightly, letting the breeze cool her flushed cheeks. Her nerves were frayed in the best way- this was so familiar, so easy. But this… this wasn’t something they’d ever done before. Not really. Nothing past those clumsy makeouts in Carole’s basement when they were fourteen. Now it felt heavier, hotter. Her heart was pounding.

She reached out and gently took his hand over the center console. He gave a soft squeeze, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. It felt like coming home. When they pulled into the driveway, Y/n let out a quiet gasp.

“You have your mom’s house?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bradley nodded, offering a shy smile. “Yeah… it was mine after I turned eighteen. Mav and I lived here for a while. Until-” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Until I joined.”

She nodded, sensing the tension just beneath the words. She didn’t push. He unlocked the front door and pushed it open, and she was instantly hit by the scent, the familiar mix of sea air, worn wood, and something faintly sweet she remembered from a lifetime ago. The living room looked almost untouched from how she recalled it. The same photos on the walls. The same couch where they’d watched movies and fallen asleep during late-night game nights. It punched something tender in her chest.

Carole.

Y/n swallowed hard, guilt swelling in her throat. She’d never forgiven herself for not making it to the funeral, for not reaching out. She should have scraped together whatever she could, should have called, should have done something. The weight of it lingered.

Then, Bradley was there- his hand cupping her jaw, pulling her into a kiss that was nothing like the ones they’d shared as kids. This was soft but insistent, stealing her breath and pushing everything else out of her head. Carole. The years apart. The ache. All of it gone.

She let out a quiet moan when his hand slid to her waist, her tank top riding up so his palm could find warm, bare skin. His fingers gripped tighter, walking her back until she felt the wall at her spine. The living room swam in her periphery- all she could focus on was the heat of him, the familiar scent of salt and aftershave, and the way his lips traced down her neck.

“Do you want this?” he growled against her skin, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below her ear. She nodded quickly, her nails trailing over his shoulders.

But he stilled, pulling back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark, voice rough. “I need to hear it, angel.” God, the way he said it made her stomach twist. The rasp in his voice, the way his control barely held on.

“Yes, Bradley,” she gasped, face flushed, meeting his gaze. “I want it.”

His smirk was slow, almost dangerous. “Good girl.” She barely had time to process the words before his mouth was back on hers, his kisses deeper now, hungrier. His hands slid down, hooking into the waistband of her shorts, lips moving from her jaw down to her collarbone. Y/n arched into him, chasing every touch, every scrape of stubble against her skin.

Somewhere in the haze, she realized this was exactly how it was always meant to be. And this time, she wasn’t going to run.

He didn’t break the kiss as he backed her down the hallway, his hands on her hips guiding her like he’d been waiting years for this exact moment. She stumbled slightly, her back bumping against a wall, and he chuckled against her lips- that low, rough sound sending a shiver straight through her.

“Bedroom’s this way, angel,” he murmured, his voice a little breathless now too. Y/n followed without hesitation, heart pounding against her ribs. The house was dim, lit only by the moonlight pouring through the windows, and every step felt heavier, charged. By the time they reached the doorway, she wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline or the need making her legs shake.

He pushed open the door, and the room was exactly as she remembered it, familiar furniture, a worn baseball cap hanging off the bedpost, the same battered dresser. But the air felt different now, heavier.

Bradley turned to her, his eyes flickering over her face like he was committing every detail to memory. Then, without a word, he reached for the hem of her tank top, giving her a silent chance to stop him. She didn’t.

Y/n lifted her arms, letting him tug it off, leaving her bare from the waist up. The way his eyes darkened, the way his tongue swiped across his bottom lip, it made her knees weak.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, stepping in, his hands sliding up her sides, calloused palms a little rough against her skin. He cupped her face again, kissing her softer this time, but it carried a weight behind it, years of what-ifs.

His mouth moved down her throat, trailing over her collarbone, to the swell of her breast. She gasped when his tongue flicked against her skin, her nails biting into his shoulders. “Bradley…” she whispered, not even sure what she was asking for.

He didn’t stop, didn’t pause; he only worked the button of her shorts loose, sliding them down her legs, leaving her standing there in nothing but lace and nerves. She barely had time to feel self-conscious before he was pulling his own shirt off, revealing sun-warmed skin, broad shoulders, and the kind of body Navy pilots were apparently required to have.

Her stomach tightened. Goddamn.

She reached out, her fingers trailing over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm. “You sure?” he asked, voice low, his hand covering hers.

She met his eyes. “I’m sure.” That was all it took.

Bradley kissed her hard, walking her backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She fell back onto the mattress, a soft gasp escaping her as he climbed over her, his mouth never leaving hers for long.

When his lips traveled lower, she arched up, her back bowing off the bed as his hands slid over every inch of her, taking his time, like he needed to relearn her. “Always knew you’d grow up to wreck me,” he rasped against her skin.

She whimpered, threading her fingers into his hair, tugging him back up to kiss her again. “Then what are you waiting for, Bradshaw?”

That grin. That cocky, crooked, goddamn Bradley Bradshaw grin. “Good girl.”

Then he was done waiting. The rest of their clothes hit the floor in a tangle, and the moment his body pressed fully against hers, skin to skin, it wasn’t just heat- it was something deeper, something old and aching and new all at once. He moved inside her slowly at first, letting her adjust, one hand laced with hers above her head, the other gripping her thigh. The stretch, the fullness, the weight of him- it made her gasp, and Bradley groaned against her neck.

“Jesus, Y/n… you feel so fucking good.”

She clung to him, nails digging into his shoulder blades as his pace built, each thrust pulling soft, breathless moans from her lips. It wasn’t frantic or messy- it was controlled, purposeful, like he was making up for every year they’d missed.

“Say you’re mine,” he growled, his teeth grazing her ear.

“I’m yours, Bradley,” she gasped, hips tilting to meet him. “Always have been.”

He kissed her hard, swallowing her sounds as his control frayed, thrusts growing rougher, deeper. Y/n could barely catch her breath, pleasure coiling sharp and fast in her stomach, building with every pass of his mouth over her skin, every possessive grip of his hands.

When she came, it was with a sharp cry, her entire body tensing beneath him, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. Bradley wasn’t far behind, a low curse ripped from his throat as he buried his face against her neck, hips stuttering. He held her tight as he followed her over the edge, their bodies tangled and slick with sweat, the only sounds in the room their ragged breaths and the faint crash of waves through the open window.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Finally, Bradley shifted, pressing a soft, almost tender kiss to her shoulder before rolling to his side, dragging her with him. He didn’t let go- one arm still wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to him.

Y/n lay there, her face buried in the crook of his neck, heart still racing. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t heavy. It was easy. Familiar. And for the first time in years, she felt like she could breathe.

“Don’t disappear again,” he murmured against her hair.

She smiled, eyes fluttering shut. “Not a chance.” And in the soft hush of the room, with Bradley Bradshaw’s arms around her, Y/n finally, finally felt like she was home.

The next morning was a mix of whispered words, and brewed coffee. The knock came before either of them were fully awake.

Bradley groaned. Y/n snickered, slipping on a pair of his sweatpants and tightening the drawstring as Bradley reluctantly trudged to the door. He barely cracked it open.

“Unless it’s a national emergency or you’re bleeding out, come back in a few hours,” he grumbled.

“I’ll be quick,” came Phoenix’s voice from the other side, sharp and amused. “But considering everyone saw your truck parked at the beach last night and then it didn’t move, I had to see for myself.”

Bradley groaned and pulled the door open, revealing Natasha Trace, Y/n recognized her from working at the Hard Deck, sunglasses perched on top of her head, coffee in hand, a wicked grin on her face. And then she spotted Y/n.

“Well, well,” Phoenix drawled, looking between the two of them like she’d just won a bet. “Morning, Y/n.”

Y/n sighed, crossing her arms, though she couldn’t keep the small smile off her face. “Morning,”

Natasha took one look at the oversized shirt Y/n was wearing, unmistakably Bradley’s, and smirked. “Cute look.”

Bradley sighed, rubbing his face. “Can’t a guy have one damn morning without the peanut gallery showing up?”

“No,” Phoenix answered cheerfully, stepping fully inside. “Not when you sneak off with a girl the entire squad thought only existed in your childhood stories and then conveniently forget to mention she’s back in town and in your bed.”

Y/n blushed, but there was something about Natasha’s teasing that felt easy, like an unspoken welcome back into the fold. “Okay, for the record,” Y/n said, hopping back up onto the counter and taking another sip of coffee, “I’ve been back for months. And I wasn’t exactly planning on… this.”

Phoenix raised a brow. “Uh huh.”

Bradley pointed a finger at her. “You tell a single one of them—”

“Oh please, they’ll figure it out by lunch.” She grinned.

Y/n groaned. “God. Penny’s gonna tease me to death.”

“Penny’s known for two weeks Bradley was back,” Phoenix said with a shrug, leaning against the counter. “Bet she’s thrilled you finally pulled your head out of your ass.”

Bradley gave an unrepentant grin. “Yeah, well… about time, huh?”

Y/n shook her head, grinning. It was ridiculous, chaotic, and exactly the kind of morning she didn’t know she’d missed so much.

“Alright,” Phoenix sighed, grabbing a handful of cereal from the box on the counter. “I’ll leave you two alone. But Bradshaw- you owe me a round later for not blowing this up in front of the guys.”

Bradley laughed. “Deal.”

“And you,” Natasha pointed at Y/n with a wink, “you better be at The Hard Deck tonight. It’s wing night, and I wanna see how much you can still drink.”

“Count on it,” Y/n grinned.

Phoenix gave them both one last look, shaking her head with a smirk as she let herself out. When the door clicked shut, Bradley groaned, leaning against the counter.

“Never gonna hear the end of this.”

Y/n slid off the counter and stood in front of him, smirking. “Could be worse.”

“Oh yeah?” he grinned, pulling her against him.

She stood on her toes, kissing him softly. “Yeah. You could still be sleeping alone.”

He let out a laugh, resting his forehead against hers. “Fair point.”

And for a moment, with the sunlight streaming in and the last of the coffee growing cold, everything felt simple. Easy. Right. “C’mon,” he murmured, squeezing her waist. “We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

“Can’t wait.”

And they both knew- as much as the teasing would come, so would the warmth, the belonging. Because she was back. And this time, she wasn’t going anywhere.

The Hard Deck was packed that night, humid air thick with sweat, laughter, and the scent of fried food. The jukebox cranked out old-school rock, pool balls clacked on the worn tables, and the place buzzed with the kind of energy that only happened when a squad of Top Gun pilots had the next day off.

Y/n leaned against the bar, fresh drink in hand, laughing at something Penny said when the door swung open and the squad rolled in. Hangman was first, of course- sunglasses indoors, even at night- followed by Coyote, Fanboy, and Phoenix.

And then Bradley.

He spotted her instantly, his face lighting up for half a second before his jaw clenched, his gaze flicking to the man at her side. Y/n smirked to herself.

Game on.

Hangman was already at her elbow, leaning a little too close, his usual cocky grin in place. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite bartender,” Jake drawled, lifting his drink in salute. “You look good, darlin’. Real good.”

Y/n laughed, leaning back against the bar. “Careful, Seresin. I've seen the trouble you make here.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve only gotten started.”

She grinned, letting him get away with it because she could already feel Bradley’s glare burning into the side of her face. She didn’t even have to look. The tension in the room shifted the moment Hangman sidled up to her. Jake didn’t miss it either. Of course he didn’t.

He turned slightly, his shoulder brushing hers as he kept his voice low. “So tell me, Y/n- any chance a guy like me could steal you away for a dance before old Bradshaw over there implodes?”

Y/n let out a soft laugh, taking a slow sip of her drink, eyes meeting Bradley’s over Hangman’s shoulder. The storm brewing in those hazel eyes was enough to make her stomach flip. She tilted her head, smiling sweetly. “I don’t know, Jake. You’d have to ask him.”

Jake grinned, following her gaze and immediately catching the dagger look Bradley was sending him. “Ah,” Jake said with a wolfish grin, not the least bit intimidated. “Guess I struck a nerve.”

“More like a death wish,” Phoenix muttered, sliding up beside them with a beer in hand. “You’re playing with fire, Bagman.”

“That’s half the fun,” Hangman shot back, winking at Y/n. “Besides, no harm in a little friendly competition, right?”

Bradley didn’t wait. He stalked across the bar, shouldering his way through a cluster of pilots until he was standing between them. His hand landed possessively on Y/n’s lower back, tugging her subtly toward him.

“She’s not available,” Bradley said coolly, though his voice was tight, dangerously low. Y/n bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Hangman held up his hands, grinning like the smug bastard he was. “Easy, Bradshaw. Was just catching up with an old friend.”

“Catch up somewhere else,” Bradley snapped.

Y/n slid her hand along Bradley’s arm, fingers curling around his wrist. “Easy, Brad. He’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” Bradley scoffed, eyes never leaving Jake’s.

Phoenix just shook her head, sipping her beer. “For the love of God, you two have been in a pissing contest since ‘08.”

“Because he’s always pulling shit like this,” Bradley muttered, not taking his hand off Y/n.

Hangman chuckled, leaning back on his heels. “Relax, Bradshaw. You already won. No need to get territorial.”

“I’m not-” Bradley started, but Y/n cut him off with a kiss to his cheek.

“C’mon, Rooster,” she teased, voice soft enough for only him to hear. “Buy me a drink before you start a fight in the middle of Penny’s bar.” He clenched his jaw, then sighed, shooting one last glare at Jake before nodding.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” As he led her toward the other end of the bar, Y/n glanced back at Hangman, who tipped his imaginary hat to her with a smug grin. She couldn’t help but smirk. Shameless asshole.

When they reached a quieter corner, Bradley turned to her, eyes still dark, tension still humming beneath his skin. “You’re mine,” he muttered, his hand sliding to her hip.

Y/n arched a brow, savoring the way his voice dipped when he was jealous. “Always was.” He kissed her then, rough and claiming, right there in front of half the bar.

And no one- not even Hangman- interrupted them this time.

When Bradley finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, and Y/n could see the storm still simmering in his eyes.

“You trying to start a bar fight, Lieutenant?” she teased, her fingers idly tracing the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t test me, angel,” he muttered, lips brushing her ear. “I swear to God, the second he looked at you like that-”

She smirked, leaning into him. “Jealous much?”

His jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he admitted, no shame in his voice. “I don’t give a damn if it makes me an asshole. You’re mine, Y/n.”

God, the way he said it, voice low and possessive, sent heat racing through her veins. She couldn’t help it, she loved it. Loved that Bradley Bradshaw, calm, collected Navy aviator, could lose his cool over her. “Good,” she murmured, fingers sliding under the hem of his shirt, feeling the taut muscle beneath. “Because I kinda like when you get like this.”

He let out a dark, quiet laugh, his hand gripping her hip tighter. “You’re dangerous.”

“You have no idea.” He gave her a look, one she recognized- equal parts lust, mischief, and a promise. And then, without another word, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the back door, past the pool tables and squadmates who were far too interested in pretending not to notice.

“Skipping out already?” Phoenix called after them, smirking.

“Don’t wait up,” Y/n threw back over her shoulder, laughter bubbling in her throat as Bradley tugged her outside.

The night air was cooler now, the scent of the ocean stronger. The Hard Deck’s glow spilled out onto the sand, music still thumping inside. But out here, it was just them. Bradley backed her up against the side of the Bronco, both hands braced on either side of her, caging her in.

“Couldn’t take one more second of him looking at you like that,” he admitted, leaning in close, his voice rough against her ear.

Y/n smiled, eyes gleaming. “So what’re you gonna do about it, Lieutenant?”

His gaze darkened, one hand trailing up her thigh, under the hem of her dress. “I’m gonna remind you who you belong to.”

She let out a breathless laugh, tilting her head back against the cool metal of the Bronco. “I never forgot.”

He kissed her hard then- fierce, desperate, tasting of beer and want. Y/n’s hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, heat pooling low in her stomach.

“I should take you home,” he muttered against her lips.

“You should,” she agreed, breath hitching as his hand slid higher.

“But I really don’t wanna wait that long.”

“Then don’t.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead to hers. “Jesus, Y/n.”

“Been waiting on you, Bradshaw,” she whispered, lips brushing his. “What the hell took you so long?” That crooked grin of his returned, and he cupped her face, kissing her softer this time- slower, deeper, like he had all the time in the world to make up for.

“Not letting you go this time,” he promised.

“Good,” she murmured, her pulse pounding.

And with one last look- all fire and reckless affection, Bradley opened the passenger door for her, the unspoken invitation in his eyes. She slid in without hesitation, the night stretching out ahead of them like some endless, dangerous promise. And neither of them had any intention of playing it safe.

Bradley drove tensely, one hand gripping the wheel, the other possessively on her thigh. His fingers occasionally drifted up, skimming under the edge of her shorts, teasing her skin. Every time his touch inched higher, Y/n smirked to herself, loving the way she could unravel him without a word.

When they finally pushed through the door of his house, he wasted no time. Bradley’s hand came up to wrap around the back of her neck as he kissed her- rough, claiming, like he was done pretending this wasn’t inevitable.

“Let me know if this is too much,” he growled against her lips, squeezing her neck just enough to make her pulse jump. It wasn’t fear. It was pure, electric thrill, like he’d reached into her mind and found the exact place where her darkest wants lived.

Y/n’s breath hitched, eyes half-lidded as she nodded. That wicked grin flickered across his face, and his free hand came down hard on her ass with a sharp smack. She gasped, pleasure sparking through her veins, meeting his gaze as he stared down at her, waiting, daring her.

A wicked grin tugged at her lips. “Yes, daddy.”

Bradley sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening, the verge of a groan caught in his throat. Then he crushed his mouth to hers again, rougher this time, his hands grabbing her hips like he couldn’t get enough. In one fluid motion, he lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. She was a little stunned at his strength, her hands sliding over the flex of his biceps as he carried her down the hallway.

He kicked open the bedroom door, and before she could catch her breath, she was thrown onto the bed. She let out a breathless laugh, watching him strip his shirt off, the muscles in his chest and arms tight with barely held restraint. Bradley was on her in the next second, his mouth trailing kisses down her neck, over her chest, until he had both of her wrists pinned above her head with one hand. The other made quick work of unbuttoning her jean shorts.

Y/n was in a haze, every touch, every word pulling her deeper under. All those late-night fantasies, every one of them was real now, and he was doing it better than she’d ever imagined. She drew in a sharp breath when he let her wrists go, only to hook his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and underwear, tugging them down in one swift, practiced motion.

Bradley knelt between her thighs, eyes locked on the sight of her, the hunger in his expression so raw it made her stomach flip. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, dragging a single finger through her slick folds before bringing it to his mouth. He sucked it clean, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second like he was savoring it. “You taste so goddamn good, baby.”

Y/n let out a soft moan, biting her lip, her back arching when he gripped her hips, sliding his arms under her thighs. Then he buried his face between her legs.

His tongue was relentless, licking and sucking with practiced, hungry determination. Her moans filled the room, soft, breathless sounds punctuated by sharp gasps when he found every spot that made her legs shake. His stubble scratched at her sensitive skin, making it just a little rough, a little dirty; perfect.

“Bradley-” she whimpered, her fingers threading into his hair, hips rolling against his mouth. He groaned against her, the vibration making her gasp again as he slipped two thick fingers inside her, curling them just right, his mouth never leaving her clit.

“You’re so fucking sweet, angel,” he rasped, his voice wrecked with want as he worked her toward the edge. “Gonna make you come on my face. Need to feel you fall apart.”

Y/n was already close, her body tightening, every muscle wound tight as a spring as he pushed her higher, higher, until-

She shattered.

A strangled moan tore from her throat as her body arched off the bed, her hands fisting in his hair as she came hard, his name spilling from her lips in broken gasps. Bradley didn’t stop, riding it out, drinking down every sound she made like it was the only thing he needed.

When she finally collapsed against the sheets, chest heaving, he pulled back, his mouth slick and his eyes glazed with satisfaction. “Fuck, I missed you,” he murmured, crawling up her body to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his lips.

Y/n clung to him, heart pounding, knowing damn well they were nowhere near finished. And God, she didn’t want them to be.

Y/n was still catching her breath when Bradley leaned over her, his weight deliciously heavy against her body, lips trailing lazy, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw. But there was nothing patient in the way his hands moved - one cupping her breast, the other sliding down to her thigh, spreading her open again.

“You think I’m done with you, angel?” he murmured against her ear, his voice rough and wrecked, making her shiver.

She bit her lip, a teasing smile playing on her mouth as she tilted her head toward him. “Didn’t figure you for a quitter, Bradshaw.” His answering growl sent a pulse straight through her.

In a swift motion, he grabbed her wrists again, pinning them above her head, his hips settling between her thighs. She could feel him now, thick and hard, grinding against her soaked core through his jeans, and she moaned, arching up to meet him.

“Keep talking, baby,” he rasped, nipping at her neck. “I’ll make good on every single thing you’ve ever fantasized about.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her pulse racing. “You already are.” He kissed her, deep and bruising, then reached down to undo his belt, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself. Her eyes flicked down, and her stomach fluttered at the sight of him- thick, heavy, and already leaking at the tip.

Bradley caught the look and smirked. “You want this, angel?”

“God, yes,” she gasped, writhing beneath him.

He teased her first, running the head of his cock through her folds, gathering her slick and dragging it against her clit just to watch her squirm. “You’re already so wet for me,” he muttered, eyes dark. “This pussy’s mine now, Y/n.”

“Always was,” she whispered, her voice rough with want. That was all it took.

With one sharp, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside her, burying himself to the hilt. Y/n cried out, her back arching off the bed, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her completely. “Fuck,” Bradley groaned, his forehead dropping to hers, his breath ragged. “You feel like heaven, baby.”

He set a brutal, steady pace, each thrust deep and hard, driving into her like he needed to make up for every lost year between them. The bed rocked beneath them, the headboard knocking faintly against the wall with every movement, neither of them caring in the slightest. Y/n was a mess beneath him, gasping his name, legs wrapped tight around his waist, meeting every thrust.

“Harder,” she whimpered. Bradley didn’t hesitate. He grabbed one of her legs, tossing it over his shoulder, angling deeper. The new position made her gasp, stars bursting behind her eyes.

“You like that, baby?” he growled.

“God, yes, Brad—don’t stop.” His hand came down on her ass again, sharp and possessive, as he drove into her harder, faster. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, mingling with her broken moans and his ragged grunts.

“Such a good fucking girl for me,” he murmured against her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Taking me so damn well.” Y/n clung to him, her whole body coiled tight, the edge rushing up on her fast.

“Bradley- I’m gonna-”

“I know, angel,” he rasped, hips snapping harder, chasing his own release. “Come for me. Show me who you belong to.”

It shattered her. She came with a sharp, strangled moan, her entire body tensing around him, eyes squeezing shut as wave after wave of pleasure tore through her. Bradley cursed, his thrusts turning erratic before he followed, spilling deep inside her with a hoarse groan of her name. He held himself there for a moment, buried deep, his hands cradling her face as he caught his breath.

Neither of them moved for a long beat, sweat-slicked skin pressed together, the only sound their heavy breathing and the distant crash of the waves outside the open window.

Finally, Bradley leaned in, brushing a kiss to her temple. “You’re fucking dangerous, Y/n.”

She smiled against his skin, still breathless. “You love it.” He chuckled, rolling onto his side, pulling her with him so her head rested on his chest, their legs tangled beneath the sheets.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his hand stroking her hair. “I really do.”

And in the quiet aftermath, with the ocean breeze cooling their skin and the salt air filling the room, neither of them had any doubts- whatever this was between them, it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

Y/n woke to the sound of waves and the faint creak of floorboards as Bradley padded back into the room, two mugs of coffee in hand, his hair a rumpled mess, and the waistband of his sweats slung low on his hips.

“Morning, angel,” he greeted, his voice still rough from sleep- or maybe from how thoroughly he’d wrecked both of them the night before.

She smiled, stretching languidly beneath the sheets, one of his old t-shirts clinging to her body. “You’re spoiling me,” she teased, taking the mug he offered.

“You deserve it.” He smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand trailing down her bare thigh. “Especially after last night.”

Y/n raised a brow over the rim of her cup. “Mm, last night, huh?”

He grinned, leaning in to nip at her neck. “You loved it.”

“I did,” she agreed easily, then let a wicked little grin pull at her lips. “But you know what’s got me curious, Bradshaw?”

He froze, lifting his head. “What?”

She set her mug down, scooting closer, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You didn’t hesitate when I called you daddy. Not even for a second.”

Bradley flushed- actually flushed, his ears turning a faint shade of pink, though he tried to play it cool. “You started it,” he muttered, though his hand on her thigh tightened like he wasn’t entirely over it.

Y/n laughed, absolutely delighted. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?”

He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Look, you say something like that in the middle of me trying to not lose my goddamn mind, and I’m not responsible for what happens after.”

She grinned wider, biting her lip. “I liked what happened after.”

His gaze darkened immediately, that dangerous edge flickering back. “Careful, angel,” he warned, voice low and rough, leaning in close until their noses brushed. “Keep teasing me like that and you won’t make it to breakfast.”

Y/n let out a breathless laugh, sliding her arms around his neck. “That a threat, Lieutenant?”

“It’s a promise.”

She kissed him, slow and lazy, her fingers threading into his messy hair. When they finally broke apart, she grinned. “You really do have a thing for being called daddy, don’t you?”

He groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder, laughing quietly. “Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Good,” she whispered against his ear, tugging his earlobe between her teeth. “Because you’re stuck with me now, Bradshaw.”

He pulled back, grinning like the smug bastard he was, and pressed his forehead to hers. “Good.”

They spent the next hour tangled up in sheets and teasing kisses, trading soft touches and playful insults, the morning sun creeping higher through the windows. And for the first time in years, neither of them was in any rush to be anywhere else.

The Hard Deck was already packed by the time Bradley strolled in, sunglasses on despite the late afternoon hour, a smug little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His hair was a mess, barely tamed, curls still a little too wild, like someone had thoroughly run their hands through it.

Because someone had.

Y/n, sitting at the bar beside Penny, watched him over the rim of her drink, biting her cheek to keep from laughing. He looked way too pleased with himself. And the squad noticed immediately.

“Jesus Christ,” Hangman muttered as Bradley approached, leaning back against the pool table with a shit-eating grin. “Someone’s walking like he just conquered half the goddamn coastline.”

Phoenix snorted, sipping her beer. “I’d say he got laid, but he looks too smug for it to have been casual.”

Fanboy and Coyote exchanged glances before turning to Bradley, who set his beer down with a little too much satisfaction.

“Something you wanna share with the class, Rooster?” Phoenix asked, one brow arched, sharp as ever.

Bradley grinned, taking a sip of his drink, leaning his forearm against the bar. “Not particularly," leaning closer to Y/n, his hand resting possessively on the back of her stool.

Fanboy grinned. “I give it three days before Hangman tries to flirt with her again.”

“Already did,” Y/n teased, grinning at Jake. “He crashed and burned.”

“Hey, I was being friendly,” Hangman defended, holding up his hands. “Didn’t know she was already riding shotgun with Captain Pornstache over here.”

The table erupted into laughter, and even Bradley cracked a grin, shaking his head. Penny slid another round of beers down the bar with a knowing smile. “You kids have fun last night?”

Bradley didn’t even pretend to deny it. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Y/n leaned in close, whispering something into his ear that made his smirk falter and his face flush just enough for Phoenix to catch it.

“Oh, my God,” she groaned. “You’re into the daddy thing, aren’t you?” Y/n cackled, nearly choking on her drink as the entire squad howled.

Bradley groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

“Knew it!” Hangman shouted, pounding the table. Penny just shook her head, laughing as she walked away.

Y/n winked at Bradley, smug and unrepentant. “Told you you were mine now.” And damn if he didn’t look like the happiest, most exasperated bastard in the room.

The teasing didn’t let up for the next hour. Every time Bradley so much as brushed Y/n’s arm, the squad would erupt into exaggerated wolf whistles or muttered “Daddy’s girl” comments under their breath. Phoenix was the worst, refusing to let him live it down while Hangman seemed personally offended he hadn’t won the unofficial bet.

“Alright, Bradshaw,” Jake called, slapping two pool cues onto the table. “You and me. Loser buys the next round.”

Bradley raised a brow, leaning back against the bar, an arm lazily draped around Y/n’s shoulders. “You sure you wanna do this, Seresin? You’ve already taken one L tonight.”

Y/n snorted into her drink as the guys howled. “Talk’s cheap, Rooster,” Jake smirked. “Let’s see if you can actually back it up.”

Bradley grinned, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s temple before stepping away. “Watch this, angel.”

“Oh, I’m watching,” she teased, giving him a smug little look. “Show me what you’ve got, daddy.”

The entire bar lost it. Hangman damn near choked on his beer, Coyote practically doubled over, and even Penny, wiping down glasses at the far end of the bar, barked a laugh.

Bradley groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate you all.” But the flush creeping up his neck said otherwise.

The game started, and much to Y/n’s delight, Bradley wiped the floor with Hangman. Shot after shot, balls dropping into the pockets with practiced ease. Every time Jake missed, Y/n would lift her glass in mock sympathy, making Hangman mutter curses under his breath.

“God, this is better than pay-per-view,” Phoenix grinned, leaning over to Y/n. “You sure you wanna deal with his cocky ass after this?”

Y/n smirked. “I’ll manage.”

When Bradley finally sank the eight ball with a smooth, confident stroke, he straightened, cue resting against his shoulder, and shot a look straight at Hangman. “Looks like you’re buying, Seresin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake grumbled, heading toward the bar.

Bradley made his way back to Y/n, that victorious grin firmly in place. He didn’t even ask before tugging her up by the hand and pulling her flush against him. “C’mere,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear.

Y/n grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck. “What’s up, Bradshaw? Gonna brag about your win?”

“No,” he smirked, nuzzling into her neck. “Gonna steal you away.”

“Oh?” She arched a brow, leaning back to look at him. He shot a glance around the bar, his squad still teasing, the pool tables loud, the music thumping through the old jukebox. Then his gaze dropped back to her, his voice low and rough.

“I want you to myself for a while. Can’t stand having to keep my hands off you in front of those assholes.”

Y/n laughed, brushing her lips against his. “So possessive.”

“Can you blame me?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Alright, Lieutenant. Steal me.”

He grinned, grabbing her hand and weaving them through the crowd, ignoring the shouts of protest from the squad. “Hey!” Hangman called after them. “If you’re gonna leave, at least let me finish my beer before you start defiling my memories of this bar!”

“Too late,” Phoenix quipped.

The Hard Deck’s noise faded as they stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against their skin. Bradley tugged her toward the Bronco, pulling her close again once they were out of sight. Y/n smiled up at him, their bodies pressed together in the soft glow of the parking lot lights.

“You really can’t get enough of me, huh?” she teased.

Bradley grinned, brushing her hair back from her face. “Not a chance.”

He kissed her then, slow and deep, no teasing, no audience- just him and her, like no time had passed between then and now.

And Y/n knew, without a doubt, that this wasn’t just a fling, not some old childhood bond or a one-time thing. This was dangerous. Real. And God, she was already in too deep to care.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 69 (More Spooky Party Time!)

With the party still going strong, Conrad greeted Bella with a smile. "Mrs. Goth, thanks for coming."

"I love a good Spooky Day party. Thanks for the invitation."

"I wanted to apologize for how uptight I was the day Heather went...travelling in your attic."

"Grimmie told me you two called him for a chat. I'd say I hate to say I told you so, but I don't hate to say it at all."

"I'm coming around to some of these ideas you think are completely normal, but-"

"There's nothing normal about them, and that's what interests me."

Conrad smiled. "All my life I've been smacked by reality, but that night at your seance table was the first time I've ever really experienced the paranormal. It freaked me out."

"Have you never even seen a ghost?"

He shook his head. "Just Heather's cat. I mean, thinking I hear them is another story..."

Bella eyed him sympathetically. "You don't have to wait for the Ambrosia Society to send you back to see the mentors, you know. You could always go on your own, if you're curious. I haven't put the table away in the attic yet, and it's always nice when you and Heather come by."

"Thanks Mrs. Goth. I'll think about it."

"Anytime, Detective Gordon. My paranormal exploration days are long past me, but the world beyond our own is full of strange mysteries I believe should be shared. Anything you want to know, all you need to do is ask." She smiled, taking a cookie as she stood from the table. She passed Heather on her way to the living room. "Wonderful party, dear. And your costume is fabulous!"

Heather grabbed a plate of leftover spaghetti with 'Dulce sauce' (her second that same day!) and joined Conrad and her parents at the kitchen table. "River told us what you two went through recently," her mother said. "We just wanted to let you both know we're sorry."

"It's okay, Mrs. Nesbitt. We've been to a grief counselor and I've really made a lot of progress on some things I've dealt with since the deaths of my parents. Heather's a lot stronger than me."

"I never had to go through what you went through. My parents did, though. When my mother was seven, her grandmother died and she grew up in foster care."

"Have you ever wondered about them?" asked Conrad. "What they might have done, had they lived?"

Daisy nodded. "When I was younger, absolutely. But then I met Neal and we had four amazing kids, and I wasn't looking for my family anymore. I had them."

Neal smiled at his wife. "Our life together has been pretty fantastic. Now we've got grandkids and in-laws coming out of our ears, and I found my brother again. I never thought I could have all this when my parents died."

"I love the way that sounds, and I want that," he said. Heather listened, waiting for the but. This time, he stopped short, and they both smiled.

Guests finally began to leave around one in the morning. Hazel and Nicola fell asleep upstairs, and Conrad fell asleep quickly in the bedroom, but Heather tidied a few dishes and summoned Grim again.

They met outside under a clear sky full of stars. "When he talked about having a family tonight, he didn't say he wasn't ready. I don't want to assume what it does mean, but I think he's working through his parents' death and I wanted to thank you for helping us this morning."

"You're welcome. Do you know how many people have bothered to summon me just to say thank you? Putting on all these robes and chains is a pain in my hollow neck, but it's worth it just to hear a bit of gratitude."

"Bella Goth was right about you, Grim. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon, and not for any reaping."

Grim gave a respectful nod before slamming his white staff to the dirt and disappearing out of sight. Heather showered and got into bed, snuggling close and waking Conrad from a light sleep. "I know I'm out of uniform, but if you still need me to deliver your mail..."

Heather grinned, capping off a successful party with Conrad under their brand new bedcovers, identical to the ones that burned earlier that day. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[demigodsanswer]

AU (either within an AU or canon) where Frederick is dating Kathy and then realizes marrying a woman who doesn't like his seven year old is maybe a bad idea.

Some modern royals backstory perhaps? also changed her name to Cynthia because I like that more lol

cw for death, loss of a parent, and cancer

~

People had started to believe that the current Swedish royal line was cursed. Frederick wasn't superstitious himself, but he was starting to believe them.

It started with his brother's family.

In one tragic day, in one swift and violent turn in the tides, his wife and daughters sank into the ocean. Rudolph quickly sank into his grief.

For the first time in twenty years, Fred found himself heir apparent. And when his brother's griefs weighed too heavy on him, and he found abdication was more beneficial for himself and his country, Fred became the one thing he never expected to be -- King.

"Do you know what this means?" His wife asked their daughter. She was only two, but already whip-smart, clever, and a trouble maker to boot.

"I'm going to be the queen," Annabeth guessed.

"That's right," Frederick told her, "but not for a long time, I promise."

His wife was next, though. The number of treatments available to her didn't matter. The cancer simply spread too quickly and too aggressively. She left them within the year of the diagnosis. Annabeth was four -- old enough to perceive a big change and the sharp pangs of grief, but not old enough to truly understand how final death was. It took almost a year before she stopped asking when her mother was coming back.

A widower himself now, Fred spent most of his time attached to his daughter, prioritizing her happiness, education, and safety above anything else.

Annabeth seemed capable of charming anyone with her sweet little face and wide eyes. Anyone, of course, except a step-mother.

Fred tried to find a new wife. As the spare himself, he understood the need for a monarchy to have options.

"I don't want to just marry someone so she can be some brood mare," Fred said to his sister. "And anyway, none of these women seem particularly keen on Annabeth."

"I saw Annabeth put lemon in the last one's tea to curdle the milk," his sister said casually.

"What are you saying?" Fred asked.

"It's not the women who don't like her. She doesn't like them."

The last time Fred dated, Annabeth was seven. He actually really cared for Cynthia. He met her in Boston on a family vacation with Annabeth. And Annabeth seemed to actually like her for once.

But there were problems. Annabeth was a good, sweet girl, but she clung to her father after her mother died, and Fred allowed it. He didn't want to be away from Annabeth any more than she did. When Annabeth sensed that Cynthia was taking away from her time with her dad, she acted out. Fits, tantrums, and cries pleading for her mother became routine, and Cynthia's patience ran thin.

"If this is going to work, Fred, then you need to discipline her. She can't get away with things like this," Cynthia protested.

"It's just been me and her since her mother died, she needs time," Fred argued back.

"I'm not saying don't comfort her, but you need to control her."

"I can either control this country or control Annabeth, I cannot possibly do both," Fred said.

Cynthia stood up. "If that's really your feeling, then I don't think we can continue seeing each other."

Maybe she was bluffing. Maybe it was a chance for him to prove he could be a disciplinary father. But really, did he love this woman enough to put her through the pressure of a very public royal life? Did he want her to be Annabeth's stepmother? Did he even want another wife?

"Well, if that's how you feel. I'll have Hugo arrange to take you to the airport," he said simply, before checking his watch. "Annabeth will be done with school for the day soon. You're welcome to stay and say goodbye if you'd like."

Cynthia hadn't stayed. Annabeth walked around all night with a triumphant smile on her face. Fred might have been the spare who was never meant to be king, but his little girl was born to be queen.

Annabeth fell asleep in his arms that night. She might have been getting bigger, but she still liked when he read to her. They sat in the old rocking chair in her room, and she clung onto a brown Beanie Baby owl she called "Hoot," while he read from the Norwegian translation of Return of the King. He'd read it to her in Swedish as a baby, and then in English as a toddler. His girl was bilingual now, and it was time to get her started on the other Scandinavian languages, before she learned the romance languages too.

"Sir," his valet said, popping his head in, "Cynthia's plane has departed."

"Thank you Anders," Fred said. "I think she'll be the last woman for a while."

Anders paused. "Sir, the line --"

"Will pass to Annabeth," Fred said.

"Of course, that's the expectation. But if something happens to her --"

Fred held up his hand. "If, god forbid, Annabeth dies before I do, I plan to go mad, become a tyrant, and then set myself on fire," he held up the book for emphasis, "Denathor-style."

"And the line of succession?"

"Will go to my sister and her son Magnus, I suppose," Fred said with less intensity.

"Right, well, let us hope for the long and happy life of our princess," Anders said.

"Yes, let's do that," Fred said, dismissing Anders. He'd put Annabeth in bed in a few minutes, but for now he'd just keep holding onto her. She wouldn't be little forever, after all.

~

Annabeth: I have never done anything wrong in my entire life

Fred: I know this, and I love you

[libraryofneith]

Old Dog, New Tricks - Chapter Seven (Sandor Clegane x Female Reader)

@ladysandorclegane1968 @broadsdrinkwhisky @northwindsdaughter @haus-of-a-thousand-fandoms @laaadygisbooornex3

Summary: you and the Hound head to the Wall.

Tags: we're just chilling here, roadtrip! roadtrip with dead bodies!

Series Masterlist

Sandor pulled his cloak tighter around himself, inadvertently causing Kya to snuggle closer to him in her sleep. She couldn’t ride well and she wouldn’t let any of these cunts near her. He squinted, trying to keep the thick snowflakes out of his eyes. They’d ridden into a hideous snowstorm and the wind was blowing in their faces like it was trying to turn them back, like it knew where they were heading.

He saw who he thought was Thoros ride up beside him.

“Bad night to be outdoors.”

“You got real powerful magic to figure that out.” Sandor replied drily.

“Did the Lord of Light whisper that in your ear? It’s windy. It’s gonna be a cold night.” Through the blizzard, he thought he could see Thoros smile.

“You’re a grouchy old bear aren’t you Clegane? Don’t know how you made her like you so much.”

“I kill the people she doesn’t like” he replied, shooting him a glare. Thoros just rolled his eyes and offered him some rum.

“Don’t like that shit, it’s too sweet.”

“Why are you always in such a foul mood?”

“Experience.” He found himself pulling Kya closer.

Beric stopped outside a small cottage that gave Sandor the uncomfortable feeling that he’d been there before.

“This looks like a good place to spend the night.” Then he realised how he recognised the place.

“These people don’t want us here” he said to Beric, if they’re still alive, he added silently.

“Seems deserted to me; no livestock, no smoke coming from the chimney” Beric replied.

“I don’t like the look of it.”

“For a big hard man, you scare easy” Thoros jibed.

“I’ll tell you what doesn’t scare me” Sandor snapped back. “Bald cock suckers, like you. You think you’re fooling anyone with that top-knot? Bald cunt.” As ever, he didn’t get angry, only smiled.

“C’mon, maybe they’ve got some ale hidden away.”

“They don’t.” He remembered from last time.

Sandor glanced down at Kya's sleeping form, resting her cheek against his chest. She was the only friend he had, the closest he’d allowed himself to be to a person since his brother burned his face. And if she found out what he'd done last time he was here she'd hate him forever. He gently nudged her awake and helped her down from the saddle, and they entered the house together.

Beric was right, it was deserted. Maybe they left when the weather turned, he hoped. Then he noticed the two skeletal ghosts slumped together in the corner. Lia gasped. Thoros was too busy getting a fire on, but Beric noticed. He approached them warily.

“How do you think it ended for them?”

“With death.” Like he told the little wolf.

“Girl died in her father’s arms” Beric continued. “Both of them covered in blood and a knife at their feet. I’d say they were starving, and rather than let his little girl suffer, he ended it for both of them.”

Kya was looking at him questioningly. She knew something was wrong and she wanted to help but he’d never tell her. The other two hadn’t caught on yet.

“Doesn’t matter now” he said, feigning his usual carelessness.

“Doesn’t matter now” Beric agreed.

They gathered round a table, except for Kya who curled up in a corner and continued her sleep. He took out a piece of dried meat and started gnawing at it.

“I’ve known you a long time Dondarrion.”

“Aye. The first time we met was at that tournament.”

“I always thought you were dull as dirt.” Beric laughed at that. “You’re not bad” he went on. “Don’t hate you, don’t like you, but you’re not bad.”

“Thank you Clegane. That warms the heart.” He kept smiling at him, he didn’t like that smile.

“You like her” he said nodding at Kya, already dozing in the corner. “You more than like her.”

Fuck.

“Of course, I like her, she nursed me back to health” he replied carefully, as Thoros was listening.

“It’s more than that though, isn’t it? I’ve seen the way you are around her, you’re nicer to her than anyone else.” Sandor looked daggers at them both. Beric chuckled and held up his hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her. Don’t think she’d mind though.”

That took him aback. But his surprise was quickly replaced by anger.

“You can both fuck off. She wouldn’t look at me that way, and if she did, I wouldn’t welcome it.” Beric merely shrugged.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’d work well together.”

“Aye, you talk too much and she doesn’t talk at all. A match made in heaven” Thoros joked. Sandor just growled.

“Why does some all-powerful lord want to keep two annoying buggers like you around?”

“You think I don’t ask myself that every hour of every day? Why am I here? What am I supposed to do? What does the Lord see in me? And… I don’t know. I don’t understand our Lord.”

“Your lord” he quickly cut in.

“I don’t know what he wants from me, I only know that he wants me alive.”

“If he’s so all powerful why doesn’t he tell you what the fuck he wants?” That finally seemed to shut him up, but then Thoros decided to cut in.

“Clegane. Come here.” Of course, he was sitting by the fireplace.

“Don’t worry the fire won’t bite. I want to show you something.” Sandor just glared at him.

“It’s my fucking luck I end up with a band of fire worshippers.” Beric smirked.

“Aye, almost seems like divine justice.”

“There’s no divine justice you dumb cunt. If there was you’d be dead, and that girl would be alive.”

He got up and joined Thoros at the fire, if only to spare himself his mockery.

“What do you want?”

“Look into the flames.”

“I don’t want to look in the damn flames.” Thoros gave him a hard look.

“You saw me bring him back from the dead after you cut him down. Don’t you want to know what gave me the power?”

“I keep asking and no one wants to tell me.”

“We can’t tell you. Only the fire can tell you.” Of course it was only the fucking fire. Sandor steeled himself then looked at the flames, trying to put aside all memory of what the fire had looked like when his brother had pushed him into it.

“What do you see?”

“Logs burning.”

“Keep looking. What do you see?”

So he kept looking at the tendrils of red, orange and blue dancing about in the grate, until the blue started to become more prominent, and then the tendrils started to take clearer shapes. He could see now: the blue was ice, it turned into a wall – the Wall, he kept looking and he saw the Wall end and the sea begin, there was a castle… The flames leapt suddenly. He flinched, and when he looked back the image had changed: it was now a mountain, shaped like an arrow head, something was moving past it, not just one something, thousands of shapes, figures… It was the dead. The dead were marching.

He looked up and realised that he’d said all of that out loud. Thoros was looking at him, like he’d seen a ghost, Beric was standing beside him, and across the room he saw Kya sitting up straight, regarding him nervously. “Do you believe me now Clegane? Do you believe we’re here for a reason?”

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Keepsafes

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Martha and Thomas survive, and they adopt the batkids.

Chapters: 67/?

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, David Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Martha Wayne/Alfred Pennyworth, BruHarvey, BruTalia

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Angst, Alfred Pennyworth Knows All, Bruce Wayne Only Has One Child, Bruce Wayne is Not An Only Child, Bi Bruce Wayne

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Chic

Thomas stopped by Dylan’s house unannounced and pressed the speaker. “Dylan, are you home? I made fettuccine alfredo. Your fave and Bruce wanted me to show you the ultrasounds,” Thomas stated. 

“Tom! One minute, I’ll be right there!” Dylan shouted through the speaker. His accent slipped, and Thomas smiled. 

“Am I interrupting something, brother-in-law?” Thomas chuckled. Dylan swung the door open, his clothes disheveled as if he’d thrown them on, and his hair was wet and wavy. 

“I was in the shower. You brought me fettuccine? With peas?” Dylan asked. 

“I did. Can I come in?” Thomas questioned in reply. Dylan nodded. “Why do you look mortified? You’re a grown man. It’s not like you’re a teenager sneaking boys into the manor… Is Maël here?” 

“Maël is here… I just have to—. I know you. You’re gonna be mad at me when you see him because he—. I know you’re gonna think this has something to do with—.” 

“ Should I leave? ” Maël asked in French as he stepped into the living room with his cup of tea. Thomas squinted. 

“ No. Can you wait for me? I have to speak to my brother-in-law in the kitchen, ” Dylan mumbled as he dragged Thomas to the kitchen. 

“That man is old enough to be my father,” Thomas whispered. 

“He’s not old enough to be your father… Just old enough to be my father, ” Dylan mumbled as he looked at his feet before regaining his boldness, “What does it matter? I’m over forty. It’d be different if I was seventeen or even nineteen… But I’m a father and a businessman and—.” 

“Not a kid anymore… I’m sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not a kid anymore… But I will never get over the fact that you’ve grown up to be such a wonderful father and human being. I’m so proud of you, and you’re probably hungry. Let me make everyone a plate,” Thomas rambled. 

**

Bruce let himself into Harvey and Gilda’s place, putting his things in the corner, setting the wine on the bench, and taking his shoes off before hearing Harvey’s laugh in the kitchen. Being too tired to say anything, Bruce headed for the shower before running into Gilda. “Hi,” Gilda smiled, “Quick chat?” 

“Can it wait until after my shower?” Bruce asked. 

“Okay,” Gilda replied. 

Bruce smiled. “I’d hug you, hello, but I smell like something died on me… Nothing did today, but I do smell awful,” Bruce replied as he slipped into the bathroom. “Give me fifteen luxurious minutes, and I promise you all of my attention.” 

“Cool. Yes,” Gilda replied as he shut the door. She met Harvey in the kitchen and kissed his cheek while he ground herbs to put in the sauce. “Talia’s on her way. She’ll be here right before dinner.” 

“Good. I can’t believe my boss is bringing the governor here. Gilda, you look stunning as always. I have absolutely no idea what to do with you other than smile tonight. You look gorgeous. I love the headband and—.” Harvey froze as he got a closer look at her. 

“What’s wrong?” Gilda asked. 

“Nothing. You’re wearing the earrings I got you?” Harvey asked. 

“They’re my favorites. Why? Should I change them?” Gilda questioned in reply. 

Harvey shook his head. “It brings out the color in your cheeks,” Harvey whispered as he twirled her around. “You look beautiful, and I’m just—. You’ve got me a little lost for words.” Gilda stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Apollo,” Gilda giggled.

**

Talia brought the chicken, and Bruce took a deep breath. “I was tricked into this,” Bruce whispered. 

“I know. I’m so sorry about ambushing you with this, but I need you and Talia tonight as a buffer just in case I start drowning at this dinner,” Harvey replied as he held the lapels of Bruce’s suit jacket. Bruce leaned forward and gave Harvey a quick peck. 

“Shut up. You know I love you, and I’ll put on my best face for all of this. You’d do the same thing for me… And stop looking for approval. You’re young, you’re hot, and you’re good at your job. You don’t need any of us to prove what everyone already knows is true. You deserve this because you earned it,” Bruce smiled. 

Harvey started to smile back before the doorbell rang. “Sorry, I love you. I have to—.” 

“Go ahead,” Bruce whispered. 

**

Bette sat across from Maël at the coffee table with her fashion lightboard, and he sketched in his. “ Do you mind if I take a look? ” Maël asked in French. 

Bette showed him a rough sketch of a geometric patterned plum and grass green dress. “ I can’t really draw it, but I thought it’d be kind of cool if the circles were open like—. You know like dry paint on a paintbrush, ” Bette explained. 

“ Do you mind if I draw up my interpretation of this? ” Maël whispered. 

Bette nodded excitedly. “Maël, will you please come to my graduation?” Bette requested. 

Maël smiled. “I have to ask your father. I don’t think he’ll mind,” Maël whispered as he took the nail of his thumb and the table to chip the pencil lead to get a rougher texture on the open circles. His hands moved quickly as he switched colored pencils and glanced up at Bette. “Are you and Dylan getting along?” 

“Mhm. There’s a dance we have every year for sixth graders where kids go with their parents, and I haven’t asked him yet because I wouldn’t want him to feel bad seeing everyone with their—. Maël, you’re like a parent,” Bette smiled. 

“Your graduation is one thing, mon chou—. ” 

“How are my favorites?” Dylan smiled as he kissed Bette’s cheek and sat beside her on the floor. 

“Daddy, couldn’t you bring Maël on parents’ night as a date?” Bette asked. Dylan looked at her smiling face and frowned. “Oh, really, Daddy? I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m proud that you’re my dad, and I love Maël because he’s part of our family. At least you’re really in love unlike some of the other kids’ parents who just play pretend.” 

Dylan blinked hard. “When did you ever get to be so kind?” Dylan replied. 

“I’m not kind, Daddy. I’m honest,” Bette replied, “Your earring is gross by the way.”

“Wow. Thank you for that, bun,” Dylan laughed. 

“It is atrocious,” Maël agreed. 

**

Cassandra leaned over Martha’s back while she worked on the mural in the nursery. “Chic,” Cassandra whispered. 

“Did Cousin Bette teach you that?” Martha grinned. 

Cassandra nodded. “Did I say it right?” Cassandra asked. 

“Perfect context, Cassie. I needed that. Do you think we should order a big pizza?” Martha suggested as Cassandra climbed into her lap underneath the palette and paintbrush in Martha’s hands. “You know something? You’re a lot like a cat. I don’t see you all day and then you appear out of nowhere. You’re in my lap and on my back, and I think it’s one of my favorite things about you.” 

“Thank you!” Cassandra giggled. 

Martha set her brush and palette aside before wiping her hands on a towel. “My precious baby… Which animal am I like?” Martha asked. 

“Hm… A flamingo,” Cassandra answered. 

“Ooh! I love that!” Martha exclaimed as she leaned forward and kissed Cassandra’s forehead. “Mind popping out and telling Daddy and Alfie we’re having Italian again?” 

“Okay. Can I have bread?” Cassandra asked as she leaped to her feet. “And meatballs? 

“Oh, of course. I love you, babydoll,” Martha smiled.

“I love you too, Mommy,” Cassandra smiled, “And don’t worry. I think the baby will be happy here.”

“Thank you,” Martha grinned as she turned around and Cassandra was nowhere to be found.

[otdiaftg]

The Raven King - Chapter Seven

Day: Thursday, October 5th Time: 11:00 AM EST

"Andrew hates her, you know. Andrew's not really big on the idea of Aaron's happiness, see? So if Aaron likes Katelyn, Andrew doesn't want him to have her. Andrew might smile awful bright but he is a master of childish spite." "That doesn't make sense," Neil said. "It's complicated," Nicky said, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back in his chair. "I didn't really get into the gritty details last time because those aren't really Dan and Matt's business, but you're family, so I can tell you." He looked over his shoulder again. "I told you Aunt Tilda gave Andrew up, right? That's only half of it. Truth is she put both of them in the system at first. One week later she changed her mind."

"They know she gave them both up?" Neil asked. "When Andrew's foster mother called to set up that meet-and-greet, she asked Aunt Tilda how only one of them ended up in the system. Aunt Tilda told her, and Aaron heard it on the upstairs line." Nicky gestured up as if indicating Tilda's bedroom. "I don't know why the hell Andrew's foster family told him, but yeah, he knows. I'm thinking that's why he wouldn't talk to Aaron when Aaron wrote to him. He was—justifiably, I think—pissed off." "But it's not Aaron's fault," Neil said. "It was their mother's decision." "That's Andrew for you: making sense since never." Nicky spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Finding Andrew again was a turning point for Aaron in all the worst ways. Aunt Tilda moved them cross-country, started drinking more than ever, and got heavy-handed with Aaron. Aaron got into all kinds of trouble in some sort of traumatized rebellion. He took her drugs and got into fights at school and in general grew up to be a bit of an asshole. Mom wrote me about it when I was in Germany because she was worried about him. The only good thing Aaron did in South Carolina was play Exy, and he only picked that up so games would get him out of Aunt Tilda's house. Then Dad found out about Andrew and began this years-long campaign to bring Andrew home. Told you last time, right? He wore Aunt Tilda down until she agreed to take Andrew in, then talked to the courts and Children's Services and Andrew's last foster family. He met Andrew, who apparently wasn't at all interested in a triumphant return with his mother, and introduced Aaron to Andrew. That's when things started moving. Andrew suddenly got motivated. He started behaving and toeing the line and got released on early parole about a year later." "Andrew decided he wanted a brother after all," Neil said. "So what went wrong?" "Aunt Tilda died, and Aaron blames Andrew." "Did Andrew do it?" "The night Aunt Tilda died, she and Aaron got in a fight. That's how Mom and Dad finally found out Aunt Tilda was beating on Aaron. He showed up at their place with fresh bruises and cuts. Dad called Aunt Tilda over to sort things out, but she didn't stick around long. She took Aaron and left. They didn't make it home. She went over the median into oncoming traffic and wasn't wearing her seatbelt.... It wasn't Aaron in the car. Aaron was standing in for Andrew at a study session. That was before Andrew was on his drugs, so it was a pretty easy act for Aaron to pull off. He didn't know why Andrew asked him to do it until the police called. I still don't know what happened, if Aunt Tilda panicked when she realized which son was with her or if they were fighting or if it was intentional, but... It's not like Aaron liked her, but she was his mother, you know? And Aaron never got to fix things with her, never got to understand why she was so messed up or why she messed them up so bad. Aaron can't accept that she's gone. He misses her. He can't forgive Andrew, and Andrew doesn't understand or care about how much it hurt Aaron. Stalemate."

He spoke slowly, giving himself time to think and to bleach the grief from his voice. "Andrew did care. That's what went wrong."

Art used with permission by Aymmidumps. Thank you @aymmidumps!

[sayafics]

Dance of Shadows - Chapter I

Hi guys, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this series!

I know the teaser was an excerpt of another chapter after Aemma died, but I wanted to add some context/depth to Daemon and Saenyra's relationship before that, since there's such a long gap in the timeline before he returns to Kings Landing after beating the Crabfeeder.

I hope I got the timeline right, and I do hope this lives up to your expectations! Please let me know what you think, all comments and reblogs are appreciated <33 thank you to everyone who showed love on tha teaser excerpt!

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Saenyra had just spent the last few hours lounging in the library, browsing through books ranging from histories of the Seven Kingdoms and how they came to be, to the myths and legends of dragons and other beings which lurked the lands they inhabited and the seas they wished to rule, to charming scrawls of love written in between lines of literature and poetry.

She had finally found a book she was content with, eager to return to her room before divulging its contents. If she were to hurry, she was sure she would be able to finish before it was time for dinner.

With the book held in one hand, Saenyra used the other to gather the skirt of her dress. Whilst her sister preferred to adorn herself in gowns of black and red - the designs grand yet mature for her age, Saenyra deigned to dress herself in shades which resembled the skies on a warm autumn eve or the sun on a bright summer's day. She would parade around the Keep in hues of yellows and blues, greens and pinks - whatever it was that her heart so desired.

As she made her way through the Keep, eyes roving around the walls as she treaded through corridors and weaved past bowing knights and respectful Lords, she turned the corner only to bump into a solid figure.

Saenyra stumbled back, her hand letting go of her skirt to brush against her forehead as she took in the figure in front of her, a slight pout on her lips. Her eyes found her smudged reflection glinting in a shining and tainted armour, gleaming in the light of a new day but stained with the signs of a bloodied battle.

Her eyes continued their path until they met a set of familiar violet hues.

Oh.

Before her stood Daemon Targaryen, looking as though he had slaughtered an army single-handedly. His eyes were bright with the thrill of a good fight. He looked lively, and if she peered closely enough, she could see how he trembled with unbound energy that coursed through his veins.

At the sight of his niece, the one so quiet and quaint who looked up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, Daemon found an unfamiliar softness seep into his features, "niece, my apologies."

He rarely saw his little niece around the Keep when he did come, he preferred to keep company with whores and dragons.

It was with poorly hidden determination that Rhaenyra would find him, trailing his every step.

When Rhaenyra had found him before his bloodbath in the city, he had gifted her a necklace. A piece of shared ancestry, a piece of home. Now, glancing at Saenyra's bare throat, he wished it had adorned her instead.

Daemon was not one for apologies, even Saenyra was aware of that. So, to hear the words brought a heat upon her cheeks as her gaze became down-turned, "I fear I must apologise too, dear uncle. I must have become too distracted with my thoughts."

A smirk tugged at Daemon's lips at the sight of her bashfulness, amusement colouring his features as he spoke, a teasing tone tainting his innocent words, "ah yes. I believe it is only right if you make it up to me then, don't you think?"

Daemon had never spoken to his neice in such a way, too fearful of what his brother might do. Of what he, himself, might do.

Daemon could not be the reason his darling niece shed tears. He would not forgive himself if he was the reason she were to break.

Seanyra's head had never looked up so fast, eyes flitting around the corridor as she leaned closely, as though she was sharing a secret - "of course. Only if you promise not to tell Kepa." Father.

The easy slip of High Valyrian made Daemon heady with the desire to hear it again, and his eyes burned into her at the eagerness she showed as she was desperate to make things right. His smirk grew broader at the show of her naivety, but still - he would make no fool of his sweet neice, his little 'nyra.

"Anything for my Zaldrītsos." Little Dragon.

Her heart twisted slightly at the endearment, despite the heat that flushed her body once more - although said good-naturedly, the word was a stark reminder that the only dragon the girl had was the one pumping through her blood. It was a subtle reminder of the differences between Saenyra and her sister, of how Rhaenyra has conquered a dragon and emanated a fierce and challenging nature, whilst Saenyra was simply a dragon by name.

Daemon could see how her eyes dimmed at the word, hated how her smile wavered - the Seven Kingdoms would rave about the similarities between Daemon and Rhaenyra, how the two had fire running through their veins and charging their souls, how they would burn each other to ash should they get too close. And with Saenyra, they would whisper about her lack of spark, how she didn't have the charm of a Targaryen, nor the fire of one too.

All that tied her to the Targaryen line was her silver-white hair and lilac eyes.

But a part of Daemon, a dark and repressed echo that grew louder as the days went by, found that he preferred it as such. She was a calm summer evening, a quiet winter's day.

Daemon was chaos, and Saenyra was peace.

Her voice broke him out of his reverie, "so, what is it that you want?"

There was a curious smile on her lips, her eyes searching his as she became impatient. He huffed a laugh, teeth bared in a broad grin - "I guess you shall have to wait and see."

Daemon knew what he would ask. He had been thinking of doing so from the moment he had stepped foot back in King's Landing and seen his Saenyra. She had grown tall, her hair flowing down her back is careless ruffles, flowers twisted between the intricate braids that adorned her head as a circlet rested atop her brows. Her gowns were tight fitting, the neck would swoop low, or her arms would be bare of fabric, and sometimes, if he was lucky, careful patterns would be cut into the lining of her waist to reveal the milky skin that lay underneath.

Daemon would be lying if he said a part of him hadn't grown feral at the sight, something dark and desperate coming to life within him as his desires for Saenyra grew stronger.

It was something unexpected, especially by him. He had expected, if anyone, it would be Rhaenyra he would pursue. The two were in a silent battle for the place of heir at Viserys' behest, fervent prayers that the next child Aemma gave birth to would not be a boy. So it would make sense to present a united front. To present themselves as a joint option, a better choice to the other heirs Viserys would force his wife to bear.

But Rhaenyra and Daemon had the fire of a dragon running through them, and they would ultimately burn each other and leave nothing but destruction in their wake.

Daemon cleared his throat, forcing himself to stray from his traiterous thoughts and focus on his task - he had to attend the meeting with the Council, he had to reach Viserys before they filled his head with lies about Daemon - before they seeded doubt and had him sent from the Seven Kingdoms once more.

"I must take leave now, dear niece."

Daemon skirted around the girl, his golden cloak billowing behind him, the soft and bloodied material brushing against her cheek in an imitation of affection he longed to show himself. His moves were slow and sluggish as though he was hoping she'd stop him. And she did exactly that - "where are you going, Kepus?" Uncle.

He inhaled sharply at the Valyrian word, there was a frown on her lips as her head twisted in question and Daemon felt as though he would kneel for her and give all of himself right there, if she had simply asked.

Her hand came to hold his own as she tugged at his fingers. Daemon risked a glance down, eyes tracing over her nimble fingers and how they dwarfed against his own. She tugged again, "Kepus."

The word was stressed and elongated, hoping to catch the man's attention as he kept gazing off to a place far from where she could see.

"The King wants to see me," it wasn't a complete lie, but it was an easy one, "I wouldn't want to keep them waiting."

She nodded, understandingly. But there was a part of her left unsure by his words, Daemon was never one to obey with such ease - always at the ready to challenge those around him, including his own brother. Even if he was King.

It seemed, however, his words were enough to snap her into a state of disinterest, she turned away from him with such ease and continued on her way, a soft "I shall see you later, then," passed over her shoulders with a friendly smile as she walked away from him.

Daemon found he could do nothing but watch.

***

Saenyra hadn't left her chambers much after her encounter with her uncle - with no dragon to tend to, and the lack of duties as a second-born and the burden of being a girl, she had no pending responsibilities. Left in the confines of her room, she made due with what she had - her books.

There was not much else to do in King's Landing, with no Kingsguard assigned to her yet, she was not free to roam the cities that belonged to her father.

Saenyra ate in her chambers, despite the call for her to join her family in her father's - were she to join, she was sure the room would be full of praises for a successful Rhaenyra - whether it was how she was getting on with her lessons with the Septa or a new dragon-riding trick mastered, or whispers of possibilities of their future son - a new heir and a new King in the making.

Anything but Saenyra.

All throughout the hours of the night, even as she laid her head to rest, her mind would tiptoe back to the voice of her uncle.

Despite all his time in the Keep, and all his trips out, Saenyra had never been able to bond with her uncle the way she wishes she had. The way Rhaenyra had.

Daemon had been the Master of Laws, the Master of Coin, and now Commander of the City Watch. And throughout it all, she had been unable to bond with her uncle in a way she was desperate for ever since she was a child. She remained oblivious to his glances and heated stares, to the dark whispers in his mind and the temptation that lurked under every passive graze and touch.

It was instead Rhaenyra who found him, who bonded with him. Who found common ground in their love for riding and dragons and violence. Rhaenyra who adored her uncle as he adored her. As everyone adored her, in a way Saenyra craved for them to cherish her.

The two would gush over dragons and tales of battles and wars, a wistful tone taking over Rhaenyra's voice as she spewed questions at her uncle whenever he dined with them, and a look of admiration would sparkle in Daemon's eyes as he answered every question with ease.

Saenyra would sit quietly, never speaking aloud unless spoken to, and even that was quite rare. So, for her uncle to say he wants something from her? It was a surprise, indeed. And a bubbling sensation of guilt began to fester as she realised that she felt excitement build at the prospect. What would Rhaenyra think? Would she be hurt? Jealous?

Saenyra was not blind to how Rhaenyra was captivated by Daemon, how she craved him and called to him. Although Daemon was both of their uncle, there was an unspoken claim placed upon him from the moment Rhaenyra was old enough to articulate her fascination with the man. A silent boundary, a whispered challenge Saenyra had never dared to overstep. And she was worried she may now.

Would he ask to take her dragon-riding? Perhaps he would ask her to steal him some lemon cakes, as he had when she was much younger? Or maybe he would ask for a favour she couldn't provide.

Perhaps, he wanted her help to get Rhaenyra something. Or to tell her something.

Saenyra wasn't blind to Daemon's own infatuation with her sister, whether it was because of her claim to the throne or her violent beauty. The man was enamoured, even if he tried to deny so.

She resigned herself to the idea of having to wait until Daemon had finally asked her whatever it was he decided, a frustrated sigh escaping her as she rolled onto her side and faced the open balcony windows, watching as the soft winds blew a quiet tune through the curtains. Her eyes traced over the dark shadows of King's Landing, her eyes finding the moon and seeking comfort in its shallow glow.

With steady breaths, she fell asleep quickly, her mind flashing with images she had long learned to ignore. What good is being a dragon dreamer when you are unable to tame one?

***

In the cities of King's Landing, Daemon had taken to throwing himself in the arms of lust as he sought out ways to expel his energy and frustration in the brothels of Silk Street.

He had been here for perhaps hours now, gyrating and grinding against the softness of his paramour. Mysaria wasn't a quiet lover, her moans drawing an audience as he pounded relentlessly, chasing a high that escaped him at every turn.

No matter how hard he tried, how much he relied on his imagination - it wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't who he needed.

The meeting with the Small Council hadn't ended badly, but Otto's reminders of his duties to the Bronze Bitch of the Vale continued to follow him. A dark reminder that although his marriage was not consumated, in the eyes of the Seven Kingdoms and in the eyes of his brother, Daemon was a married man. And even if Targaryen men had taken on second wives before, he knew his brother would never accept such an ordeal.

But still, such moral obligations hadn't stopped him from chasing his pleasure in brothels and amongst whores. Yet, Mysaria's dark hair was a pitying reminder of the woman he felt no love nor lust for and so proved to be a dampener for his fun, amongst other things.

He sighed out of frustration, halting his hips as he laid his head against Mysaria's shoulders. He pulled out roughly, tugging a blanket over his naked form as he trudged towards the window in a hollowing mix of rage and despair. His eyes found the stars, seeking comfort in their luminous glow as his mind flitted over myths and legends of constellations etched into the dark sky.

Mysaria followed, consoling the man as she praised him. But her words had no effect on him, so she offered him something more instead.

"I could bring in another? Perhaps one with silver hair."

Daemon was tempted to say yes, urged to give in to his fantasies and imagine.

But it wouldn't be what he wanted. No, the whores of Silk Street - the bastards of the Targaryen line, although their hair grew white it wasn't the right shade. Too different for him to be able to pretend.

And Daemon didn't want to pretend.

Twisting his fingers and tugging strands of golden-white hair were a mere illusion for the girl he pretended he wanted.

The girl he truly desired was one he would never taint, her hair brighter and longer - the wisps of her soft, white hair were their own streaks of light, like beaming stars in the night sky.

No, it wouldn't be the same.

It wouldn't be what he wanted - what he needed.

Daemon Targaryen wanted Saenyra. But he knew he could not have her.

He would not take her, for fear of corrupting her. Of ruining her, and breaking her beyond repair.

Taglist: @marihoneywk @ahristata @gracielikegrapes @luanasrta

[rhey-007]

Helios - Chapter 1

Father!Homelander x daughter!reader (platonic)

Summary: A fatherless girl finally meets with him after her mother's death. Little does she know that from this point on, her life will fall apart. She'd meet a lot of new, interesting and disgusting people and experience a lot of traumatizing events. Will she be able to choose the right side and take control of her own fate?

Warnings: violence, overpowered reader with mental weaknesses, family fluff

A/N: Rreader is 15 here so that makes Homelander around 33, just so you know. I made Homelander a naturally born supe. His mother died while giving birth so he was raised by his grandparents, his father was just a one night stand (still soldier boy). It's not really mentioned in the fic though so I thought I should explain it here how it is possible that him and reader's mother met when they were teens.

Helios - God of sun.

Wordcount: 4073

Masterlist

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Chapter 1: Sunrise

Your mother was once in love with a wonderful boy, who wasn’t interested in girls, but her... Oh... she was his whole world, his sunshine. He would’ve done everything for her, even kill... He was just perfect. Soft blonde hair your mother liked to play with, ocean blue eyes she found herself lost in so many times, big smile with white, shining teeth, strong body and... super powers, the only thing she didn’t really like... Everything that later became your curse. They were still teens when Alice got pregnant. She had no idea how that happened as she took pills and always made your father use condoms. Maybe it was because of his powers – she thought. Maybe his sperm was just so strong... She had no idea. Even though she knew your father loved her, Allice was till afraid to tell him, afraid that he would run away, that he would hurt you... And unfortunately she was right... One day the pair was ona a walk in the forest, enjoying their time, talking and laughing happily when your mother’s stomach started to hurt beyond endurance. It worried the boy and he ultrasounded her belly after placing her down under a tree. What he saw terrified and angried him. He was furious, thinking she cheated on him, as he believed he was sterile because of his powers. The boy had no control of himself in that moment and attacked your mother before she has managed to explain, throwing her back. Her back hit a tree, and another one, and another. Every one of them breaking until she lost the speed and collapsed unconscious under one of them. It was only then that your father understood what he had just ddone that he hurt his sunshine. Frightened by it he didn’t even check if she was alive and fled, leaving the two of you alone. He later forgot about you, but he never did about your mother. His first and last true love...

Your mother told you this story on her deathbed. You didn’t know why yet, but you appreciated it later. You already knew then that the all mighty Homelander was your father, she told you and you didn’t believe at first. But when she showed you their photos and compared your powers, you believed. You watched her die of breast cancer when you were 15. You were scared of your fate but soon a strange woman walked into your life, like a guardian angel. Her name was Madelyn Stillwell, the head of an organisation called Vought, and she offered to take care of you. You weren’t sure at first but you had no better option than that. The woman took you to the Vought Tower, where you met the seven. Well... actually six as one of them was departed on a mission. You quickly became friends with The Deep and Queen Maeve, and the team welcomed you in warmly. You even got your own room there, which wasn’t in some basement nor was some kind of a laboratory as you would’ve expected. No, it was a nice, teenage friendly room. Almost the same as the one you had back home. To your surprise, almost all your stuff was there too.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

A few days passed when you finally had a chance to meet the seventh and most important member of the seven – your father, Homelander. You were ordered to join him in the meeting room after the group finished their meeting.

‘’H-Hi... dad...’’

You whispered as you slowly and hesitantly enetred the room. The man had his back turned to you, hands behind his back as he watched the town. You could already see that he was strong and powerful, just by his posture. When he heard your voice he turned around rapidly, scaring you a little. You didn’t have to say anything more for the man to recognise you.

‘’Alice?...’’

The man asked soon. You looked so much like your mother for him, although you thought otherwise. You looked like his younger, female twin. You were perfect, just as he was. That’s also why you were successful with boys, which pissed you off if you had to be honest. You looked down sadly at your mother’s name, tears filling your eyes as you remembered everything about her. You didn’t mean to cry on your first encounter but there you we’re, standing in front of the allmighty Homelander sobbing your eyes out. John noticed your sad expression and walked up to you. His hand found it’s way to your chin and slowly pulled it up, making you look at his face with a soft smile.

‘’Don’t cry little one... You still got me...’’

The man was suprised when you threw yourself at him, embracing him in a hug and letting tears fall down your cheeks and soak his costume. He didn’t complain though, he was just happy to have his Alice back in some way. He hugged you back, rubbing your back to calm you down. Soon you pulled away and wiped your eyes.

„Sorry... „

You mumbled unable to look him in the eyes.

„It's okay... Look at me”

His voice was soft yet still firm. When you finally looked up at your father, you could see the hurt in his yes, just as he could in yours. He missed Alice every day since he left. The man even tried to kill himself in the first weeks as he couldn’t live with the thought that he might have killed her. Then, Vogelbaum found him, like a guardian angel, just as Madelyn found you, and helped him come out of misery. He made him even stronger than he was. Even madder... Even crazier... Which you had no idea about yet. After a short while you broke the silence with a soft laugh as you couldn’t hold it in anymore. John doing the same, his white teeth were just as shining as your mother described them to be.

‘’Okay, enough of this sadness. Let’s go and check out if you’ll kick your old man’s ass, shall we?’’

He smiled brightly down at you and offered you his arm which you took happily and soon the two of you left to the training area.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You watched as Queen Maeve fought some guys. She looked so flawless, graceful, beautiful. Homelander's tap on your shoulder shook you out of trance.

„Margaret! I assume you already know my little ray of sunshine, Y/N? „

You walked up to the woman after she finished, your father's arm wrapped around you as he led you towards the ginger.

„Of course I do! We've been spending every dinner break together for the past few days. Still can't believe she's yours though”

The woman said with a chuckle, earning a soft, displeased frown from the blonde.

„Yeah... Anyway... I wanna check if she's as strong as her daddy. Mind helping us? „

Homelander asked with a toothy grin. Maeve nodded obediently and lined up several mannequins while your father positioned you at the other end of the room.

„Wh-what am I supposed to do exactly? „

You asked nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You barely used your powers after an unfortunate incident in primary school. You would never forget about that terror...

„Easy, just use your lasers. You should have them”

„Oh... U-um... I... I-I don't know how to use them... „

You whispered afraid, your body shrinking in his embrace. The man looked down confused and tightened his grip.

„What do you mean. Don't. Know? „

He hissed, making you scared even more.

„Well... I-I don't use my powers... Especially lasers... They just come out in random moments... Usually when I'm angry... And I don't control it at all... „

You explained while looking down.

„Then we'll teach you! „

Homelander's demeanour changed quickly and now he was all happy and smiling again – you had to admit his smile was terrifying and you had no idea how your mother fell for it. His happiness was caused by the fact thet he was excited you would be able to do all the father-daughter activities, just in a different version. After a tiring lesson you collapsed under the wall your father threw you on.

„John! Oh my god Y/N, are you okay?! „

Margaret scolded the man and run up to you. You just nodded while breathing heavily. Nothing happened to you thought, as you were indestructible just as them, and a little bit more.

„I'm okay... Just have enough... For the rest of my life... „

You breathed out with a smile and earned a soft giggle from the Queen. She picked you up bridal style and shot Homelander a furious look.

„Come on! She’ll be fine! . I didn’t even use half my strength! „

Homelander huffed. He expected you to be perfect from the start, but it turned out you weren’t. He was disappointed. You on the other hand, didn’t care about it at all. You weren’t going to become a superhero just as your father, it was never your thing, it never excited you. The fact that you could fight and defend yourself was enough.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Maeve took you to your room, placed on the bed and sat down beside you. She brushed her fingers against your bruises with a heavy sigh.

‘’I told him to go easy on you...’’

She mumbled. You found yourself really attached to Margaret after just a few days of your stay there. She reminded you of your mom, both had ginger hair and a beautiful smile, so you weren’t much surprised when you discovered she and John were a thing. You nuzzled into her hand when it met your cheek and said after closing your eyes.

‘’Don’t worry, they’ll disappear in few minutes’’

‘’They will?’’

Queen asked confused which made your eyes fly open.

‘’Yeah... I-Is it weird?...’’

‘’Oh no, no! It’s just that... John heals like a normal human, so I thought you did too. But good to know you’re not his exact copy’’

Both of you smiled at yourself after her words. You actually were glad you weren’t 1:1 with Homelander. Maeve on the other hand started to feel that deep down you were almost nothing like him, that you were stronger... Way stronger... And it wasn’t a good sign, for both you and Homelander. He could go nuts if he realized that and he could hurt you, as there could only be one strongest supe and it was him...

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

After a few months of extreme trening sessions later, you were finally able to control your powers. It made Homelander proud of his baby. It was also the time when you could finally go back to a normal school instead of being homeschooled. You had enough of staying all day in the tower, having to deal with the childish behaviour of Deep and A-Train, and constant fear of accidentally seeing Translucent naked. But Homelander was afraid to let you go. He was scared that if you went back to school you would find some stupid friends that would keep you away from him and that you wouldn’t like to spend time with him anymore. All of that wasn’t true, you could never do that to him as first of all - he was your father and second – he tried his best to be a great father, sure it didn’t work well all the time, but he still tried! And you felt attached to him anyway.

The man insisted on taking you there himself, he wanted to be there for your first day as a father should. But Madelyn categorically forbade him it - obviously. Although Homelander was too stubborn to listen to her and started to plan a way to be there. Then it was your job to talk him out of it.

‘’Dad...’’

You sighed tiredly as you watched John make a tenth circle around your room while discussing the plan. He had you gone in the first half.

‘’DAD’’

You had to repeat as the man didn’t notice you call him. Eventually you got up from your bed and shouted, only then taking him out of the trance.

‘’DAD! Ugh... I know you want to be there for me but the world is not ready to find out you have a child! Thye would think that if they had no idea of you beeing married, then presumably divorced, that means that I AM a child from a filthy romance without marriage AND sex before merriage, which all is a what? A SIN. Think about it! Besides... I don’t want kids in school constantly asking me about you. Not because I’m ashamed of you –because I’m not. But because it would be so tiring and I don’t want to be always compared to you and asked to do all that crazy supe stuff that obviously I CAN'T do... I just want to be a normal teenager... Please...’’

You took a deep breath after your little speech and looked at Homelander with hopeful eyes. He had to admit you got him in the first half. And you knew that. You knew that well, that’s also why you used the church argument. John let out a deep sigh then plopped down onto your bed.

‘’If that’s what you want...’’

You could see the sadness in your father’s eyes and hear it in his voice. God damn it. Why did he always had to play the sad card!? You sat down next to him and hugged his side.

‘’I promise I’ll make as many photos I’ll be able to and we’ll watch them together later. Okay?’’

‘’Okay’’

Homelander smiled down at you and placed a soft kiss to your head.

When the day came, Homelander made sure you had eveyrthing prepared. He packed your backpack the day before when you were asleep. He put there all important stuff and hid a note for you to find later. He even made you lunch himself! Maeve was really proud of him for that. You two also picked an appriopriate outfit the day before. It was a warm, olive green sweater with loose beige pants and your black sneakers. It screamed perfect. The man kissed your head goodbye and after a long and tight hug let you finally leave. He acted as if you were going away for good, but it was just a few hours of school! You never thought he could be so dramatic.

The day went by smoothly, at least for you. John on the other hand, sat in the meeting room all day, looking at the city and waiting for you to come back like a puppy. A few hours later you came back to catch your father asleep on his chair. You giggled at his ability to act like a stereotypical father after just a few months of your aquiantance. You left the meeting room quietly to soon come back with your blanket.

‘’Didn’t mean to wake you up’’

You said softly with a smile as you noticed him awake.

‘’You’re finally back. How was it?’’

John asked with a huge smile which you reciprocated. You sat down on his lap and showed him all the pictures you made, and there were a lot of them just like you promised. It took you so long that by the time you finished it was dark and you laid half asleep in Homelander’s embrace. The minute the man noticed your state he took you to your room and put in bed, wrapping in the blanket you wanted to give him earlier and placing a kiss to your forehead.

‘’Sleep good my little Helios’’

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

As the years passed you’ve spend less and less time with your father, because he noticed you getting stronger than him with every training. As much as his heart ached he could not let that happen, so he thought it would be the best. You didn’t like it at all either. You hated how he ignored you every time you tried to talk to him, or needed help in any way. You hated how he saw it normal to push his own daughter away just because some stupid powers! But you aslo hated yourself, your powers, and the fact that because of you him and Queen Maeve broke up. Even though Margaret assured you it’s not your fault you knew better. She always took your side which led to multiple quarrels with Homelander and eventual breakup.

At some point you started to rebel. To cause trouble. To stick your nose in where you were not wanted. That’s how you fathomed out the truth about Vought and your father. It didn’t devastate you - as you knew that such a big corporation had to have some dirt under their nalis – but the part about your father saddened you. You could’ve never thought he could kill anyone one... He was a SUPERHERO after all. But it turns out that he was just a super liar just like the rest of the seven. They have killed so many people... They were montsers... One day you stole the important files from the Vought’s databse and fled out of it. You didn't know why you did that. Maybe because you wanted the whole world to know but your hands were unable to post the photos you’ve made. When the seven notticed your disappearance they informed Madelyn and Homelander and only then did he remembered about your existance. He was the first one to start looking for you, but the one who found you was no other than Queen Maeve. She knew the secret place you went to after school when you wanted to be alone and went there in the first place. And she was right. You sat there, in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, clutching onto the cases and crying your eyes out. Your head snapped hearing the woman’s footsteps and got up quickly.

‘’Leave me alone’’

You hissed, your whole body trembling. Margaret noticed the files in your hands and understood why you’ve run away.

‘’Helios please... I-I know it looks bad but-’’

‘’BUT WHAT?! ALL THOSE DEATHS WERE JUST ACCIDENTS?!’’

You cut her off angrily, your voice shaking like crazy.

‘’YOU’RE JUST GLORIFIED MONSTERS THAT THINK THEY CAN DO EVERYTHING THEY WANT JUST BECASUE YOU HAVE SOME STUPID ASS POWERS! BOTH YOU AND THAT MOTHERFUCKER! HELL- ALL SEVEN OF YOU!’’

Your shouts could be heard from miles away, so it was to be expected that Homelander heard you, especially when he was so sensitive to your voice. It didn’t take him long to storm through the ceiling.

‘’Ugh great... Only you were missed here... Why do you suddenly care about ME! ‘’

‘’Because you’re my daughter and I worry about you’’

The blonde gritted out making you laugh stupidly.

‘’OH REALLY?! Then why do you pretend like I don’t exist! You’ve been ignoring me for such a long time!... You don’t care about me... You just don’t want anyone knowing about this... „

You waved your hand with the files.

‘’You’re just a stupid, egoist that only cares about himself and not the good of the people he is supposed to safe. It’s your only fucking job and you fuck it up too! You should not wear that cape just to stain it with blood of innocent... You should not wear that false patriotic mask if you do shit like that... AND YOU SHOULD NOT COMPARE YOURSELF TO GOD BECAUSE YOU’RE JUST A STUPID PUPPE-’’

You were cut of by Homelander’s hand meeting your stomach. He crushed you into a wall then gripped your neck tightly. You wriggled in his grip, trying to catch a breath, your hands clawing at his and begging for relief.

‘’How dare you disrespect me like that... I made you... You wouldn’t be alive nor so strong without me. You should be grateful I haven’t killed your mother’’

Homelander had no idea what came over him. He would never disrespect his love yet now it seemed as if he regretted not killing her – which wasn’t true. Something snapped inside of you at the mention of your deceased mother. The blood in your vains started to boil and you could feel it flow like crazy. You frowned furiously.

‘’I would prefer to DIE than to be recognised as your daughter’’

You spat on his face, making him loosen his grip on you and earning a few second for payback. You kicked him away with such force that his back met the wall at the other end of the warehouse.

‘’If you want to kill me so much, why don’t give it a try now, huh oldman?’’

Homelander gritted his teeth, he hated the alias, he wasn’t that old. He didn’t want to kill you, no... He loved you, you were his baby after all. But he also couldn’t let you go knowing their dirty secrets. It was too much to proces in such a short time but the man had no other option... A devilish smirk was painted on your face as you quickly met him there and proceeded to crush him into the brick wall. You’ve done it for a couple seconds but John was unfased. He chuckled at your attempts on hurting him, though his face seemed unmoved. Soon when he felt bored he grabbed your wrists and threw you to the floor. Now it was his turn to punch the shit out of you. If not Maeve he would get you knocked down after just 3 punches. The woman pushed him away and stood in front of you, protecting you like a mother would protect her child.

‘’She’s your daughter!’’

She cried out trying to mess with his head. But he knew well to not fall to her traps, especially since they've been through it so many times already.

‘’Which is why it’s not your fucking bussiness!”

You’ve watched as Margaret fell unconscious to the ground after Homelander threw her to the sky.

'’What have I done...’’

You thought, tears falling down your cheeks as you thought he killed her. Killed her because of you. The man made his way over to you and gripped your blonde hair tightly. He made you sat up and look up at him.

‘’Now you gonna cry? I thought you were as strong as me. Hell! Even stronger! But it turns out you’re just a weak and cheap copy. You’re pathetic...”

He hissed and tried to laser your head off but you’ve manage to accumulate the remaining strength and reciprocate the act. Your lasers met with a loud hiss. In that moment you remebered all the happy memories from your life, as you prepared yourself for death. But it backfired, bringing you even more power than you’ve ever had. You rose to you feet and got your hair out of John’s grip, all while not breaking eyecontact and still using the heat vision. He felt you overpower him. It terrified him and he couldn’t let you defeat him. The man used all his strength making you do the same. Both your visions were so strong that soon sparks started to appear and the force pushed you away from each other. But neither gave up, giving all you’ve got. The hall started to feel warmer with every second making you realize something was wrong, yet before you noticed it was too late. Your laser visions caused an explosion and the whole warehouse blew up into the sky. You stood there, numb in the falling dust looking at the remainings of the building. Neither Homelander nor Queen Maeve were nowhere to find. They must’ve been burried under the concrete. To your surprise you quickly found Margaret and dug her out. She was alive. A smiled formed on your face as you watched the woman breath heavily. She was still unconscious and a little bruised, but she was alive. You couldn’t care less about your father thought. You stood up from where you knelt next to the ginger and looked around once more. In that moment you’ve decided it was time to disappear. To play ‘dead’ and never ever come back as Homelander’s daughter.

It was the end of a chapter.

But just a begining of your story...

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🔅 🔅༓･*˚⁺‧͙

A/N: If you made it here, here you go 🍬🍭. You deserve it. Thanks so much for reading, I hope you liked it! 💞

Next Chapter

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

following up on the Alastor during different points of his life, how would he be in high school with the reader? given his time period I feel like things would be really difficult especially if the reader is white coded y’know, so what would that be like for him? and the reader too? also maybe the reader could be on the wealthier side, while Alastor isn’t?

A/N: I love detailed requests like this <33, so thank you so much! But this is a really messy concept, for everyone involved, but i love it.

No title for this one since I can’t think of anything :(

Alastor goes to a completely different school than you do

Almost every day you have great lunch, bus is on time, you’re books are brand new, everything is pristine down to the uniforms

For Alastor, the bus is late or breaks down on the way there, the students don’t have proper uniforms, some either wear the uniform or have a passed down uniform that most likely doesn’t fit them. The books are worn and torn, sometimes pages are missing, and the lunch is most times anything other than edible.

Your schools are only a few yards apart, however your bus always gets there quicker while his sometimes takes two hours to get there, and most times he needs to walk mid way while the bus is getting fixed

Your schools are in a secluded part of the town, with a lot of trees and forest behind it.

During your free period you sneak out of your school and over to his, thankfully your free period is his lunch period and you always have left overs

You two talk a lot, either about what your working on or just anything in general

During this time Alastor really fancies going to the north, he wants to get out of louisiana and start a new life

“If that’s what you want to do then I support you.” You always say and while he appreciates it, he’s always thought about asking you to go with him

By the time the year comes to a close you two see less and less of each other

You pick up a summer job at a boutique, he ends up working with his mother in a supermarket

on one of your days off, you stop by, not knowing he works there of course, and begin to get things off your list

You’ve never gone around his part of town much, your father forbid it, but he didn’t need to know you were there, as long as you went home with groceries you were fine right?

so when you began to ask his mother for help, he almost died of a heart attack watching the two of you talk

“Potatos are on isle seven dear, and cinnamon is on three with the rest of the spices.” His mother says kindly, and you smile finally having some sense of direction in the store

Alastor is quick to work the register, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and it works

Along with a lot of other customers giving you strange looks, what’s a white girl doing in a colored store? cant she get fined for that? is she crazy? lost?

“Oh! Hello Alastor.” You say with a smile as he grins back at you.

“Hello my dear, I see you’ve met my mother.” He says as he begins to total the things you’ve picked out.

“Oh that’s her? She’s such a sweet woman, really.” You say back, pulling out a few dollars and some quarters go pay him.

“That she is, though I must ask what brings you to this part of town?” He questions, and at this your face heats up quickly before you brush it off.

“Well, I’ve just gotten off of my shift, and father mentioned he needed to go grocery shopping so I figured i’d do it for him.” You say as Alastor writes your total down. You don’t wait for him to give it to you, instead you hand him all the cash and quarters you have in your pocket.

“This is well over what you owe.” He says grinning, he knows what you’ll say next, but it’s fun to watch you become so proud of yourself.

“Yes, however I don’t have any use for the rest, so I believe you can keep it. Good day Alastor.” You say smiling and grabbing the bagged items. He smiles and just puts the money away, his mind is already running on how to make it up to you.

your father never notices where you got the groceries, he only cares he didn’t need to drop more money to get it

When the next school year rolls around this time you both are in the eleventh grade, this is your most important year

You’re stressed with papers and exams every other week, Alastor is swamped with having to help other students as a tutor, his lunch period now being the only time he can see you

However, your schedule isn’t the same, now your free period is during a class of his and now he’s sneaking out more than once to see you, most of the kids in his grade have stopped showing up, most did after the eighth grade

You rant and complain about how stressed you are, and how you can’t wait for the year to be over so you can finally breathe

Alastor laughs and for the first time in his life he can truly feel how fake it is, he’s never been more stressed in his life and though your books might be better the work is just the same especially since he’s in the gifted program

you ask about his mother time to time and he appreciates you thinking of her, no one really asks

he tells you of his plan to go to New York, how excited he is and how much he’s saving, how his mother has been picking up extra shifts to bring in enough

this is when he asks you to come with him, but you tell him you can’t, that you can’t leave your family, your parents or siblings, how your life is here

he understands, it hurts him to leave his mother, she’s the only family he’s ever known, ever had, he hates leaving her behind

but he promises to come back, that he will come back to Louisiana, and you smile because you believe him

when graduation comes he waits until your parents retire for the night before knocking at your front door, he’s risking a lot for this, but he needs to see you before he goes

When you answer the door hes overjoyed, and you wrap him in the tightest hug he’s ever felt before, even though he doesn’t feel many

He hands you flowers with a small congratulations, and you smile and tell him the same, before you remember something

“Oh! I almost forgot!” You say, before you stop and turn to him, opening your front door. “ I’ll be right back, don’t move.” You say, and take off into the house. He smiles and waits, taking in your neighborhood. It’s clean, large houses, perfect sidewalks and a nicely paved street

you come back with an envelope in hand, and when you hand it to him he shoots you a look. What is this?

He opens it to find a large sum of cash, he can’t even begin to imagine how much your handing him. He shakes his head and hands it back.

“I cant accept this.” He says, his smile tightening. He’s upset. Do you think he needs this? But you smile wider and insist.

“For new york silly, everything is crazy in this big apple. If not for you then for your mother, please. I saved it for you.” You say, and he sighs, lightly flipping through it.

“How much is it?” He asks, almost afraid of what you’ll say.

“Seven Hundred.” You reply, and his eyes widen, and his smile drops finally. This is the first time you’ve seen him without one.

“I cant possibly-“

“You must. Please. It’s not my parents if that’s what your thinking. I earned it, and I wanted to give it to you.” You say, before he’s silent

“I don’t need your charity dear.” He says, his smile returning. Clearly he’s annoyed by this point, but you don’t seem to care, if you can even tell

“It isn’t charity. It’s a gift. No one is ever too good for a gift.” You say crossing your arms, now he laughs. Your stubborn, you refuse to take it back. You’re not asking him to take it, your not giving him a choice.

“Alright, fine. However I’m not using this. I’ll give it to my mother.” He says, and you smile contently at that.

“I’m okay with that.”

[vawilcox]

Can I get an angst to fluff scenario where the reader some how snaps at Tamaki?

Sure thing!

As requested a Tamaki x Reader angst to fluff.

You stood angrily in the messy kitchen, arms crossed and left foot tapping repeatedly in agitation. The messy counter tops and dishes piled in the sink were driving you to the brink of losing your cool for the first time in your newly wed marriage to Amajiki Tamaki.

You stood staring at the mess still wearing your business suit and with the large purse you'd always take on business trips with you slung over your right shoulder. You were gone for a week, and from the state of the house, it had been about that long since the house had been cleaned last. How could one man make such a mess alone on the house for seven days?

You knew he was busy with his hero work but you were busy with your job as an accountant as well and you still managed to clean up after yourself AND your husband for the past three months. You were pissed. You never used to even think twice about the cleaning, you just did what needed to be done, but having him here by himself making such a mess while you were out there working hard to help setup a new branch in a city six hours away made you realize for the first time that you were the only one doing all the cleaning so far.

This. meant. war. Turning around, you walk back out the door, lock it, and call a taxi to take you to a hotel your company frequently uses.

-Two hours later-

Tamaki worked hard again today at work. He hated being around all the people, but what was worse was all the attention he got from people who saw his quirk for the first time. He liked to use the tentacles from eating octopus and squid to help wrangle in the villains, but sometimes a bystander would comment on it being gross, one even made a crude comment about him being a hentai because of it... That hurt. The only woman he'd ever been with was the love of his life, his wife, his precious one.

Thinking about her took the sting away from the pain of the insults and disgust from others, as well as calming the incessant pounding of his chest whenever he had to be around others. Other people... terrified him. But not his precious wife. She was all that was good in this world. For her, he could do anything, deal with anything. And he smiled lightly to himself on the train home, all while hiding his face beneath his hood. He knew she would be home today, and he couldnt wait.

The rest of the trip home was a blur of discomfort and pent up tension. Like a mantra Tamaki just kept reminding himself of the day it was- the day his love would come home from her business trip. The longest they had been apart since they had met over a year ago.

His smile widened as he neared the door to their home, and it was a full on toothy grin when he opened the door, expecting to see the love of his life waiting there for him eagerly.. but she was gone. The smile instantly died, but he looked around for you. The house was untouched since the last time that he came home, he hadnt had a lot of time to be home, only 2-3 hours a day to eat and sleep before his job called for him again. He missed you so much that he busied himself with work to distract him from the loneliness. He had been doing so much overtime every day blended in with the other and all he did when he got home was eat something quick and sleep.

But today was supposed to be different. He didnt take the extra shift today he had been taking, some days he would be working triple shifts, some days he'd be stuck doing an extra and a half.. but today he asked to come home as soon as possible. You were no where. The house literally was untouched.

He immediately pulled out his phone and called your number. No answer. After leaving a voice mail, he instantly started to text you, asking if you were okay and where you were. No answer. He started to have a full blown panic attack, grabbed out some old leftovers from the fridge to slam down so he could use them with his quirk and ran for the door. *Ding* the notification went off on your phone, a whole 3 minutes after your text. This wasnt normal for you two. Both of you always responding within a matter of seconds to each other since before the engagement. "I'm staying at a hotel until you can clean your mess up. Slob. 😤"

Tamakis heart froze as he read your text. He closed the door he just slung open, about to desperately search high and low for you. Opened the tiny shoe closet, walked in, and closed the door. Huddled into a ball Tamaki cried himself to sleep. The pent up exhaustion and the build up for you coming home all hit him like a freight train. He slept stone cold for 15 hours.

-3 hours after the fight-

You sat in your bed angry for maybe 15 minutes after you sent that angry text. Then you started to think about what you knew of your Tama and realized you were overly harsh to him. You texted him almost right away after you pulled your head out of your bottom but it was no use. He wasnt responding. Text after text you sent, he didnt reply. You started to panic. Quickly checking out of the hotel, you took a taxi home, it was faster, though more expensive, than the bus or the train. Getting home you worriedly looked at the phone again, nothing. Not even a sign that he had read your text.

Anxiety hit you for the first time in your life to the level that you knew your love had to deal with on a daily basis. You could barely breathe. You thought of all the worse case scenarios and your anxiety continued to spiral out of control. You finally arrived outside of your home, you practically flung the cash at the driver as you dashed out of the taxi and ran to the door to your house. Going inside you saw nothing. He was gone. The house was still a mess, but you didnt even care at this point... He even opened the fridge and never closed it this time... for a brief moment agitation struck you. Seriously!?- you thought. Then you stopped yourself. You realized that he was not in a normal frame of mind, and that it was your harsh words that must have been a dagger to his already fragile heart.

You called for him, but he didnt come. You took a walk in the neighborhood around your home, looking for him, calling for him, texting him, calling his phone. Nothing. He was just gone. You worriedly called his agency, they said that he hadnt contacted them since he clocked out, and that he said he would be taking an extra long time off so he could spend it with you. But he was gone.

Going home you brokenheartedly berated yourself. Mascara dripping down your face as you clung to the phone desparately with one hand, and tidied up the house with the second. Every 30 seconds or so you looked down at your phone, willing him to text or call you back. Sending another apology and a desperate plea for him to reach out to you. Within an hour the house was spotless. But he still hadnt gotten ahold of you. Grabbing a gallon of icecream and a spoon, you sat on the couch and put your favorite rom-com on. It didnt help. Mascara was all down your neck at this point I must look like a monster out of a horror movie by now you thought to yourself.

You spent the next 11 hours on that couch. Eating half the gallon and being too lethargic from the wave of depression and anxiety to even put the icecream away, you set the last half of the gallon on the coffee table. Not even caring that it would melt. Somewhere in the second half of the movie, you fell asleep, dreaming of your precious Tama leaving you for another woman because of how cruel you were.

A gentle touch and a familiar voice woke you. Opening your eyes with a start, you saw your Tama there. Red eyes brimming with tears as he looked down at you. He muttered something you didnt understand. Still groggy from your sleep but so excited to see him you mutter "Huh?" His lips start to quiver and his voice is shaky. "I'm s-sorry babe. I-I.. didnt mean to leave such a me-" You pounce on him before he can finish his statement. Clinging to him like you were drowning and he was a live persever and your own chance at survival. "Dont say it. Dont you dare say sorry, you dummy. It was my fault. I'm so sorry baby. It was my fault. I am so sorry I got mad at you." You plead for his forgiveness. "No, bunny, its my fault. I am so sorry I left such a mess. I wasnt home a lot while you were gone. I was too miserable to be in this empty house without you. Next time, I will make sure its clean for you when you get home." Tama states with a heart-wrenching determination. "What do you mean next time you stupid octopus. I'm never leaving you again."

You both spend the next three hours in each others arms. Whispering assurances to the other, crying, kissing, and something a little more private at the end. Your day ends with you both entwined breathlessly in each others arms, all of your needs met, all insecurities swept away with the pure affection and love you have for each other.