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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 days ago

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Summer (Cregan Stark x Reader)

Summary: As a Princess, you aren’t used to rejection. But Cregan, your husband, has vowed to only ever love one woman, and it isn't you. Right?

A/N: I can finally wrap up my romcom! Big romantic gesture ahead. Check the masterlist of this series here, if you are new. And to my lovely, lovely readers, thank you for staying wityh me during this madness.

Warnings: My anxious introverted reader being anxious (Shocker) Cregan has self-doubts. Mature language.

YOU ARE HAVING a terrible day. It surprises you because that doesn’t happen as often any longer. Today, you would rather not talk to anyone, much less Cregan, whose hovering would only serve to make you more anxious. Today, you want to crawl under the covers with your comfort book and pretend to be dead.

Yet, you cannot. Because you can’t find the damn book anywhere. You are sure the compilation of histories of Old Valyria Daemon had given you has to be in your rooms.

You have pulled open all your desk’s drawers, checked the bedside table twice, checked the bed, even beneath it. Not even your chest with linens was spared. It’s nowhere.

With little choices left, you have begun searching the nursery too, but haven’t quite mastered the courage to search Cregan’s solar. You remember taking the book alongside you to read as you kept him company sometimes, but do not recall leaving it there.

You feel torn. Cregan and you are getting along now, but you still hesitate going to him with your troubles. Not only you had leftover guilt even though you have both chosen to move on from your rivalry, you also prided yourself on being independent.

Asking him or anyone for help always makes you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want others to perceive you as weak.

Stop. You are being silly, you tell yourself. It’s not like you are about to ask him to solve your life, you only will inquire if he has seen your book.

Still. What if he thinks less of you for being careless with your things? Or if he thinks you are being overly sentimental to get this worked up over a book?

Worse, what if he thinks you are accusing him of stealing?

You let out a groan. You are overthinking. Your bad days often include a lot of anxiety, and today it is a bad day. A terrible one, that will be worse if you don’t find your beloved book. Determined, you march to Cregan’s solar and knock on his door.

“Aye?” He calls out, northern accent on full display, and you can’t help that your knees get a little weak.

“Cregan? May I come in?” Suddenly, your bravery and determination have deserted you. Your voice comes out squeaky as a mouse. By the Fourteen Flames, to love is to be humbled, it seems.

“You always may, wife.” You wince at being addressed as such. You suppose it’s a good thing he isn’t calling you by your full title any longer.

Pushing open the door, you step inside. Cregan is seated on his desk, a frown on his face. He is squinting at some maps, in the way he sometimes does. His frown softens when he sees you, standing on the door.

“I enjoy how my colors look on you.” Cregan rumbles, a pleased smile forming on his face. Today, you are wearing one of the warmest dresses you own, in a pale gray. It’s made of velvet, and you enjoy how it feels over your skin. You had commissioned it after you arrived at Winterfell, using the generous pocket money that Cregan allowed you.

You had to give it to the man. No matter how annoying you had been at first, he had never been tight-fisted with your allowance.

“Thank you.” You feel your cheeks heating up, and fight the urge to fan your face. What you don’t manage to fight is the urge to preen under his gaze.

Cregan chuckles. You narrow your eyes at him. Is he mocking you? He lifts his hands in surrender, attuned as he is to your moods.

“Apologies. It’s cute, that’s all.”

“The dress?”

“You.” And it’s said with such disarming honesty, you do not know what to say. You search his face, yet his expression is so open, so fond, no hint of mockery can be found. It’s… Cregan must be thinking of her, for sure. That expression doesn’t mean anything. “What were you here for?”

You clear your throat.

“Um. I was… I lost my book.”

“What book?” Cregan asks, shifting his maps aside. He is clearing his desk, you realize. “The one about the conquest?”

“No, not that one.” Your voice turns shyer still. Secretly, it pleases you that he remembers what you had been reading last week. “It has a brown leather cover and the title is in gold.”

“The one in High Valyrian?” And his tone is casual. Far too casual. You begin to worry that your book might have met its end. You look him in the eyes, but find little there. Cregan has an impeccable blank face. He gives nothing away. “Check the selves. Maybe it is there.”

You turn around and begin doing so. But the more titles you check, the more nervous you become. Cregan is an organized man, his books are carefully separated by subject. The servants know to keep to his order, when he rarely leaves them lying around.

Your book would stand out. You know it. A tight knot of anxiety begins to settle on your stomach. As you reach the lower shelves, you feel tears gathering in your lash line. You cannot believe you are about to cry over a book.

Cregan will never love you. He will go right back into thinking you are some soft southron, with no spine. No one cries over books. He will think you are ridiculous.

Despite your back being to him, he seems to sense something is wrong.

“Love? Is everything alright?”

“I cannot find it.” You whine, losing your battle with the tears. “My book. It’s really important that I find it.”

You hear him get up, and walk closer to you. He hugs you from behind, holding you to him.

“Shh… I know. I have been unkind to you.” You are confused about his words, but not enough that you reject the comfort of his embrace. Cregan is warm against your back, and smells faintly of parchment and leather. There is something herbal clinging to his skin, too. His smell and his size make you feel safe. He is tall enough that his form covers yours completely.“I took your book.”

You flinch. Your hackles begin to rise. Your sadness leaves, clouded by absolute wrath.

“What?”

“I wanted to gift you something. It’s being copied by the Maester as we speak. I wanted it to be a surprise, I know how much you love it.” He nuzzles your neck, and it pacifies you slightly. The prospect of a gift entices you, especially if it is a copy of your favorite book. Perhaps Cregan will have it nicely bound. “I regret it now. Knowing how much you love it, I should have known it would upset you.”

“I wanted to read it today.” You complain, still sad. It has been an awful day for you. “I do not feel so well.”

“Of course, sweetling.” Cregan drops a kiss to your crown. “I’ll have it delivered to you. Would you mind lending it to me tomorrow? You can recall it anytime during the day if you need it, like now.”

“Alright.” You whisper, softly. Cregan gathers you in his arms again, and moves the two of you to the loveseat. There, he settles you in his lap. He takes of his cloak and drapes it over you. This way, you are fully surrounded by his warmth and smell.

He calls a servant. True to his word, the book is back in your hands in less than half an hour. You spend the rest of the afternoon reading in his lap.

Suddenly, your bad day doesn’t seem so bad.

WHEN HE FEELS like an inconsiderate brute, Cregan tries to think happier thoughts. While grief and self-doubt do not chase him as much as they chase you, he is still a widower with a wife who despised him at first.

Often, gazing upon Rickon or you is enough to help him feel more settled. More at peace with himself. His son is well adapted enough, he reasons, as he sees him run around the courtyard. You do not despise him, he thinks, as you curl by his side.

Today, neither is working. Rickon and you are together, a picture that normally would serve to pull him out from his brooding. Of course, since Rickon is on the floor wailing, it isn’t quite working.

Cregan has a headache. The pain is spreading from his jaw, towards his cheekbones, and from there turning into sharp icicles that feel like they are being stabbed in his skull.

The day has been long. He had ridden out at dawn to deal with some wildings near Wintertown, and then had to answer his correspondence. The dammed Greens would not stop pestering him to switch sides and hand you over, alternating between threats and flattery.

As if the Starks were some miserable turncloaks who betrayed their oaths. As if Cregan would just hand over his wife to some usurping cunts.

The nerve of those Hightowers knew no bounds. What was next? Demanding a Sept be built in Wintertown for those false gods of theirs?

And if that wasn’t enough to make his day terrible, during the afternoon Cregan had received an outraged Sara. Apparently, for some unknown reason, she had received an offer to become Lady Cerwin And for another unknown reason, it was the most terrible fate. Ever.

Rickon keeps screaming. He has been that way for a while. Cregan had been alone with him, watching him play on the rug with his blocks, when he had started crying and wouldn’t stop.

Cregan had tried picking him up, rocking him, walking him back and forth, but nothing helped. One of the servants must have heard and alerted you because you had appeared looking disgruntled.

You had been in the middle of your quiet time, as Cregan enjoyed calling it. Awkward Princesses who hated socializing needed time to recover from hearing petitions during the day. He had realized so when he started teaching you to pass judgement.

As the time for Cregan to march south to defend your mother’s claim became more imminent, he was giving you more and more responsibilities in Winterfell. That way, you would be prepared to hold the North when he left. Prepared to protect his Kingdom and his son.

“Tower! Tower!” Rickon wails, as you pick him. Your face is as tired a Cregan feels. His head is heavy. He cannot stand Rickon screaming any longer. By the gods, Cregan is a terrible father. He cannot even calm his son when he needs him. After his many attempts to calm him down were unsuccessful, he had just set him down.

“What’s the matter, sweet boy?” You ask, holding Rickon close to your heart. Rickon continues to cry. You meet Cregan’s eyes over his son’s head.

Cregan shrugs. He is unsure of what triggered the tantrum.

“Shh, all is well. I get overwhelmed too, sometimes.” You say, and Cregan gets the feeling you are talking to him and not to Rickon. “But we can’t rebuild your tower if you are getting all wiggly.”

This is about the building blocks, Cregan realizes. He feels like a terrible father. A failure.

Bennard’s words come to mind once more. How can you govern the North if you can’t govern yourself? You failed.

Your swordsmanship is poor, and you still are a pup crying for your parents. You cannot rule.

He had heard a variation of those words for years, every time he had tried to push his claim. And look, Cregan knows he is not a poor swordsman, and he has tried his best to rule. Men don’t cry, but he does it occasionally. Rarely. His tears never dry out, no matter how old he grows, but it is the only thing of Bennard’s words that came true. That isn’t so bad, is it?

You have settled on the floor, Rickon on your lap. He still cries, but he has stopped shrieking. You have started building a tower on your own.

“I think I will place my princess here. And a dragon here.” You explain, as if you are building some great castle. Rickon stares, transfixed by you. Cregan understands the feeling all too well. He remembers the weight of you in his lap, the warmth of your skin against him, your smell. He has been unable to get the memory out of his mind in days.

It would be pleasant, a session of cuddling with his wife, were it not for the circumstances that lead up to it. All Cregan’s fault.

“A shame you want to keep crying and won’t help. I suppose I shall have to ask your father to play with me.” Your eyes are coy. You give Cregan a glance, and his lips form a smile despite himself. Of course you would try bribery.

Of course, it works. Rickon picks up the first block, still sniffling.

“No! Father isn't a Princess. You are!”

“You are right, Rickon.” You agree, as if it were the most natural thing. “Silly me. He is a wolf. We should build him a Wolfswood.”

And so, Rickon forgets his tantrum, settled by your gentle touch and encouraging words. And Cregan’s heart soars.

“MILADY, LORD STARK wishes for your company.” One of the serving girls says, eyes downcasted. You pause in your perusal of the granary, making a quick note on your ledger. As the Lady of Winterfell, it falls to you to ensure the castle has supplies enough for winter, or so Cregan says. You find the Northern’s obsession with the season a bit much, but considering little grows here, you too would feel better knowing you have enough grain if something happens.

“Right now?” Considering he had been the one to send you on this errand, it confuses you a little. He must have known taking stock of the granary would take you all day.

“As soon as you can come. It’s not urgent, but he wishes to see you soon.”

You feel nerves creep up on you. Cregan never summons you. When he wants your company, he simply appears near you or waits for a meal to invite you to spend time with him.

You can’t help it. War and grief had frayed your nerves. These days, you feel like everything could be a sign of bad news.

It’s not urgent, you repeat to yourself. It’s not urgent, it’s not urgent, you chant in your head, but your steps towards the inside of Winterfell are hurried.

The castle is unusually quiet. The maid guides you to one of the unused wings of the castle, one near Cregan’s rooms. You have never asked, but you know these were the rooms his uncle used to inhabit when trying to usurp him. The man had never dared taking the lord’s rooms from Cregan, lingering near instead, a feeling you understand too well.

Your husband is a formidable man. You wouldn’t want to cross him, either.

The serving girl hesitates when the two of you reach a big oaken door.

“What is it?” You ask her, with a frown. “Why do you linger?”

She doesn’t answer. She simply shoots you a shy smile. Annoyed at her shyness, you push the door open yourself. Your breath catches.

When you step inside, it is as if you are stepping inside your storybook. The walls are covered with tapestries depicting some of the prettier illustrations, priestesses wearing amethysts, dragons of shining ivory, lovers holding hands.

The room is decorated in understated creams and golds, the furniture made of the finest woods. Despite the themes of the decoration, it is clearly meant to be a Lady’s solar, even if not attached to your rooms.

There is a soft, woven carpet that cushions your every step. It is made of pure white fur, to combine tastefully with the rest of the decoration. You can already tell it will feel like heaven on your bare feet, even through your boots. It must have cost a fortune.

Near two, giant windows, a low table sits. It holds a vase very familiar to you, shaped in the form of a dragon. It is filled with winter roses, though you had seen it before in Dragonstone, full of your mother’s favorite flowers.

There is a fireplace, as it is customary in almost all the rooms in Winterfell. On its mantle, small toys and mementos from your childhood sit. Near the fireplace, a small sitting area awaits, with comfortable looking armchairs and loveseats, and a low table in which a tea set, painted with Valyrian motives, rests.

There is a desk in a corner, much bigger than yours, and a small bookshelf, that resembles the layout Cregan has in his own solar. It has sparse books, but all of them are in High Valyrian. Your favorite book has a place of honor, right in the middle of the highest shelf.

Yet, the true star of the room lies on the back of it. There is a huge round table, like the one from your stories, made of sturdy wood, that resembles the one from the war room from Dragonstone. Not only are the Seven Kingdoms featured, but also Essos, Sothoryos, the Summer Islands and even Great Moraq. Cregan is in the middle of lighting the table, struggling with how one is supposed to do it.

“How..?” You babble, astonished. To assemble this… You understand now why he had needed your book so many times. The time and care put into building this room, so delightfully whimsical yet honoring your culture at the same time… Your eyes prickle with tears.

“We can send it back.” Cregan says, alarmed by your tears. “If you…”

“No!” You say, with an energy that surprises you. You take the candles from his hands and begin lighting the table the proper way. “This is… My home. And my book.”

Cregan’s face is uncharacteristically unsure.

"I hoped it would remind you of where you came from. Of whom you are. A Princess of Dragonstone. My Princess.”

“You did this… for me?” Your hands tremble as you set the table alight. All the known world, on display for you. In a war table. It is only then that it registers.

Cregan is willing to go to war for you. Kill in your name. Lay the whole world at your feet. You have to grip the back of one of the chairs as to not fall down, knees weak.

“I know you are far from home. And I haven’t… We haven’t always been on the best terms, but you never shied away from your duties. I wanted to give you something that was about you.”

“I never thought you saw me.” You whisper. “I… I owe you an apology. For everything. For insulting you, when I arrived, for speaking of Lady Arra, for… For not seeing you either, at first.”

You have been blind, you realize, as you look at your book come to life in this room. The man who had given it to you had shown you that one could form a family with a widow and cherish their sons as if they were your own.

Daemon wasn't a kind man, but he was loyal to family. You were far kinder. If he could do it, and be happy, so could you.

“There is no need to apologize to me.” Cregan gathers you in his arms, and presses a kiss to your lips. His own are chapped from the cold, yet the only thing you feel is his warmth. And for two people as different as winter and summer, you find that your bodies do understand each other.

It takes Cregan but a week to convince you after that. The first letter you write in your new desk begins as it follows:

“Dear Jacaerys, I want you to know that I am completely, perfectly, incandescently happy…”

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x female reader #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan stark x oc #cregan x oc #cregan x y/n #cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #hotd cregan #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #asoiaf fanfic #asoif/got #asoif fanfic #hotd #seasons of my love series

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yandereend · 9 months ago

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Yandere nerd x gn reader x yandere pretty boy

TW : faked death, yandere stuff, i dunno bad things, reader is kinda delulu

Special thanks to -👠anon

Your dead.

He was devastated, you were his life, his saving grace, his entire existence.

It all started when you meet Jake in class. He was the kind of nerd everyone picked on. Tall but scrawny, his clothes were past down from his brothers, his hair overgrown and his acne scars didn’t make him any more appealing.

He felt like he had nothing in life. His family didn’t care for him, his parents even told him straight up at some point that he was a mistake. His grades were bad, i know shocker. Sadly he only appeared like a nerd. The only thing he had going on for him were yandere stories.

He was the type of guy to listen to the asmr, to read the stories, to write with character AI and hope to find the love of his life.

He often pondered during class if one of his classmates could be the one, or the guy on the bus, maybe the girl at the supermarket, a teacher, there was that guy with-

Class this is yn, be nice.

Its you, it was always you.

This is the moment he always dreamed of, your his darling.

The moment he saw you he knew it was over. He followed you in the halls, watched you every moment in school, he even signed up in the same classes as you.

And the best part about it all was you. You treated him so well, you never made fun of him, even in class you helped him with math. That must mean you love him, thanks darling.

He never had any type of real friends but this must be it. And next you will be his partner. He planned everything out, ask you out, then go to a restaurant and then to the cinema.

But then there was Dorian.

The biggest asshole in school his complete opposite. Pretty, rich, popular, charismatic and you new boyfriend.

Jake never stopped watching. He wanted to make sure Dorian didn’t mistreat you. He always wanted you to be safe…

So here he was at you’re funeral.

He cried harder than everyone else, standing out beside your family and friends who tried to stay put together. He was a mess and he felt anger knowing you never knew how much he loved you.

But where is Dorian ?

He knew Dorian shared feelings similar to his, that much was clear after all his stalking. So why didn’t anyone see your dead body and the person you were closest to was nowhere to be seen?

Jake was maybe not the smartest but far from the fool Dorian took him for.

He will find you and bring you to your actual home.

💛Thanks for reading let me know if you want more <3 requests are open and i hope you have a great day 💛

#obsessive yandere #soft yandere #yandere community #yandere core #yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere bf #yandere fiction #yandere stories #yandere nerd #yandere loser #yandere oc #yandere love #yandere post #yandere concept

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 7 months ago

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Moments in Time - Quinn Hughes Edition

Word Count - 2300

Summary - The eight times Quinn Hughes showed his love through the ring camera that he didn’t even want in the first place.

Warnings - none pure fluff I know a true shocker if you aren't new here

Author's Note: Hello everyone as always thank you for reading. This is apart of a "Moments in Time" series that I wrote eight moments each of the Hughes brothers. The fics are individual stand alone pieces, they can be read in any order, or you could only read the one brother you want.

Jack Hughes Edition. Luke Hughes Edition.

I have to give credit to my girl Kay @icebound-imagination for not only helping come up with the original idea! But literally stayed up late one night to help me detail plan all three Hughes brothers fics because I didn't want any repeated ideas. Kay also wrote some of the concepts and hers are noted as "Kendra's Version."

Main Masterlist

When you mentioned to Quinn the first time that you wanted to get a ring doorbell he gave you that famous “what the fuck” Quinn Hughes look. But then when you told him about how you really just wanted it in Vancouver because of how much time you spent completely alone in the apartment. To this day, you swear you’ve never heard Quinn agree to anything so fast. Truthfully you just wanted to watch your neighbor’s new puppy growth. But you knew that if there is anyone who hates you having to be completely alone for so long with no family around it’s Quinn. So really it was best of both worlds, Quinn felt more at ease with the ring camera and you got to watch the next door neighbor be ridiculously cute everyday on the way to their walks.

Early Morning Goodbyes

Quinn had to leave early many times throughout the season. Although he always kissed you goodbye on the cheek, because you were still deep in sleep you both knew you wouldn’t remember it. Learning this after the first time he did kiss you goodbye before leaving for a roadie and you didn’t remember it at all. To say you were mad at Quinn for not saying goodbye, you gave him the silent treatment for two whole days, only to discover you were the one in the wrong.

So the next time he had to leave home early due to an early flight for a roadie or hell, even an early morning skate. Of course he still kissed your cheek and whispered his goodbyes. But he started saying bye on the ring because he knew that way you’d see it when you were actually a functionable human being to society and would remember it.

2. Getting a notification

The main reason that Quinn agreed to getting a ring was because of how you said that you would feel safer when he was on long roadies. The first time that you came home from work and he was on a roadie, he was waiting for the notification to come on his phone. As soon as it popped up he clicked on it quickly, ignoring his teammates and the movie they had playing in the background. “Hi baby.” he said softly he didn’t wanna startle you. After a long day all you wanted to do was crawl into bed, “hi Quinny” immediately hearing his voice and feeling better.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be doing some team bonding?” Resting your forehead against your doorbell but looking directly at the camera.

“Oh I am Barbie is playing right now it was Brock’s turn to pick.” A soft laugh leaves both your lips at Quinn’s comment, your laugh continues when you hear Brock in the background telling him to “fuck off.” Quickly Quinn tells you that he’s gotta go but he will text you.

That was the first night you guys had a full blown conversation through your ring camera when he was on a roadie. But it became a little tradition every night when you got home if Quinn was out of town. Even if at the time he was in the middle of a game or an interview, everyday you would ring the doorbell and say “Quinny I’m home.”

3. Drop the attitude

Quinn and you didn’t fight often but when you did it was usually something serious. Today was not one of those cases, it was just one of those days where you were in a bad mood all day and you couldn’t pin point why. But every little thing Quinn was doing was getting on your nerves, to the point of you wanting to scream. From procrastinating on unloading the dishwasher, to being indecisive about what he wanted for breakfast. By the time you were trying to take a nap and he was yelling on Facetime with Jack and Luke you had hit your breaking point.

Storming into the living room and telling Quinn that he needed to leave the apartment because you needed time alone before you went insane. Quinn told his brothers he’d call them back and hung up. He tried to ask you what was wrong but you insisted that you needed him to leave. So he left but not without leaving a message on the ring camera.

“I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, baby. But what do you need for it to go away? Like do we need food? Are you hangry? Do you need cuddles and some quiet time? Cause whatever you need imma give it to you if you drop the attitude. Cause I don’t like when you want to kill me.”

4. Celebrating

Every home game that you went to it wasn’t unusual for you to uber from the apartment to the stadium. But you would always wait until Quinn was ready to leave to go home to the game. Tonight there was a home game and you were planning on going. But this week has been so long at work, you were debating on just watching it on T.V, ultimately you did decide to take an uber to the game. Never have you been so happy to not miss out on a game live. It was an insane game that turned out to be a shutout with no other than baby goalie as starter.

Quinn and you both decided to go to the local bar to celebrate with the team and other wags. After Quinn had 2 beers, and you lost track of the amount of rum and cokes Petey was giving you. Quinn decided it was time to call it a night. Once you got home, your not sure if it was the alcohol you both consumed or just still on a high from the game. But Quinn insisted on practically sprinting down the hallway to your apartment while you cheered about the game. Quinn has never felt so lucky the night when the ring camera was able to catch such an intimate private moment that neither of you would have remembered that morning without the video proof.

5. Playing pranks - Kendra’s Version

You had just settled onto the couch, a warm bowl of popcorn balanced in your lap as your phone screen lit up. You picked it up and checked to see you had a notification from the front door’s security camera. It was Friday night, which meant you weren’t getting any deliveries and your husband, Quinn, was home in the shower.

Curiously you click into the app, seeing what the footage showed. And it wasn’t much. But what you could see was some blonde hair and a toque. You knew exactly who that hair and that hat belonged to. What on earth was he doing?

Your finger hovered over the screen as you decided what to do about your husband’s teammate when the camera showed a flash of a stylish jacket, one that was definitely not the style of the blond hair and toque wearing teammate. Which meant his literal partner in crime was with him. And then it was like someone smashed their finger onto a fast forward button.

You were getting ready to use the two way microphone to ask what was going on when you heard a crashing noise. Your finger hit the button quickly as you yelled out “What on earth are you two blond himbos doing out there? Brock I swear to god if you’re leaving your laundry for me to do again I’m throwing it in the Pacific!”

You were too busy screaming to notice you weren’t the only one who heard the ruckus Dumb and Dumber had made. Quinn must have seen the security notification when he got out of the shower, heard your screaming, and now he was angrily stomping towards the front door and opening it up to figure out what was going on.

Brock, who must have tried to hide from the camera, was leaning against the door. Except the door was ripped open by your angry husband and Brock came tumbling backwards into the foyer. His signature smirk and deep voice trying to play innocent. “Hey Huggy.”

You decided it was time to get off the couch and look for yourself. As you pushed past Quinn and Brock you leaned against the door frame. This was when you noticed the white stuff all over and that Petey was doubled over in laughter.

This left Brock to be the one to fess up their master plan, “Well we figured it would be Quinn that would see the camera not you. He’s ALWAYS checking it in the locker room. After me and the Swede had too many tonight we wanted to have some fun. And what’s more fun than pranking the captain? We wanted him to open the door to pie him. Get glitter stuck in his playoff beard. You weren’t supposed to catch us, Y/N.”

You looked back at Petey, now understanding why he was sparkling under your porch lights.

“Sorry about the plant,” he wheezed.

You could feel Quinn’s glare get darker. Brock however was unaffected by the quiet brooding man. “Petey will pay for it because he makes more money.”

6. “Where the fuck you going in that dress?”

Quinn wasn’t as overprotective over you as people assumed he would be with his girlfriend. He trusted you and he also knew that you knew how to keep yourself safe when you were out with friends for a girls night. But at the same time he didn’t like it when you went out when he was on a roadie. Quinn made the comment about how when he’s a plane ride away it gives him anxiety when you're out with friends drinking. He said that he would feel terrible if something bad happened or even if you needed a ride home and he couldn’t come to you because he was on the other side of the continent. Since you weren’t a big partier anyway, from that night on you did tend to only go out if Quinn was in town. Never wanting to be the reason you brought your boyfriend to the breaking point with his anxiety.

But it was your best friend having her birthday and you couldn’t not go. It had completely slipped your mind about your new ring camera and how Quinn was basically addicted to checking it especially when he was on the road. After coming over to get ready at your place. Finally you were ready to order the uber and as you were locking the door, you heard Quinn’s voice “Where the hell are going in that dress?” You could tell from his voice that he was definitely a little annoyed. It was probably because he knew even from the shitty ring camera quality that this was your go to clubbing dress.

“Hi bubs. It’s Y/B/F birthday tonight.I know your out on a roadie which is why I didn’t tell you.” You said as you bent down so that your face was lined up with the camera. “I am realizing now that wasn’t my smartest idea. I promise I won’t be out long okay? I’ll text you as soon as I get home, Quinny.” Quinn could hear the guilt in your voice and it made his heart break a little.

“It’s okay baby girl. Just be safe okay. I love you. Also your making me miss you even more cause you look really really fucking beautiful in that dress.” As much as you tried to hide your blush you knew that you were failing miserably.

“Thanks Quinn. I love you.” as you stood up and blew a kiss to the camera.

7. Fidgety Hughes

Sometimes Quinn’s fidgeting was out of this world insane even for him. Whether it was that he sometimes let himself get lost in his head and didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. Or if shaking his leg or tapping his fingers on thighs calmed his anxiety. But sometimes his fidgeting was just adorable and this was no difference. Quinn was trying to unlock the door but his hands kept fidgeting probably due to the rough practice or maybe it was just from being tired. But after dropping his keys the fourth time you couldn’t help but chirp him through the camera.

“I hope you can handle a puck better than those keys Hughes.” Quinn couldn’t help but smile at your voice through the camera.

“Oh I can name a lot of things you tell me all the time I handle better than these keys.” playing along with your antics but with a flirty tone. But then of course he dropped his keys on the floor for the fifth time.

“Come on get it together bro.” you chirp.

“Don’t be such a brat, unless you need a reminder of who you beg to help you when you have an itch.”

8. Long Week

Quinn knows that you’ve had a long week and been very stressed because of it. So he stops at the store on his way home and grabs all your favorite snacks that he knows you will want later when you come home from work. He decides to ring the camera to tell you that he got all your favorite snacks and will be ready when you get home for a movie night or whatever you want. Even if it’s The Office which he never even saw a single episode until he met you and you forced him to. He also tells you that he already placed an order to your favorite restaurant for takeout.

#quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #qh43 #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #schwritingsqh43

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 18: First Impressions Are Often Correct

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eighteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 11.6K

Warnings: I'm going to rate this one 18+ just to be on the safe side. :) References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Mentions of Death, Blood, Gore, Possessive Soldier Boy, Protective Soldier Boy, Soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: I'm so sorry, I know this has been a long time coming. I work hard, but writer's block works harder tbh.

It had to be herogasm. You think to yourself with an audible groan looking up at the mid-century house from your position in the tree-line while watching the couples on the back porch writhe against one another.

The three hour drive from your apartment to Vermont had been uneventful and quiet. Every once in a while Ben would whisper something to you and you would half answer, but only because your mind was somewhere else or rather on someone else.

It was on Rosemary. She had stopped trying to text you or call you, and the silence was worse. You had no idea what she was going to do or what she was thinking. It was a miracle that she hadn’t shown up to your apartment and kicked down the front door before you left. You knew she was angry about the whole situation. And the sooner you dealt with the twins the sooner you could go see her.

Of course you still had no idea how you were going to bring up the conversation with Ben and you knew that there was no way he would let you just leave with no explanation to go talk to her.

This is why I hate texting. I should have just gone to see her, I shouldn’t have told her that Ben was back in a text, if anything that's a three drink minimum. Hell, she's probably half way through a second bottle of wine by now. Something that you also had considered several times today. Guess sobriety is going out the window. Shocker.

Ben kept asking you what was wrong, sensing your discomfort on the drive and held your hand tightly between the two of you, but you only shook your head whenever he asked. He thought that you were having second thoughts of going after the twins, but that was the one thing you were sure of. They deserved to pay for what they did, all of your team did. Anger rises beneath your skin like a roaring crowd when you think of all the years Ben spent alone in Russia being tortured and experimented on. Years that you could have stopped if only you'd known, years that he could never get back, memories that wouldn't fade in the next decade or two, and memories that you hoped you could replace by making him feel loved, by holding him close, and allowing yourself to forget the memories that still plagued you when you thought about the past.

But you still didn't know how the hell you were going to tell him about Rosemary. Every moment it felt like the words were going to vomit out of your mouth, but you clamped your jaw shut. You didn’t want to talk about Rosemary in front of Butcher and Hughie, didn’t want to tell Ben like that. What you needed to say about Rosemary and Lou didn’t deserve to be shouted at him or said in haste, you wanted to sit Ben down and tell him, give him time to adjust to the idea. Because you had no idea how he was going to react to the news that he was a dad and a grandfather.

Would he pull away again? Would he run? Would he leave me? Those thoughts kept swirling around your mind like a mixtape. You were scared that by telling him about her would make him go cold like he did the moment you told him you loved him. You remembered the distant look that replaced his smile as soon as you had uttered those three little words.

Little but not simple. Three little words that launched ships and started a hundred wars. Three little words with the power to create and the power to destroy. Three words that Ben had said to you more times than you could count since he came back to you, and three words you wished you never stopped hearing him say, the three words you always wanted him to say to you.

If Ben pushed you away now, you knew that you wouldn't survive it this time, knew that there was no going back. Which made you more fearful about Rosemary's reaction to Ben coming back into your life.

You were afraid that Rosemary would give you an ultimatum and make you choose between her and Lou or Ben. You really hoped that it didn’t come to that. You had just gotten Ben back and you didn’t want to have to pick between him and your family.

Because Ben is family too. You knew that deep down in your bones, even after everything that happened, Ben was your family. He was the only person who knew you inside and out, the only man you’d ever loved and the only person who understood you. You couldn’t turn your back on him and you didn’t want to shut him out. Not when you loved him more than life itself.

Your frown deepens as you continue to watch the people on the back porch while your supe hearing picks up the moans and sounds of the couples inside and the subtle thump of music, new pop songs that you didn't understand and didn't try. You were up with the times, but it didn't mean you had to like what was happening or the new music being produced no matter how hard Rosemary tried to get you to listen to it.

You sigh again, trying to drown out the sounds by focusing on the wind moving through the trees and the birds flitting through the branches overhead, but it wasn’t working. The beautiful day was already ruined by the loud and messy sounds from the inside of the house.

“Always wanted to bring you to one of these Sweetheart.” Ben glances over at you with a cheeky grin, lowering the binoculars from his eyes, but then he notes your frown. “Then again-“ His hand comes around your waist to pull you into him. “That means I would have had to share you with someone else, and I’d much rather have you all to myself.”

You can feel his smirk against your ear, but it does little ease your anxiety about Rosemary and the looming conversation you were going to have with Ben when this was over.

Hughie had disappeared a few moments ago to scout out the inside and to find the twins, while Butcher was doing a walk of the perimeter, leaving you and Ben to wait for the all clear. A welcome break, because every few minutes Hughie would play with a Geiger counter and the high pitched creak-like squeak was giving you a headache. Not to mention annoying you. You'd only been able to have a few sips of your coffee this morning after Butcher and Hughie burst into you apartment, but at least your anxiety was picking up the slack.

Because of course it was.

The house in front of you looked innocent enough on the outside, big windows light wood, but now that you were here, you really didn’t want to go inside. Despite wanting to face the twins, you didn’t want to go inside and be reminded of the one reason why you stayed away from Herogasm.

At least today we aren’t attending it as much as crashing it.

“Why do you think I hated going to Herogasm?” You murmur, frown deepening at you continue to stare at the house. The memories of the past had an ugly way of crashing down on you and despite not wanting to make Ben feel guilty, keeping them to yourself made you feel worse. Plus you figured he knew when you were lying, because Ben was basically a human lie detector when it came to you.

Ben sighs, his warm breath washing over the side of your face as his arm tightens around your waist to secure you to him. “Sweetheart please look at me.” His voice is comforting, filled with emotion, but you still don't look at him.

“What?” You whisper, mind still a million miles away.

His fingertips come under your chin to turn your face to his. Ben’s green eyes lock with yours, soft and apologetic, familiar in the best way and weird given the fact that he was wearing his uniform. You’d never seen him look so sorry when he was dressed up as Soldier Boy.

“I would have killed any man who tried to touch you, especially after the night we shared together. When Vogelbaum danced with you I wanted to rip his arms off.” His eyes darken.

You remembered the way he watched Vogelbaum and you dance together at the premiere with the cameras flashing in your eyes, but then the image of Countess plastered to his hip arises. The way she ran her hands up his chest, the way he turned his gaze away from you to stare at her.

“Yes, but see I never killed any woman that touched you-“

Double standard much?

“Well-“

“Countess doesn’t count.” You snap.

Ben’s thumb strokes along your jaw, before his expression softens again. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologized-“ You sigh, suddenly guilty. You hadn't meant to snap at him like that, you were on edge because of Rosemary, not because of what Ben did in the past. You were already starting to forgive him for what he did.

“Not for this.” He takes in a deep breath before he pulls you closer to him. “I’m sorry that I made you think I didn’t want you. Because I do. I don't want anyone else, haven't ever wanted anyone else like I want you. I was so stupid. I fucked those other women because I couldn’t handle how I felt about you and I didn’t think that you would ever want me even a fraction of how much I want you-“

“More.” You whisper before you can stop yourself, laying your hand against the front of his suit.

“That is impossible.” Ben smiles faintly.

You toy with the material, plucking it between your fingers. “It’s okay. I understand why you did it. But it was hard to watch you with them.” You try to fight the image of him and Countess again, that is quickly followed by the memories of the many women over the years you’d see Ben with in public and of course the memory of the first and only Herogasm you ever went to, the one you left early because you couldn’t bear to see Ben with anyone else. The same one that you swore you saw Ben watching you just as closely when Noir tried to reach out for you and you walked away.

It’s different now. You think to yourself. Ben said that he’s wanted me this whole time and I believe him. I don’t think he would lie about something like that, not to mention he’s been more open about what he’s feeling.

“I know.” Ben continues to stroke along your jaw. “But I promise it won’t happen ever again.”

“I believe you.” You lock your arms around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you, loving the way his body felt wrapped around you, like he was molded just for you.

“Good.” He leans his forehead against yours for a moment. "Can I kiss you yet?" Ben's words are quiet, barely above a whisper, so low that you know if you didn't have super hearing you'd have missed them.

"You've never been a patient man. In all the years I've known you." You breathe with a smile.

"Maybe I've just never met someone worth waiting for." Ben's nose nudges into the space between you faces, waiting for you to tell him it's okay and you want to. "But you are Sweetheart."

"You've waited forty years."

"You waited longer."

His words make a ball of emotion lodge in the back of your throat, because it meant Ben listened. He heard everything you said to him and he wasn't going to forget, he was going to make this up to you.

It was hard to say no to him, not when he was smiling at you and gazing at you the way you'd always wished him to.

"We both know I'm a bit more patient than you."

"Maybe."

"You know, maybe we should be focusing on something else right now." You smirk, still keeping your lips just as hairsbreadth away from his.

“It's hard to focus on anything else, not when you’re wearing something like that.” Ben purrs, thumbs brushing against you hips in a way that makes your chest tight.

Your smirk deepens “Oh this old thing?”

At the last minute you had chosen to wear the outfit you had picked when you thought you were going to be going to Russia to get Ben, rather than your old supe suit. You didn’t want to be connected with the person you were then, and despite Ben’s want to hold on to Soldier Boy, you were more than happy to let Indigo go.

The outfit was working better than you thought. The tight black tactical pants, combat boots, black leather jacket, and long sleeved leather corseted blouse that was sinched at your waist all perfectly accentuated the curves that your mother tried to hide. When you had walked out of your closet wearing it, Ben’s entire body had gone rigid.

“What?” You’d asked him with an innocent smile standing just a few steps outside your closet, while watching the tension in his shoulders.

“Damn it sweetheart you’re making this hard.” He had responded, clenching his hands into fists at his sides to hold himself back from crossing your bedroom to touch you. It made you smile wider to understand that he was trying to respect the boundaries you made between the two of you.

“What is it that I’m making hard Benjamin?”

“Fuck. Don’t tease me. Nobody likes a tease.”

You’d smirked at him. “Sorry babe you walked right into that one.”

“It’s not fair-“ Ben had growled.

“What’s not fair?”

“You wearing that, biting your fucking lip like that-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He’d stalked towards you, eyes dark, causing you to back up until your back hit your pale bedroom wall. His hand had landed next to your head, the other wound around your hip so you could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes.

“You know, two can play at that game Sweetheart.” Ben had murmured, easing his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips.

“And what game is that?” You’d said it trying to keep your composure, but the dark look in his eyes and the smell of his shampoo was everywhere. Your heart beat had given you away, thudding violently in your chest as if it wanted to break free. It was hard to ignore how much you still wanted him after all these years.

"You know exactly what game." Ben had held your gaze, raising an eyebrow as a confident smirk pulled at his lips. He could hear your heartbeat too, probably could smell how much you wanted him. “But you’re so fucking beautiful I'll let it slide.”

“Huh?” It had been the last thing you thought he was going to say. If anything you’d thought he was going to tease you.

The hand that had been previously on the wall near your head dropped onto your face to gently trace the arch of your brow and the dip of your bottom lip.

“You always have been. I thought I remembered wrong but-" His expression shifted from the seductive smirk into something softer. "Fuck I missed you." Ben had leaned his forehead against yours. "So tease me all you want. I'll wait, because you're worth every second."

Remembering what he said earlier still filled you with an incredible amount of love and made you want to kiss him all the more now. Knowing that he was willing to wait for you to be okay with whatever came next made you fall harder for him. But now you knew that you needed to focus on what you were about to do. And standing here in front of the house, listening to what was going on inside made you sober up, just a little bit…. But not completely.

"Then again I thought those overalls were pretty sexy too." Ben states, staring down at you with a wide smile as the mid-afternoon sun turned his hair into a light brown and found the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looked every bit as handsome as you were accustomed to, so much in fact that it made your heart ache.

"Sure." You roll your eyes. "I think you're the first person in history to say that." Your fingers lightly curl into the strands at the back of his head.

"Maybe. Or maybe you're just the sexiest woman in history."

"Shut up."

Ben's gaze darkens. "Make me, Sweetheart."

Every viable thought except the thought of crashing your lips to his vanishes.

I wonder if they're as soft as I remember. If he still makes that sound when I-

"You two ready?" Butcher interrupts appearing just over Ben's shoulder, but smirking when he sees how close the two of you are. "Or do you love birds need a little alone time?"

You roll your eyes and let go of Ben's hair, as he loosens his grip on your hips. Stepping back away from him was like having a bucket of cold water drop over you, you missed him and yet he was standing a full sixteen inches away from you.

This is really not good.

"You have the worst fucking timing." Ben moves to pick up his shield, but the playful smirk he'd had a few seconds ago has been replaced with a frown.

You wondered if he was as disappointed as you were.

The wind shifts and you can smell the Temp V in Butcher's veins, hear the steady beat of his heart as it pumps blood through his body, strengthening him, making him feel indestructible. When Butcher and Hughie had injected it at the back of Butcher's car, you couldn't help but be reminded of the day you took V. You had been afraid and when they injected it, you remember the pain, the unspeakable pain that made you scream so loud that Ben heard you from the room he was being kept in, and he broke through the wall to get to you. It was how the scientists learned that Ben had super strength, because he had smashed through solid rock to make sure you were okay.

Butcher shrugs and begins to walk through the trees towards the side door of the house, leaving you and Ben alone.

"You didn't answer my question." He hefts his shield up with a smirk.

He didn't have to explain, you knew he was asking about the kiss. "I'll take a raincheck."

"Hmm." Ben takes a few steps towards the house, before he stops to look back at you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Huh?"

"In the car, even now. You're kinda quiet." He shrugs.

"I-" You were going to say that you were fine, but you knew that he would clock the lie. "We need to talk about something, but it can wait. This is important too."

Ben's frown deepens, but then he finally sighs. "Alright. Come on you’re lagging behind doll."

"Guess you changed your mind about wanting me here." You snort as you catch up to him.

Ben puts his hand on your wrist, turning you to look at him. "I always want you with me." His hand trails up your arm to finally rest under your chin. Ben smiles, leaning down towards you, but before you can arch up into him, he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I love you." He murmurs into the top of your head.

"I love you too."

And with that, you both follow Butcher into the house hosting the worst event in all of history.

I should have brought ear plugs. You cringe as you follow behind Ben and Butcher, weaving through the lower levels of the house. Maybe someone will let me borrow their blindfold. Hopefully there are nose plugs somewhere… well there have been other kinds of plugs but those are a bit big for my nose.

You walk down the staircase after Ben and Butcher who pulled ahead a few moments ago and as you do the sharp sour smell of a chemical wafts in your face, different than the other odors in the house.

What is that?

You round the corner and see Ben up ahead, shrouded in smoke, staring down an attractive muscular black man who for some reason has decided to raise his fists to challenge Ben. Your eyes trace the man's face, recognition pulling at your heart. You knew who he was. The first time you'd seen him he'd only been a boy, made eye contact with you at a funeral you couldn't help but go to, after Ben made a mistake. You'd offered the boy an encouraging smile and left the boy's family an envelope of cash in their mailbox because you couldn't think of anything else to do for them. You knew it couldn't replace who they lost, but you didn't know what else to do. Ben had been upset with himself after, he always was when he lost control. He showed up on your doorstep like he always did, drunk, high, smelling like stale perfume, and fell asleep in your bed after you reassured him the same way you always did.

Now that little boy was grown up and standing in front of you. You see recognition flash in his eyes as he sees you. Of course it does. You didn't look any different and you hadn't worn your supe suit when you went to the funeral.

"Not him." Butcher says to Ben, but Ben doesn't look away from the man.

"Ben." You whisper, reaching out to touch his arm gently.

Ben's eyes flick to yours. The look in Ben's eyes is familiar, predatory, unwilling to back down from a fight. Soldier Boy. You'd seen it countless times before, talked him out of killing people in the past. You hated how quickly you had to slip into your old job, the one that made you feel like a babysitter, but you shake it off.

"He doesn't know what he's doing. Come on. The Twins are upstairs, I can hear them arguing." It was true, you could, but you didn't want this to turn ugly so quickly. Not when the real reason why you were here were currently arguing about toilet cameras.

His jaw tightens, eyes sliding to the man standing at the other end of the room, before he nods once and motions for you to go ahead of him.

As you continue to move through the house, you fight the shudder that threatens to travel down your spine when you think of how Ben looked moments ago. It was the first time you had seen Soldier Boy since Ben showed up again, and it was the same way you remembered it. You just hoped deep down that Ben really did want to change and that he was adopting the façade of Soldier Boy to get through what came next. You knew that you were going to have to adopt one as well.

"Here." You stop just before the two of you round the corner where the Twins were in the other room. "Let me go first. They might not try to run if I go in before you."

Ben frowns. "I don't want you to-"

"I know, but it'll be better this way."

"Fine."

You walk around the wall and towards the circular room where the Twins are fighting, ignoring the couples on the outskirts that are grinding against one another.

Like Countess, the Twins didn't look good, both were considerably older, rounder, grayer, and more wrinkly than the last time you'd seen them, but they were still the same. Still arguing and still just as annoying as they had been forty years ago.

"I never want to see you again!" Tommy spits at his sister, adjusting the golden robe slung over his shoulders that flaps around him like a cape.

"Oh sure!" Tessa sniffs while puffing on a joint. "Our Westfield mall appearance is next week and nobody is going to come see you without me!"

That must suck to have your powers depend on someone else.

"Wow, mall appearances? Aren't we all getting a bit old for that?" You flash a winning smile as you step down into the room, locking eyes with Tessa.

Both of the twins visibly pale, their hearts speeding up to work overtime, as the stench of adrenaline begins to waft through the air between you. It's almost comical how identical their reactions are to Countess' at seeing you for the first time in forty years. Then again you hoped that you looked better than they did.

Why didn't I try to find out more after Ben "died?" If our entire team had this reaction to seeing me then I would have known the truth and Ben wouldn't have been in a fucking Russian Lab all these years!

Their plan to ensure you not being in Nicaragua had paid off, because not only were you not there, you didn't want anything to do with any of them. And you wished that you had confronted them all those years ago. You knew that you'd live with that guilt for a long time, but now you allowed your anger at what they all did to Ben, overpower it.

"Y/n-" Tessa stutters.

It was weird to see her at a loss for words. You and all of Payback had listened to her nag Tommy since the moment they joined the team. Judging by what you had walked into, you figured that she hadn't changed at all.

"Hey long time no see!" Tommy fakes enthusiasm while licking his lips nervously, eyes darting to the open doors behind you. You could practically see the escape plan forming in his mind.

"You know, when I found out you guys were living in Vermont I was surprised. I would have thought that you moved down South. They’re probably more accepting of your relationship.” You make air quotes around the word relationship, before shifting your smile into an worried frown. “Oh sorry, are the two of you still pretending that you’re not fucking?”

Tessa’s gaze turns stone cold. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d check in.” You look around the room. “You guys have a nice house. Must have budgeted better than Countess did. Her tailer, now that was a shit hole. Must not have done as many mall appearances.”

Tommy’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Countess’s name. “Look y/n-“

“Please. We didn’t have anything against you. We didn’t come after you. Even after all these years we left you alone.” Fear seeps into Tessa’s voice with her plea, eyes wide with worry.

They had reason to be worried, you’d all but admitted to killing Countess.

“Oh sweetie.” You with false sweetness in your tone. “It’s cute that you think you can beg for mercy. That you're deserving of it.” The room begins to shake with the force of your anger as your eyes shift to bright purple. Cracks like thin spiderwebs stretch through the wide windows behind them and through the thick drywall as you lose control, the composure you always held on to drowning in the flood of emotion you feel when you look at the two of them. “Ben told me exactly what happened that day-“

“He lied to you!” Tommy exclaims. “He went crazy! You know how he gets, how he loses control!”

“He lost control and we had to protect ourselves y/n-“ Tessa adds, another lie.

Ben steps into the room beside you, his eyes are focused on the Twins, and if you thought they looked afraid when you showed up, they look near dead when Ben appears.

"You were saying?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Ben! Hey Buddy!." Tommy forces another smile but pales when he realizes Ben just heard him and Tessa try to lie to you. "How are you? Long time. We were just talking to y/n about-“

Ben's eyes narrow, stopping whatever Tommy was going to say about you.

"Nicaragua wasn't our fault!" Tommy says to recover. "Neither was the premiere." His eyes dart to yours, cowering under the purple light that pulses from your irises.

Wow. Just. Wow.

"We swear." Tessa adds.

"Why should we believe you?" You spit.

"Please-"

"Then whose fault was it?" Ben's frown deepens, hand tightening on the shield.

None of the other couples have stopped what they are doing, too enthralled in one another to notice what was going to unfold between the four of you.

"It was Noir!" Tommy shouts desperately, his eyes flitting from Ben to you as if trying to see which one of you will believe him. "He gave Ben to the Russians."

It's almost pathetic watching his mad scramble to protect himself. Apart of you hates that you don't feel guilty for any of this, at least with Countess at the beginning you felt some guilt for hurting her, but with them there was nothing. Not even the prick of remorse, there was only anger.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "We all know that Noir didn't even take a shit without Vought's say so."

"Not to mention his head was so far up Stan's ass it's a wonder that he could breathe." You narrow your eyes at the two of them waiting for them to make a move. They might be cowards, but if you knew the Twins well enough, you knew that they weren't above throwing a bolt of lighting in your direction. And you knew for a fact that electrocution wasn't fun.

"It's the truth!" Tessa shouts above the moans and wet squelch of the people around you. “Please y/n we have children.”

“You're really the worst liar hon. Always have been." You snap, listening to her heartbeat jolt in her chest as she attempts to save herself.

"Please talk Ben out of this, just like you did for Noir-“ Tommy's plea falls on deaf ears, but you knew what he was talking about. The day that you saved Noir's life because he started a fight with Ben over a stupid role in a movie. But this was different, no part of you wanted to save them from this, to save them from what they deserved.

“Noir will get what’s coming to him.” You don't recognize your own voice. "You brought this on yourselves."

But then something shifts in the air, call it a feeling, or an energy current, but something feels wrong.

The music coming from the radio has changed to a Russian pop song, why it's playing you have no idea, all you know is that it does something to Ben.

The sound of his shield hitting the ground rings in your ears and you turn to look at him. His entire body is tensed beneath his suit, sweat dotting along his hairline, red beginning to creep into his cheeks. His eyes are squeezed shut and he shakes his head as if he's trying to clear it.

"Ben? Are you okay?" Your hold on the room vanishes, eyes fading back to their normal color as your worry turns to Ben.

His fists are clenched tightly together as he brings them up to the sides of his head, chest beginning to glow with his new power, the one you'd never seen before, the one that Ben said practically vaporized whatever was in it's path.

Shit.

"Ben. Stay with me, listen to my voice." You touch the sides of his face, begging him to listen to your plea. As much as you wanted the Twins to pay, Ben wasn't just losing control of his powers, this was different. It was almost like he was being dragged somewhere else, somewhere you couldn't follow.

"Everything's okay. I'm here, I'm right here." You soothe, but he continues to glow brighter and brighter and you're directly in the line of fire.

Shit.

Ben's eyes flash open, no longer bright green but an orange-gold that makes fear snag in your ribs like a fishing hook. His hand makes contact with your chest shoving you to the side, out of the way of the beam, but unfortunately through the solid rock wall.

You don't really know what happens next. The world goes black for a few minutes, not like when you die, but just black as everything burns around you when Ben explodes. You're not sure how long you're under, could be minutes, could be hours, all you know is that when you wake up everything hurts.

It's how you know that you didn't officially die. Whenever you woke up after death, it was different, you felt powerful, reborn, but right now you felt like a train ran over you. A headache throbs at your temples as you begin to come to, blinking your eyes against the darkness that doesn't go away. Your ears are ringing, filled with the screams of those who survived and the smell of burned flesh and blood surrounds you like a cloud.

A mountain of rubble and roofing covers you, leaving you in the darkness to get your bearings, but nothing feels broken.

At least the brick fireplace broke my fall. You think to yourself with a groan as you begin to push off the planks of wood and pieces of the roof that cover your body, so you can sit up. As soon as you do, your head spins and you fight the unpleasant urge to throw up.

Great. Might have a concussion.

You might be as strong as Ben, but your ability to die meant that you were just a little bit less equipped to handle a hit like that.

Ben. Worry and fear war in your heart as you look around the broken room that lays in tatters around you.

The house isn’t recognizable anymore. Singed carpet floats in tufts with ash around your face like a swarm of flies while fires burn in clumps all over the ruined room. Chunks of drywall and planks of blackened wood litter the floor and the back half of the house is gone, burned to a crisp in the blast from Ben.

What the fuck did they put in his chest? Ben had tried to describe it to you, tried to explain it, but standing here in the rubble you understood just how bad it was. The ruins in Mid-town you had seen the coverage of on the news, but it was a completely different thing to experience it in person.

People are going to think that he did this on purpose. That he's a bad person, that he's some kind of terrorist. The thought is immediately followed by the fear that Vought and the government would come to take him away. Your jaw tightens. I'd like to see them try.

The bodies of Tommy and Tessa are burned beyond recognition, still holding hands, but now are just blacked lumps of flesh and bone that lay where they tried to make their final stand. But you feel no remorse.

It’s what we came here to do, to make them pay. You bite the inside of your cheek listening to the screams of those who survived. I just didn't think that so many others would get hurt.

You continue to look around the room, worry rising in your chest as you think of Ben and remember the look on his face. He had been scared of what was about to happen even if he didn’t want to admit it. He lost control. In the past when he lost control the worst thing he could do was rip someone in half or smash their face into a pulp, but now if Ben ever lost control he'd level a building.

I see a lot of yoga in his future. Or maybe anger management classes.

Although the thought makes you smile, as soon as you see Ben everything else fades from your mind. Ben is on his knees in the center of the room, head slumped forward on his chest, hands laying limply by his sides, as he takes in shaky breaths. You could hear the frantic pound of his heart, beating hard against his rib cage as if begging to be released. Seeing him like that almost sends you into overdrive. You’d never seen him look so defeated, so small, so tired, so… lost.

“Ben?” You fall to your knees next to him, reaching out to touch his face, to bring his attention to you.

His body tenses as you do so, eyes narrowing when he meets yours like he doesn’t know you. His eyes miles away.

But where?

“Hey, it’s me.” You say gently, cupping his face with your hands to rub your thumbs across his cheeks while fear grips your heart as you try to bring him back to you. “It’s me, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Ben inhales sharply as if suddenly remembering, the look in his eyes clearing for a moment, rising through the fog. "Y/n?" He whispers.

"Yeah. I'm here." You repeat, smiling at him even though the urge to cry builds in the back of your throat. It broke your heart to see him like this. You push his hair back from his face, brushing the ash from the mahogany strands.

“Are you okay? Did I-“ Worry etches itself across his handsome face.

“I’m fine. Shhh.” You soothe, pulling him against you so your can rub his back softly and lock him in your embrace. But the truth was you were afraid. You didn’t understand what happened and couldn’t explain the look in his eyes when he went under, when he started to lose himself in his newfound powers. Ben crumbles into you, leaning his head against your shoulder as if needing it to strengthen him.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You weren’t sure the effects the blast had on him, just that he seemed unsure as to how the hell he did it.

Where did he go in those moments?

“The twins?” Ben mumbles.

“They’re dead.” You could hear the approaching ambulances and police cars, hear the anxious chatter of the survivors outside.

We’ve got to get out of here.

“Come on. Let’s go.” You say softly rising to your feet and helping him up. Ben stumbles a step, shaking his head like he can’t catch his bearings and the worry comes roaring back. You catch him and tilt his body so he can lean on you. “Ben are you okay?” Your fingers dance against the sides of his face trying to bring his focus back to you, because you were afraid he might lose himself to whatever the hell happened before.

“I will be in a minute.” Ben takes in a shaky breath, leaning on your shoulder. "I don't know what happened."

"It's okay." His shield rises telekinetically from the rubble and into your outstretched hand that glows a brilliant purple in the dusty light. Smoke billows up from the room around you obscuring the sunlight that filters through the ruined front of the house, but you can still see the front drive already becoming swarmed with people and news crews.

Because that's exactly what Rosemary needs to see, me and Ben on the 5'oclock news. Fuck.

"Come on." You lead him back the way you can, toting his shield in your free hand, down the stairs.

When you spot Butcher, Ben straightens finally catching his bearings and takes the shield from you. Butcher looks from Ben to you, eyebrows raised.

"Sorted?"

"Yeah." Ben frowns.

You could tell that he was still a little shaky, but you knew he wasn't going to admit that to anyone, especially not to Butcher. Your gaze falls on the man from before laying on the ground, the man that Butcher had told Ben to leave.

Why did he want Ben to spare his life if Butcher was only going to beat him down?

But just as you take a step towards the man to check him for injuries, a long shadow falls on the floor at your feet.

Your eyes jolt upwards and focus on Homelander. The smell of hairspray, hair dye, and cheap cologne waft through the air at Homelander's appearance. He's shorter than you expected him to be, not overtly muscular, but he didn't need to be. Supes with superstrength didn't need to look like body builders, and you suspected that the only reason why Homelander even had any kind of muscle was for his image as America's Hero. Then again, you never complained about Ben's muscular physique.

I don’t think anybody should complain about that and- Nope. Nope. Not thinking about that right now.

But as you stare at him there's something wrong, something that you can't place, something that tugs at the back of your mind when you look at him, almost as if you've forgotten something important.

Seeing him in person is surreal. You'd only ever seen him on the news or on billboards or on those stupid energy drinks that were sold at the bodega on the corner where you get coffee filters sometimes, but the look in his eyes is the same. It's cold, unfeeling, and reminds you of those ridiculous shark documentaries that Rosemary is obsessed with. The only time she could watch shark week was after Lou went to bed. She said that watching it made her feel better about her job and you didn't complain.

Homelander looks around the room forcing a smile, a predatory glare in his eyes.

"William Butcher and Soldier Boy. Of course you are behind this. It really is all about me." Homelander's smile widens.

Narcissistic much? This guy's like a walking red flag.

He takes a step closer to the three of you, and Ben steps in front of you to shield you from Homelander's view. Homelander clocks the movement, but then tsks his finger at Butcher.

"William we made a deal to fight to the death, you and me." Homelander's eyes begin to glow. "You cheated, deals off."

The red flash of the laser-vision illuminates Ben's face in sharp contrast as the beam hits Butcher full in the chest propelling him back into the wall. His body falls to the ground and lies still.

Well. That's not good.

Honestly you didn't like Butcher all that much, but you couldn't help but feel a little bit bad.

You glance up from Butcher's body to gaze at Homelander again. Fighting him hadn't been on the agenda today, but it was starting to look that way. You knew what his powers were, knew that Vought probably told him his entire life that he was a god and that no one could compare to him. And you knew that the man standing next to you hadn't changed enough to walk away from the fight, no matter how bad his odds were.

And deep down you knew that you weren't going to let Ben take that beating, which of course meant that you were going to fight Homelander. Not that you were afraid of him. One look at him might have sent everyone else heading for the hills, but he didn't intimidate you.

"I watched all your movies, hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me." The look on Homelander's face is one of respect almost wonder.

And you can imagine a smaller version of Homelander being fed all the same propaganda that Ben and you were fed all those years ago, imagine Homelander growing up hearing that he was stronger, greater, faster than Soldier Boy, and imagine Vogelbaum working hard to make sure to mold Homelander into the hero that America wanted. Not to mention all the shit he probably heard when he was with Stormfront. You were very happy that you didn't have to see her again, though now you had a fun story to tell Ben about one of his exes.

“Buddy you’re wearing a cape, do you think you look strong?” Ben frowns at Homelander.

“It is pretty stupid.” You agree examining Homelander’s supe suit. “Honestly I thought you had it bad with that dorky looking helmet-“ You glance at Ben out of the corner of your eye.

“Really? You’re gonna do this now?” Ben glowers turning his attention to you.

“I’m just being honest it was pretty bad and I’m glad you decided not to wear it today. But his cape is definitely worse.”

“Do you want me to bring up that ridiculous hood you had?”

“You can, but I won’t believe you, because that hood was fabulous and I looked fantastic in it.”

Homelander clears his throat to catch your attention. “Um hello?”

“Hi.” You force a smile. “Oh sorry did we interrupt your little monologue?”

Homelander's gaze turns icy as you continue. “Because we can take this from the top. What was the line again? Something about power or watching his films? I was only half listening. Did you want me to record it for you so you can post it on your socials?”

“What the f-“ Homelander begins to say, but you interrupt him.

“I mean. That is why you practiced it in the mirror for so long right? And why you did your hair and makeup?" You scrunch up your nose. "I'd skip that last mist of hairspray if I were you. You want it to look smooth, not look like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.”

You could tell that Ben was trying to maintain his composure, but his mouth was twitching in a smile. “Oh wait does your suit have a body cam? I guess that makes things easier, because it probably doesn't have pockets. Not to mention if you dropped your phone while you were flying around-"

"Who the fuck are you?" Homelander spits interrupting you.

"No one important."

“Is he really what passes for a hero these days?” Ben cocks an eyebrow. “He’s just a cheap fucking knock off of me.”

“No.” Homelander snarls, eyes beginning to glow bright red. “I’m the upgrade.”

The laser cuts through the air in slow motion, but you’re already moving.

"Ben!" His name rips from your throat as you lunge forward and shove him as hard as you can out of the way of the beam. You feel the laser tear through your body, the force throwing you backward through one of the wood paneled walls and then the darkness swallows you whole.

If someone were to ask you what it was like to die, you wouldn’t know how to answer. To exist in those thirteen seconds sometimes feels like a dream, like you're floating, but it's always silent. And the silence scares you. How quickly it comes to drag you under and how it seems to replace everything you know or remember about the real world until you come back to life. You understood why Ben didn't like being alone, because you didn't either. It reminded you too much of those moments you were gone, wishing for it to stop. There was never a bright light, there was only the darkness and the silence that fell when your heart stopped beating.

When you take your first breath in thirteen seconds it's full of dust and ash, swirling into your mouth as you inhale sharply to jumpstart your lungs. But at the same time everything is different. The colors in the room are brighter, the sounds more acute, the smells just a fraction stronger, and you feel different. Power floods through your limbs, swirling through flesh and bone, pouring through your veins, electrifying through each nerve ending and setting you on fire, more than any other power ever has. You'd never felt power like this before. Even with Countess and the others that had killed you, no other power you'd ever gotten had felt this strong.

You stand up from the rubble you landed in, covered in a layer of dust and blood. The hole in your new outfit where the laser struck is just under your left breast, the mark left behind already a pink scar. And you knew that Ben would probably kill you for it later, for taking the laser for him, but you didn't care.

Homelander is floating in the center of the room, holding Ben by the throat, smiling cruelly at him.

"Hey asshole." You snarl, spitting out a glob of blood onto the ruined carpet. "We're not done."

Homelander turns his head towards you amused, while Ben grabs at the front of his suit, trying to get his attention, but Homelander is focused on you.

"So that's it? That's your big trick? Laser vision? Forgive me for not cowering in fear." Your hands clench into fists at your sides.

He eyes you for a moment. "You're Indigo aren't you?"

"I used to be. Now I'm just disappointed. I expected more from Vought's big hero, but now I see that you're just another asshole who thinks he's a god." Your eyes drift to Ben for a moment, worry clawing at your heart when you meet his gaze. "So drop him. Before I drop you."

"You’re very confident for someone who was dead a few seconds ago. I don't really see how that ability is going to help you-"

"Before I didn’t want to kill you."

"And you think you can?" He laughs.

"No." You smirk. "I know I can."

"Who do you think you’re talking to?"

"I’m not talking to much." Your eyes narrow. "But I'll be nice, and I'll give you a chance to leave. To tuck your tail between your fucking legs and fly away. We didn't come here for you and you and I don't have to do this."

"And if I don't leave?"

"Then I'll kill you."

"I'd like to see you try." Homelander throws Ben as hard as he can through the brick fireplace, causing rock and mortar to rain down on top of him, but Homelander's eyes don't leave yours. “Well why don’t you give me your best sho-“

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence, your body ploughs into his tackling him through the solid outer wall and onto the back lawn.

Truthfully you hadn’t meant to go through the wall, you’d only meant to pin him to it, but flying was proving just a little more difficult than you expected. Your hand closes on Homelander’s wrist bringing him down against the ground so hard that the earth quakes, before you throw him as far away from you as you can.

His body spins awkwardly in the air, before he ploughs into one of the thick oak trees head on, at the edge of the backyard. The loud snap of the tree compensating for Homelander’s body fills the air.

He stumbles to his feet, eyes narrowed in pure hatred, lip curled back in a snarl, and his blonde hair flopping forward into his face.

“You chose wrong.” You spit, rolling your shoulders, preparing for what came next.

Homelander lets out a roar and flies towards you, arms outstretched for you, but you’re ready for him.

You catch his fist before it lands against your face and tighten your other hand around his throat. Your bodies are floating two feet off the ground, but it doesn’t faze you.

When Homelander’s gaze meets yours you see just a flicker of fear, a spark, quickly masked by his shock. He struggles to pull away to push you away with his free hand, but all you do is tighten your grip.

"You've never felt real pain before have you?" You force your face into a sympathetic frown, before your eyes harden. "Allow me to enlighten you." You throw him to the ground again, watching his body spin and screech against the grass and dirt.

Given the screams and smell of blood in the air, any witnesses from the massacre inside were at the front of the house waiting for the police, leaving you and Homelander on the backside of the house alone.

Worry for Ben rose in your chest like the peak of a wave, you hadn't seen him since Homelander threw him through the fireplace, but you funnel that worry into all encompassing rage.

"They told you that you were a god right? That you were the most powerful supe that ever lived. They were wrong. There's only one supe more powerful than you, and you just fucking pissed her off." You shout beginning to float towards him.

Homelander growls rising to his feet, eyes glowing bright red as he fires a laser at you, but you’re ready.

Your own beam catches his mid air between you, the high pitched sizzle and smell of ozone floats across your face, but you don't back down. If anything, it just makes you more angry.

And then something slams into you from the side, breaking the connection between your beam and Homelander's.

"What-" You shout, looking up at the body above yours, preparing to blast them off, but you realize it's Ben. "Ben what-"

"Stay here." He growls, eyes black. Ben looks pissed, whether it’s because you pushed Ben out of the way before or if it’s because he’s annoyed that Homelander punched him you’re not sure.

"What?" You look beyond him, to see Hughie and Butcher tackle Homelander to the ground.

They're going to try to turn him human.

"I can hold him down-" You say. “Let me help.”

"No." Ben snarls as he stalks towards Homelander, his chest beginning to glow.

“Ben-“

“Stay the fuck there.” Ben shouts still looking at Homelander.

Your eyes flit to the leader of the Seven. Watching him struggle against Hughie and Butcher, who yell at one another, but you don’t hear them. You wait for the remorse to crash over you, the guilt, but it never comes.

I gave him a choice. He could have run. He didn’t. He chose this.

And just when you think it’s all over, Homelander breaks away from them, surging up into the air to freedom. You feel your feet leave the ground to follow him, someone’s hand tightens on your ankle and drags you back down to earth.

“No.” Ben’s voice is more of a growl than anything else.

He’s angry, that much you can tell from the look on his face and from the way his eyes have hardened into two solid chunks of emerald as he locks eyes with you.

But why? Angry because Homelander got away or angry because I pushed him out of the way?

“Ben I can get him. Let me go.” You kick your ankle but Ben holds on.

“No.” Ben snarls. “You’re not about to go after that sick fuck by yourself.”

“Ben-“

“No. If I have to chain you to the ground I will.” Ben pulls you down further and releases your ankle to fasten his hand around you waist to hold you tighter against the ground. “You’re not going after him.”

“Fine.” You snap pulling yourself from his grasp, your own temper flaring.

You hated when Ben did that, when he acted like you weren’t just as capable as him of doing this. It reminded you of your childhood, when you were treated like you were made of glass, a pretty doll that was made to be looked at but never touched.

And you knew it came from Ben’s want to protect you, knew that it came from his fear of losing you, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

You didn’t pout when Ben went out to face someone, didn’t try to act like he couldn’t do it.

“I know that maybe I’m a little behind but… WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?” Hughie shouts. “You have laser vision and you can fly and you can move things with your mind!?” He looks frantically from you to Ben.

You don’t answer, your eyes are still on Ben who looks ready to throw Butcher’s car into space. You could practically see the waves of anger rolling off of him like a comic strip.

“You didn’t before, did you?” Butcher’s eyes trace your body as things begin to click into place. “You didn’t before he killed you.”

“Hold on.” Hughie holds up his hand. “Are you telling me that you die and you come back to life WITH THE POWERS OF THE SUPE THAT KILLED YOU?”

“It wasn’t in the files.” Butcher’s eyes still haven’t left you. “Vought didn’t know did they?”

You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, don’t like the glimmer in his eyes as if you’d just solved all his problems. It was the exact look that was in the eyes of the scientists the day you took the serum for the first time. To them that’s all Ben and you were, lab rats, people who were stupid enough to listen to the wild ideas of glory and a better world they spouted.

“We should go.” You murmur, listening to the sounds of the ambulances and the police coming up the driveway. “It’s about to be a circus here and I'd rather not make my big social media debut covered in rubble and blood."

Ben’s mouth is clamped together, green eyes blazing at your mention of blood. You knew that he was focused on the bloody hole left behind in the corset where Homelander's laser had ripped through your body.

Another scar, another fun story to tell my daughter when I see her… great.

*****************************************

The car ride to Legend’s is dead silent. Ben doesn’t look at you, doesn’t try to hold your hand, and doesn’t try to touch you in any way. Instead his hands are curled into fists, sitting on the tops of his thighs while his anger heats the inside of the car like a furnace. You knew it was only a matter until he exploded, but now you had bigger things on your mind.

You had just exposed yourself to Homelander, showed your face to him, not to mention you admitted to being Indigo. It would be easy for him to find your real name in the Vought archives find your file and the same name that linked you to Rosemary. She’d gone back to her maiden name when her husband died, which meant the two of you had the same last name and it wouldn’t be difficult for Homelander to find her.

Which meant you needed to get to her first.

You had tried to text her, tried to tell her to have a bag ready and that you were going to pick her up, but she was refusing to do so and you didn’t exactly want to text “Homelander is a fucking psychopath and he’s going to come after you” to her phone. Plus you couldn’t exactly call her, not in this cramped car.

Legend is waiting on the front porch of his country home when Butcher pulls his car into the end of the long driveway, somewhere that you’d been to many times in the past. He's smoking a joint and scrolling through his phone, wearing the same outfit you had seen him in a few days ago.

"Kitten!" He smiles wide at you when he sees you and pulls you into a hug. “I was worried when I heard about that mess with Countess. You never called.” Legend frowns at you, blowing out a lungful of smoke. "Guess you guys had a talk."

"Something like that." You frown. "It got complicated really fast."

“I told you so.” His eyes shift to where Ben is glowering a foot behind you. "I see he found you. I didn't tell him-"

"I know you didn't. Thank you for keeping your promise." You smile tightly, squeezing Legend's hand. He really was a good friend. One of the oldest ones you had besides Ben.

"Figured if I did, you'd keep him from ripping my head off."

“Haven’t decided if I’m not going to yet.” Ben snarls and Legend's eyes widen in fear.

But you knew that he was just redirecting his anger. Ben was angry because you put yourself in harms way to protect him and the sooner you had it out, the sooner you could go get Rosemary and Lou.

"Ben we both know that you're not mad at Legend, you're mad at me. So you might as well spit it out, because we've got bigger problems than your hissy fit-" You begin to say. You were sick of him pouting, refusing to look at you, refusing to touch you.

"What the FUCK were you thinking?!" Ben roars towering over you, eyes flashing. "Getting between me and him like that!"

Legend backs away, afraid that he's going to get caught in the cross-fire.

"Calm down." You sigh, gritting your teeth together. You were trying your best not to lose it either, because the last thing this situation needed was you losing control.

"DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN." Ben's hands are clenched tightly into fists, his suit beginning to glow bright.

"You're going to have to calm down or you're going to blast me to kingdom come!" You snap back.

Ben grits his teeth together and closes his eyes tightly while his chest begins to fade back to normal and when it does, he opens his eyes to glare at you. "Why did you do that? I had him handled-"

"You didn't."

"Yes I did. You didn't give me a chance to-"

"No what I did was I didn't give that psychopath a chance to punch a hole through your chest with his fucking laser vision." You poke him in the chest. "Of the two of us, I have a greater chance of surviving that!”

By then Butcher and Hughie had moved to give the two of you a wide berth, standing where Legend was watching the two of you looking bored. They were probably hoping that you didn’t cut one of them in half with your new powers.

"Are they always like this?" You hear Butcher ask Legend from where they stand a safe distance away.

"Pretty much." Legend answers, blowing out a puff of the fowl smelling smoke.

"Do you ever get used to it?" Hughie mutters.

"Nope."

“Is there an off button?” Butcher sighs.

“Nope.” Legend puffs his joint.

"You don't know that!" Ben spits back at you. "I could have!"

"I wasn't willing to take that chance damnit!"

How can I make him understand this? How can he finally understand what it would be like for me to lose him all over again, just when I got him back?

"Do you really think that I'm willing to play Russian Roulette with your life?" Ben snarls, grabbing you by the shoulders so tightly you're sure they'll be bruises but all you can do is look into his quickly darkening eyes. "Do you have any idea what it did to me to see you die AGAIN? To see him TOUCH YOU? To know that he HURT you?"

"We've already had this conversation Ben-"

"And we're going to fucking have it again!" His grip tightens. "I told you to stay behind me!"

The last time he'd touched you like this was the night of the premiere, when he told you that he didn't care about you, that he could never love you. The memory of that night lodges itself in the back of your throat, but you keep it down.

"And I told you that I wasn't going to do that!"

"Damn it y/n you can't-"

You pull yourself away from him. "No Ben. You can't tell me what to do. You don't get to control me. People have tried to control me all my damn life and when I first came with you I thought I was giving that up. But no, I just moved on and Vought took over. When I decided to live my own life, to stop being a supe, I was free! Finally! After forty years of bullshit I was finally free!"

Ben’s jaw is so tightly locked together you think you hear the grinding of his teeth. “So what are you saying? Are you saying that when you’re with me you feel trapped? Like I’m holding you fucking hostage?!”

“No.” You exhale heavily. "I understand that you love me. I understand that you want to protect me. But you need to understand that I love you too. That just as you're willing to lay down your life for me, I am willing to lay down my life for you. And if you want this to work between us, you need to understand that you don't control me. You're not my dad or my owner, you're the man I love. And until you realize that I am just as capable of protecting you as you are protecting me-"

"I know that." Ben seethes.

"What?"

"Do you really think that I don't see how strong you are?” You watch something flash in his eyes that isn't anger, the vulnerable look is back for a fleeting moment and it rocks you to your core. "I don’t want to control you! I’m not trying to. Have you thought that maybe after all this time I just wanted you to need me like I need you?"

His confession makes your heart stop. Does he really think that I don’t need him? That after all these years there’s no one else that I’ve needed more in my entire life?

“Ben.” You sigh while stretching out your hand to lay against his arm, but he flinches away. “ I do need you. You have no idea how much I need you, no idea what it did to me when I lost you even after everything that happened. I just don’t want you to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“I don’t treat you like you’re-“ He begins to say.

“Yes. You do. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect me, but you have to understand that I want to protect you too.”

He huffs out a breath, shoulders tensed, arms crossed over his muscular chest. “I do understand that. I just hate it when you do that, that you push me out of the way. I hate when you get hurt.”

“And I hate when you get hurt." You bite the inside of your cheek. "You say that you were angry that Homelander hurt me, but did you stop to consider what it did to me to see him try to hurt you? Do you know what it did to me to see him touch you?”

Ben stands there for a minute glaring down at you, before his gaze begins to soften. “No.” He grumbles.

“Exactly.”

You both stand there for a minute eyeing one another, daring the other to break the silence.

This is ridiculous.

Finally Ben, sighs out a breath and jerks you forward against his chest. The hug would be bone crushing for anyone else, but not to you.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He mutters into the top of your head, while his body curves around yours.

“I love you too asshole.” You huff, hugging him back just as tight.

“See they always work it out.” Legend shrugs at Butcher. “Takes them a while to get there. They made my job so much harder in the 70’s. Though I will say it’s a relief that they’re finally admitting they love each other. Way too much sexual tension before, gave me anxiety.”

Ben pulls back to look at your face with another loud sigh. He still looks a little angry, but not angry enough to start shouting again. His thumb strokes against your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You nod once leaning into his touch. “Are you?” You brush back some of his dark hair out of his face, looking for bruises but you don’t see any.

“Yeah.” He nods.

“If the two of you are done, we have bigger things to worry about-“ Butcher begins to say.

“We are and we do.” You interrupt looking away from Ben to stare at Butcher. “I need to borrow your car.”

“Why?”

“I need to go back to the city.”

“What?” Ben sputters releasing you from his grasp.

“And I think it would be better if I went alone-“ You continue slowly.

Honestly you did think that it would be better if you went alone, but you didn’t want to. You wanted Ben to come with you, the problem was Rosemary.

“Like hell I’m letting you go alone with that son of a bitch flying around!” Ben shouts, temper flaring again.

“Which is why I have to go.” You try to say it diplomatically, try to have him understand without having to explain it. But there’s really no way around it, around any of this.

“No.”

“Ben please c-"

“Don’t tell me to calm down again! I’m not being crazy. You’re not going after him!” His eyes blaze a brilliant green, as he crosses his hands over his chest.

“Ben-“

“Why can’t you listen to me for once?”

“BEN!” You shout, grabbing his face and holding his cheeks between your palms to catch his attention.

“What?” Ben’s eyes lock with yours.

“I’m not going to the city to go after Homelander.”

He pauses confused. “Then why are you-“

And you just can’t take it anymore. You can’t hold it in any longer, can’t think of a way to tell him without just ripping the bandaid off. Your eyes meet his, apologetic, determined, and just a little bit fearful.

“I’m going back into the city to get our daughter.”

A/N: I know I know, it's been a while and honestly I didn't mean to get hit by writer's block this bad 😂😭

But it kinda works out, because what better way to celebrate Father's Day than to tell Soldier Boy that he's a dad?

As always thank you so much for reading! There are big things coming! And thank so much for the love and support! If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts

@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress

@my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna

@carpenterswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen

@cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm @lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21

@boywivlove @mrsjenniferwinchester @vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake

@thesilmarillionblog @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @libby99hb @peachhiz @tinydancer40

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marauder-misprint · 2 months ago

Note

Hii, congrats on 200 followers! I was wondering if you could do prompt 47, “I was already yours.” w/ Remus? (No pressure) Thanks! Ur amazing! <3<3

Thank you for the request! ❤︎ I rewrote this in like four different ways. Finally got something I'm happy with! Hope you like this little bit of fluff!

Magnetic

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

1.0k words

cw: fluff

Remus felt like a magnet. He attracted friends who were the opposite of him. He first noticed it with James and Sirius. Their boisterous personalities contrasting his more mellow one. Their ability to be so carefree while he struggled under the weight of how much he cared. And then there was you. Bold. That’s how he would describe you. Like bolding a typeface. You were very ‘in your face’ in a lot of ways. So naturally, he was drawn to you while you seemed to repulse James and Sirius. They didn’t hate you but they didn’t get why Remus liked you so much. You were a magnet in your own sense. The boys from other houses liked to hang you like flies to honey. There was always one who was flirting away with you. You liked the attention but you’d always walk away from them. In all the years Remus knew you, you’d never had a boyfriend. From what he witnessed, you turned down anyone who made a move on you.

And that was enough for Remus to hold back his feelings for you. If you didn’t give any other boy a second look, why would you give Remus one? The only thing he felt he might have over them was a deep friendship with you. But that’s all it was: friendship.

You sat down next to him on the couch in the common room. It was just him left as James and Sirius had gone to bed.

“You know, I’m tired of guys thinking a little flirting is enough to get into my pants.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and looked over at you. You were slumped into the cushions, slouching far enough down that your butt almost hung off the couch. Your grumpy expression shouldn’t have made him smile but it did. He thought it was cute on you.

“Another suitor turned away?” He asked teasingly.

“Please, Pickett is anything but a suitor. I do have standards.”

“Impossible ones,” he mumbled, looking away from you.

Part of him had hoped you hadn’t heard his little comment, but the way you sat up and turned your body toward him said otherwise.

“What do you mean ‘impossible ones’?”

Remus sunk a little bit into the couch. He was regretting saying anything but he couldn’t take it back now.

“I’ve known you since first year. You haven’t had a boyfriend and it isn’t like boys are lacking. I’ve never seen you dance with a boy for longer than one song. And… I doubt you’ve even kissed anyone.”

Remus tried to read the look on your face before it shifted to something more like indifference.

“I don’t see why I should waste my time on boys I know won’t make me happy,” you said defensively. “Why should I humor someone to a second dance if they made me want to gag the entirety of the first one?”

Remus shrugs. “Maybe a bad first impression?”

You laughed and squeezed Remus’s cheeks with your hand.

“You’re cute when you’re optimistic about the boys at this school.”

Trying not to focus on your hands on his face, Remus couldn’t help the heat rising to his face when you called him cute.

“They can’t all be bad!”

You paused for a moment, letting your hand fall from his face and back into your lap.

“No, you’re right… Shocker, right?” you laughed. “They aren’t all terrible. But a lot could be better. You can’t argue with me on that.”

Remus draped an arm over the back of the couch so he could turn his body more toward you.

“Okay, so humor me, okay?”

“Okay…”

He didn’t miss the hint of hesitancy in your voice.

“What if you gave one of the decent guys a chance?”

You laughed and it made Remus’ heart race. Then you leaned forward.

“The decent guys don’t like me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“They just don’t act interested in me at all. Like they don’t flirt with me. The decent guys don’t like me like that.”

“That can’t be right,” Remus said, his facial features scrunching in disbelief. “Who do you think is decent? Maybe I’ve heard something that you haven’t.”

“You can’t judge me if I tell you.”

“I’ll judge you if you say Sirius.”

You smiled at him. You wondered how someone so smart could be so dumb sometimes.

“You’re a decent guy, Remus.”

Time stood still for a moment. You were trying to read each other’s expressions. Remus couldn’t tell if you were being sincere; was there a possibility that you liked him? You tried to understand where his confusion was coming from. Had he not heard you?

“Remus?” you asked, your voice wavering in a way Remus wasn’t familiar with. “Say something.”

“I’m a decent guy?” he echoed your sentiment quietly.

You let out an amused scoff. “You’re more than a decent guy, Remus. You’re like the whole package… except…”

You looked away from Remus.

“Except?”

“Except you don’t like me like that.”

You felt Remus’ hand on your chin, bringing your face to look at his. He had moved closer to you.

“Except I do.”

“You do?” you breathe. “But you’ve never flirted with me?”

“I saw you turn away every bloke. What chance did I have?”

“Every chance, you idiot.”

Hoping that he wasn’t playing a joke on you, you leaned in and kissed him. You weren’t one to be cautious, but you were at this moment. You pulled back after a few seconds when your second-guessing thoughts got the better of you, but then Remus chased your lips with his own. His own head was spinning; he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, that you had kissed him. He couldn’t believe that you confessed to liking him when he had believed he would be taking his crush on you to his grave. When he pulled back this time, you rested your forehead against his.

“So you’ll be mine?” you ask in a whisper.

“I was already yours,” Remus said softly. “I just wasn’t brave enough to let you know.”

#marauders fic #marauders #marauder-misprint #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #request

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imababblekat · 5 months ago

Text

Simon sees you sitting curled up in a chair, eyes peering lost at the sketchbook and computer before. He knows that look. It’s a look you often get when the team finally gets some time off, but you brain is stuck in this void of being unable to commit to any hobbies you once enjoyed. You told him about it once, it was offhandedly and you hadn’t delved much into it with due to still being fairly new and not wanting to bother the apparent cold stone lieutenant. Simon paid attention though, and this detail about yourself had been added to his mentail folder of his teammates.

A deep breath huffed out your nose, head drooping into your folded arms, when your ears picked up on the sound of light footsteps entering the kitchen area you resided.

“The usual?”, came Simons gruff voice, large hands reaching into the cabinet for your and his mugs.

“The usual.”, you mumbled in reply, staring at your phone and resisting the urge to start doom scrolling.

It was a battle you lost as you reached out to open an app and scroll mindlessly through its feed, the light clinking of Simon making you both tea behind you. You’re not sure how long he had taken, too lost in the endless information of peoples lives and other nonsensical things scrolling past your dulled eyes, not registering a thing you watched or read. At some point though, your phone had been snatched from your hands, replaced by a warm cup of your favorite tea, Simon pulling out the chair beside you to sit with his own.

You couldn’t even bother the smallest fuss at the large soldier for taking your phone, simpling taking a sip and then blindly staring into the liquid void.

“That bad today?”

You nod with a groan, putting your cup down to splay your hands out at the objects you once enjoyed before you.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought maybe I was bogged down by knowing I had chores to take care of, but even after finishing those I still can’t get myself to do any of my hobbies!”

Simon sipped his tea, dark eyes glancing up at your downtrodden expression. You thought nothing of his silence, having known him for a while now that his silence was him listening. If he truly wasn’t interested, he would have left, hell he wouldn’t have even bothered to make you a drink.

“I just. . .”, you hold your head in your hands, “I don’t feel myself. I finally get a break, and I can’t do anything I wanted to do. What’s the point of having hobbies if every time I try one of them, I immediately become disinterested?”

The Brit beside you stares down into his own mug now, thinking on your words, a silence filling in besides the muffled sound of Johnny bellowing songs in the shower upstairs. Before, he wouldn’t give two shits about something like this, leaving you to figure it out or not all on your own. Of course, being apart of the 141 it was only a matter of time before you became apart of this oddly dangerous family of sorts, and Simon found himself caring for you just as much as he did for the other three, even if he ever expressed it.

“Maybe doing nothin’, is what you’re suppos’d do.”

You quirked a brow at him.

“You? Telling me to do nothing?”

Simon rolled his eyes, sitting back against the creaking old dinning chair.

“Yeah, shocker I know, but trust me, after years of doing this shit, sometimes you jus’ gotta kick ya feet up and do fuck all.”

You look back to your tea before taking another sip, thinking on his words. He had a point though. As frustrating as it was, wanting to engage in activities that would normally bring you joy, it was only natural to not always be motivated to do them, especially with the grueling type of work you all did.

“Welp,” you shrug, closing your lap top shut and throwing your sketchbook atop it, “guess I’m doing fuck all today.”

A light, deep chuckle came from Simon, him always finding it kind of funny when outlandish vocabulary came from your lips. You never came off as the type to say such words, but then again you also didn’t exactly fit into the picture of the intimidating guys you were so close to.

“Good. Relax, ya earned it.”

You smile up at Simon, your eyes crinkling in the corners something that brought him some warmth.

“We earned it, Simon.”

#not proofread #some self comfort writing cuz I suck at not procrastinating things I like #and I feel bad cuz it’s a struggle to be productive #more self-indulgent #self indulgent #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #tf 141 x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader fluff

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gatorbites-imagines · 3 months ago

Note

Urggg I’ve been submitting this ask to multiple blogs for ages with different characters lol. How about the reader faking an orgasm with superboy or green lantern. Is it weird that I find how writers handle that prompt interesting? And when they take the route of the characters telling them to cut that shit out and doubling their efforts it makes me laugh.

Hal Jordan and Conner Kent/Kon-el

Headcanons

Since you didn’t specify which Green Lantern, I chose Hal since I love him very much. Individual headcanons for each won’t be as long as usual, since I wanted to write both.

couldnt find a good gif related to these too, so,,,

Hal Jordan

I think it depends on your guy’s relationship. If you two are a couple who’s been together for a while, Hal would notice one way or another. As a green lantern, Hal has gotten pretty damn good at reading body language, so he clocks you faking after a while.

I can see him huffing and sighing, not out of anger or anything, mainly just for show, before he hikes you into his lap or closer to him as he makes some comment about him not doing it good enough.

Hal would take it as a challenge, as long as you are into it of course. Don’t think you get out of talking about it, because you will. It becomes a bit annoying as pillow talk, but Hal wants feedback and wants to know how you’re doing.

He might even pull this in the middle of doing it, like making you look in his eyes to make you confirm that you’re good. When he gets the confirmation though, Hal doesn’t hold back. Since you felt the need to fake it, Hal feels the need to wring as many out of you as possible, just as payback, or so he says.

It’s no shocker that he’s great with his hands, and that the ring joins the fray at some point. Its just always so fun to catch you off guard with one of his projections, only to make you arch your back and moan about it five seconds after.

It ends up being a bit of an ego boost for Hal, but what else is new.

Conner Kent

I feel like Conner would clock it immediately. Having super senses gives him that advantage. Like hearing your heart does not stutter the same way as it normally does when you orgasm, or that he can’t immediately pick up the scent of your spend.

Depending on how far you guys are in your relationship, Conner would stop and ask. If it’s the very beginning of you two dating, he might not say anything, instead internalizing it and telling himself to try harder next time.

But if you guys are comfortable, Conner would just stop thrusting and look at you before asking if it doesn’t feel good and if you’re not up for it.

Conner would feel so bad if you felt like you had to sleep with him, which is why he asks and needs to know. And he’s always liked performing to the best of his abilities, so if he’s doing something you don’t like, he wants to know that too.

If its just one of those situations where you just… cant finish, then he wont feel bad about it either, though there’s a big chance he won’t want to keep going. Most of the fun is that you feel good, so you not enjoying it as much as he is takes the wind out his sails.

If its something he’s doing wrong, like not hitting the right place or grabbing you too tight, whatever, Conner will immediately take it as a challenge to make you see stars one way or another. His secret, not so secret weapon, is giving head, since he has no gag reflex, a very flexible tongue, and can hold his breath for probably hours if he wanted too.

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greenfiend · 10 months ago

Text

The Significance of Lover’s Lake and Byler (Theory) Part 2

Sequel to this post

(Warning: mentions of sex and drugs)

Okay so first of all, if you haven’t seen my previous post on my theory involving Lovers Lake and Byler, please read it first. I go over my theory and predictions for Byler and the heart shaped lake. This is a secondary post to it, outlining some VERY interesting details involving the owner of the lakeside house, the lakeside house itself, and all the romantic and sexual elements present. I’m saving the best for last here.

Let’s start with the owner of the lakeside house.

Reefer Rick

So I recently made a silly post arguing that the most queer coded character in Stranger Things is not Mike nor Will (nor Robin, Henry, Eddie etc), and I stand by this statement. The most queer coded character is: Reefer Rick. Now, I know we never see the guy, but literally all the information we have on him is either queer coding or drug references.

Synonyms of his name are literally f*g Dick, with a shared last name with the famous tea company founder who so happens to have been a homosexual: Lipton.

We know he doesn’t have a family, thus he’s a single man who occasionally has his buddy/fellow dealer Eddie stay over. Hm, not very heterosexual of him.

Then we have his movie list.

Now, as many of us know, the movie “Fast Times” is used within Stranger Things as a way to gage if someone is attracted to women or not. We have Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Vickie all confirmed to have enjoyed this movie… specifically for that shot at 53 minutes and 5 seconds. Sure, Reefer Rick rented the film, but why is it the only movie he rented that was returned on time? For context, he’s the only character who had films listed as “late” returns. So, he obviously enjoyed Cheech & Chong a lot more. Two guys doing drugs is more interesting to him than a sexy lady. Okay, noted.

Now, how is he perceived by the people of Hawkins?

Oooof. Okay. He’s not well liked it seems. He apparently is causing some fear and anger amongst the Hawkins residents. Kind of similar of a reaction these people would have towards an openly gay man during the 1980s.

Also I have to include @/conflictofthemind ‘s excellent point that injectable drug use and unprotected sex (specifically between two men) were both commonly associated with HIV/AIDS… a major epidemic during the 80s and a major subtextual theme within the show.

Now, where’s this guy live while outside of jail?

I don’t blame the guy for “hiding” when the town is not too fond of him. Of course he is a drug dealer so there’s that as well. But interesting they used the word “hide”, which has been associated with queerness within the show already (plus this line was said by Robin (featured in the middle of the shot!!!) who is queer herself).

(Both of these screenshots are from 1x02 interestingly enough.)

Wouldn’t it make sense for these two “hiders” to hide out in “a perfect place to hide” together? Seeking refuge in a fellow gay man’s secluded house?

I will say it’s also worth noting that he does not have any women featured on the walls within his house. Also, he has a phallic shaped bong (we’ll get back to that soon).

Phew okay so that’s Reefer Rick. Are you still with me? Hopefully I didn’t bore any of you with this. I promise you this all leads back to Byler.

So, moving on to his house.

So as @/therainscene kindly pointed out, this poster with the smiley face can be related to rave culture and ecstasy in the 1980s. So a drug reference, in a drug dealer’s house… shocker I know. But I gotta say, ecstasy is also a term often related to sex. I also have to add this little tidbit from one of our favourite directors of Stranger Things, Shawn Levy. Keep in mind, he knows what’ll happen in the next season… and he’s directing episodes after 3 and 4…

Interesting word choice, no?

So, back to the symbolism within (and near) the house.

Let’s talk about the phallic symbolism that appears in pairs in these shots. It’s a choice, isn’t it? With two males in each shot. We know the Duffers love details and foreshadowing… I doubt it’s a coincidence. Also, anyone else notice that phone in the background? Just had to mention it, since our boys are frequently associated with phones and calls.

Then, of course, I gotta bring back this shot.

The bed. Blue meets yellow. You know it! We all heard it a thousand times by now. Let’s look at what else is in the shot. A closed closet. Another reference to our boys. To the right, you’ll see a toilet paper roll. Now, if you have a brother, you might see the same thing in his room. Sure it can be used as a tissue for your nose but let’s just say there’s usually another use for it. I’ll call it “self love”. So, basically, another sexual reference.

To sum up this house: lake/water, drugs, and ecstasy/smiley face. Now, let’s go back to a scene featuring our boys with all these elements in the background.

Makes you wonder doesn’t it?

I must also point out the “Paris” poster in the background. City of love, anyone? Plus the fireworks. They’re really trying to tell us something here.

Also, @/foodiewithdahoodie pointed out how Paris specifically was one of the first places to decriminalize sodomy.

You know, I also wouldn’t rule out every aspect of Murray’s prediction here.

Shout out to the Hylers out there!

Perhaps after a lot of stressful days of fighting interdimentional demons, these boys want to wind down and de-stress in their hiding spot. I can see Reefer Rick as a fellow Nintendo player, leaving his console behind, as well as his weed, for our boys to use. I also wouldn't be surprised if Eddie left a few of his beers behind. I mean… Murray has a pretty good track record for predictions. This would also really double down on the message that Mike and Will “aren’t kids anymore.”

Also, wouldn’t it be fun to look back at Murray’s predictions and realize that they’ve all come to be?

Okay, now let’s finally get to the romance elements!

First thing I want to start with is this shot:

So… they had to show us a mailbox, didn’t they? With that name “Lipton” which as I mentioned in my previous post… is associated with Thomas Lipton who had a lover named William Love.

1 point for #lettergate

And…

“Hope Our Love Lives/Lasts And Never Dies”

WWII solders used the acronym H.O.L.L.A.N.D. to convey a love message in a letter. The whole love letters association with Mike and Will never end, do they?

2 points for #lettergate!

As for the “2121”, I think it’s possible that it’s referencing multiple things… number references are tricky like that in my opinion. But I will say that @/thestrangestthing89 brought up the fact that “2121” could be a reference to “Twin Flames” which is yet another reference to romance.

Continuing on with the romance…

Let’s return back to the scene where Reefer Rick is first mentioned. After Max mentioned him, we are cut to Steve talking about a movie.

A movie filled with action and romance, you say?

So… Doctor Zhivago.

Basically a tale of two people in love during a difficult time (Russian Revolution) being separated, with other people, then finally reunited. Not completely unlike our boys. Notice how the “adult” sign is noticeable in the background. Not kids anymore.

He mentions action, which I’m sure there will be some of as well at the famous lake.

Okay enough with the silly details, let’s stop and look at the bigger picture.

Our beloved lake. Look how gorgeous it truly is. Plus the fact that it’s a literal heart? You can’t get more “on the nose” than that.

Now, who else is known as a heart? (Tough question I know…)

This boy is, without a doubt, narratively tied to the lake. He is “the heart”… he is THE LAKE (symbolically).

Thank you to @/everaster for bringing attention to the fact that after Mike was pushed to deliver that monologue to El by Will, Max “died”, then the gates opened WIDE. One of those gates, as we know, is located within Lover’s Lake… known was “watergate” (term coined by Dustin).

So, as of now in this story… Lover’s Lake is literally broken in two. A broken heart in need of mending.

Who better to accomplish that task than the boy who has known him for a decade and loves him completely and selflessly?

💌📬❤️‍🩹

Hope you enjoyed these posts as much as I enjoyed making them! It’s honestly so much fun looking for evidence and finding such interesting stuff. Some of it may be reaching, and that’s okay because it’s all in good fun! That’s what fandoms are all about.

The level of attention to detail in this show never ceases to amaze me! There’s so much depth and clues to look for and play around with. I hope to have sparked some inspiration and creativity for some people! 💛💙💚

As always, would love to know your thoughts!

#Byler #loverslakegate #lovers lake #stranger things #stranger things 5 #Mike wheeler #Will Byers #byler theory #stranger things theory

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deedeeznoots · 8 months ago

Text

You’re? Correction! I’m Yours

➺ Characters: Ryomen Sukuna, GN!Reader

➺ Word Count: 900+

➺ Genre: Fluff

➺ Content: Non-Curse!AU, Nerd!Sukuna, Established Relationship (with some pre-relationship sprinkled in), Swearing

➺ A/N: Shout out to my wonderful mutual @heian-era-housewife for this post about Heian Era Sukuna doing poetry. If she’s reading this: I hope you don’t mind the tag but your post seriously inspired a huge chunk of these headcanons 🥹

➺ Synopsis: Headcanons of all the nerdy things Sukuna does because deep down inside that’s all he is and all he wishes to be ❤️

➺ At first glance he doesn’t read as someone who would be super nerdy or all that interested in learning.

➺ I mean, can you blame anyone? No one really expects the dude constantly looking for a fight to pull up with some textbooks during his free time.

➺ Once you get to know him though, you realize that on the inside he is in fact a giant nerd about basically everything.

➺ It starts off subtly: at first you’d ask him questions and he’d be able to easily come up with answers without even giving it a second thought.

➺It could be a question about anything, regardless of the subject or perceived difficulty, and Sukuna would be able to explain it to you. Not only that, but he’d be able to explain it to you in a way that made it sound like the simplest thing in the world.

➺ At one point you basically just started playing trivia and just started asking him stuff normal people didn’t know the answers for and he’d answer with ease, albeit he’d get really annoyed with your constant random questions.

➺ Sometimes if he’s really excited about a subject his explanations would turn into full lectures that’d put most college professors to shame.

➺ Although it was shocking at first, it started to make sense when you realized that the main reason why he takes time to learn about stuff is because he’s constantly bored and looking for new things to entertain him.

➺ He’s good at basically everything so long as it piques his curiosity, but his one and only love will forever be literature, mostly because of how infinite the possibilities are with the medium.

➺ He’s well versed in literature of all genres and different cultures, but he is the most drawn toward Japanese works (and let’s be honest, his favorites would probably come from the Heian Period).

➺ Ever since getting with you, he’s been leaning more toward the romance genre. Just in case he needs any inspiration on how to spice up your relationship, you know?

➺ He’s taught himself multiple languages just for fun and to see how far he could go.

➺ He LOVES poetry, he both writes and reads it a lot and it’s his favorite hobby besides eating.

➺ Other than literature, he also has a huge fascination with art.

➺ He designed his own tattoos because he wanted to play with the idea of turning his body into a canvas. It also just so happened to make him look intimidating as hell which was a plus in his book.

➺ He also has a little journal that he carries around and he sketches a lot whenever he’s bored or sees something interesting.

➺ As for styles, he’s a really big fan of Sumi-e painting because he’s allergic to color but he basically just uses and does whatever he feels like at the moment.

➺ He’s the type of person who draws what he sees, but he would especially enjoy drawing nature.

➺ He would go out on hikes whenever he felt the need to draw and would walk until he found something interesting.

➺ He’s really into meditation while he draws and he uses sketching as a way to keep himself level headed during particularly annoying days.

➺ He isn’t too fond of drawing people, but you’d be the exception.

➺ He would 1000% draw you while you sleep. It’s the perfect time since you’d be still for most of it.

➺ Sukuna is able to write really good cursive and also does calligraphy because he got bored one time (shocker) and so decided to see if he was able to do it well and to no one’s surprise, he was eventually able to.

➺ The reason why he leans towards the humanities so much is because they’re both subjects no one can really “master”. With both art and literature, there isn’t a point where someone knows absolutely everything about either subject. Since Sukuna loves a challenge, he wants to be the first person to go “Fuck you, I DO know everything about this”.

➺ One of the little things he does every day includes writing you short little romantic poems on a post it note and leaving them in out random spots for you to find.

➺ Sometimes they would be in your pocket or other times on the bathroom mirror, wherever it is they would make you smile.

➺ Though, sometimes he would stick them onto such odd spots that you’d wonder just how he did it?

➺ He has TONS of pride in his writing (to be fair, he’s prideful about basically anything he does) and he always appreciates it when you mention his little notes and complement the work he put into writing them.

➺ Sometimes when the both of you are talking together he’d say some of the most poetic sentences that you’ve ever heard like it’s nothing.

➺ When you gasp he just goes “What? Why are you staring at me like that?” as if he didn’t randomly drop lines that sounded like they came from straight out of a novel.

➺ He’s a dick when it comes to spelling and grammar, especially during petty arguments.

➺ “How many times do I have to tell you, if your going to the restroom put the damn seat down afterwards” ➺ “It’s YOU’RE*, actually” ➺ “Fine, YOU'RE** a piece of shit Ryomen!”

➺ Don’t fret though, because while Ryomen Sukuna wants to know anything and everything there is to know about the world, he knows deep down inside that the best thing the world could have ever offered him was you.

➺ Edit: Okay I made this story quite a while ago but I HAVE ANOTHER HEADCANON TO ADD! I think his observation skills are super on point which is how he’s able to understand things so easily

A/N: Everyone list what you think Sukuna’s favorite book(s) would be 🗣️

A/N: If you enjoyed my thoughts on Sukuna, you’d love this story I also wrote paired with some headcanons!

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hotnbloodied · 2 months ago

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(I was wondering can you do part two on it, like have yandere childhood friends past girlfriends show up and be ruin to F reader because of how angry they are and basically lie about how physically he got with them to make f reader jealous and angry, but this just makes f reader upset and confront yandere childhood friend, and he gets so made that he wanted revenge, and prove to her how she the only one that can make him feel good.

Yan!Player!Childhood Friend X F!Reader PT2.

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

CW: not proof read, female reader, sloppy writing, yandere tendencies, drama, possessive tendencies, violence (not towards reader), knife mention, slut shaming (not towards reader)

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

Part 1

You and Luka were now social media official! After the debacle of the double date you and Luka changed your social media statuses last night before bed. When morning came around you stepped out of Luka’s room and into his living room where you were finally able to give Veronica a call back. “Why weren’t you picking up your phone calls? I was so worried! Are you okay now? Do you need me to pick you up? Where are you?” Question after question about your well being flooded out of the speaker of your phone. You weren’t close to your family but if you had a caring older sister you’d imagine this is what she’d be like. With a smile, you responded to the worried Veronica over the line, “I’m fine, Luka and I made up. And I’m sorry I bailed on your boyfriends’ friend and you guys last night.” “What?!”

You explained to Veronica that you and Luka had talked all night and that all throughout the years it was all a horrible miscommunication on both of your parts and that you and Luka had mutual feelings the entire time. By the end of it Veronica was audibly aghast. “I can’t believe this…” she said. “But, this won’t change how appreciative I am to you Veronica. You have always been there for me.” Veronica’s laugh could be heard over the line, “we’re besties you know? I just hope that you can stay happy from now on.” After a little more conversing, you and Veronica agreed to meet up for lunch with everyone sometime before hanging up. You walked back over to see if Luka was still awake but he was still sleeping. You went over to his kitchen to check what he had in his fridge but all that was in there was a ketchup bottle and a case of beer.

Seeing the lost cause you went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit before heading to the grocery store to get some ingredients for breakfast. Nothing too crazy, probably some eggs, toast and sausage, just a typical breakfast. You noticed the cut up assorted fruits though and thought that might make a great addition as a side dish. As you were eyeing the product you noticed someone also trying to get a look behind you so you turned to look so you could get out of the way but realize it was the same girl that was with Luka last night! You felt awkward so you tried to just leave towards check out but she stopped you by addressing you. “Oh hey, you’re the girl that left with Luka yesterday weren’t you?” You turned awkwardly, “uh yeah.” Looking at her now you realized how pretty she was, her hair looked smooth with no dead ends, her outfit was trendy and it highlighted her bodacious assets and not to mention, she smelled nice.

“If you’re going to see Luka from now on I suggest buying some water,” she giggled, “he’s a bit of a beast when it comes to the bedroom and you need to keep hydrated when you can. Well, you probably experienced it last night anyway I assume.” You looked at her incredulously, “w-what..?” The girl’s face turned into a surprised look coupled with her mouth forming into a ‘o’. “He didn’t sleep with you last night? Oh my, that’s a shocker, he’s known for that you know? He was the same way with me, but don’t worry! I’m sure you’ll get to experience it tonight.” She walked over to you and placed the mixed fruit container in your hand, “You’re going to need this too,” she giggled.

Checking out and returning to Luka’s place was a blur. You were pulled out when you saw Luka about to leave his house but he stopped when he saw you. “Where have you been?” He asked worriedly, walking over and giving you a hug. You couldn’t help but tear up, “I went grocery shopping and saw the girl you were with at the event yesterday. She told me that you really did play around with other women. You weren't lying to me when you told me everything you told me last night, right?” Luka’s rage bubbled, he saw red but he can’t leave you to deal with that bitch right now. He knew he needed to comfort you. So he brought you back into his apartment, assuring you the whole time that he would never lie to you. He made breakfast with the stuff you bought from the market and took care of you all day and didn’t leave your side. That was until nightfall came and you were already deep in sleep.

The girl from earlier was on her way home from the club, she went out to blow off some steam from being dropped like a sack of potatoes by Luka yesterday. But her mood did lighten after she told you the bold faced lie about Luka, she snickered to herself, remembering how much of a gullible idiot she thought you were and how your face dropped. She finally got to her apartment and made her way inside. Turning on the light she almost couldn’t believe her eyes, the whole place was trashed. “Wha…” She was in disbelief, was she robbed? She had to call the police. “I’d advise against that,” it was Luka, he casually made himself known by walking out from behind a wall. The girl felt her blood drain, “w-what are you doing here? How did you get in?” Slowly walking towards her, he pulls out a knife while whistling. “What are you going to do with that, I’m going to scream for help.” It was almost amusing to Luka that this girl thinks that’s a threat. “You could,” he starts, “if you do that though, I can’t guarantee your DMs won’t be leaked. I find it so interesting with how many men who give money you are involved with. It’s a pretty lucrative gig isn’t it?” The girl bursted out in tears and grabbed onto his pant leg, “n-no! My parents can’t know about that!” Luka laughed and leaned down to violently tug at the girls’ hair, “then fucking fix what you did,” he said while also pointing the knife at her throat. “I-I don’t know what I did! I s-sorry!” She sobbed some more. “I don’t appreciate people who lie about me, especially to my girlfriend.” “I’ll fix it, I swear!” Satisfied with the answer he shoved her away, “we’ll be at the mall tomorrow, fix it then or else mommy and daddy will see how much of a whore their little girl is.”

The next day Luka suggested you two go to the mall, he promised that he would buy you anything you wanted. The both of you had already hit up a couple of stores and you were really enjoying yourself but at some point you needed to use the restroom. As you were finishing up, in came the same girl, your heart dropped as you made eye contact with her. But you also noticed that she looked like she had been crying. “You’re that girl,” she said. “Ah…yes.” “I wanted… to apologize to you about what I said yesterday.” “Huh…?” “I said all those things about Luka because I was bitter about him dumping me, but we really didn’t do anything together. We just went on that one date.” “Oh… thank you for telling me,” you were relieved, in fact, more than relieved, “are you okay by the way? You look like you’ve been crying.” “I-it’s allergies! Don’t worry about me!” The girl quickly said before disappearing into a stall. You shrugged and left the restroom to where Luka was waiting for you. “Luka, I saw the girl again in the restroom.” “Oh no darling, did she do something to you?” He asked while getting up and checking you all over. “Oh no, she just apologized for lying. I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Luka.” He pulled you into a big hug, “of course it’s okay darling, no one will ever get in between us ever again.”

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inlovewithdob · 4 months ago

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Again?

(I kinda hate this also first time writing smut so not sure if face riding was the best idea but I hope it’s still enjoyable to read but stiles makes everything better)

18+ mdi, not proofread

It had started off as a regular friday night movie-marathon sleepover, with “Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith” selected as the evenings choice (for the hundredth time). Your right cheek smooshed against his chest facing the block of screen in front of the awkward shaped couch holding up your cuddling bodies. Until the scene where anakin wakes up all sweaty and shirtless from a bad dream sparked something in you and your hand began to absentmindedly draw “innocent”little shapes along his torso dragging lower and lower. Right before your sneaky little fingers made its way beneath his flannel pants, his slender fingers encircled your wrist preventing them from going any further. “And what do you think you’re doing?” Stiles questioned, amused by your actions.

“Nothing” you chirped, to quickly to hide your sheepish tone.

“Huh that’s funny, cause it looked like you were getting a bit handsy there” he quipped with a raised brow.

“Whatever” you mumbled, stubbornly burying your face back in his chest to not give him the satisfaction of seeing your flustered expression

The curve of his pointer finger hooked underneath your chin to face up at him again “oh come don’t be embarrassed. I know what shirtless anakin does to you, but I’m not jealous since I know you find me hotter and I get to reap all the delicious benefits” His finger was quick to block your lips attack to his. Grinning when his ears caught your mumbled “jerk”

Your pouted lips part to start your whine but then get immediately smashed with his. He must’ve have been waiting for this since the movie started, because he almost can’t bear to wait a single second longer before his tongue pierces its way through your mouth’s opening, deeply exploring its surroundings and groaning at the lingering taste of peach rings still coating your taste buds. The air in your lungs gets momentarily knocked out with how tight and quickly his veined protruding arms lock around your waist. With your hands instinctively following the curve of his chest towards the nape of his neck slipping the brown fluffs between your fingers. Pulling with a slight -but aggressive- tug, emitting a delicious almost-whimper that found its way up his throat. That was your tipping point, physically feeling the pool of arousal leaking into your panties.

“Sti…need more-please” your wines cutting out with every roll of your aching core against his rapidly growing bulge. Desperate for that delicious taste of friction.

“Sit on my face baby” your expression visibly changed at his reply.

That’s not something you’ve guys ever even talked about it. Let alone- done. You weren’t sure if his words were an accident. Or his horniness got the best of him (wow shocker). I mean…you didn’t hate the idea. He was the first to initiate going down on you most of the time. Devouring your overstimulated cunt until you had to literally pull away his latched mouth by a fistful of his hair. Blocking out his whines of protests, ‘taste so good’ ‘more baby please’. Needless to say you both thoroughly enjoyed the activity. So I mean face sitting could only be better. But of course, you still had your doubts.

“What?”

“You heard me, I want you to sit on my face” his golden orbs darkening by the second, boring into yours.

“How much porn have you been watching?” You tease, in an attempt to lighten the mood

“None, I already told you you’re the only porn I need.” He pauses to readjust the needy hard-on straining the tight material of his jeans “just want your pillowy thighs squeezing my eyes out. Want you to use me, ride my face. Need it”

“But sti” your quick to protest. “What if I choke you? Or suffocate you? Oh god, or if I like I don’t know, drown you in my come? Is that even possible? Whatever. Oh my god and what if I?- AH”

Your ramble comes to halt with the insert of his finger inside your dripping heat erupting a moan from deep within. You were to busy word vomiting to realize he was sneakily pulling your attire to the side. A whine soon following when he pulled away.

“Baby” he murmurs, “drowning in your come, buried in between your thighs, literally sounds like the perfect way to die”

“I just don’t wanna hurt you” you mumbled, chin drooping towards your chest no longer holding eye contact.

His features softened “The only way you would hurt me is if you don’t sit on my face” he spoke gently, “and if it makes you feel any better, I’ll tap your thigh three times if it’s to much” (spoiler alert. He doesn’t)

Your plump lips flash a small smile, grateful he was making sure you were comfortable and showing that he wants it as well.

As soon as you nodded, his hands were quick to rid you of those flowy pajama shorts and panties that were no good anymore from how soaked through they were(another to add to the collection). Already guiding your hips to straddle above his overly eager face.

“Are you sure about this?” Not even trying to hide the uncertainty in your voice

“Couldn’t be anymore sure, now please baby, sit on my face, need it” you could feel the bruising indents his palms were already starting to leave on your hips from how tight his grip is to control himself from just plopping you on his mouth and never letting you back up.

His encouraging words sparked enough confidence to start slowly lowering yourself onto his awaiting mouth. Your core slowly makes its descent down but abruptly stopped

“Stiles I don’t know about thi- AH” his patience snapped. And took matters into his own hands, and sunk you down himself. Not even letting you adjust to the new feeling of the upturn of his nose lodged in your pelvis or the tip of his tongue rapidly assaulting your dripping cunt, selfishly lapping up his favorite flavor.

“Fuck this is amazing” he groans, circling the tip of his nose around your sensitive nub.

It’s all to much. The sensations intensifying by the second. Unforgivingly lapping at your folds ignoring your pleads of overstimulation. His sweet little praises flowing from his mouth are complete dichotomy to the other sinful things it’s doing. The thin sheet of sweat beading its way down your flushed body. The sounds of pure bliss tumbling past your parted lips only encouraging him to redouble his ministrations. Not even hiding or embarrassed in any way on how his hands rummage for any skin-on-skin contact they can locate. Whether it’s tweaking your pebby teats, cupping the curve of your ass to stimulate a grinding movement against his overjoyed face. Or just down right palming and stroking himself.

“So clo-OH-se- need more-AH” you wale, your hips gyrating against his nose’s peak on their own accord.

“Shh baby, I got you” he murmurs gently as if he isn’t completely devouring your sex. Neither of you both were ever good at lasting long, leading to several breaks between rounds. Picking up on your slight tenses and chocked gasps. And upgrading to an ungodly pace. It only took one more dive of his skilled muscle before gushes of white-hot heat ascended through your quivering body. The pleasure band located in your lower tummy snapping emitting a loud cry from both of your lips. The feeling of your tangy arousal drenching his face paired with the sound of his name tumbling from your flushed lips in whiney moans didn’t help with the painful hard on he’s struggling with currently. God he will never get over how good you look when you come.

The movements of his tongue doesn’t falter, only slows down enough to drag out your blissful high for as long as possible. From the way he looks underneath you, it would seem like he’s the one who just got the life sucked out of him. But he’s a giver and finds comfort in your happiness (and also got to eat you out and play with your breasts which is always a win). Once your panting smooths into a more normal breathing pace, he carefully lifts you up from the waist and lays you down against the couch while he gets up, and whispers a “be right back”. But you barely notice, already sleepily getting situated on the plush cushions searching for comfort and warmth. After a bit he returns and a smile grows on his face at the sight of you curled up with his pillow to inpatient for him to bring back a blanket. But he still gently lays it on top you. And takes it upon himself to clean up the mess of crumbs your junk food made and pressed ‘off’ on the tv remote.

Once the living room looked ‘good enough’ or clean enough to not receive a scolding by his dad. He found comfort in laying next to your unconscious dazed out body, sandwiching you between his warmth and the couch sealed off with a fluffy blanket on top of you both. Of course he somehow managed to trip and let out an embarrassingly high pitched yelp, awaking you. “Sti?”

“Shh shh go back to sleep” he murmured, quick to let you get back to your much needed slumber and wrapping his arm around your tank top clad waist impossibly closer.

“Love’ou” was all you could manage to respond in your drowsy condition

“I love you to” he punctuated with a soft kiss to your forehead. But his gentle demeanor morphed into a more cheeky mischievous one.

“Soooo, when can we do that again?”

#dylan o'brien #x reader #fanfic #new writer #taylor swift #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #smut #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi smut #dylan obrien x reader #Dylan obrien smut

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firefly--bright · 9 months ago

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the drywall confessions.

jean kirstein x fem!reader , modern a.u

summary ; making a home out of the walls that surround you was easy when it was the two of you.

warnings ; none! what a shocker

a/n : something short and sweet! im still in the process of writing d2d and masquerade hehe. summer break just started so it might take just a little more time :3 inspired by this reel i saw on instagram. also requests are now open since i'll have more time to write!!

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeancremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes .

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ join my taglist ✿ requests are open! ✿ songs to listen to while reading !

If walls could talk, they’d sing praises of your love.

the dark brown scuff against the right wall of the living room that was left when you and jean tried to move the couch by yourself was all but proof of that moment. He almost stubbed his toe, and you almost tripped over the carpet, but after the couch found it’s new home only a tad bit to the left from where it was before, the two of you heaved a breath as you reaped the rewards of your hard work on the couch, wiping the sweat off of your forehead. Jean grumbled about how it didn’t really make a difference. You had a ready answer on your tongue; pointing to the now one inch of extra space – “look at all this free space we have!” with a sarcastic grin on your face. Jean took one glance at you and knew he had to laugh, if only a little, if only to please you, if only because he loved you.

if walls could talk, they’d tell jean about how much you missed him while he was gone.

The business trip wasn’t even that long, only about two weeks, and it wasn’t even the longest the two of you had gone without each other, but it was enough for you to notice his absence after your move into the apartment together. The walls watched softly, reflecting the sunlight off of themselves, as you accidentally pulled out two mugs instead of just yours – your see-through, glass mug with small hand drawn flowers on it with a thin crack along it’s base that you were only mildly concerned about and his usual mug that said, in big bold letters, “NUMBER 1 COUGAR”. the walls noticed how often your eyes strayed away to the screen of your phone, hoping every time that it would be his message lighting up your screen. And later at night, when everything was dark and he finally did, the walls observed, that you eagerly picked up and talked and listened and talked until the only thing they heard was your small snores. The phone call ended three hours after you had slept, they’d note.

If the walls could talk, they’d whisper critiques about your decoration choices.

It didn’t make sense, really. Everything on the shelves was eclectic and without any structure. The bookshelf was really just a name of what it was supposed to be, but held objects that were far more precious than pages. Jean’s hereditary vinyls that he’d unapologetically stolen from his childhood home along with the record player, small plants that each had their own names, pictures from photobooths that you had taken throughout the years – some with just the two of you, some with your friends, some with you and your cat. lamps with warmly lit bulbs in them of varying heights and colours, collecting a small but unseen amount of dust on their bases simply because “jean. This looks exactly like the lamp that crushed pixar’s 'i'” “why are we supporting an abuser, then?” and “this one looks like a mushroom!” “babe, we have so many lamps already-“ “jean, this one is a mushroom.” They were good lighting for your old and new artworks, some of them messily made but with more than enough personality for the walls to be able to speak through them. And if they could speak, they’d tell you about all the sketches of you they’d see jean draw but never show; all his loving being silent but all-consuming.

And the walls would scold you for ruining their perfectly white canvas into something better-worse.

Jean agreed that maybe the smudges could be fixed by painting over the whole damn wall. “im getting sick of this white.” “that’s very racist.” followed by a scoff from the former, as he opened the pinterest browser on his laptop, asking you to shift closer to him to get a better view at his screen. Not because he thought your warmth was mandatory for him to function, of course not.

The walls would retell how scared they were when jean got those small pots of paint, you sat in your most worn-down and ruined pair of pyjamas infront of the white wall that currently had too many stains for it to go unnoticed. Jean opened the can with a butterknife with a, “dude, couldn’t you have gotten, like, a popsickle stick?” “a whole pack of fifty for one paint can?” “we could’ve made popsickles.” “uh huh. You just want an excuse for something sweet.” to which you only smiled ear to ear and jean wondered if you knew that he didn’t need something sweet as long as you were infront of him.

The painting job inevitably failed. Two sort-of artists that thought it was something they could accomplish ended up with a wall of mismatched paint and aching shoulders and stained fingers. You called it a night with pizza and washed hands, jean cradled calcifer – your adorable but petty cat – in his arms like a spoiled baby and placed several kisses on his furry forehead as you sat down with plates in your hand. jean joined you on the ground, letting the furball run free across the apartment before resting his head on your thigh.

The walls would have notes of what not to do while repainting them as one of those two sort-of artists waited for her beloved to leave the house the next day and once again, sat down and drew a small heart with the residual pastel paint left in the pot, a small and satisfied smile on her face even if it was only for a small mark.

The day after the next, when she took the paint, her fingers itching to claim the walls as theirs again – she found three small stars around the heart that she did not remember drawing. Smiling, you put down your signature flower and leaf combo before closing everything back up and waiting for the vandalism wars to begin.

By the time the walls could recall how jean proposed to you, the bottom of the bedroom wall that was conveniently covered up by the bed held countless doodles. Some of them were smaller, cuter versions of the two of you with big eyes and small bodies holding hands, some of them were far more detailed version of them – just their faces with their eyes looking at the other - despite their small size. The most remarkable ones, however, were your initials written on the wall. Bottom corner of the bedroom wall were the initials of the people that loved the most while residing in their walls that could only be seen if anyone was actively looking for them, seeking them out.

If the walls could talk, they would talk about you and jean.

Despite the bustling and distracting city outside, jean’s vinyls played their safe melodies as you pulled out two mugs from the cabinet in the kitchen, jean’s arms wrapped around your back as you prepared coffee for the pair of you in your respective mugs. Jean would hold back a small grin at the mug that was now his signature – the one that you gifted him when you were only friends and just getting to know each other, the one that made him know that he’d want you in his life for far longer. The walls would sing the songs of jean’s record player as you sat near the coffee table in your living room and typed away on your laptop, calcifer snoring peacefully on his father’s lap, the latter with his own laptop infront of him. The walls would tell you how much he loved you because he would look at you so often they wondered if he ever got sick of the view – but they didn’t. the walls didn’t talk because they knew you knew. They could tell you accounted all his actions and return them tenfold, in your own silent but all-consuming ways.

If the walls could talk, they wouldn’t want to because you slept on his shoulder after coming home late from work and finding him on the couch with his eyes closed. They wouldn’t talk because they’d see you wrap a blanket around his shoulders before snuggling up next to him – gently, softly, so as to not wake him up.

If the walls could talk, they’d say nothing because everything was already said and known.

If the walls could talk, they wouldn’t have to.

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #jean kirstein x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtein

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thecoffeelorian · 2 months ago

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The Anomaly Series, Chapter 2: Connections (Jod Na Nawood x Reader)

A/N: Soooooo. I may not be able to do this every week, but I had a spurt of inspiration recently, so for now I decided to keep going. Hope that's okay!

Chapter Title: Connections

Genre: Drama/Romance; Slow Burn

Word Count: 1,235 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: Have I done some research that suggests how Jod is both a Force-Sensitive AND a space pirate...? I sure have. Do I have any clue, though, how the parents are going to shrug off this dystopian government in order to find their kids? I sure don't. Nevertheless, the spoilers here remain more or less recent.

No Pressure Tags:

@ladysongmaster @amawu23 @evabellasworld @tarak1495 @jedinerd27

@braveincafleet @xitlalli2001 @leos-multifandom-corner @nonniecannie @khaleesihavilliard

@cc-cobalt-1043 @bridge-always @illithiddreams @gun-roswell @kucharka23

@bruceewayne @robin-hyperfixates @shirley-girly @lulalovez @deepestballoonllama-fandoms

@seekerbear90 and anyone else looking to give a little love to our favorite space pirate.

They’re watching you now, this Reclamation Committee, and not because you’ve recently performed any Acts of Service to your community. On the one hand, as the formerly missing kids have already been sent to their Debriefing and will be cleared to return home as soon as possible, naturally, their family members will be joining them in whatever room or building this procedure is scheduled to take place.

On the other hand, however, Wendle has still already given you his raised eyebrow treatment; Undersecretary Fara has promised you your own round of questioning; and all the others you’re not that acquainted with yet have already started up on their own respective grumbling. Apparently, they’re getting just a little bit fearful that you might try to help this notorious space pirate escape justice, or so you can tell rather well by the changes in their expressions.

Small wonder, then, that you’re only too happy to exit your work site when the time comes, your mind caught between annoyance and mild panic at the harshness of this new treatment.

Who in the galaxy do they think they are, these people in charge who are quick to judge you over a single minute of weakness? Nobody asked that criminal—that man—to tag along on the children’s flight home, so obviously, you were just as surprised as they were to see him stepping off at all.

You also didn’t expect any ‘suddenly proven legend of deep space’ to come in looking like that, let alone somebody so notorious as this “Crimson Jack”. That, too, had been a shocker for you, and if you could have your way—which, Maker willing, you would soon enough—you would be all too careful not to look into his eyes a second time for fear of drowning in them.

No, if the tiny queasy feeling you felt deep inside your stomach told you anything, it would be more than smart to stay away from that one. You already had the life that your parents hoped for you, the stable job that your little society had seen fit to grant you, and to top it all off, you would be meeting the first of many potential Life Partners in the next 2 rotations.

In other words, there was no reason whatsoever for you to throw all of this safety and security away.

So why, then, did you find yourself thinking of him all over again…?!

Before you let yourself stew in what you call ‘the old mental juices’ too much, you sit yourself down in your chair almost as soon as you walk into your small apartment; the muted tones of light yellow and pale redberry having a slight soothing effect upon your otherwise rattled nerves. With your careful choices of white linen curtains, pale orange chairs, and light brown side tables with a few personal items scattered throughout, it’s just about everything a lady like you could ask for after such a difficult day. All that’s really missing here is your afternoon cup of caf, your hour’s worth of contemplation and reading up on local headlines, and finally, when you’re ready, a quick dinner made on your little stove.

And yet, even though you know you’re calming yourself down and there’s no one else around to bother you...still there’s an odd buzzing feeling coming from the back of your head, almost like something’s just a little out of place.

Or, dare you even begin to think it…like somebody might be watching you.

Without thinking twice, you turn quickly to look behind you, your breathing and heart rate going up a notch. There aren’t any strange people grinning down at you from any place nearby, or, at least, not on the inside. Maybe one of the security droids was out on patrol, and you heard it roll past your door just now. Perfectly normal procedures. Very present, very helpful, and absolutely nothing for you to worry about.

At least…not until your focus shifts to your electronic notepad sitting on the side table, as well as the single word that instantly sends a chill up and down your spine.

Hello.

Oh, kriff it, but you know for a fact that you’re not the one who wrote that message. Not only has your matching pen been sitting motionless beside your notepad, you’re also about 99.9% sure that if anybody had broken in before your arrival just to mess with your head like this, the security droids would have already caught them.

But then again, if absolutely no one from the outside—yourself included—could have written that, then who did?

I see you.

Your answer comes in an instant, the letters appearing upon the screen just as surely as if he—that man, Crimson Jack—had been standing there and writing them himself. Your pulse might not exactly be slowing down at the sight of it, since you’re now a bit disturbed that somebody like him would dare to barge in unannounced like this, to start slipping past your defenses even if he couldn’t exactly see that they existed in the first place—and yet.

Nothing could have prepared you for the rush of emotion that comes afterward, or that even deeper, almost painful, sense of heat and cold that threatens to overtake you. It’s enough to make you want to turn around and run right out of your house, your neighborhood, possibly even your sector—and still feels heavy enough to keep you frozen in place.

And still, over everything that’s happened today, over his surprise appearance, your even worse reaction to making eye contact with him, and all the responses of your associates that clearly frown upon you now where they once smiled at you in welcome—there’s one last question hanging in the air.

What. Are. You…?

You almost expect some instant response out of this, some reply that could otherwise validate whatever connection, commlink, thing, is happening between you. Whatever it is, it's certainly felt like a force of nature written small, and so you're watching that screen in a shaky silence, almost daring the words to appear.

You'll have to start writing me back, sweetheart.

A few seconds pass by before you remember your pen, the obvious choice for something so simple as this. Of course you're going to have to rely on alternate means of communication, because as far as you know, neither one of you has any datapads with a direct link to the other, and so you're both left at a huge kriffing disadvantage here.

Ugh. Get it together, stupid.

This is why you don't think twice about scribbling the words upon the screen, though not without hoping that whatever higher power might be in control of this situation, they find a way to not think of you as a failure. That you're somehow worthy to take this a step or two further, and so establish a direct line of communication with Crimson Jack as soon as possible.

Provided, of course, that you can manage to sidestep both your superiors and the security droids.

Thankfully, it’s not that long before Jack himself responds to you once more, the letters forming on the screen a bit slower this time, like he’s putting a bit more thought into them—and with it, there comes your next surprise of the day.

It’s simple, sweetheart. I’m a person who needs your help.

#star wars #skeleton crew #star wars skeleton crew #starwarsblr #spoilers up to episode 3 #jod na nawood #jod na nawood x reader #skeleton crew fanfiction #jude law #crimson jack #captain silvo #jod squad #sc: anomaly #ao3 #archive of our own #happy silvo saturday!#jod na nawood x female reader

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leslie057 · 4 months ago

Text

penbleed;

pairings: jonathan/nancy

rating: light teen (swearing + mild sex references)

word count: 2.4k (chapter 1)

read on ao3

@jancyweeks day 1: history - her diary as a personal history + a bonus history test incident

𝒩𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 16, 1984

—

𝑀𝓎 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓌. Actually, how do you forget an exam? Actually. How did I forget? And it’s not even that I forgot, it’s that I never knew. I am still so mad but not as mad as I was. Genuinely have no clue why we were not given verbal reminders for that history test. That stupid little secret of a test, that fucking sub rosa fucking social experiment of a thing to see who looks at her minuscule writing under the date on the board every day! Just tell us. Need it. Out loud. This is crazy arrogant and borderline disgusting of me to say, but she doesn't have a better student than me and I deserved better. It was like a setup. Of course I was taking notes, of course I was listening, of course a lot of it was prior knowledge. It’s the history of America and I’m not an idiot. I just thought a test would be coming up after the break, not before.

I mean it’s all been worked out now, though.

But it makes me upset, because where was my head? No, I know where it was, my head was here with me. I was simply using it for its escape function. Wild how my ears can be turned on, and my pen will be going and going and going in perfect time with the lesson, but mentally I’m reliving whatever I want to relive. Or don’t want to relive. I’ve been like this since last year. Stuck inside my skull and cannot climb out. Don’t wanna climb out because sometimes I need to be there, it’s nice in there. Sometimes not nice. I brought this up to Jonathan, he said yes he does understand. Shocker. The difference is he’s been in his head for the last sixteen years, and he doesn’t continually think all the awful things that I think. He’s good and decent and he’s sweet and he’s built a strange, adorable habitat up there for song lyrics and checklists and worries. He does so much in one day. I don’t love his work schedule. Working on Friday nights, God. Then at home he does, like, budgeting and reads their bills and shit? I wouldn’t have time to steep in hate for Mrs. Kincannon, either. (He doesn’t hate her. That’s me.) Not that he’s dealing with his trauma or whatever, our trauma, I don’t know, he isn’t. Still, because his many responsibilities burn up the majority of his mental energy, he doesn’t seem to follow the spirals I follow. At least not when the sun's out. He’s a dramatic pessimist, my dramatic pessimist, oh that was fun to write, but I would assume his internal voice has more of a filter mechanism than mine. Could be a self-preservation thing.

Who knows. But, yeah, neurogymnastics. Neurogymnastics to get me through my day. Each week is a series of extreme highs and extreme lows, lows that I just administer my fantasies to until something new happens. It’s good in the moment. Later I realize that I’ve missed things, spaced out, fell short, and I get all guilty. I feel hypocritical. I’ve fought for my life, why am I not training myself to live it well again. I’m rushing through things because they’re hard. I want to be successful, and this is not the path to success. The pressure is off me and yet all over me. Maybe I shouldn’t care about school, knowing what I know about the flimsiness of this dimension’s edges. Sounds clinically insane. Not ever going to be sure what to do with the fact that I’ve seen a parallel plane, that I was really there. I wish I didn’t care about school. I do care less about it than I did freshman and sophomore year. My grades are forever important to me, but there’s currently a big disconnect between my habits and my academic goals. When I’m at school, I fantasize about it being over. When I’ve set aside time to work, I can’t get through it and I go to my boyfriend. Maybe I am a bad student. Right now. I am. Hard to care about history since I’ve got a lot I would rather focus on. So, right, there are a lot of coercive acts I could be learning about if my teacher calmed down and gave me free time to coerce him. Sorry.

I cannot stop thinking about what I was able to

How he knew about the test is beyond me. He’s missed more days, he’s had more distractions, he’s more susceptible to distractions, and to top everything off he’s on possession watch. You know, just making those frequent check-ins with Will. I don’t know what that would look like. I guess you just ask him how he’s feeling, try to gauge the honesty. I would never ever say this but it seems likely to me that Will is still being…communicated with. Accessed. Scary sounds in his ears or something. Sensations. It’s not like he’d say anything! He’s like this meek little mouse, he could actively be experiencing organ rupture and wouldn’t make a sound. This is terrible, but being at their house does scare me every now and then. In a ticking time bomb sort of way. Is their family not kind of cursed? Then I get kissed and forget where I am anyway, so nothing matters. No complaints overall, it is a very nice place for a slumber party.

My reaction last night was the most embarrassing. How I went from zero to a hundred that fast, how we went from squeaky bed springs and my proposed hickey competition (hate that this is in writing now, but context needed—also I was in a competitive mood yesterday) (he was not) to me whining and crying and essentially hyperventilating because I didn’t understand why he would mention a test when we didn’t have a test. I hate my emotions being played with and all of that bullshit. For some reason I’ve always been on the receiving end of that haven’t I? With boys in our class. Middle school, junior high, that kind of timeframe. At one point I could have convinced myself I was being flirted with. It’s a no, because “all statements.” All pines are conifers, but not all conifers are pines. So all interested boys will tease, but not all the boys that tease are interested. They really were just that eager to let me know my body wasn’t up to par for our age bracket. Pal, are we not eleven and twelve. I cannot be Catwoman for you.

I’m told I’m pretty now, so I’ll count it as a win.

Anyway, Jonathan was not playing with my emotions, and we did have a test. We did. When my panic set in, it was bad. The pressure was building up in my chest, I thought I was in danger of dry drowning. My GPA is literally the only thing I ever feel in control of. In my arms were two options, have an absolutely miserable fucking Thursday night or risk baby’s first F on her transcript. But then he just looked at me, calm as ever, and said, “Why can’t you ask for an extension? I want you to ask her for an extension, okay?” Which I should have come up with on my own. I don’t know why, but hearing him say that was like. Insane. Made everything feel lighter, light as a feather. He doesn’t do this for himself, but for me—he zooms out, he figures out a way to make things less daunting. He can be so positive when it's a problem of mine on the table instead of his, and I'm like who are you, I love you. I usually have no problem cheating systems, swinging things in a way that's better for me, but requesting an extension? My pride lies in academics, I'm aware of that, I don’t often ask for help there. Want to accomplish things without accommodations being made for me. Meanwhile, school stuff is some of the only stuff Jonathan is willing to seek out help with. He has to. He can't afford to not get help. Not like he can spend an entire evening on one little section of an assignment when he needs to be clocked in at work for five hours. In conclusion, he talks to our instructors more than our peers. I have to respect a teacher's pet.

So, I took his advice. However tricky extensions may be. Kincannon is also tricky. Her iron will and everything. You’re not gonna get one if you always ask. You’re not gonna get one if you haven’t already established yourself as a trustworthy kid. You’re not gonna get one for being an athlete. I wasn’t convinced of the plan at first since she dress coded my mid-thigh skirt last week and had to tell me, on a few occasions, to stop chatting with/distracting my boyfriend. Him being in the picture was so in my favor, though, because he seriously might be her favorite. Personally I wanna say it’s gross; it makes her feel good about herself to cosset sensitive, troubled teens that she wouldn’t give a shit about otherwise. Like, you’re not his mommy, but I’m way off topic.

We got up incredibly early this morning. We made her a tiny consolation coffee with cream and cinnamon, pulled up at 6:25 I want to say it was? And the conversation was ace. He had messed up my hair a little to hint at a sleepless night, coached me on how to look pitiful when we were in the car. I really hope I didn’t mishear him mumble something about puppy eyes. He was very tired. I stayed as honest as possible, that’s what he wanted from me. I told her I was having a rough time, that grief keeps getting in my way of things. I talked to her about my selective hearing issue. I said I’m an oral learner, I needed verbal reminders, and I said school means so much to me. Hesitantly I pointed out that Jonathan and I are still getting used to our new relationship, and maybe if our assigned seats were adjacent I wouldn't have to get up to talk to him. She was slightly passive-aggressive, but she was understanding. Then I found out I would be testing Monday. New test, just for me. There was something so ridiculous and fun about sitting in class this morning, reading while everyone else suffered. After, I couldn’t stop apologizing to Jonathan for freaking out. He said I didn’t freak out, I reacted, and he suggested I go easier on myself. That distinction felt huge, really huge.

Right now, I'm desperate to preserve that feeling of lightness, but I’m mad at myself and furious in general. In hindsight I should have savored being comforted a little more, but I was busy having half a meltdown. I’m sure I’ll get to hear one of those soft pep talks the next time something doesn’t go my way. I have so much studying to do, especially since my Special Nancy Test is all writing. I’ve got it, though. I’m fine. Angry but also happy and fine. This will never happen again. I won’t let it happen again.

—

“Uh oh,” Jonathan suddenly murmurs to himself on her bed.

She swivels at her small desk, not fully ready to turn her attention away from her entry. “Hmm?”

“Sorry, no, you can keep writing.”

“But why uh oh?”

There's his gentle huff, his eyes flicking upward in annoyance. He holds a necklace she'd tasked him with untangling using tweezers. Its old, delicate chain was in no less than six billion knots. Somehow he’s the only one in the world who has the patience for this. She sure as hell doesn't have the patience for it. "I'm scared I'm about to break it."

“Break it? Please don’t Jonathan,” she begs on impulse.

“It’s just really far gone. I’m trying.”

And he is. He’s been sitting quietly for as long as she’s been writing. So—long time. She sort of forgot about him over there. “Sorry, I know, I know you are," she says.

He’s silent.

“You’ve been cleaning up a lot of my messes lately, huh?”

She flips over her journal, nudges it away from the table’s edge, and approaches him. From her desk she couldn’t see the glow of afternoon sunlight streaming onto her quilt. Very pretty. Her personal jewelry surgeon sits there in the middle, equally pretty, possibly feeling neglected. He’s gone the full nine yards here. Pushed up his sweater sleeves, swiped her reading glasses, set out a few safety pins and needles as his supplementary tools. He looks sleepy, the brown of his eyes lighter in the path of the sun.

Her arms are behind her back until they’re not, and she crawls on top of him. He absently places the necklace on her flattest throw pillow.

“I said you’re fixing a lot of my messes.”

“I mean…not really.” He’s blushing already, hands awkwardly grasping for purchase at her hips so that he won't get pressed back too hard into the poles of her bed frame's headboard. “If I am, I don’t mind.”

Her lips cushion against this little spot on his jaw that’s so sensitive it kills him, sucking carefully. The action might have the same effect on her that it does him; her heart jumps, swings wide, threatens to capsize in the wet of her chest. It’s that familiar adrenaline response, the uncontrollable energy spike she always gets alongside the realization of oh, we’re touching! She sighs into his skin, and he shudders, a pathetic sound of bliss escaping his throat.

“Okay, well don't start drooling,” she quips. Kisses his pulse point, spittily.

He mumbles something unintelligible, so she keeps on keeping on, shifting her weight back and forth, trying to make the most of the time they have and get some good play in while she can. She’ll have to kick him out soon. She’ll have to study in complete isolation. She dips back, and he follows, she leans forward, and he pulls her closer. “Said I need an extension,” he manages, repeating what she didn’t catch.

“What?”

“If you’re gonna do all this, I need an extension on my necklace project.”

Well, that is definitely going in the diary.

#jancy fic #jancyweek2024 #*fic #stranger things fic #jonathan x nancy #ao3 #fanfiction #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #diary #i really brought out the weirdgirl in her this is sooo incoherent

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