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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year ago

Note

Hey! I don’t know if you’re taking requests but I just had a really angsty, sad Frankie idea. Reader used to be in Delta force with the guys but something bad happened, reader dies or is really badly injured. Frankie takes her hat, Standard Heating Oil, and from then on, he wears it every single day as a tribute to his fallen team member (who he was secretly in love with. Maybe he told reader, maybe he didn’t…) Anyway, that’s my idea. Thanks!

Catfish and Shadow

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f! Reader

Word Count: 5400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This was such a good ask! It hurts in all the right ways. I’m actually going to pull a little from a real life experience that happened to my husband. If I remember, I’ll put an author’s note at the end with what happened! Huge thanks to @rhoorl for beta reading - if you haven't checked our her fics, go now!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

“Hold on, Shadow. There’s still some hair sticking out from under your hat.” Frankie turns slightly to me from his place next to me in the dark hallway, reaching up to tuck a random strand of my loose hair under my hat. His fingers linger slightly as his eyes glance down at mine, a quick, soft smile on his face, seeming like he wants to say something but changes his mind at the last minute.

“One of these days you’ll have to tell me what the Standard Heating Oil is from,” Frankie says to me, nodding up to the patch label on my hat.

“If we get out of this alive, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“It’s a deal. Please be safe, Shadow.”

“I always am. Plus, I have you watching my ass so I know I’ll be good.” His ears turn pink as he stammers. But before he can retort, Redfly, our leader, clears his throat. “Everyone ready? Shadow, your hat secure? We don’t want them knowing you’re a woman if we can help it.”

I nod, swallowing down the nerves in my stomach. “Yes, sir.”

Redfly nods at me before looking at Frankie. “Make sure to watch her six. She’s smaller than you, less noticeable, so she’ll be on the ground.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ironhead, Pope, Benny. Ready?” They all grunt their affirmatives, shifting their stance and double checking their concealed weapons were still concealed. “Alright. Let’s move.”

Quietly, we all file out from the darkened hallway, making our way to the front of the clay hut where we had changed into our undercover civilian clothes. The mission was to make it to a building several blocks away and gain access, taking out the mercenaries inside. So far, they have no idea we’re here. Waiting a minute or 2 between people, I leave the hut, taking a left turn towards the center of the town, feeling Frankie’s eyes on me from the rooftops, where he had assumed his position several minutes earlier.

“Duck your head to the right when you round this corner. There’s a group of men,” His voice rasps in my ear over the speaker. I’ll never get over how sexy his voice sounds in this thing, and maybe one day I’ll have the guts to actually tell him. I do as he says, shifting my head more right as I round the corner, pretending to look at some wares a shopkeeper had set up. Luckily the men took zero notice of me, laughing loudly at some joke, their guns slung over their shoulders swaying with their laughter.

“Lookin’ good, Shadow. Just normal civiies all the way to the rendezvous.” I nod slightly, following my orders to say nothing as my voice would give me away not only as a female, but an American as well. I make it to the rendezvous and lean against a wall, looking like I was bored waiting for someone but really I was watching the building front several feet away. A few men file out, but the door closes behind them solidly. I watch the building for several more minutes, hearing the rest of my squad all make it to their positions.

“Advance.” Redfly’s voice speaks in my ear and I push off from the wall, nonchalantly heading towards the front door. No one even looks at me aside from Frankie, who’s eyes I feel boring into me. Taking a deep breath, I make it to the front door, raise my fist, and knock twice, then once, then 3 more times in rapid succession, repeating the pattern the other men had used before entering. The door opens and a man stands there, his eyes meeting mine and briefly showing his non-recognition before the smoke bomb I had concealed in my hand clanks to the floor behind him.

Smoke billows out quickly from the bomb and I duck to the side of the building, hearing Benny, Ironhead, and Pope advance, their gunfire quietly echoing inside the thick clay building. I meet Redfly around the back and he slides me a gun, both of us covering the back exit, taking out a few men who tried to escape instead of holding down the building. One man we miss, but Frankie’s silent but deadly shot rings out from above, the man crumpling to ground, his body silent and unmoving, eyes open but the person gone.

We hear the team move through the rest of the small, 3-storied house, clearing out the floors, Redfly taking out another 2 that tried to escape through the front door where he had moved to a few minutes earlier. No one else tries to come out the back door and then we hear Benny call through the mic. “Clear.” Redfly and I move inside, me following behind him in through the front, meeting the rest of the ground team inside. I stand near the front door, watching the boys as I wait for Redfly to tell Frankie to meet up with us. I’ll feel better once he’s here.

“Frankie, make your way here,” Redfly commands in his mic, Frankie confirming before going quiet again.

“Did you locate the stash?” Redfly addresses the ground team. Benny shakes his head.

“There’s a large trunk upstairs that we need to inspect.”

Redlfy nods. “Anything else?”

Suddenly, a large, unfamiliar arm wraps around me, pulling me tight to someone’s chest, a gun barrel shoved into my temple, rapid words in a language I barely understand being spewed out over my head. My hands wrap around his arm but I can’t force it, the gun barrel pushing in further to my head. I don’t need to understand the language to know he’s telling me to not move. I freeze, the men in front of me desperately trying to negotiate my release, Ironhead rapidly spitting back words in the language I’m kicking myself for not picking up quicker. But then I hear a voice that instantly warms me, tells me everything will be ok and I swear if I make it out of here, I’m telling him exactly how I feel.

“Let her go and put down the gun.” Frankie’s voice is low and demanding, sending a shudder up my spine but not for the same reason as the man behind me, desperately clutching me to his chest. Ironhead repeats Frankie’s words back to him in his language, a quick conversation happening between them. I feel the man’s grip start to loosen, but then a quiet pop sounds, Frankie’s yell ripping through the room as another shot follows, the man that had been holding me falling to the side, a bullet ripping through his neck as he clutches at it, the last few moments of his life spewing from him before he slumps and doesn’t move. It’s not until he hits the ground that I start to feel lightheaded.

“Shadow? Shadow, talk to me!” Frankie is there, dropping himself to the floor as he holds me in his lap, his hand moving to lift up my shirt. Pain rips through me and I grunt, his quiet shushing holding me here as he lifts the edge of my shirt up. He schools his face and that’s when I know it’s bad.

“You didn’t have to wait for me to get shot to take off my shirt, you know.” I can feel the pain sinking in now, the bullet lodged somewhere in my abdomen, slowly signing my death warrant.

Frankie chuckles, swallowing hard to fight back tears. “Is that so?” I can hear Redfly yelling into his mic demanding a medic chopper to our location, the rest of the boys close but giving Frankie and I a little space.

I nod, coughing a little and whimpering at the pain that is caused by the soft movement. “You only had to ask.”

He smiles, tears he can’t stop welling up in the corners of his eyes. “Well that’s good to know. When you get patched up, I’ll take you up on that.”

I smile as best I can, my head feeling like it’s harder and harder to stay here. I blink and Frankie squeezes me lightly. “Hey, stay with me querida. Medic is almost here.”

I swallow hard, now feeling the pool of blood that’s collecting on the floor as it sinks into my pant leg. “Frankie, I don’t-”

“Sshh. Don’t say anything. You’re going to make it. You just have to hold on.”

But already there’s black at the edge of my vision, quickly beckoning me to unconsciousness, my head feeling more and more heavy as I lose more blood. I feel my eyes start to flutter closed as Frankie calls my name, the sound of a chopper getting louder and I’m trying to focus on his voice, his beautiful voice, but then I can’t, sleep taking me over as Frankie yells my real name…

“No! No, you have to stay with me!” Frankie yells, slightly shaking her body which had become more limp as her eyes flutter closed. Medics push in and at first Frankie tries to hold on to her tight, but then Pope and Benny are pulling him from her, letting the medics move in and try to stabilize her.

His Shadow. The love of his life. Why had he never told her?

Quick, rushed movements over her body, rapid words exchanged between the few medics before they place her on a stretcher, quickly moving her to the chopper waiting just beyond the buildings outside. Frankie moves to follow her, but Redfly grabs his arm.

“We need to finish the mission, Cat.”

Frankie’s eyes flash with anger. “What the fuck, Redlfy? Shadow is dying on that chopper. I’m going with her!”

“No you aren’t. That’s an order.”

“Then court marshal me.” But it’s already too late. Frankie hears the chopper ascend, carrying the person he loves most in this world away from him as she bleeds out, alone. Well not alone, but not with him.

Frankie screams, dropping to his knees as pushes his face into his hands, tugging on his hair. They let him have this moment, all of them feeling the loss of her, like a gaping hole that they have to patch up quickly that won’t feel the same. A minute goes by before Benny moves forward, dropping to a knee next to Frankie and putting his hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze.

“Hey man. I’m sure she’ll be ok.”

Frankie’s tear stained face looks up at him. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I do know we have to finish this mission so we can all get back safe and find her. She wouldn’t want to lose all of us because we didn’t move in time.”

The anger in Frankie’s eyes simmers at Benny’s words. He’s right. He may hate it but he’s right. Frankie nods, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. He moves to stand up but then he sees it on the floor, Shadow’s hat, the Standard Heating Oil logo dusty from being on the dirt floor. Frankie picks it up and dusts it off, quickly adjusting it to his size before snugly placing it on his head. Everyone nods at him, accepting this way to honor their injured teammate.

The mission is a success and they all get lifted back to base. It had been a few days since Shadow was airlifted back to medics and Frankie was itching to see if she was ok. He was determined to tell her how he feels the moment his eyes find hers. He makes his way to the medical building as soon as his boots hit the floor, Benny following behind him as the rest of the team goes to debrief. Frankie pushes open the front door and stops at the little receptionist desk, the woman behind it squinting at the screen as she slaps the side of the monitor.

“I swear they need to get us a flat panel or something. This thing is ancient.” She looks up at Frankie, a smile on her face. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a soldier who would’ve come in 3 days ago, gunshot wound to the abdomen.” She nods as he gives her her name, the receptionist’s fingers clinking away at the keyboard. She squints at the screen again, another slap to the side of the monitor.

“Yes I see her here…gunshot wound…and you are her...?”

“Teammate. We both are,” Frankie says as Benny nods over his shoulder.

Her eyes move back to the screen as she reads some more, her lips moving with the words as she reads them. Then she stops, taking off her glasses and setting them to the side. She takes a breath and Frankie’s stomach falls out.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but she passed.”

“Passed? What do you mean passed?” Frankie asks, the lady looking from him to Benny behind him, who had silent tears streaming down his cheeks already.

“Fish-” Benny puts his hand on his shoulder but Frankie shrugs it off.

“No, don’t! What does she mean? Tell me!” He’s yelling now, Benny trying to pull him away from the receptionist, apologizing to her. She smiles sadly, a knowing look on her face.

Frankie turns to Benny, gripping his sleeves as Benny tries to pull him into his chest. “No Ben, what..she..she can’t, I never told her-” and then he crumbles into Benny’s chest, face buried in his shoulder as he wails, a hole in his gut getting larger and larger as his grief consumes him. Benny holds him tight, his own tears at the loss of his friend that was like a sister to him, trickling down his cheeks as he listens to his best friend wail into the quiet hall.

24 hours later they’re called out for another mission, Frankie pulling her hat on tight, the way he can carry her with him as he swallows down the grief that consumes him whenever he isn’t on a mission. He pours himself into his work, protecting his friends and doing what his country asks of him.

I blink awake, the lights in whatever room I’m in are dimmed, giving the room a slight yellow-white glow. I shift and wince, the bullet would in my abdomen screaming at me to be still. I place my hand over it and feel a large bandage. It’s then I realize that I’m in a hospital gown and in a hospital bed, definitely not the med bay back at base. A nurse walks into the room and smiles at me.

“Oh you’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Like I was shot in the stomach,” I croak out as she hands me a cup of water, a straw sticking out of the top.

“Small sips. Yeah I would imagine it doesn’t feel great. Would you like something more for the pain?”

I take a small sip and cough, managing to swallow a little of it. “I don’t know, honestly. How long have I been out?”

She glances at my chart. “Several days.”

“Where am I?”

She names off a hospital and seems to see that I have no idea what she’s talking about. “It’s an American run hospital here.”

“So, I’m not on base then?”

She shakes her head. “No. They moved you here because of the severity of your wounds. Let me grab the doctor.” She leaves the room and returns 20 minutes later with a man in a white coat. He takes my chart from her and scans it, nodding.

“How are we feeling?”

“Like we were shot in the stomach.”

He chuckles at my recycled joke. “Yeah I imagine so. If you need anything stronger let us know.”

I nod. “The nurse mentioned I’m not on base?”

He shakes his head. “Your injuries were too extensive to be treated on base so they brought you here immediately. We had to do surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage it caused. You’ll feel it for a while but there shouldn’t be any long term damage, aside from a scar.”

I nod. “Thank you, doctor.” He nods and leaves the room, the nurse coming back over to me.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Uh yeah, actually. Do you have clearance? To ask about another soldier?”

She nods. “I do.” She takes a paper and pen from her scrub pocket. “Write down their names and I’ll see what I can find out.”

I write down the names of my team mates, my heart tightening when I write Frankie’s name, him screaming my name with wide eyes the last thing I remember before blacking out. I hate that I put him through the ringer. It’s not my fault I know, but at least I made it and now I can tell him how I feel. I think he may feel the same for me?

The nurse leaves with my thanks and I’m left to flip through channels on the older tv that’s sitting on a hanging shelf in the upper corner of the room. There’s nothing on but I mindlessly flip through them, nervously waiting for the nurse to return. She comes back a few hours later, bringing with her my medication.

“I’m sorry it took me a minute. There’s a lot of Miller’s to sift through.”

I smile. “Yeah. Common name.” She hands me a cup with pills in it, telling me it’s my pain meds and other post surgery ones. But it’s the way she’s not quite meeting my eyes that puts me on alert. I take the meds as requested, handing her back the small paper cup.

“Just me tell me. Please.”

The nurse sighs and hesitates a brief moment before taking my hand, gently swiping her tumb across the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry dear. But none of them made it. Looks like a classified mission. ”

I pause. “What?”

“N-none of them made it.”

“Did you tell them Delta Force? Sometimes we’re in a different section.”

She nods. “Yes, ma’am. It’s…confirmed.” She squeezes my hand but I can’t register anything else she says over the high pitched ringing in my ears. Gone? That can’t be right. They were all very much alive when I…no no no! They can’t be…Frankie can’t be….The wail that rips from my throat sounds inhuman, grief spewing from my body as I scream, the nurse trying to calm me, the stitches on my stomach bursting with pain as my stomach contracts and I throw up, continuing to scream as other nurses come into the room, one of them pushing a needle into my arm and I slowly pass out, the last thought I have is of Frankie and his big, brown eyes and how I’ll never see them again.

There was no funeral. Or rather it had been finished before I could leave the hospital. I couldn’t bring myself to fly out to their graves, to see their names etched in stone. Instead, I stayed at my parent’s house, grief and depression consuming me for years. Eventually I crawled out, poking my head above the surface and taking a small breath in the form of painting. I was pretty good at it too. I sold several pieces and some rich guy commissioned me to do paintings for every room in his house. Once that was completed, several of his friends reached out and before I knew it, I had quite a little business going.

It felt good, to do something with my hands besides peeling back the skin at the corners of my nails. The hole the boys left was still very much there and I suspect it will never quite go away. But the wound Frankie’s death left behind still hurts almost as much as it did when I first found out he died about 7 years ago. Once I started painting, my parents tried to set me up on dates, but nothing ever took. I don’t want any of them. The other half of me is buried in the earth and I’ve been coming to terms with that. Which will probably take the rest of my life and the next.

My phone bings and I set down my brush, swallowing hard as I look at the shade of brown paint, nearly an exact match for Frankie’s eyes. A quick glance and it’s a text from my mom.

Mom: You’re still coming this weekend?

Yes mom. I promised I’d house sit for you after the party.

Mom: Are you sure? It’s such a long way

Mom, it’s your 30th anniversary. I’m not missing that.

Mom: Well, if you’re sure. Don’t forget to pack that lovely dress I bought you.

Of course. Just promise not to set me up with anyone

Mom: See you Friday!

I don’t like the way she avoided that last one, but I can easily get rid of them. Once they get a glimpse of my PTSD, they run.

Friday rolls around and I step off the plane, pulling my backpack up higher on my shoulder, spotting my dad through the crowd of people waiting just beyond TSA. He smiles wide and pulls me to him in a tight hug.

“Your mom wanted to come but there was some last minute emergency with the cake.”

“Sounds serious.”

He chuckles and I smile. I had missed my parents.

“Wanna grab a drink before we head home?”

“Shit, she set me up didn’t she?”

He laughs loudly this time. “She’s pretty obvious, huh? She’s just worried about you, kid. But-” he puts his hands in the air as I open my mouth to protest “-I told her you wouldn’t be interested and to leave you alone. As far as I know, she understands. Or at least she pretends to.”

A quick drink at an unfamiliar bar and then I’m walking back into my childhood home, nearly the same as it was from my childhood, just newer electronics. My mom comes into the room, her phone clutched to her ear as she listens to someone rattle off on the other end.

“Well I don’t care how it’s done but do it! The party is tomorrow!” She hangs up and sighs before giving me a tight hug.

“Everything ok, mom?”

“Oh yeah. Just people not wanting to do their jobs. But it’s fine! You’re here!”

The party passes in a blur, one guy coming to talk to me briefly before my dad whisks him away, giving me a wink as he does so. The party was beautiful and romantic, my parent’s love on full display. They leave right after the party, jetting off to Europe for 2 weeks, the honeymoon they never got to have. And as the only child without my own children, I get the honor of house-sitting, which isn’t too bad. It’s nice to get away from the city and all the bustle it brings.

Sunday morning I wake when I want, stretching before I head downstairs for some coffee, scratching absentmindedly at the scar on my stomach as I slide my hand under my Fleetwood Mac shirt. No, not mine. His. I had swiped it from him before our mission, a practical joke for when we returned from our mission and he saw it was missing. I slept with it for months after his death, eventually putting it in a ziploc bag when I noticed the smell fading and only brought it out on his birthday and when life got a little too hard. With all the love celebrating last night, my heart hurt and hung heavy, old tears falling new on my cheeks as I excused myself to cry in the bathroom for a bit, missing my what could have been. So I figured I needed the shirt. Sighing, I take a sip of my coffee, staring out of the back window at my mother’s garden, trying to take in it’s beauty and not fall too far into my own grief.

“You’re really going out there?” Benny asks Frankie, watching him toss clothes into a backpack.

“Yeah. We never went out there when we got back and I think it’s time. I just feel it.”

Benny nods. “I get it man, but what are you gonna say to her parents? ‘Sorry I never came to the funeral?’”

Frankie gives his friend a look as he zips up his backpack. “I don’t know, Ben. I just…after all these years, and the shit I’ve been through, I…I need to see her.”

Benny gives his friend a small smile. “Tell Shadow we’ll make it an annual thing and all come out to see her next year. Put an extra flower down for me?”

“I’ll make sure she knows one of them is from you.”

Benny takes his friend to the airport, pulling him into a bear hug before he boarded. The flight was uneventful, Frankie constantly checking the note in his phone with her parent’s address on it. He’d had it all these years, but never could bring himself to visit, to tell them her death was his fault, that he should’ve shot sooner or just taken the guy out. But he couldn’t tell them that, classified, and then he poured himself into his work, earning himself a sleeping disorder, a drug addiction, and a strong case of PTSD. He’d come out the other side of the addiction with the help of his friends, but the sleeping issues and PTSD remained. He supposed they always would, watching her face as the life drains from her, the love of his life.

He gets out of the rental car, taking a deep breath as he walks up the drive to the front door. It’s a nice house on a quiet street and for a moment, he listens to the sounds of the neighborhood, picturing what it must have been like for her to have grown up here, run up and down these same front steps. Tears well in his eyes and he tries to swallow them back as he knocks, afraid that if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll back out and run away, not able to at least look her parents in the eye.

But when the door opens, it’s not her mom or dad or any of her siblings. Frankie’s breath catches in his throat, his heart beating so rapidly he’d swear it was beating out of his chest, his brain trying to process what he’s seeing.

“Frankie?”

I’m halfway through my cup of coffee when someone knocks at the door. I think my mom said some packages were being delivered but I don’t want them to sit on the porch. I set my mug down and walk to the front door, unlocking it and opening it to look into deep brown eyes. Eyes I thought I would never see again. My heart leaps from my chest, my stomach twisting, my brain rapidly trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Have I finally lost it? Gone mad with grief? But then a slight breeze picks up and his hair moves and I snap out of it just enough.

“Frankie?” I think I say it, my brain still not sure if I’m hallucinating.

“Sh-Shadow?” His fingers reach towards me, barely ghosting across my cheek, but..they’re real. I can feel him touching me. He’s real and alive and I’m so confused but it can’t be my brain tricking me, right?

Suddenly he reaches out, yanking me to his chest and burying his nose in my hair, my arms winding around him and gripping him tight, inhaling him as my face presses to his chest. Tears flow freely as I grab at him, feeling him solidly under my grasp.

“I thought you were dead,” he cries into me, his tears making my hair damp.

“I thought you were dead!”

He pulls away a small bit and takes my face in his hands, his eyes looking between mine. “This is real, right? You’re really…real?”

I nod. “I am. Are you?”

“I am. I…I love you!” And then his lips are pressed to mine, soft and slightly chapped, one of his hands sliding around to the back of my head, the other settling on my hip. I kiss him back, pouring a decades worth of love and grief into that kiss for several moments before a sob erupts from my throat and I break the kiss, heaving as I cling to his shirt.

“I-I-I’m s-s-s-sorry! I-I-I l-l-love y-you t-t-too!” My sobs break up my speech and I feel ridiculous, but Frankie laughs and I start to cry all over again. I’d forgotten his laugh and how warm it makes me feel and I would do anything to hear that sound for the rest of my life.

“I am barely holding it together, querida. I-wait. Is that my Fleetwood Mac shirt?”

My sobs turn into a seal bark of a laugh, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling his fingers on my hip still.

“Yeah. Ha-ha I got you!”

He chuckles as he kisses me again, fingers digging deeper into my hip as he walks me back into the house, kicking the door closed behind him.

Instead of talking, we spend the next several hours in bed, Frankie pressing himself between my legs, sliding into me as if we were made for each other, years of longing and grief poured into every meet of our hips. Once we get out of a lengthy shower, Frankie lays on my childhood bed and beckons me to him, pulling me down to him as I cuddle into his side, my hand on his chest and leg over his, his fingers tracing the end of the scar that derailed my life. Our lives.

“You’ve been alive all this time?” I ask, turning my head up to look at him.

He nods sadly. “Yeah.”

“All of you?”

“Yeah, why?”

I cry again, guilty that I didn’t confirm this before he pressed me into my bed but I was so overwhelmed I didn’t even think about it. He holds me and gives me time to cry, speaking words of comfort in my ear.

“I asked the nurse to look you all up and she said you had died. That…that all of you had…had…”

“What? No, we came back from the mission a few days…after. Then we had to ship out a day later on a new one. I asked the receptionist at the med building and she said you had died.”

Anger surges through me at the years we lost over incorrect records. “Ok, who do I have to fuck up for this? Because this was bullshit. I…I don’t have words, Frankie, I-”

“I know, querida. It was either wrong records or they looked at the wrong name. And I may seem calm, but inside I’m seething. I just…I’ll deal with that later. For now, I just want to hold you and celebrate the fact that you’re alive and…wait. Did you say you love me too?”

“Francisco Morales, you have touched my body in nearly every way possible and you’re questioning my love?”

“Well I’m still not entirely sure you’re real.”

I shift, leaning up to press my lips to his. “I guess we have all the time in the world to find out.”

2 months later, we get married in my parent’s backyard, all of the Delta Force boys there to cheer us on.

Author’s Note: My husband is a veteran who served around the time of 9/11. He was injured overseas and left the army. His friends/team mates all signed back up. When he was able, he asked about his friends in order to stay in contact and was told they had all died, killed in action overseas.

Flash forward nearly 2 decades later, he makes a comment in a Facebook page for memes and gets a comment back with his nickname from back in the day. One of his friends had actually been alive this entire time and that friend had been told that my husband had died.

Facebook may be a lot of shit, but will always have a spot in my heart for it for bringing back my husband’s friend from the dead. I will never forget the look on his face when he came out to tell me!

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caspersickfanfics · 5 months ago

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Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, amnesia, mentions of other symptoms including headaches/brain fog/passing out, mentions of blood, speculated poisoning, trauma response

A/N: Yeah so... this is none of the WIPs I've been working on for months, actually, but I just Needed to get something done this weekend, so. Here we are. I have Ideas for a part 2 for this and if you read closely you might be able to pick up on some intentional loose ends but also I'd feel irresponsible adding to my WIP list at this point. We'll see. Anyway, this is for @monthofsick day 21: Sleepy Sickie

It’s the dead of night, amidst a humid summer heat, when Cyno shows up at Tighnari’s doorstep, feverish and ill. He’s trembling all over, downtrodden, and exhausted. His hair is sweat damp, his face marred by tear tracks, just barely visible in the lamplight.

Tighnari guides him inside. He has Cyno sit, and then wordlessly checks that his body is in one piece. For the most part, yes, it is, but he makes quick work bandaging a dozen or so surface level wounds. By the time he’s done, the matra has dozed off, slumped back against the chair with his head lolling on his chest. Tighnari wants him to rest, but worries about his fever and gently wakes him to gather more information.

“Hey,” Tighnari says quietly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Tighnari?”

“Mhm.”

There’s a flash of panic across his face, and Cyno’s muscles tighten. Responding immediately, Tighnari places a firm hand on his chest, and while Cyno stops struggling to stand, the tension doesn’t fade, his eyes searching Tighnari’s face. Tighnari feels his brow furrow when Cyno asks, “Where are we?”

“We’re at home,” he states. His voice is masked with a carefully curated calm. He can feel Cyno’s heart rushing far too quickly under his hand. “We’re safe.”

Cyno looks completely lost, but after checking and double checking his surroundings - as if he doesn’t believe his eyes - slowly relaxes. He still looks off-kilter.

Tighnari’s unease heightens. “You don’t remember why you came here?”

The matra’s face scrunches up, confused and distressed. “I don’t even remember coming here,” he mumbles. He hardly sounds like himself, voice even lower than usual, words slightly slurred. A shiver runs through him.

“It’s alright,” Tighnari reassures. “Let’s not worry about that. If I give you a list of possible symptoms, can you let me know which ones you’re experiencing, or if I'm missing any?”

Cyno agrees with a nod, and proceeds to respond to the rest of Tighnari’s questioning in a similar fashion. Headache, muscle pain, stomach ache, nausea, hot flashes, shivering, weakness, lightheadedness, fatigue, brain fog… Tighnari clocks the silent but affirmative responses to each item on the list with a growing sense of dread.

“You don’t remember if you ate anything suspicious recently, do you?”

“Don’t know.” It’s clear he’s running out of energy. When his head dips forward, Tighnari cups Cyno’s cheek in his hand. “Wanna sleep, Nari.”

Again, Tighnari wants to let him sleep, but Cyno’s needs take priority. “Not yet. Stay awake for me, love - can you do that?”

Cyno sniffles sadly, but his eyes remain open, if glazed. They’re certainly bloodshot.

Tighnari cleans him up. He hopes to help ground him. Sometimes Cyno needs time to settle in a given location, and things like a warm bath can help.

It doesn’t seem to make much of a difference this time, but at least he’s no longer covered in mud and blood and… well, the sweat reappears quickly enough. Cyno all but falls into the bed, sending his partner a look of utter betrayal when Tighnari guides him to sit rather than lying down right away. He smiles in apology and squeezes Cyno’s hand. “Just a bit longer, hm? You’re doing so well.”

When Tighnari offers him water, though, any color left in Cyno’s face drains in an instant, and the next, he’s pitching forward with a retch.

“Oh–” Tighnari quickly steps back, sets the glass on a table, and helps Cyno over the edge of the bed. Nothing comes up, and it’s just strands of saliva dripping to the ground, but he heaves again and again. There’s a strangled noise, like he’s trying to speak. Tighnari tries to quiet him.

“Shhh, Cyno. Settle. It’s okay.”

“I— hurrrrgh!” His body is relentless, abdomen clenching in a cruel attempt to expel something that simply isn’t there. He groans.

“I can’t,” Cyno grates out. It hurts him to do, and he’s thrown into a violent coughing fit that devolves into more heaving and more pain. He’s shaking horribly.

“It’s okay,” Tighnari repeats. He'd do just about anything to make this stop, and yet, the only thing to do is wait it out. “Oh, Cyno… just breathe.”

When he finally regains control of himself, Cyno is gutted in a way that he can’t put words to. Instead, he takes a deep breath, and releases a single sob. Tears stream down his face - and he doesn’t understand why. Tighnari is alarmed, checking him again for injury, asking about whether he’s hurt himself internally. He shakes his head and pushes Tighnari's hands away, because there's nothing they can do to fix this.

“Need to sleep,” he moans, and it’s desperate. His stomach is going to start revolting again if he stays awake much longer, or maybe he’ll simply pass out. And he craves sleep. So, so badly. After a moment, Tighnari nods.

“That's alright, love. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

–––

Send asks here!

#tw vomit #tw emeto #tw poison #my writing #tw trauma #tw fever #tw blood #tw fainting mention #tw trauma response #tw amnesia #sick cyno #genshin impact emeto #genshin sickfic #cyno genshin impact #tighnari genshin impact #my writing: genshin #novemetober rescheduled #this is so short but i'm intrigued by it??#it felt... different to write than my other fics idk how or why tho

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kaidenya · 3 years ago

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Getting Caught ✧ MHA

Description: Headcanons for getting caught in a intimate moment with Hitoshi Shinso, Tenya Iida, Mirio Togata, & Tomura Shigaraki

WARNING: NSFW, suggestive content NOTE: This is a repost of an old SHITPOST headcanon I had on my previous account so if this looks familiar I hope you enjoy it the second time around!

“Nobody will know...”

Shinso

Shinso would go to his grave claiming that you were to blame for this situation

But in all honesty, he had been allowing things to build for far too long

You two weren’t necessarily a secret, but most people just assumed you were bEsT fRiEnDs 🥴

It was an honest misunderstanding

You had decided to keep physical contact to a minimum after an unfortunate attempt at holding his hand left you believing he didn’t enjoy any forms of PDA.

Shinso had just assumed the same about you.

However, as the two of you grew more serious, you found it more difficult to keep your hands to yourself

It just so happened your boyfriend had been working extremely hard in the hero course and it s h o w e d

You had found yourself admiring his changing physique and in turn, found you weren’t the only one admiring your boyfriend.

You weren’t necessarily jealous— you trusted him more than anything, but he tended to be socially constipated

And nobody seemed to know about you. Thus giving the other interested parties an unintentional greenlight to flirt with him. And there was one girl that had stood out among the sea of suitors.

Each time you saw the second-year girl perch next to Shinso it made your skin crawl, but no lines had been crossed.

Until they were.

Your knuckles were gripping the strap of your bag so tightly it ached when you made your way to where your boyfriend was perched outside

The second-year didn’t even acknowledge you as she continued her flirtatious ways and you don’t resist the urge to roll your eyes as you settle into the place next to him.

He had flashes you a lazy smile before focusing back on his phone screen.

Then her hand landed on his upper thigh

Let me tell you: sleepy boy was shocked when she touched him, but he was EVEN MORE SHOCKED when you took her by the wrist and tossed her hand to the side

You waste no time threading your fingers with his, rising to your feet and all but hauling him from his seat

His amusement only grew as he realized just how jealous you had gotten, a smirk forming over his lips as he set to teasing you

‘What’s the matter, kitty? You don’t like anyone touching daddy?’

NO, YOU DO NOT

You have no idea how you ended up on your knees in a supply closet??

Shinso is feeling very sure of himself above you, using the hand that was gripping the back of your neck as leverage to hold you down on his length

k i n g of dirty talk 🤭

Absolutely cannot help himself when it comes to telling you how pretty you look choking on his cock

Honestly doesn’t last long, but what do you expect? Seeing your jealous and possessive response to the girl he had given little to no acknowledgment had lit a fire in his chest

He was desperate to get his hands on you, to remind you that he was just as much yours as you were his.

And when he does— oh MAN he makes you forget all about the second-year girl

He has one of your legs draped over his shoulder as he goes down on you, licking and sucking at you in a way that had you trembling

You accidentally knock over a pile of brooms and mops, neither of you paying them any mind as your head lulled in bliss

If only you had remembered to flick the lock on the door…

Kirishima really thought someone was banging on the door for help. It wouldn’t have been manly— or heroic not to make sure someone wasn’t in trouble

Besides, why else would someone be making so much noise in a supply closet if they weren’t stuck??

So when the door swung open and he locked eyes with you, still panting and moaning as an all too familiar head of purple hair buried further into your heat—

He let out the loudest shout he could muster. Apologies poured from his mouth as he fumbled to shut the door

However, your boyfriend made no move to let you go. Instead, he hummed against your skin, only leaning back to nip at your inner thigh before speaking in a heavy voice

‘Better make this fast, kitty.’

Iida

So you’ve tried to keep your relationship on the down-low bc Iida doesn’t want anyone to think he’s distracted

We all know he just doesn’t wanna be called out for his obvious favoritism

Before you got together you were constantly pushing him, breaking minuscule rules in favor of gaining his attention. Nothing too immoral, but enough to get under his skin.

Like slipping into class just seconds after the bell had rung, nearly avoiding Aizawa’s attention, but never making it past Iida.

Or when a class had gotten a bit too stressful, the room filling with hot air as tensions rose and you had to pop open a few buttons of your uniform top

Then there was your favorite offense; desk sitting. If there was one sure way to get a reaction from your stickler of a boyfriend it was to place yourself on top of a desk.

Which is what you found yourself doing at the end of an unfavorable week. The two of you hadn’t gotten a moment together outside of your studies and you were growing needy.

So with a few moments of free time before class began, you decided to chat with Tsu and Uraraka, settling atop the desk between them when you had grown tired of standing

The desk belonging to none other than Tenya

Your ankles were crossed as you leaned forward to speak with Tsuyu and he was beyond s h o o k

Immediate hand chopping.

He’s towering over you, ranting about how your behavior was improper while keeping his hands clenched in an attempt to keep from running his fingertips along your thighs.

When was the last time you were this close to him? It had to have been longer than he realized for him to have such a strong reaction— are you biting your lip??

Any response between you died off as Aizawa addressed the class and you were sent back to your seat, leaving Iida far more frazzled than you realized

The moment class ends he has you tucked under an empty stairwell to continue his lecture

Only he doesn’t get very far

Tenya Iida has an authority kink. I take no criticism.

When you look up at him from under your lashes, muttering the words ‘yes sir’ as he chastised you, his resolve was shattered

Has you pressed against the wall immediately, fisting your blazer as he dips to press his forehead to yours

‘Why must you push me?’

Doesn’t even let you answer before his mouth is covering yours, hips arching to grind his obvious arousal against you

Knowing he had been just as affected by your as you had him was enough to spur a moan past your lips and he takes the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth

Although he was MORTIFIED at the impropriety of it all, he couldn’t resist the sweet noises you made as he expertly worked against you

His hand eventually slides between you, pushing past the waistband of your bottoms and grinding his palm against you teasingly

‘Now, who do you belong to, darling?’

You you youyouyou—

Your hand was rubbing along Iida’s hard cock, his length straining against his pants to the point you’re almost worried they’ll rip

Somehow the two of you had been so lost in one another that you hadn’t heard the door open at the top of the stairwell

Denki and Mineta honestly weren’t creeping this time— they just wanted a snack from the vending machine adjacent to you!

Got a whole ass meal instead 👁👄👁

A moan tore from your throat, quickly being smothered by Tenya’s parted lips as you came on his fingers

You had barely made out the echoing sound of objects clattering to the ground through the ringing in your ears

But your boyfriend had heard

His lips separated from you in an instant, shocked gaze shifting into something closer to anger as he recognized your classmates

Denki began stammering out an apology, looking close to short-circuiting as his attention flickered between you

Mineta had let his gaze linger on you for too long. His eyes taking in the way your exposed chest— Tenya must have pulled the buttons loose

You cringe away from his gaze, post-orgasm haze™ spurring you to tuck yourself closer to Tenya to avoid their stares rather than snap at them

It was your obvious discomfort that had kicked Iida into gear, twisting to thread your button your blouse together before rounding on the others

If embarrassment wasn’t enough, the thought of them having seen you in such a vulnerable position had him seething as he began his lecture

Attempts hand chopping them into submission, but they kept disregarding his words in favor of catching another glimpse of you in a fucked out state

All fondness for his classmates had vanished as he stepped into their line of sight, shielding you from their gazes. His eyes almost daring them to continue

Whatever words lingering on their tongues died off, heads bowing in shame as they agreed to keep the entire situation to themselves

After all, the potential wrath of Tenya Iida was not something to be taken lightly.

Mirio

Mirio’s love language is touch, without a doubt, so it’s honestly surprising when he’s NOT trying to get handsy with you

He’s always defended his obvious displays of affection by claiming he had so little free time— he’d be a fool to waste the opportunity to touch you!

Mirio jumped at the opportunity to feel you against him. Whether it was a heavy kiss to your lips after walking you to class, a hand slipping under your shirt to caress your back, or his fingers trailing teasingly along your thigh.

However, as much as he was attentive, he was also forgetful.

It was because of that forgetfulness that you found yourself alone in your dorm. Countless boxes of takeout were lined up on your desk and a pre-planned movie was ready to play on your small tv.

After a few hours and countless delivered messages, you succumbed to disappointment.

The following day Mirio can’t seem to figure out why you’re avoiding him, but he refuses to give up without a fight.

Definitely thinks it’s a game of some sort and takes it upon himself to break your silent streak

It wasn’t easy being upset with Mirio. He had an uncanny ability to brighten any room he stepped into and being irrevocably in love with him only strengthened his effect

He’s always hard for you and loves letting you know just how you affect him— so why not place a hand on your hand, pressing firmly against your back when he slips past?

You always look so stunning— why not feed you compliments at every given moment?

How could he not look at you with the most iNTENSE GAZE undressing you with his eyes in front of everyone?

It’s when he realizes that you aren’t reacting to his teasing and flirtatious behaviorist that he caves.

He finds you between classes, stirring you away from the crowd, despite your wordless protests. It isn’t until you’re tucked away in an abandoned hall that he finally asks what was wrong

You had fully intended on dragging it out, allowing anger to push you on. But he spoke to you in the softest voice, looked at you with eyes filled with so much devotion that it was nearly overwhelming

He is shocked when you shove him away— were you tearing up??

Actually gets super defensive because he doesn’t realize HES the one that made you upset

Once you finally cave and remind him about the date he had missed it hits him like a freight train.

The two of you so rarely got time together and he had stood you up.

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been so busy lately— I didn’t realize I was neglecting you.’

Does not waste time making it up to you. He cups your face in his hands as he starts placing soft kisses on your face, cooing softly as tears roll down your cheeks

Did somebody say praise kink?

How can you stay mad at him when he’s telling you how sorry he is and that he loves you and you’re the only one his dick will get hard for??

It isn’t long before he’s pinned you between him and the wall, hitching your legs around his waist while coaxing you into a heavy kiss

His hips flex to grind against you, his hot length slotting between your thighs as he digs his fingertips into the curve of your ass

Mirio does not care that somebody could see— his quirk leaves him naked all the time and he’s shameless 🥵

But again he’s so forgetful—

And he was meant to go straight to class 1A to talk with them alongside the other members of The Big Three

So when he didn’t show up Aizawa had sent Tamaki and Midoriya in search of their future number one hero

How were you supposed to know they would turn the corner just as you arched from the wall?

Mirio had no idea anyone was there as he used the hand that was wrapped around your throat as leverage to grind you over the edge—

bOY were you embarrassed when you heard the two boys audibly g a s p

Midoriya’s embarrassment nearly gave Tamaki a run for his money. You were quick to turn away, immediately hiding your face in his chest as he greeted the duo in an overly cheerful voice

Absolutely teases the three of you over the incident FOREVER!!

Shigaraki

Shigaraki was obsessed with you.

There was no way around how infatuated he had become and it only seemed to grow alongside your relationship

He was touch starved. The moment you began giving him physical affection and attention it was game over

He had no shame, especially when it came to his desire for you, which is how you often found yourself perched on his lap no matter the company.

That being said, the leader of the League of Villains became intolerable when the two of you were separated for long.

And a recent spiral of events has prevented you from returning to the hideout, thus leaving the others to deal with him

You weren’t expected to return until the following week. Aside from texting Shigaraki endlessly (didn’t he have anything better to do?) and assuring Twice and Toga that you’d be returning as soon as possible, you hadn’t had much contact with the League

Shigaraki was wound up tight, lashing out at the others far more than usual. That was how he ended up sitting at the bar, Father concealing his annoyance as Kurogiri took over the meeting.

And suddenly you were walking in, muttering a quick apology before taking the only available seat beside Toga

Shigaraki could not keep his eyes off of you, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the others. It was the most present he had been since you left.

Of course, that meant Dabi has also noticed and never missing an opportunity to mess with their ruthless leader he shifted closer from his place behind you, muttering small talk into your ear

There is no doubt in my mind that Shigaraki was staring at you both like 😠 behind Father

Luckily the meeting had been wrapping up upon your arrival and the group was dismissed, many leaving to handle their own business.

However, the moment you had leaped to your feet Tomura had vanished from the room

With a sigh you moved over to the bar, sliding into the seat that had once been occupied by your man and Kurogiri placed a drink before you

By the time you had downed the last bit the bar had gotten eerily quiet, though when you shifted to speak to the Misty Man he was already looking over your shoulder. With a single nod, he had left the room.

The moment he was gone leather artist gloves shoved under your top, your heart racing at the all too familiar feeling as a palm settled between your shoulders

‘I’ve missed you, pet.’

There was a harsh tone to his voice, but it was contradicted by the trail of open-mouthed kisses he pressed along your neck and shoulder

Your entire body arched against him, head craning back to catch a glimpse of him, smiling widely as you met his gaze and returned the sentiment

A scoff slid past his lips, though you could see the amusement dancing in his gaze as his hand reached around to wrap around your throat

Despite the gloves, he kept a pinky in the air

His mouth covers yours in a sloppy kiss as his hips jolt sharply against you, knocking you against the countertop

Absolutely cannot control himself as he ruts against you, wasting little to no time in pushing your bottoms down past your thighs

Heat pooled in your stomach as his free hand reached between you to pull himself from his jeans

His dick slid between your thighs, a throaty whine sliding past your lips and despite the slick from your arousal the thick head stretched you perfectly

You had been completely lost in him, moaning and whining freely as he continued to rut against you.

There was a click throughout the room, similar to the door handle being twisted and your attention was adverted to the source

However, Shigaraki was faster.

He grabbed the back of your head and using his hold as leverage to press your face flat against the bar-top while his other hand worked against your sensitive center. A loud moan that was undoubtedly his name tumbled past your lips

‘There’s my little slut— louder, make sure they know who makes you feel this good.’

Unbeknownst to you, the person he wanted to be sure knew you were his had entered the room, Tomura meeting his gaze with a smirk as you began chanting his name like a prayer

A harsh thrust of his hips sent you over the edge as you came on his cock, filthy praises slipping past his lips as his hot release rolled down your thighs

He placed another sloppy kiss on the back of your neck before parting from you.

The moment you lift your head and begin adjusting yourself you lock eyes with Dabi

Embarrassed didn’t even begin to explain how you felt as Tomura let out a loud laugh, reaching down to pull your bottoms up after he had tucked himself away

‘Go wait on my bed while I speak with Dabi and I may let you come on my tongue.’

You wasted no time hurrying away from the two, heart pounding from both excitement and humiliation as you rushed to do as you were told

#iida x reader #mirio x reader #shigaraki x reader #shinso x reader #tenya x reader #mirio headcanons #iida headcanons #shinso headcanons #shigaraki headcanons #my hero academia #my heado academia headcanons

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years ago

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@chubbykatsudon allowed me to ramble on a little about reverse A/B/O when Omegas are the ones who rules society while Alphas are locked away because they're too dangerous, too violent to hold a responsible role in life. Thank you for making me feel so welcome in your inbox at all times. <3

As the first Omega child of Lettenhove's ruling family, there were expectations on Jaskier. He would wed another Omega of equal rank and, together, they would find an Alpha that was already broken in and as tame as their money could buy. Lettenhove came with some reinforced rooms fot to hold an Alpha. Allegedly Jaskier's sire had been one of the more gentle Alphas, content to sate heats and never asking for more than given.

Naturally, Jaskier had to defy all expectations and he hit the road like some common Beta. Even worse, he found himself not just an Alpha, but a whole pack of them. To make matters even more humiliating, they were Witchers. Sterile, useless Alphas who were not good for anything other than throwing at brutish monsters that terrorised the good folks of the Continent. Despite predictions, gossip and even ill-wishers, Jaskier had never been happier. He gladly gave his status and name to any Alpha Witcher who needed it. Even offered his collar to make their travels easier as he couldn't be beside them all at the same time. Though Jaskier never wanted to play favourites, he most often travelled with his first Alpha, Geralt. He was always so gentle when Jaskier's heat came, reverent at being allowed to help when he'd been raised to believe that no Omega would even look at him with anything but disdain.

There was a contract near a village, the description was rather hit and miss, leaving Geralt unable to determine just what kind of creature they were dealing with. All they knew what that it stole livestock, broke into houses and scared a Beta maid almost lifeless. She had sworn up and down that, whatever it was, it was large, black, stinking worse than anything she'd encountered before and shrieked at being seen before fleeing. It left Geralt stumped but he dutifully set out to track the creature. Thrilled at the prospect of a new creature giving inspiration for new ballads, Jaskier tagged along.

"Could it be a demon? Or an imp?" He asked, trailing after Geralt with a skip in his step. "Or maybe a cursed creature? Just imagine! You could break the curse and it would make for such a romantic ditty!"

"Hush!" Geralt growled and Jaskier giggled. He'd never found the growls of his Alphas to be intimidating and time did nothing to change his view. However, he did fall silent, scenting the air and finding it acrid with something he'd never really smelled before.

They emerged in a clearing, one that quite obviously was home to something. There was a paltry shelter covered with a stolen sheet, a firepit and the remains of a goat. Jaskier couldn't help but be grateful that it wasn't Eskel with him on this particular contract.

"Hello?" Geralt called out, peering towards the shelter. What Jaskier didn't know what that he could hear the rapid heartbeat of someone in there, combined with the sour smell of fear. "We just want to talk."

It was quite obvious whoever had made a home there was the one responsible for the village's woes. Jaskier nodded towards the tent in question and Geralt nodded. Even mouthed "Alpha" at Jaskier, quite certain that whatever it was, it was or at least once had been, human.

"Can we help you?" Jaskier asked softly, moving towards the tent. He crouched down to peer in and, with no warning, a figure burst out, sending Jaskier sprawling before trying to dash past. Unfortunately Geralt was in the way and the man bounced off him, landing in an ungraceful heap on the ground.

Winded, Jaskier sat up and watched as the man cowered before Geralt. When he stood up it got so much worse and, three steps closer, Geralt actually stepped between Jaskier and the man, warning him off.

"You poor thing," Jaskier sighed. "We mean no harm."

Such words fell on deaf ears and each time Jaskier tried to approach, trying to calm the Alpha with his scent, it had to opposite effect. At least with Geralt the man was submissive, allowing himself to be pulled upright and scented even if he trembled so bad, Jaskier was scared he'd fall down.

"Nilfgaard," Gerlat declared. His eyes landed on the Alpha's neck and a growl built in his chest. A violent bonding bite had left the skin heavily scarred and where the collar had sat was rubbed raw. "Force bonded. Where's your Omega?"

It was unheard of for a bonded Alpha to be far from their Omega. Usually, if they were allowed out, it was on a leash in Nilfgaard.

"Dead."

Which explained a lot yet nothing at all. If an Alpha's bonded died, they usually died too. Or were put down because the loss of their bonded drove them beyond saving. Maybe Nilfgaard didn't want to get their hands dirty and deal with yet another body. Their bloody and violent war had left many behind already. It was much easier to cut an Alpha loose and let others deal with the consequences of a grief maddened Alpha in their midst.

"You're far from Nilfgaard."

"Even further from Vicovaro." At least the Alpha could speak beyond single words. "I don't want to go back."

Sensing it was an opportunity, Jaskier smiled and stepped closer, saying, "Then you don't have to. It's as easy as that."

All his good intentions were misread and the Alpha hunched his shoulders, head dipped as if expecting a strike to come. He didn't relax, muscles tight with terror.

"Jaskier, give him some space." Geralt easily slipped between them again, unable to figure out just why the Alpha was so petrified of an Omega. Then again, looking at his neck, Geralt didn't have to imagine. "You've been causing the villagers a lot of problems, you know that, right?"

A mute, shamed nod was his answer.

"I've been hired to take care of the problem." Submission had many forms and Geralt had seen them all over the course of his long life. He never wished for anyone to be so scared of him that they pissed themselves but there he was. The Alpha before him looked ready to fall down and bare his throat and belly, any kind of domination had been probably beaten out of him. It made Geralt's job that little bit harder. "I don't kill without sense. Will you let us help you?"

Jaskier couldn't hold back anymore, he walked closer. "Please, Alpha. Let us offer you what we can."

The Alpha went crashing to his knees as Jaskier got closer, head back and throat bared even if the whites of his eyes were showing in fear and breaths came in short, harsh puffs. Immediately Jaskier backed away, hands up. "We won't hurt you. I won't touch you without your permission."

His words didn't seem to make a difference and Geralt made shooing motions at Jaskier. "Go back to Roach. We'll follow shortly."

Pouting only a little, Jaskier turned, trusting Geralt to know what was best. The only kinds of Alphas Jaskier had encountered were ones that were touch starved and desperate for any scrap of attention and kindness. An Alpha who shied from an Omega's presence was a new challenge and one that Jaskier wanted to very badly to take on. His pack couldn't bond, healed too quick for any such bite to take. It would be no hardship to take an Alpha who had alrady been claimed and cast aside. Bonding, while a romanticised dream, wasn't the be all and end all of pack relationships.

Soon enough Geralt approached with the other Alpha a few steps behind him, nervously clutching at a bag.

"Omega, may I present Cahir for your polite inspection?" He turned to Cahir. "Cahir, I present my Omega, Jaskier. He won't approach without your say so."

Message received, Jaskier waved from where he stood and tried to send a reassuring smile. "Welcome, Cahir. My Alpha brings me the most delighful companions to meet. Share our travels and camp for as long as you find comfort in it." The paltry amount of belongings in the bag couldn't have been much more than a change of clothes, probably stolen from the washing lines. "What's ours is yours."

"Thank you, Omega."

The honorific was nothing more than a trembling whisper and Jaskier nodded. "Just Jaskier. We don't abide by the demands of society."

Clearing his throat, Geralt drew attention back to himself. "I was thinking to head to Kaer Morhen a little earlier this year. If the Pack so wills it, Cahir will join us for the season as a visitor."

Mind already racing ahead, Jaskier nodded. He could see Cahir benefitting from Eskel's gentle approach. And perhaps even Lambert's brutal honesty might help bring Cahir out of his shell a little. Grinning, he agreed readily. "A fine idea. It would be nice to welcome the rest of the Pack home this time. I like the idea of greeting them with the same affection and readiness they usually have for us."

There was no doubt about it, winter was going to be an interesting one.

#geraskier #witchersexual jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #reverse a/b/o #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #alpha cahir #tldr: alphas are hated by society

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wild-karrde · 3 years ago

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Hi, well done on 200! Might I ask for a ficlet about maybe Tup bumping into Corrie Dogma while on his way to 79's with the 501st boys. Tup just stares and breathes out “You're alive.” and it all gets emotional from there. Thank you! 🥺

OK SO I WROTE THIS AND HURT MY OWN FEELINGS, BUT ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! Thank you for the ask!

Rating - T (violence, language)

“Alright, that’s enough out of you, Jesse.”

“No one asked you, Tup,” the newly-minted ARC trooper slurred, swiping his palm across his brother’s face before tugging affectionately on the bun he wore on the back of his head. “Now where’s that kriffing taxi you promised to get me?”

Tup rolled his eyes. “This is what I get for drawing the short straw.”

Jesse scoffed dramatically. “The others got the drinks. Rule is I don’t pay at my own promotion party. When you get ARC, then I’ll put you in the taxi once you’re good and drunk.” He hiccuped loudly as if to enunciate his point, and Tup adjusted the grip he had on his brother’s arm that was slung across his shoulders. A cab finally pulled up and Tup eased his inebriated brother into the backseat. “Barracks please. This should cover it.” He tossed the driver a handful of credits.

“And if he pukes in my speeder?” the driver asked, eyeing Jesse’s prone form in his backseat.

“He’s never been one to lose his lunch, but if he does, take it up with Captain Rex,” Tup grinned. His answer didn’t appear to satisfy the cab driver, but he sped away without further argument, Jesse singing some unintelligible song from the back seat, one of his boots sticking out of the window.

Tup chuckled to himself as he turned back towards the bar. The sun was just beginning to set in the Coruscant sky, and he grinned. Jesse is nothing if not efficient. Got wasted before it even got dark.

Off to his right, Tup noted a Weequay beginning to square off with a human male. Great.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” The Weequay shouted, his finger jabbing into the human’s chest.

“You’re just mad ‘cuz it’s TRUE!” The human responded. A crowd had started to gather, and Tup felt the adrenaline starting to pump in his veins. He was about to let the whole thing sort itself out until he saw the human slip on a pair of brass knuckles behind his back. Ah kriff.

“Hey!” Tup roared, charging through the crowd. “Knock that bantha shit off right now.”

The Weequay backed up, but the human whirled on Tup. “There’s plenty to go around for you, clone.” The last word fell from his mouth like a slurred swear, and Tup could already smell the liquor on him from where he stood. He kept walking until he was standing in between the two of them.

“I think you’ve had enough, friend. Now why don’t you take a step back and slip that jewelry off your hand before you cause a real problem?” Tup rested his hand on the man’s chest, but the man was still leering at the Weequay over his shoulder. Tup pressed more firmly, and the man’s eyes flicked to him before he snorted and spat on the ground at Tup’s feet.

“Tube-bred freak,” he grunted.

Let it roll off your back. Tup sighed. “Yeah, like I’ve never heard that one before.”

Tup thought the comment was benign, but apparently the man didn’t agree with him. Before Tup could blink, the man’s armored knuckles came swinging back around. Tup dodged the first blow, but didn’t manage to duck the left hook that followed it. Luckily, the man only appeared to have one pair of brass knuckles, but Tup still felt the crack above his eyebrow, a warm trickle dribbling down the side of his face. He hit the ground with a thud as all hell broke loose around him. He groaned as the shouts of “CORRIES! RUN!” erupted, and Tup’s vision began to blur. He took an accidental kick to the face as the crowd scattered, and just before he blacked out, he saw a blurry figure in red and white armor standing over him, saying something he couldn’t really make out other than his name.

“Tup?”

—

“Tup. Wake up.” He felt a tap on his cheek, and then another, more insistent shake to his shoulder. “Come on. You've gotta get back to the barracks before Rex comes looking for you.”

Tup opened his eyes, the room around him slow to come into focus. He was lying on a cot of some sort, a dim light on over him. He groaned, shielding his eyes as he sat up gingerly. His neck was incredibly sore, and he winced as he touched his eyebrow.

“The hell happened?” he muttered.

“You tried to break up a fight and got your ass handed to you, that’s what.” He squinted at the figure sitting in front of him. It was a clone of course, wearing red and white armor.

"If I'd known he was gonna swing anyway, I would have said something about his mother," Tup grumbled, closing his eyes and rubbing his head gingerly.

"That doesn't sound like you," the clone sitting across from him joked dryly, and Tup opened his eyes again, trying to make out the Corrie's features. His hair was cropped short, and he had a dark vee-shaped mark across his face. As Tup’s vision cleared, he blinked hard. I have to be imagining things. There’s no way.

“Dogma?”

Dogma looked at him, some nervousness creeping across his features. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I know the last time we saw each other, I was aiming a blaster at you, but I need you to know that-” He was cut off as Tup dove forward, wrapping him in a hug. Dogma grunted, freezing for a moment before he allowed one of his hands to come to rest on Tup’s back. “Well, this isn’t the reunion I was anticipating,” he murmured.

Tup sat back, cupping his cheeks in his hands. “You’re alive.”

Dogma’s eyes widened. “Well…yes.”

Tup snorted, chuckling a bit. “We didn’t know what happened to you. Never heard back once they carted you off. Fives and Jesse started a pool, betting where you wound up, but I was…I was so scared they’d buried you somewhere we’d never find you again."

Dogma’s eyebrows raised, his eyes suddenly glossing slightly. “I was locked up for a bit until they held the court martial. I was found innocent, but was reassigned to the Corries to keep an eye on me, I suspect.”

Tup hugged him again. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

Dogma finally allowed himself a huff of a laugh. “Well, believe it. Now sit back, I need to fix that eyebrow.” Tup did as he was asked, his eyes searching Dogma’s face as his brother wiped at the cut and applied bacta. He had the same permanent scowl lines he'd always sported, but Tup could see a few additional creases framing the tattoo across his face. He's been through it.

“So…who won?” Dogma asked after a few minutes, interrupting Tup's thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Who won the pool? About what happened to me.”

Tup laughed. “Ah, no one. Fives thought you fucked off to some planet with a beach. Jesse figured you were in prison. There were some other farfetched theories, but I don’t think we allowed ourselves to believe that you were here and doing fine.”

Dogma’s hands paused, hovering over Tup's brow. “I wouldn’t say I’m…fine,” he said quietly. “They were right to keep me here. Krell did a number on me. I’m still struggling with it.”

Tup leaned forward, resting his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “We don’t blame you, you know. At least I don’t.”

Dogma sighed as he bandaged Tup’s eyebrow. “Yeah, well, I blame myself enough for all of you.” He shrugged. “It’s a work in progress.” He leaned left and right, surveying his work. “You feel good enough to make it back to the barracks?”

“Want to walk me back?”

Dogma shook his head. “Nah. Not ready for that just yet.”

Tup stood, gripping his brother’s arm. “Alright. But maybe once we get back from our next campaign, you and me grab a drink?”

Dogma stood, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah. I think I’d like that. Where are you headed to next?”

“Ringo Vinda. Supposed to be pretty quick, but you know how it goes.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do.”

Tup headed for the door, turning once more, a massive smile breaking out across his face. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Dogma nodded. “Yeah. You too.”

Participate in my 200 Follower Celebration! :)

#karrde writes #200 follower celebration #follower celebration #fanfiction #fan fic #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #tup #clone trooper tup #dogma #clone trooper dogma #corrie dogma #jesse #arc trooper jesse #501st shenanigans #oops i hurt my own feelings

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sirthisisa-wendys · 4 years ago

Text

Independent Study Part 2: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader x Geto Suguru

synopsis: I literally have no words for this synopsis. I think I might be going to horny hell after this.

wc: 1.7k

tw: NSFW (like FIVE ALARM level! PLEASE Y'ALL, IF YOU ARE A MINOR STAY THE HELL AWAY PLEASE)

masterlist

11:59.

You ring the doorbell and wait patiently for the grad student-turned employee to answer the door, but you’re surprised to see a white-haired, blue-eyed man instead. He stares at you for a moment, and you look back at him with equal curiosity, then he calls out over his shoulder:

“Suguru! I think your professor is here.” Geto appears seconds later, dressed in his black slacks and a blue shirt, rubbing his left eye slowly.

“Hey, y/n. You’re right on time, as usual.” When you’re let into the house, Suguru moves to sit on the couch in the living room instead of leading you back to the bedroom, which was unusual. But the white-haired boy was also unusual. When you sit down on the plush furniture, you sit your bag beside you and pray that the new person in the room wouldn’t plop down and curl his arm around you. But of course, he did just that.

“Suguru… She’s a lot prettier than you let on.”

“Y/n, this is my friend, Gojo Satoru an--”

“But you can call me Satoru, gorgeous,” he purrs and you try to keep a straight face, eyes trained on Geto’s unmoving expression.

“I’ve invited him over for our fifth trial.”

“Will he be watching?” you question and Gojo breaks out into a cackle, leaning his head back and letting the sound travel in the open air.

“Me? Watch?” He laughs again, but you ignore his rudeness.

“No, sweetheart. He’ll be participating this time. I just need your permission and then we can get started.” Two men at once… you consider the possibilities and rub your thighs together, pursing your lips.

“If you need anything to sway your choice… I do have some very interesting tongue skills,” Gojo mentions, making a show of sticking his tongue out and moving it around wildly for emphasis. You choke on air, but Geto just rolls his eyes, standing up.

“Let me get you some water.” When he disappears into the kitchen, you try to wait patiently for him and not engage with Gojo, but he whispers into your ear,

“I think you’re going to have a lot of fun with us today… You ever been fucked from behind while sucking a dick at the same time?” Oh, shit.

“Geto!” you call out, standing from your seated position. He returns immediately, a water bottle in his hand.

“What’s the matter?”

“C-can we go ahead and get started?” Both men are stunned into silence, but when Geto hefts the water bottle in his other hand and sits it on the counter, you know he’s ready too. You’re flanked by both men on your way to the bedroom, but you’re already terribly wet at the thought of having four hands roaming around your body instead of the standard two. So when Geto turns on the camera, does his introduction, and states the name of the trial, you’re already half unclothed with Satoru’s fingers undoing the zipper on the back of your yellow dress.

“Hey,” Geto grunts, noticing the two of you undressing quickly. “Didn’t realize you’d want to fuck each other immediately.” With that, he strips off his tie, leaving it behind him as he stalks toward you, fingers expertly undoing the buttons on his shirt. By now, both men have their shirts off and are fondling you over your bra and underwear, Satoru behind you and Suguru in front of you. While Geto angles your face toward his and kisses you tenderly, Satoru is pressing kisses against your neck and back, and you’re in heaven, feeling sensations tenfold. Thick fingers dip into your underwear from behind, and Satoru hisses, feeling the slick between your thighs.

“Holy fucking shit; it’s like a damn waterfall down there…”

Suguru chuckles, takes your wrists, and pulls you to the bed, laying underneath you while Satoru removes your underwear easily and dives face-first into your core. Your head lifts up as you feel his hands spreading you apart, but Suguru pulls you back down to continue kissing him, murmuring:

“Easy there, professor…”

And Satoru was not lying when he said he had interesting tongue skills. Your moans are amplified when Suguru frees your breasts from their enclosure and begins to suck on them, his tongue running around your nipples skillfully. Satoru pulls away from your dripping cunt for a moment, undoing his pants and letting them fall to the ground.

“I’ll bet you ten dollars we can make her cum more than three times.”

Your right nipple pops free from Suguru’s mouth and he laughs. “You’re on.” You groan loudly, feeling fingers dip into easily, then slide back out just as fast, to which you keen a little, hips bucking back.

“Yeah, I don’t want to finger-fuck you. Sorry, professor, but I’m here for the main event.” Gojo mentions, The familiar crinkle of a condom wrapper coming undone reaches you despite being fully immersed in the moment with Suguru’s mouth on your tits, but when you feel the thick cockhead at your entrance, you angle upwards, almost fully coming off of Suguru’s body. But Satoru uses his free hand to push you back down, sheathing himself halfway before pulling back out.

“How is it?” Suguru asks him, hand holding your head against his chest.

“Fuck, man,” Satoru groans, leaning into you again. “How do you fuck this waterslide raw and not nut immediately?” Geto laughs out loud, rubbing your arm tenderly as you stare up at him in ecstasy.

“Practice, Satoru. That’s all it is. Practice.”

Geto was absolutely right about that, you realize, as Gojo fucks you from behind, and your mouth is stuffed with Geto’s cock. You can barely make any noise with both men ramming into you, but damn if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” you groan, the shaking of your thighs beginning to feel like an orgasm just teetering on the edge of your consciousness. Satoru takes a couple of fingers and plays with your clit, which topples you over into your first orgasm of the afternoon.

“She’s an eager little slut, isn’t she?” Gojo mentions, smacking your ass roughly with the hand he used to make you cum.

“Gojo,” Suguru warns, holding your hair and looking down at you tenderly. “You know the rules.”

“My bad,” Satoru mumbles. Your fingers rub away at your clit furiously, hoping to let the high crest again. Geto pulls you off of his cock, and you take a deep breath, feeling Satoru remove himself from inside of you at the same time. You wonder what the two are up to until you’re flipped on your back and pulled to the edge of the bed by Geto’s rough hands. He enters you in one smooth move, and you instantly notice the difference between the two:

What Gojo lacks in girth, he makes up for in length, and vice versa for Geto. Satoru peels off the condom and strokes himself a few times before pressing the tip of his cock to your lips. You open your mouth to accept him, and while you're taking his length into your mouth, something new happens.

Gojo leans over to touch Suguru’s face affectionately, and while he’s still ramming into you… they lean in for a kiss. Your body suddenly realizes this is all the permission it needs to cum one more time - and with no hands, just two cocks - you feel the sensation of an orgasm ripple through you again, built up by the first.

Suguru seems to notice as well and smiles as he pulls away from Satoru’s lips.

“Gojo, I think we’ve got our second one.”

“Shit, she’s cumming again?”

“Look at her,” Suguru murmurs, and Gojo looks down at you with his blue eyes, observing the way your body stiffened and relaxed rhythmically. The amused glint in his eye does not escape you, and you wonder what he’s thinking as soon as he removes his cock from your mouth.

“I’ve got just the thing for her, then. I’m not losing my ten dollars.” Another condom is produced and rolled down Gojo’s length, but when he takes his place behind Geto and leans him over you, your face contracts in confusion.

��Wait, wha--”

“You better hold on to something, Su,” Gojo whispers, and Geto angles his hips up - still deep inside of you - as Gojo presses into him with a calculated slowness.

“Oh, fuck.” Suguru moans, his breath hot against your neck. It takes a few strokes for Gojo to get fully inside of Geto, but when he is, all bets are off.

“Holy sh--” you’re cut off by the smacking of two sets of hips, one driving the other deeper into yours, and with more force. But Geto is lost, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he tries to keep pace with Gojo. And Satoru’s eyes are glazed over, his head angling back far enough so he can watch your facial expressions with a lazy smile painted on his face.

“Hey, professor, I forgot your name,” he breathes, and you try to reply, but your brain is lost somewhere a million miles away. “Su, what’s her name again?” Suguru can’t reply either, sweat dripping down from his face onto your chest as he tries to catch his breath. Gojo just laughs, knowing he’s got both of you fucked completely senseless. Your hands catch Suguru’s face and you pull him down to kiss you in between the heady moans and groans shared between the two of you.

“Oh, god,” Geto whines. “I’m gonna cum, ‘Toru.”

“Fucking do it,” Satoru grunts, and that’s Suguru’s ticket to let loose inside of you, his violent orgasm bringing you to the edge as well. “That’s it,” he moans, then grunts in time with his deep thrusts, which pushes Geto’s cock into you and some of the cum leaking out of you.

You all remain there, coming down from your highs slowly as if you were all suspended on a cliff you couldn’t walk down from quite yet.

“Yo, Su,” Gojo pants, wiping his face. “Trials six through ten should be like this again. You know, to account for any extenuating variables.”

“Agreed,” Suguru nods, pressing a kiss to your face and whispering, “What do you think of that, professor?”

“Anything you want, Mr. Geto,” you exhale, and the two men smile at each other mischievously.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @amaris9 @vabybizzle @missbonekitty @fyotituti

#jujutsu kaisen getou #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #getou x reader #getou suguru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x geto #geto smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years ago

Text

a little unconventional (part one)

[foster au]

this is set in America because i don't know how Romania works

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

rapture rising

“Alcina, my beloved sister, are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Alcina shot a glare over her shoulder at her toddling younger brother, who she was making carry in several boxes full of various items into one of the many rooms in her mansion. This one wasn’t one of the bedrooms, but rather a temporary storage room for all the things she had recently bought. She was going to have everything set up for the children to choose from when they eventually arrived. Just thinking about them getting to pick out their bedsheets and paint for their new rooms made a smile come to her lips, excitement rushing through her like dozens of butterflies flying for the first time.

…And then her idiot brother bumped into the doorframe and caused an avalanche of boxes to come down on top of him.

“Be careful!” Alcina barked, whirling around to him. She bent down to start picking the boxes up. “You’re lucky there was nothing fragile in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Heisenberg grunted, rubbing his head.

“And to answer your questions, dearest brother, yes, this is all very necessary,” Alcina said. “I need this to be perfect for them. This may be the first time those little girls get a real home.”

“Inflating your ego, aren’t you?”

Alcina stepped on his foot.

“I have the paints.” Moreau, Alcina’s other brother, shuffled inside, holding several cans of paint on his arms. If they were hurting him, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased with himself for being so useful.

“Thank you, Sal,” Alcina said. She took the cans from him and placed them against the wall. “Yellow, green, red, blue, pink, purple… Do you think that’s enough? What if they want, like, a mauve room?”

“Mauve?” Heisenberg echoed as he was crow hopping on one foot, still recovering from being stomped on.

“It’s a shade of purple,” Moreau supplied.

“I know what mauve is, asshole,” Heisenberg hissed. “I was just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, what if they want a lighter-colored room?” Alcina said. “This purple is dark. Should I go buy more?”

“You could mix white into the paint?” Moreau suggested.

Alcina thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I could do that. Good idea.”

“Who wants a mauve bedroom, anyway?” Heisenberg muttered.

“Alcina!” A fourth voice echoed throughout the house, and Alcina’s sister entered the room. Donna looked uncharacteristically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was clutching something in her hands. “Alcina, I have finished them!”

“When did you get here?” Heisenberg looked at her.

“Just now,” Donna said. “It doesn’t matter. Look!”

A beautiful doll was presented to Alcina. It was hand-stitched and dressed with great care. All the little details, down to the freckles and shiny eyes, were incredibly-made, and Alcina couldn’t help but pick it up tentatively, as though she were afraid of accidentally destroying it.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Donna beamed. “I have also made stuffed animals and toy clothes for them. An entire wardrobe, in fact. Many selections.”

“Damn,” Heisenberg looked impressed. “Toys dress better than I do.”

“We know,” the other three said in sync, eyeing his ratty trenchcoat and old cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing everywhere.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Heisenberg barked like one of his dogs.

“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Alcina shrugged daintily. She looked back at Donna and smiled. “Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate your support. I appreciate all of your support. Even yours, Karl.”

“Sure, sure…” Heisenberg said, though Alcina didn’t miss the glint of fondness in his eyes.

“This is so exciting,” Donna said. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Alcina. Do you remember when we were all adopted by Mother?”

Heisenberg snorted. “I remember being kidnapped as a child and held for ransom, and then being one of the abduction victims to be actually found alive, only to discover that my parents had been killed while trying to get me back, to which I was then thrown into a home with you three.”

Donna winced. “Not…quite what I had in mind.”

“And you say ‘you three’ like we weren’t your best friends growing up,” Moreau pointed out idly, not looking at Heisenberg as he was helping unload some of the boxes. That one in particular held a wide selection of different bed sheets, ranging from leopard print to floral to plain blue.

Heisenberg raised his nose and huffed. “Well. Still.”

Alcina shook her head with a warm smile.

She vividly remembered life with her adoptive mother, Miranda, and her three other siblings. She was reborn from ash and flame after her old family estate burned down to the ground, smoldering the life she used to have and taking her parents with it. Yes, she could still smell the smoke, taste the embers on her tongue, even now, thirty-five years later. She was so small back then, only nine years old when the fire started, and she watched her home crumble to pieces right before her teary eyes. She thought it was over, that she had nothing, that she was going to be alone forever without her mother and father, but then a woman in a black cowl whisked her up into tender arms and took her under her wing as though she were the chicken to a nurturing mother bird.

She was the first of Miranda’s ragtag rascal children with harsh upbringings. For two years, it was just the both of them, reading books and watching movies in a beautiful countryside manor that quickly became her new home. Though the wounds had still been raw, the burns were very fresh, Miranda filled the void in her heart that her parents’ death left behind, extinguishing that eternal fire of survivor guilt and mourning.

And then the others came along.

At the time, Alcina had been rather indignant at the idea of having siblings. She was an only child with her birth family and she preferred to stay an only child with her new one, too, but she never voiced this opinion to Miranda. She grinned and bore it, even if it meant losing the attention of her mother.

Though, they didn’t end up being that bad…

The first of the “intruders” as she used to call them was Salvatore Moreau, a boy her age, though three months younger, and with a story similar to her own. He had been in a car crash after his drunken father got into a pretty nasty collision. The engine caught fire and it wasn’t long until the rest of the car followed. Moreau was trapped in the inferno, but managed to get out, running towards a nearby lake to extinguish the flames that were trying to make him its newest pyre. Unfortunately, the event left him badly burned, the scar still lingering all these years later, and nobody wanted to take in such a “disfigured child.” Miranda, however, stepped up to the challenge and fostered the boy, eventually adopting him fully later on.

Alcina was, admittedly, rather uneased by her new brother’s appearance at first, but she quickly got accustomed to him, even protective. There were several moments in school where she verbally (and sometimes even physically) pummeled any kids who dared to make fun of him, drilling into the bullies that he was not to be messed with while she was around. Some of her best retributions were when she threatened to leak unwarranted dick pics to the entire school, as it wasn’t uncommon for horny teenage boys to try to get into her pants, and that always shut them up quickly, especially when she loudly proclaimed details on their pathetic excuse for a penis, like the size and shape.

She and Moreau grew close rather quickly, much quicker than Miranda had been expecting. They both enjoyed more mellow things, like reading books and going on walks through the forest. Moreau was the sole reason she passed any English assignments done on Shakespearean literature, as he actually knew how to discern the confusing text, while she had to reread the same page over and over again to simply get a loose grasp on the grammar. He enjoyed cheesy romcoms, birdwatching, and swimming, the last of which he had a strong affinity for because of how the lake beside the car wreck very well could have been the only reason he survived. Now, he owned that very lake and made it into a popular fishing and boating destination for locals and tourists alike.

The second to arrive was Donna Beneviento, when Alcina and Moreau were both twelve. She was a full five years younger than the two of them and didn’t talk very often, at least for a good chunk of the first year she was there. She was put into the foster program after her parents commit suicide, leaving her with nothing but anxiety, trauma-induced selective muteness, and a doll named Angie.

It took time, but Donna eventually started opening up. First to Miranda, and then to Alcina and Moreau. Alcina strongly remembered a time when her little sister came to her room during a thunderstorm, lips quivering, tears glistening in her eyes, Angie clutched in a vice from her thin arms. She didn’t say anything, just stared from the doorway, whimpering and shivering.

“Alright,” Alcina had sighed. She flipped open her comforter, welcoming Donna. “Come on.”

Donna had brightened and skittered into the bed, snuggling right up against Alcina’s side. Alcina didn’t mind and resumed the book she had been reading before--Animal Farm, she believed. Donna pointed at the pages and then looked up at her curiously.

“Oh, this?” Alcina had said. “It’s called Animal Farm. It’s about these talking farm animals overthrowing their farmer to gain freedom, only to then be ruled by a communist pig.”

Donna blinked. “What’s a communist?”

“Well, you see…”

Her late-night explanation was certainly aided by the fact that they were in the middle of the Cold War at the time.

Overtime, Donna slowly grew out of her shell. Though she was still soft-spoken and reserved, she was also very kind-hearted and incredibly creative, which she showed through paintings, arts and crafts, and doll making. She would make dolls out of anything she could find--wood, thread, clay--so it made sense when she eventually became a toymaker once she grew up.

Finally, there was Karl Heisenberg when Alcina and Moreau were thirteen and Donna was eight. Right from the start, he was a loud, spitfire ten-year-old that broke the serene silence that used to hang over Miranda’s estate. He caused a great amount of mischief and mayhem, though Alcina would later discover it was to hide the fact that he was deeply traumatized by what exactly had happened to make him a foster child.

Even now, so many years later, Alcina still didn’t know the full story. Miranda said it wasn’t her tale to share and Heisenberg simply didn’t like talking about it very much. But from what she did know, Heisenberg used to belong to an incredibly wealthy business owner that ruled over their company with an iron fist. Due to the harshness his parents inflicted on their employees, it caused the workers to revolt against the abuse. A certain group took this way too far and kidnapped Heisenberg, holding him for ransom so they could get better treatment and pay at their work. Something ended up happening during the time between Heisenberg being held hostage and his parents paying up, and it left his mother and father in a way that he could never bring himself to explain. She only got snippets of the brutality of their deaths through brief moments when he would come to after vicious nightmares, one of which she actually stepped in to stop when she heard him struggling one night.

“Their heads, Alci,” Heisenberg had gasped, clawing manically for a desperate grasp on her arms, his body jerking and spasming in terror as his nightmare was still releasing his small, twelve-year-old body. “Their heads-- their brains were--” And then he stopped and keeled into her chest, sobbing in a way Alcina had never seen him do before in the two years he was living with her before that moment. Despite her occasional vex towards the boy, he was still her little brother and she was still his big sister, so she had wrapped her arms around him and held him close while he trembled and cried.

She never did find out what Heisenberg meant by “their heads,” but she had a hunch. Still, she never asked.

Nowadays, Heisenberg ran his own factory, where he treated his employees the way his parents should have treated theirs, learning from their mistakes. He also fostered all different kinds of dog breeds until they found their forever homes and rescued the more ‘vicious’ ones, like pit bulls and rottweilers, all of which he treated like royalty.

A freakishly tall girl, a burned boy, a selective mute, and a dog lover… They certainly weren’t the epitome of the stereotypical nuclear family, but they were family through and through, if not by blood, then by bloodshed.

“Do you guys remember the time Karl tried to clean the dishwasher with Kool-Aid?” Donna reminisced with a giggle.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Heisenberg said.

“Absolutely not,” Donna grinned at him.

“I still don’t know how you came to the conclusion that that would work,” Alcina shook her head.

Heisenberg threw his arms up into the air. “John said it did!”

“John also tried to steal a school urinal.”

“Also, you’re supposed to take all of the dishes out before you try to clean it with Kool-Aid,” Moreau spoke up. “You left all of the pots and plates and silverware in it.”

“And he didn’t even put it in the right spot!” Alcina joined, cackling. “You’re supposed to put the powder in the detergent dispenser. Karl, you just poured it out all over the dishes!”

“It wasn’t even the right powder,” Donna put in. “You’re supposed to strictly use unsweetened lemonade only. You used tropical punch!”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all burst into laughter, while Heisenberg crossed his arms and glared at them.

“John never specified any of that!” he blustered.

“Never trust John, dear,” Alcina tittered.

“Well, it happened!” Heisenberg said. “It’s over! What other boxes do you need to move!”

More laughter.

“I’m serious! I’ll get the boxes! Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy tortoiseshell cat lazily strolling into the room with them. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, run over again, and then put back together by a blind surgeon, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the four siblings, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to one of the empty boxes, which it jumped into and made itself comfortable inside.

“It’s a cat,” Donna said as if it should have been obvious, earning a snort from Moreau and then a glare from Heisenberg.

“It’s not funny,” Moreau said quickly after Heisenberg glared at him, too, but it was obvious Heisenberg’s leer was all in good fun.

“No, no. Tom from Tom and Jerry is a cat,” Heisenberg said. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out,” Donna said breezily.

Another bout of laughter, this time with Heisenberg included.

“Okay, okay, you got me there,” Heisenberg said.

“Must you insist on reacting the same way every single time you see Tea Cake?” Alcina finally spoke up through the playful bickering. She crouched down next to the cat and stroked its back, which caused it to purr in content.

“It’s my trademark,” Heisenberg said with a shrug. “That old woman is still alive?”

“And kicking,” Alcina smiled fondly at her pet.

Tea Cake had been with her for a long fourteen years, witnessing more than a few existential crises and drunken concerts put on to chase off her lurking PTSD. That cat came during the worst part of her life, and Alcina owed everything to that little beast. She learned how to laugh and smile and genuinely feel again, not hide behind the facade that she was a strong, powerful woman who could take on everything and come out without a scratch.

And, yes, Alcina had known- still knew, that she had Miranda and her siblings, but sometimes they were not enough, not back then, not when she was filled with so much shame and self-hatred and disgust. Animals were different in a way people couldn’t be. Animals didn’t lie, they didn’t judge or think about how messed up you were in their heads. They didn’t share your secrets or give you false hope. They just--be there. They listened and lent their presence and, sometimes, that was all that was needed, and some people didn’t seem to understand that.

Tea Cake’s fur had dried more of Alcina’s tears than anyone else ever had because she never let them fall in front of others. Tea Cake didn’t get upset when Alcina touched her; she didn’t understand the concept of emotional trauma and sexual harassment and body image issues. She just cared, even if she didn’t quite get it.

Alcina would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.

Yes, she remembered that fateful night… The wind in her shaggy hair she hadn’t washed in days, the moonglow on her ashen skin, the tears burning in her eyes--all of it was so clear, even now. She remembered how horribly, hopelessly depressed she had been and how she drove out to a field with a note on the dashboard and a gun in the passenger seat.

At the time, nothing had helped her. Her antidepressants weren’t working, going out only made her feel unsafe, and her family’s presence no longer brought her comfort and happiness, rather guilt and shame. The only thing that ever helped was when she drowned herself in the alcohol she made for a living, drinking away her despair and trauma until her body tingled and the phantom hands went away. She was surprised her liver never exploded inside of her during those awful few months.

She had sat in her car for a while, leaning her head on the steering wheel and wallowing in silence and darkness. Then, she got out, made sure the note was visible, and grabbed the gun.

She considered calling or texting her mother and siblings, but that would make it hurt worse. It was better to leave them with their last memories of her than to have this sudden news of a goodbye that they wouldn’t be able to stop.

She placed the pistol’s barrel in her mouth and rested her finger on the trigger. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like some movies or books say it did, and she was quite thankful for it. She didn’t want to relive the agony she had been put through that led her up to that point. She just shut her eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through her brain…

Then, there was a rustling from the grass nearby.

Alcina hesitated. The metallic taste of the gun left her tongue and she looked in the direction of the noise.

“Hello?” she had called out in her best possible not-about-to-kill-herself voice.

A tiny meow answered her.

“Your roadkill wants you,” Heisenberg’s voice cut through the daze that had momentarily descended upon Alcina’s mind.

Blinking, Alcina realized that Tea Cake was gnawing on her finger and meowing. She smiled.

“It’s probably dinner time,” Alcina said. She stood up straight. “Come on, children. I have news to share.”

Curious, her three younger siblings followed her out of the room and to her kitchen, Tea Cake padding after them eagerly. Her house was a beautiful creation of the finest wood and the most luxurious stonework. Top-of-the-line appliances filled the space and every little detail, down to the hanging droplets on the chandelier and the grooves in the staircase railing, were customized to her preference. 6 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 17,182 square feet, 14.99 acres filled by lush vineyards, and $5,500,000 later, and you had the Dimitrescu Estate.

And it was a barren prison.

It had always been there, ever since she moved in: that lingering loneliness that seemed to shroud every hallway. She had so much space, but nobody to fill it. Nobody except herself, Tea Cake, and her maids, of course. Lying awake one night, thinking about this issue as she often did, a solution had finally come to her.

After pouring some wet food into Tea Cake’s food bowl, Alcina grabbed a bottle of sweet butter wine out of her wine fridge and poured a glass for herself and each of her siblings, all of which were staring at her curiously. After taking a long sip, she finally began: “As you all know, I have plans to foster a child. And I greatly appreciate all of the support you three have provided me up until now.”

“Is this an award ceremony or something?” Heisenberg joked light-heartedly. “Can I have the award for most boxes carried? I think I deserve that one.”

“You mean most boxes dropped?” Donna giggled, earning her a playful poke in the side.

“No, it is not an award ceremony,” Alcina glared at Heisenberg without any fire in her gaze. She opened up a drawer in the stainless kitchen island they were gathered around. “Though, this may very well be an award…” She pulled out a blue folder packed full of papers and set it on the marble countertop, grinning brightly. “I just wanted to let you all know first that my training is done. I’ve completed all the classes.” Her heart swelled in her heart as she spoke her next words: “I’m a foster mom now.”

All at once, her younger siblings lit up brighter than the sun’s supernova, throwing their arms up into the air and letting out a celebratory shout. Donna and Moreau even raced around the island to hug Alcina, which she returned with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Alcina!” Donna said, squeezing her with surprising strength. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Moreau agreed.

“Sal, are you crying?”

“No!” Moreau yelped, then sniffled. “I just have something in my eye, that’s all.”

“You mean tears?” Heisenberg teased. He then looked at Alcina. “That’s amazing, Alcina. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.”

“Aww,” Alcina crooned. “Is my little brother going soft?”

Heisenberg instantly steeled himself. “Me? No way! I was just saying what you would want to hear.”

Still being embraced on either side by her other brother and sister, Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know your placement yet?” Donna asked, looking up at Alcina as though she were a child again.

“Placements,” Alcina corrected. She couldn’t help but grin again as she spoke of her future children. “Two. I’m getting two little girls.”

“Aww!” Donna and Moreau both cooed.

Heisenberg was nodding. “Girls. Yes. I can do girls.” He looked up at Alcina. “I’m getting them a puppy.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

“I’m getting them a puppy,” Heisenberg said again, and it was clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Alcina chuckled. “Alright. A puppy it is.”

Donna and Moreau began to join in on plans for being the greatest aunt and uncle, with Moreau saying that they needed to come to his lake for a swim and Donna listing off all the toys she would make for them. Alcina listened to them with a fond smile, happy to have such a supportive family. This was exactly what her daughters were going to need.

Daughters.

Just thinking about that word made her heart flutter in her chest. Her grin turned giddy. She was going to be a mother soon.

As she sipped from her wine glass, she thought about her placements. She had gotten the call four days ago and was scheduled to meet the little ones in the next two weeks. She could still hear her caseworker’s words in her ears during the conversation as she recalled it to her siblings.

“The first is named Daniela,” Duke had said. He was a studious, patient man with a warm smile and hands like chipmunk paws, keen on helping Alcina ever since she started her training to become a foster parent six months ago. “She’s a little girl and eleven years old. Her parents have, unfortunately, recently died due to a car crash. Her living relatives are unfit to take care of her, so she’s been placed into the foster system. Right now, she’s staying with her aunt and uncle, but she cannot be kept there much longer because of, ah…jealousy issues with their actual child.

The second is named Cassandra. Another girl, this one twelve years old. She’s been in the foster program ever since she was a baby when she was given up, as she was born from a teenager who couldn’t take care of her. She’s had…quite a few foster homes, all of which had given her up to someone else due to…issues. I understand if you don’t want to take this child. She’s been known to cause problems in her houses and pick fights. There is-- woo, that’s a lot of complaints… There are some notes on her left by her former families and-- Goddamn. They’re writing of her like she’s a monster or something…”

“Of course, I couldn’t turn down either of them,” Alcina concluded her retelling. “Especially the second one. Cassandra. The poor thing sounds like she needs a good home.”

“You’re so sweet, Alci,” Donna said, smiling at her.

“Think you can handle it?” Heisenberg asked. “I’m not doubting your abilities, but from what you said about the kid… Well, she just sounds difficult.”

“You were difficult,” Alcina said, grinning at him. “And everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

Her youngest brother’s concern didn’t diminish. “Yes, but… I don’t want anything to happen to you or my niece.”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all cooed. Heisenberg huffed.

“Oh, shut it! I have a heart!”

“You do,” Alcina’s smile lightened slightly. “But don’t worry: everything will be okay. I can do this. I need to do this. Those two little girls need a mother.”

Heisenberg considered her for a moment, then nodded. He smiled at her. “You’ve got a good heart, Alcina,” he said. “If you ever need any help, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Donna joined in.

“Me three!” Moreau piped up.

Alcina laughed. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me. Now…” She raised her glass. “Let’s drink before we have to cut back because there will be children around!”

Her siblings laughed and mimicked her gesture.

Alcina couldn’t wait.

#foster au #resident evil au #resident evil fanfic #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #mother miranda #dimitrescu daughters #a little unconventional

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tlou-1 · 4 years ago

Text

Joel Miller x Reader (Home) Chapter 20

Chapter 20 - Joel still hasn't returned from patrol, you set off after him and what you find is beyond what you could have worried about.

You look at the clock again, 11:15 and still Joel wasn’t back. You had been pacing the kitchen with Patrick playing at your feet, Joel was over an hour late. Another half an hour passed and you couldn’t sit in the house any longer. You picked up Patrick and made your way to Maria’s post for the day in town, “Maria it’s been two hours and none of them are back. Looks at the clouds out there, somethings wrong I can just feel it” You plead with her but she just says they have probably bunkered down with the snow, “and nothing on the radio either?” You ask, she shakes her head. Right that settled it, you turned and made your way to your sisters. Before Molly could greet you as she opened the door you began “Joel has been out since dark this morning and still isn’t back. I need you to take Patrick for me”, you try to hand him to her but she says “No”, there is a pause for a moment “No? What do you mean No, Molly I really need” but she interrupts you by grabbing a jacket and locking her door, “Because I am coming with you. We can drop him off at the day care”.

You and Molly try to sneak into the stables to retrieve a horse each but of course Maria had you sussed and was waiting for you. “Maria I need to go out there, I know it sounds crazy but I have a bad feeling” you argue.

“You’re right, it does sound crazy“ she responds, she was always so set on rules.

“Do you know what, maybe it does but it’s your husband out there as well. Tell me you aren’t worried about them being out there with no sleep, in a blizzard with reports of hoards of infected. I am more capable than most folk in this town and I am going out there” you say sternly close to her face and she knew you were not going to budge.

“Okay” she concedes and proceeds to pass you the reigns of the horse and your bag back filled with your gear. “I cant spare many folks to go out with you, Jesse, Dina and Ellie are already out there you can meet them at one of the posts” she explains. Jesus now your worry turned to them but your line of thought is interrupted by the radio, it was Jesse. “Maria, Tommy and Joel didn’t show to trade off” he explained. You take the radio from Maria, “Jesse its Y/N, where were they patrolling? Can you get, Ellie and Dina and meet me there?” You ask, he agrees to your plan. Your sister in laws body language had changed during the exchange.

“We need to go now” you shout to Molly as your get on your horse and take off. Behind you Molly is following and Maria had saddled up obviously now sharing in your worry.

The wind and snow was harsh and whipped at your face as you rode ahead as fast as the horse would carry you, you must have been not far behind Ellie now. Neither Joel or Tommy’s had been at their post but their tracks had led you to a Chalet you had visited a couple of times on patrols. As you approached closer you could see more than two sets of tracks, they were disrupted slightly from the storm but there was defiantly a number of different footprints, other people were here. You had to be smart about this, the rest of the guys were still a bit behind you. You move into the building as quietly as possible and have to take out one guy standing watch at a patio door, he had a fresh cut right across his face. If anyone finds him they will know someone else is here, you had to move swiftly. As soon as enter the lodge you can hear cries of pain, guttural cries. It makes your stomach churn, you were right to have had a bad feeling. One more girl is pacing in the kitchen, you silence her by taking your small knife down on her. It had been a number of years since you had taken the life of a living person but you didn’t hesitate after hearing those cries.

You follow the cries to a narrow staircase with a door at the bottom of it, you could feel your heart in you mouth as you took each step closer to the door. You peer through the slight crack and see a group of unfamiliar people and a figure standing above a bloody one. You take a breath remember where each person was standing, attach your silencer and pushing open the door quietly, you take out the three people closest to the door, one dead ahead the other two to your right side. You were still one of the best shots without a doubt, maybe just as good as Tommy. There were three left by the time they realised what had happened and your presence, a young man standing next to a women with cropped dark hair and a large women standing above the bloody figure, it was Joel along with Ellie and Tommy unconscious.

The man goes to grab a pistol, lying next to the body of one of the men you just shot and without hesitation you reach round to your backpack pocket. Thank god it was still there.

“Don’t any of you fucking move, or I will blow up everyone of us in this room” you spit out as you hold the grenade in their sight. They each stop in their tracks and the large girl standing above your husband loosens her grip on club. Joel tires to speak but barely a sound escapes his lips.

“You’re bluffing, why would y-“ she begins.

“Try me”, you challenge her and there is a long pause “You let them go… you leave here and everyone gets to walk away from this or every single one of us just end it here”. This was madness but what other chance had you got, either way the people you loved could wind up dead, the only thing to stop these strangers was the threat of loosing their own lives and if it meant you went with them, so be it.

“No, not him, not after what he did.” The girl lifted the club but you jump in “What ever he did, I am walking out of here with him, our daughter and that other man alive or none of us are”

“He took everything from us! Killed my father, ruined any chance of a cure” the women says lowly shaking her head.

“You’re fireflies?” You ask looking around at them but you already know the answer from what she had said.

“Were. There are none, left he made sure of that. Killed most of us.” She answers. You speak without thinking, a stupid thing to do.

“I don’t blame him… Protecting her, I would have done the same. They were going to butcher the brain of a child, our daughter for the smallest chance of cure. If that’s the price for a potential cure and humanity were so eager and willing to pay it, we didn’t deserve it. I know that much.”

She looks like she has seen red and goes to lift the club again but before she can send it crashing down one of the fireflies, the man stops her and you have pulled the pin on the grenade keeping your finger firmly pressed on the clip as he intervenes.

“Abby stop! She is going to kill all of us” he pleads with her looking between Abby and the women behind him with cropped dark hair that he called Mel. Your hand is shaking from your firm grip on the clip.

“Are you insane?” The man asked, “When it comes to my family, yes” You reply looking down at Joel and Ellie.

“Figures, crazy man, crazy wife” scoffs the other woman says looking between you and Joel.

“Don’t fucking touch him. I am giving you all a chance, take it. If I let go of this clip, dead or alive it only takes two seconds for this thing to go off”. You try sounding as calm as possible and it seems to pay off but inside your terrified more than you had ever been. In your head you pray, you had never prayed in your life, for them to leave, for the woman to put down the club, for them not to shoot you, for this bomb to be a dud like Joel had said but for them to not find out it was.

You can hear commission from upstairs as the rest of the search party have caught up with you, you had bought all the time you needed. Owen grabs Mel by the arm and leaves through garage door.

“You should go with your friends”

Abby looks torn for a moment her eyes fixed on Joel before she flings the golf club to her side and takes off, on horse back alongside her friends but you felt this part of the past would rear its ugly head again.

As soon as it sounds clear you carefully place the pin back in the grenade and fall to the floor, guess you will never know if it was a dud or you almost killed everyone in this room. Ellie is still breathing but bruised, you look across at Tommy, the same. Your husband, you crawl across to Joel, the ground around him covered in blood you can feel it soaking your jeans.

“Jesus, Joel can you hear me?” you say softly, tears in your eyes from the sight of him. His right eye swollen, strips of blood pouring down his face from a couple gashes he had taken on the head. You were worried to touch him in case it caused any more pain, it was hard to look at him like this.

“You got to stay with me, you cant leave me, you hear? You promised” you cry just as Maria, Jesse, Dina and Molly enter the room.

“Holy Fuck” Jesse whispers. You beg them to help Joel, Dina checks on Ellie who is starting to gain consciousness along with Tommy.

“The storm has almost passed, Jesse and Dina find something we can make a stretcher out of. We can strap it to one of the horses and pull him back”. Maria says at her husbands side, it was the best anyone could do in the dead of winter. No one even thought about going after the remaining three strangers, what was important was the three people who each of you loved in this room.

You rode behind Jesse who’s horse is pulling Joel the entire trip, he sometimes groans or shifts and all you want to do is ask to stop and let him rest but there was no time for it, you had to get back as swiftly as possible. As soon as you arrive back in Jackson men are there to carry Joel’s stretcher into the surgery, you follow behind asking Dr Henry if he would be okay. She didn’t respond focusing solely on Joel, she tells you to stay in the hallway and when you start to protest and push forward Jesse is there pulling you back and when you stop fighting him into a hug. You finally let out a cry from everything, the horror of what you had seen, what you had almost done and at the thought of your husband’s life still hanging in the balance. Everything goes to black for a moment.

*NOTES - I have to say I found this one pretty difficult to write so I apologise if it doesn't land as well as the other chapters. There is just so much that happens. I have decided to deviate slightly from the game, we have all seen the dark ending for Joel in the game so lets try something different

#the last of us fanfic #The Last of Us #The Last of Us Part 2 #The Last of Us Part ii #Joel Miller #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou joel #tloufanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #Ellie Williams #ellie x joel #tlou ellie #tlou dina #tlou jesse

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neverdoingmuch · 4 years ago

Note

How about a sweet Wangxian date night in?

The sun is setting as Wei Wuxian makes his way home. When he'd first left his office and started heading back, the sky had been cast in shades of pink and gold, gentle and pretty. By the time he's making his way up the narrow path to the Jingshi, the sun is little more than a slight sliver of burnt orange lining the tops of the surrounding mountains of Gusu and casting its hues on the pale flowers growing nearby. It's a beautiful sight and usually Wei Wuxian would stop and enjoy watching the last vestiges of the day fade away.

He likes the way he can settle himself at the base of a tree and watch as the skies slowly move from blues to gentle pastels to burning reds and then finally fading away to darkness as the stars come out with the moon. Wei Wuxian would sit there, even though he would see nothing but what tiny fragments of the night he's allowed to, and enjoy being able to just enjoy the world around him for the first time in what feels like twenty years. It never takes long for the chill to settle into his bones here in Cloud Recesses, but that never matters because it never takes long for Lan Zhan to come and find him. Despite bundling him in warm robes, Lan Zhan would always pull Wei Wuxian onto his lap and wrap his arms around him as they sit together until Wei Wuxian is ready to go home.

It's too late to do that tonight, the sun already all but gone and the first stars shining brightly. But, even if it wasn't, Wei Wuxian doesn't have enough time to sit and wait for his husband to come to him. He's already late.

So, Wei Wuxian rushes – he had been since he finished his duties for the day, but it's easier to walk in the more crowded areas of Cloud Recesses. Lan Zhan had made sure that no one would punish him for breaking the rules, but that never stopped anyone from lecturing him on setting a good example for the young disciples. As if children don't know what running is. Still, it's faster to just walk as quickly as he can and avoid the disapproval of the elders than it is to run. Lan Zhan, fortunately, lives far away from anyone else in his own beautiful piece of Cloud Recesses, so, once Wei Wuxian is far enough away from the main paths, he starts running as fast as he can.

Wei Wuxian knows the path home like the back of his hand, so the dark of night doesn't bother him much. He knows to duck the branch that the servants haven't got around to trimming back yet, and to jump over the small ditch where the water crosses the path in autumn. He's so settled in his own mind that the sound of the guqin almost makes him trip. Wei Wuxian pauses. It's not loud, but the sound carries out across the silence of the mountain, a melody that his heart beats to. Wei Wuxian smiles, to himself – for himself – and follows his song home. It's not lanterns, but it's something that Wei Wuxian prizes just as much.

As Wei Wuxian keeps running, the music becomes clearer and louder until he can see Lan Zhan sitting inside the Jingshi, his guqin across his lap and his eyes already meeting Wei Wuxian's. Wei Wuxian sprints across to him, coming to a halt so suddenly he all but skids; Wei Wuxian never sees the use in hiding how much he loves his husband. His shoes are thrown across the patio, and Wei Wuxian is quick to make his way to Lan Zhan's side.

Lan Zhan has already set aside his guqin and so, with a cursory glance to check for anything delicate, Wei Wuxian flops onto the floor in front of him. Lan Zhan immediately tugs on Wei Wuxian's robes and Wei Wuxian makes the mistake of looking up. Except it isn't a mistake, not really, not when he gets to see Lan Zhan, handsome and incredible Lan Zhan, peering down at him with so much tenderness in his eyes it honestly makes Wei Wuxian want to cry. Lan Zhan tugs at his robes again, an imperceptible smile across his lips, and Wei Wuxian obediently shuffles so his head rests in Lan Zhan's lap.

Immediately, Lan Zhan reaches out to carefully untie Wei Wuxian's ribbon. His hair flops loose onto the ground but, barely a moment later, Lan Zhan is gently scooping it up to place in his lap as well. Fingers start brushing through his hair, steady and strong, as Lan Zhan starts working out the knots that have made their home in his hair sometime during the day.

Wei Wuxian, who had been so prepared to whine about being late, is stunned to silence. It embarrasses him still, that it takes the slightest of touches, the littlest of effort, and the quietest of words from Lan Zhan to stop him in his tracks. The careful way Lan Zhan moves his fingers through his hair, pausing at each knot and freeing it so gently that it doesn't even tug at his scalp makes Wei Wuxian feel fragile and vulnerable in a way that he's only recently started learning to like.

It takes him long moments to piece his words together again, but Wei Wuxian has always been good at rolling with the punches, whatever they may be.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whines.

“Hm?”

“Lan Zhan,” he says again, a plea for attention. He already has it of course, but old habits die hard and it's a fun game to play. “I'm late.”

“You are,” Lan Zhan agrees. “Did something happen?”

There's a quiet concern in his voice so Wei Wuxian quickly waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I was just working on something for your uncle and I lost track of time.”

Lan Zhan doesn't say anything, but his shoulders loosen, just that little bit.

“But that's not what's important!” Wei Wuxian protests. “I was late and now our night is ruined!”

“Is it?”

Wei Wuxian nods enthusiastically. “I had plans! Wonderful, amazing plans that would have made you fall in love with me even more! But I'm tired now.”

He is, he really is, and it makes Wei Wuxian feel so old. It's been a long time since he's come home and felt the exhaustion of a good day's work and not the bone-deep exhaustion of responsibility. He's so used to swallowing down his anger and fear and keeping it close to his heart, clinging onto it like it's the only thing keeping him alive – it was the only thing that kept him alive for so long – and now he has an empty spot inside of him. It's vast and aching and Wei Wuxian thinks it will always be there, but he's filling it with something new. He's spending his days inventing and teaching and loving and being loved, and it's a different sort of tiredness he carries with him now. It's sore muscles and carefully tended gardens, cuts on hands and warm meals, aching wrists and research papers. It's home and it's wonderful and new and Wei Wuxian luxuriates in it.

He feels tired after a day of work and Wei Wuxian leans into it, embraces it and lets himself be lazy and relax. He doesn't have to ignore his pain and fear and feed himself to his own fury. Wei Wuxian is allowed to feel tired – he's allowed to be worn out after a day's work and not have to keep going. He's allowed to walk and sit and lie down and, while it's nice to run about, it's still nice to enjoy the slow and steady beat of his heart and the one that echoes it so closely. So, he tells his husband that he's tired even though he's spent most of his day talking to disciples and hunched over a desk.

“You look tired,” Lan Zhan tells him and a single finger traces the bags beneath his eyes.

“I am, I am,” Wei Wuxian chirps, then heaves out a massive sigh. “But I was really looking forward to going to Caiyi, and now the plans are ruined.”

Lan Zhan's fingers continue to stroke through his hair. The knots are probably all long gone, but his husband doesn't seem like he's going to stop and Wei Wuxian doesn't think he'll ever stop him.

“What were we going to do?” Lan Zhan asks him.

Wei Wuxian hums in thought even though he had the whole night planned out for over a week now.

“I was going to take you through the market and we would have bought so much food from the stalls. Like, way too much food. You'd have to carry me back up here when we finished I'd be that full. We would have gone to get your favourite steamed buns – you know with the tofu and mushrooms – and then we would have just enjoyed wandering around for a while. There's some new merchants from Yunmeng stopping by for the week, and Sizhui's birthday is coming up so I thought we could look for something for him. I also owe your brother a new inkwell.”

Wei Wuxian pauses, and patiently waits to see whether Lan Zhan has anything to add.

“Uncle needs more tea.”

“Yes, yes, he was complaining about that,” Wei Wuxian agrees, then continues, “Did you know that you could hire boats? Just to go out onto the lake?”

“Mn.”

“Well, I wanted to hire a boat – it would be just like when we were kids but we'd share this time! No worrying about me splashing you again, hm? I'd row us out into the middle … maybe? If my arms get sore will you row us the rest of the way out?” Lan Zhan nods, and Wei Wuxian beams at him before continuing, “ It's the best spot to watch the sun set, trust me. Very romantic! We'd get to eat our food there and just relax and enjoy the night. Then, because we're not strangers anymore, you might even hold my hand when I ask.”

Lan Zhan's hand slips down from where it had been stroking through his hair and grasps the back of Wei Wuxian's collar, just like he had when they were young and foolish. He tightens his grip until on it until it digs into the front of Wei Wuxian's throat slightly.

“Will I?” he asks lightly, and pulls, just a little bit.

Wei Wuxian gasps and lets out a whine. He's quick to nod his head.

Satisfied, Lan Zhan lets go of his collar and goes back to running his fingers through Wei Wuxian's hair.

“I will hold Wei Ying's hand whenever he wishes to.”

Wei Wuxian gapes at his husband.

“Unfair,” he wails. “My husband is so cruel to me.”

He's not sure whether Lan Zhan is being cruel by telling him such heartfelt words without warning or because he just did that to him, but it doesn't change the way that Wei Wuxian flusters. Averting his eyes, Wei Wuxian peers out the still open door of the Jingshi and sees that night has well and truly set now. When he dares a glance back at his husband, Lan Zhan still looks a bit victorious and proud.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he says quietly, “it's too late to go out now. Is it alright if we stay here tonight? We don't have to do anything special, do we? It's enough that it's the two of us, here and now.”

Lan Zhan carefully pulls Wei Wuxian upright, so that his chest rests against Wei Wuxian's back. Wei Wuxian leans into him, tilting his head back onto Lan Zhan's shoulder.

“Look,” Lan Zhan tells him.

He doesn't point but he does glance over across the room. Wei Wuxian follows his gaze and sees that upon their table lays a whole spread of food, familiar bowls of bright red interleaved with some of a more subdued colour. A pot of tea sits in the centre, steam rising quietly from its spout and a talisman attached on its side.

“You cooked dinner?”

Lan Zhan nods. “I knew you'd decide to stay in tonight.”

“Ahh, my husband knows me so well. How he shames me, to dare know my heart when even I don't.”

Lan Zhan nuzzles into his neck and quietly murmurs, “And yet my husband has the audacity to know mine.”

He presses a kiss to his neck and Wei Wuxian smiles.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you're too charming. How will I manage to keep your heart when a single sentence spilt from your lovely lips is enough to make some fair maiden fall deeply in love with you?”

Wei Wuxian almost expects his husband to frown, as he so often does when Wei Wuxian mentions other women to him, but instead he feels Lan Zhan smile.

“Then,” his husband says carefully, “is it not good that we're staying at home tonight? Far away from any fair maidens?”

“Hmm,” Wei Wuxian pretends to muse. “And what about me? Aren't you worried about making this poor maiden fall for you?”

Lan Zhan bites him, hard and suddenly, and Wei Wuxian shrieks.

“What maiden?” Lan Zhan demands. “I only see my husband.”

“It's true, it's true, it's true,” Wei Wuxian hurriedly agrees, and a moment later Lan Zhan is laying a soft kiss where he'd just bit him. “Besides we've become so old now, I'm not sure the maidens would even want your attentions.”

He's teasing his husband, of course; Lan Zhan may be older than Wei Wuxian remembers him, the width of his shoulders and strong line of his jaw still taking Wei Wuxian off-guard in the early hours of the morning when he's still waking up, but he dearly loves the man his husband has become.

Lan Zhan doesn't look offended but Wei Wuxian still twists around until he can press a kiss against his jaw. “You'll always have my attention, even if you get boring and old.”

Wei Wuxian leans back into Lan Zhan's chest, and, as he's soaking up the warmth that seems to emanate off his husband with the fierceness of a furnace, realises something. It's a gentle dawning sensation, quiet and peaceful and inevitable.

“Look at us,” Wei Wuxian says. “We were once mighty cultivators, fighting terrifying monsters and ending wars, and here we are, enjoying quiet nights in and finding romance in cooking.”

Lan Zhan hums, sounding perfectly content. Wei Wuxian is too, but he keeps going anyway.

“One day we might not even want to go on night hunts anymore, have you thought about that? We'll just sit here and watch the sun set and teach disciples and be boring. We might end up like your uncle. Promise me you won't grow a beard, Lan Zhan, promise me? You'd look handsome with one but I'd never be able to kiss you again, not without thinking of your uncle.”

“We wouldn't want that,” Lan Zhan intones solemnly, but amusement dances in his eyes.

Wei Wuxian squawks. “Of course we wouldn't want that.”

Lan Zhan's laughter is silent, but Wei Wuxian feels the way his chest moves against his back and grins.

They let silence descend upon them, relaxing and serene. Wei Wuxian tugs at Lan Zhan's hand until he relinquishes it to him. He starts fiddling with it, tracing the lines across his palm and measuring the length of his fingers. He tests the way their hands fit together, fitting his fingers between his husband's. Lan Zhan tightens his grip, clasping Wei Ying's hand in his.

“Is it so bad?” Lan Zhan asks him suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Is it so bad to enjoy the peace? To enjoy growing older?”

Wei Wuxian lifts their joined hands up to press a kiss to the back of Lan Zhan's hand. Lifting his other hand, Lan Zhan tilts Wei Ying's face towards his and presses a tender but firm kiss upon his lips.

Wei Wuxian kisses back, then pulls away to tell him, “No, it's not bad at all.”

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch35: Not A Perfect Soldier, But A Good Man.

Summary: Almost twelve moths post the vents in Siberia, the four friends are reunited with two familiar faces. Presented with an opportunity that they find too good to turn down, they find themselves back running missions off radar, one of which takes Steve to a dark place within himself, where he finds himself compromising his moral code.

And then his phone rings…

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words. Mentions of rape/sexual assault.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Wonderful edit again from @angrybirdcr. And make sure you check out the related one shot- Vanilla, which takes place during this timeframe.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 34

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

June 2017

“Well as far as birthdays on the run go guys, this one’s been the best one I’ve ever had!” Katie grinned as they climbed out of their 4x4 at the Safe house.

Steve and Sam exchanged a look over the roof of the car.

“What?” Katie asked, innocently.

“I can’t tell if that was sarcasm or…” Sam looked at Steve before he turned back to Katie pushing his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. “No, honestly guys I’ve had a great morning.” She smiled at them. “Breakfast was amazing, it was a nice walk round the castle, the sun is out and now we have a BBQ to get fired up!”

It was almost a year now since they’d been on the run. After a brief few months apart where Katie and Steve had been in Wakanda, Sam had been flitting round a few old friends and Wanda had been travelling with Vision, they had all reunited at the end of May, Wanda bringing with her some rather interesting news.

“I did find some stuff out.

Apparently Tony hasn’t spoken to Ross properly in months. When you guys broke out the raft, Ross called him for help and he put him on hold for hours.” Katie looked at Steve, both of them sharing a grin.

“It didn’t go down well. They had a huge bust up and apparently Tony told him to err, and I quote ‘go fuck himself’.” Wanda said, smiling slightly. Steve snorted as she continued. “Said he didn’t answer to SHIELD, the Government or anyone else.”

A pang of affection and guilt hit Katie’s chest. Even after everything her brother was still watching her back. She looked down at her food and blinked, the tears threatening to fall out of her eyes.

“He’s err, he and Pepper, they’re getting married.” Wanda hesitated and Katie took a deep breath.

“Wow, he finally did it.” She whispered, not looking up as she pushed a piece of carrot round her plate, swallowing thickly. “That’s…”

“How’s Rhodes?” Sam asked, changing the subject swiftly and Steve gave him a look of thanks across the table, as he gently reached over and wrapped his hand around the back of Katie’ s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze of affection before his thumb gently began to trace shapes on the soft skin just beneath her hair line. She looked at him and smiled.

“I’m okay.” She assured him “Honestly.”

Steve kept his hand were it was nonetheless as Wanda continued talking.

“Rhodey is good, the braces he has mean he can walk.” At that Sam looked down, Steve glanced at him. He knew he felt guilty about what had happened.

“And that’s it really.” Wanda shrugged. “Nothing else to report.”

“Glad to hear everyone’s doing good.” Katie nodded. “So you want to see Vision again?”

“I know it might seem odd, or even dangerous.” Wanda mused, “And we’re still at odds over the Sokovia Accords, but yeah, I do.” “Odds?” Steve asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he still seems to think that the Accords were right. So, we’ve kind of just agreed not to talk about them. But, even with that, well I just can’t be without him.”

“We love who we love.” Steve said wisely, “If we’re lucky they share our feelings as well as our lives.”

“Like you two you mean?” Sam snorted looking at Steve and Katie “You two are so in tune, sometimes I think you’re actually reading each, others minds.” “How do you know we’re not?” Katie grinned and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Like I said, lucky.” Steve shrugged, pressing a kiss to the side of Katie’s head as he moved his arm from around the back of her and carried on with his food.

“No one should keep you from him if that’s how you feel.” Katie looked at Wanda. “That’s the last thing we would ever want.”

“Yeah you go ahead.” Sam snarked, pulling Katie’s attention back to the here and now. “We’ll grab the bags, don’t worry about it.” “Thanks Sam, you’re a darling.” Katie grinned over her shoulder.

Sam sighed and shook his head. “A fucking liberty, that’s what this is! You wanna remind her of those ground rules, Steve.”

“You remind her.” Steve shot back as they watched the two women head unlock the door to the house.

“You scared of your Missus, Pal?”

“Yes.” Steve said simply and Sam laughed, before he turned and opened the trunk of the car.

In the house, Katie walked through the small porch and into the living room and immediately stilled. There was something wrong, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Holding an arm out to Wanda she stopped the younger girl and looked at her. Understanding straight away, Wanda’s familiar red tendrils began glowing from her hands. As Katie looked around, unable to shake the feeling that someone or something was there, her eyes fell on a bottle on the coffee table, a bottle that hadn’t been there when they left this morning.

Beluga gold line vodka.

Katie felt her lips curve into a smile “You can come out now.” She stated simply, not bothering to turn round. “You know, I thought spies were supposed to be subtle.”

“Who says I was trying to be?” A familiar voice drawled, causing Wanda to spin round, her mouth falling open in surprise as Natasha stepped out of the smaller living room at the far side of the house.

Katie turned and looked her friend over. “That why you cut all your hair off and dyed it blonde?”

“Changes is as good as the next.” Nat smirked.

“Good to see you Widow.” Katie beamed, striding over to her and pulling her into a hug.

“You too.” Natasha smiled, squeezing her back. “Happy birthday, Nova.”

Katie released her and Nat turned to Wanda, wrapping her up in a hug too. “I’m telling you man.” Sam’s voice filled the room as he and Steve walked into the house each carrying bags of groceries and snacks for their BBQ “She was putty in my hands. If he hadn’t turned up I’d have-MOTHER FUCKER!” He yelled, dropping the bags he was carrying as he spotted Natasha.

“Nice to see you too, Birdbrain.” She smiled before her face turned to Steve “Rogers.” “Nat?” He blinked in surprise, setting the bags he was carrying down a little more gently than Sam. “Dare I ask how you knew where to find us?” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small, amused smile “Fury.” She shrugged. “Finished the loose ends I needed to tie up and had to make a swift exit, so he told me where you were. Thought I’d come and see how you were all getting along.” “We’re just peachy.” Sam smiled as he stepped forward opening his arms, “Come on not-so-red-anymore, bring it in.” She gave a huff and then stepped into his arms before she turned to Steve who smiled at her as he pulled her into a huge bear hug.

“I like this.” She leaned back, pulling at his beard and he jerked his head way out of her reach, arching an eyebrow at her. What was it with people and thinking they could just touch his face now he had a beard? That was something reserved for his wife and his wife only. Katie laughed, noticing his irritation as Natasha continued. “Hardly recognised you.” “Well that is the point.” He rolled his eyes.

“Are you sticking around?” Sam asked.

“Well I got nothing else to do.” Nat shrugged. Katie and Steve exchanged a grin, her blasé tone didn’t fool them. She looked tired and slightly shaken, so whatever mission she’d been working on had clearly been tough.

“Well in that case…” Katie picked up the bottle of vodka that was on the table. “How about we crack this open whilst the boys get the grill going?”

A couple of hours later they were full of BBQ meat, salads, potatoes, vodka, beer and juicy information. Whilst Natasha didn’t tell them much about what she had been up to in Russia, she did fill them in on what SHIELD was doing.

“They’re calling themselves the ‘In-Human Resistance’.” Natasha explained as she showed them a few photos of the growing Vigilante group on a tablet, a group that seemed to be fast gaining traction in America. “They staged an attack in LA and Miami recently. Both at the same time, co-ordinated.”

“They’re fighting registration with the Sokovia Accords?” Steve asked, taking a pull from his bottle of beer.

Natasha nodded.

“Those damned accords have already caused more trouble than they’re ever gonna solve.” Sam said shaking his head. “First the ‘Watchdogs’ emerge to fight In-Humans, now this group emerge to fight them back.”

“This was always going to happen. SHIELD monitored Enhanced beings and In-humans.” Katie shrugged. “And it worked without the need for any stupid laws.”

”Yeah, so now the plan is that SHIELD are going to go legit. Come out into the open again.”

At that Katie raised her eyebrows. “And Coulson?” “No.” Natasha said, “Coulson will be in the shadows, the public director is going to be a bloke called Jeffrey Mace. He seems a decent guy.” “You know him?” Katie asked.

“Met him briefly. He was at the Accord signings in Vienna as a journalist would you believe it?” “Well he will know how to work the PR angle.” Wanda spoke for the first time in a while and Katie looked at her. She was pushing a piece of potato round on her plate, absentmindedly, no doubt wondering what would happen to her if she ever was caught with all the new rules and hatred being pushed out towards Enhanced or In-humans.

“They’re calling him Patriot.” Natasha said, and she looked at Steve, smirking slightly “Brooklyn boy, just like you Cap. Volunteered for some experiment that would give him super human strength in the wake of the Vienna bombing.” Steve let out a groan “Have SHIELD not learnt anything?”

“You had a lucky escape.” Nat quipped “If you hadn’t been on the run, they’d have been asking you to lead them from the front. Coulson wanted an enhanced person to run in the public eye, drum up support, show the world that they’re not to be feared.” “Nothing more than bullshit, political games.” Sam scoffed, and Natasha raised her eyebrows in agreement.

“Which we, thankfully, are well out of.” Steve leaned back, although Katie could see the nerve ticking in his jaw.

“Are you? Thankful, I mean?” Nat asked and Steve looked at her, frowning. “You not missing being in the thick of it at all?” He didn’t answer. If truth be told he couldn’t, not really. Some days he missed the action, missed having a job to do as such. Whilst he’d helped out occasionally for a bit for cash at the harbour, casual labour and muscle when they needed it, it wasn’t nearly challenging enough.

“What are you saying Nat?” Katie asked. Natasha sighed and leaned back.

“Fury isn’t working as part of SHIELD at the moment, not directly anyway.” She looked at her. “He’s running a few jobs off radar. At the moment he’s currently tracking a few old arms dealers that seem to be back trading old SHIELD and Chitauri stuff. Turns out in the wake of the Avengers being disbanded they all started getting brave again.” “Who’d have thought it?” Katie snorted sarcastically as she chewed at her lip. Steve and her had held this very conversation in Wakanda, wondering how long it would be before the groups they had all but eradicated emerged again in the wake of their split.

“So is that why you’re here?” Steve eyed her suspiciously “Fury wants you to recruit us?” “No.” Nat shook her head, before she smiled at Steve. “He’s going to do that himself when he drops by tomorrow.”

*****

"Why don’t you ask one of the ‘registered heroes’ for help?” Steve raised his eyebrows at Fury as the man finished explaining what he wanted the group to work on.

Fury scoffed. “Whilst SHIELD is of course, in full cooperation with the Accords, this case isn’t exactly on their radar right now.”

“What you mean is, that if it becomes public knowledge that more Chitauri and SHIELD weapons are emerging it will damage what little reputation SHIELD have managed to claw back.” Katie folded her arms. “Because they shouldn’t have ever let it get to this because you should have gotten rid of it all in the first place.”

“Look, Nova.” Fury was quick to reply. "I don’t like this any more than you do, and yes, in hindsight there are a lot of things that SHIELD should have destroyed or shut down back in the day, but I wasn’t the only one making those calls. Pierce had a lot of sway.”

“So effectively you want us to protect SHIELD’s reputation?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Why should we do that?” Wanda asked, looking at Fury “Where were you when we needed you?”

“She has a point.” Sam looked at Fury “I mean, I don’t remember SHIELD jumping to our defence after we risked everything to get to Siberia.”

Fury looked at Steve who simply raised his eyebrows. Both he and Katie agreed with Sam, they had expected at least some help from the Director but it never came.

Or so they thought.

“Just who do you think it was that leaked to the press exactly what went down between you all?” Fury asked, leaning back in his chair. Katie felt her mouth curl up in a smile.

“That was you? Huh, I assumed it was Murdock.” “Well to assume makes an ass of you and me.” Fury quipped, looking at her. “Furthermore, thanks to me there’s currently a group of bounty-hunters sweating their asses off looking for you all in Cairo.”

Steve and Katie exchanged glances before they looked at Sam then Wanda.

“And I’ll continue to help leave false trails as I still believe in you all.” Fury looked at them each in turn “The Accords, this entire situation, yes, it’s a mess but I’m still hoping you guys care enough to want to keep fighting the good fight.”

Katie glanced at Natasha who had remained quiet through the entire discussion. She simply raised an eyebrow and gave a small smile.

“Think about it.” Fury stood up. “Romanoff knows how to contact me. When you’ve made your decision, let me know.”

He headed for the door before he turned back and looked at Katie.

“Oh, and Nova, that final trick you pulled, hacking into the CTU. It worked.”

Katie smiled and gave a small ‘huh’ of laughter and watched the man depart through the same door he’d arrived little over an hour previously.

“Okay, colour me intrigued, what did you hack the UN for?” Natasha looked at Katie and Steve tilted his head as his wife gave a coy smile.

“Technically it was Lawson. When he was digging up the information on the illegal arrests I had him wipe all the records of who accessed their evidence vault when all our gear got broken so Sharron didn’t get into trouble.”

Steve’s mouth quirked up into a small smile as he looked at his wife, once again unable to believe how downright clever she was.

“Wait.” Wanda said, frowning “Why did you do that?” “She’s a Carter.” Katie shrugged as if that was supposed to make sense. And it did to Steve and Natasha but as Sam and Wanda looked at her blankly she took a deep breath and explained “After everything Peggy did in the SSR, founding SHIELD, working with my dad, she deserves for her name and legacy to remain unsullied.”

She locked eyes with Steve who could do nothing but simply look at her, his face soft before he smiled “You really are amazing you know that?”

After an afternoon spent deliberating over Fury’s proposal, Steve told them all to sleep on it and they would make their final decision in the morning, but as he found out at three am, sleep was doing it’s very best to evade him completely.

“Something on your mind, Soldier?” Katie murmured sleepily as he turned over in bed for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes. With a sigh he reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to wake you.” he said. “I just can’t get what Fury said outta my head.” “And even after I tried my best to make you forget as well.” she quipped and he smiled, leaning over to give her a soft kiss. She gave a soft hmmm of contentment before he pulled away and propped himself up on his elbow

"What do you think we should do?”

“Well, we could ignore it, keep laying low.” she elaborated, with a small yawn “But I know you. And whilst you’ve managed it for a year it hasn’t been easy, and don’t try and pretend you’ve been okay because I know you Steven.” He gave a small snort and looked at her as she continued “And now you know that there’s still stuff to mop up, you’re gonna find it even harder to walk away.”

"I would for you. You know that.”

“But is that what you really want?” she sighed. “Not particularly, no.” he answered honestly. “I want to help but, well, I’m no longer Captain America.”

"Meh, he was an asshole anyway.” she grinned and he gave a snort. “But you ARE Steve Rogers, the, and I quote your best friend here ‘dumbass little blonde punk that couldn’t run away from a fight.” Steve felt himself smile at Bucky’s words. “Long before the serum and the shield, you were standing up for the little guys, for what you thought was right. Okay, you were getting your ass kicked doing it, but still.”

She shrugged and Steve looked down at the silhouette of her face, and he knew she was right. He brought his hand up and with the back of his fingers gently brushed down her right cheek.

“And you’d be okay with it?” he asked.

“Well, neither of us left the Avengers because we wanted to. So until this blows over…” “If it blows over.” “Steven.” she spoke sternly, and he could tell by the tone of her voice she was glaring at him, even if he couldn’t see her face fully. She was still clinging to some hope that the entire situation would go away, whereas Steve was much more a realist about it all. “Until this blows over, then, maybe we could, or should keep fighting the good fight. Because that’s what we do best.”

“A band of vigilantes, huh?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Or if we’re getting paid are we mercenaries?”

“Pretty sure mercenaries don’t have ethics behind what they’re doing.” Katie snorted “No, we’ll be, erm, the ‘Nomad Law Enforcers’, NLE for short” she shrugged and he let out a laugh.

As his chuckles died down she gently reached up to stroke his face, his bearded cheek leaning into her touch.

“So, does that mean my new code name is Captain Badass?” He asked, his hand straying down to brush across her bare stomach. “No” She smiled, twitching at the touch “That’s a name only I get to say. Along with Stevie.” “Hate to break it to you, Darlin’ but Buck was calling me Stevie way before you were a twinkle in your pa’s eyes.” he said, his fingers now trailing the inside of her thigh. “Maybe so,” she snaked her arms round his neck and pulling his face down to hers, “but did he ever say it to you like I do, you know, in your ear as I’m about to c-”

“Err no.” he grinned, kissing her on the lips “That one’s all yours, doll.”

“Think you should make me say it now.” she quipped.

“As you wish, ma’am.” he smirked, rolling over on top of her, making her giggle before he cut her off by pressing his lips to hers in a fevered kiss.

The next morning around breakfast they informed the rest of the team what their decision was. Natasha shrugged and said she was in already anyway. Wanda agreed as she had nothing else to do but in the same breath Katie could tell she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea, so Steve told her that she could dip in and out and didn’t have to do anything she wasn’t happy about. When the only decision left was Sam’s, the man leaned back in his chair with a smirk and nodded. And whilst Steve thought the name Katie had come up with last night for their band of rag-tag heroes was ridiculous, it was ten times better than the offering Sam made.

“The Avengers Secret Society. ASS.” He grinned, draining his coffee mug. “Hell, I’m in. Where do I sign?”

******

Running the missions meant a lot of stealth and covert work, which in turn meant they had to leave the safe house they had called home for over a year for long periods, often months at a time. During those weeks they stayed either in motels or other safe houses which Fury or Natasha had access to in various places across the world as they intercepted various arms trades and took down both buyers and dealers alike. The rest of 2017 past them by in a blur now they were busy. Wanda dipped in and out, choosing sometimes to remain in the safe-house and others she would disappear to meet Vision but always kept them up to date on where she was so they could keep tracks on her. Katie was glad she was getting out and seeing the world, even if she did worry about her from time to time.

As far as lifestyles went, it was tough, hard going, but Katie could see Steve’s sparkle and drive was back in abundance. For the most the missions went without a hitch. Yes, they took knocks, broken noses, cut lips, bust ribs…but it came with the territory, and they all felt good to be back feeling like they were making a difference even if they were doing it unofficially from the shadows. And given that they were indeed vigilantes, they all removed any Avengers symbols from their suits to avoid Tony or the guys back at the compound being dragged into any further political row.

Katie and Natasha ditched their Avenger cat suits entirely, opting for leather cargo pants, jackets and combat vests whilst Sam acquired a new upper body suit for his now battered but sill functional wings. Steve had ripped the star on his uniform from his chest, which was down to a combination of wanting to stay off radar but also because of the fact that he simply wasn’t Captain America anymore, and therefore wasn’t comfortable bearing his insignia. It just didn’t feel right to be operating wearing the symbols once used when they were part of their old team. They were a painful reminder of just what it was that had brought them to this moment, how much they had lost and given up because they were not the Avengers anymore. And this also reflected in the way they operated. They were a lot less sympathetic with their fighting style and they did what they needed to do to get the job done, no more, no less- “Whatever it takes…” as Steve put it. And whilst the Captain still did his best to keep the casualties and fatalities to the minimum, that went completely out of the window one February morning in Jordan.

They were tracking a suspected group of ex- Hydra stragglers that were, according to Fury’s intelligence, operating a lab with the aim of using a piece of SHIELD technology to manufacture weapons. They’d staked the place out over the last three days or so, and from what they could gather it was a pretty amateur operation all in all, so they didn’t meet much resistance when they stormed the place. Sam and Natasha took one side of the building, Steve and Katie the other. It didn’t take them long to clear out and restrain the hostiles and they set about sweeping the place for any devices they needed to recover before Natasha made her way down to the lab to lay the bombs that would destroy it once everyone was clear.

Steve and Katie made their way down a smaller corridor of the back of the main room whilst Sam and Natasha started to pack up the items they had come for and they reached a fork at the end. Katie went left, Steve went right. He hit a dead end pretty quickly, there only being one more room and that was completely empty. Katie, however had three rooms to look in. The first two were empty, and the third one led off to another smaller room at the back. Scanning round, she assumed the room was clear and headed through into the smaller one, kicking the door open. There was nothing in there bar filing cabinets. Seeing as she was there, she started to pull them open to see if there was anything useful, but it was all older paper work, nothing of interest. Slamming the drawer shut she heard a noise behind her, the cock of a gun and then a voice which made her freeze.

“Back for more you little SHIELD slut?”

That voice took her right back to that painfully bright cell with the hard bed, and the even harder floor.

“You like that don’t you, yeah?” His face was contorted as he grunted whilst he pounded painfully, mercilessly into her over and over again, her wrists painfully held above her head, his weight pressing onto her battered and bruised body which he had played a major part in beating before having joined in the kicking and stamping with glee. “God, she’s so fuckin’ tight…”

She spun round to look at the man who had violated her numerous times, his face exactly the same, wearing the same predatory sneer. Her fists clenched at her side as she weighed up her options, she could probably take him now, even with the gun.

But she hesitated too long.

Her rapist smirked as he raised the gun, keeping it trained on her as he took half a step forward and automatically she moved backwards, her body pressing against the metal of the filing cabinet.

“What? Still no scream?” He chuckled. “You know, we used to have a competition, see which one of us would be the one that made you finally break. But, I gotta hand it to you, you never made a sound. Frankly, it kind of became a bit boring. I’ve had better lays from my palm.” It was then that Katie noticed a movement behind him and looked over his shoulder to see Steve stood in the doorway with a look on his face that Katie had never seen before. Unadulterated anger, rage and fury radiated from every single bit of his body as he stared at the back of the man’s head, his lips curling up into an ugly sneer, a flash of white teeth glinting in the dim white from beneath his beard. “Whatever happens tomorrow you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.”

Steve remembered those words like Dr Erskine had spoken them just yesterday. And for the most part he had lived by them, trying every day to be a man that people could look up to. Years of loss and grief and fighting had made it hard but he had never killed in cold blood and, if possible he always went for the non-fatal take downs. But now, as he heard the words the man in front of him said to his wife as she stood, pressed against the cabinet at the far wall, her chest heaving, eyes wide with a hatred so fierce but yet an unmistakable glimmer of fear underneath it all, he knew exactly who this guy was.

This was one of the animals that had violated her.

And he wanted to kill the fucker.

At the sight of her husband Katie instantly relaxed, she was safe. There was nothing the bastard in front of her could do to her, not whilst Steve was there. The man saw her change in posture, and frowned as she looked back at him and smirked slightly.

“You want a fight, it’s your lucky day, although I don’t fancy your chances much.”

She nodded behind her and the man wheeled round fast but he didn’t’ even get chance to point his gun at Steve before the Super Soldier’s fist connected hard with his face, knocking out his front teeth. He staggered backwards and Katie was waiting with a well- aimed leg swipe which sent him crashing to the floor. As he went to push himself up Steve brought his large, boot clad foot down and stomped with all his might on his left hand.

”They broke my fingers and took my rings…” Katie’s voice echoed around his mind as he stamped again, and again before he picked the HYDRA agent up by the collar and smashed his head straight onto the desk.

The man lay groaning in pain on the floor, spitting out blood as he pitifully begged for mercy and Steve allowed him to crawl a few feet away before he kicked him hard in the ribs, stalking him, toying with him, as a cat does with its prey. But like all cats, eventually Steve got bored and hauled him back up again. He spun the snivelling piece of shit round so his back was clamped to his chest, one large forearm over the guy’s throat, palm of the other hand clamped his forehead, pinning him in place and forcing him to look at Katie for no reason other than the fact he wanted her face to be the last thing the bastard’s shitty, Hydra supporting eyes ever looked at.

All the anger Steve felt at how they had abused his wife, his beautiful girl, speared red hot inside him as he remembered the state she’d been in when they’d picked her up. How long it had taken her to heal physically. And all those nights he had held her close after she woke from a nightmare. He’d sworn to himself he would die before he let anyone hurt her again.

“She told me you did to her.” Steve’s voice was steely, as he spoke into the man’s ear. “You abused her, tortured her, beat her and laughed about it. But now who’s laughing? Look how alive she is, how beautiful and strong she is. How she survived, which is more than you’re gonna do.”

At those words the man, who was groaning to himself began to struggle again, begging for his life. Steve merely tightened his grip.

“I want you to know that you dying is simply because of what you did to my wife. So fuck HYDRA and fuck you.” He snarled, and with a quick, savage twist of his arms, Katie heard the snap and the man grew limp, his neck broken in one, easy movement.

Steve tossed the dead man unceremoniously to the floor, his chest heaving as he looked down at the body on the floor. He’d just killed someone in cold blood. And he didn’t care one single bit.

Katie watched her husband as he looked down at the dead man, utter disgust on his face and she felt a ridiculous surge of affection for her soldier. She knew he’d grappled with the fact he had, in his opinion, failed to keep her safe and, no matter how many times she told him he was ridiculous, she would never convince him otherwise. He’d just abandoned all moral code he had, killing someone out of no reason but the desire for revenge because he loved her.

He loved her enough to kill someone that had hurt her. As she watched, Steve raised his head to look at her. "You okay?” He asked, his voice full of concern, not a shred of the anger or hatred it had been filled with before was left. She nodded.

“Come on.” He held out his hand. She stepped over the body on the floor, laced her fingers into his, but they hadn’t even reached the door of the outer room they’d walked through when she pulled on his arm and as he turned to face her, she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to her, furiously kissing him, teeth clashing, beard scratching-fuck she loved the feel of that- as she emptied every single emotion she was feeling into his mouth. She pulled away and rest her head against his, desire flooding her system, some dark inner part of her had awoken at his merciless persona and he spotted it, a curious tilt of his head to the side told her so much. “Steve, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m filing for divorce.” He arched an eyebrow “Divorces are messy, we can’t have that.” and the words were barely out of his mouth before he had spun her round, slamming her against the wall, kissing her hard again, groaning as she grasped his growing erection through his combat trousers.

“Right here?” He growled and she nodded eagerly, already fumbling with his utility belt. The clanging of buckles, zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric filled the air as they both shed the minimum amount of clothing they needed to so that Katie could wrap her legs around Steve’s waist as he lifted her up by the back of her thighs, pressing her against the wall whilst he continued to kiss her neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to. He didn’t waste any time before he thrust up into her hard, making her cry out.

It was almost depraved, them fucking with a dead body in the room next to them, but neither of them cared, they were too caught up in a whirlwind of lust and emotions that enveloped them completely. Steve’s hips snapped back and forth with a pace and a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of her again and again. Her palms were scrabbling at the wall behind her trying to gain some traction and Steve quickly pushed further against her to give her more support so she could move her hands round his shoulders, where she clawed desperately at the material of his uniform as her head fell forward and her teeth nipped at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Her hands moved into his long hair, where she pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up her and the pupils of her eyes were blown wide with a desire he would never tire of seeing. She pushed her hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and she let out an almost primal cry he had never, in their almost five years of being together, heard her make before. It simply revved him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck, Stevie,” she moaned, her head rolling back against the wall as her hands clamped onto his shoulders as she started to feel that snake in her belly moving. He felt the tell-tale flutter of her clamping around him and he continued his voracious pace until she cried out, a loud scream before she dropped her head to his shoulder, as she moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through her orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Katie! I’m…fuck!” his words tumbled into her hair as his movements became desperate and he came with such a force that he felt his knees buckling underneath him and even his super strength wasn’t enough to keep him upright, the absolute gratification he felt was just too much. He caught her as the pair of them collapsed to the dirty concrete floor, her on top of him, a tangle of clothing and limbs, chests heaving, sweat on both their brows as he held her to him, panting and shaking. Neither of them had any idea how long they stayed like that, but eventually Steve managed to gain enough control to sit them both upright, his wife on his lap has he gently brushed the tendrils of hair that had fallen over her face back, and looked at her, his lips gently greeting hers in a soft, tender kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones they had shared moments before. She smiled at him, unadulterated love in her eyes as she moved her hands to brush his hair back before she leaned down and kissed him again, before her nose slide against his.

“I adore you.” She whispered softly, and he pulled her to him, nuzzling into her neck as he sighed.

“Feeling is mutual, Doll” He murmured, causing her to chuckle before they heard a noise in both their ears.

“Yeah, erm, you do realise your coms were on. That whole time.” Sam’s tone was laced with dismay. “Erm yep, so we errr, we heard everything.”

Steve felt himself grow cold and he let out a soft groan of utter embarrassment into Katie’s neck

“Most excitement Sammy’s had in years.” Natasha quipped

Katie on the other hand, instead of shrinking with humiliation, threw back her head and laughed, and when Steve looked up at her, unsure exactly what she found so funny about it all, he saw her just fucked pink flush, her eyes which were practically crinkled shut in mirth, her perfect teeth surrounding by those plump lips he could kiss all day, and that freckle spattered nose which was wrinkled as she continued to howl with amusement.

And right then he didn’t care what Sam and Natasha had heard, because frankly, seeing her like that was worth whatever digs and snarky comments that were going to get their way.

******

April 2018

“Huh…” Nat mused as they entered the dilapidated house, her and Katie pulling off their hoods and masks “Guess my old KGB contacts can pull through in a pinch.”

“We should move fast.” Steve looked at the door to the small, market stall lined street outside “Won’t take long for them to notice something is wrong.”

“I’ll keep watch.” Katie nodded, peering out through the crack in the door into the dusty, desert air as Natasha examined the gun she was holding.

“Definitely Chitauri. Although they’ve been heavily modified.”

Natasha effortlessly deactivated the weapons and they worked quickly and efficiently packing them into the crates ready to take them to the outskirts of the city to the drop point.

“You reckon we’ve earned a break after these ones?” Sam asked, as they began to load the heavy crates onto the back of the truck. Steve smiled as he looked at Sam. They’d been on back to back missions pretty much since New Year so far, the latest of which had brought Steve back to a very familiar market place in Yemen, one he had swore he would never come back to after the last time he’d run an op here. It was hot, dusty, and he had to admit to himself (because he would never admit it to anyone else) he was ready for a break.

“Yeah I think Wanda had the right idea.” Katie mumbled. She wasn’t feeling all that great if truth be told. She’d woken up a few days ago with a dodgy stomach after what she suspected was bad chicken, and it was taking her a while to shake it off.

They made the drop and headed back to the jet where Katie grabbed another bottle of water and sank into one of the chairs, almost draining it in one. After a few breaths, the queasiness she had been feeling all the drive back to the jet dissipated somewhat and she lay her head back, closing her eyes.

Steve passed his wife, his hand gently running over her hair as she leaned back to take a nap. He knew she wasn’t feeling great but she’d assured him it was nothing serious. Steve was pleased to note that she looked better than she had done a few days ago, there was more colour in her cheeks, so hopefully she was over the worst of it.

Sam got them airborne and set the coordinates for the Safe House, and Steve found himself looking forward to getting back after almost five weeks away. The jet was pretty much silent for a few hours, Steve at one point switching out with Sam to allow him to get some rest too. That last mission had been a hard one, but worth it.

“Have either of you heard from Wanda?” Natasha asked a little while later, as she looked up from the tablet she was poking about on.

Steve shook his head as did Sam. Natasha let out a growl. “She’s deactivated the tracker on her phone. I warned her about that last time.”

“She isn’t a prisoner Nat.” Steve raised his eyebrows, looking over at Katie who was still sleeping. “She knows the risks. She’s been doing it on and off for the last two years.”

“I get that, but we don’t know where she is.”

“Look, we should be back at the safe house in what, an hour or so? Let’s wait and see if she’s there.” Steve suggested. “If we don’t hear from her by the morning, then we’ll worry.”

Nat opened her mouth to argue back but Steve shot her his infamous captain glare, signalling the debate was over. She shrugged.

“On your head be it.” She said, nonchalantly before completely changing the subject. “Fury’s patched through a new target- another Terrorist Sect grouping for an attack he suspects.”

“Where is it this time?” Sam called from the cockpit.

“Columbia” Natasha answered.

“Alright,” Steve nodded. “We’ll take a proper look at it once we’re back at the Safe House”

At that point. Katie gave a soft murmur as she stretched out her limbs, opening one eye blearily, then the other. She blinked and Steve stood up, heading over to her.

“Hey, sleepy.” He smiled, dropping a soft kiss to her temple as he crouched down in front of her. “You sure you’re okay?”

Katie at her husband, his handsome face sported a few more lines than it had done this time two years ago, and the spectacular beard he had sported hid his jawline, but his eyes never changed, and here they were so full of concern and love over something so minor as an upset stomach that it almost made her laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled. “I feel much better now.” Which she did. The funny feeling in her stomach and fuzziness in her head was well gone.

Before Steve could say anything else, Sam called his name and he glanced round as he straightened up and looked at the screen on the cockpit.

“Cap, I’m getting a report, some kind of ship”

“Where?” Steve asked as the pair of us turned to face him.

“Seems to be over the mainland UK of all places.” Sam frowned “It’s not much, but it’s big for sure. We’re not far out, fancy a slight detour on the way home, see what it is?”

Before he could answer, Nat strode to the middle of the jet, tablet in her hand.

“You need to see this.”

She swiped at the screen and the footage she was referring to appeared on the hologram display. Katie watched a familiar red and gold figure speeding through the air over the familiar back drop of down-town New York, tangling with, well, she wasn’t sure what the hell they were.

“Oh my God.” she muttered, as she read the tag line playing across the bottom of the news report- New York attacked.

The four of them paused as more footage showed the kid known as Spider-Man swinging through the air, and two other men, one with a long, crimson cloak, all facing off against two foes.

“When did this happen?” Steve asked eventually, looking at Nat

“15 minutes or so ago.”

Steve didn’t say anything, instead he moved to the locker at the back of the jet, and taking a deep breath, he pulled out his half of the pair of burner phones he had gotten from T’Challa almost two years ago. Stark’s technology still, after all these years, amazed him. An amplified booster on all the jets he owned made it possible to for a mobile phone to continue working whilst in the air. He glanced up at Katie, before flipping open the phone and then all four of them stopped dead as it began to ring before Steve had the chance to even dial.

“Stark?” His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he asked the question, even though there was no one else with that number…

“Steve, hi, it’s Bruce. It’s err, been a while.”

Steve paused his eyes widening at the surprise at hearing his onetime team mate. “Yeah, yeah it has,” was all he could say. “Listen, there’s not a lot of time to explain but something big, someone big to be exact, is coming, and they’re after Vision.” “Vision?” Steve paused, standing still where he had been pacing unknowingly.

“For the Stone.” Bruce continued. “He’s turned off his transponder so we can’t track him, but Tony…” Bruce took a deep voice and Steve glanced up at Katie who was watching him intently. “Tony went after the ship, Cap, he’s on the ship, heading out to space, but before it all started he was about to call you. He said that you might be able to find Vision. And we need to, we need to before they do. You got any idea where he is?”

Steve listened to Bruce’s rambles, a million and one questions were whirring round his head, but there was no time for that. If this was as big an issue as he said, they had to find Vision. And right now, he would hazard a guess that he was wherever that huge ship over the UK was.

“I don’t know for sure, but I have a pretty good idea.” He sighed.

“You need to get him before they do Steve, and I mean it. This is the biggest threat we’ve ever faced. This guy, well even Thor couldn’t stop him.”

Now that really did worry him, but again there was time to think about that later. “Leave it with us.” he said gently, before he closed the phone and stuck it into his pocket.

“What is it?” Katie asked, “Was that Tony?”

Ignoring her, Steve strode to the front of the jet and spoke to Sam. “That reading. Can you get a lock on it?”

“Piece of cake”

“Get us there, fast.” Steve instructed. Sam nodded to show he had understood.

Steve looked back at Natasha and Katie as his wife crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation, not impressed with being ignored.

“Whatever is on that Ship, chances are they’re looking for Vision.” Steve said simply “They want the stone in his head.”

“Wanda…” Nat muttered gently, as she hurried to the front of the jet.

Katie’s eyes however went back on the footage of the spinning space ship above the city they once called home.

“Steve.” She said eventually “Tell me please, how was he?”

“Sweetheart, it wasn’t Tony.” Steve replied, his voice low as he looked up at the cockpit. Natasha and Sam were busy flicking switches. “It was Banner”

“Banner?” she frowned “But what? I mean how?” “I don’t know but he said that Tony had go-…”

“We got it, Cap.” Sam interrupted. “Just over Edinburgh, I’ve locked in the route, we should be wheels down in ten.”

Steve nodded and then turned back to Katie as she carried on speaking.

“What about Tony?” she pressed.

Steve opened his mouth to answer but he stopped, his eyes falling onto the footage, still playing on the hollovision. Katie followed his gaze, the next line across the bottom answered her question.

Billionaire Tony Stark missing.

Katie couldn’t find any words to say. Instead she felt her breathing deepen and she swallowed thickly staring at the footage. Missing? Like, kidnapped? Missing in Action, missing presumed dead…a thousand and one thoughts began running through her head, all of them coming back to the last time they had seen one another, the harsh exchange of words and him telling her he was ashamed of her before she left him in that cold bunker in Siberia.

Steve’s hand dropped onto his wife’s shoulder as he noticed her lip was beginning to wobble.

“We get Vision and then we work on finding him.” He assured her gently, looking at Katie who looked up at him.

“We best hope we find him.” She swallowed again before she looked down at her hands. “Because if worst comes to worst and the last time we spoke to each other was when we parted on such bad terms, I’ll never forgive myself Steve.”

**** O/S: Vanilla

Chapter 36 Part 1

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu fanfic #mcu #chris evans #chris evans characters

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oreoambitions · 4 years ago

Text

Part 8 of 12

Parts 1-3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 5.5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Ao3

Lena sits in the passenger seat of her own car with the window rolled down, listening to some old tune from the 60's tumbling so softly out of the speakers she almost can't quite catch it. The forest passes by at a pace that would feel unbearably slow if she were the one behind the wheel. Which, of course, is precisely why she isn't.

Alex has gone after Kara. That much was inevitable the moment Kara left the wedding ceremony, the moment Sam's arms closed around Lena to hold her up, the moment Clark cocked his head to one side and announced quietly that Kara was in the air. Not just storming off then; good and properly leaving. Alex was grim faced and apologetic and lingered just long enough to be sure that Lena was going to be okay.

"I'm fine," Lena said what felt like a hundred thousand times.

"You're not," Sam replied, faithfully, tirelessly.

And Lena wasn't. But it didn't feel like there was any reason to talk about it.

Nia stayed behind to make sure everything was in order at the cabin before checkout in the morning. Sam went with Alex, and that felt inevitable too. She claimed it was for Alex's comfort, but Lena recognized the telltale signs of upset in the set of Sam's shoulders, in the crease of her brow, and she knew that in truth it was the other way around. Sam and Kara have grown close these past few months; the sudden rift between the two of them is painful for Sam and Lena knows it.

But Sam wouldn't have gone if it'd meant leaving Lena alone, which is how Lena has come to be seated beside a pensive Clark, traveling at precisely the speed limit down a winding mountain road, headed for home.

Clark drums his fingers on the steering wheel, not quite in time with the music, his gaze lingering on Lena for long enough that she'd be snapping at him to keep his eyes on the road if he were anyone else. Lena turns her face into the wind and fidgets in silence.

"Kara..." Clark begins. He drums his fingers over the steering wheel again. It's been half an hour of empty, tense quiet between the two of them, and Lena can't fathom why they're deviating from that uncomfortable but predictable norm now. "She's a very religious person," Clark says.

The single, soft note of laughter that comes out of Lena surprises them both. "I know," she replies. How could she not know something like that? Something as inherent to Kara as blonde hair and blue eyes and a kindness deeper than the sea.

"On Krypton we believed that speech itself was a gift from Rao, that the language itself was sacred."

Lena knows this too, wonders idly whether Krpyton always had one language or if there's an unspoken history of conquest there, says nothing as they trundle across an old single lane bridge over a ravine that might once have been a river, might be a river again when the drought passes.

Clark is still speaking. "There's no hard and fast rule about sharing the Book of Rao with the uninitiated - all of Krypton was initiated, you understand, so there was no need for a rule - but there was always a certain guardedness about it around alien visitors, even back then. And now that Argo is the last bastion of our civilization, folks are feeling more guarded than before. The sacred texts were Rao's gift to us. There was a big debate among the council about whether even Sam and Ruby should be taught, as outsiders."

"Was there a big debate about you?" The words are out of Lena's mouth before she can really think about them. Clark glances at her sideways and she looks away.

"The House of El is an important noble family," he says at last. His voice sounds tired.

"I remember. That's why they want Kara to marry that boy from Argo."

"Wanted. She belongs to you now; nothing they can do about that."

Lena shivers in spite of herself. She runs her thumb thoughtfully over her wedding bracelet, rolls the broken thread between her fingers. Mixed in with the guilt and the sadness is a streak of satisfaction: no one on Argo can force Kara to leave Earth behind now, and no one can force her to marry a stranger. She tries not to wonder whether Kara considers being bound to her just as distasteful.

"She doesn't think I understood what I said to her at the ceremony. What I was doing," Lena says. It isn't a question but she still hopes Clark will answer her, will tell her that she's wrong, will provide some other explanation. She's disappointed when he remains silent. "She thinks I copied her traditions out of a book as a silly... as an aesthetic. She thinks I played dress-up with something sacred, and she blames Sam."

Clark glances at her again. "But you didn't. I would have put a stop to this days ago if I'd thought you were taking this any less seriously than Kara."

"But Kara doesn't know that."

"She doesn't," Clark agrees. And then, "I'm sorry. I know how Kara feels about the Book, and maybe I should have warned you off. But I thought... I thought she would see how you felt about her, and it would ease things."

Lena's stomach flips. She runs her thumb over the wedding band again, her eyes far away. The woods are fading now. Soon it will be the hills, and then the suburbs, and then the city. The everyday bustle of the corporate world will assert itself and Lena will have to be able to set this all aside, to sweep it into the corners of her life where it isn't in the way. As if Kara could ever be in the way. As if Lena could ever move a feeling as heavy as this out of center stage. She has a feeling she's going to do a lot of drinking tonight.

"I'm going to prove to her that I meant those vows," she says. It's her turn to glance at Clark then, gauging his reaction. To her surprise, there's the ghost of a smile across his lips.

"Of course," he replies. "I wouldn't expect anything less. If you- Kara describes you as a very thorough person; you've never given me reason to believe otherwise."

Lena inclines her head. You have to be thorough to survive Lilian and Lex; loose strings tend to become weapons in their hands. She fiddles with the all too real loose string on her wrist. "Do I do something with this?"

"What? No. That- You can just throw that away. Any thorough understanding of a topic must be grounded in context. To take something out of its context is to risk subverting its meaning." He drums his fingers across the steering wheel again, and Lena tries not to squirm, tries not to anticipate where this is going. "We're not an evangelical people; you can't convert someone to our religion; you were either born in the light of Rao or you weren't."

Lena raises her eyebrows. "No one is born in the light of Rao anymore. What does that mean for your religion?"

Clark opens his mouth as if to answer, frowns, closes it again. "That's a terrifying thought and a conversation for another time. What I'm trying to say is there's no rule against giving you the Book of Rao just as there's no precedent for it. So if you'd like a copy... Sam would have to help you read it, or I could, if you'd be comfortable. But-"

"It should be Kara," Lena interrupts.

"Sorry?"

"If I ever read the Book of Rao, it should be with Kara. To do otherwise feels... It feels like going behind her back." There's a long silence between them, and then Lena adds, "But I would love to have a copy. For when she's ready. Thank you."

"Of course. You're family; the Book belongs to you as much as it does to me, if you want it."

Lena turns the word 'family' over in her mind. She tugs the thread from her wedding band, balls it up between her fingers, tucks it into the handle pocket of the passenger's side door. Loose ends. "We've never talked about the history between your family and mine."

Clark doesn't glance at her this time. He keeps his eyes firmly on the road, his jaw set, and Lena wonders which of a thousand awful encounters with Lex he's recalling now. And then he takes a deep breath and the tension bleeds from his expression. "We don't have to talk about it," he says. "Kara made it clear a long time ago that you weren't like the others. And I know we still have a long road ahead of us getting to know one another, but Lena, I don't see Lex when I look at you."

"Thank you," Lena whispers.

Clark reaches over to squeeze her shoulder. "And there is no 'your family and mine' anymore. I mean it. Kara and I are the same blood. You and Kara are the same blood. By the transitive property..."

"A = C," Lena says, chuckling to cover the lump that has suddenly risen in her throat. "Thank you for the refresher on elementary algebra."

"Just doing my part," Clark says with a chuckle of his own. The forest has become shrubbery, the hills rising deep and gold around them, dotted here and there with wildflowers. "She loves you, you know," Clark says. As though it were a simple thing. As though he were commenting on the weather.

Lena reaches for the stereo to turn up a song she doesn't recognize. "This one is one of my favorites," she tells him, her voice breaking just a little, and she turns her face again into the wind. That ghost of a smile flickers across Clark's features, and he clicks the volume up a few ticks higher.

#sorry this is a little late #it took a minute to get it right #Fake Marriage AU #Supergirl #Supercorp #Kara Danvers #Kara Zor El #Lena Luthor #Lena Kar El #Supergirl fic #Ficlet

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

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After Midnight pt. 1 (Feysand)

Synopsis: After a tumultuous, heartbreaking relationship, Feyre Archeron turns to online dating for a break from normalcy. Or rather, to Velaris Nighttime Ventures, the most exclusive, high-dollar escort system around. She needs to ease back in to intimacy, so this seems like the perfect idea. But what happens when her escort turns out to be someone she can’t get out of her head? Someone who seems to understand and appreciate everything about her?

My many disclaimers: Stole a line in here from The Hating Game. And one from ACOTAR obviously. And the story line is loosely based off of The Kiss Quotient. Basically, I’m a fraud.

__________________________________________________________

~Feyre~

If I told any of my friends I’m about to hire a hooker, they’d laugh themselves silly.

And, to be honest, the idea is a little ridiculous to me, too.

I’ve never had a problem getting a date in my life. Brownish blondeish hair, blue-gray eyes, and an athletic build give me slightly above average looks. A lucrative job makes me financially sound and independent. A lifetime with two sisters gave me a sense of humor.

I’ve dated prom kings, nerds, and everything in between. I’m completely normal.

Or at least I used to be.

After everything that happened last year, I don’t know if that’s true anymore.

My therapist tells me constantly it’s okay that my last relationship changed me. And the multiple degrees on her pretty green wall tell me she knows what she’s talking about and that she’s completely correct.

Even if... even if it doesn’t feel okay.

Even if I can hardly stand looking in a mirror or being hugged or someone giving me a compliment.

Even if I haven’t felt like myself in so long, I don’t even know if I’d recognize it if i did.

Because while I used to love putting makeup on, choosing a dress, and going out, the thought now fills me with so much dread it makes me nauseous.

What if I just make the same mistake as last time?

My sister's told me my whole life to guard my heart, but I always laughed it off and said she was being cynical. And what do I have to prove it? Trust issues and a standing appointment Dr. Motley.

Men don’t deserve my trust. At least not right now.

But... it’s time to move on in the physical sense.

And since running the risk of taking home the wrong man scares me shitless, I’ll start with someone who can’t reject me, can’t make me feel worthless.

Someone who won’t develop feelings for me or get attached and demanding. Someone... who won’t mind giving me control.

A hooker.

Or escort, like the Velaris Nighttime Ventures website says as I scroll through pages and pages of profiles.

Gods, this is more stressful than my first gallery opening.

All the profiles include is a picture, probably-fake name, height, an age, and a simple sentence about them.

It feels creepily similar to online shopping. And there are so, so many options. How the heck am I going to choose one?

Scrolling down further, my eyes roam over men of every skin tone, age, and height. I don’t have any real preference, but decide I need to have a few ground rules, otherwise this will take forever.

Age? I’m twenty-seven and don’t have an interest in being a cougar, so I set the range from twenty-eight to thirty-five.

Height? At 5′6, I’m not exactly tall, but I’ve always found men who were more attractive, so I shrug and put the minimum at six feet.

Pressing enter, I watch the website sort, then look at the number of men left. Thirty. Not bad.

Scrolling through slowly, I realize it’s kind of like a yearbook for an all male college or something.

A college full of really sexy men.

I pause on a few, but something about them make her keep going. I want the complete opposite of my ex, so any with features like him get eliminated.

Eventually, I get to the last row, feeling a little dejected.

But then I see him.

His eyes seemed to pierce through the screen, and once I see him, I can’t look away. Without another thought, I click on the profile.

The name under the picture reads Rhysand. No last name, probably for privacy purposes. He’s a few years older than me. And tall--6′3 tall. But that isn’t what draws me closer. It’s the sentence he’d written.

To the stars that listened -- and the dreams that are answered.

My fingers ignore the rational part of my brain and click the button to book an appointment, and before I know it, I’m looking at a confirmation page.

For tonight at midnight.

Oh gods.

~Rhysand~

After working at the bar for a few hours, I head back to my shitty apartment to get ready for tonight’s appointment.

Someone has booked me for an “evening of adventure and pleasure” as the confirmation email tells me.

Wonderful.

All I know is her name: Feyre. It doesn’t sound like an old-lady name, so there’s that.

Those are the worst. It feels like fucking someone’s grandmother. Not that I’d know, exactly. And I mean sure, most of my clients are older. But there’s older, and then there’s old. Fine line between the two, let me tell you.

Most of the people who hire me are in their forties, trapped in miserable marriages, and desperate for a decent lay. They’re also filthy rich, because I’m not cheap in the slightest.

It’s why I’d agreed to this shit in the first place.

Yeah, I have to psych myself up and sleep with a random lady, but the pay is killer. And the more money I make, the quicker I can stop.

So I shower and go through my pre-appointment routine, trying not to think about what’s become of my life.

There weren’t any special requests on the appointment, but the meet was set for a swanky hotel downtown, so I put on a dark suit and white dress shirt. My hair doesn’t need much work, so I leave, figuring I’ll get there early.

The drive over’s quick, and soon I’m walking inside and sitting at the bar. She has my picture, but I don’t have a clue what she looks like, so she’ll have to come find me.

After a few minutes, someone settles next to me, and I turn around with an expectant smile.

But when I see who it is, I stop. And hating myself more than I thought possible, I tell the woman, “Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.”

Which really fucking sucks, because she’s beautiful as hell.

Smooth skin, dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and kiss-me lips kind of beautiful.

She gives me a strange look, then says words I’d never expect from someone like her. “I’m Feyre. I’m the... client.”

The way she cringes on the word tells me it’s her first time doing something like this, and the thought makes me a little too happy.

I know I should say something to comfort her, but all I can think is... she’s definitely no grandma.

~Feyre~

He keeps staring at me for a few more moments, then smiles and says, “Sorry. You’re not what I was expecting.”

I nod, then realize I have no idea what to say. Or do. Fuck, this is weird. “Do you want a drink?”

Rhysand shakes his head, then says, “Feel free, though.”

That’s the first good idea I’ve heard all day. After ordering from the bartender, I turn to the man next to me and smile sheepishly. “I don’t really know how this works. It’s my first time with... this.”

“I figured.” He’s turned toward me, one arm braced on the bar. “You can have your drink, and we’ll go upstairs when you’re ready.”

A nervous laugh ebbs out of me, and I blush. “Okay.”

Gods, am I really going through with this?

I mean sure, he’s hotter than all hell, but he’s a prostitute.

Would you rather invite a random man home with you? the bitch that lives in my brain asks with a knowing smile.

I ignore her as a drink’s set in front of me, finding it helps a little. The man next to me just watches, face a mixture of confusion and amusement.

Somehow, the photo didn’t do him justice. He’s ridiculously attractive, with dark hair, almost violet eyes, and tan skin. There’s a hint of stubble on his strong jaw, surrounding the sensual mouth that’s currently smirking at me.

I’m definitely attracted to him, but this is still weird.

“So, why are you doing this?” he asks as I drink. “If you don’t mind.”

I’m sure as hell not telling him the truth, so I say, "I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

Rhysand smiles, and it only makes him more attractive. “Fair point.”

Then he looks me up and down, raises his dark brows, and asks, “Ready?”

Not in the fucking slightest. “Sure.”

By the time we reach the elevator, I’m practically shaking. Telling myself that I can do this--that it’s what I want, for gods sake--doesn’t really help. But I don’t say a word as we glide up, then walk to the room I’ve rented for tonight.

When we get inside, I avoid looking at the bed as I turn to him.

Rhysand smoothly takes off his suit jacket, then leans against the wall and crosses his ankles. “You seem nervous.”

He certainly doesn’t. Every move he makes is smooth and easy, like he’s so comfortable in his body he doesn’t ever get nervous or self-conscious.

Must be nice.

“I do?” It’s a deflection, and we both know it.

“You’re shaking like a wet dog.” My nose wrinkles at the analogy, and he grins. “A very cute wet dog.”

I told myself I’d be alright, but now that I’m alone with him, I realize I’ve told absolutely no one where I am tonight. And if things go wrong... I start pacing. “I’m, uh... it’s just... nothing. Let’s do this thing.”

I should write sonnets.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t say a word as he walks to sit on the edge of the bed. Feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, I sit next to him.

“Why don’t we just take things slow?”

Thank the gods. I nod.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, using manners I definitely hadn’t expected but much appreciate.

I nod again, trying to keep my hands from shaking.

Rhysand raises a hand, but I swallow and push down the flare of panic as he cups my jaw and tilts my face to his. Then he leans in--keeping his word and going very slowly--and I brace myself as his lips brush against mine.

My body doesn’t exactly know how to feel when they touch. On the one hand, a very handsome man is kissing me. On the other... a man is kissing me.

I ignore the second thought and kiss him back.

His lips are silky soft against mine, slowly urging them open, and then his tongue is in my mouth, caressing mine. Everything’s slow and sensual and practiced.

And even though it’s a picture-perfect moment, it feels like that scene in the movie where the dumb blonde goes down the dark hallway while the entire theater screams at her to run.

Oh gods oh gods oh gods.

My brain’s playing me a repeat of the last year on fast forward, and I press my eyes closed to try and block it out.

I’m fine.

Rhysand leans into me, and then I’m on my back with him hovering above me, still kissing me. His surprisingly muscled frame is heavy against me, pressing me down into the soft sheets, and his elbows are by my head.

Nothing’s wrong.

Everything’s wrong.

I take a quick moment to remind myself that if this had happened a year ago, I’d probably have wrapped myself around him and let him do whatever he wanted.

But the past twelve months weren’t just a bad dream. And the band-aid protecting the stupid, naive girl I used to be from the harsh realities of the world has been ripped off and torn to bits.

And suddenly, I can’t breathe.

His head snaps up immediately, and violet eyes gaze down at me, full of concern. A weak hand comes up to press against his chest, and he sits up immediately. “Feyre? Are you okay?”

I shake my head and practically roll off the bed onto the floor. It’s completely undignified, but I don’t care. My lungs are on fire, my throat tight with the tears I’m barely holding back.

I have to get away from him; I have to get some space.

My back hits the wall, and I curl into myself, pressing my forehead against my knees.

Breathe, Feyre, breathe.

The silence in the room is broken only by my gasps, and I focus on the sound, letting it remind me that I’m here, that I made it out.

I don’t let myself think about the other person in the room. It’s just me, and I’m fine. I made it out.

There’s scratchy carpet under my legs, a wall behind my back, and more than enough air in the room.

Eventually, my brain catches up with the obvious, allowing oxygen to fill my chest. I’m gulping down breath after breath until my heart rate finally starts slowing down, and it’s only when my head stops feeling fuzzy do I open my eyes.

Rhysand sits on the bed, beautiful eyes wide, watching me.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. Gods, he’s probably uncomfortable beyond belief. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s not your fault,” I say, cutting him off and shaking my head. I know I should get off the floor, but my legs feel like jello, and I don’t want to crawl around again. “I, um...”

The words to explain the panic don’t come easy, but he stays silent, giving me time.

And because I’m a coward who still can’t admit what happened to me, I repeat the words my therapist suggested I try.

“I have problems with intimacy.” It’s hardly a whisper, but I know he hears it. “And, um... I thought it would be easier with someone like you.” I flinch at my own words and try to make it sound less offensive. “I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, Feyre. I understand.”

Tears burn the edges of my eyes, but I force them down and steady my voice. “You can go. There’s money on the desk.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you like this. Unless I’m the reason.”

“No, it’s not you,” I assure him. “You’re great. I just have a hard time relaxing with- I mean around-”

“Men,” he finishes quietly.

And even though I didn’t tell him, he looks like he can read the words off my face. Rhysand doesn’t say another word, but his eyes are understanding and calm.

He extends a hand, the silent invitation clear, and for some reason, it makes me smile as I slowly get to my feet, using the wall to support me.

Walking over, he takes my hand in is, and I notice how rough his palms are. Before I can wonder what he does to get such big callouses, he takes my other hand and places them on his shoulders.

“You’re in control. There are no expectations with me.” The words wash over me, settling in, and my heart slows down a bit. “If you want to kiss and call it a night, we can. It’s up to you.”

For some reason, hearing that he doesn’t care helps. It’s the reason why I chose this, I guess. I’m the client, and I’m in control.

Finally feeling calm, I slowly run my hands over his shoulders, down his arms. He’s heavily muscled, but it’s smooth and lean, not bulky. From a physical life, not from hours spent in a gym.

I can see the faint lines of tattoos beneath the shirt, but I don’t move to unbutton it.

His eyes stay on me, and I meet them as my hands drift to his face. The stubble I’d noticed earlier is rough against my fingers as I trace his jaw, then the strong slope of his eyebrows.

It’s been a year since I touched a man. Longer since I did so this... leisurely.

My hands find their way into his dark hair, and I smile at how soft it is. His head tilts back a little and his eyes drift close. I don’t know if he’s putting on a show or actually enjoying this, but he seems calm at least.

And I think... I think this could work.

Working on my intimacy issues with him could help fix me, maybe even get me ready for a real relationship.

So I lean in slowly and press my mouth to his.

Like he said, I’m in control. While earlier had felt like being kissed, this feels like kissing. I move my mouth slowly over his, tracing the curve of his lower lip softly.

He really is a beautiful man.

And patient, too. He’s extremely patient while I take my time learning the shape of his mouth, then the angle of his jaw. He stays still, eyes closed, letting me explore.

I slowly drift back to his mouth, and when he eases his lips open, I meet his tongue with mine. It’s slow and light and just enough to make me want more.

My breath comes shorter, but it isn’t in panic.

Taking his hands from the bed beside him, I place them on my hips. His fingers flex, but they stay exactly where I put them, even as I wrap my arms around his neck and press a little closer to him.

We’re still just kissing, but I feel it in my entire body, all the way to my toes.

I pull back and take a deep breath, not knowing how to put what I want into words without embarrassing myself. Bright violet eyes meet mine as Rhysand runs his tongue across his lower lip. “Just say it.”

How can he read my face so well after just an hour of knowing me?

“Lean back,” I say, my face warm with a blush. “But don’t turn us over. I can’t... I feel trapped.”

Rhysand just nods, gripping my hips tighter, then lays down with me on top of him. My chest is against his, my legs resting in between his. It’s the closest I’ve been to someone in a long time, and I wait for the panic to set in, but none comes.

“You okay?”

A small part of me wishes he wouldn’t be so damn understanding and nice. It’s making me feel so incredibly stupid, even as it warms my heart.

I nod, then put my head down against his chest. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why?”

Looking back up, I meet his eyes hesitantly. “You’re probably so weirded out by me. Paying you just to come make out like teenagers.”

He smiles, and it makes some of the nerves untangle. “Silly woman. I could kiss you all night. You have the most delicious mouth.” He leans in and kisses me, as if to prove it, then makes a deep humming sound.

“That’s absurd,” I mutter, even though I feel a lot less anxious now.

Rhysand shakes his head, then says, “You taste like fucking candy.” His arms loosely wrap around my waist. “Tilt your head to the side and I’ll prove it.”

I do, and his mouth meets my neck, slowly but in a way that makes it feel like I’m being devoured. Tingles shoot down my body as he sweeps my hair off my neck to get better access, and a soft moan escapes me as he sucks on the spot between my shoulder and neck.

He pulls away enough to say, “You have a really sexy moan, too.”

My face goes scarlet, and he grins up at me, then we’re kissing again. Gods, the man can kiss. He’s letting me control everything, but it’s obvious he’s good at what he does.

Even though I’m almost delirious with lust--something I haven’t felt in a long, long time--I know this is enough for tonight. I’ve already had one panic attack, and I don’t want to push myself too hard.

So I pull back and tell him, “You can go. I don’t think... this is good for tonight, I think.”

“I feel like you’re not getting your money’s worth if I leave now,” he says, and if I could’ve sworn I hear a hint of sadness in his tone.

I shrug, not telling him the money for tonight was nothing to worry about. Instead, I just slide off him and stand up, straightening my shirt. “It’s was more than okay. Seriously. Thank you for being so understanding.”

Rhysand rises fluidly and grabs his jacket, then turns to me. Before he can speak, I say, “I actually wanted to talk to you about another appointment.”

After an awkward pause, he says quietly, “I don’t really do... repeats.”

“Oh.” There’s no way to hide the disappointment in my voice.

I’d thought that I’d be able to work with him slowly. Build on what we did tonight. The thought of having to find a different man and explain why I’m so emotionally stunted... shit.

What if I freak out again, in front of someone new?

Gods, no wonder he doesn’t want to come back. He’s already had to deal with an hour of my trauma. Who would ever sign up to do it again? I’m damaged goods.

“It’s not you, I promise. I’ve just had a few clients get sort of... attached. So I made a policy to not meet with women more than once.” He sounds nice and apologetic, and it grates my nerves a little.

Rejection is rejection no matter how you look at it.

And no matter how fucked up I am, I don’t need anyone’s pity.

But, like a big girl, I smile and nod. “I get it. It’s fine. I’ll find someone else. Your money is on the table.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Find someone else? What do you mean?”

My eyebrows fly up at how shocked he sounds. He just saw firsthand how not okay I am, and he’s surprised?

“I mean that I’ll find someone else. I have intimacy issues, and I need to work on them. I understand completely that you’re uncomfortable with that, and I’ll find someone who isn’t.”

There’s a flicker in his jaw. “And you’re planning on using the website for this someone?”

“It’s really none of your concern.”

“Feyre, there are some not so great people on there. You shouldn’t use-”

My patience snaps. “You have absolutely no right to lecture me. You don’t want the job, I will find someone else, since it’s such a goddamn burden. Now thank you very much for tonight, but you’re community service is done. You can go.”

There are too many emotions on his face to process them all, but I definitely register shock.

“I promise it isn’t about you, okay? You’re great. Hell, I’d want to sleep with you even if I wasn’t getting paid. But I have a policy, and-”

“Like I said, I understand. You can go now.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t use the site to find another guy.”

There’s something about the command in his voice that grabs every last thread I’m hanging by and rips them free. I march over to him and jab a finger into his chest. “Do not tell me what to do. Ever.”

Rhysand eyes narrow, but it isn’t in anger. It’s like he’s looking at a puzzle, and he just figured out the piece he’d thought would fit won’t. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

I remove the finger-gun from his chest, but he doesn’t make any move to leave. Instead, he catches me completely off guard by saying, “I’ll do four more appointments.”

Rolling my eyes comes a little to easy. “Don’t do me any favors. I’m not your goddamn charity case.”

“No, because if you were, you’d probably be a little grateful.” Whatever retort I had planned dies in my throat. “But it’s not pity. I don’t want you getting hurt by some other guy from the site.”

There’s enough genuine concern in his voice for me to believe him. And the last thing I want is to put myself in danger.

But I still ask if he’s serious, because to be honest, it sounds perfect.

If I can fix myself in six appointments.

That’s a pretty big if.

“Yes, seriously. But I’m going to charge you more, and we can only meet here.”

I shrug because I sure as hell wasn’t about to invite him to my place. And unless he’s planning on charging enough to buy a house, it should be fine. “Okay.”

He glances at me, then down at himself, like he’s suddenly aware he’s still standing here. “Okay.”

And just like that, I’ve hired a hooker.

____________________________________________________

Part 2 is here because I have no self-control. Let me know in the comments/my box if you want to be tagged :)

@trinitybailey2003 @zukos-simp @cursebreaker29 @sjmships @starrynightsbooks @lovemollywho @januarystears @perseusannabeth @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#feysand #feyre archeron #feyre #rhysand #feyre x rhys #rhys #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

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shera-dnd · 3 years ago

Link

And here is the winner of the raffle. Right at the last possible fucking day.

This one was a blast to write tho, because I love me some Prismatic Ponytails

If you’d like your fic ideas to be written by me or just want to help me keep the lights on, consider donating to my ko-fi (rules over here)

There were two things that Ilia still struggled to get used to about her girlfriend; first was the fact that she had more money than the Gods, something she still had even after reforming the SDC from the ground up; second was the fact that she was very prone to extremely over the top displays of affection.

If Ilia had to guess it probably had something to do with the fact that she got exactly zero affection from her family as a kid, and now she’s aggressively overcompensating. Though she was Weiss’s girlfriend, not her therapist. Regardless of all that, Ilia was most definitely not prepared for what Weiss had planned for her own birthday.

She reserved the fanciest clothing store in all of Atlas, just so the two of them could try on clothes together in peace. No, correction there, so Ilia and only Ilia, could try on nice clothes. The poor girl had just started to get used to receiving gifts at all, and this...was just too much.

Ilia stepped out of the changing room wearing something she grabbed off of the ‘Summer Vacation’ section, which was the only explanation for why someone would ever buy something this light in freaking Atlas of all places. These clothes were also much more colorful than anything Ilia ever wore.

“I think this might be a bit too much,” Ilia commented.

“Don’t be silly,” Weiss countered, walking up to her, “the colors look wonderful on you. You should totally wear this next time we visit Menagerie.”

“Hun, you know what I meant,” Ilia replied.

“Hey, if I get to spoil you it’s never too much,” Weiss argued.

“Weiss, it’s your birthday,” she argued back, “shouldn’t we be spoiling you instead.”

She leaned in a little closer and broke into a smile, “well, I get to see my girlfriend in cute clothes. I think that’s spoiling enough for me.”

Ilia’s eyes and spots turned pink all at once with that comment.

“I-I guess you’re right,” she stammered, “pass me something else to try on.”

The next outfit was an extremely fancy black dress. The kind of stuff made for gallas and other rich people parties. She’d probably have to wear something of the sorts next time Weiss got invited to one of those parties, since as her girlfriend she became a fancy rich person by proxy.

Gods, that was a weird thought to have.

“This is kind of uncomfortable,” she mentioned as she stepped out of the changing room once more.

“Yeah, I think you should leave the dresses to me,” Weiss agreed, “what you need is a nice suit and vest.”

Weiss turned to go look for something that would look good on Ilia - which as far she was concerned was everything, but some things worked better than others - but not before she caught her girlfriend awkwardly fidgeting.

“Unless you mean…” She trailed off, “all of this is uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry Weiss,” Ilia apologized, her skin changing to a deep blue.

“No, no, I should be the one apologizing,” Weiss replied, walking back up to Ilia and taking her hands, “I got carried away, and I didn’t check if you were okay with this. You shouldn’t have to play along with this stuff just because it’s my birthday.”

Ilia gave Weiss’s hands a squeeze and leaned closer, touching her girlfriend’s forehead with her own. The blue slowly fading away from her skin, “hey, if it makes you happy, then I don’t mind.”

“Except you very clearly do,” Weiss insisted, squeezing back in return, “I don’t wanna force you to do something just for me.”

Ilia seemed to ponder it for a moment, before asking, “are you still dead set on spoiling me with cute clothes?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” she answered.

“Then I think I have an idea.”

~~~

The thrift store Ilia took her to wasn’t as clean, or as large as the clothing store they had just been in, and since it hadn’t been reserved ahead of time that meant they’d spend the next few hours just awkwardly bumping into people. Neither of those things seemed to lessen Weiss’s enthusiasm even the slightest bit.

She rushed in with the same joy as a child let loose in a toy store, or Blake let loose in a library, or Ruby let loose in an arsenal. Either way it looked like Weiss was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Next thing Ilia knew she was being shoved into one of the changing rooms along with a huge pile of clothes Weiss had selected for her. Weiss had obviously set them in little outfits she wanted Ilia to try out, but she had other plans.

When Ilia emerged again she was wearing the gaudiest, most mismatched outfit she could come up with. Its unique color vomit look was not helped by the fact that Ilia decided to change her own colors to match it. It was so wonderfully awful, that Weiss couldn’t keep herself from bursting out laughing.

“Mocked by my own girlfriend,” Ilia declared, forcing herself to shift blue as she over dramatically leaned against a nearby wall, as if she had nearly fallen over from shock, “oh, how will I survive this betrayal?”

It took a moment for Weiss to recover from her fits of laughter, but when she finally managed to, she walked up to Ilia and adjusted that gaudy outfit again.

“You know, this is the ugliest look I’ve ever seen,” she mentioned, playfully shaking her head, “but I think you make it work.”

False blues were replaced by happy yellows and loving pinks as Ilia giggled in response, “so you’re saying we’re buying it?”

“Only if you promise to wear this to the next party we get invited to,” Weiss offered.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on all those rich assholes’ faces.

“Deal!” Ilia replied, with far too much enthusiasm.

They stayed a little longer, trying on all sorts of stuff. By the time they left they had bought a few more clothes for Ilia - including some beach wear for when they visited Menagerie - and even a cute little stay at home look for Weiss. Ilia of course insisted on wearing that ugly outfit on her way out.

“So how about we get back to the manor, so you can get your actual gift?” Ilia asked.

“I thought this day together was the gift,” Weiss replied, a bit confused.

Ilia only shook her head, “no, that was getting the gift wrapping. When we get home you’re gonna have to open it.”

It took Weiss’s mind a moment to register what that meant.

“Oh,” the sound escaped her, “oh!”

They hastily made their way back home.

#rwby #prismatic ponytails #weiss schnee #ilia amitola #fanfic

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circlique · 4 years ago

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I love brotherly/ mentor mongolia and south korea! Can you that same platonic pairing for 38 or 10 (preferably 10)? Thank you!

10. “I think I twisted my ankle...”

38. “Let's take a deep breath..."

——

The last few decades had been...interesting...to say the least.

Yong Soo, of course, was not thrilled to be conquered by a foreign power. After all the bloodshed and destruction that the Mongols had cast upon his kingdom, there had been no choice but to submit or be destroyed.

Unlike the invasions, however, Mongol rule was not nearly so crushing. Nowadays, it was looking a lot less like a conquest and more like an annoying bureaucracy. The Mongol “takeover” in practice was a lot more lenient than he had imagined. Yong Soo’s sovereignty was mostly respected. His royalty still got to rule—they just had to intermarry with the Mongolian royalty and keep on their good sides—a comparatively easy concession.

It was almost like a complicated game of house. Korean princes putting on their best Mongol garmets and charming Mongol princesses with their best renditions of old Mongol stories. Even Khan seemed fond of some of the princes.

Likewise, Mongolia—Batukhan—reflected this firm, but fair rulership. Loyalty was prized above all else, and dissent was dealt with swiftly—but for the most part, he treated the young Korean representations as if they were his own.

Recently, Batukhan had been agreed to teach Yong Soo the art of horseback archery, after the boy’s incessant begging. Mongolia’s mounted archers were no doubt responsible for his Empire’s vast land holdings and conquests. They had range, speed, and flexibility, and were able to run circles around any unprepared opposition. It had been terrifying to face them, so of course Yong Soo held a healthy respect for their art. Part of him was eager to learn it for himself, if only so his own armies could one day use the Mongols’ strategies against them.

Batukhan did not seem concerned that his young pupil may one day use the art to try and drive him out and taught him just as he would have for any other soldier. Perhaps it was the fact that Yong Soo’s legs were still not quite long enough for his feet to sit comfortably in the stirrups that led Batukhan to offer up the knowledge so freely...

“You do well with a bow on the ground,” Batukhan stated, directing his horse to walk in pace next to Yong Soo’s. He had left all the body armor and extra equipment at home today and was wearing only a simple, white tunic. His hair was drawn into a loose braid, which swung lightly against his back with the horse’s steps. Without the full ensemble of his usual uniform, Batukhan seemed suddenly less scary and much more approachable.

“But that’s because you’re stable and only need to focus on the movement of your target,” he continued. “On horseback, you need to track your target’s movement as well as your own.”

Batukhan had set up a line of makeshift targets in front of them, old rice sacks stuffed with grass and twigs and painted with a target. He raised his bow, a sleek, curved composite of leather and horn, notched an arrow, and let it sail effortlessly into its target a few yards away. He urged his horse into a quick trot and fired arrows into the centers of the remaining targets in rapid succession.

“You must be strong in your core,” he said, gesturing to his abdomen as he lowered his bow and turned his horse around to face Yong Soo. “On the horse, that’s where your stability comes from. Don’t squeeze too hard with your legs.”

By now, Yong Soo’s horse had caught up, but Batukhan was already taking the horse’s reins and forcing him to turn back around.

“Now, you try,” he said, helping Yong Soo to direct his horse back in the other direction. He let go of the reins, and Yong Soo’s horse proceeded at a steady pace.

Yong Soo, eager to prove himself, raised his bow. He was quite proficient at it, on the ground at least. How different could it be?

He discovered very quickly that yes, it was quite different. Turning his upper body 90 degrees to face the targets immediately had him feeling off balance. Still, he was determined to at least look confident, so he bit his lip and let the arrow loose. As soon as he did, the force cause his upper body to rotate, his legs splaying out to his sides in an effort to keep his balance, and the arrow flew wildly off to the side.

“Strong core, Yong Soo,” Batukhan reminded him firmly.

Yong Soo bit his lip and readied the next arrow. Strong core. He tried clenching his abdomen, but it still did not feel right. It felt like his lower body was ungrounded. His feet, though they could reach the stirrups, did not quite settle into them firmly. Yong Soo rocked side to side, stretching his legs to try and make them go further, but it didn’t seem to help much. He flexed his core again, trying to keep from also squeezing his legs, and let the second arrow fly.

This time it at least landed close to the target, and Yong Soo spotted it sticking up from the ground near the target he’d intended to hit.

“Better,” Batukhan said from some distance away. “But you’re still not stable. You need to be rooted in your core.”

Third time’s the charm, right? Yong Soo thought to himself. Stability, stability. It was so easy on the ground. He shifted in the saddle again, stretching his legs down as far as they would go, until the foot on the same side as the targets settled more comfortably into the stirrup. Now Yong Soo felt he could settle his weight into it and—yes! Much more stable now. His confidence returned, and he readied another arrow, drew it back, flexed his core—and let it go.

At first, it seemed that Yong Soo had finally figured it out. The arrow embedded itself in the target, not in the center but at least not in the ground, but the backwards force of the bow on his arm knocked him off balance. He felt his weight shift first towards the horse and then overcorrected. He was leaning too far forward, all his weight pressed onto his forward foot as the foot on the side opposite completely lifted out of the stirrup. He felt himself slipping from the saddle and dropped his bow, his hands scrambling for a hold, body twisting back towards the horse—but it was too late. His stomach turned as gravity betrayed him, arms flailing out to his sides as they searched for the ground to break his fall. He held his breath waiting for impact and—something cracked.

The impact knocked the breath out of him, but the pain in his ankle, tangled in the stirrup and twisted unnaturally—would have done just the same.

“Yong Soo!” came Batukhan’s cry of concern, and he quickly dismounted his own horse to run to the boy’s aid.

Yong Soo’s horse—a well-trained, obedient creature, thankfully—had stopped and turned its head to nudge at the panicking Korean curiously with its nose. Yong Soo clawed at his leg, trying to free his twisted ankle from the stirrup and gasping as the movement only elicited more pain.

“Yong Soo!” Batukhan said, kneeling down and taking Yong Soo by the shoulders.

“I—I think I twisted my ankle,” Yong Soo panted, his voice shaking as he looked up at his leg, his stomach turning at the sight of his toes facing the wrong direction.

“Yes, yes you did,” Batukhan said matter-of-factly, wisely positioning himself so that his body blocked Yong Soo’s view of his injury. He gently pushed Yong Soo’s upper body down to the ground. “Now, let’s take a deep breath.”

The Mongolian drew in an exaggerated breath, held it for a moment, and released it. At first, Yong Soo could only think of the pain in his leg, throbbing harder with every heartbeat. But Batukhan repeated his exaggerated breaths a few more times until he had Yong Soo doing it along with him.

“Right—now I want you to take the biggest breath you can, Yong Soo,” he said. “And when I count to three, force it back out as hard as you can, alright?”

Yong Soo nodded, and after a few shallower warm up breaths, he sucked in as much air as he could. His lungs burned with the pressure but he kept trying to breathe in more, even as Batukhan took Yong Soo’s injured leg in his hand, holding it in a firm grip just above the ankle. Pain shot down Yong Soo’s leg and he held the breath, grimacing.

Batukhan finally started counting.

“Let it out on three, alright? One, two—three.”

In one swift movement Batukhan popped the twisted foot out of the stirrup, and Yong Soo let out the breath with a strained cry of pain.

“Good,” Batukhan said, slowly lowering the leg down to the ground, though he had to gently push Yong Soo back when he again sat up, trying to get a look at the injury.

“Ah—no need,” Batukhan said. “How will looking at it help you? It will heal itself without the help of your eyes won’t it?”

Yong Soo frowned and laid back with a huff. His ankle throbbed, but it was slowly subsiding, no doubt as a result of the accelerated healing that beings like him were blessed with. After a few more breaths, he felt a bit stupid for being so panicked.

Batukhan sighed.

“You were cheating,” Batukhan said with a knowing tone.

“I wasn’t!” Yong Soo protested.

“You were!” Batukhan said, standing and reaching out a hand for Yong Soo to grab. Yong Soo took the hand and shifted his weight onto his good leg as Batukhan pulled him into a standing position.

“You know how I know?” Batukhan went on, letting Yong Soo lean on him for support as he walked him over to a nearby tree. “Because I left the stirrups unadjusted on purpose. You must be able to stabilize yourself without relying on your legs. If you were doing it correctly you would not need the stirrups at all.”

Yong Soo pouted, then winced as he stubbornly tried to put weight on his not-quite-healed leg.

“Sorry...” he muttered simply, the embarrassment of the whole fiasco now starting to settle in.

Batukhan let out another sigh as he helped Yong Soo sit down in the shade of the tree. Once Yong Soo was situated, Batukhan knelt next to him and began to wrap the injured (but now, thankfully, untwisted) ankle in a strip of leather for stability.

“It’s fine,” he said, his tone betraying a hint of softness. “It’s only your first day, after all.”

#hetalia #aph #hws #aph mongolia #aph south korea #hws mongolia #hws south korea #my writing #sorry I got stuck on this one for a while

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spacebatisluvd · 4 years ago

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Summary: Adora learns a few things.

Content warning: Slime torture reference, ableist language, ableism.

They landed smoothly in Salineas. Bow and Glimmer got off the ship first, happy to greet Mermista and Seahawk. Adora stayed with Catra onboard, both of them waiting for Hordak and Entrapta to reappear.

Adora smiled, lacing her fingers with Catra’s. “You want to check out the beaches before we leave?” she asked. “Glimmer and Mermista have political stuff to work out, and I know Bow and Seahawk will probably run off for a boy’s night—so we should have some time to ourselves.”

Catra glanced at her and gave a short nod. “Sure.”

Adora furrowed her brows, but before she could ask if Catra was okay, Hordak and Entrapta reappeared. It was odd to see her clinging to his arm, and odder still to see the soft expression on his face when he looked at her. Thought that softness disappeared as soon as he caught sight of them, once again buried by a scowl. If Entrapta noticed, she didn’t seem to care. She continued to babble about a portal system or something as both walked down the ramp. Catra and Adora followed a moment later.

On the ground, Hordak pulled free of Entrapta to cross his arms, regarding Mermista with a blank expression. “I would like to begin by surveying the area. Do you have a foreperson you’d like me to coordinate with? Builders?”

“Not so fast,” she said, hands on her hips. “Lose the armor.”

His spine went straight and stiff. “Excuse me?”

She groaned, as if appalled by his obliviousness. “Look, if you’re not here to, like, conquer anything, then you obviously don’t need it, do you?”

Entrapta stepped forward, smiling. “He does, though,” she said helpfully. “And he’s not going to do anything to break the treaty.”

Mermista blew a stray strand of hair out of her face, then said, “Listen, Geek Princess—“

Hordak stepped in front of Entrapta, as if shielding her. “What did you just say?”

Mermista gave him a bored look. “Wow, with ears like that, you’d think you‘d be able to, like, hear better.”

Adora was already transforming into She-Ra as she stepped between them. “Okay,” she said, smiling uneasily. She pressed one hand to Hordak’s chest. The other she held palm-out to stop Mermista from getting closer. “Why don’t we all just. Take a deep breath.” She demonstrated. “And settle down?”

Hordak continued to glare at Mermista, but Mermista just rolled her eyes. “This is, like, super simple. Armor. Off. Got it?” She raised her voice and enunciated each word, as if she truly thought Hordak was hard of hearing.

His ears pulled back, and if his body language was anything like Catra’s, that wasn’t a good sign. Trying to keep the peace, Adora looked between them. “Um...Hordak? Would you mind...not wearing the armor?”

“Yes,” he snapped, “I mind!”

“Okay.” Adora sighed. “Mermista—?”

“He doesn’t need it! Unless, he’s not actually here just to rebuild.” She eyed him suspiciously.

“Fine.” Hordak drew back. “Then we will return to Dryl.”

Adora blinked. “You. You’d break the treaty over this?”

His features were drawn into a scowl. “I did not come here to be humiliated.”

“It’s just armor!” Mermista said.

He sneered, but Entrapta popped up between them. “Can we talk in private?” she asked, looking at Hordak and Adora. “Just the three of us?”

Hordak huffed. “Fine.” He marched back into the ship. Entrapta grinned at Adora before bounding after him. Bow, Glimmer, and Catra made as if to follow, but Adora motioned them back.

“I’ve got this,” she said. She eyed Mermista and dropped her voice. “Why don’t you guys try to settle things out here?” With one last reassuring wave, she too stepped back onboard.

Inside, Hordak paced, his ears drawn back and his hands clenched tight. Every bit of his body language screamed, ‘do not approach’, but Entrapta seemed completely unaware of the unspoken warning in his posture and expression. Adora squeaked and reached for her, too late. “Entrapta!” she hissed, but Entrapta had already stopped directly in Hordak’s path. He drew up short, and her hair coiled loosely around his limbs.

“I am not taking off my armor,” he snapped, towering over her.

“I know!” She, for whatever reason, drew even closer to him. The skin on the back of Adora’s neck prickled, but Entrapta seemed heedless to any danger. She just stood up on her hair and reached for him. He glared at her hand.

“No.” His voice was firm, undercut by a low growl. “Not. Now.”

Only then did she back off a little, giving him more space. “Okay, fair enough. You don’t want to break the treaty, though, right?”

“I am breaking nothing!” He threw his arms out, starting to pace again, but Entrapta only darted to the side and stepped in front of him again, still holding him loosely with her hair. “She is making up new rules!” he snarled, nearly nose to nasal ridge with her. “I did not agree to that!”

“I know! I know. It’s not fair. But, now this is important, you don’t want to break the treaty, do you?” she asked with careful emphasis. “Because we could just steal Darla and ride off into space right now. That is an option, if you’d rather do that.”

He blinked, and Adora’s eyes widened. She took a step back, wondering if she could get out of the ship and back to the others without being noticed. A rope of hair coiled around her wrist, squeezing. Was that a threat? Or reassurance? Adora watched them both closely, then swallowing, chose to trust Entrapta. She could only hope she knew what she was doing.

“Hordak?”

He exhaled slowly, and Adora’s eyes widened. Anger lingered in the growl that undercut his voice, but she could see him trying to force it back to give Entrapta a logical answer. “I do not want to break the treaty. I want to help rebuild what destruction Horde Prime and...” Another slow exhale. “And I have caused. But I will not subject myself to humiliation in order to salve her pride.”

“Great!” Entrapta darted away from him, now focusing on Adora. “Adora, if we show you why Hordak needs his armor, will you talk to Mermista?”

Adora, frozen, looked between them. Entrapta seemed earnest and eager. Hordak was harder to read. He was still scowling, and he’d crossed his arms, studying Adora as carefully as she studied him. That strange, subtle otherness within her—the thing that made her She-Ra—stirred. There was more here, something she couldn’t yet see, but she could sense it. “Yes,” she said slowly, nodding.

Entrapta turned back to him. “Hordak? Will you show her?”

His ears drew back. “You trust her?” His voice was oddly soft. It was an honest question, with no hint of accusation or his earlier rage. He sounded hesitant, unsure of himself.

Entrapta gave it a moment of thought. “I do.”

Hordak nodded—not in agreement. Not yet. He folded his hands behind his back and lowered his gaze, thinking. Just as Adora began to feel antsy about the extended quiet, he speared her with a look. “You will speak of this to no one. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” She nodded. The weight of the word settled heavily in her chest.

“Entrapta, will you assist me?”

“Of course!”

He brought his hand to his sternum, and for the first time, she truly took note of the crystal at his throat. It clashed with his color scheme, a better match to Entrapta’s colors than to his, but even more jarring was the subtle whisper of meaning she caught when she saw the lettering on its surface.

‘LUVD.’

She glanced at Entrapta, swallowing as she truly began to understand what she was seeing.

Hordak popped the chip out of his armor, and Entrapta’s hair went to work, pulling the metal exoskeleton free of his body and disconnecting it from several ports that Adora knew the other clones did not have. She didn’t miss the way a stray rope of hair caressed his cheek, though the touch lasted only a moment.

When she was finished, Entrapta remained at his side, one hand on his lower back to offer support. With the armor off, Adora could now see his withered arms, his discolored skin, and worst of all, the holes in his forearms. “You’re sick,” she said, stepping forward.

“Something like that,” Entrapta replied. “It’s more like a disability.”

“Defect,” he corrected. His voice was rough and angry, but under the anger, Adora could see the shame.

The part of her that was Shadow Weaver’s ward knew that this knowledge could be used against him, understood that this was a vulnerability that could be exploited. She carefully set that line of thinking aside, and instead reached for the part of herself that had healed Catra, that had cast out Prime and put him to rest. She pressed her hand to Hordak’s chest, and he jolted, but didn’t pull away. Her power washed through him...but nothing changed. Whatever kind of illness or disability this was, her powers had no effect. But she could feel the shadow it cast on his soul, and the places where that shadow had lifted and loosened, if only slightly. Slowly but surely, he was healing, in mind if not in body.

She drew away. Before she could speak, Entrapta was in front of her, hair tugging on her hands. “What was that? What did you do? Can you do it again? Will you show me!?”

Adora blinked. “Uh.” She looked at Hordak, and he cleared his throat, gently laying a hand on Entrapta’s shoulder.

“Oh. Whoops.” She smiled sheepishly. “You can show me later,” Entrapta said, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

“Have you seen enough, She-Ra?”

She gave a stiff nod. “Yes. I’ll...” She lifted her chin, straightening her spine. “I’ll speak to Mermista. You can put your armor back on.”

He nodded gruffly. It was likely the closest thing she’d get to a thank you.

Mermista huffed and complained, but in the end, she conceded the point. From there, they all went their separate ways. Seahawk, as predicted, dragged Bow off to whatever seedy tavern was his preferred hangout at the moment. Mermista and Glimmer left to meet with various advisors and nobles, discussing something that Adora honestly hadn’t found interesting enough to remember. Hordak left to speak to Salineas’ engineers, while Entrapta and Imp trailed behind, exploring the ruins of Salineas.

Which left Catra and Adora to themselves, with no assigned job, no responsibilities. They grinned at each other and raced to the beach, throwing stray elbows and flinging obstacles in each others’ path as they ran. Together, they collapsed on the beach, basking in the warmth of the sand beneath them and the sun overhead. Gulls called, and Adora inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of the sea. They stripped down to their underclothes to swim, and later, when they kissed, Adora could taste salt on Catra’s lips, her jaw, her neck.

After the sun dipped behind the horizon, they built a small fire and huddled together on the beach. Catra disappeared for a while, reappearing with a brown bottle she refused to admit was stolen, but she did admit that she wasn’t sure what kind of alcohol it contained. They traded it back and forth regardless.

“Your jus’ tryna get me drunk,” Adora said, pushing the bottle away when she’d attained a pleasant buzz.

“Hmph. Sure. ‘Trying’.”

“Pssshaw.” Adora waved her off. “I’m not drunk! That’s ridiculous. You’re—you’re ridiculous.” She giggled.

Catra shook her head, but she set the bottle aside and pulled Adora close, looping an arm over her shoulders. The fire crackled and the waves crashed, and Adora was sure she could never love someone as deeply as she loved Catra in that moment.

So, naturally, something had to spoil it.

Catra squinted, staring at a distant cliff. “Is that...Hordak and Entrapta?”

No longer feeling quite as pleasantly buzzed, Adora asked, “Oh, no—are they trying to steal the spaceship?”

“What? No. They’re just— Wait. Why was that your first guess?”

“Uh. It might’ve come up when I was talking to them earlier.”

Catra snorted. “I’m surprised they haven’t. I would’ve, in their shoes.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“I would if you’d agreed to come with me.” They exchanged a look, smiling softly. Then Catra looked away, shaking her head. “I wonder why he’s bothering with all this, you know?” She gestured to Salineas. “He and Entrapta could just leave. They wouldn’t even have to steal our spaceship—those two could definitely build their own, if they wanted.”

“Huh. I guess I never thought about it. It just seemed natural to me. That he’d want to fix things.”

“Hmmph. You would think that.” No matter how she tried to make that sound like an insult, Adora could hear the fondness in her voice. She cuddled closer, and Catra pressed a kiss to the side of her head. For a while, they were quiet. The fire dimmed and Catra got up to add more wood, poking it with a stick. She looked back at the high cliff, where Hordak and Entrapta’s silhouettes were still visible. Her ears folded back and her brows drew down. Her mouth pressed into a thin line.

Adora leaned forward. “What’s on your mind?”

Catra huffed and looked away from them, ears still folded back. “Is it weird that I’m kind of...worried about him?”

“Who, Hordak?”

Catra nodded. “Yeah. It’s just....” She dropped to the sand with a huff, pulling her knees up to her chest. “On Prime’s ship....” Her features darkened, and she shook her head. “I told you about the slime pit, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He literally asked.... He knelt in front of Prime, and he asked to be ‘purified’.” She rested her chin on her knees. “Because I reminded him that he had a name. He asked Prime to torture him because I reminded him he was a person. There’s no way you can just be okay after something like that, right?” She exhaled shakily, and Adora moved close, sensing that this wasn’t just about Hordak. She threw her arm over Catra’s shoulders, pulling her in.

“I think he’s doing pretty okay,” she said, “He’s healing. Getting better day by day.” She rested her chin on Catra’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think Entrapta’s keeping an eye on him. I mean—they’re out stargazing! That’s actually kind of sweet.”

Catra snorted. “Only because you can’t hear them. ‘Entrapta,’” she pitched her voice comically low. “‘Would you like to know the chemical makeup of that star cluster there?’ ‘Oh, Hordak, you don’t have to tell me—I already know everything!’”

Adora snorted, ruffling Catra’s hair. “Stop it! They are not saying that.”

“Wanna find out?”

“We are not spying on Hordak and Entrapta.”

“Ugh. When did you get so boring?”

“Boring, huh?”

Adora kissed her, and they both soon forgot about Hordak and Entrapta entirely.

A/N: Oof. Not sure I have a handle on Adora and Catra. Apologies.

#intimacy log #entrapdak #catradora #adora #hordak #entrapta #catra #mermista #bow #glimmer #seahawk #my writing #ableist language #ableism #slime pit torture

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