#she’d also be a better hero

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Across Every Universe

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey Jordan, can i request something where Dean Winchester always have a crush on the reader but never said something to her until one day Sam and Dean are transported (based on the episode French Mistake) and Dean actor Jensen and is married to the reader of the universe and she pass the whole day giving Dean hug and kisses because for everyone is Jensen. When Dean and Sam came back to their universe him and the reader start dating? Fluff 

Summary: Sam and Dean are taken back to the same place where Dean is known as Jensen Ackles and Sam as Jared Padalecki. This little trip makes Dean realize his feelings for you.

Square Filled: "god, if only you knew what you did to me" (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

No matter the position you’re in, you’re not comfortable. It doesn’t matter if you lie down on your side, your back, or your stomach. Not to mention the heater isn’t working in the Bunker so it’s very cold. You have three blankets over you while wearing long sleeves and pajama pants. The broken heater doesn’t help your running cold either. You’re not sure where you caught it from but you’ve been trying to stay away from the brothers to not get them sick.

That doesn’t keep Dean away, though.

He’s a complete sweetheart to you since he always brings you soup, makes sure you’re comfortable, and spends time with you even if you tell him not to go near you. You don’t know what you’d do without Dean in your life.

Speaking of, he knocks on your door and enters wearing his usual hunting attire.

“Going on a hunt?” you ask and sit up slightly.

“Yeah. I wish I could stay here and take care of you.”

“Other people need you,” you smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to stay in bed, watch movies, and make some soup later. Did you fix the heater, yet?”

“I have someone coming in a few days. He’s also on a hunt.”

“Right, no non-hunters here,” you chuckle.

“I’ll call you later and check up on you, okay?”

“My hero.”

You cuddle with your blankets more and Dean leaves your room with a slight blush on his cheeks. Before he closes the door, he looks back at you in thought. God, if only you knew what you did to me.

He closes your door and meets his brother in the library. As soon as they are packed and ready to go, they start the long drive to the next state over. When Dean gets onto the highway, Sam turns to Dean with a knowing smile.

“So, did you tell her how you feel?”

“Stay out of it, Sammy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“How long have you had a thing for her? Years? When are you going to tell her how you feel?”

“I mean it, Sam. Stay out of it. I can handle it on my own.”

“Apparently not, or else she’d be yours.”

Dean punches his brother not gently in the arm and Sam laughs. Dean kept the music high so he could avoid talking about his feelings for you. They get to the town that has its residents sacrificing themselves in the name of God. If anything, it warrants some kind of visit from the Winchesters.

The town looks like a normal town with normal people just trying to live their normal lives. They have no suspicions that something is happening but they only just arrived. They get there late at night so they will have to do their work tomorrow morning. Dean takes out his phone when his brother goes into the bathroom to shower and calls you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m doing alright but not any better.”

“Did you take your medicine?”

“Yes, I did.” He can hear the smile in your voice and that makes him smile. “And I ate my soup and drank water.”

“Don’t forget to tell her goodnight,” Sam says loudly from the bathroom.

Dean grabs a pillow and chucks it at his brother. “Go take a shower. You stink.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” you chuckle, having heard Sam.

“Night sweetheart.” He hangs up and turns to his brother with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam and Dean actually get more than four hours of sleep that night but when Dean wakes up, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. The motel is gone, the shutty beds and blankets are gone, and the peeling wallpaper is gone. What replaces it is a nice trailer, a comfortable bed, a big aquarium, and other nice shit that Dean has never had.

“Sammy?” he calls out. He gets up and leaves the small trailer only to run into Sam. “What the hell is going on? Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looks around and spots a name on the side of the trailer that’s behind Dean. “Oh, no. Look.”

Dean turns and sees the name ‘Jensen Ackles’ on the side. He turns back around and sees ‘Jared Padalecki’ on the trailer opposite his.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? We’re back in actor land? What happened last time?”

“Gabriel sent us here to avoid Raphael and his minions. I have no idea how we ended up here.”

“I bet it has something to do with the fact that people were sacrificing themselves in the name of God. My guess is that angels are involved.”

“There you two are.” Sam and Dean turn to see Castiel--Misha--walking toward them. “They’re looking for you two.”

“Yeah, we’re coming.”

If Sam and Dean didn’t do a good job trying to act last time, then they certainly aren’t going to do a good job now. It’s funny in hindsight but it makes for a very long day of filming. After the twentieth time messing up, Dean is ready to get the hell out of there to figure out how to get back to his world.

He looks to the right and sees you at the snack bar. He immediately calls for a time-out and leaves the set.

“Time out?” the director frowns and looks at him. “Everyone, take ten!”

“Y/N?”

“Come here, you have to try this. Gen made it,” you grin at Dean. You take a scoopful of food and present it to him. He opens his mouth and accepts the food, pleasantly surprised by the taste. “Oh, you have something on your mouth.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb and lick the food off. Dean is so confused about your behavior but doesn’t have time to figure it out. Your phone rings and you check who is messaging you. “I gotta go. Gen is here.”

You lean up and kiss him quickly before walking off. Dean can’t move after that quick kiss. You did it so casually like you’ve done it a thousand times. He is forced to go back to acting but he can’t do a good job because all he’s thinking about is your lips on his.

They aren’t getting enough filming done so the director calls it for the rest of the day. Sam and Dean convene outside to make it look like they’re busy so no one else talks to them.

“She kissed me, dude.”

“What?”

“Y/N or the woman who she’s supposed to be. She kissed me like we’re together or something.”

“Look, I’m glad you’re going through the five stages of teenage excitement but can we focus here? How are we going to get out of here?”

Dean looks around and spots you entering his trailer.

“Eh, you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back.”

Dean leaves to his trailer and Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“Dean!” he hisses but receives no answer.

Dean enters his counterpart’s trailer and sees you where the bed is. You’re grabbing some night clothes out of the drawers since you’re not going to be leaving the trailer for the rest of the night.

“Hey, I talked to Gen about the cabin and she got it all set up for us this weekend. I’m so excited to spend some time away from all this for two days.”

“Are we dating?” The comment makes you laugh. “What?”

“Are you okay?” He looks kind of nervous so you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I do know how to make you feel better.”

“How?” he whispers.

You run your hands down his chest and take his hands. You take him to the bed and toss your night clothes onto a nearby chair. You fall onto the bed while pulling him so he lands on top of you but he stops himself with his hands so he doesn’t completely crush you.

You pull him down to kiss you and that’s enough to bring Dean into the delusion that you’re Y/N and you’re his. Your lips are softer than what he thought and your body fits so perfectly against his. He slips his tongue into your mouth to get familiar with you. You tug on his hair to get some traction so he pulls away from your mouth and kisses down your neck.

Your neck has always been a sensitive spot for you and he really knows how to work you up. He licks up and down your neck before latching onto the side of it. You gasp, tilt your head back, and moan something that brings Dean back down to reality.

“Jensen.” You’re not his. You’re not you. You’re Jensen’s. You’re not supposed to be with him. He pulls away and pants above you. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we just lay here instead?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get changed.”

You slip out from underneath him and grab the pajamas you set aside earlier. You strip down naked and Dean has a hard time not looking at you. He can’t help but think you’re a complete stranger. The pajamas you’re wearing are revealing but he feels better at looking at you with clothes on. You climb into bed with him and cuddle into his side, and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your head.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Tell me the story of how we met.” You look at him in confusion. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Okay, I got tickets to a red carpet event that my ex-friend invited me to. We were going to see the movie My Bloody Valentine because we thought it was going to be the next big movie. The entire cast was there, including you, meeting fans and taking pictures with them. When we locked eyes, it was like something was pulling you to me.

“You came over to me, complimented me on my dress, signed my poster with your number on it which I still have, and the rest is history. I never got together with you because you were a big celebrity. You were genuine, kind, funny, charming, and very sexy. It was hard not to fall in love with you.”

Dean notices the big ring on your finger and puts the pieces together.

“We’re married?”

“Yes, we are,” you laugh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just… really happy.”

You lean over and kiss him. The next morning, Dean leaves his trailer before you get up. He doesn’t want to wake you even though he wants to. He finds Sam outside his own trailer with a book in his hands.

“Hey,” Dean sighs.

“I might have found a way out of here, no thanks to you.”

“What if we didn’t leave?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“The love of my life is my wife here.”

“That’s not your wife, Dean. She’s Jensen’s wife. She thinks you’re him. Why would you take that away from him? You have a girl waiting for you at home, a girl with whom you’re too scared to do anything about. Don’t take her away from him because you want what they have.”

Dean knows he’s right. He can’t stay here. He’s using this world as an escape from his own.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean sighs. “What do you have?”

“I found this book in the prop section. This might be a TV show but it does have some useful books to make it look real. There’s a ritual we can do.”

And a ritual it is. Once they get the stuff needed and perform it, they are brought back to the town they arrived in a couple of days ago. In order to properly tackle this town, they’re going to need some angelic help. Maybe Castiel can meet them back at the Bunker and figure something out then.

The first thing Dean does when he gets home is go looking for you. You’re still stuck in bed watching your favorite movies on Disney+. You pause your movie when your bedroom door opens.

“Hey, how was the hunt?” Dean doesn’t say anything as he kicks off his shoes. He climbs into bed with you and pulls you close to him. “Dean?”

“I love you,” he blurts. “I should have told you this years ago but I can’t seem to think straight when I’m with you. You make everything better for me, and you’re a better hunter than I ever was. God, I love you so much.”

“I’d kiss you but I don’t want to get you sick,” you smile.

“I don’t care,” he whispers and kisses you.

This is where he belongs. Right next to you.

x

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[comradekatara]

Your atla analysis is the best so I wanted to ask your opinion on something I've found the fandom fairly divided on - what did you think of Azula's ending within the show proper? Unnecessarily cruel or a necessary tragedy? Would you say that her mental breakdown was too conveniently brought about in order to 'nerf' her for the final agni kai? Also, do you think it was 'right' for Zuko to have fought with his sister at all or would it have been better for him to seek a more humane way to end the cycle of violence?

okay so im saying this as someone who loves azula to death like she has always been one of my absolute favorite characters ever since i was a kid and i’ve always vastly preferred her to zuko and found her to be extremely compelling and eminently sympathetic. i am saying this now before the azula stans come for me. i believe in their beliefs. but i also think her downfall is perfectly executed, and putting aside all the bullshit with the comics and whatever else, it’s a really powerful conclusion to her arc. obviously that isn’t to say that she wouldn’t continue to grow and develop in a postcanon scenario (i have a whole recovery arc for her mapped out in my head, like i do believe in her Healing Journey) but from a narrative perspective, her telos is in fact very thematically satisfying.

no, she wasn’t nerfed so that they could beat her in a fight. the fact that she falls apart is what makes them feel that they can confidently take her on (although i do think in a fair fight katara could win anyway), but the whole point is that it’s not about winning or losing in combat. the whole point is that zuko and azula being pitted against each other in this gratuitous ritual of violence as the culmination of their arcs is fundamentally tragic. yes it’s a bad decision to fight her, and zuko should have chosen another path, but the whole point is that he’s flawed and can only subscribe to the logic he has spent his whole life internalizing through violence and abuse.

that’s why aang’s fight against ozai, while tragic in its own way, is also a triumph for the way in which his ideals prevail in the face of genocide, while zuko and azula’s fight is very patently tragic. there is no moment of victory or triumph. even as zuko sacrifices himself in a beautiful mirroring of “the crossroads of destiny” and as katara uses the element of her people combined with techniques across other cultures to use azula’s hubris and ideology of domination against her, it’s presented as moments of personal growth occurring within a very tragic yet inevitable situation. it was inevitable because azula had always been positioned as an extension of her father, and thus to disempower ozai also means disempowering azula, his favorite site of projection, his favorite weapon.

yeah, it does rub me the wrong way when zuko asks katara whether she’d like to help him “put azula in her place.” it’s not a kind way to talk about your abused younger sister. but it’s also important to understand that zuko doesn’t really recognize his sister’s pain, despite the fact that they obviously share a father, because he’s always assumed that she was untouchable as their perfect golden child and thus never a victim. and he’s wrong. zuko and katara expect a battle of triumph and glory, noble heroes fighting valiantly so that good may prevail over evil. but as they discover here, even more so than their previous discovery two episodes prior, a battle is not a legendary event filled with bombast and beauty until after it has been historicized. often a war is simply fought between pathetic, desperate people who see no other option but to fight.

aang’s ultimate refusal to fight despite having all the power in the world is what makes him so important as the protagonist. but katara and zuko both share a more simplistic view of morality and what it means to be good. and zuko assumes that by fighting azula, he can only be punching up, because she has always been positioned as his superior, and she (in her own words!) is a “monster.” and then azula loses, and his entire worldview shatters. joking about putting her in her place makes way for the realization that behind all her posturing and lying (to herself more than anyone) and performance and cognitive dissonance, azula has always been broken, perhaps even more than he is.

azula says “im sorry it has to end this way, brother,” to which zuko replies “no you’re not.” but i think azula is truly sorry, because in her ideal world, she wouldn’t be fighting zuko. she doesn’t actually want to kill him, as much as she claims to. she’s already reached the conclusion that zuko will only truly reach once their fight is over. she lacks a support system, and she needs one, desperately. if she could somehow get her family back, do everything differently, less afraid of the consequences, she would. she’s smirking, she sounds almost facetious, but really, she is sorry. as of this moment, she really doesn’t want it to end this way. but zuko cannot accept that, because in his mind, azula is evil. azula has no soul nor feeling. azula always lies.

her breakdown doesn’t come out of nowhere, either. it’s precipitated by everyone she has ever cared about betraying her. first zuko betrays her, then mai, then ty lee, and then ozai — the person she has staked her entire identity to and to whom she has pledged her undying loyalty and obedience, become nothing more than a vessel for his whims — discards her because she had the audacity to care about someone other than him. what i don’t think zuko realizes, and perhaps will never realize, is that azula betrayed ozai by bringing zuko back home. he was not supposed to be brought back with honor and with glory. azula specifically orchestrated the fight in the catacombs to motivate him to join her, and it’s not because she’s some cruel sadistic monster who wanted to separate a poor innocent soft uwu bean from his loving uncle, it’s because she genuinely believes that she’s doing what’s best for him. she believes that their uncle is a traitor and a bad influence, and she believes that bringing zuko home with his honor “restored” is an act of love. to her it is.

yes, she claims that she was actually just manipulating him so that she wouldn’t have to take the fall if the avatar was actually alive, but also, she’s clearly just covering her own ass. she didn’t know about the spirit water, and only started improvising when zuko started showing hesitation. but even if she was only using zuko, then that was an insane risk to take, because either way she was lying directly to ozai’s face. and zuko admits it to ozai while simultaneously committing treason, so of course ozai would blame azula, his perfect golden child who tried to violate his decree by bringing zuko back home a prisoner at best and dead at worst, and instead found a way to restore his princehood with glory.

we only see ozai dismissing and discarding azula in the finale, but it’s clearly a tension that’s been bubbling since the day of black sun. and we know this because we do see azula falling apart before the finale. in “the boiling rock” she is betrayed by her only friends. in “the southern raiders” we see that this has taken a toll on her, that she is already somewhat unhinged. she and zuko tie in a one on one fight for the first time. and she takes down her hair as she uses her hairpin to secure herself against the edge of a cliff. unlike zuko, who is helped by his friends and allies, who has a support system. it’s a very precarious position; she’s literally on a cliff’s edge, alone, her hair down signifying her unraveling mental state. azula having her hair down signals to us an audience that she is in a position of vulnerability. she is able to mask this terrifying moment wherein she nearly plummets to her death with a triumphant smirk, but it should be evident to us all that her security is fragile here.

and the thing is, even though she’s always masked it with a smirk and perfect poise, her security has always been fragile. azula has never been safe. azula’s breakdown is simply the culmination of her realization that no matter how hard she tries, she will never be ozai’s perfect weapon, because she is a human being. she is a child, no less. and there is no one in her entire life who loves her for nothing. zuko has iroh, who affirms to him that he could never be angry with zuko, that all he wants is simply what is best for zuko. but azula doesn’t have unconditional support in her life. she doesn’t even have support.

everyone she ever thought she could trust has betrayed her, and so she yells that trust is for fools. because she feels like a fool. of course fear is the only way; it’s what kept her in line all these years. azula is someone who is ruled by fear, and who is broken by the recognition that fear isn’t enough. her downfall is necessarily tragic because her worldview is wrong. the imperialist logic of terror as a tool for domination is her own undoing, just as ozai’s undoing is losing the weapon he has staked his national identity to. it’s a battle of ideals. aang v ozai: pacifism v imperialism. katara and zuko v azula: love and support v fear and isolation.

zuko is unfair to azula, it’s true. he tries to fight her even as he can clearly recognize that “she’s slipping.” instead of trying to help his little sister, he uses that weakness to his advantage, tries to exploit her pain so that he can finally, for the first time ever, beat her in a fight. it’s cruel, but it’s also how siblings act. especially considering the conditions under which they were raised, and how zuko has always viewed her. and in zuko’s defense, she has tried to kill him multiple times lately, both in “the boiling rock” and in “the southern raiders.” zuko is someone who gets fixated on a goal and blocks out everything else, including recognition of his surroundings or empathy for others. so of course when he’s promised to put azula in her place he’s going to exploit her weaknesses to do so. after all, isn’t exploiting his weaknesses exactly what azula does best? so he allows himself to stoop to her level, and in fact only redeems himself through his sacrifice for katara. but it is when azula is chained to the grate and zuko and katara, leaning on each other, look down and observe the sheer extent on her pain, that zuko realizes that “putting azula in her place” isn’t actually a victory. it feels really, really bad, actually.

they’re in a similar position as they were when they faced yon rha. and now it is zuko’s turn to understand that he is not a storybook hero triumphing over evil, but rather a human being, facing another human being, in a conflict that is larger than themselves. to “put someone in their place” is to imply a logic of domination, of inherent superiority, that someone has stepped out of line and must be reordered neatly into the hierarchy. but aang disputes the notion, ozai’s notion, that humanity can be classified along these lines, that there exists an ontological superiority among some and not others. so operation: putting azula in her place was always going to be flawed, even if she was performing competency the way she always does, because they’re nonetheless subscribing to her logic.

of course they should be helping azula, of course they should be reaching out to abuse victims through support instead of more violence. but first they must recognize her victimhood. first they must come to understand that they didn’t get lucky, and they didn’t dominate her because they are more “powerful,” that they weren’t “putting her in her place.” they must understand that they are not heroes fighting villains in a glorious trial by combat. that the logic of the agni kai is flawed. that they are all victims. that they are all just scared, hurt children who are still grieving their mothers.

[natalievoncatte]

It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.

You could just turn it off.

“What do you want, Danvers?”

Alex’s voice was thick.

“We can’t find Kara.”

Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. “So now you’re accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.”

Alex’s patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.

“I’m not calling you to accuse you. I’m calling you to ask for help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because she’s burned out her powers and we can’t find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and she’s powerless.”

Lena licked her lips.

“Is this some kind of weird test to see if I’ll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?”

“First of all,” said Alex, “fuck you.”

“Mutual,” said Lena. “What was the second part?”

“The second part is that I know you. I know you’re pissed off at her. I also know that you don’t react the way you’ve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isn’t what friends are fucking for.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Lena snapped.

“Right. Help us find her.”

“No,” Lena said, coolly. “Goodnight, Director.”

Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.

Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.

After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided she’d had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.

Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.

She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course they’d decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.

“What do you miss most?” the kid asked.

Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the hero’s eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.

“Red sunrises,” said Kara.

Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum she’d invented herself.

So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.

“Oh fuck you all,” Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.

Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.

Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.

This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.

You know what you have to do. You know what you’ve always had to do.

Kara answered on the third ring.

“Hi.”

Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.

“Hey,” she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. “I heard what happened.”

“I beat the monster.”

“I know,” said Lena. “You always do. Where are you, Kara?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’t know who out you up to this, but you don’t have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.”

No, you fucking don’t, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldn’t have lied to me.

“Tell me where you are.”

“I’m where I belong,” Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that she’d been drinking.

Then she hung up.

A wave of anger welled in Lena’s chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.

She didn’t drive home.

Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.

She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming “RAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTON”.

Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.

“Kara?” said Lena.

Kara swayed slightly on her feet. She’d gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.

“Hi,” Kara said, taking another drink.

“What are you doing?”

“Chasing a red sunrise.”

Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.

She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.

Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didn’t resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.

“Alex send you?”

“No,” said Lena. “She just had to tell me. She knew I’d send myself.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a lot more observant than you are.”

Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.

Lena looked at it. “How much of this have you had?”

“Not enough,” said Kara, taking another drink.”

“If you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.”

“It all tastes like paint thinner,” said Kara.

Lena sighed. “Get in the car.”

Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passenger’s seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.

When they arrived at Lena’s apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.

“Hey,” Kara muttered.

“There’s still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.”

Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.

As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.

“Pain hurts,” she observed.

“It’ll do that.”

Then she went quiet, sinking into Lena’s couch with Lena’s ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.

“I have her.”

“Thank God. I’ll be over to get her in a few minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Lena sighed.

Alex didn’t answer her for a too-long pause.

“Yeah. Call me in the morning.”

“Will do.”

Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.”

“What now?” said Kara.

“Is the ice still cold?”

“Yeah.”

Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.

As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadn’t abated from the loss of her powers.

“You have tea on your TV,” Kara observed.

“Yeah,” said Lena.

It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasn’t Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.

(Fucking seriously?)

Nature documentaries were Kara’s kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lena’s shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldn’t help it anymore.

She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.

It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lena’s bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; she’d woken up.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lena. I can’t… I can’t breathe I’m so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I can’t lose you too. I’ll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.”

Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. They’d kept secrets and been stupid and and they’d hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.

She was careful as she cupped Kara’s jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)

The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didn’t care that Kara’s mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.

When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, “As you wish.”

[randomness-is-my-order]

after five books from percy’s perspective, getting a look into how other characters see him and his strength in heroes of olympus FINALLY knocks us over with the sheer badassery of percy jackson and that might just be the top reason for why i like son of neptune so much.

like this is percy’s view of his own self. too humble, most often self deprecating than not, entirely avoidant of claiming any credit:

...and THIS is how others see him, like he’s a person who literally oozes god aura, who is intimidating despite dressed like a rag doll, absolutely dishelleved like he was dragged assback through the mud

and dangerous?? yes, percy embodies that adjective even if he will never see himself that way:

and these are just a few examples. you also have more subtle things like reyna remarking that percy’s smarter than he looks or her saying she’d rather he become praetor so the camp would have two strong leaders instead of one.

that itch of percy appreciation that i felt after completing pjo, knowing the absolute hell he went through was finally sated in son of neptune because this world is truly a better place with more percy admirers around.

[legacygirlingreen]

That time of year again… // Sebastian Sallow x Reader/MC (NSFW)

Hi friends! I have been battling the flu for a week now so there’s a delay on strumming hearts pt 2 but I managed to scrap this together for those who celebrate Christmas! Also hella unedited so RIP.. anyways, Hope your day has been fantastic!

Screenshots in art by: @sinty2ek - seriously check out their page, it’s great if you aren’t already following 💚

Warning: smut (duh), Sebastian gets dom for a moment but overall is worried about her, loss of virginity, consent is hot, size difference, etc

Word count: 7,700

All characters are aged up and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The first December after the events in Feldcroft, he had come down with a bout of dragon pox that landed him in the hospital wing for weeks. The second his finals had come to an end he wound up in a bed, with nurse Blainey rushing around him, and he didn’t realize what exactly was happening until the first of the year when he was released. In a way, he’d been thankful, that not really being conscious or alert through the worst part of the year.

That vile illness saved him from going to an empty home with too many bad memories to sulk and more than likely drink his uncle's firewhiskey. He had “come too” so to speak the morning of his birthday - New Year’s Eve or Hogmanay for the Scots - but in his house it had always been about celebrating himself and Anne. Knowing he’d be unable to grieve the loss of his sister from his life with nurse Blainey in the room he laid in the hospital bed trying by any means to distract himself.

She had come around several times seeing he was much better but still not quite healthy to be released. As his energy grew so had his restlessness. He was so grateful when his friend, the only one he had anymore, had so sweetly continued to try and attempt to see him. He had heard snippets throughout his stay from the nurse about how the girl had frequently attempted to come see him, and she’d caught the girl trying to sneak in a few times, firmly reassuring the hero of Hogwarts that dragon pox was no laughing matter.

It warmed his heart when he was finally awake at how the pile of books slowly started to accumulate, giving him a much needed distraction. She even slipped in a title to the stack he knew she must’ve stolen from the restricted section, and the thought of her puttering around amongst the ghost to get him comfort while sick, made him smile.

And on his birthday in the morning when he awoke he saw a small slice of cake alongside a neatly wrapped gift and a small note containing his name. Blainey had informed him how desperately the girl had begged to stay on the far side of the hospital just to see him and how upset she’d been handing off the gift and pastry before sulking back downstairs.

As sweet as it all was, he was somewhat grateful to the nurse for keeping the girl away. Not only would he never be able to live with himself should he be the reason she contracted the often fatal illness, but he honestly didn’t want to be seen like that.

He’d been quite honest with himself over that first summer holiday on his feelings for the girl. He had come to terms with the awful ways in which he’d treated her and decided her miracle of not turning him in and standing by him should never go wasted. In those hot months in feldcroft he decided that he’d never hurt her again. And perhaps one day he’d tell her how he felt.

Because as the first July without Anne and Solomon raged on as he tended the garden, all he continued to think of was her shimmering eyes dreamily staring up at his own in amazement as he showed her the undercroft. Or how silky her hair had shown in the moonlight that night they raided the goblin mine. How small she felt pressed against him when he’d pulled her to safety from that spider. How brilliant her smile was when they discovered the first of Isadora’s memories. Or how she held him so tightly the night before they left hogwarts in May when she’d found him crying in the undercroft…

But that former Yule where he laid in a hospital bed, covered in sweat, scabs and looking like death itself, he was almost more thankful that the nurse had prevented the girl of his dreams from seeing his current state. Sebastian had always been a bit cocky. And he knew that he had some baseline qualities to which made him attractive, despite the ones he tended to dislike. He often hoped his messy hair would be considered more charming in her eyes. Or she’d notice that he’d started shaving by purposefully leaving it a few days sometimes so she’d have to notice the dark hair adorning his chin. He found the few of his features he could be proud of and he was thankful that she’d not seen him sick when she’d left that sweet gift.

The girl had dropped off a blank, leather bound journal, simply explaining in her note how proud she’d been of him for not messing with dark magic and that she hoped he’d use the journal to vent his feelings, frustrations, discoveries and anything else as he continued to turn over a new leaf. It had been sweet and something he’d never done before but if he was honest in the last year he’d nearly filled the damn thing after he taped in her note to the first page.

That remaining school year and the start of the current left him following around her like a lost crup puppy. Although feeling a bit self conscious earlier on about his newly acquired dragon pox scars adorning his body and the few on his face, he quickly resolved the issue when she come to him with a potion to cure it that she promised she had done the heavy lifting with garreth on. It overall did the charm and returned his face and skin to its original state.

Anywhere she needed to go after that, he was there. She needed someone to hold books? Sebastian had two hands. She needed an escort through the forbidden forest to find a lost niffler? He was carrying the small creature back for her. She wanted company even on a night he was exhausted? He’d brave the lack of sleep and stay up with her.

At some point during the year she had come to him and confessed she hadn’t been sleeping well, professor Weasley and her head of house recommending she relocate to her room of requirement instead of a dorm so she wouldn’t disturb her roommates with the nightmares.

So every once in a while when he too was struggling to fall asleep he’d find a note slipping under his dormitory door and he’d be slipping off to the tapestry in the hall to make sure she was okay.

Deek had found them most mornings still awake by the fire just chatting and decided perhaps Matilda didn’t need to know everything. Not even on the rare mornings he found Mr Sallow’s arms wrapped around his dear friend as they both slept soundly in her conjured bed. As far as Deek was concerned both children desperately needed whatever sleep they got, and the hero of Hogwarts only seemed to sleep in the arms of that Slytherin boy with the brown eyes that never left her.

As they found themselves in their seventh year, Ominis eventually trickled back into their lives. Having seen the changes made by Sebastian, and the reassurance from the girl he truly had given up after the damage he brought, Ominis decided that his found family was still better than his birth family. Despite that, he still had obligations at Yule until he was of age, leaving the pair behind as he boarded the train in Hogsmeade in December.

Sebastian wasn’t looking forward to Christmas this year. Not that he truly had for a while - Yule always brought forth the nasty reminder of those who were missing - a number that was increasing for him by the years. But this was going to be the first he was actually conscious for after his sister left. Given the previous dragon pox year he wasn’t sure what was going to happen this year.

Almost as if sensing his nervousness going into the holidays she approached him during dinner the last day of their examinations as she sat down gently and leaned a hand over to place on his arm, startling him out of his deep thoughts while he stared at his mashed potatoes.

Hey Bash, are you alright?

He looked up with a small jump as he saw her brow furrowed and her gaze laced with concern. Her sweet voice caused that ever present stirring to arise in his stomach as he sighed and turned towards her, making her drop her hand from his bicep in the process.

“I suppose” he said after a moment looking down and seeing where her thigh was almost pressed against his own and where she had laced her hands together in her lap after she let go of him.

After a beat of silence she spoke again.

“You’re feeling sad about the holidays this year aren’t you?” She asked and he almost let out a small yelp at how wonderfully she was able to capture exactly what he’d been thinking without him even having to explain himself.

Looking back at her empathetic expression he nodded. Of course she was understanding. She had always been nothing but caring since the day he’d met her.

Sighing, she averted her gaze and grabbed one of his forgotten peeled orange slices off his plate and popped it into her mouth, slowly allowing the fruits somewhat bitter-sweetness to coat her tongue before she swallowed and looked back at him.

“This is the time of year I feel the most alone” she admitted as she looked back up at him from her seat on the Slytherin bench.

Sebastian recalled the times she had mentioned growing up in a muggle orphanage in London. How abysmally poor and mismanaged it was run. How professor Fig had come, lying that he was a long lost relative to the nuns before “bringing her home” as he explained to the young witch that she had accidentally wound up at a muggle orphanage instead of a magic one when her parents were discovered dead by non magical policemen when she was an infant.

Spending her first Christmas at Hogwarts when Professor Fig was still alive had been wonderful. she’d been allowed to travel to visit him and Ominis and Anne during the last Christmas he’d had at feldcroft with the professor just during the day. Sebastian also remembered fondly how happy she looked celebrating Yule with them before she returned to hogwarts for the rest of the holiday: not before giving him a quick kiss to the cheek and scurrying off behind the late man. It had been Sebastian’s first decent Christmas since his parents died.

Now the pair sat in the great hall carrying the weight of loss and loneliness as they went uncertainty into the holiday season.

“I don’t want to go back to Feldcroft alone this year” he admitted bluntly as he continued to peel the orange, handing her a slice as he ate another. As they silently ate the fruit he kept thinking about how he felt conflicted in returning. A part of him hoped Anne would show up again but he knew deep down it was unlikely.

“What if… what if you didn’t go back to Feldcroft? What if you stayed here… with me?” She asked quietly without looking up at him.

Sebastian had wondered if he should stay at the school given he had no family to return to, but he worried she see him as imposing as hogwarts truly was the only home she had.

“You want me to stay?” He asked, unsure if she meant it but hopeful she did want him there.

“Of course I would. I always want you around. I think it’s silly for us both to be alone during Christmas if we have each other we could be keeping company.” she explained as she finally looked again.

“What about our dorm rooms-“ he asked as she shook her head with a small amount of blushing working its way to her face.

“We can stay in the room of requirement. Professor Weasley was returning home this year so she won’t be checking in and last anyone heard you were going to feldcroft. Only one who would know is Deek and he would never tell a soul. That is, if you are interested…” she explained to him.

He almost stuttered in his reply, taking in that the girl was willingly offering him to stay with her for an extended period of time alone and unsupervised. Sure he occasionally fell asleep there when she invited him but never for multiple nights in a row and with the intention directly.

“You want me to stay with you alone?” He asked and she gently nodded.

“I would. We can conjure a tree and decorate it together in the main room. Take care of the beasts in the vivariums and sneak down the library to get books to read… it could be fun” she reasoned and he nodded.

“Alright. I think I would really like that. Only if you’re sure you are alright with it. I can also sleep on the settee in the main room-“ he offered and she shook her head, opening her mouth to speak before pausing and looking down.

“You can if you prefer that, but I -“ she trailed off as she looked at his wild expression before continuing as she tucked one of those stray hairs so often around her face behind her ear as she admitted, “I do sleep better when you are around… the nightmares don’t usually happen when you are with me…” she told him.

He knew the feeling. In fact he knew it so well that the only peaceful sleep he often found was in her room when they fell asleep after hours of talking together. He never knew how but eventually once he would calm her down and they’d talk, he would wake up the next morning with her nestled against his body as if during the night they had reached over to hold one another.

“I-“ he paused, raking his own hands in his hair as he also admitted, “me too. I think the only real sleep I’ve gotten all year has been in the room of requirement”

“So you’ll stay? With me?” She asked and he nodded.

“I’d love to”

————————

The next morning he’d slipped out of his nearly empty Slytherin dorm room with a small bag over his shoulder of the stuff he usually brought home. Some clothes that weren’t his school uniforms, a few books, a quill and some ink, some snacks, the few toiletries he had and the journal she’d given him the previous year. As he snuck down the empty halls he came across the door to the room or requirement, now revealing itself to him with no problem, before he pushed inside.

Once there he could see the always lit fire in the main room, the vivariums grand entrances, along with all her potting and potions stations. Something about the place always felt so inherently homie and incredibly authentic to her.

“Uh…” he looked around seeing the absence of the witch who had invited him, knowing it was really early in the morning and she possibly could still be asleep, but usually she rose earlier. As he went to check the small bedroom that had appeared a few months prior, the door opened behind him and she shuffled in carrying a small basket.

“Oh, you’re already here. I snuck down to the kitchen for some breakfast and I was going to pop by the dungeons later-“ she started to ramble as he looked at her clothes.

Most of the time she wore her uniform, as most students did, but when she wasn’t in her robes she usually looked a tad mismatched. Often finding random articles of clothing with protection charms while exploring, she wore a tacky blend of them. The girl also usually opted for trousers not skirts or dresses as exploring was easier when you weren’t “worried about the wind blowing up or fabric getting caught” by her own words.

Instead she stood before him in possibly the first time he’d ever seen her without trousers or one of those hideous wool skirts all the students wore. She had a white blouse with an emerald green dress overtop that had only a few white embellishments along the skirt. It wasn’t the most elegant of dresses but it certainly was beautiful, especially since he rarely saw her like this.

He set his bag down and walked towards her, and upon further inspection she also had her hair tied back - not an uncommon sight - but she’d left most of it down, only pulling the front strands out of her way as she tied it back with a bow.

Very different from how he usually saw her.

Upon realizing he had been staring she felt self conscious, asking him “how do I look?” As she awkwardly stroked the material of her skirt down with her free hand.

“You look beautiful” he said without a second thought before he looked at her face, something he’d done so often but as her eyes softened he realized he shouldn’t affirm she looked this way only because of the clothes or change to her hair.

“You are beautiful” he spoke when he found himself planted in front of her, boldly admiring her face and not the wardrobe.

She noticed his correction along with the implications it carried as she fell under the wonderful scrutiny of his gaze. As she did so, she turned to take in his appearance with his lack of the Slytherin robes, swamping them for a simple shirt and vest as he stood in front of her. Usually disguised by school cloaks she could see how wide his shoulders had gotten, along with the exposed skin of his forearms from where he’d rolled his sleeves up. The skin that usually laid covered, now proudly displaying the freckled skin below the light dusting of dark hair, as well as his veins that went into his hand.

“You okay?” She heard his voice ask gently as she looked up from his hands to his face once more.

“Sorry, yeah, I mean thank you-“ she told him as she moved past him and walked down the stairs of the main room into the back area. Sebastian didn’t question as he followed her down into the deeper parts of the room.

Once they emerged in the area he noticed there was a large tree in the middle of the room with some pillow cushions on the floor in front of the fireplace. He realized she must’ve been awake a while to have conjured a tree and made the cozy nest where they likely would read together during the day.

“You’ve been busy” he teased as she walked them over to the fireplace and lifted her skirt ever so slightly so she could settle herself on the ground comfortably.

“I just wanted you to feel as at homey as possible” she explained as he sat down next to her, his long legs stretching out in front of them. Looking between their bodies he noticed her hand sat atop one of the cushions on the floor and he carefully plucked it from the space between them.

As he ran his fingers over the delicate and soft skin of her hand he tried to ignore the way his cheeks flamed at his bold action.

“I really appreciate the effort but you don’t have to play host you know? I am just happy to spend time with you” he explained as he looked at her, giving a reassuring squeeze to her hand to truly affirm his words.

She didn’t respond as she stared at the way he continued to clutch her much smaller hand. He worried she would seem disappointed by his request to remain as laid back as possible so he in turn shifted the conversation.

“You said you grabbed breakfast?” He asked and she pulled her hand back to grab the basket, opening it up with a smile to show the goodies she had brought. As she continued to go through the options he couldn’t shake the way her hand in his own had felt like the most incredibly natural act in the world.

———————

After a day of reading, exploring the room, decorating the tree together, and just talking he was on cloud nine. Everything had felt so comfortable, so natural, as they fell into a rhythm alongside one another.

That was, until it was time for bed.

Once again he insisted if she preferred him to sleep on the sofa he would more than happily oblige, understanding that sleeping in the same bed carried heavy implications. She swiftly reminded him that they had indeed fallen asleep in the very bed in her room of requirement before. But for Sebastian, those moments had never been intentional, and to do so from the jump felt like a much deeper step.

To go to bed willingly alongside one another felt like the kind of thing reserved for married couples, certainly not friends of the opposing genders. And especially not a friend he often dreamed about kissing… as well as other more intense and vulgar things…

Regardless, her sweet smile and bright big eyes told him it was okay in her book, and who was he to question that. So as she slipped off into the small bathroom area to change for bed he stripped himself of his clothes and quickly threw on his own night clothes, tossing his dirty ones in his bag just as she returned.

Sebastian hadn’t recalled ever seeing the nightgown she wore. Usually she had something much thicker and denser but this one seemed… thin.

It was suddenly as if Sebastian’s mouth had lost all its moisture and he couldn’t help but stare as the silk she wore seemed to hug areas he usually wasn’t granted access to see.

Since when had her breasts been this full? Has she always had such an intense dip in her waist?

“Sebastian?” She asked him in mild concern as he stared distantly, his mind very much elsewhere as she came closer to where he stood slack jawed. When she found herself in front of him, he looked at her like a wild animal that had been caught by a hunter.

“I…” he trailed off as he took one more, very obvious, look down at her barely clothed breast. The view from up close confirmed his suspicions that she had forgone any form of camisole as the brief outline of her nipple shown through the silk.

“What’s wrong?” She asked gently, not fully comprehending his reaction.

“I… I think I may need to sleep out there” he said shyly as he pointed to the main area, his voice much more painned than he intended it to sound. At his explanation her heart fell as she couldn’t comprehend his reasoning.

“But why? Did I do something to upset you?”

“What?” He asked her as he looked at her hair which he realized was now completely down, something he’d never been privy to see before. It made him want to reach out and touch the long strands and see if they were just as silky as he imagined.

Quickly snapping his eyes back to her suddenly saddened expression he firmly said “You’ve done nothing wrong”. This further plagued the girl as she couldn’t place why exactly he was acting in this manor.

“I don’t understand. I thought you said you slept better when we were here together… Don’t you want to share the bed?” Her hurt expression cut through him as he realized she was still not understanding that his resistance was not due to anything about her personally… more or less it was about his lack of control in regards to his wandering hands should they lay in the same bed all night.

“Come here,” Sebastian explained as he sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing her palm and pulling her to do the same. She simply sat next to him as he turned to face her, his knee slightly framing her hips and he did his best to try and ignore how close they really were.

I don’t trust myself.

If she hadn’t watched him say it she wouldn’t have believed he muttered the words.

“What do you mean-“ she asked and Sebastian almost grew frustrated with the girl for her lack of awareness at how much of a beauty she was, along with the fact he was so irrevocably in love with her it pained him.

“I mean you are too bloody gorgeous like this that I don’t trust myself to behave like a gentleman” he let out with a frustrated sigh. He knew he shouldn’t get so worked up, especially not to show frustration at her, but the throbbing starting in his lower region was making it hard to fully concentrate on his emotions.

All he heard was her gasp, fearing she’d seen the arousal in his night trousers but when he looked up, all Sebastian saw was the girl cautiously clutching her hair trying to make sense of his words.

Closing his eyes, he ran his hand over his face. Why was he such an idiot? She probably thought him some sort of delinquent. She probably hated him. She-

She had turned her body to face him and placed a hand on his shoulder when he opened his eyes.

“Bash” her timid tone called out and all he could muster upon having her so close was an eyebrow raise to acknowledge he heard her speak.

What if I don’t want you to behave like a gentleman?

Sebastian wasn’t sure he heard her correctly or if he was about to wake up from another one of those wet deans where he stained his sheets dreaming about being buried inside her.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for” he reasoned, knowing how innocent in many regards she seemed. It wouldn’t surprise him if no one had explained the marital act to her at all.

Instead of replying she simply inched closer until she was directly in front of him. Sebastian anticipated her to stop but when she cautiously climbed on his lap his breathing stopped. He kept his hand firmly planted at his sides as she settled herself atop him, her hands resting on his shoulders for support.

“I do know what you’re referring to,” she said bluntly and her boldness made him question just how much he might know of her. Behind those innocent gazes perhaps she’d been a temptress this whole time and he was just to blind by his affections to notice.

He hadn’t realized she had lifted one of his hands until he saw her concentrated expression examining his right hand up close. She studied the calloused skin of his palm before placing his open hand along her waist. Suddenly he felt the warmth of her skin through the silk nightgown along with the beautiful dip of her curves that laid underneath.

“I thought, but you-“ he couldn’t think of an intelligent response as she looked at his face. This led to the both of them staring at one another in silence as he kept his hand firmly planted where she’d left it.

Leaning forward she placed her fingers lightly on his chin, noting the stubble growing from his face as she traced over it. He’d shaved it in the morning but she always enjoyed seeing the small, dark hairs when he stayed with her after nightmares.

“If I ask you to kiss me, are you going to run away Sebastian?” She asked him while continuing to trace her fingertips over his face in the areas his facial hair had started to grow.

Sebastian didn’t reply as his hand finally tightened and curved over her waist. Lifting the other, he placed it on her cheek gently as he let his eyes move to her own.

“Are you sure? If I’m honest I don’t think I can ever let things go back to normal if we do that” he admitted to her with a sigh.

Of course he wanted her. Wanted to be with her. Wanted to kiss her. Wanted to lay with her. But if this was just some Christmas Eve fun that never would go anywhere he couldn’t stomach it.

Instead of replying she simply leaned forward into his hand, smiling to herself as she felt the warmth of his palm against her skin. Sebastian took a shaky inhale at realizing she was signaling he could go ahead while she looked at him through her heavy lidded lashes.

Exhaling gently he leaned forward just enough to ever so softly press his lips to hers.

He could hear the way she inhaled sharply through her nose before he felt the slight pressure of her returning the kiss. It was cautious. Unsure. But still she continued to press on physically and metaphorically.

Sebastian let out a groan as he felt one of her hands tighten in his dark hair, her fingers weaving in and out of the locks along his sensitive nape. In response he pulled her closer to him by the hands firmly planted on her waist and cheek.

Feeling herself more tightly wrapped in his embrace she gained more confidence in the movements, shifting on his lap ever so slightly and letting out a gasp and breaking the kiss when she felt that beautiful ache between her legs at pressing upon his hard thigh.

She had touched herself before, sometimes rutting into a pillow to find relief, but to use the boys thigh in seeking that feeling once more she felt electrified.

Sebastian couldn’t help but feel the full extent of the throbbing in his pants, when he realized she was humping his thigh to get off. The girl he assumed knew little, quickly proving him wrong as her gasps and sighs carved into his neck.

“Hey..” he told her, moving his hand down to her hip to still her movement for a brief moment as she removed her blush covered face from the privacy of his neck.

“I need some guidance on where exactly this is headed” he asked her.

“You’ve always rushed unto everything with no plan before. Why do you need one now?” She retorted one more trying to find the friction she desired on his lap.

Sebastian let out a soft groan as her center moved over his erection and he paused as he considered her words.

“That’s different… I don’t want to be disrespectful or hurt you. I have read that sometimes intercourse can be painful for the woman and I would never want to cause you harm” he explained and she rolled her eyes, catching him off guard with her frustration.

“I’m not made of glass Seb” she told him before aggressively beginning to kiss the side of his neck. Teeth nipping, lips sucking and tongue soothing the skin as she once again resumed rutting her hips.

“But-“

“Oh Merlin, would you just let me do it” she said frustratingly as she pushed his shoulders back until he fell on the bed, as she crawled over top of his shocked form.

Sebastian barely had a chance to get a word in before she was unbuttoning his sleep shirt. He didn’t say anything as he helped her slip it down his arms upon undoing the buttons.

“Do you want me?” She asked him curtly as she looked down at his half naked form with a surprised gaze.

“I - of course “ he told her.

“Then act like it, Sallow.” She told him and suddenly like a fuse had been lit, Sebastian flipped the girl onto her back and started kissing her shoulders and collarbones with vigor. He hadn’t even realized that as he flipped her over he had pulled her nightgown down significantly but he brushed it aside as he kissed her body.

She grew warm at how suddenly the reservations left him body and he responded so well to her noises and gasps. Sebastian seemed to so easily locate all those spots that made her feel weak as he kept kissing her body.

Soon he was reaching for the ties holding up her nightclothes and she leaned up to help him remove it. As her fingers moved to undo the latches he grumpily pushed her hand aside to do it himself.

“Been wanting to unwrap you like a gift for so long now. I want to do it on my own,” he gritted out against the shell of her ear before removing the top of her dress, pulling it up and over her body and tossing it onto the floor.

As she shivered from the draft in the room, Sebastian looked down and realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He assumed that even though she lacked a camisole she at the very least would have breeches, but no. She was fully naked as she lay underneath him.

“You sneaky little witch planned this didn’t you” he gritted out as he leaned down to take one of her pert little nipples in his mouth, groaning at the sweet taste of her skin along his tongue.

“I had hoped it could be a possibility…” she said through a whine as he flicked her now erect nipple with his tongue before moving to the other one.

When he successfully gave it the same attention he release it with a pop as he looked back up at her face hungrily.

“So that innocent routine was just an act?” He asked her as he moved back up her body and leaned his weight down on her. She could finally feel his arousal through his pajama pants and she shivered as he used his free hand to trace down her torso.

“Tell me what you hoped for… did you hope I would kiss you…” he trailed off kissing her now severely flushed skin before pulling back to look up at her through his thick lashes as he kept teasing. “Did you hope I would… touch you here?” Sebastian asked as he ran his fingertips ever so gently over the skin of her chest.

His index finger moved down painfully slow until it was right at the base of her opening and he looked into her eyes intently as he breached her walls with his finger, smiling as he asked “did you hope I would enter you here?”

Sebastian only brought his finger back out slowly as she whimpered at the loss of the stretch that she’d felt around his knuckles and upon hearing the noise he shoved it back in again causing her eyes to go wide as she clung to the quilt.

Shoving another finger alongside it, he continued to work her open so she’d be able to take him with ease. Curling his fingers and scissoring them within her, he took his time appreciating every noise she made and every pull her body made on his appendages.

He wasn’t done teasing the girl yet because just when she was nearing an orgasm he pulled his hand away to look at her exasperated expression with a grin as he shoved the soaked digits into his mouth and licked them clean.

“Well?” He asked her and she remembered vaguely he had asked her what she had hoped for.

“I wanted you to… be inside of me…” she admitted somewhat ashamed and he chuckled at her relapse into innocence.

“My fingers?” He eased as he brought them close to her opening once more before changing his mind and grabbing her hand from where it was still clutching the quilt and bringing it over his arousal before asking “or my cock?”

“Your… cock…” she said as if she was out of breath and he smiled down at her, suddenly breaking the trance he’d been in and softly stroking her messy hair away from her face as he laid down next to her.

“You sweet, darling girl” he cooed as he pulled her into his frame. “You may have whatever you desire” he told her before leaning up to passionately but delicately kiss her once more.

She carefully reached for the tie on his sleep pants as she undid the knot and pushed them off his hips. Sebastian reached down to loosen his breeches and pushed them off his body to assist her before maneuvering his way between her open knees, laying over her.

“I’m sorry if I got carried away…” he admitted, realizing that his brash actions may not have been what she wanted.

“Don’t be. I found it to be… quite stirring” she admitted and he laughed at her choice words. Caressing her cheek he leaned down to kiss the skin between her eyebrows before pulling back.

“We do this at your pace. Promise you’ll let me know if it stings” he asked her and she nodded, brushing off the concerns as she reached for his cock, only to have him palm his manhood with a slight groan as he shook his head.

“I mean it. I don’t want to hurt you.” He told her sternly and she looked up at his concern laced brow.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine-“ she said as she finally unwrapped his hand from his manhood, finally getting to feel the full size of him as she looked down in shock.

Sebastian was much larger than she imagined. Not that she’d ever seen one in real life before but, even from anatomical drawings she’d seen and the girlish whispers she realized he was much more endowed than she assumed.

“Oh…” she said as she looked down, losing her nerve as she saw the way his cock looked massive between their bodies and the way it pulsed under her scrutiny.

“We don’t have to do it if you are nervous” he told her as she tore her gaze from his manhood back to his face.

“I want to” she said firmly and he looked at her for any signs she was lying or feeling pressured.

“You’re sure?” He asked her gently, his thumb tracing over the skin of her chin as he held her face carefully.

“Just… go slow…” she told him, parting her legs further and reaching down to assist him.

Sebastian grunted as he felt her lining his head up with her opening and once he could feel they were properly aligned he let go of her chin to reach for her hand, holding it in his own as he encouraged her to look up.

“Look at me, don’t worry about what is going on down there alright? Just look into my eyes…” he offered and she nodded, pulling her gaze directly into his own as he ever so slightly pushed his hips forward.

Everything went okay for a few moments until her breath hitched and he paused, not tearing his eyes from hers as he stopped pressing in. When she looked as if she adjusted, he continued until the entirety of his head was inside of her, pausing once more.

He couldn’t help but sigh as he sunk into her, enjoying the warmth of her body around him as he parted her. Every so often he’d stop and ask if she was okay to keep going and she never told him it hurt but he could definitely see the discomfort at the new and what he imagined, intrusive, feeling.

However for him… it was like coming home, to a place he’d never known was so wonderful. Her body eventually opened up and accepted all of him and he found his mound of dark curls pressed against her own, slightly more manicured patch of hair atop her womanhood.

He could feel the press of her hip bones on his as he laid there, waiting for her to adjust to the fullness of his length within her body. Sebastian almost felt amazed at where it all had gone, as she was so small in comparison to him and he knew his cock well exceeded his classmates from their time sharing dorms and bathrooms.

“Do you think you’re ready for me to move?” He asked her with the softest tone he could muster despite feeling like he was going to burst free at any second.

“You’ll be gentle?” She asked timidly and he almost removed himself entirely at the tone she asked him with.

“I promise. I don’t want you to be in pain. Does it hurt now?” He asked her, not wanting to know the answer but needing to have it regardless.

“It’s moreso just… pressure? Maybe moving will help” she offered as an explanation and he nodded, ever so carefully pulling his hips back before slowly sliding back inside once more at a snail like pace.

Eventually his movements became more comfortable, confident, and controlled - as well as slightly faster.

At first her face scrunched up as she closed her eyes but after a moment she seemed to relax her eyebrows as her mouth fell open. Sebastian watched her reactions intently as she gave herself over to him.

Somehow he moved to an angle causing a pleasured noise to spill from her lips and he felt himself twitch knowing that she was slowly starting to feel good.

“Hey, I like seeing those pretty eyes Love” he said gently as he nudged her nose with his own, causing her to open them once more and blush up at him as he continued to press within her.

“There you are… so incredibly beautiful. You are an angel…” he whispered as he picked up the pace but kept his tone soft.

His words and his moments caused her to feel a stirring in her stomach that was similar to when she rode highwing and she would dive low.

“Sebastian…” She sighed his name as a mantra while she reached up to hold his cheek in her hand, the other curled around into his hair.

“My gorgeous witch… so lovely inside and out…” he continued to praise her as her eyes grew glassy at his sweet words and without thinking a tear rolled out of the corner of her eye, his thumb moving to catch it the second he spotted it.

“Did I hurt you-“ he quickly asked but she stopped him by leaning up to kiss him, her hips rising to meet his shallow moments as he groaned.

Pulling away she continued to hold him close as she whispered

I love you Sebastian Sallow…

Hearing her call his name like that, and saying she loved him, caused him to stutter in his movements and his cock begin to angrily throb looking for that final push of release.

He moved his hips much faster against hers as he leaned down and groaned out, “I - love you too… so much… uhhh fuck… need to… finish… where” he struggled to choke out as he kept his momentum while driving into her.

Realizing she was likely much further behind he had the foresight to lean his hand down and start playing with her nub, causing her back to raise sharply as she whimpered and clawed at his back.

“Need to pull, out-“ he grunted and she shook her head violently beneath him.

“No. Please. Don’t -“ she said through a loud sob, her body beginning to clench around him as she looked up at him fiercely saying “please finish inside…” she begged.

He didn’t need to ask twice after she gave him permission. Pushing harshly on her clit, she came with a scream and with that, her body pulled his cock so tightly that he followed.

As her body milked him for every drop he had he couldn’t help but feel the strong sense of pride running through his mind as he flooded her with his seed. He looked down watching her wide eyed expression as he continued to pump his load deep within her body, only slowing once he ran out of stamina before he collapsed on top of her.

Sebastian was spent as he laid on top of her chest, his face pressed against her sweaty skin and he slowly began trailing butterfly kisses across her neck at the same moment he felt her brushing his hair off his forehead to do the same.

Suddenly he heard the clock chime loudly in the main room, signaling midnight and he removed himself from the crook of her neck as he softened within her, his spill slipping out of her and between their thighs. It felt so overwhelmingly perfect and then he realized something.

“Happy Christmas” he whispered as he tucked her hair behind her ear and she looked up at him slowly realizing that he was indeed correct and they had made love on Christmas Eve through the official start of the day itself.

“Happy Christmas Sebastian…” she said, her voice slightly hoarse from the screech she’d let out and he leaned down to kiss her once more before pulling her body into his, neglecting the mess between them.

“Well, I for one think this Christmas is already off to the best start imaginable” he admitted before pecking her forehead and he smiled when she laughed, the chuckle causing both their bodies to shake.

“Of course you’d say that”

“What? I’ve got the girl I love in my arms. What more can a man want?” He asked her and he looked down just in time to see her face turn up to meet his.

“You love me?” She asked softly and suddenly it was his turn to chuckle.

“I think that what we just did goes to show that but yes, I do love you. Terribly so.” He admitted as he brought her closer into his arms.

“I love you too” she told him as he smiled, his eyes starting to grow heavy.

“I heard you the first time… although if you feel so inclined to repeat it, I can guarantee that’s not the sort of thing one grows tired of hearing” he told her as he drifted off to sleep holding her in his arms thinking about how much more pleasurable this was than going to sleep with dragon pox on Christmas.

THE END

[kingkatsuki]

Imagining Mitsuki trying to play matchmaker

And maybe she’s done that before, thrown girls at her son hoping he’ll hit it off with one of them and give her grandchildren. But it just royally pisses him off and he wants nothing to do with any of them. Then maybe she gives up for a while

But booooyyyyy oh boy, if you’ve caught his eye and she notices? She may not have introduced you, but she’ll make it happen. Just trying to help him out ya know?

She’d have to be as subtle about it as possible though. I could see him pushing you away just to spite her, even if he was head over heels for you.

I got a little carried away talking about this, but I just love the idea of Mitsuki meaning well, but never quite getting it right.

Warnings: Mitsuki tries to play matchmaker.

Word Count: 1.6k.

It isn’t that Mitsuki wants to force him into a relationship, she means well. She doesn’t like the thought of him coming home to an empty apartment each night, especially because she’s one of the few people who know about his night terrors. She’s been on the receiving end of many a call at four in the morning where he’s calling to make sure everything’s okay, or hearing him as a young man screaming in the night when he wakes up from another one of those nightmares. And although she’s taught him well, never needing to learn to cook, clean or use a washing machine— some companionship can’t hurt.

There was a time that Mitsuki thought that Bakugou wasn’t searching for love— that he’d already found it. His cheeks turning a violent red when she’d suggested that he was dating Kirishima, immediately reassuring him that she wouldn’t love him any less and that she’s happy he’s found someone as Bakugou tried to set her straight.

It isn’t that she ignores Bakugou when he says he’s not looking. She’s just worried, and maybe she’s right. Maybe he is lonely, and could use someone to help fill that void between work and sleep.

A mother can always tell, after all.

But Mitsuki’s methods can be a little unorthodox. Masaru tries to tell her not to meddle, that their son will find love when he wants to. On his terms, when he’s good and ready. But now he’s pushing thirty, not even a tabloid based rumour about a girlfriend and she starts to get antsy.

The window for grandchildren is slowly closing, and the hope is diminishing so of course she has to take matters into her own hands. It’s for Bakugou’s benefit, it’s like she’s doing him a favour.

At first Mitsuki is trying to set him up with someone based on attributes, wealth, success, career goals. Even though it’s difficult trying to find someone as motivated and strong as her son, she knows there are thousands upon thousands of women out there that would love to date him.

And poor Bakugou would prefer to be doing anything else with his time, sitting in his boxers playing video games and sipping a beer sounds far better than a twelve course dinner with portions so small he’s got to cook at home after. Especially with women he could care less about, listening to them drone on at him about their meaningless lives while he picks at his hors d'oeuvre two courses in.

No matter how perfect these women seem on paper, how compatible they are based on personality tests and star signs the dates never work out.

When this tactic doesn’t work, Mitsuki still won’t give up. Working in the fashion industry for as long as she has means she’s got a phone book full of gorgeous women. Personalities may not match up, but however bias it may sound she knows her son is an attractive man. So it’s easy to scroll through her contacts to find an array of women who would jump at the chance of a date with the Number Two Hero (also another benefit she slips in to conversation).

Bakugou tugs at the black tie around his neck as he stands awkwardly in the corner of another one of his mothers networking parties. Wondering how at 29 he’s still subjected to this kind of misery, thinking this would have stopped well into his teenage years. Groaning internally when he can see her out of the corner of his eye dragging a pretty young woman towards him. He knows the drill, knows exactly what that old hag is up to as she gives him a warning glare that only he can see. Turning to the poor girl with a faux sincere smile as she introduces her to him, her hand tightening around his forearm in warning as he offers his hand out to the poor girl.

But as quickly as Mitsuki arrived she’s gone, pretending to wave at someone in the crowd as she excuses herself and leaves Bakugou standing alone with this woman. Listening to her begin to rattle off ad campaigns or endorsements she’s been involved in like he gives a fuck, and talking about how many offers she’s received for her next one. It’s all he can do not to tell her that he doesn’t care and walk off as he notices that old hag watching from across the room as he throws back his whiskey and excuses himself to the bar. At least there’s enough alcohol to drown out the pain and suffering his mother is currently inflicting on him.

Mitsuki’s quick to join him, wine glass in hand, as she asks what he thinks and gushes about how pretty and perfect she is.

“Yeah? So why don’t you date ‘er then?” Bakugou scoffs as his mother rolls her eyes and he can tell if there were fewer people in the room she would’ve hit him upside the head by now.

It’s exhausting.

Groaning as he collapses into bed to find one new text message from the girl he’d been introduced to hours earlier. Knowing that his interfering mother had clearly given his phone number out— again.

But when perfect matches, and pretty faces don’t work Mitsuki changes tactic. After that, it’s just anyone.

Bakugou could be saying thank you to a girl in a coffee shop whilst he’s out running errands and Mitsuki is asking if she wants to go on a date with her son— she already had a boyfriend. Or the kind waitress at lunch who gave him a little extra spice in his ramen— she wasn’t interested in men. And even one time where Bakugou stopped to let a lady onto the train before him— she ended up posting about it all over social media before he’d even arranged the first date.

Deep down, there’s never anyone Bakugou truly wants. Dates are done out of obligation, and spending a few hours taking someone out for food or drinks means his mother is off his back for a few weeks or a few months depending on how well he can hide the immediate break up.

It’s a few months later when Bakugou realises the true lengths of how far his mother is willing to go to get him married off. He’s given a short, curt answer about his last break up. A “relationship” that Mitsuki thinks lasted for six months, but really there wasn’t even a third date. He’s out for drinks with the guys after work when Mina shoves her phone in his face, drunkenly squealing about how she didn’t realise he was trying to date people right now. And Bakugou didn’t realise himself— grabbing the phone from her as he assessed the profile. Thinking it was just another scam account trying to con lonely, desperate women out of their money, but he notices it. Pictures uploaded to the profile that only his mother has access to, key words that she’s used on many occasions to describe him.

That old hag. He groans, passing the phone back to Mina as he steps out of the bar to call his mother. Hearing the disappointment in her tone when he says he’s not interested. She doesn’t even try to hide the fact she made the profile, telling him there’s hundreds of women replying to his page. That he can have his pick of any of them if he wants to— but it just doesn’t feel right?

Until there’s you.

And there’s almost something about you that makes Mitsuki not try, because however much she loves and adores her son you’re almost too good for him? You exude happiness, positivity and love. And Bakugou is well, Bakugou.

And somehow you get together and you just work? Like there’s some sort of gravitational pull navigating you into each others orbit. And everything is just easy.

It’s not like expensive dinners, formalities and pretense. It’s comfortable, safe, warm. When Bakugou finds his place with you, he wonders how he ever spent so many years alone. Now he can’t ever imagine life without you, and Mitsuki is shocked when he appears at the door with you for the first time. Because for the first time, her son looks genuinely happy.

The most positive thing about it is now she no longer has to try and play matchmaker for Bakugou, the hard work is finally over. And now she has far more things she can annoy him with instead— like grandchildren and marriage.

And although she may hate to admit it, she’s happy that her son could pick a better match for himself than she ever could. No matter how much she insists that if she’d met you first she would’ve immediately set you two up on a date.

Bakugou finally found his own happiness in you.

But just because she no longer has to play matchmaker, doesn’t mean she won’t try to organise your wedding, your first home, your first child. And you better be prepared for her slightly unorthodox methods for that too— as she buys you pretty lingerie for birthdays, Christmas, Valentines—

“You can’t buy my wife lingerie for valentines, you old hag!”

“Maybe if you’d marry her she’d actually be your wife, you little brat. You should be grateful I’m trying to help.”

And oysters being the main course when she invites you over for dinner—

“They’re a natural aphrodisiac, you know”

“You can’t talk about sex so openly when we’re eating, you old hag. Jesus—”

Most family dinners include Masaru offering you a large glass of wine in the kitchen as you watch your spouses argue together.

But deep down Bakugou is just grateful that you stick around even though Mitsuki is almost a third wheel in your relationship. But you make the perfect team, and together you can handle anything— even his mother.

[carpenterswife]

HALF OF ME (ii)

SUMMARY: When Soldier Boy doesn’t return from Nicaragua, Vought creates a bullshit lie, talking him up as a hero who died in a devastating, world-saving accident. You’re handed down the mantle of leader as Payback, and spend your time trying to live up to how Ben had lead them, while also attempting to figure out what truly happened to him.

WORD COUNT: 2945

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Vought’s corrupt behaviour, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, death, gore, vomit, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, sexual content, smut; descriptions of sex.

SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST

Ben didn’t come home from Nicaragua.

Blown to pieces by some Russian laser weapon (what the fuck?), the.. chunky remnants of his body were taken away in a helicopter. Presumably to be experimented on.

It made you sick. Ben might’ve been an asshole, a deep rooted cunt, but he didn’t deserve to have his corpse be defiled like that. Maybe you’d just gone soft for him, that’s all. Maybe his hushed, sweet words and gentle touches, in his last few days, had softened your heart.

But you spent nights grieving your loss, hyperventilating in your room as you felt his fingers tracing your hips again. If you closed your eyes tight enough, you could see him.

You’d never planned for Ben to die. Hell, he hadn’t even planned to do. He was supposed to be ageless; a man who didn’t die. Vought would hide him away when it became suspicious, and he’d live peacefully… as peaceful as he could get, anyway. That was what was supposed to happen.

But his guts were strewn across the base camp in Nicaragua, and you’d never see him again.

It only took Vought three months to create a bullshit cover story.

After all, they couldn’t tell America their beloved Soldier Boy was actually at the site of a cocaine smuggling operation when he was blown to bits. No, that’d taint his image that Vought had spent literal decades moulding. He needed to die a hero. A man that would live gloriously in textbooks and stories.

A nuclear reactor meltdown is what they came up with.

Fucking bullshit, really.

The man was practically immortal (which did raise the question of, how the hell did the Russians kill him in the first place?). Some radiation wasn’t going to take him out. You’d watched him take two full magazines from an assault rifle, and get back to his feet like nothing happened.

And now he was dead. You didn’t know how. You wished more than ever that he’d let you accompany Payback on this godforsaken mission. Because you were utterly clueless as to what had gone down, and no one was answering your questions, tearing up whenever you mentioned the place.

You wanted — needed — to know how this was possible.

You knew Ben, better than anyone else on the team, even Crimson, who stood up on stage, talking about how good of a man Ben was.

Ben was a good man — to those he thought deserved to see that side of him. He was reserved and harsh and rude. And, yes, he was naturally an asshole. But, there was a part of him capable of respect and kindness and love. It was just stuffed deep within.

You’d been drawing it, slowly and carefully. You’d dug your hand in and grasped onto it, worming that side of him out of his heart with every night you’d spent cuddled into his chest. And he’d been warming. His touches had been gentler, his words softer, his eyes more admiring. You’d made him that. You were the only one he’d deemed worthy of his love and trust and respect.

Crimson had never seen that side of him. She’d never even come close to opening him up, seeing who he truly was.

As she talked fake stories of their blinding romance, about how he was such an incredible boyfriend, you just rolled your eyes in the audience. The only time Ben spent with Crimson outside of the public eye was when he was balls deep inside of her. And, even then, he liked to say she was a terrible fuck.

He also liked to say you were a good fuck. It was his favourite compliment; as funny was that was. As he railed you against his mattress, his hands keeping you firmly where he wanted you, he muttered praises.

That was different to the Ben the other women got. He’d degrade them: call them every name under the sun as he practically broke their pelvises. With you, sure, he was rough, but he complimented you; whispering and grunting softly, making sure you felt pretty and loved as he violently fucked you into unconsciousness.

And he always made sure you were okay afterwards. Ben giving aftercare was not something you’d expected, but he was damn good at making you feel safe and secure. He was a man of many talents.

The country was honouring him, as you begged for any kind of rational answer from Payback, from Edgar, from Vought. You were close to falling to your knees and pleading. But they didn’t care. Too busy basking in the boost of popularity that came from Ben’s death.

So, they upped their game.

And, when Vought erected a statue of Ben outside of Vought Tower, you threw up in the bathroom. The night you were named the new leader of Payback, you threw up again.

Apparently, it’s what Ben wanted. Which was bullshit. He wanted you in his kitchen with a dinner plate (lovingly, he’d told you that night. How could something like that be a compliment? You didn’t know, but it was Ben, so you guessed it was possible). But, you couldn’t fight it. So, nearly exactly three months after the last night you saw him, you took his place.

It felt wrong, and disrespectful, and you were lost and out of place. You had no knowledge on how to lead a team of asshole supes, that didn’t respect you or really like you that much.

Ben did this so easily. He lead Payback like a natural born leader. You lead like a baby giraffe learning to walk.

But you did it anyway.

“Soldier Boy was a national icon.” You held the microphone with shaking hands, willing them to stop, staring out at the gathering of civilians. It was wrong; America was mourning a death they’d all been lied to about. You swallowed your bile and pushed on. “And I am honoured to be taking his place as the leader of our brave and dedicated superhero team, Payback. I will be leading in his image, and his honour, and I hope that my work would make him proud.”

It was all bullshit.

You hadn’t written a word of this shit.

Edgar had shoved it into your hands and pointed you onto the stage. No warning. No cooperation. No opinion. Just… here you go, now go put on a show.

But, the audience was eating it up, and Edgar and your PA were giving you a thumbs up from backstage. They liked your performance. Ben, however, would be gagging in his mouth hearing this. He’d probably mock you, and claim you’d be better off just blowing his dick. He’d be right. Every word that was coming out of your mouth was corporate propaganda.

Your hands curled tighter around the microphones, knuckles whitening. You didn’t want to be here. You wanted to be home, as far away from Vought and these grieving people as fast as possible. “Soldier Boy was a respected, beloved hero, within your hearts, and Vought’s.” God, what cliche, sappy horseshit. “He was a good man, who lost his life saving millions.” You held back your scoff. “Vought will forever live in his shadow. We ask that you give us time and space to grieve our loss. Thank you.”

The audience applauded, loud and roaring, as you walked off stage.

The rage bubbling up in your chest was ready to burst, overflowing. This was all fucking sickening. No one was telling you anything. And they expected you to get on stage and do these speeches? To sit, cry and look pretty as you grieved the mighty Soldier Boy?

Fuck that. You were going to get answers.

There was some dark shit happening behind the scenes, and it had Vought’s grubby handprints all over it. The cover story. Payback’s silence. Edgar’s lack of care. None of it was adding up.

The moment the audience could no longer see it, your mouth curled to a scowl, heels clicking as you stormed up to Edgar. You were going to get answers, even if you had to physically get them. You’d find out what happened to Ben in Nicaragua, even if it cost you your head.

Stan Edgar, despite knowing he was now on the receiving end of your anger, stood tall. Cocky bastard. You could kill him with ease. But, of course, he didn’t care. There was only one person you’d ever seen Edgar cower from — Ben. To be fair with the guy, though, anyone would cower if Soldier Boy was screaming at you, inches from your face.

“What is going on?” Despite your rage, you kept your voice to a low hiss, not wanting to attract attention to your anger and frustration. “Can someone fucking explain to me, what is happening?” He began to walk away, and you followed. your words still flying out. “Why am I taking Ben’s place? How did he even die? You were in Nicaragua — what happened? Why did it take you so long to come up with that shitty reactor meltdown story?”

He turned to face you. You abruptly stopped, almost smashing into his chest with the suddenness of it, taking a stumbling step backwards. “I understand you’re upset.” You rolled your eyes at his professional tone, hands linked behind his back. Typical. “But I cannot answer those questions.”

“No, I deserve to know” You demanded. It was a losing battle, and you already knew that, but it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t try your hardest. “What. Happened?”

You weren’t getting an answer from Edgar. And that became clear when he turned his back to you, engaging in a conversation with his secretary, and leaving you in the dust. Glaring at the back of his head, you muttered obscenities.

If you weren’t getting it from Edgar’s lips, you’d get it another way.

Namely, breaking into his office that evening.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

Now, you weren’t a seasoned criminal, but Ben had taught you a thing or two. He was, very much, a criminal, and knew things you were never too curious to ask about. Like picking locks. Which was the most normal of his odd knowledge. (The fact that man has known the recipe to make a bomb was… terrifying.)

Picking a lock wasn’t in your expertise, but you remembered enough from what he’d shown you. Enough to kneel down in front of Edgar’s office door, and use a bobby pin to turn the lock until it clicked.

You grinned, internally thanking Ben for his… strange teaching techniques. Glancing down the hallway, both ways, you ensured it was empty; that no one was about to see you going against every rule in the book. Once it was cleared, you slipped inside the door with practiced ease, and shut the door behind you.

The sun was setting over the horizon — the golden hour hue lighting up the room enough for you to make your way over to Edgar’s shelves. You were determined to find something. Anything.

Something was going on. Something sketchier than Vought’s usual dirty work. And you were going to figure it out.

Your index finger skimmed the folders, peeking at the names. Until you found Ben’s — a cream folder with ‘SOLDIER BOY’ written across the front. Pulling it out, your eyes locked onto the bright red ‘DECEASED’ stamped under his name, your heart squeezing.

Swallowing thickly, uncertain, you flipped it open. Reasons over the contents, your eyes narrowed in concentration and then narrowed further in frustration.

It was nothing you didn’t already know. His past. The human trial experiment. Comp V. Ben had already told you all of this.

You glared at the deceased marker on the front of it, and then slid the folder back into the right spot. Alphabetical order, you noticed. You continued flicking through the files, trying to find something that could be labelled as suspicious.

Your ears perked at the sound of sudden buzzing from across the room. Like a dog to a squeaky toy, you rushed over, watching a piece of paper print out of the fax machine.

You snatched it up the moment it came out.

BCL-RED was the title word.

What the fuck was that?

You’d never heard of it before. It had to be an acronym, but your mind came up blank, as you racked it for any familiarity. Cursing internally, you scowled — damn fucking code words.

Before you could read ahead, a voice floated into the office from outside.

“Shit.” You hissed under your breath, suddenly very panicked. Returning the paper to the machine, you dashed for the door, poking your head out just enough to peek down the hall. You spotted Edgar just a ways down, facing away from you, talking to Black Noir. Quickly and silently, with expertise learnt on the field, you crept out of the office, taking off down the hallway in the opposite direction.

All the way back to your room, you muttered the words to yourself.

BCL-RED.

… BCL-RED.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

It wasn’t in any folders documents anywhere. Not even your PA knew what a BCL-RED was.

You felt like a dog chasing its tail. Going in circles, trying to find any clues as to what happened to Ben. Every day your suspicions rose. Something wasn’t right. Edgar was having hushed conversations. Payback was having meetings that excluded you.

Your trail lead you to Grace Mallory.

The young woman handed you a cup of coffee, hands scarred and calloused from her days at war. Quietly, you thanked her, sat comfortably on her sofa, cradling the coffee. “I have to respect your strength. Putting up with Soldier Boy every day.”

You cracked a smile, sipping the steaming coffee. “He was a… acquired taste.” Your laugh was breathy and quiet, thinking back to Ben and his unique personality. “What happened in Nicaragua?”

Grace sighed as she settled back. She was pretty. No doubt Ben tried to get in her pants while he was there. “It happened quickly.” Your brows furrowed, sitting forward, elbows on your knees. “We were ambushed. Your team couldn’t find their guns from their asses.”

“Sounds about right.” You murmured. “I told Ben he needed me out there. The stubborn dick wouldn’t listen. Looks like it bit him in the ass, eh?”

“Big time.” Grace agreed. “There was an explosion. It knocked me out.” You listened attentively, frequently sipping the coffee. “When I came to… your team were in ruins. Half of ‘em were dead, the other half injured.”

You chewed your lips for a few beats. “Black Noir still hasn’t recovered. Doctors said he’ll never be able to talk again.”

Solemn, she nodded. “Not surprised. His face was more hole than it was skin.” You grimaced at the imagery. “Crimson Countess told me Soldier Boy was dead. He’d been killed by some… laser, his body taken by a helicopter.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

You sat back. “Huh.” You murmured. “She’s lying.” You decided. The story wasn’t right. Sure, it was feasible, under different circumstances. But, in battle? When Ben was on his A-game? No way.

Grace looked confused. After all, why would Crimson lie about something like that?

You didn’t know.

But you were going to fucking find out.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

That night, you didn’t return to your room. Instead, you slipped into Ben’s in the dead of night. It hadn’t been touched since he left for Nicaragua. Since he’d railed you against the mattress and left you bed-bound for two days.

The air was musty, with dust covering each surface. Crawling onto the bed, you tugged open the curtains, letting sunlight in for the first time in months.

Every surface was covered in dust. And there were still drugs laid about. Half snorted lines of cocaine on the coffee table. Empty pill bottles decorating the floor. An ash tray that reeked of marijuana. God, this man had been like a teenage boy.

Flicking on the light, you gathered your bravery, and spent a few hours cleaning his room up. You didn’t know why. Maybe you wanted to feel closer to him. Feel like you were doing something for him. Ben hated it when things were messy. And he loved it when you cleaned up after him. You hated feeding into that old, sexist mindset he had.

But, god, you’d do anything right now to hear him demand you fetch him a drink.

After you cleaned his room, you stripped his sheets, gagging at the old stain. Definitely your cum. And his. Gross. You stuffed it into a basket, kicking it away from you.

Okay… remember to not touch that again without gloves.

As you finished the last, final touches, a glint of metal on his bedside table caught your attention. Curious, you padded over, expecting a pistol.

Instead, you found a chain.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Delicately, you placed the necklace in the palm of your hand, brushing your thumb over the metal surface.

His WW2 dog tags.

Swallowing thickly, you blinked back your emotion. Why the fuck were even so sad? You weren’t even dating the man. Sure, you’d been his friend for years. You’d been protecting him. He’d been protecting you. You’d been his right-hand man practically.

But, still!

With a lump in your throat, you carefully placed the dog tags over your head. The dog tags were cold against your chest. You tucked them under your shirt, inhaling shakily.

With one last look around the room, you turned around and walked out, with a basket of laundry balanced on your hip.

You weren’t going to rest until you found out the truth. That was for sure.

A/N: sorry for the lack of soldier boy in this chap :( he makes his grand return next chapter !!! in all his sexist glory lmao. he’s so fun to write, tho i do feel like a horrible person writing some of the shit he says. definitely fun to explore this universe and all its fucked up possibilities. thank you guys for the support on chap one :’) <3 next chap will also be longer promise

banners in use by @cafekitsune

TAGLIST: @onlyangel-444 @deans-spinster-witch @fumolemon @anundyingfidelity @mostlymarvelgirl @aaronhotchnerlover @delaynew @let-me-luve-you @yvonneeeee @livsh20 @thej2report @lostin-jensenseyes

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Invisible Smoke - Four

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he doesn’t run.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 10.9k

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED

A/N: I do not keep a tag list!! Life is still weird but thank you all for sticking with this little story of mine. I really appreciate all the kind words you sent on the last chapter. Only one more chapter to go!

Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, stalking, bodily injury, domestic abuse, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Also, Jake is a (stubborn) simp.

Someone had slashed your tires.

Well, you shouldn’t say someone. You knew who had done it. It didn’t exactly take a doctorate to read the context clues—but you were pretty sure your insurance would drop you if you put in another claim, so you begrudgingly prepared to pay the hefty towing fee to the nearest tire shop and fork over even more cash for four new tires. This was one of the few times you wished your little bungalow actually had a garage. And god, you were so tired of this. So tired of the mind games he thought he was playing with you. He thought he was clever. But it was all just so repetitive. You had half a mind to just wait, out in the open, to let him do what he wanted just so it would be over.

It had only been two days since the dog fight football game and the following get together at the Hard Deck. Two days since you caught Jake’s eye at the water’s edge and felt your entire chest twist. He knew now. He knew what you were hiding.

You hadn’t been able to read the look in his eyes but Bradley had taken you aside before you slipped away for the night and basically told you that Jake, for better or for worse, was wanting and willing to help. “Give him a chance, Punch. Don’t you think he deserves that, at least? And you deserve to be happy.”

“When did you become a fortune cookie, Bradley?”

But you wanted to believe him. You did.

But Luke had made you glaringly aware that you weren’t really capable of having a relationship aside from a handful of hours with someone who’d forget your name by morning. You had expected to feel some sort of relief in knowing that Jake hadn’t wanted to wash his hands of you after learning about Luke, but all it did was make you feel like you were painting an even larger target on Jake’s back. He really did want to play hero, didn’t he?

You pushed the thought away as you texted Natasha, telling her you’d be late for brunch and she was quick to tell you not to worry about the tow, she’d send one of the boys to get you to the tire shop. You were expecting Bob and his reliable GMC; he’d been invited to brunch as well anyway.

But a familiar Ford F-250 pulled up instead and Jake stepped out of the cab, looking like a GQ model in a tight Henley and jeans that hugged his thighs a little too well to be fair. He looked at your car and your destroyed tires for just a moment before turning his gaze to you. Your heart gave an answering leap but you tried to not let it show and rolled your shoulders back as he took wide strides toward you.

“Did he do anything else? Did you check your windows-”

“You shouldn’t be here.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could even pretend to think of a more polite greeting.

Jake arched an eyebrow before setting his hands on his hips. “Well, that’s just too damn bad, Punch. I am here and I’m not leaving until you tell me what's going on. Now, did anything else happen?”

You wanted to send him away. Wanted to keep him safe. But he was here. He was here and looking at you with those stupidly beautiful green eyes. “It’s just the tires,” you muttered, giving in. At least in this regard. You could handle everything else later.

Jake’s mouth set in a thin line before he moved to look at your tires again. He dug at one of the tears, the edge of his finger easily passing through the ruined rubber. “Jesus.”

Perhaps you should have been surprised when he turned back to the bed of his truck and pulled out a tire and then another and another until four new tires were stacked neatly beside your car. But you had a feeling Jake would always be three steps ahead of you. Infuriating.

“Please tell me you didn’t buy me new tires.”

“All right. I won’t tell you that.”

“Seresin, you can’t be serious. Tell me how much I owe you.”

Jake leaned forward just enough to steal the keys from your hands and popped open your trunk before handing them back. “I don’t want your money.”

“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” you retorted as you followed him to the back of your car. “Tires are expensive! I can afford it. Just let me pay you! You’re already saving me money by not making me take a tow truck. And I might actually make it to brunch on time because of you, too. If you don’t give me an amount, I’ll have to guess.”

Jake moved the mat in your trunk and found your jack and tire iron and then gently grasped your hand that you’d set on the lip of your trunk and moved it before closing it. He then tugged you closer with that damn dimpled smirk and stared down at you with his stupid green eyes. “I’m not taking your money.”

“I will shove money into your pockets at the most inopportune moments and ruin every conquest you set your eyes on.”

But the threat fell flat as Jake’s smirk widened. “So, you’re planning on sticking your hands down my pants…repeatedly?”

Heat washed over you in an angry wave and you pulled your hands out from under his with a grimace instead of a snarl. “Only you would say something like that.”

His smirk continued as he stepped back and set the jack beneath your car and started to twist. “I’m not taking your money.”

“I’m paying for your drinks at the Hard Deck forever.”

“No.”

As he twisted the jack, your eyes were drawn (inevitably) to how his sleeves strained with his moving muscles. That shirt was fighting for its life and you were ogling him like a piece of meat (again). This whole situation was ridiculous! The man who’d tried to kill you twice had slashed your tires and you were flirting (possibly, maybe) with Jake like you didn’t have a care in the world. All of this was wrong. And incredibly stupid.

“Whatever. I’ll do what I want,” you lamely replied, hoping it sounded stronger than it felt.

“I’m sure you will, Punch.” Each word was dripping with something you couldn’t and wouldn’t name and you hated that Jake was able to easily have you smiling when he was there to fix a problem you created.

The tires were changed out within an hour and you invited Jake inside for a glass of water and asked if he wanted to tag along to brunch, it was the last you could do, right?

“I wouldn’t want to intrude-”

“You’re not intruding. Bob’ll be there, too.” The brunch had been an impromptu plan anyway, cobbled together while you’d worked on Natasha and Bob’s jet and listened to Maverick and Cyclone berate the Top Gun students who had started another fight on the tarmac (apparently having learned nothing from the dog fight football games). You’d just been happy your pilots hadn’t been caught in the crossfire this time.

Jake looked at you over his half-finished glass of water and you had to keep yourself from shrinking away from his gaze. His glass clinked against the linoleum as he finished and you tried not to notice how he licked his lips free of the last few droplets of water. “So?” You pushed out, trying to keep your voice level. “Wanna come along?”

Jake’s silence turned at something in your stomach and Bradley’s not-at-all true observation was echoing at the back of your mind before Jake’s smirk returned. “You’re going to try to pay for brunch, aren’t you?”

You hadn’t even thought about it but… “Well, I invited you, so-”

“No.”

You groaned, snatching the glass from him and setting it in your dishwasher as Jake chuckled behind you. “You’re being a child.”

Jake rounded the corner, pushing further into the kitchen behind you, and crossed his arms over his chest (and no you weren’t looking at his arms again). “Why won’t you let me do anything nice for you?”

You frowned and matched his stance and crossed your arms, too. “I let you do nice things. You came with me to Junior’s party with me.”

“After you drove me there and tried to have me take credit for your gift and you introduced me to that group of brass to help me with my career.”

“That was a coincidence.”

“But you still did it.” He stepped closer and you hated that it was instinctual to take a step back, too. “Want to tell me why everything I do for you has to be reciprocal?”

That wasn’t the question you were expecting and your fingernails dug into the meat of your arm as you tried to keep your face neutral. “There’s give and take to everything. And I… You should just let me pay you.”

“I’m not gonna let you pay me, Punch. And you’re going to learn that not everything is a give and take. Who taught you that, anyway?”

God. You hated this. You hated these questions and the soft look in his eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Jake scoffed.

“Why?”

You could see Jake’s jaw clench, tendons working and tightening. But as quickly as it started, it stopped. He just shook his head and the tense silence in the kitchen continued to stretch until it was finally broken by Jake’s next question. “Are we ever going to talk about it?”

And you knew what he was asking. And you wanted to hate that he was connecting dots that you had tried to erase. “What is there to say? You know everything now.”

“I heard it from Rooster, not you. It is your story, Punch.”

“Rooster knows it just as well as I do, I think,” you muttered with a shrug, trying not to shrink away from him. “What else is there for you to know?”

Jake stepped forward, enveloping you in the scent of his expensive cologne and tinge of jet fuel that seemed to cling to him as he closed the distance to stand at your side and brush his arm against yours. “I want to know everything. Haven’t I told you that?”

You gnawed at your lip for a moment before stepping away from the counter. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Luke was an asshole then and he’s an asshole now. I should’ve seen the signs, I get that. I do. But he was so good when he wanted to be. And after being an afterthought for most of my life, it was nice to pretend that someone was choosing me.” This was just pathetic. Stop talking. Stop talking. If he hadn’t thought of washing his hands of you before, he was surely doing it now.

“What do you mean you were an afterthought?”

You rolled your shoulders and turned just enough to look at him before glancing at the little clock above your oven. “Doesn’t matter now. But, if we leave in the next five minutes, we’ll probably beat Natasha and Bob to brunch. So, are you coming?”

**

The ride was mostly quiet on the way to the restaurant Phoenix had picked overlooking the water. But Jake knew you were thinking about telling him something else as you sat in his passenger seat, watching the road pass your window. So, he just told himself to be patient. Again. It was a bright spot to finally know what you looked like in his truck. God knows he’s imagined it more than he’d like to admit, like some lovesick teenager.

You were picking at your cuticles without taking your eyes off the passing scenery. Jake had never seen you nervous, not like this. Even when the Daggers had to ship out for a short deployment and you had to watch them all take off from the carrier, you didn’t act like this. He watched you lean forward just a bit and your eyes narrowed and then it clicked. You weren’t watching the world go by—you were keeping an eye on the cars following the truck in the side view mirror. You were making sure Luke wouldn’t try to run you off the road again.

Jake looked in the rear view mirror and saw sedans, coupes, and a handful of SUVs, and a smaller number of trucks. But not a single black charger. It was clear for now. But you still picked at your cuticles and didn’t peel your eyes from the window.

Jake reached out and set a hand over yours, stilling your picking. You jumped under the touch and Jake curled his fingers over yours a little tighter, trying to anchor you to something else a little less destructive. “We’re okay, Punch, all right?”

You looked at him and Jake hated that he had to look at the road for safety purposes when you searched his face for something. “For now,” you said in return, once again turning to look out at the cars.

Jake squeezed your hand again and didn’t let go even as you muttered the next handful of directions to the restaurant. He awkwardly shifted into park and took the keys out of the ignition after finding a spot in the steadily filling lot. Your shoulders were slumped as you turned back to him, face unreadable except for the pinch between your brows that he wanted to smooth with a brush of his thumb.

(Maybe one day.)

“All right. We’re gonna go in there, eat our weight in overpriced waffles and then I’m going to take you home and double check your windows and locks. Okay?”

Your eyes swept up to look up at him and Jake felt that familiar warmth starting to unfurl in his chest. Your thumb swept over his knuckles but he wasn’t sure if you were aware you were even doing it. “I can’t afford to buy you your weight in waffles.”

Jake barked out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re not going to buy me brunch. Stop trying.” He had to bite back the pleased smile he felt growing when he heard your gasp after he raised your joined hands and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“You are ridiculous.” Your voice was tight as it wheedled out from between your lips before you (slowly) pulled your hand from his and reached for the door handle. “C’mon. We need to get on the list.”

The air was tinged with the scent of sea salt and syrup as he followed you into the glass and metal building, already teeming with people. You were quick to give your name and group size to the hostess who said it would probably be a fifteen minute wait. Just as you turned to grab one of the oddly shaped bar stools near the door to it for your name to be called, Phoenix was striding in, too. She pushed her sunglasses up her hair before sweeping you into a hug with a loud kiss to your cheek. “I knew you’d beat me here.” Then her dark eyes dragged to Jake as he stood behind you. “Hangman. What’re you doing here?”

“He drove me,” you said. “I figured it would be fine.”

“Of course it is,” Phoenix said, waving it away but Jake knew the gleam in her eyes. She wasn’t quite finished. “You two arrived together?” She asked, eyes bouncing between you and Jake.

“Ken fixed my tires. Figured I could treat him to brunch as a thank you.”

Jake had to groan at that, knocking his hand into your hip and earring a halfhearted swat at his arm in retaliation. “I told you, you’re not paying for me.”

Phoenix hummed and anchored her gaze on Jake and he fought the urge to stand a little straighter. “Yeah. That was awful nice of him. When you told me that the neighbor kid slashed your tires, I thought Hangman would be a gentleman and drive you to the tire shop. Not fix them himself.”

Neighbor kid. You had lied to Phoenix? Granted, her text had just said that your tires had been slashed and that you’d needed help—it wasn’t exactly filled with details. Jake had assumed that she had known. But that didn’t matter now and he plastered his well-used smirk on his face. “Well, I’m a-”

“Don’t stroke your own ego, Bagman.” She then glanced at something over his shoulder and smiled. “Bob just got here. Bob!” She threw up a hand to grab the WSO’s attention and he jogged toward the group when he spotted her. He nearly collided with a waitress and they both apologized—profusely—before going their separate ways. By the time Bob reached their little group, his face was a vibrant and familiar shade of red.

“Nearly swept that pretty girl off her feet, Baby on Board.” Jake braced for the hit he knew was coming and winced when Phoenix’s fist collided with his arm.

The group was seated soon after and Jake had to bite back a grumble when Bob was the one to pull out your chair for you when you reached the table. When Jake went to do the same to Phoenix, she hit him again.

Bob was nearly the shade of a strawberry when he realized the woman he’d nearly bowled over would be your waitress and nearly dropped his silverware roll when he noticed her striding over to the table. Food was ordered—both you and Jake ordered waffles while Phoenix wanted to try the brioche French toast and Bob wanted eggs Benedict with steak—and mimosas (and pineapple juice for Bob) were poured as Phoenix regaled the table with her run-in with a guy at the gym on base. The Ensign hadn’t realized Phoenix a) outranked him and b) wasn’t interested in bulging muscles and whatever the younger man could(n’t) provide. The interaction ended when Phoenix “politely” challenged him to a friendly competition to see who could handle more weight while doing hip thrusters. Phoenix started out with thirty pounds more than him and he called her a dyke so she had him barred from the gym and probably had a meeting with his commanding officers on Monday, too.

You giggled and tipped your mimosa flute into Phoenix’s before you both took a sip. It was good to see you smile like that.

The waitress came by a few minutes later with the food and she was quick to divvy up the plates but Jake watched her make sure Bob’s was the last plate and she stood at his side and carefully set it down, making sure to bend down just enough to brush against his arm. “Careful, the plate is hot,” she practically purred.

(Phoenix quickly had Jake’s laugh turning into a poorly disguised cough when she sent him a look across the table.)

“I’ll be careful. I can handle it.”

Then the waitress actually giggled and stood straight, setting her hand on Bob’s shoulder for just a moment. “I’m sure you can. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” She then turned and walked away with an exaggerated sway in her hips which Bob completely missed because he was busy unrolling his silverware.

The group watched him as he carefully cut into his meal and shoved a bite between his lips. He went to take another when he noticed the stares. “What?”

“Robert,” you started, voice strained to avoid a giggle. “She was flirting with you.”

His fork froze before it reached his mouth.”No, she wasn’t. She told me the plate was hot.”

Phoenix reached over and patted her back seater’s shoulder. “Oh, Bob.”

The other man’s blush returned and he shoved the bite between his lips. “How is telling me that the plate is hot flirting?”

Jake shook his head and fought a smile of his own. “Listen, do you like her?”

Bob chanced a glance at the waitress at the hostess booth and immediately ducked his head when she caught him and wagged her fingers at him with a wink. “She’s beautiful.”

“But?” Jake prodded, hearing a slight hesitation. He had always been good at reading people (you were an exception), and Jake had played therapist to a handful of the Daggers since he proved he could be someone other than Hangman. He wanted Bob to be happy.

“But I don’t know. She looks like she’d eat me alive.” He fiddled with his fork. “Can we talk about something else?”

Jake was the one who shifted the conversation to the insufferable group of Top Gun pilots that would thankfully be leaving soon enough. A friendly bet was placed on who everyone thought would actually get the trophy and Jake tried not to smile too much when Bob knocked his foot into his as a quiet thank you and you, seemingly unaware of Bob’s quiet gratitude, set your hand over Jake’s arm for a moment in your own show of appreciation. As soon as it happened, it was gone again.

That was okay. Jake was determined to have it happen again.

Brunch continued on and finished after another round of drinks and splitting a funnel cake that the waitress insisted they try. Jake was sure the woman pouted after not receiving Bob’s phone number when he signed his check but he wouldn’t mention it. Jake liked this strange bit of normalcy. With you. He even if both Bob and Phoenix made vague threats against his life if he hurt you. Jake was determined to have more of these moments with you. Even if you grumbled about Jake hustling to get to the truck before you so he could open your door.

The tension in the cab on the way to brunch was absent now and Jake didn’t even care when you teased him about his choice in radio stations—calling him a cliche for listening to early Tim McGraw. But you said it with a laugh and Jake had to laugh, too. He liked that it was you who brought up Bob and his interactions with the waitress.

“I want Bob to be happy. And he’s mentioned once or twice that he’d like to have a family.”

Jake thought for a moment before the perfect person popped into his thoughts. “I know a girl.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t trust your taste in women.”

And Jake had to laugh at that. Had to. You were his taste in women. But the person he had in mind for Bob would be perfect. “She’s a CPA. Wears glasses. And she only drinks ginger ale despite helping Penny with the Hard Deck’s taxes. And she’s the only person outside of Texas that I trust with my tax return.”

Your face scrunched and Jake knew you were thinking it over. “Just because they both wear glasses and have an affinity for Seagram’s doesn’t mean they’d be a good match.”

“Just trust me. It might take a minute to get her to look him in the eye-”

“She’s shy?”

“So shy. It’s adorable. And just what Baby on Board needs.”

You scowled at him but he knew you didn’t really mean it when you knocked your shoulder into his over the center console a moment later. He eventually pulled into your driveway and threw the truck into park before turning to you but you were scrambling out of your seat and up to your front door before he could even get a word in edgewise.

Oh.

Jake wasn’t sure if he’d ever been rejected as soundly as that before. But then he saw you waving him forward from your front stoop and Jake nearly clocked himself in the face with the seatbelt buckle as he hurried to follow you inside. He shut your door behind him, engaging just two out of the five locks as you hurried toward something just down the hall.

“Punch?”

“Just a moment!” You yelled in return.

Jake resisted the urge to settle on the couch again, like he’d done weeks ago. Everything seemed different now. You weren’t trying to push him away and he could hear you shuffling something in the other room and he was suddenly struck with a daydream of coming home to you, waiting for you to notice his presence and smiling when you saw him. “You’re home!” As soon as the vision came, it was gone, and Jake shook himself a little as if that would help him forget what he’d conjured up. What he’d wanted since the moment you first called him Ken, even if he never admitted it out loud.

You walked back into the living room and slapped something down onto the small table you had lining the back of your couch.

“Whatcha got there, Punch?”

Your answering smile was all teeth, like a cat who got the cream and Jake saw that it was a fifty dollar bill as it peeked from between your fingers. “Well, I added up how many miles it is from base, to my house, to the restaurant, then back to my house and then guessed on how many miles you get per gallon. And, you use premium gas, right? Either way, this should be enough for gas, but if you use diesel, this should cover it.” You slapped another fifty atop the first after pulling it from your back pocket.

Jake looked at the stack of cash and then back at you before he sighed, a long put-upon sigh that he knew was obnoxious but it was worth it when he heard you try to stifle a laugh. God. You were relentless.

“First, I don’t know how to break this to you, but you’re awful at math. Like, so bad.”

“Hey!”

“And second, I’m still not taking your money.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“I’m being a friend, Punch. Friends drive each other around and help them when they need it. And I’m willing to bet-“

“I’ll take that bet.”

Jake continued on, ignoring you, “-that you wouldn’t expect to be paid back if our places were switched.”

You pulled your lips into your mouth for a moment and drummed your fingers against the money. “I lost that bet. Guess you’ll have to take the money.”

Jake groaned but he could feel a laugh starting to bubble in his chest. “You’re impossible.”

**

It was too soon to call this a victory, but you were sure you were closing in on one. He would take the money and then you could pretend to feel fine about everything he’d done for you. Sure.

“Actually, I have something you could do if you’re so hellbent on paying me back.” Before you could ask what he meant, he was unlocking your door and jogging out to his truck and pulling something out, tucking it behind his back as he returned. “Can you sign this for me?”

Then he dropped a purple book in your hand and your stomach dropped to your feet as you looked at the gold lettering across the cover. “You snooped!” You said, too embarrassed to be angry. You held the book up to your chest as if that would guard you from his knowing look or the embarrassment starting to churn your stomach.

“You knew I would! Why’re you surprised?” His smile was back and he took a step toward you. You took a responding step back until he was crowding you against your bookshelf, hands landing on the shelves on either side of your shoulders. And it could have been a threatening stance, an unnerving cage, but all you felt was safe. Safe as he blotted out the rest of the world and it was just you and him and your books in the quiet of your home.

You should not feel like this, you knew that. It was stupid and dangerous and you couldn’t stop it. What had happened to your resolve that you had just yesterday for keeping him at arm's length?

Your fingers drummed against the paperback and you hurriedly flipped it open when your eyes tracked down to his mouth. Oh. “Should I sign it ‘To Ken?’ Or-”

“Could you actually sign it for my sister Mia? She reads your books in her book club.”

“Oh.” Was all you could say. That was…that was actually really nice to know. You knew people read your books; Danny had framed a newspaper clipping showing your second book reaching a top ten spot one of the Best Sellers lists and had gifted it to you for your last birthday. They were mildly popular, you knew that. But to actually be confronted with the fact that someone you vaguely knew was reading your books was something else. You reached back and grabbed one of the pens you kept in a cup on the shelf. “Mia? She’s your oldest sister, right?” A quick glance up at Jake had your heart twisting. His look was too soft. Too happy.

“Yeah, Punch. That’s her.”

You took the time to write your pseudonym with extra flair and then added a heart next to Mia’s name, too. “Is this for her birthday or anything?”

“She’s…” Jake paused for a moment. “She’s just going through a rough patch right now. Your books make her smile.”

The pen stalled on the page for just a moment before you shoved at his chest to get him to back up just enough to grab at your ARC for your newest book and quickly scrawled, Wishing you expensive champagne and good memories! Happy reading! You then signed your name again and added a half dozen hearts next to Mia’s name at the top of the page. You slapped both books against Jake’s chest with a frown. “That book hasn’t been released yet, so I may get in a bit of trouble with my publisher if she tells anyone.”

Jake’s hands covered yours on the books and the toe of his shoe knocked into your socked feet as he moved closer, dragging your attention back to his stupidly handsome face again. “She won’t tell anyone but I know I’ll probably get an earful about how I got them.” His thumbs brushed against your knuckles and you would swear that you could feel it behind your ribs. “Where’d you get that name anyway?”

You almost snorted at the way he phrased that question, like you found it on the side of a cereal box. “My parents were obsessed with Stephen King—they actually met at a book club specifically for King’s books. My sister, Georgie, was named after the kid who got their arm ripped off at the beginning of It. And my brother, Danny, is named after the kid in The Shining, Danny Torrance.”

“And you? I don’t think I’ve read your name in his books.”

It was a fair enough question. King had dozens of books and Jake didn’t seem like the type to clamor for the newest release. “I was named by my grandparents after they discovered the reasoning behind my sister’s name. If my parents wanted to stay in the will, I had to have a name they picked. Of course, when my brother was born, my parents picked something a little more innocuous so they wouldn’t rock the boat again. But, anyway, to actually answer your question; I took my siblings’ names as a sort of thank you to them. Georgie became Georgia and I took Danny’s literary counterpart’s last name. And Georgia Torrance was born. I wrote most of my books when I had downtime on deployments. I took a chance and sent it off to an agent and I got a nice contract with a moderately respectable publishing house. It isn’t Stephen King money by any means, but I can upgrade my plane ticket to Business Class if I wanted to once or twice a year.”

“Your parents must’ve gotten a kick out of that.”

You tried to fight the sigh you felt growing in your throat but lost. You also lost the wherewithal to keep a single secret from him. “I don’t know. I don’t really talk to them.”

“What?”

“After Danny got sick, all of their attention was on him, which I understand. I do. But I was still just a kid who needed her parents every once in a while. But it was like I ceased to exist to them until they remembered I could help with the hospital bills. Georgie was already out of the house and getting her degree and would call but it wasn’t the same. I kinda gave up on having a relationship with my parents after they forgot about my rowing meet and I waited to be picked up for three hours before eventually just walking home.”

“Punch-”

And once you started, you couldn’t stop, like a can of pop shaken and bursting. “Danny was hooked up to like six different machines and was high off his ass and he apologized for all the…all the bullshit. I told him it was unnecessary. He was sick. I’m just happy he’s healthy again.”

God. You really knew how to ruin every moment, didn’t you?

Jake set the books on the shelf just beside your shoulder but was quick to lean over you again and you hated how Jake really was a certifiable blueprint for a romantic literary hero. You could write a single description of him in your next book and you’d know it would skyrocket to the top of the Best Sellers lists but you had been actively avoiding trying to piece together a story from your life. And, as if he knew you were debating something, the bastard actually propped his other arm up on the bookcase and leaned over you. Oh god. He was doing the lean and was going to ask you something about your fucked up childhood.

Shit.

Alarm bells were ringing in your head, letting you know that this moment could be disastrous. So, you decided to not let it go on any longer. “Jesus. Sorry. I really know how to kill a good time, huh? I think I’ve taken up quite enough of your time for the day. Let me know what Mia thinks of the books, okay?”

You ducked beneath his arm, intent on leading him to the door, but Jake grasped your hand and pulled you to a stop. “No, c’mon, Punch. Don’t do that again. Don’t shut me out. I’m happy you feel like you can tell me stuff like that, that you’re comfortable enough to trust me with that. Don’t pull away again. Not from me.”

You knew that if you looked at him right now, his green eyes would be wide and pleading. So, you just didn’t look. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do right now. I don’t know why you’re doing this, Jake.”

“Doing what?” He asked softly, as softly as his hand on yours.

“Buying me tires? Driving me around? Being…being this fucking nice to me all the time when I’ve only been a dick to you?” You asked as you felt your chin wobble. “Why?”

Jake was quiet for a moment. Just a moment. “You know why.”

“No! No, I don’t because…” You couldn’t finish the sentence because then it was real, it would be real and you didn’t know how to deal with that again. You looked up at him and tried to remember what you were protecting him from. Pulling your hand out of his, you set your hands on your hips. “Because you can’t.”

Jake’s shoulders rolled before his lips set in a thin line. “I do. And I know you feel the same.”

You scoffed and tried to ignore the warmth in your chest that he was right. He felt the same. Wouldn’t that just be the worst? “You really think that highly of yourself? You’re so sure that I-”

Jake leaned closer and the rest of your argument stalled. You could smell the mint on his breath from the stupid toothpick he was chewing on in the truck just beneath the warmth of his cologne. God. He was intoxicating. You almost hated him for a moment because every ounce of fight you had drained out of you. “Ken.”

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He moved closer. Closer. Closer.

His warm hand skirted up your arm until it settled against the gentle arc of muscle between your neck and shoulder and the other settled on your hip. You could feel each of his fingers pressing into your skin like a brand. Every breath he took brushed against your mouth and you licked your lips without a thought as he leaned even closer.

“Last chance.” You could feel his smile against your mouth, growing with each syllable.

And you had to smile. Had to because he was your Ken and this felt inevitable. Jake was inevitable. “Do your worst.”

He kissed you and it was instantly all consuming. Surely, he could feel your smile, too. You actually laughed against his mouth as your hands pressed against his chest. Jake pulled back just enough for you to see his smile before he kissed you again, catching your bottom lip between his and tugging to have you gasping. His stupid, perfect teeth nipped at the skin and he was quick to soothe the sting with a flick of his tongue.

Then you were moving backward, guided by his gentle movements, until your spine went flat against the wall beside your bookshelves. The kiss was all smiling lips and searching tongues as Jake held you tight. Everything was warm and tinged with the mint on his tongue and Jake Jake Jake.

His thumb pressed into the hinge of your jaw and he sighed against your panting mouth. “So fucking good.” His voice was hoarse and you could feel it curling in your stomach.

But your entire body seized when you felt his hand move to wrap around your throat as his mouth continued to work against yours. You couldn’t help it; you flinched. The kiss ended abruptly as you pulled back despite you not wanting it to end. But it couldn’t be helped. Not yet. You watched an array of emotions flash across Jake’s face before it settled on despair.

“Fuck.” The single syllable was wrenched from his throat as he took a step back and his hands fell back to his sides and left you cold. “Fuck, Punch, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I-”

“W-wait…I just…” How could you even phrase this without sounding unhinged? “I just need a moment.” Your next breath rattled in your lungs but you still reached for his hand and raised it again, moving it just enough for his fingers to encircle your throat once more. The roughened planes and angles of his hand had you shivering but you managed to drag your eyes up to his and tried to not show how nervous you actually felt. “It… you can, if you want. I’d actually prefer to have some good memories of something like this instead of-”

The rest of your rambling was cut off as his lips pressed against yours. The grip on your throat grew a little more insistent, a little heavier, but nothing stronger than just a simple weight, an anchor at your pulse. His other hand smoothed up your arm to curl over your cheek just as he pried your lips apart, delving into your mouth to steal the building whine from your throat.

Your heart hammered behind your ribs as you felt the warmth of Jake’s hand bleed through your shirt as his palm brushed the side of your chest. He moved forward and your legs instinctively parted to accommodate the thigh he was shoving between yours and your next breath caught in your throat when the denim brushed against the crux of your thighs.

“Fuck,” you hissed when Jake’s lips seared a path across your cheek and down your throat to bite at your thrumming pulse. You hadn’t even remembered when your hands had dropped to wrinkle his shirt again but you still pulled him closer as every nerve ending sparked. And then-

“Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen!”

Immediately, you pulled away from Jake with a grimace as ABBA’s song continued to fill the air. “Oh Jesus, that’s Natasha’s ringtone. She never calls.” You ducked beneath his arm for the second time tonight and pulled your phone off its perch on the kitchen counter and answered it as you heard Jake sigh. Turning to look at him, you saw his head drop to his chest for a moment before standing straight again and following in your footsteps toward the kitchen.

“I asked Rooster out and I think he thinks it is just as a friends thing and I want to bash my head against the wall.” Tasha screeched, words running together in a rush. She continued on, explaining that somehow she and Bradley had been roped into helping Penny restock the Hard Deck before opening today and Natasha had (finally) acted on her (reciprocated) feelings after Rooster had been his usually flirty self the entire time and then dragged Natasha to the piano and made her sing along to Elton John’s Your Song. Jesus.

You looked over at Jake to see him looking at you with another soft look on his face and a bit of pink in his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you mouthed to him.

He waved it away before stealing a quick kiss, too, that had your heart rate picking up again.

“Punch? You there?”

You pushed out a breath and shook your head as you pressed a hand to Jake’s chin, keeping him from doing it again. You could feel his self satisfied smirk against your fingers. “Yeah. I’m here. And, um, I don’t know. I think you’d be surprised with Bradley. He’s probably picking out his nicest Hawaiian shirt in preparation.”

Tasha groaned but you had to smile because Jake nipped at your fingers. “You think?”

“I do. It is gonna be great. I know it.”

She sighed, crackling the line, but eventually agreed. “He can’t be that oblivious right?” She asked, making you both laugh. “Also, don’t think I’m forgetting about you and Hangman coming to brunch together. We’re gonna talk on Monday.”

“You don’t forget anything, Tasha. I’m well aware.”

You eventually said your goodbyes after promising her you would talk to her on Monday and then dropped your phone on the counter again and your hand from Jake’s mouth.

“I never thought you’d be a tease.” His tone let you know he was joking but you also could have guessed with the smirk pushing at his mouth, too.

Your jaw dropped for a moment before an embarrassed giggle rippled out of you. “I said I was sorry! I was worried!” Biting your lip as you looked at him, you shook your head. “I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

“It was quite the moment, huh?” His smirk had fallen to a soft smile despite his self assured words.

“Yeah, it was.” You didn’t even want to tease him now but then a small voice whispered at the back of your mind that it wasn’t a moment to him. After all, who would want-

“Steak or seafood?” He asked, knocking the rest of your thoughts right out of your head.

“What?”

“I have a list of restaurants that I want to take you to, if you’re willing to let me pay and bring you flowers.” The usual bravado that bled through all of his words wavered now. Was he nervous?

“Sounds like you’re asking me out on a date, Ken.”

“I’m trying here, Punch. So? Steak or seafood.”

Hope and happiness were blooming and twisting and growing within the confines of your ribs now. He wanted to take you out on a date. “I’m allergic to shellfish,” was all you could say through your smile.

“Steak it is. I’ll update my list when I get home.” He reached out and swept his thumb across the slope of your cheek and you found yourself leaning into the touch a little more. Jake seemed content to just hold your face in his hand for a moment before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple. “I should go. I want to do this right with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to wine and dine you, darlin’. Want to earn those lips of yours again,” he said as his thumb moved to press at the heated skin of your bottom lip. “You deserve it. And I want to be the one to give it to you.”

For just a moment, you worried that Jake would hear how hard your heart was beating. No one had ever said anything like that to you before. “Oh.”

This was different. Jake was different. You just had to give him permission to show you.

“I’d like that.”

He smiled and stepped back, hand dropping back to his side. “You’re a good friend to Phoenix, by the way. Bradshaw, too.”

You smiled again. “They’re good to me. All of you have been.” Slowly, you herded him toward the door, knowing he had a plan.

He stopped at the door, just after you undid the locks. “Does Phoenix know?”

You shook your head, knowing exactly what he was asking. “It’s hard enough to be taken seriously in the Navy as a woman. She had her own battles, Luke was mine. I always thought she was so strong and, for a while, I thought she’d just see me as weak if she knew what I’d put up with. But I know now that is an unfair thought. Tasha is and always has been one of my best friends and staunchest supporters. I should tell her, right? And maybe I will, after all of this is over. I don’t…I don’t want anyone else I care about to be wrapped up in this. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.” And you tried to ignore the sinking feeling that you had once again put Jake in Luke’s crosshairs.

But this time had to be different. It had to be.

Jake shook his head and cupped his hands at the back of your head before touching his forehead to yours. “We’re going to finish this, okay? We will.”

You nodded and smiled despite it all when he pressed another quick kiss to your forehead—it was like he couldn’t stop kissing you. And you weren’t about to complain. “Get home safe, Ken.”

You watched him get into his truck and waved as he pulled out and you knew he was telling you to lock your doors through the windshield. Your phone rang again just as he disappeared down the road and you knew by the way Jerry Lewis blared that it was now Bradley calling.

**

It had only been two days since Jake kissed you and had promised you a date. Two days and it was like the entirety of Top Gun was trying to keep you apart. You barely saw each other after he got roped into helping Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson into looking over the files of the next hopeful batch of aviators who could be called to San Diego. But it was fine. Sure. It wasn’t as if you could walk in holding his hand; you were still in the Navy and there were still protocols and rules you needed to follow. You had a feeling you and Jake would be breaking a lot of them.

You were kept busy with repairing Harvard’s jet after he managed to land safely after a bird strike. Your lunch breaks and evenings were spent talking to either Natasha or Bradley about their upcoming date-not-date while not revealing that you knew what the other was thinking. You did, however, mention to Bradley that Rueben and Mickey had started a betting pool about how long it would take Bradley to admit who he was in love with after Mickey spotted him with a pad of paper during lunch which was apparently filled with a speech about loving someone for years. You then spent the next hour workshopping the speech he was going to say to Natasha. It was beautiful and heartfelt and filled with analogies you tried to trim down (gently). He was still, annoyingly, assuming that their dinner on Wednesday was not a date in Natasha’s eyes but he was still going to try to confess his feelings and hope for the best.

You knew he’d be over the moon with how Natasha would react.

As Wednesday bled into Thursday, you were nearly dead on your feet but you’d been watching Natasha and Bradley all day, trying to decipher how their date had gone by their body language. You drove home that night without many answers but your phone rang just before you pulled down your street and quickly answered when Natsha’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello?”

“He said he’s in love with me!”

“Hello, Tasha. How are you? I’ve had a great day. How was yours?”

“Oh, shut up!” She laughed. “I’m freaking out! He said he was in love with me—has been for years, apparently—and all I did was kiss him afterward. That’s not fair, right? I also need to have a speech. I can’t let him win this. I want to do a PowerPoint.” You had to mute your phone at that so she wouldn’t hear you snort. Everything was a competition. “Do you have that picture of me and him from Mav’s birthday last year?”

“I do,” you said, knowing exactly which one she was referencing. It was of Bradley and Natasha at the piano. Bradley had just led everyone through a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ for Mav and there was still a flush on his cheeks. Natasha was right next to him in a stunning blue dress and smiling at him. It was the picture you promised to yourself that you would show at their wedding. You rushed inside, pinning the phone between your ear and shoulder and hurriedly shut the door behind you before darting toward your bedroom without bothering to turn on any of the lights—you said you’d drop it off at her apartment as soon as you’d found it. You were going to be in and out. You flopped onto your stomach, overturning the small mountain of pillows you had at the headboard, before grabbing at the storage container beneath the bed frame. You hauled it up and onto the bed and flipped the lid. To your chagrin, your “filing” system was essentially nonexistent when it came to photos and you started to sift through them as Natasha continued to talk, telling you about the date she’d planned and laughing about how much Bradley had stumbled over his speech.

God, it was so nice just to hear her laugh. They were going to be happy together. You knew it.

A door opened and closed slowly in the distance—your neighbor must’ve finally sprayed his door with WD-40 because it didn’t creak. Good. It only took him three years. But your heart nearly stopped when you heard your neighbor’s door open a few seconds later and its distinctive creak filled the night air. Something thumped down the hall and your spine went rigidly straight, still holding the phone to your ear as blood roared in your ears. You hadn’t locked the door. You had been inside for less than five minutes and you hadn’t thought it was necessary–you would have been leaving again soon anyway.

But you should have taken the time. A careless, stupid mistake.

The noise came again and sat up on bed, spilling the pictures in your hold onto your blankets. “Punch?” Natasha asked, pulling your focus. “You still there?”

“I…I think there’s someone in my house,” you whispered. Every part of your body was telling you to run. Right now. But where could you? Your house had one door and the person was in your living room.

Natasha was quiet for just a moment before whispering, “I’m gonna call the cops, okay? You hide.”

“N-no,” you hissed. “Don’t hang up. Stay with me.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stay on the line with you, but-”

The line went dead with three terrible beeps and you wrenched the phone away from your ear to see ‘Call Lost - Try Again?’ written across the screen. No matter how many times you tried to call or text, nothing went through. The little icon at the top where you usually saw the lines denoting your network was now just a terrible X. The network was either down or whoever had come into your house had turned on a jammer. And you knew which was more plausible—but god, you had never wished for a network outage more.

Slowly, you slid off the bed and into the hall just as you heard the distinctive sound of a boot hitting the corner of your coffee table. Someone was in your house.

**

Mia had loved the books. Apparently her book club had ooh’d and ahh’d over the signed book but she had, as Jake knew she would, kept the copy of your newest book a secret but had rattled off her opinions to Jake. “And I can’t believe you know her!” She squawked on the other end of the line. It had been so good to hear the smile in his sister’s voice again. It was priceless. Jake had also evaded any questions as to who you were–it wasn’t his secret to tell–but he hoped that you’d be the one to tell Mia sooner rather than later.

It had been a good day. For the most part, anyway. He would have preferred to have had more than just a small smile and wave from you for the last few days, but he could be patient.

When Jake’s phone chirped with a new message, he’d expected something from Javy, keeping him up to date about the conversation he was hoping to have with his girlfriend’s father. The ring Jake had helped Javy pick out was burning a hole in his pocket and Jake hoped that his best friend would be able to plan a cool as fuck bachelor party and then make sure the whole wedding goes smoothly.

And maybe he could ask you to be his date. He could dance with you and make you smile and-

Any happy thought he had evaporated when he looked at his phone.

Someone broke into Punch’s house! I’m calling the cops!

Jake was in his truck before he could even think to type out a response and sped toward your house as the group chat started to explode with a barrage of texts he didn’t read. He knew who had broken in. There was only one possible answer.

Jake just hoped he’d get there in time.

**

You needed to get out of the house…or at least get to something you could use as a weapon. The baseball bat you kept near the bookshelves could work, right? Slipping further down the hall, you tried to tell yourself that you could get out of this.

Creak.

You clapped a hand over your mouth as you pressed your spine to the wall, trying to quiet your breathing.

Step.

Step.

Step.

He was in your kitchen. You knew the sound of hard soled shoes on the uneven tiles. Could you make a run for it? Could you trap him in the laundry room? That had to be your only option. You turned the corner into your living room and your stomach fell to your feet.

Luke was standing in your kitchen. Knife in hand. Waiting for you. He looked almost exactly the same as he did the last time you saw him. His brown hair was still cropped short. His brown eyes were still narrowed and cold. His clothes were rumpled designer brands. He hadn’t changed. And that was terrifying.

You dove for the baseball bat, curling your hands around it before you turned and swung blindly. The bat cracked against his arm and Luke yelled, low and guttural as he staggered backward for a moment. But then he was lunging forward and grasping at the bat to wrench it out of your hands. He threw it across the living room and it smacked against the wall, shattering the glass in two frames before knocking them to the floor with a terrible crack. You couldn’t go for it again. There was no way past him now.

You should have aimed for his head.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, baby?”

You cringed at the nickname but didn’t take your eyes off the knife in his hand.

Luke didn’t wait for an answer to his question before barreling on. “And look what you’ve done. Got all those nice pins on your shirt, moving up in the ranks, and…” he paused as a smirk slithered across this mouth, “you got my dad’s money. A nice little nest egg.You’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you? And you didn’t have to work for any of it.”

He took a step forward and you took one back, ankle colliding with your coffee table.

“And what about me? I’m so glad you asked!” He snarled. “I’ve been dishonorably discharged. And you want to know why?”

“I had nothing to do with that, Luke. W-we had an agreement, remember? I keep my mouth shut and you…you were supposed to stay away from me.”

Luke’s tongue clicked against his teeth before he waved the knife. “You had everything to do with it. That LoA in my file was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I could’ve been given another chance if you had just kept your mouth shut when I told you to back in the-“

“I didn’t say anything. You were going to get Bradley killed!” The words bubbled out of you before you could think of the repercussions.

Luke was on you in a flash. The tip of the knife pressed over your sternum and you could feel it with each labored breath you sucked in between clenched teeth.

“He would’ve been fine! I know how to do my job! You ruined everything and then took my dad's money!” The knife pressed closer closer closer. It started to tear through the thin material of your shirt and shallowly cut your skin. The whimper you felt blooming in your throat died when you saw the gleam in Luke’s eyes.

Before you could even stop to think of an alternative, you threw your hands up and caught the knife. The edge sank through the delicate skin between your fingers and into your palm but you didn’t recoil. Couldn’t. You were only able to drag the knife down, the tip cutting against the skin just above your stomach.

Fresh pain bloomed across your face and it took you a moment to realize that Luke had slapped you. And then he did it again, making sure to send your head flying backward to slam into the wall hard enough and have stars dancing in front of your eyes. Your grip almost fell, loosening a fraction, and just for a moment everything was silent.

Just a moment.

You’d never be able to describe the pain that bloomed as Luke moved and drove the knife in, slotting it between your ribs and twisting with a vicious flick of his wrist. Your next breath stalled just behind your tongue as every nerve ending exploded with heat and teeth and a terrible popping sensation bubbled beneath your skin. “L-Luke…”

He pushed the knife deeper as he pressed his cheek to yours in an echo of the hugs he used to give you. “I used to miss you, you know. Did you miss me? I treated you so well. I was good to you. So good. I gave you everything.” The knife rocked back and forth and you felt the ridge of it with each movement. You felt all of it. Your grip faltered against the knife gain but you knew you couldn’t drop your hold.

He would kill you.

“And you had to ruin it. You ruined my life.”

“L-Luke…”

“I need to hear you say it, baby. Tell me you know what you did. You had this coming. All of it.”

“I didn’t,” you wheezed. Your chest was collapsing in on itself like you had a boar sitting on your sternum.

“Say it! You don’t get to play victim this time. You were the one who ruined my life.”

“You were a d-drunk! I did all that work for you until you told me you’d kill me if I made you l-look bad again!” Each word was a crack against your ribs, sharp and biting, but you couldn’t stop. This would be your only chance to say this, you knew it. If you were going to die tonight, you were going to let him know what you really thought of him. “You…” You sucked in a breath that only served to make you ache. “You only got through basic because your daddy bribed someone. You only got into the Navy at all because he made a phone call to someone after you failed the ASVAB. You…you fail at everything you do. You were a shitty AD. And you couldn’t kill me.” Blood dribbled out of your mouth and you felt it slid down your chin. “Twice. So you better make this count.”

Luke’s teeth glinted in the low light and he ripped the knife out only to plunge it back in. You felt the blade scrape against the edge of your hip as you let out a scream that fizzled out to a gurgle as more blood filled your mouth.

“I’ll make it count!” Luke seethed as he drove the knife deeper and pushed you into the wall.

Everything burned. Everything ached. And all you could do was scream as your knees knocked together, strength dribbling out of you with each frantic pulse of your heart.

Luke leaned forward to press his forehead against yours and the knife twisted. “Do you feel it, baby? Do you feel me inside you?” His breath smelled of the expensive cognac you knew he liked to guzzle and rolled your stomach.

“Luke.” You didn’t want to die looking into his eyes. You didn’t want to die at all, but you weren’t going to have your last earthly memory be of Luke and his cold eyes, so you shut your eyes as the tips of your fingers started to tingle.

The screech of a siren broke through the haze of your mind. You had to laugh but that, too, was cut short when Luke pulled the knife out and rushed toward the window to see the night sky filled with red and blue lights. You crumpled. Your hands slapped against the floor for just a moment before you slumped in a heap against the carpet as your arms gave out.

You vaguely heard your front door slam against the wall and knock another picture from its perch. There was an answering sound of glass shattering before warm, rough hands gently grasped at your shoulders. You struggled for just a moment when your scrambled brain thought Luke had come back to make sure you were dead. Unfocused eyes barely registered Jake kneeling above you.

“Punch? Punch, c’mon darlin’. There you are.” His voice was muffled but you felt yourself smiling anyway as everything started to prickle like you’d pinned your limbs beneath your weight for too long. The smile quickly died when Jake’s hands clamped down over your wounds and a surprised yelp punched out from between your teeth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I gotta stop the bleeding.”

“I-it hurts.”

“I know. I know it does. But it’ll only hurt a little longer, all right? You gotta stay awake for me. The cops are almost here.” His grip tightened. “We’ll get you fixed up and-”

“Where’s…Luke?” Was he still in your house? Would he hurt Jake?

“I don’t know, darlin’. He’s gone. We’ll find him, okay? We’ll find him and he’ll never do this to you again. But I need you to stay awake.”

Black dots were pushing their way into your line of sight, blotting out Jake’s worried face. “Ken…Jake…I wanted to get steak with you.”

Jake pressed harder and you could only whimper. “We will go get that steak. It’ll be the best date.” His voice was muffled, like you had shoved your head under water. And you struggled to hear him at all.

“Promise?” You asked, blood on your teeth.

“I promise.”

You smiled, despite it all. And then you were gone.

[minnophee-writes]

Right Where You Were Meant To Be

Fandom: Avengers [Marvel]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size Reader

Summary: The reader has a crush on Bucky the second she looked at him but she also has feelings of self-consciousness about her body and doubts she’d ever end up with Bucky or any guy like Bucky. That all changes one night at one of Tony’s parties.

Word Count: 2,760 words

A/N: This is a cute little one-shot idea I had and just wanted to write out. I feel there aren’t many plus-size!reader stories so I wanted to make my own. I’m a chubby girl and felt like I needed some love, lmao. Any mistakes I take responsibility for, this story wasn’t beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!! <3 <3 <3 [edit: this is an old fanfic lol]

It all started when you looked at him for the first time. He had just moved into the Tower, and you had just gotten the job as Tony's new assistant since Pepper had become CEO of Stark Industries. Because you worked in an environment with superheroes who were very fit and healthy, you had become self-conscious of yourself; whether it would be what you wore, the things you ate, or just how your body looked in general.

Being a bigger girl, it often took a toll on your mental health when you would notice the glances, the whispering, the judgmental stares, and how shopping for clothes in your size was difficult, and it made you feel like you had to lose weight to fit in and belong. You felt alone and isolated.

You didn't have any friends; you didn't even talk to many of your co-workers, and just kept to yourself a majority of the time. When Bucky moved in, you noticed he did the same. He didn't speak much to the rest of the team, he mostly stayed in his room, and only hung around Steve. Bucky was very fit, and his muscular body showed it whenever he wore tight-fitted clothing. You would never wear tight-fitted clothing for fear of having your plumpness accentuated.

After five months working for Tony and having a more friendly relationship with the rest of the team, you had built a few close bonds with some of the heroes. Wanda and Natasha were your closest girlfriends and would regularly have 'Lady's Nights' every Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Tony, Clint, Sam, and Steve were like your older brothers and would look out for you.

You and Steve made it a routine to do small exercise and yoga in the afternoons just after 4 o'clock. How this all started was because you wanted to accomplish small goals for yourself, as Sam told you to do to help with your mental health.

"Steve," You called out as you stepped into the Tower's gym, the one place you knew where to find Steve if he wasn't in the common room.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)! What's up?" Steve turned to face you as he held the punching bag still while he watched you walk closer to him, noticing you fidgeting with your fingers nervously.

"I just... I wanted to start doing light exercises, you know, to boost my endorphins, and so I have something to do in the afternoons when I've finished with work." It wasn't a complete lie, but it just sugar-coated the fact that you just wanted to lose weight to gain confidence in yourself.

Steve had agreed to help you; he wouldn't push you too much either because he didn't want you to strain anything and not push you out of your comfort zone too much. Both of you would exercise for an hour each day in the afternoons. This routine had been going on for six weeks, and you were enjoying it. You felt better about yourself each week when you would check your progress and write down how much you lost during the week; you were more confident than you were all those weeks ago before asking Steve for help.

During one of those afternoon exercises, you and Steve were both in the Adho Mukha pose with Steve wearing his usual tight t-shirt, that you swore was a size too small, and shorts while you wore a loose, black tank top, and tight-fitted leggings that complemented the shape of your plump ass. You were so in the zone that you hadn't heard the gym doors open and the sound of footsteps coming closer to you. Bucky stood behind you and Steve, him getting an eyeful of your butt while he cleared his throat to catch his best friend's attention.

"Hey, Bucky! I didn't notice you were there. (Y/N) and I were doing some yoga, would you like to join us?"

You. Were. Mortified. You quickly stood up beside Steve and looked down at your feet, trying to avoid looking at Bucky after having your ass practically in his face.

"Uh, I kinda have to get ready for 'Girl's Night' tonight, but I think Bucky can keep you company." You nervously spoke, having your words jumble out quickly due to your inner-embarrassment. "I'll see you later, Steve!"

You bolted out of the gym as fast as your legs could go and made it up into your room without another incident. When you flopped onto your bed, you let out a loud, exhausted sigh before closing your eyes shut tightly. 'Why did I have to act like a nervous wreck? You didn't even let him talk for Christ's sake!' After beating yourself up over the little incident, you started to get ready for 'Girl's Night' with Nat and Wanda.

~~~~~~

It was two hours into 'Girl's Night' and you, Nat and Wanda had, at least, drank four glasses of Kraken Rum and about three shots of Vodka. You were more relaxed and carefree, enjoying your time with your best friends while gossiping about an episode of Criminal Minds you all saw the other day together.

"Not gonna lie, I would love to have a man like Morgan. Have you seen his muscles? And how he kicks down doors like a badass?" You gushed.

"That is true, and I fully believe Morgan and Garcia should be together. They have chemistry and look so cute!" Wanda loved her Morgan and Garcia ship.

"Eh, I like to have a super cute genius but that's just my opinion" Nat took a sip of her fruity vodka drink while shrugging her shoulders.

"Of course you would, you're with Bruce and that's a little bias, Nat." You gently shoved your red-haired friend playfully.

You and Wanda giggled like school girls when Natasha scoffed before she pointed an accusing finger at you.

"Well, says you, (Y/N)! You practically drool whenever you see Barnes."

That shut you up quickly. 'How does she know?! Play it off...'

"That's very funny Nat, but I don't know what you mean."

"Don't bullshit me, (Y/N). I've seen the way your cheeks get all pink and how your eyes are glued to him whenever he walks by. You're so smitten it's grossly cute." Then Wanda turned to you with a small smirk on her face.

"Maybe you should ask him to work out with you and Steve!"

Flashbacks of your embarrassment earlier that day made your face go pale. 'Absolutely not'. You shook your head furiously, staring at your two friends with fear. There was no way you'd have the guts to do such a thing, not after how you acted around him before. Plus, you didn't want him to look at you with disgust when he looks at you working out. You shake off all the negative thoughts before finishing off your last bits of rum.

"I think I'm going to head off to bed now, gotta wake up early tomorrow. Tony wants me to help him organize and plan a gala party to celebrate his newest project. And when I say to 'help him' I mean I'll be doing most of the work while he hides away in his lab with Bruce." You said before walking off and waving the girls goodbye.

2 weeks later...

You had most of the gala planned out. You had booked a cute catering company to organize some food dishes for everyone and even hired a group of people to decorate one of the large common rooms that would fit all the guests on Tony's guest-list. You had even bought a cute new dress to wear for the party. The party was starting that night at 7:30 and you would hopefully get everything done while having an hour and a half to spare to get ready.

When the decorating and planning finished, you quickly made your way to your room and got showered and changed. You stood in front of your mirror for quite some time, nitpicking every flaw you could see, judging your appearance because you knew how the other women at the party were going to look flawless and have every man swooping in for them. A sudden knock on your door snapped you out of your negative thoughts.

"(Y/n), you ready?" Wanda's voice called from the other side.

"Y-yeah! I'm coming now." You dashed for the door to get away from the mirror so you can't put yourself down even more. Once opening the door, Wanda linked your arm with hers, and both of you walked toward the elevator.

Telling FRIDAY which floor, you both arrived just as a few of the guests were mingling around; drinking, eating, and chatting. You glanced around, hoping to see the familiar faces of your friends, spotting Sam, Nat, and Clint near the bar where Natasha was serving the drinks. Tony was standing next to Pepper and being an absolute flirt as always while Steve and Bucky were standing near a corner with drinks in hand. Before you could make your way over to the bar, Wanda told you to wait where you were while she goes to quickly touch up her make-up, disappearing before you could say a word. You stood there awkwardly and looked around, making sure everything was going swimmingly until you felt a presence behind you. A tap on your confirmed that someone was indeed behind you.

You turned around to see a group of two slender women and three muscular men staring at you with smug and cocky smiles on their faces.

"Can we get some more drinks? And make them with a little more alcohol this time." One of the men quirked an eyebrow, waiting for you to scurry off to grab their drinks.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not part of catering. I'm-"

"You certainly look it though, I mean, you're not dressed like you're here as a guest. The dress you're wearing looks like the other catering staff." A woman spat, her eyes narrowed at you. You started to feel self-conscious about your outfit now, realizing the color-scheme looked very similar to the catering staff.

"Plus, the dress isn't that flattering for your body hun. We can practically see your muffin top and panty lines with how tight that dress is on you." The other woman commented while she leaned to the side to glance at more of your plush figure.

A stinging sensation began to appear behind your eyes, feelings of doubt, and an anxiety attack began to make themselves known. So looked away from the group and quickly made for the elevator, shooting Wanda a quick text saying you weren't feeling too well. 'How stupid of me to think I even looked good or that I could fit in at the party.' By the time the elevator doors reached your floor and the doors opened, hot tears were falling down your cheeks as you tried to furiously wipe them away with zero results. The tears kept flowing down as you began to walk down the hallway to your room; quiet footsteps barely making noise as they followed you. Just as your hand settled on the door handle, a warm hand clasped onto your shoulder gently. With a yelp, you spun around with a jump to look at your "attacker", only to find a pair of stormy blue eyes staring at your teary eyes intensely.

Bucky's eyes held hints of concern and worry, but it was hard to see because he was good at hiding his emotions, and the fact that your eyes were blurry from crying.

"You okay, (Y/n)? I saw you leave the party quickly and noticed how fast your breathing was." Bucky had to look down at you because he was so tall, or was it because you were just very short?

"I'm fine, Bucky. I just don't do well in crowded places or with so many strangers. I got a bit overwhelmed but it's fine now." You weakly smiled but he could see right through it, he always did.

"You had a panic attack after speaking to a group of people and judging by the looks they gave you while talking to them, I can only believe it wasn't a pleasant conversation." Bucky then brought both his flesh and metal hands to cup your face while he peered into your eyes more. "Tell me what happened, doll."

You sighed, you knew he wasn't going to let this go. Even though you both barely spoke to each other, he still cared for you like the both of you knew each other for years. Something about his calm voice and caring nature helped your nerves settle.

"They thought I was part of catering and asked if I could get them more drinks. I told them I wasn't catering, only for them to make snarky comments about my outfit and body. But it's fine, I'm used to having those comments made to me, I've dealt with those types of people all my life." Your hands gently held his and tried to move them away from your face but Bucky didn't budge.

"You don't believe them, right? I mean, I think the dress looks good on you. It shows off your curves and any man who doesn't get blown away is blind."

You gave a humorless laugh and shook your head at Bucky, looking down at the floor.

"You're just saying that to be nice to me, Buck. We both know girls like me don't belong in a place like this, or a party like that. You can go back to the party, I don't want to waste more of your time." You went to turn away when Bucky held your upper arms tightly.

"Not a chance, doll. I'm not a fan of crowds myself and was about to leave the party myself until I saw you run away. I'd rather spend my time with you and making sure you don't ever think that you don't belong."

You both stared at each other for a few seconds, his stare was intense with adoration and love while you stared at him in shock that he'd want to spend time with you. Before you could blink, Bucky leaned down and you felt his soft lips on yours, his arms wrapping around you and caging you into a warm and gentle embrace. Your hands rested onto his firm chest while his hands rested on your lower back, just above your butt. At first, you were in shock but then you gave in to the kiss and snaked your arms around his neck, your fingers embedded into his long hair.

The kiss was full of passion, and so much love that you didn't think it was possible. When the need for air was too much, you both separated and looked into each other's eyes once again.

"H-how? Why me? We barely know each other!"

"Because, (Y/n), I've been smitten for you since I first laid eyes on you but didn't have the guts to tell you. Steve's been a punk and trying to get me to join your work out sessions for weeks but I was too nervous to do it." Bucky's cheeks tinted red as he chuckled.

"And why's that? I was scared that if saw me working out, that you'd be grossed out by my body." You explained, chewing on your bottom lip.

"I could never be grossed out, sweetheart. I love a woman with curves and plumpness to her. I was nervous that if I watched you work out, I would try to make a move on you too fast and scare you away. I didn't want that to happen." Bucky grabbed your chin and leaned in again, his lips almost touching yours. "And you looked downright sexy in those tights, they shape your ass well."

You gasped and lightly smacked his shoulder while he smirked at you. His playfulness coming through. You made the first move this time and got onto your tippy toes to kiss him. It was quicker than the first but still held the same emotions. With so much strength you underestimated he had, Bucky lifted you up - your legs wrapped around his waist - as he opened your door and carried you over to your bedroom. Both of you watched a bunch of movies in your room; many kisses were shared before you both passed out, cuddled up under your fluffy blankets, safe in Bucky's arms. 

Right where you were meant to be all along.

[vlansy]

Run Away Baby Before I Put My Spell On You

Pairings: WandaNat! x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Wanda is set on a mission to find out who the "new" super hero in town is.

Warning(s): Violence, Voyeurism, murder, use of gun, swearing- (MINORS DNI 18+ )

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2

Reader's POV

Growing up I have always wondered what I was made for, my mother said she prayed to have me and the deities gave me to her. She said I was special and she was the most blessed woman to have me. I was blessed by every God, giving me gifts and power.

But I still wonder what my purpose is.

I mean don't get me wrong having been given powers to move things with my mind, and control anyone if I wished to is an honor I will forever be thankful for, but sometimes I feel like I’m cursed to have them. I still have morals though, I ask for permission first before I enter someone's mind but even without asking I could still do it. Levitating and creating illusions is also one of the many powers given to me by the Gods. The Goddess of beauty and love herself even bestowed me with the power to charm and captivate anyone I wish to kneel for me.

When I was given to my mother they all expected me to be the one to stop the war and create peace among everyone.

I was sent to the mortal realm at a young age by my mother, she wanted me to live there with her immortal friend whom she said she’d known for a long time. I don't know what her reason is and why she wanted me to leave her but I know better than to question the queen.

I visit sometimes though, I mean what's a castle without its princess?

And what's a mother without her daughter….

My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door.

“Y/n, are you awake?” A soft masculine voice said.

I was lying on my bed my feet dangling on the edge. I raise my hand opening the door without getting up.

I hear my Uncle Malcolm's footsteps coming closer my eyes remain closed.

“Is it just me or does the “woman in white” look familiar?” He said emphasizing the “woman in white”.

I opened my eyes and turned my head to him. I looked at him and raised my brow. “I see you’ve seen the news.”

“Y/n, I know you have a mind of your own and you’re a bright girl, but honey please be careful out there.” He said as he sat on the edge of my bed.

I’ve lived with my “uncle” Malcolm here on earth since my mother decided it would be a good idea for me to leave. He’d known my mother when he was in high school and my mother was a curious princess who wanted to see the whole universe.

His only family is me now and his fiancé Luthor.

They’re both very much in love and I would love nothing more than to officially welcome Luthor to our family. They both treat me as if I were their real daughter and I love them both like their my real Dad’s

It’s ironic really, before I got sent to earth I’ve only ever had women around me, since where I came from women are the ones to rule and provide for their offspring. No men exist where I came from they’re practically extinct.

I look at my uncle. “I promise I won’t get hurt, Dad,” I assure him. “And would you really think I’d let anyone catch me?”

“I know you wouldn’t let that happen but I know you too well to know that if the Avengers were the ones after you, you would let them.” He said knowingly.

“I- okay I probably will, but come on Dad if the Avengers were to want me I’d be honored to be caught by them.” I laughed at him.

It's an understatement to say that I'm a huge fan of the heroes that protect the world. But I would never admit that to anyone but my Dad’s.

They know how much I admire them, especially the two wonderful redheads I have a tiny bit of a crush on.

So when I thought of the idea that the Avengers might be on to me I had mixed feelings about it. I don't know whether to be excited that they know of me but also a bit scared because they know of me.

“And besides, whatever happens, happens. I'm a powerful being but I can't control what will happen, Dad.” I finally sat down on my bed.

He just sighed at me, knowing how stubborn I am he probably thought not to argue with me further.

“Where's Papa, by the way?” I changed the topic.

“He's still in his office, you know your Papa he's very hard working.” He said proudly. I just nodded.

My Papa is a well-known lawyer and my Dad is a popular Fashion designer. When I was younger I started to model the clothes he designed which gained me popularity all throughout high school and college.

I graduated college at 18 due to my high credentials and skipping a few grades. I honestly don't know what to do since I don't go to school anymore, I'm 19 now and turning 20 in a few months but all I want to do is keep my position in the modeling industry.

People say I'm too smart to just throw it all away but I don't really care what they think, plus My dad’s supports me with everything I do and whatever I choose to be.

I live by myself most of the time, I bought myself a house, but I miss my Dad’s too much so come over at weekends.

“I'll leave you to rest now sweetheart, goodnight,” he said as he kissed my head.

“Goodnight, Dad.” I smiled at him as I watched him walk out the door.

A few minutes passed and I was tucking myself to bed when my phone rang.

“Yes, Shaye?” I said when I answered the call.

“Y/n! Girl let's go out tonight!” She screamed right in my ear making me move the phone away.

I look at the time, “Babe it's literally midnight?”

“Yeah so? Come on honey the other girls are coming too,” she reasoned.

I thought for a second, what could go wrong? Right?

“Fine, give me like 30 minutes.” I finally agreed.

“Yay! Okay hurry up and I'll call you when I'm there, Byee!” She said cheerfully.

“Bye.” I said and quickly went to my walk-in closet and chose an outfit.

Once I found a white crisscross halter top and some denim jeans I went to my mirror and got changed. Then I went out of my closet and to my vanity. I started putting on a little bit of makeup and took the claw clip that was on my hair to let down my soft curly hair.

I got my purse and made sure my important belongings were in there and went to my Dad’s room.

I knocked on their door and waited for it to open.

“Yes, sweetheart?” my Dad said as he opened the door.

“I'm going out with Shaye and my friends.”

“Okay, be careful alright,” He reminded me.

“Yes, Dad bye,” I said and smiled back at him.

I was going down the stairs when Shaye called. “We’re here.” she is said.

“Yeah, I'll be right down,” I said and ended the call.

When I got out the door I was greeted by my friends squealing. I opened the shotgun seat and Shaye started driving.

“Oh my God Y/n we’re gonna have so much fun tonight!” My friend Leven said in excitement.

The car ride was pretty much us singing to loud music and taking photos.

When we arrived at the bar the guard didn't even need to check our IDs or make us stay in line because we go to parties here almost every weekend.

Some of our close friends were already waiting for us in the VIP section of the bar with drinks ready.

“Y/n babe, You made it!” A familiar feminine voice catches my attention.

“I probably wouldn’t have come if I knew you were here.” I joked at her.

Vienna was my ex when we were in college but we were more best friends than girlfriends so we ended up on good terms. But even when we broke up we would still playfully flirt with each other, but we both have zero romantic feelings for one another.

“Oh don’t act like you don't miss me, honey,” she winked at me.

I playfully rolled my eyes at her.

We partied all night and drank so much alcohol that my friends could barely walk anymore.

“Oh my God, do you guys remember when we all got in trouble because we couldn't stop laughing at Mr. Wilkins when we caught him picking his nose.” Leven reminded us.

“HAHAHA, or when he tried to flirt with Shaye in front of the class but Shaye said she also likes girls?.” I said and they all laughed, especially Shaye who almost choked on her drink.

As we caught up with each other's lives and reminisced about the times we had together I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

As I walked to the exit of the bar I could already feel the danger come my way.

I excused myself to my friends earlier because I saw a woman being followed and harassed by two men. I watched her for a while and when she was going to the exit I knew I had to follow.

As I looked around the exit I saw the two men following the girl out so I quickly but carefully followed them.

One of them ran up behind her and covered her mouth so she couldn't scream the other guy went to a nearby van and opened its back seat.

I walked towards them and spoke. “Watcha doing there big boys?”

They turned towards me. “You wanna join in doll?” The guy holding the girl said and smirked. I smirked back at him and walked closer to them, my heels clicking as I walked. The other man from the van now went closer to us.

“You know, two big guys like you shouldn't be out here at night,” I said as I got close to them the girl still trying to get out of the other man's grip.

He looked at his buddy and they both grinned. “Yeah, and why is that?” He asked a menacing smile plastered across his face.

“Because you might come across women like me,” I said as my eyes glowed golden.

Their smile slowly went away while mine grew wider.

I raise my hand in front of them making them both paralyzed.

I use my other hand to move the girl with my powers, freeing her from the guy's grasp. The girl stumbled in front of me so I held her close.

“Are you okay?” I asked with a look of concern.

“Y-yes, thank you,” she said as tears ran down her eyes.

“Go, and please don't tell anyone I was here,” I pleaded. “I'll take care of these boys for you,” I said as I turned back to the men giving them a sharp glare.

I heard the girl run but my attention was caught by the two men in front of me grunting and trying to move.

“It really isn't fun being helpless huh?” I asked with a fake pout.

“Oh! How about we play a game? Would you like that?” I asked then laughed. “Oh I forgot you can't speak, let me fix that for you,” I said and waved my hand in the air giving them the ability to talk.

“You little bitch!” one of them screamed at me.

I gasp. “You guys aren't very nice.”

“Let us go you fucker!” the other guy commanded.

“How about this, I'll give you five seconds to run and then I'll run after you, and if I catch you… I'll kill you.” I said as my smile dropped.

“1…2…3 GO!” I scream as I free them. They ran as fast as they could not wasting and second.

I just waited there and looked at my watch and when it was time to run after them I used my powers to make me fly making my current clothes disappear and turn to my white armor and covering myself with a white cloak.

As I was in the air I could already see the both of them run to a nearby alley. I fly with speed and when my feet touch the ground I start to play with them.

I surrounded them with clones of myself circling them so they had nowhere to go. “You have nowhere to run boys.”

One of them took a gun out of his pocket and the other one a knife. They started attacking the clones of me but every attack just went through my clones while they laughed at the men's pathetic tries.

When I finally got tired of watching them struggle I made one of them float in the air making him drop his weapon the other guy tried to attack me but I paralyzed him into place.

I entered the mind of the guy I held in the air and bent him to my will.

“θα τον σκοτώσεις και τον εαυτό σου (kill him and yourself)” I whispered in his mind and as I did his eyes glowed golden and his face expressionless.

I both let them go and watched as the man I whispered to attacked the other guy.

“Stop! What are you doing man!” the man grunted as they fought each other.

I was gonna watch them kill each other when I felt something in my chest and I felt my power in my veins. My veins are visibly glowing golden.

“What's happening to me?” I question myself as I look at my arms.

I quickly flew out of the alley not caring if anyone sees me.

But as I was in the air something shot the side of my stomach from a distance making me lose control and fall onto a rooftop of a building.

My stomach was bleeding and I tried to cover it up with my hand. When I gained composure and tried to stand up I saw a red entity fly towards me and as I turned my head the other way I saw a black-suited figure jump from building to building going after me.

“Shit!” I cussed out figuring out who they are.

It's the Scarlet Witch and the Black Widow.

I try to fly out of there but suddenly scarlet threads wrap themselves around me making it hard to move.

I breathed in and out catching my breath as I was about to use all my strength to break free from the witch’s spell.

At this point, my whole body was glowing and I could feel the witch’s spell slowly breaking and when I broke free a powerful force blew them both away making the widow hit her head on the cement and the witch fell on the ground.

“Wanda!” I heard the widow scream.

I wanted to help them and apologize but it was too much of a risk so I gathered all the strength left in me and flew as fast as I could out of there.

(Please tell me how I did in this chapter and if there are any errors.) Thank you all so much for the support!!😘

[skipppppy]

CARMEN SANDIEGO CHARACTERS + MOVIES

Boo I felt like making headcanons again bc I spend more time wondering what these assholes do in their free time than I do on my job

CARMEN

Didn’t have access to movies growing up so Player, Zack, and Ivy have been catching her up on the most popular ones

HORRIBLE to watch with. Doesn’t really understand “suspension of disbelief” as a concept and will ask stupid questions the whole time. Player almost ended their friendship because she nitpicked Lord of the Rings for being “unrealistic”

Enjoys low stakes 2000s girl chick flicks like mean girls and legally blonde. She has enough stress in her life man she just wants to relax

HATES heist movies because of how innacurate they are. Team Red has taken to watching them JUST to hear her pick them apart

PLAYER

Sci-fi/fantasy junkie. Anything and everything that has aliens/magic and shitty practical effects from the 80’s/90’s he is all over

Has never said a single kind thing about the Star Wars franchise in his life. They are his favourite movies of all time

ADORES Edgar Wright and has slowly been converting Team Red to his movies. Zack loved Baby Driver. Ivy loved Shaun of the Dead. Shadowsan loved Hot Fuzz. He considers Scott Pilgrim the pinnacle of Canadian cinema

Cannot STAND the amount of remakes happening in Hollywood recently

ZACK

Canon enjoyer of blockbuster action movies. Everyone dreads the nights when he gets to choose a film bc his taste is so generic

Does not know what the Snyder cut is. Thank god

His only redeeming quality is a love of early dreamworks. Will not stop quoting Madnagascar

Has seen every Marvel movie and thinks all of them are good. Player has BEGGED him to watch better movies but he won’t. He’s the type to rag on Scorsese for being “boring”

Has seen Kevin Feige’s extended filmography. Does not know who that man is

IVY

Horror fanatic

Banned from choosing movies for film night after convincing them to watch her “favourite lesbian romcom” with her. That lesbian romcom was Saw

Ellen Ripley was not only her personal hero but also her gay awakening. The Xenomorph queen was her second gay awakening

Also loves period dramas. Enjoys the tiddies and knows she would look SO good in those fancy waistcoats the men wear

Watches old slashers with Carmen and laugh whenever someone dies in a stupid way

SHADOWSAN

Faculty considered movies “low brow” entertainment so he hasn’t seen a movie made before the year 2000

Loves a good mob flick. Got into Scorsese specifically because Zack hated him. Goodfellas is his favourite

Everyone assumes he enjoys samurai movies but he actually HATES them. Hideo would ramble about historical inaccuracies the whole way through and he’s still bored just thinking about it

Used to love Yakuza films back in the day but they were soured for him after actually living as one

Loved Knives Out, found Daniel Craig VERY attractive, and has since fallen down the James Bond rabbit hole

CHASE

The most pretentious film hack you’ve ever met in your life. He is taking you to a back alley screening of some arthouse eastern european gay porn on a first date and it will be the most profound thing you’ve ever seen in your life

Detective noir movies and cheesy black and white romances are his favourites. He likes falling asleep to them

He and Player both appreciate animation as a form of cinema, but while Player is referring to like. the Mario movie, Chase is talking about some 3 minute Russian stopmotion surrealist piece from 1951. He attends Annecy every year and has been banned from the Oscars due to threats of violence

He likes Poirot tho. Transmasc king

JULIA

If she has a few hours to herself she’d rather watch a documentary than go to a movie theatre, but she loves historical dramas

Enjoys biopics but thinks it’s stupid to make them for people who are alive

Likes watching movies for the sake of trash talking them, so she is the only person who can tolerate sitting through one with Carmen

LOVES Wes Anderson though. Chase got her into his stuff and the symmetry scratches an itch in her brain. But don’t tell him that

Also enjoys period dramas for the tiddies

CHIEF

Shitty cop movie enjoyer. The kind of person who insists that Die Hard is her favourite christmas movie

LOVES heist movies because of how inaccurate they are. Will mentally nitpick whatever secret service is going after them and be like “ACME wouldn’t do that lol”

She’s semi aware that she’s the antoagonist in Carmen’s own heist narrative so she’s started having fun with it

Closet lover of b-tier comedy movies. Like the ones with Adam Sandler and Kevin Hart on the cover

Does not enjoy watching movies socially. That is quality time for her and her cat. She does not have to shush Commander

[chastiefoul]

"This thing is heavy, can you hold it for me?"

genshin characters react to “this thing is so heavy, can you hold it for me?” and you held their hand instead.

characters: xiao, zhongli, heizou, kazuha, thoma, diluc, childe, albedo, eula, itto.

part 2!

xiao

he just held out his hand, no questions asked.  xiao would never say it out loud but he’ll always be ready to help you in any way he can. so when you intertwined your hand instead, he only sighed, swiftly coming to a realization. “humans just keep finding new way to be entertained, don’t they?” he says exasperatedly, yet doesn’t seem to be letting go of the grip anytime soon.

zhongli

only chuckles a little, having used to your little antics. he squeezed your hand lovingly, and made a comeback of his own. “my lips feels a little lonely, perhaps you can help me with that. after all you owed me, no?”

heizou

quickly knows what you’re up to and decided to have a little fun of his own. “sorry love, my arm is still quite sore from the training yesterday.” he said, smiling cheekily. you saw his expression and immediately knows that he figured out what you were going to do. “geez, just play along once will you?” you pouted playfully, wanting to cross your arms when he suddenly intertwined his hand with yours, brings it close to his lips and kisses it. “you’d have to try a little harder if you wanted to trick a detective then, how about next time i show you how?” he laughs.

kazuha

“of course, love.” he held out his hand, and when that meets your hand instead, he was thinking for a moment before letting out a laugh. “i cannot believe i just fell for that, although now we’re like this, want to take a walk  to where the breeze feels nice?” he says with his unwavering gentle smile.

thoma

“oh? well i can just use my other free hand then. where is it?” he says while smiling, finding no estrangement in the whole ordeal. this man is so devoted to helping people that he just keep asking where’s the thing you needed help for... eventually you told him that it was only a little joke to hold his hand. “oh! oh.” and you both just had a great laugh out of it.

diluc

“no problem.” he quickly says, without so much of a tone but you knew he’s always happy to help. and when you went to hold his hand he was quite for a moment before realizing your little joke. when you laughed and said you had bested the dark knight hero diluc just stared at you lovingly, your hand is still safe in his.

childe

was quick to figure it out but plays along anyway. “you’re right! this thing is quite heavy i better hold it everywhere i go so you don’t have to.” the man literally did not let go of your hand at all day with a big grin on his face, at some point people just looked at you and wondered had those two’s hands glued together?

albedo

his logical thinking just beats your little prank. “well based on the size and how well your hand is currently holding it, i’d say you’re okay, and the thing inside your hand seems weighted almost nothing so you’d have no problem carrying it around.” you’re a fool if you thought that’d work on him even for a second. “i just wanted to hold your hand, bedo.” you pouted. he only chuckled at your explanation. “there is a simpler way to ask for that, no?” he teased. “fine then, would you hold my hand?”

“certainly.”

eula

was caught off guard when she found that she was holding your hand instead. you only smiled happily at her and eula immediately knows there’s no way she could be mad. but just wait your name once again will be on her list of people she’d have to get revenge on. hmm, somehow your name is always on the bottom list?

itto

“of course!! this oni is not only the greatest but also the strongest one the world has ever seen!!” then he wiggled his fingers as if taunting this heavy thing you’re gonna put on his hand. so when you put your hand instead he just laughed out loud. “this is the heavy thing? this is nothing for me, but no matter!! i shall help you carry it whenever and wherever you like!”

--

it was really fun writing these,, let me know if you want me to make this for other characters!!

[mvltisstuff]

hi i have an eddie diaz request!

so eddie and the reader have been dating for a while, she’s also a firefighter with the 118, and after that special about them that taylor did aires, her abusive ex comes to find her. it’s kinda like the maddie and doug situation where he was looking for her since she left and she doesn’t tell eddie until something big happens and he has to save her which causes her to tell him everything.

thank you

all too well - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x reader

a/n: sorry for the unnecessary taylor slander in this i’m her biggest hater!!! warning for domestic abuse, very similar to maddie in season 2.

it was an innocent new segment. that’s all it was supposed to be. an informative post about the fire station 118 and how they work. taylor and her team had sauntered their way through the firehouse, gazing at the engines and the shiny structures that surrounded them. she recorded anything she could, despite requests of space and those who didn’t wish to be recorded.

y/n had been one of those, out of her relationship from her ex boyfriend. she was in active hiding, fleeing across the country to get away from such a man. he had been watching her every move, and she’d been meticulous in concealing herself. she’d heard of the situation maddie was in, dealing with the uncertainty of her location and condition. it was nightmare fuel, the thought haunting y/n in her sleep as she lay next to eddie at night.

she wanted to be able to tell him, but the more people who didn’t know, was better. she figured she’d be putting him in danger if eddie knew, especially the people around him. if something happened to eddie, she would never be able to move on from the life she wants to put behind her. the discarded ring of a man who was never truly her fiancé was something she needed to forget about.

the moment she saw the news segment had aired, her heart dropped. she fought to have herself removed, but that was not what happened. taylor removed other details of the day gone-wrong, but didn’t remove her identity. y/n had voiced her concerns very clearly to taylor and eddie, and eddie was pissed that no one would listen. she panicked as her name was splayed across the screen with a clean view of her face, easily recognizable. she knew he was looking for her.

she tried to reassure herself, but the joke was on her. she was now sitting in the familiar car with the disgusting smell of cigarettes and the sick excuse of a man. she was jostled awake in the moving vehicle. she didn’t dare to mumble a single word, her body frozen in fright.

“morning, sleepyhead,” the raspy and evil voice entered her ears.

“what did you do?” she managed to spit out.

he laughs grimly, in a tormenting manner. “you really thought i wasn’t going to find you? i’ll give it to you, it took a while but i finally have you where i want you.”

“why are you doing this, mark? i didn’t do anything to you.”

“you said we were supposed to be together. and you lied, y/n. you know i don’t like lies. like, come on, were you that stupid?”

“you kidnapped me in this car. i’m not the stupid one.”

“whatever you say, princess,” she moves her hand up to brush the hair out of her face when he grips her wrist painfully. “but if you ever say anything like that again, you will never go back.”

her eyes remain dry, feeling completely numb as she continues to stare forward. “you literally left me no choice! i love you! you love me and you just left me? you turned into a monster, a selfish, backstabbing person and it’s not my fault!”

“no, it’s not,” she complies, almost giving up entirely to make herself feel worthy. she plays into his act of the hero, when he’s been the villain in disguise.

he had driven her two hours out of los angeles, taking the backroads to avoid any interaction with people. y/n, in a complete terror, tries to formulate a plan in her head but everything is shut down by her own fears. “i have to use the bathroom, mark.”

“what? why?”

“because i am a human, it’s not like i had the chance before we left.”

“shit, fine. say anything and you’re dead,” he threatens, pulling up to an empty gas station with only a few workers inside. he lurks around, pretending that he’s browsing the selections. she speeds to the bathroom in the back, which looks like it hasn’t been occupied in years.

something in her mind switches, so she grabs a pen out of her pant pocket and searches around for anything she can. her eyes land on the paper towels, madly ripping one off and clicking her pen. she writes a message on it, prepared to hide it in her sleeve as they walk out. idiot she thinks.

“y/n!” mark bangs on the door. “c’mon, we have to go!”

she turns the sink on and off and discards of any evidence. she grabs the door and takes a deep breath, and swings it open to be confronted by the towering figure. she felt like he was feet taller, but he wasn’t. she had been so used to making herself feel smaller that she forgot the feeling.

the workers in the front had noticed the discomfort on y/n’s face. they could make an accusation, or believe that someone else would do something. “would y’all like to buy something?” one asked.

y/n looked at mark, scared for anything he react to. y/n steps closer to the counter, “yeah, can i get a pack of marlboro?”

“sure thing,” the other says and grab the pack of cigarettes from the back. he places it in front of her as y/n fishes for her credit card, swiping the note she’d written under it. somehow, marks obliviousness had missed the piece of white under it. she praised whoever made him this ignorant. after the machine dinged and the payment was made, mark grabbed her hand and moved out of the small store.

“i’m sorry,” she immediately begins to apologize. “it was a distraction to them.”

“whatever, get in the car.”

the workers had found the paper on the counter, all folded up and ink spilling through the back.

call 911, ask for sergeant athena grant.

two hrs out of la, gray toyota, license plate 2R7-983

the first man blanked, not knowing what to do but his suspicions were confirmed. the woman was not safe, so he did what he was told on the paper. he dialed 911.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the soothing voice came through.

“uh, i’m in solvang, and we just had a couple come in and i think the woman needs help.”

“did you get the name of the woman?”

“the name on the card was y/n, i didn’t remember any last name. she had y/c/h, about y/h tall, and she left a note asking for athena… grant?” this man was properly trained for emergencies, giving all the important details and steps they’d need.

“and what’s your name?”

“tyler,”

“ok, tyler, did she mention anything else?”

“yes! she mentioned a grey toyota and the license plate.”

“perfect, can i have the plate number?”

“it says… 2R7-983.”

“did she seem distressed?”

“yeah, she was scared and she looked tired and, i don’t know she just looked like something was really wrong.”

athena had taken the information, instantly realizing the name. she knew y/n very well, from bobby, eddie, and just being in the system she had been around her. she loved her, y/n was a great person and was good at her job. she was a gracious human, never leaving an ounce of disrespect in her tracks.

“grant!” her chief called. “we got a call from dispatch requesting you on a case, we’ve got a woman named y/n, domestic abuse concerns and she left a note with your name on it?”

“y/n? as in y/l/n? with the 118?”

“i didn’t want to assume, but i believe it is. i looked at her files and she’s had some past calls with a man named mark peterson, believed to have taken her.”

“son of a bitch,” she curses. “do we have an idea of where they might have gotten?”

“they were seen in solvang, two hours out.”

“so we get personnel out there asap?”

“exactly. we get out there and get this guy.”

y/n and he had stopped at a small inn, getting a room and a hideout for the night. he used a fake name for the both of them, lying through his teeth to the receptionist at the front desk. y/n was forced to put on a fake smile and a thrilled appearance, which she thought she should win an oscar for. they settled in the room, and she slowly started to accept her fate.

back at the home, eddie was in a slight rush. she hadn’t responded to any texts or calls. she claimed they would meet up the next day, but there were no traces left of her. externally, he put on a cool front for his son, but internally, his heart was sprinting. she could be anywhere. she could have a dead phone, or she could be dead herself. he tried not to think of the former, but he couldn’t stop himself.

eddie had loved y/n the moment she stepped into the station on her first day. he didn’t think he had any more love left to give. but, she shined her radiant smile and her adorable personality and eddie was head over heels. he’s been through hell with shannon and everything, and he wanted to never take anyone else again. y/n showed him a new side, making him realize that he needed affection, and she was more thankful to give that to him. he felt like the best version of himself when she had been with him the past few years, and that’s all he needs. he couldn’t let himself breathe until he found her, calling anyone who might know. until, he finally resorted to the police, calling athena.

“hey, athena,” he rushes out. “y/n, i- i don’t know where she is and that’s really unlike her, so-“

“diaz…” she says, making anxiety rise in eddie’s body.

“what? what happened? is she ok?”

“we believe she was taken,” eddie’s heart sinks to the floor, immediately turning his blood cold. “do you know a mark peterson?”

“no, never heard of him. i’m going to find her,”

“absolutely not, eddie. we are finding her now,” athena tries her best to ease his terror, but it fails.

“then i’m coming with you, i’ll be at the station in 10.”

eddie sits shotgun in athena’s police car after he got carla to watch christopher. he couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing up and down and his fingers to quit fidgeting. athena takes note of this.

“she’s going to be alright, we’ve got a lot of evidence for this.”

“we don’t know where the hell she is, we have no answers.”

“you’re right, we don’t. but you think she’d want you to lose hope on her?” eddie looks at her, staring at her eyes on the road before turning his phone on. he’s confronted with a picture of y/n and christopher together, pure smiles on their face as his world is out of touch. it’s only on a screen, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

y/n sat, frozen on the bed of the hotel room. she was completely burnt out, thinking that she was stuck with him forever. that news segment. if only she wasn’t shown on the fucking news segment, he wouldn’t have reappeared in her life.

his fake smiles and taunting words had become nothing but useless ones. she was living in her nightmare of having to deal with him, but she thought back to eddie.

every single memory they’d made over the past few years came flooding through her head. from her teaching him how to cook, to their first kiss, to last night where she was in his arms. it was beyond her comprehension that this much could happen in 24-hours. the time of her shifts, her normal routines that she longed for right now.

it wasn’t until mark heard knocks on doors, asking how many people were staying there until she was snapped out of her thoughts. she noticed the red and blue lights from outside the window as mark swore to himself. “fuck! get in the bathroom, y/n.”

“n-no, i wanna stay here-“ she argued as he complained back.

“get in there now! i’m not asking you again, or i swear to god, y/n…”

the darkness in his eyes was what forced her to stand up, but leaving her jacket on the bed and taking her shoes off, leaving them in clear sight. the knocks got closer, before the own piece of wood separating them was banged. mark opened the door casually, like nothing was going on. it always scared y/n the most. the way he could put up this front and act like some innocent man.

“hello, officer!” he said politely. “can i do anything?”

“hello, sir,” athena said, knowing he was the one to be holding y/n. “may i just ask, how many people are in this hotel?”

“just me, miss.”

“alright, i see. i saw this room was booked for two, and i’m assuming those articles of clothing aren’t yours?”

mark stops right in his tracks, wanting to pull y/n out of that bathroom and reprimand her for leaving her stuff. his face dropping, he didn’t know what to say. athena knew it too.

“mind if i take a look around? missing person warning, we have to be sure.”

his expression did not change, but he panicked on the inside. he was a quick man, but not quick enough to prevent athena’s abrupt hand against the closing door. she pulled him out, pressing him against the wall as she called for backup. “better luck next time, mark. let’s have a few words, you have the right to remain silent…”

y/n’s fingers were pressed in her ears, trying to block out any of the commotion or yelling that might’ve commenced. she’d already heard too much tonight, scared to traumatize herself any further. the noise concealed by her hands made her not even notice the opening of the door, and fearful to turn around and see his face again. she had been crying violently on the cold tiles of the bathroom, praying she’d be out of this mess. y/n’s instinct was to flinch at the hand pressed against her shoulder. eventually, she realized it was a humane one. she slowly turned herself around, locking eyes with athena. “we’ve got him, y/n.”

she sighed out in relief, but also in preparation for the storm of tears pouring out of her eyes. her hand went to cover her mouth in disbelief. she’d been hiding from this man for years, and she finally didn’t have to. she knew for a while that she wasn’t really free, she was just away from him. at last, the game of hide and seek ended, and it’s all going to be different.

her hand connected with athena’s, pulling her off the ground and out of the room. she was brought outside, lurking around the parking lot in desperate hopes for someone she loves. someone who’s touch can heal any wound. her dreams came true, when she saw eddie walking toward her.

“eddie,” she gasps out.

“y/n!” he runs closer, scooping her up into his arms and kissing her face frantically. “oh my god, i’m so sorry, mi vida, i’m so, so sorry.”

“i should’ve told you, i should’ve said something.”

“no, no, it’s not your fault. it never has been and it never will be.”

“i was so scared my life was over again. that i’d never see you or christopher, or hen or chim and buck or bobby and-“

“hey, calm down, ok? it’s all going to be ok, i’m here,” eddie doesn’t let go or let her release herself from his arms. she looks him dead in the eye, making sure he’s real and that she isn’t just searching for an answer. “they’ve got him, you never have to see him again. you won, baby.”

she won. she won? y/n didn’t feel like she won. the whole scenario still felt like a twisted prank, but it wasn’t. it was real, and she ended it. the years of making herself smaller and degrading herself because of one man were over. the time where she was continuously proven as less than had stopped.

she has eddie forever now, so if anyone had won, it was her.

[charmandabear]

Blood and Brandy

Summary:

Astarion and Jaheira both need a little bit of a release after the events with the Elder Brain.

Pairing: Astarion/Jaheira Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.3k Tags/Warnings: outdoor sex, piv, cunnilingus, vampire bites, praise kink, pet names

She's writing again! And this one was particularly fun to write, thank you @whispering-depths for the commission! I've gotten into the gif making game, so here are a few more inspired by this fic. Also, huge shout outs to @githyankidanky, @danse--macabre, and @sanguine-sunlight for championing the Jahstarion tag, y'all are the real heroes of this fic.

Read it on AO3.

Astarion comes swaggering into the Elfsong, waving down Alan for his usual post-hunt wine. It’s rarely a pleasant taste, but after the thrill of taking down an elk twice the size of him, he needs something to help him settle down enough to trance. He has no idea what time it is, only that it’s after midnight, so he’s surprised to see Jaheira sitting in an armchair in the corner, nursing a brandy and reading an issue of The Baldur’s Mouth. After swiping his wine glass off the bar, he makes his way over to her, hoping that his gait is more of a saunter than a stumble.

“Well if it isn’t the noble Jaheira,” he croons, perching himself on the arm of her chair and leaning his elbow onto the back. “Don’t you know that the Witching Hour is only for vampires and the deeply lonely?”

“How convenient, then, that you are both,” she lobs back at him, keeping her eyes on her newspaper.

Astarion gasps dramatically, clutching invisible pearls at his chest. “Jaheira, I’m hurt! How can you call me lonely when I have such lovely company right here?” He leans over her shoulder and her musky fragrance mixes with the spice of brandy, the intoxicating combination going directly to his head.

Jaheira drops her paper slightly, looking up at Astarion over her reading glasses. “I am not fooled by your theatrics, Astarion, I saw your little pout when you learned that Tav went to Avernus with Karlach.” She folds up her paper and smirks. “It isn’t easy seeing your ex and their new beau together.”

Astarion bristles slightly before slipping the mask back on. “Nonsense, Tav and I both agreed it was for the best to remain friends back at Last Light, I couldn’t be happier for them and Karlach.”

“Uh-huh,” Jaheira deadpans, thoroughly unconvinced. “And after they helped free you from your old master’s control, your feelings about intimacy did not change?”

Astarion sweeps over to the chair across from Jaheira, dropping himself into it and crossing his legs. He studies her for a moment, simultaneously discomforted and intrigued by her surprisingly accurate read on him. She smirks, the skin around her striking hazel eyes crinkling, and Astarion shifts under her penetrating gaze.

“Why do you ask, are you interested?” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, although whether from nervousness or simply old habits, he’s unsure. 

“A cute young thing like you?” Jaheira barks out a laugh. “I’m not sure if I could keep up.”

Astarion giggles, a little surprised by the giddy twinge that shoots through his core. “Jaheira, I’m older than you, by a good century.”

“And yet your skin is so smooth and supple. You must tell me your skincare secrets.” She narrows her eyes mischievously, crossing her legs and taking a sip of her brandy.

“A steady diet of the blood of the innocents will do wonders for your complexion,” Astarion grins, flashing just a hint of fang. Jaheira’s smile widens.

“Lucky for me, then, it sounds like I’m safe,” she retorts, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d almost think that the tips of his ears tinge pink.

The two quickly lose track of time, their comfortable banter and friendly jabs making it pass quickly. It’s only when Alan announces last call that they fully take stock of just how empty the Elfsong has become.

“Ah, the life of an insomniac isn’t an easy one,” Jaheira sighs. “Would you care to join me on my nightly walk to find the sandman?” She stands and stretches, and Astarion can’t keep his wandering eye from traveling down her figure.

“I can think of a few ways to tire you out,” he offers, making little attempt to hide the seduction in his voice. It’s a bit of a clumsier proposal than he’s capable of, but honestly at this point, he knows they can both use a release.

“I’m sure you could, cub,” she chuckles as she crosses over to him and pats his cheek, enjoying watching him try to hide the flustered look that creeps onto his face.

The night air is refreshing, and the city streets feel almost eerily quiet. They stroll aimlessly past darkened windows, neither really paying attention to where they’re going, until they find themselves wandering into the graveyard. Astarion surprises himself when he realizes that he’s subconsciously led Jaheira to a distantly familiar ivy-covered headstone. He pauses in front of it, his eyes tracing the faint outline of his name.

“Two hundred years,” he says quietly, and Jaheira peers over his shoulder. He looks back at her and chuckles, “That’s longer than you’ve been alive, gran.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jaheira groans. She looks on contemplatively, then adds, “You know, I don’t think I fully expressed how proud I am of you for stopping Cazador’s ritual.”

Astarion makes a noise somewhere between a scoff and a giggle. “You’re just trying to make me blush, aren’t you?”

“Maybe as a nice little side effect, perhaps,” she says coyly, sliding her eyes over to him. “But truly. With how much you have suffered, it takes a lot of strength to turn down all that power. And now, with a tadpole free brain, you can’t even go into the sun anymore.” She taps on his forehead to emphasize the point, and he swats her hand away playfully. Then her eyes unfocus slightly, and Astarion realizes she’s gone somewhere else entirely. “In my youth, I don’t know if I would’ve been strong enough.”

He studies her profile, brow furrowed as she loses herself in her memory. “I wouldn’t have expected the Great Jaheira to be tempted by something so base as a little power,” he says, punctuating his statement with that high pitched giggle of his. 

She returns to reality and flashes a grin at him. “You’d be surprised what I was tempted by when I was younger.”

Astarion’s eyebrows disappear into his well-coiffed hair. “Oh really? Do tell.”

“Another Rite of questionable morals,” she says with a humorless laugh. “Although admittedly, fewer sacrificed souls in the process. The Rite of Timeless Body, an old druidic ritual practiced by some of the more esoteric circles, allows the practitioner to extend their life span well beyond its natural reach.” 

Astarion crosses his arms and nods approvingly, taking a step back to get a renewed look at Jaheira. “Walking away from immortality takes some steel, I’m impressed.”

She shrugs noncommittally. “It feels a little less impressive when I’m standing in a graveyard in the last few decades of my life with a handsome young vampire who is a hundred years older than me.”

“If you want me to make you feel young again, you only need to ask,” Astarion grins salaciously, and Jaheira barks out a laugh.

“I might be younger than you, but I’m far too old to fall for your lines, cub,” she says, patting his cheek again. He grabs her hand, suddenly but not forcefully, and presses his lips to the inside of her wrist.

“Then maybe you can teach this old dog some new tricks,” he breathes against her skin, looking at her through heavy lidded eyes. She bites down on her tongue to keep her breath steady.

“So hungry now that he’s free,” she smirks, letting her hand cup his cheek. The stark contrast in temperature makes both of them shiver.

“Don’t tell me it’s not what you want,” he coos. “It’s been too long since Khalid, hasn’t it?”

“Oh, so this is for my benefit?” She lets herself step a bit closer to him, his bergamot perfume clouding her senses. “How very selfless of you, Astarion.”

He pulls on her wrist to close the distance between their bodies, putting her hand in his hair but keeping their faces a few inches apart. Waiting for her to make the final move. Surprisingly considerate, she notes to herself. She feels him pressed against her, his sinewy muscles pleasant against her soft flesh. His breath on her lip is cool, almost refreshing, with just a hint of lingering wine.

She leans in to kiss him, rough and unsteady, and his hands quickly move to her hips and squeeze her tight. He pushes her back until she’s up against a tree, pressing his knee up between her legs as he kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

“Don’t think you can get a free meal out of this,” she warns, but the sharp edge of her statement was dulled by her breathlessness. Astarion laughs against her skin.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” he hums between kisses, his fingers nimbly undoing the buttons down the front of her tunic. She arches her back into him as he slides his hand around her waist, his palm cool against her flushed skin.

“Ah-ah,” she slows him, pushing his hand away from her waist. He pulls away, wondering if she’s suddenly changed her mind, but she appears to be listening intently. “Not here, it’s too–”

“Close to civilization?” he smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“I was going to say sacred, but I suppose that’s true too,” she laughs. He grabs her hand and pulls her to the city wall on the outskirts of the graveyard. After a moment of struggle, he clambors to the top of it, looking down at her with an extended hand.

“Need help?” he asks and she rolls her eyes, smoothly shifting into her panther form and leaping over the wall with ease. She shifts back and looks up at him smugly as Astarion pinches his lips together, breath slightly uneven, his cock already pushing into the fabric of his pants. He drops down on the other side and she pulls him in by the collar for another messy kiss. 

“I’m starting to think you’re the one who can’t keep up with me,” she murmurs into his lips, giving his hair a quick tug. She delights in watching him struggle to keep his composure, hiding his want with a disaffected smile.

It doesn’t take long for them to find a grassy outcropping on the side of the mountain below the city. Jaheira shrugs off her tunic as Astarion makes quick work of removing his blousey linen top. Once they’re both shirtless, they crash back together, skin against skin, their mouths working hungrily against one another. Astarion pushes her up against a steep rocky slope of the mountain, palming her soft freckled breast in his hand. She inhales sharply as he flicks his thumb over her nipple, feeling it harden in the cool night air. 

She grabs him by the hair and pushes him down so that his lips line up with the sensitive pink flesh. He smiles as he swirls his tongue around the pert bud, and she sighs as her head falls back against the rock behind her. She holds onto his shoulders, unabashedly digging her nails into his skin. He ever so slightly teases her nipple with his front teeth, and he’s delighted when her hips buck into him.

“More interested in a bite than you first thought, eh Jaheira?” he hums, and she glares down at him.

“On your knees, vampire, and we’ll see,” she growls, and the tone of her voice makes Astarion’s cock twitch. He happily complies, and he can already smell her arousal through the cotton of her trousers. She might be able to feign apathy in her expression, but the heat of her cunt gives away how much she really wants him. He slides his fingers into her waistband and pulls her trousers down to her feet, which she quickly kicks off. He kneels forward to taste her but she stops him with the ball of her foot on his chest.

“You too,” she commands in a husky voice, her eyes flickering to the bulge in his leathers before locking back on his blood red eyes. His lips curl into a smile as he slides down his pants, maintaining eye contact with her. She breaks it when his cock springs free, only half hard and already impressive.

He digs his fingers into her hips and licks a stripe up her slit. She slides her fingers into his hair and drapes a leg over his shoulder, pinning him into position so she can maintain control. He laps up her arousal that’s pooling on her lips, threatening to drip. She quickly loses her hesitation to make noise, and her breathy moans as his tongue dives in and around her folds make his cock ache. He tries to subtly stroke himself as he continues to work her with his tongue, but she looks down and catches him.

“So needy, aren’t you, cub?” she purrs, and the noise he makes in response to the pet name is frankly a bit embarrassing. She laughs but it swiftly dissolves into a moan as he flicks his tongue across the hood of her clit. She tightens her hands in his hair and he increases the pace of his tongue, trying to keep up with the rutting of her hips against his face. The sounds of her pleasure as she gets closer to release, now unrestrained, only serve to spur him on further. He darts his tongue in and out of her, stopping only to lightly suckle on her clit.

“Ah– gods— Astarion!'' She shouts his name as she climaxes and he continues to lick her through her orgasm, feeling her pussy throb against his lips. He clutches her thigh as she slowly comes down, panting, and then eventually she releases the tight hold she had on his hair, ruffling it lightly.

“Well done, you know what you’re doing,” she says breathlessly, and he uses his palm to wipe his mouth clean.

“What can I say other than years of practice?” he smirks, standing and pressing his body to hers, his erection thick against her thigh. “I’ll give you a minute to recover, you old crone.”

“I’m ready for round two when you are, pretty boy,” she vaults back, pulling him in for another sloppy kiss. He slides his hand under her inner thigh and pulls her leg up, pinning her knee to the rocky cliff face. He positions the tip of his cock at her entrance, pausing just long enough to tease her into another growl. She squeezes a hand in his hair and he takes the hint to slide into her, their groans of pleasure mingling in the night air. 

He begins to pump in and out of her at a steady pace, her walls squeezing around his cock with every thrust. He drops his head into the crook of her neck, breathing hard and inhaling the sweet scent of her sweat. He peppers her flesh with desperate kisses, nipping at her skin without breaking it. She knows he won’t bite without permission, but he’s also not bothering to hide how much he wants to. She grabs his hair and pulls his ear to her lips.

“Just once,” she hisses, and he lets out a shuddering moan. “Somewhere I can cover, and no drinking.”

“Yes ma’am,” he groans, and bites down into the flesh where her neck meets her shoulder. She clenches around his cock at the sudden pain, but he quickly follows it with soothing licks to the bite mark. 

“Good boy,” she pants as he laps at her neck, and the praise causes him to push into her even harder, until a particularly jagged rock hits her spine. She puts her hand to his chest to get him to stop. “Astarion, wait.”

He pulls away from her, and she finds his dazed expression with his hair falling into his eyes to be surprisingly charming.

“Get on your back,” she hums, jerking her head towards the soft grass nearby. He lets out a visible sigh of relief before quickly positioning himself on his back, resting on his elbows to watch as she saunters over to him. She stands over him for a minute, appreciating the light flush across his normally very pale skin. He wets his lips as she gets to her knees, teasing him with her cunt in revenge for his earlier cheekiness. 

She sinks down onto him as he raises his hips needily to meet her. He grabs her thighs as she rides him, his fingers dimpling the soft flesh. She braces herself on his chest with a hand, her nails digging into his skin as she rocks her hips into him.

“Gods, Jaheira, you’re–” Astarion pants, the words getting caught in his throat. His head falls back into the soft grass and he arches his back into her. 

“Finally speechless, eh, Astarion?” she chuckles, and he shoots a glare back at her that quickly melts into a whimper. She pulls his face up to hers, treating him with another sloppy kiss before pushing his lips back to her tits. He eagerly takes her into his mouth, licking and sucking the sensitive skin. He ruts his hips into her as she grinds down on him, eagerly chasing her second release. He grazes his teeth against her breast and she shudders before yanking him back by his hair.

“Don’t be a brat,” she hisses through gritted teeth, and Astarion flashes her a self-satisfied grin.

“No need to keep up appearances. It’s clear that you want me to. No one will see it, and we both get what we want.” He lightly brushes her nipple with his tongue and she grunts as she tries to stifle her moan. “Come, Jaheira, let me make you purr,” he hums into her skin, nipping to punctuate his sentence.

“Fine,” she grumbles and lets go of his hair. “But one wrong move, vampire, and I’ll keep you pinned here until sunrise.” He grins and eagerly bites down, puncturing her skin but keeping his promise not to drink. He laps at the dark red drops that drip down the curve of her breast and she groans, arching her back and pushing her tits further into his mouth. He takes her encouragement and bites again, making a twin mark on the other side of her chest. She claws into his shoulders, bracing herself rather than telling him to stop.

The contrasting sensations of the ice cold shard of pain with the cool balm of his tongue afterwards is unlike anything Jaheira has ever felt, and she can feel the pressure building in her core. She moves her hand down to her clit and begins rubbing small circles in time with Astarion’s upward thrusts. He smirks and increases his pace, spurred on by her pleasure. 

“That’s it, cub, keep going,” she moans, and his balls begin to tighten at the praise. He grabs onto her hips, pulling her down onto him hard as he continues to fuck up into her, rapidly losing control of his speed. “Come for me, cub.”

It’s all he needs. A burst of pleasure rockets through his core as he spills into her, feeling her walls clench and throb around him as her own orgasm tears through her body. Her unabashed cries of pleasure only heightens the feeling, riding out the long waves of her climax with his rapidly softening dick.

When the ripples finally settle and the two of them are left breathing hard, Jaheira pulls off him and Astarion admires the sight of his thick seed dripping down her leg. She catches him looking and chuckles, “Just be grateful I’m too old to bring any dhampirs into this world.”

Astarion guffaws, still a little giddy from his orgasm and struggling to parse what the fuck just happened. “Trust me, no one needs that less than me,” he says with a breathless laugh. 

They clean themselves up in a comfortable silence, carefully picking up their swiftly discarded garments and redressing. They briefly make eye contact before bursting into sudden laughter.

Jaheira shakes dirt out of her hair and says, “Well this most certainly will not happen again.”

“Absolutely not,” Astarion agrees, but he can’t stop himself from smiling when he sees the light flush bloom across her freckled cheeks. They lock eyes on one another again before quickly looking away.

It’s a long walk back to the Elfsong.

@marvellover-12 @marlowethebard @pursuitseternal @imjiminiebean @gylving @beepersteeper

[jxsterr]

something crazy that’s just crossed my mind is the whole thing of does zelda miss link while she’s stuck in the past? i know the memories don’t do shit all justice to tell us ANYTHING about zelda’s feelings on this whole situation but it does make you wonder. i personally think she misses him like he’s dead

because imagine this. you’ve been trapped in stasis for literally a century. you’ve watched all of your friends and family die. then your knight, the one you watched die in your arms, finally comes back and frees you. you then move into a small house together, it’s not much but it’s honest living. you spruce it up with decorations until you can both stand back and say, “yeah, this feels like home.” you live the next year or so quaintly, travelling around hyrule to restore it to its former glory as best as you can, all within the company of someone you hold closer than a best friend. he’s still there, even though he doesn’t have to be, and follows you ever loyally. you wonder if he’ll ever go his own way, but his insistence on remaining by your side makes you think otherwise.

you believe in the strength of learning, that the children of hyrule need to be better educated in order to solidify a strong future for the kingdom, so you build a school. you hire teachers and organise the school’s curriculum, taking part so much that you become a teacher yourself. he greets you every evening when you come home and plates up dinner already piping hot so you don’t have to worry about it. life continues this way, simple and non exhaustive, living earnestly beside someone who would extinguish the sun if it meant you’d smile. you love him, realistically, and he loves you too.

something stirs under the castle and, like the good princess you are, you go trundling into the depths below with your loyal knight to solve the problem. it bears endless discoveries, things you know you’ll stay up all night studying; things that bring you so much joy that he holds your torch so you can enjoy it without interruption. instead of the torch, he’s soon holding a shattered blade in his bloody hand, arm eaten and burnt raw by something that smells so vile it’s all you can do not to vomit. you watch the world fall into peril once more, and as you do so, you feel yourself falling to the exact same fate. you see the way he throws away legend and jumps after you, knowing that he is also falling to his demise. you see the fear in his eyes, the way tears cling to the corners of them and feel the burn of your own.

his plan was always to die by your side, and he will do it by any means necessary.

you wake up and he’s gone, your world is gone, and you’re somewhere new. two strange people greet you and quickly take you under their wing, and while a new world means endless discoveries, you can’t help but wonder if link is dead. did he kill himself alongside you, only for you to somehow survive and let him fall alone? the thought makes the bile creep up your throat.

who’s to say that, during the period of time where link is unconscious, she isn’t wracked with guilt at the realisation that he may be dead? she’s thousands upon thousands of years in the past, and his body may be the only one laid cold at the bottom of that chasm. would people even remember him? yes, he was the hero of hyrule, but he’d always kept a low profile. humble to a fault, she’d tell him. and the fault may be that if he’s dead, perhaps only her name would grace the lips of hyrule. the survivor’s guilt would eat her whole knowing that he’s died for her twice now.

so you can imagine her relief when she feels the pull of him and his sword. the relief when she can make her vow to him. the relief in knowing that he’s okay, somehow, and that he’s alive above everything else. but now that she knows he’s okay, what’s there left to do? well, miss him, of course. they’re inseparable and very rarely do things without the company of the other, she’s going to miss him like her right arm.

in the day she’s surrounded by people—sonia, rauru, mineru and her army of constructs, plus the rest of the people of this era of hyrule—but come the night, she’s alone. her bed lacks the warmth it used to hold, doesn’t bear the imprint of where her love has slept beside her. she’s painfully, irrefutably alone. she’ll step out onto the balcony of the castle alone and wish he was by her side, wish that she could just speak to him again even for a little while. for as long as she walks this hyrule, there is an overwhelming, gaping hole in her chest. she finds comfort in the presence of sonia, rauru and mineru but there’s only so much they can do. she talks to sonia about him. she talks to rauru about him. she talks to mineru about him. anyone who will listen to her speak of her talented hero, she will talk to.

she rides a construct and thinks of him. a steward construct explains to her the biodiversity of the land and she thinks of him. she spends her nights at her desk, quill in hand and illuminated by candlelight, and writes in her diary as if she’s speaking to him. it cuts her open over and over with every day she has to wake up alone.

when she decides the only thing fate has left in store for her is to become a dragon to aid link in the future, she weeps for days on end. she knows that this is it, everything she’s ever known will be beyond her forever now. she lives on in the skies, but her soul dies here. all those years they spent together building a life together, growing, all for nothing. they were cursed from the very beginning. ever since they fell to the calamity the first time fate has had it out for them. and so her last thoughts while she can still think are of him. she prays for his safety, for his success, and for him to have a happy and long life without her. she weeps knowing she’ll never grow old with him or get to experience the revival of her kingdom. it tears her from the inside out, and she screams even as a dragon at the loss. it’s overwhelming, devastating beyond any weight words could hold. she’s lost everything, lost everyone, and lost herself. she was doomed from the beginning. she was never meant to be happy.

so yes, the ending of totk should’ve been a HELL of a lot more emotionally charged. seeing someone you thought was dead AND that you worried you’d never see again?? she’d be crying for hours in his arms

[baejax-the-great]

One Last Drink

“Well, here we are old friend.”

Varric takes one cup out of his pack, then another. He plonks each down on the creepy green stone he supposes he’ll be seeing a lot more of in the coming days and pours in some brandy from his flask.

He raises his cup aloft and says, “I always wanted to have one last drink with you.”

This is a lie. But then Varric is a liar. Hawke would forgive him for it.

He didn’t want to have one last drink with Hawke—he wanted a hundred more drinks with Hawke, a thousand. He wanted to sit around with her in their old age with creaky knees and white hair drinking mead and shouting over the table because their ears were both shot. He wanted to slide into old age listening to her sass all those heroes that have followed in her footsteps. He wanted to see her wielding a cane in a bar fight.

But this—this is what he has.

He taps the rim of his cup to Hawke's. The brandy goes down burning.

“You know, I somehow doubt drinking in the Fade will make it any better,” he says. “Seems like the place you’d probably want to be sober for.”

His ears strain. Was that a whisper somewhere? The Fade is weird. Maybe he’ll get a response. What would Hawke say, anyway?

Isn’t the end of the world a good enough occasion for you?

Something like that. Light tone of voice, half twisted smile at the end, she’d clink her cup to his and take a swig, maybe point out that if the Fade is now leaking into everywhere, then anywhere is as good a place to sit and drink with a friend.

“This new generation,” he says, “They’re something. They grew up hungry for a fight. Fearless. They saw the sky explode as kids. They’ve known something was wrong their entire lives. But then, I guess you also were forged in the crucible of apocalyptic disaster.”

Lothering wasn’t that bad.

This she’d say with an artful quirk of her eyebrow before letting her smile take over her face.

Varric fills his cup again. He’s played this game before, become the author of who Hawke would be if she was still anyone. He can hear her voice in his head so clearly, but for years he’s had that creeping doubt that her voice is actually just his. It’s been ten years after all.

He doesn’t know why he thought the Fade might do something nice for once. Solas always talked about those friendly spirits, but it looks like one can’t be assed to channel Hawke for Varric.

“These Veil Jumpers—out of their minds. You know they come here on purpose? Reminds me of you and all those damn caves you dragged us into, except the caves didn’t shift around while we weren’t paying attention. Similar number of demons, though.”

Not by the time I got done with them.

“They told me that right here, right where we are? That’s a fixed point. A landmark.”

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Bellara had said when Varric stopped in his tracks on seeing the statue. “She always seems to be pointed toward an exit, though, so we’re always on the lookout for her. We call her Macabre Martha.”

I’ve been called worse and you know it. You wrote all those names down in your book—you know them better than I do. Not to mention the atrocious name my own mother gave me.

Varric pats the foot of the statue next to him.

“Should I tell them who you are?”

That question he has not been able to answer for her. He looks up the silent statue, Hawke, caught in the moment a spider’s claw pierced her chest, her mouth open, her eyes wide in horror, both woman and spider leg petrified together.

He somehow thought in this place, in this warped reality, if he summoned her up in his mind, maybe she’d still be here. Maybe she’d speak to him. Maybe he could get her to look less scared.

This isn't how she'd want anyone to remember her.

“Never thought I’d see a statue of you worse than the one we put down by the docks.”

Varric pushes himself to his feet. He puts a hand on her arm as if to comfort her in the last frozen moment of her life. He thinks maybe this time the stone will crumble under his hands and reveal her, still fighting, still able to be saved, still ready with a joke.

This? Minor flesh wound. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been impaled.

It’s just stone under his hand. Stone, and half his heart stuck in this awful place for the rest of time.

He picks up Hawke’s cup and drinks that, too. He places the half-full flask at her feet in case she ever gets thirsty.  

“So long, old friend.” He gives her one last squeeze on the arm, then shuffles off in the direction of her terrified expression. The next generation of adventurers awaits, and Varric isn’t so quick these days.

The susurrations of the Fade are all that answers him, but he still calls her voice to mind. So long, Varric.