#so i asked her and she responded back saying it was a ship name

[cloudzoro]

Forever | Roronoa Zoro ♡

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genre: smut (minors dni)

pairings: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

cw: unprotected sex, established relationship, size kink, marriage proposal, husband and wife are used multiple times, Zoro decides that maybe he does care about love, gross couple flirting, I'm british so I say sun cream instead of sunscreen x

masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper."

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Zoro isn't marriage material. At least, that's what he thinks. He's never been interested in marriage, and he was never interested in sex or relationships until he met you. The natural progression of your relationship from acquaintances to friends to lovers was slow and casual. There were no grand gestures, emotional confessions or anything else from those horrid romance books you read that make Zoro gag. He had never officially asked you out. One day, after months of flirting and sleeping together, Sanji was getting a little too close to you and Zoro barked at the cook to leave his girl alone. You never denied that you were his girl and later on that night, when he was fucking you into the mattress, you confirmed that you were his and only his.

It's a gorgeous day at sea, and you're out on the deck sunbathing with Nami. Zoro observes you as you lean back with your eyes closed. He tries to continue his daily workout but keeps getting distracted by your figure. Usually, he'd go elsewhere to work out, but with the horny cook hanging around the ship, he doesn't want to take any chances.

Not long into Zoro’s workout, he feels your eyes on him. He turns to meet your eyes, and the way you're hungrily watching him makes him flex his muscles a little harder. You watch him for a few minutes before softly calling his name.

“What is it?” he grunts, acting unbothered. You flash him a grin, holding a bottle of sun cream.

“I can't reach my back”, you pout, and He responds with an eyeroll. He walks over to your sun lounger and sits carefully on the edge. He takes the bottle from your hand and squeezes it.

“Turn over for me”, He instructs. Zoro squirts a generous amount of the cream on his hands. His large hands rub and trace everywhere they can over your back. Zoro uses sun cream as if it's lotion to massage you. As his hands work their magic on your tightly-wound back muscles, the cute noises falling from your lips make his cock twitch.

“Do you two mind not doing your awkward foreplay out here?” says Nami as she tries to ignore you and soak up the sun. “y'know I can't reach my back either”, her tone teasing, clearly mocking the two of you.

“What a shame”, Zoro deadpans. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade and gets back to his workout.

“Damn, I guess back rubs are wifey exclusives,” says Nami sarcastically. Neither you nor Zoro respond, but the word ‘wife’ rings in his head for the rest of the afternoon. Zoro's not one for marriage, but he thinks you'd look beautiful in a wedding dress.

A few days later, You're on a new island and pass a jewellery shop. You stop to look at the jewellery in the window, and Zoro stands behind you, eyeing the ring display. Thoughts of slipping a beautiful gold ring on your finger and claiming you as his forever taunt him. You're pirates. You could never have a legally recognised wedding. He makes a note of the ring that had caught your eye and thinks to himself that he must be crazy. If you had told Zoro from a few years ago that he'd be contemplating buying a ring for you and ‘marrying’ you, he'd laugh in your face and call you an idiot.

Once your short adventure on the new island is wrapped up, he tells you to go on back to the ship as he needs to take a detour. He instructs Chopper to take care of you, and the tiny reindeer gives a dramatic salute and promises the swordsman to get you home in one piece.

Zoro arrives home about twenty minutes after you and heads straight to your room, where you're already waiting for him. He thinks about dropping to his knees and asking you to marry him the traditional way, but nothing you've ever done has been traditional. You're literally pirates, after all. His heart squeezes when he sees you waiting for him, and it's almost painful. It passes him off how soft he is for you. You've tamed a demon; all it takes is a pretty smile from you, and he's ready to give up his entire life for you.

When you jump up from your shared bed - Franky had installed a couples suite not long after you'd started dating - to greet him, Zoro immediately backs you to the edge of the bed. He connects his lips to yours. He pushes his tongue into your mouth as your hand slides into his hair. He lifts you so you wrap your legs around him, and then he sits on the edge of the bed so you can straddle him. His hands grip your ass and guide you over his hard cock. He groans at the pressure of you over his lap, and it seems you're getting impatient as you whine and rock your hips faster.

Zoro smiles into the messy kiss as he flips you so you're on your back, and he's hovering over you. Your legs are locked around his hips, keeping him pressed against you. He reaches to your lounge shorts and pulls them off with your assistance. He then moves to your top, groping your chest.

“Take this off for me, pretty girl”, he rasps, his voice making your pussy throb. You follow through with his request and remove your shirt alongside your bra. He leans down to kiss and lick over the skin of your chest. His thorough worship of your tits and lack of attention to your pussy have you growing desperate for him. He listens in amusement as you whine for him to touch you. Your voice is the prettiest thing he's ever heard. Your voice is as precious to him as the sound of a blade swinging through the air. His life was all swords, blood and guts until you showed up. Sometimes, he resents you and your determination because he's lost all credibility among the crew after being caught behaving softly with you. “Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you, I promise.”

“I just want you”, You whimper, using your legs to push him against your soaked panties.

“you've already got me. I'm right here” You should have known he'd want a more specific answer from you.

“I want your cock, Zoro. Please” He's almost flat against you at this point, body pressing you down into the mattress.

“You'll get my cock, I promise. Just answer something for me first.” He asks, and you try to clear your thoughts as you nod. “You're mine, right? forever?”

You are. In every sense of the word, you are his. He's yours, too. He has been since you flashed your pretty smile at him. Suddenly, for the first time in his life, Zoro feels nervous. You nod, telling him that you'll always be his. He digs around in his pocket, and at first, you don't have time to process what he has in his hands because he kisses you aggressively. You feel cold metal press against your ring finger, and your eyes snap open, pushing Zpro back slightly to talk to him.

“Is that a ring?” you ask, and he sheepishly nods. You've never seen Zoro this shy as he attempts to explain himself.

“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper. You don't have to consider this a marriage proposal. You can call it a promise ring or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I just wanted something to symbolise that you're mine and no one else. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you” You're stunned into silence by his heartfelt words; he's never been this open and vulnerable with anyone. Part of him thinks you've broken him.

“Are you asking me to be your wife?” you ask, finally getting a look at the ring. Zoro nods, dropping his head to your neck. He reminds you it doesn't have to be a marriage thing. You're constantly out getting into fights and life-threatening situations, so he feels a tangible symbol of your relationship might help keep peace of mind. A small thing to ground you when the world around you gets too hectic. You pull Zoro's head from the crook of your neck so you can look him in the eyes. He's embarrassed about his secret sappiness, but he's secure in his feelings about you.

“I'd love that”, You breathe, leaning up to kiss him, and he's slipping the ring onto your finger within seconds. That's it. He's your husband now. When he's done exploring your mouth with his tongue, he moves his wet kisses down to your neck. He leaves a smattering of purple and red marks over your beautiful tits and traces his tongue down your body. During his descent down your body, he whispers. When he kisses your neck, he tells you that he's a lucky man to have someone like you. He tells you you're beautiful and intelligent as he kisses your tummy. When he kisses your thighs, he tells you how much he admires your strength.

His hand grips your underwear, and he tears it from your body. He adjusts so he's lying on his front between your legs. He leans down to lick at your pussy. His mouth feels so good. You try to lift your hips to grind into his mouth, but one of his large hands holds your hips down. He brings his other hand to your mouth and presses two fingers against your lips. You greedily accept his fingers into your mouth, getting them all nice and slick for him. He pulls his fingers from your lips and pushes them into your hole as he suctions his mouth onto your clit. The combination of his fingers and tongue makes you cum embarrassingly fast, and your legs squeeze his head as the pleasure takes over. Your husband stays in place, licking and fingering you through your high, prepping you for his huge cock. Zoro sits on his knees and admires you when your deep breaths begin to subside. His beautiful wife, laid out in the sheets, looking up at him with a dazed expression. You look satisfied, and that makes pride bloom in Zoro's chest. He removes his trousers to join you in your nakedness and taps the head of his fat cock against your sensitive clit.

“You ready for my cock, baby?” he asks, teasingly rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Please, Zoro” you whine. “Please fuck me.” He'd never say no to you, and as long as he's aboard this ship, no one else is going to either. He pushes his cock, now slick with your juices, into your hole. You both moan at the way your walls have to stretch to accommodate his size. He's no stranger to teasing you, but now that your warm wet cunt is wrapped around his cock, all he can think about is fucking you open. He starts with a brutal pace; he can't help it, your pussy is addicting. He's convinced you have him under some kind of spell.

“Perfect fucking pussy was made for me,” he punctuates each word with a harsh thrust. “This is mine. All mine,” he says.

You try to respond, but you're constantly interrupted by your own moans. Zoro has you whining and gripping the bedsheets beneath you. You feel how deep he is, and the way his hand presses onto your tummy over where his cock is inside you makes your legs tremble. You're close already, and you're rapidly approaching delirium. You're mindlessly babbling about how much you love him and how big his cock is. Zoro may be busy thoroughly fucking your sweet pussy, but he's still listening intently to every slurred word that leaves your mouth.

“I love you too, baby,” he says, responding to your shaky rambling. “You ready to cum for me? he asks with a hungry smile on his face. It always shocks you how Zoro went from someone who couldn't care less about sex to someone who can't go a day without seeing you cream on his cock. You're dangerously close, and Zoro can feel it, too. The way your pussy pulses around his cock. The perfect vice grip of your pussy has him just as desperate. He leans down so your foreheads are touching and rocks his hips harder. You hold on to his biceps as he drills into you, trying to pour all his feelings about you into every thrust.

Your orgasm starts small in your lower stomach, and the satisfying tingly feeling spreads outwards till your hands and feet are numb. You cum hard, gushing around his cock while the squeezing of your walls drags Zoro over the edge with you. He cums inside you, filling up with every last drop of cum. After one last heavy thrust from the large man, he slowly pulls out and lies next to you.

“Y/n,” he says, voice raspy from the moaning and exhaustion. You hum in response to show him you're listening. “if you want, in the next place we dock, we can look for a proper registry office”, he says.

“Yeah, because they're gonna see two pirates with high bounties and scary nicknames and let us in,” you say sarcastically, covering the fact that you really would like that.

“I'm sure we can find at least one,” he says. You hold up your left hand, showing off your ring.

“This is enough for me, though”, you muse, admiring the jewellery.

“Agreed” Zoro lifts his left hand, and a gold wedding band sits on his finger. You hadn't even noticed because you were so busy getting ravaged by him.

“I love you,” he says. He didn't care much for love until he met you. “You're mine, forever.”

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thank you so much for reading and enjoying!!!

slip me a comment, dm or ask if you want to be added to the taglist! (specify fandom!)

likes, comments and reblogs are all greatly appreciated. I read every comment and tag and they mean a lot ♡

taglist: @priv-rose

[xoxochb]

could you write abt a daughter of hecate reader shipped with luke castellan? except that it’s before he turned evil, and it’s very very cutesy - sneaking out at 3am to meet, holding hands under the table, laughing as they spar etc etc. i don’t have anything particular in mind, but i would love to see this (also you asked for reqs sooo 🥰

-🔮

⋆·˚ ༘ * sweet peace

warnings: established relationship, pre tlt so reader stays in hermes cabin pairing: luke castellan x daughter of hecate a/n: I needed to get my mind of all this crazy shit so I decided to finish this up

i. sneaking out

you were woken from your peaceful slumber when a hand shakes your shoulder and your name repeatedly being whispered. you groan into your pillow but the culprit doesn’t stop, instead flipping you over on your back. your eyes flutter open to admittedly- your favorite sight. now not so much ‘favorite’

“what do you want, luke?”

he cracks a grin when your eyes open. “I want to go out”

your brows furrow. “go out? It’s the middle of the night!”

“exactly!”

you pout and sit up, facing luke. “nights are for sleeping. I’m not sure if you knew that”

luke’s grin turns into a smirk. you don’t know if you want to kiss him or hit him. “you’ve told me a few times”

an angry glare appears on your face. luke laughs

“I am not ‘going out’ in the middle of the night just because you want to”

“I’ll get you a few extra strawberries at breakfast”

you sigh and throw your hands up dramatically. “okay, fine. let me get a sweatshirt”

luke holds a hand out for you to take, which you do gratefully. you lean into luke, lips almost touching but you whisper an ‘I will remember that offer’ before walking away to search for one of your luke’s sweatshirts

ੈ✩‧₊˚

you arrive minutes later at your destination: a secluded area near the lake. you recognize this location as the place where you and luke first met. you had just gotten claimed by your mother, upset because she didn’t have a cabin for her demigod offsprings. luke found you skipping rocks and sat beside you as you informed him as to why you were in the disappointed mood

he listening attentively as you ranted about the situation and he spoke comforting words to help you overcome your struggles. you were thankful to have him by your side as you were still new to camp. and you later had him confess he was following you like a creep

luke guides you back against a tree, kissing you once almost eagerly before you place a hand to his chest and pull away

“if you dragged me out here just to make out I’m going to kill you and bury your body under this very ground we stand on”

“you’d miss me”

you shrug. “I’d visit you”

“then when I don’t respond?”

you frown. “then maybe I’d miss you”

luke smiles and kisses you again. once, and then twice before he pulls back. a soft smile appears on your face at luke’s look of tenderness. you cup his face and run your thumb over his scar before leaving gentle kisses along it. you feel his face heat up at the action. you pull back and luke takes this moment to bury his face in your neck, arms around your waist, yours around his shoulders

this was definitely better than sleeping

ii. breakfast

although your lack of sleep the previous night was disappointing you couldn’t help the bright smile on your face. a plate full of strawberries in front of you, an absolute dream in your eyes. luke watched lovingly as you ate each red berry, not understanding how it was humanly possible for you to eat sixteen of them in under five minutes

“I’m starting to think you like those strawberries more than me” luke jokes

“maybe. maybe not” you shrug

“should I be worried?”

you purse your lips before biting another berry. “strawberries are inanimate, therefore they can’t kiss me back”

“what’re you saying?”

“I’m saying I would chose you over strawberries. although they do come close to first”

“are you saying you love me, moonbeam?”

you sigh. “I’m saying I like kissing you”

luke frowns. “you hurt my heart”

“you should visit the infirmary then, they’ll fix you right up”

“I love you too”

luke takes your hand underneath the table intertwining them and giving it a gentle squeeze, causing a grin to form on your lips. you run your thumb over his knuckles as a reciprocation

he was definitely better than strawberries

[simpforboys]

daddy’s money

rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader

summary: rafe overhears someone being rude to you at your job. it doesn’t end well for either of you, but rafe tries to make up for it.

warnings: arguing, violence (a punch is thrown), protective!rafe, sugar daddy!rafe (?!??), fluff, reader can speak spanish (but race or anything isn't described), not proof read

these are based on my personal experiences (love working retail), just minus the punching

the ring of the bell made your ears perk up as you folded clothes.

you began working at amor, a popular clothing shop for kooks of all ages about a year ago. why they hired you, a pogue, was beyond you, but nonetheless you appreciated it.

especially since your manager, kat, loved you, as she came from rags and rising to riches.

you loved your job, being able to wear casual dresses and clothes, as half the store was beachy clothes and the other half was fancier.

“is that y/n l/n?”

you turned your head to see rafe cameron, kook prince. you hadn’t seen him in awhile, his hair now buzzed as he walked with the same prideful look.

you grinned, putting the shirt you were folding onto the table before hugging the tall man.

you and rafe had a thing, as one day he came into the shop you two immediately hit it off.

“did you find everything okay?” you asked, trying not to stare at the attractive man in front of you.

you scanned the shorts and polo shirts he was buying, noticing him smiling down at you. his hair was pushed back with a baseball cap on his head.

“i did now,” he said slyly.

“oh yeah?” you grinned, taking the security tags off the clothes. a heat rose to your cheeks as you bagged his items.

“didn’t realize they had pretty girls working here, y/n.” the man read your name tag.

“i wouldn't say that..." you trailed off, not knowing the man's name.

"rafe, rafe cameron." a cameron, huh? it had shocked you, really. the camerons were all over the news and basically ran figure eight.

"your total is going to be $259.73." you couldn't help but peek as he pulled out his wallet, his gold card practically dissing you as he put it in the pinpad.

you handed him his receipt, feeling electricity as you two accidentally brushed hands. he smiled down at you, grabbing his bag.

"i'll see you around, y/n."

"have a good day, rafe."

you watched as he exited the building, but quickly turned around after he paused. you furrowed your brows as he walked back up to the register.

"can i take you out?"

the rest of the story turned around, but you still kept in touch with rafe until he was on the ship with his father. he never texted or called you back after that.

"thanks for answering me." you said sarcastically, trying to hide your beaming smile. even though you hadn't heard from him, you still missed talking and being around him.

"sorry, mama. things got tough."

rafe's eyes wandered your body. from the way your hair was styled, your shorts that displayed your pretty legs, cropped tank top that showed some cleavage with a hawaiian shirt over it to make it seem a bit more modest, although failing to do so.

"i bet, being a cameron isn't so easy, huh?" you teased, continuing to fold the shirts you had previously ditched.

rafe didn't get to respond before kat came over, cutting off your conversation. "y/n, hay un cliente (there is a customer)."

kat was a very strong person. her family had come from mexico in search of a new life, and kat had quickly picked up the pace as she was able to open up amor. the store allowed her family to move from the cut to figure eight. she was around 5'6, brown hair that looked black in some lighting, with a mole next to her top lip that just added to herself, in a weird way.

"lo veo (i see him)." working at amor, you quickly picked up on spanish (unless you already speak it). kat eyed rafe, before nodding at him and heading back to the fitting room.

"did you find everything okay?" you questioned the man. he was around 40, dressed in a collared shirt with jeans to match. he had a rolex on his wrist, displaying his wealth.

rafe had moved to look at some of the mannequins, staying close by.

the man didn't respond, scrolling on his phone. you pursed your lips together, biting back your tongue as you continued to scan his items. his body language seemed defensive as he stood away from you.

"i like your-"

unfortunately, working customer service you had some rude customers from time to time, especially being a pogue in kook territory.

"just zip it pogue and bag my clothes. and don't try anything suspicious, either."

you were taken aback by his comment.

"don't talk to her like that." rafe had appeared next to the register, his nostrils flaring as his normal blue eyes turned dark. his pupils were blown wide as he stared at the man like he was going to kill him.

"and who are you?" the man scoffed.

"she's just doing her job, dickhead."

"if she was just doing her job, she wouldn't be tryna talk to me. now, who are you? do you even work here?" the man eyed rafe angrily, trying to appear more dominate but ultimately failed. rafe was taller and seemed to be much stronger.

"rafe-" you tried.

"rafe cameron, is that right?" the man suddenly smirked, sizing rafe up.

"i should've known. all camerons are dicks, especially your father."

you saw how rafe clenched his fist, the veins in his hand looking like they were on the verge of exploding.

"but i never expected a cameron to be protecting a pogue, or less a whore."

you gasped as rafe's knuckles made contact with the man's cheek, a cracking sound that could be heard around the store.

"rafe!" you shouted as he shook his hand, trying to not beat the man to unconsciousness.

rafe saw red as he grabbed the man by his collar, dragging him out of the store. "never fucking come back, got that?"

the man, now with a bruised cheek that appeared to have a broken bone, quickly walked off. rafe spit on the floor, walking back into the store.

kat had come running over, the noise causing her to be alerted.

"y/n, what the hell was that?" she asked, her voice thick with an accent as she was fuming.

"he was being-"

"we have a no violence policy. i told you to stay away from that cabrón (asshole)." kat swore.

"kat-" the woman wasn't letting you finish.

"you know i love you, kid. but that was unacceptable."

your lip trembled as your heart sank. you knew what her next words were going to be.

"you're fired, and i want rafe out of the store permanently."

rafe watched the scene, opening his mouth to speak but quickly stopped himself. a tear ran down your cheek as you wiped it away.

"who needs this stupid job away," you mumbled. you grabbed rafe's bicep, guiding him out of the store.

once outside, you let go of him and slightly pushed him backwards. rafe stared at you in shock, his knuckles throbbing in pain.

"what was that for?"

"you got me fired, asshole!"

"you just let dickheads speak to you like that?" rafe asked, an appalled tone in his voice as his mouth slightly hung open.

"yes! i need money, i don't care what gross rich men say."

the north carolina heat radiated off of you two, seagulls squawking as they flew above.

"y/n-" he went to grab your hands but you pulled away.

"i don't have daddy's money to support me, rafe. you just cost me my entire income and home."

your words were harsh as you stared directly into his eyes, a flame ignited in you that he lit.

"listen, okay. i can take care of you."

rafe was trying to remain calm, not wanting to scare you away from him if he raised his voice too much.

"oh, yeah? how?"

"c'mon." rafe took you down to where barry was sitting in rafe's car. the man got out as he saw you and rafe approach, the tension thick.

"long time, y/n." barry nodded his head at you, which you pursed your lips in response and watched as rafe popped the trunk.

inside were cases as rafe opened one, shiny gold beaming off the sun to peek at you. your stomach dropped, looking between rafe and barry who had huge smirks on their faces.

"how did you-"

rafe carefully handed you a piece of gold, watching as you inspected it.

"each one is worth at least 20 grand. we're set for life with these, baby."

you let out a surprised laugh, any feel of anger going away from the sight of all the cases filled with your new riches.

"no bullshit, right?"

"100 percent real, honey. rafe melted it down himself."

rafe gave barry a death glare from the nickname he called you.

"how- where- you know what, never mind. i don't care. you guys are fucking loaded."

"we're loaded, y/n." rafe put his arm around you, bringing you into a side hug as you smelt his dior sauvage cologne.

you grinned, feeling rafe press a kiss to your temple as you hugged him tightly. you ran your hand up and down his muscular back as his hand went down to your lower back.

"so.... are you my sugar daddies?" you joked. barry laughed as rafe rolled his eyes.

"c'mon, country club. we got clients to see."

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Hollywood Babylon | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, heights

Word Count: 4424

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Dean sat with his arm draped around your shoulders on the back of a trolley tour of Warner Brothers studios. Dean was ecstatic, whispering to you about all of his favorite 80s horror movies that had been filmed there, and you smiled fondly at his ramblings.

Sam turned to you and his brother, seemingly uncomfortable, and hopped off the trolley. “Come on,” he said.

“Let’s finish the tour!” Dean begged, but Sam was already walking away. With an eye roll from the older brother, you and Dean hopped off as well to follow Sam around the lot.

Dean excitedly exclaimed, “Guys, check it out, it's Matt Damon!”

“Dee, I don’t think that’s Matt Damon,” you laughed.

“No, it is,” he argued, face dropping.

“Well, Matt Damon just picked up a broom and started sweeping,” Sam deadpanned.

Dean refused to back down. “Yeah, well, he's probably researching a role or something.”

“Ah, I don't think so.”

You noticed a sign pointing to the right. “Hey, this way, I think Stage 9 is over here.”

“Come on, let's keep going this way,” Dean pleaded, walking forward.

Sam shook his head. “No, come on, we've gotta work. Dude, you wanted to come to LA.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, for a vacation. I mean, swimming pools and movie stars! Not to work.”

“This seem like swimming pool weather to you, Dean? I mean, it's practically Canadian,” Sam scoffed.

“Yeah.” Dean seemed to hesitate before starting the next part of his sentence. “I just figured that, you know, after everything that happened with... Madison, y-you could use a little R-and-R, that's all.”

“Well, maybe I wanna work, Dean. Maybe it keeps my mind off things,” Sam grumbled.

“Oh-kay,” you cut in before the boys could become entrenched in a more intense argument. “So, this crew guy, he died on set?”

“Yeah, uh, rumors spreading like wildfire online,” the brunet responded. “They're saying the set's haunted.”

“Like ‘Poltergeist’?” Dean questioned.

Sam shrugged. “Could be a poltergeist.”

“No, no no,” the older brother said. “Like, the movie ‘Poltergeist’.”

Sam still looked confused.

“You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you?” Dean scoffed.

You giggled. “Set of ‘Poltergeist’ was supposedly cursed. They used real human bones as props, and like, at least three of the actors died in it.”

“Well, yeah, it might be something like that,” Sam nodded.

“Alright, so this crew guy—” Dean began, “what's his name?”

“Frank Jaffey.”

“Frank Jaffey…” you considered. “He got a death certificate or a coroner's report or anything?”

“Well, no,” the younger Winchester started, “but, uh, it's LA, you know? It might not even be his real name. But the girl who found him; she said she saw something— a vanishing figure.”

“What's the girl's name?” you asked.

Sam thought for a second. “Uh, Tara Benchley?”

Dean began to grin widely. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Tara Benchley? From ‘Fear dot Com’ and ‘Ghost Ship’, Tara Benchley? Dude, why didn't you say so?”

You sent a warning glare at him. “Curb your enthusiasm, Dean.”

He shrank under your glance. “Sorry. I’m just— I’m a fan of her work. It’s very good.”

Your lopsided smile returned to your face and you shook your head at his antics, following him to Stage 9.

Once inside, you noticed a man in a sharp, fitted tuxedo with an earpiece talking to another man wearing a headset around his neck. There was another holding a thick packet of papers; assumedly a script.

The man in the fitted tuxedo seemed to notice you and snapped his fingers in your direction. “Uh, excuse me, Blue Sweater Girl?”

You pointed to yourself quizzically, suddenly remembering the oversized blue sweater swallowing your small frame whole. 

“Yeah, you. Come here,” he ordered.

You briefly looked to the boys before heading toward the man.

“Can you get me a smoothie from Kraft?” he asked.

“Uh…” you stumbled.

The man scoffed. “You are a P.A.? This is what you do?”

You shook your head suddenly, figuring out what character you were supposed to be playing to infiltrate the set. “Yeah, sorry. I’m new. One smoothie comin’ right up.”

You turned on your heels with the boys hot on them.

“What's a P.A.?” Dean whispered.

“I think they're kind of like slaves,” Sam commented.

***

Hours later, the real crew was hard at work several scenes deep in their shoot for the day. You had swept the place for EMF, finding nothing and beginning to get slightly frustrated.

You met up with Sam and Dean at the Kraft services table.

“So?” you asked the brothers, shoving your hands in the pockets of your jeans.

“No EMF anywhere,” Dean said.

“Same here,” you nodded.

Sam snorted, “Great. So, what do you think?”

“Well, I think being a P.A. sucks. But—” Dean picked up a tiny sandwich, “the food these people get, are you kidding me? I mean look at these things. They're like miniature Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. They're delicious.”

He held one of them out to you, and you took it happily. “Thanks,” you grinned.

Dean took a huge bite of his own sandwich. “What'd you find out about the dead crew guy?”

“Frank Jaffey was just filling in for the day,” you said. “Nobody knew him or where he lived or anything.”

“Oh, great. So you found out about as much as I did,” Dean remarked. “Sam?”

“I did dig up some stuff about Stage 9's history.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Four people died messy here over the past eighty years. Two suicides and two fatal accidents.”

“Awesome. So any one of them could be a vengeful spirit,” you commented.

“Yeah. We've just gotta narrow it down more,” Sam nodded. 

Dean’s eyes followed Tara Benchley as she walked onto set. “I'll get right on that.” He walked off, leaving you fuming.

You trusted Dean, but you didn’t trust his downstairs brain. And the fact that the two of you weren’t officially together bothered you in situations like this. You eyed him intensely with your arms folded, every once in a while bringing a hand to your mouth to chomp on your mini sandwich.

“Cool it, (Y/N),” Sam told you. 

“I’m so cool,” you grumbled.

He made a bitch-face at you. “Uh-huh.”

You rolled your eyes. You stood by Sam, the both of you just trying to stick as close to the wall as possible for a few minutes. Then, Dean came back up to you. “I know who our mystery man is. And he’s not dead,” Dean said.

***

You then went to the home of Gerard St. James and confirmed that he was, in fact, the man who had posed as Frank Jaffey for the day. The whole thing was designed by the producers to stir up press for the movie, and it worked. In fact, you were planning to leave town chalking the whole thing up to a hoax when the man in the tailored suit who’d called you “Blue Sweater Girl” wound up dead; dropping into a scene hanging from his neck. 

And so, you were back on set. You gave a lopsided smile at the sight of Dean so thoroughly enjoying himself; donning an equipment belt with a headset attached and snacking on as many sandwiches as he could get his hands on. 

You noticed a P.A. whose name you learned was Walter storming off set and followed him. “Walter!” you called, trying to catch up to him.

“Leave me alone,” the short man grumbled, but you kept quickening your pace until you were by his side.

“What happened back there?” you asked.

“They’re screwing with the movie,” he replied.

“How so?”

He scoffed. “Didn’t you hear them? They keep adding explainers about how the ghosts can hear the summonings from hell or how the ghosts couldn’t possibly be afraid of salt,” he mocked the director.

“What’s got you so fired up, though?” you pushed. You reached the edge of the studio lot near the parking lot. “I mean, ghosts aren’t real, so, what difference does it make?”

He laughed humorlessly. “ ‘What difference does it’—” he cut himself off. “Look, you wouldn’t get it. Just— leave me alone.” He stormed off toward a green Jeep and slammed the door once inside it.

Perplexed, you made your way back onto the set. You took in the various actors and crew members milling about, reading over sides, setting up lights, mingling in the corners of the soundstage— and for a moment, you wished you could actually work on a set like this. 

Dean was easy to find; frequently barking commands and responses into his headset, and Sam never far from him. That poor kid was so far out of his element. 

“Hey, sweetheart, whatcha got?” Dean asked you as you approached.

That nickname still had a devastating effect on you. “Walter’s a little testy for a P.A. What you got?”

“Uh, not much. Other than EMF readings up the wazoo. For some reason, it's a legit haunting now,” he said. “Oh, and some freaky static feedback on the scenes.”

“Well,” you began. “Who’s the ghost? What’s it want?”

***

After reviewing one of the tapes Dean had snagged from one of his new crew-member friends, you discovered an apparition in the corner of the room just as Brad, the man who died, had fallen through the roof. Sam had somehow recognized her.

“Here. Check this out,” Sam said, putting a piece of paper between you and Dean who sat across the table from him.

“Yeah, go for Ozzy,” Dean spoke into his headset. “No, I don't have a 20 on Tara, I think she's 10-100… Okay, copy that. “ Dean looked back to Sam as you skimmed over the article he’d given you. “I'm sorry, what were you saying?”

Sam shook his head in exasperation, and you took the opportunity to explain what was happening to Dean. “Elise Drummond,” you relayed. “Kind of a rising star back in the thirties. Had an affair with a studio exec. Piece of shit kinda left her in the dust when he was done with her, and she hung herself from Stage 9’s rafters; right into a scene they were shooting.”

“Just like our man, Brad. So, what, she's got it in for the studio brass?” Dean questioned.

“Possibly,” Sam shrugged. “I mean, it's a motive. And Brad's death matches hers exactly.”

“We're digging tonight, aren't we?” Dean sighed.

***

Later that evening, you walked beside Sam into the Hollywood Forever Cemetery to dig up Elise Drummond’s grave. 

“Which way?” Sam asked his brother, who walked ahead of you holding a map.

“Uh... over here,” he replied, continuing ahead. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” 

The older brother gestured to a memorial for Humpty Dumpty with a wide grin.

You shook your head, suppressing an amused sigh. “You’re a freak, dude,” you jested. “Kid in a candy store over a bunch of dead celebrities.”

“You just don’t get it, sweetheart,” Dean responded. “Hey, we've gotta go check out Johnny Ramone's grave when we're done here.”

“You wanna dig him up, too?” Sam deadpanned.

“Bite your tongue, heathen!” He passed another memorial, effectively distracting him from his younger brother’s blasphemy. “Oh, that's cool.”

“Focus, Pinky,” you said, nudging Dean’s shoulder. 

“Hey, why am I Pinky?” he protested.

“ ‘Cause Sam’s clearly Brain,” you replied simply. 

“So, what does that make you? Pharfignewton?” Dean chuckled.

“Oh, hell no. I’m Dot!” you protested.

“What, we’re doing a crossover episode?”

“Duh. You guys are the freaky lab rats. Not me. I’m flippin’ adorable,” you sassed.

Dean smiled delightedly at you. 

“Guys, please,” Sam huffed, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. “What I don't get is why now? I mean, after seventy-five years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know? Why this movie?”

“Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick,” Dean shrugged.

The brunet snorted. “Come on, is it really that scary?” 

“Here we go,” you announced upon reaching Elise’s headstone. 

“Yahtzee,” Dean remarked and immediately set to work digging.

***

You returned to the trailer Dean had scored to get a few hours of sleep after exhuming and torching the corpse of Elise Drummond. There was a pullout couch in the trailer as well as a single queen bed, and you and Dean agreed to share the bed. Sam clearly had questions, and you knew you would have to answer them in the morning.

“This is fuckin’ awesome, man,” Dean grinned, shrugging off his jacket and boots. “I feel like a movie star.”

You giggled. “Did you ever wanna be one when you were growing up?”

“Meh, I wanted to be a rockstar more,” he replied. “You got first shower.”

“Thanks.”

When both of you had showered and readied for bed, Dean slipped under the covers beside you. “Oh, holy crap, this is so much comfier than a motel.”

“Yeah, probably because the mattress is more than an inch thick,” you snorted, settling into Dean’s side. You laid against him in silence for a moment, before a question that had been plaguing you escaped. “Hey, Dean?”

He hummed in response.

“Do you— Do you have a… thing for Tara?” you asked.

He shifted to look down at you. “What?”

“I mean, I know you and I haven’t really… talked about anything yet…” you began to ramble, “but if you wanted to, y’know, go there with her— I just— it’d really upset me, is all.”

“(Y/N), if I wanted Tara that bad, do you think I’d have jumped at the chance to share a bed with you?” he asked earnestly.

“Well, I don’t know—”

“What, am I that much of a man whore?” he questioned before suddenly reconsidering. “Don’t answer that.”

You snorted. You paused for another moment, hesitant to ask your next question. “Would you— Would you ever wanna— I don’t know, be�� more than just… this?”

Dean tilted your chin up with his finger. He leaned into you, kissing you gently, giving you all the answers you needed. “Fuck, yes,” he said against your lips. 

***

The next morning, you awoke to sirens blaring outside the trailer. You jerked against Dean, waking him up, and he immediately straightened up and pulled you into his side protectively. He relaxed when he realized it was just a siren. However, that posed a more troubling question: why was there a siren outside your trailer at seven in the morning?

You quickly got dressed and met Sam at the door; heading down to see what the commotion was about. Sam went to investigate the crime scene as Dean went to talk to the friends he’d made on the set. 

You milled about, simply observing. You noted Tara looking visibly upset as she stood with her costars; clearly having just woken up. People holding clipboards and headsets talked in hush voices, rushing from one group of crew members to another. You saw the director talking to a policeman, a body bag being rolled into an ambulance, and a nervous P.A. huddling with her friend a distance away from the scene. You’d seen all of these people before at least once or twice, and you assumed the sirens had to have woken everyone up. At least, everyone that was staying on the set and didn’t have homes nearby. Sam came back over to you.

“Run-in with a giant fan,” he said in a hushed voice. “Same thing happened to an electrician back in '66, a guy named Billy Beard.”

“What the hell, dude?” you questioned.

“I don't know. Doesn't seem like Elise this time, either. It's not her M.O.”

“No, no way. Couldn’t be her. We deep fried her already. But it’s weird; these things don’t normally tag-team,” you thought aloud.

The director suddenly stood on the hood of his car. “Everybody! Gather around, okay! I've got an announcement to make.” He handed his keys to the P.A. who’d been nervously chewing her nails in the corner with her friend before addressing the group again. Dean walked calmly over to you at that moment.

“Everyone! Huddle in!” the director called. “In light of Jay's accident last night, and in cooperation with the authorities, we're shutting down production for a few days. I know, I know. Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. We've had a few setbacks this week. But we all know what Jay and Brad wanted more than anything. And that was to see Hell Hazers 2: The Reckoning on screens all across America! Now, we owe it to them to go on, and to pull together and make this damn movie, huh?”

The crowd before you cheered and applauded.

“But— but, but, but not today. Go home. Someone will call you,” the director finished.

You snickered, turning to head back to your trailer.

“Any chance you got more copies of those dailies?” you asked Dean.

***

Later that day, you were barely able to keep your eyes glued to the screen in front of you. While watching the B-roll of the movie was fun, the movie itself was awfully boring and cheesy. You just wanted a ghost to jump out at you already, instead of needing to sift through hours of footage while Dean and Sam were out researching.

A pretty blonde actress interrupted Tara’s character as she began to read in Latin from a book. 

Dean and Sam reentered the trailer.

“Hey,” Sam said.

“Hey,” you replied. “Anything?”

“Billy Beard was cremated,” Sam informed you.

“Perfect,” you deadpanned.

“Any more ghost cameos in the dailies?” Dean asked.

“Not in the first six hours,” you sighed, sitting back on the couch and running a hand through your hair. “Y’know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie 'cause they think it sucks. 'Cause, I mean, it kinda does.”

Suddenly, something caught your attention in Tara’s awful Latin pronunciation. You rewound the tape a little bit, listening closely. “Holy shit, guys,” you said, pausing the tape. “That’s the real deal. A real life necromantic summoning ritual.”

Sam looked at you confused. “What the hell is that doing in a Hollywood movie?”

“Beats the shit outta me,” you scoffed. You paused a moment. “Wait, Walter.”

“What about him?” Dean asked.

“He was all bent outta shape about them changing the ‘real’ ghost stuff. Like the salt, or that bit they added in about the ghosts having super hearing to be able to hear the Latin chanting from hell,” you said.

“Yeah, but he’s a P.A. What does he have to do with any of this?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, I think she’s got a point,” Sam chimed in. “What if Walter wrote the script, and he’s the reason this is all happening.”

“Dean, do you remember what your P.A. friends said the writer’s name was?” you asked.

*** You and the brothers tried your best not to weird Marty, the writer of the movie, out too terribly much as you pried into the history of the writing. He ended up confirming your theory; Walter had written the original script. You ended up getting copies of the original screenplay from Marty and brought it back to the trailer you were squatting in. 

“Lord of the Dead” was the title on the cover page.

“Should've kept Walter's original script. It's actually pretty good,” Dean noted.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “And it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration, like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, like kill people,” Dean realized.

“I’m thinkin’ he got pissed they tinkled in his cheerios and started using black magic to get back at these people for wrecking his movie,” you chimed in.

“Motive and means,” Sam nodded.

“It's worth checking out,” the older brother shrugged.

As night fell, you exited the trailer and were going to try and find Walter at his home address. However, when you reached the parking lot, you noticed that distinctive army-green Jeep. “Wait, that’s Walter’s car,” you told the brothers. It was one of the only cars in the lot aside from the Impala. Immediately, the three of you ran back to Stage 9 to see if you could catch Walter in the act of trying to hurt someone else.

Thankfully, you made it to the studio just in time. You could hear a man screaming and a fan loudly blowing, and you ran toward the sound with your shotgun raised. Dean came up behind Marty and shot at the ghost of Billy Beard, effectively making him disappear. Sam clicked off the fan, and you followed Walter up to the rafters.

“You are one hell of a P.A.,” you heard Marty telling Dean as you climbed. 

“What are you doing?” Walter asked you, still a bit of a distance above you.

“Uh, the fuck are you doing, dude?” you questioned. “Raising spirits from the dead? Makin’ ���em murder for you? Do you have a death wish?”

“You don’t understand,” Walter shook his head.

“You’re right,” you said. “I don’t.” 

You began to charge him, but he held his hands up. “Just... wait, look,” the man pleaded. “You put your heart and soul into something, years of hard work. It's years, and then they take it! And they crap all over it! And then— and then they want you to smile and say, ‘Thank you’.”

“Listen, I get it, man,” you began, “I know that feels shitty. But this is in no way, shape, or form the answer.”

“Look,” Walter scoffed. “I've got nothing against you, sweetness.” You cringed at the nickname as he continued talking. “You're not part of this. Just please, please, just leave. But Martin's gotta stay.”

“Sorry, can't do that,” Dean called up to you. “It's not that we like him or anything, it's… just a matter of principle.”

“Then I'm sorry, too.” Walter picked up the talisman around his neck and began to mutter in Latin. The set began shaking, and you grabbed the railings on either side of you to steady yourself. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean called up to you. 

Suddenly, a ghost with a horribly mangled face appeared in front of you, knocking you to the floor. You aimed your shotgun and fired, making him disappear. When you looked behind where the apparition had stood, Walter was gone. 

“Dammit!” you cursed. You then spotted him sprinting across a rafter in the distance. The quickest way to him was going to be running along a large steel pipe next to you that led straight from your platform to his. 

“(Y/N), are you fucking crazy?!” Dean exclaimed as you began to sprint across the pipe, trying not to be too careful that you slowed yourself down while simultaneously trying not to fall to your death.

“Maybe!” you called back, leaping off the pipe and clutching the railing of the rafter. You pulled yourself over the top of it, boots landing firmly on the mesh, steel floor. 

You saw Walter chanting in the back corner of the rafters and ran at him; he hadn’t noticed you til you were quite literally standing on top of him. You had him completely cornered.

“It’s over, Walter,” you told him harshly. “Give it to me.”

Walter threw the talisman to the ground at your feet, shattering it completely. “There! Okay, now no one can have it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I wouldn't have done that if I were you.”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “And why not?”

“Because you just freed them. Ain’t nothin’ I can do to help you now,” you said. “You brought ‘em back and forced them to murder. They're not gonna be very happy with you.” 

The rafters below you suddenly creaked and separated from the wall, Walter screaming as he fell to the ground below. You screamed, hanging onto the railing for dear life as it hung loosely from where the platform was connected on its other end.

“(Y/N)!” the brothers called.

Your feet swung limply below you as you searched for something— anything— to grab onto and keep you from suffering the same fate as Walter. You noticed a thick cable attached to one of the strings of lights hanging down into the scene below and swung yourself over to it; latching on the way a fireman would grip a fire pole. You let go just enough to slide all the way down, letting go when you were no more than five feet from the ground. You rolled over your shoulder before you hit the floor and undoubtedly broke a bone, having learned that it was best not to land on your feet in these situations.

Dean, Sam, and Marty looked down at you in shock.

“What?” you breathed out. “Nobody’s gonna help me up?”

Dean and Sam immediately outstretched a hand each to help you off the floor.

“Dude, how are you not dead?” Sam questioned. 

“Yeah, and since when are you chick-Ethan-Hunt?” Dean asked.

You shrugged. “My dad made sure I was agile enough to do shit like that. Still didn’t think I was gonna survive that.”

Sam and Dean chuckled, and you started heading out of the studio. “Shit, probably screwed up my arm, though,” you hissed, rotating the shoulder you'd used to tumble set over when you hit the ground.

“Hey, if that’s the worst injury you have after all that, let’s be thankful,” Sam commented.

Marty followed a bit behind, seeming a bit in shock. “Uh, guys?” he called.

The three of you turned.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” you replied. “Seriously. To anyone. Ever.”

He nodded, seeming slightly afraid of you. 

*** You and the brothers decided to stick around for just a few more days to enjoy yourselves after everything that happened. You watched as Tara’s co-star, just as the brothers told you Marty had, directed Tara where to shoot by seeing where the ghosts were in the phone’s camera. 

“You find out there's an afterlife, and this is what you do with it?” Sam snorted at Marty who was standing nearby.

He looked up from his cell phone, grinning. “I needed a little jazz on the page.”

You bid your goodbyes to the people you’d “worked” with that past week and walked toward the Impala with Dean’s arm around your shoulders. You laced your fingers with his. 

Dean grabbed a sandwich with his free hand, and the three of you walked toward a painted sunset backdrop crew members were rolling away. “God, I love this town,” he chuckled, making you and Sam laugh.

The backdrop before you moved to reveal a beautiful sunset over the Hollywood Hills, bathing you in the sun’s glow. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[izzabela]

Hi there! Could write different scenarios of the Lin Kuei brothers who are watching a TV show with their significant other for the first time and a sensual scene comes on and they don't know how to respond between embarrassed and slightly turned on but trying to conceal it (yet failing to lol), and the reader notices it and finds it amusing and teasing them about it? 🤭

Is This Media? - Lin Kuei Trio x GN!reader (scenario fic & modern au)

in which Tomas, Kuai Liang, and Bi Han react to the shows you watch (Bridgerton S2-3 & Queen Charlotte spoilers!)

a/n: as a child, my parents often covered my eyes during kiss scenes or any romance, so I have some ideas on how they'd react

ship[s]: tomas, kuai liang, bi han x gn!reader (scenario fic)

warning(s): suggestive end(s)

Bi Han

Rotting is only for food, plants, and dead animals.

So the fact that Bi Han managed to waste a day on the couch, with you, wrapped in fluffy blankets, with chips on both side of you, and watching Bridgerton, was an incredible feat in it of itself.

Although it was your day off, Bi Han decided to end his own day early, handing off his responsibilities to his brothers back at the office. He had full faith in them, and he missed you (on the DL though). He felt as if he didn't spend enough time with you, so home he went.

He was hoping to hit the gym with you, walk around the park, even go out to those café's you enjoyed. However, when he found you wrapped up like a little babushka with the blanket over your head and chips in your mouth, he knew you had planned something out for the both of you.

So now, he lays next to you as you watch the latest season of Bridgerton, season three with Penelope and Colin. Truth be told, you were watching because Anthony and Kate were making huge cameos, but the season turned out to be decent in your eyes. Bi Han, on the other hand, complained about every little thing.

"The costumes aren't historically accurate," he grumbled at one scene, biting his chip angrily.

"Symbolism seems to be a petty scapegoat in these kinds of shows" he groaned at another scene, one with Penelope writing some stuff down. "I mean, her name is 'Pen' and she holds a quill- how obvious does it get?!"

Seriously, he reminded you of your dad when watching these types of shows.

Now it came to the turning point of the romance, and both characters managed to be alone together. The screen was filled with tension, and the fact both characters are so close, a millimeter from touching, killed you.

"Kiss! Come on, Colin, don't flake now!" you squealed, gripping onto Bi Han's hand as your wishes came true.

While you were giggling your feet like a school girl who just got asked out, Bi Han was quiet and still. His eyes remained glued on the screen, watching as both characters explored one another (to the length they were allowed to go for the rating).

He could feel his pants and underwear suddenly becoming tight, his body growing just a degree warmer, and a warm flush grow on his cheeks and ears. He coughs, trying to distract himself, then reaches for your water bottle on the coffee table in front of you.

You gasp at the betrayal, watching him down the water fast. Like a parched athlete, he's finally done and wipes his mouth after one last gulp. You may have laughed at first, but when you see him shift his pants from under the blanket, the full picture is drawn.

Your eyes catch how his eyes don't meet yours, the pink on his ears and cheeks, even the way he's breathing. He's covering his face and turning away, hoping you leave him alone.

"L-let us continue!" he huffs as he sits back down, his legs bent in a way so the blanket doesn't land on his crotch area.

You turn to him with a sly brow and a smirk, scooting closer to him as you tease your boyfriend.

"Are you... nervous dear?" You poke his cheek as he tries to play it off. "Pen and Colin's scene got you acting all crazy?"

"Don't fill your head with delusion," Bi Han says gruffly, turning away like a toddler who got caught stealing cookies. You just laugh as you keep making fun of him, teasing him for his reactions to Hollywood magic.

You coo and place your hand under his cheek, turning it gently to pepper his face in kisses as an apology for "being mean". As you placed kisses on his forehead, nose, and eyelids, he catches your lips in his as he shoves his tongue in the tavern of your mouth. His hand cups your cheek, and you dig your hands into his hair.

When you finally pull away, you boop his nose and giggle, "Still embarrassed?" Bi Han just scoffs, topping you on the couchas he cages you with his arms.

Bi Han throws the blanket away from his body, lifting his shirt over his head to reveal his firm body.

"We'll see who's embarrassed after this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuai Liang

You cuddled in close to Kuai Liang as you two watched an episode of Bridgerton season two. In order for you to prepare for season three, you decided to rewatch the other two seasons (plus Queen Charolette) to remind yourself where you were in the series.

Kuai Liang had just finished taking a shower, since he came home from work at the office with his brothers. He wasn't supposed to be seated here, his services were needed to make dinner, but here he was.

You giggled as you fed yourself popcorn from the huge bowl that sat in between your left leg and Kuai's right leg. While you were enjoying the show, Kuai Liang sat there an scrutinized every detail of the show.

You first watched the show by yourself, as Kuai Liang was busy doing his own thing. However, during this rewatch marathon of yours, he began to watch the show. It started with him standing from the kitchen, arms crossed as he examined everything in the show.

He knew he and his brothers acted similarly, but even twins are not a hundred percent the same (they aren't twins, just making a comparison). Unlike Bi Han, who was vocal on the cheesiness of the show, Kuai Liang remained silent and reserved. He wasn't completely emotionless, as he laughed during some parts that he found amusing.

What he didn't laugh at, though, was the raunchy scene between Kate and Anthony.

You watch the scene with wide and intense eyes, the characters leaving the ballroom only to meet under the gazebo of the Bridgerton backyard. The scene is filled with forbidden love, secrets, and the undying need to touch one another.

"I don't understand, they were dancing so well together, why are they mad?" He asks, genuinely perplexed at the change-up of the actors' feelings.

Ah, you forgot he didn't understand subtle acting. And the fact he asks many questions during these kinds of shows.

You squeal, gripping onto Kuai Liang's bicep as you explain the scene to him.

"Anthony is supposed to be hitting it off with Kate's little sister, but he doesn't like her like that. They danced together like that because Kate was trying to leave for India, to get away from him and his love..."

The scene suddenly changes, and both actors are all over each other as they dive into one another's mouths. The erotic sounds of their moans and groans fills the surround system of the T.V., and Kuai Liang finds himself uncomfortable at the sudden display of... hefty affection.

You scream, practically bursting his eardrum, but he finds it enjoyable because you're so excited.

Did he find the show predictable and boring? Yes.

Did he love you in your entirety? Even more yes.

And that trumps every other emotion he could ever feel towards this show.

As the characters kiss, Kuai just sits in contemplation at the media in front of him. Since when did media get to this point? He thinks, adjusting himself in his seat.

As much as he tries to remain calm and collected, his neck is slightly pink and warm to the touch. His palms also begin to sweat buckets, and you can see him rub his hands up and down his legs as he tries to wipe the signs of nervousness away.

You're gripping onto his bicep as you watch Kate and Anthony go at it like starving wolves, however his arm is a bit wet. You look up at your boyfriend and see his nervous face.

Cheeky ideas fill your mind as you watch Kuai Liang's furrowed brow, the sweat that crawling down his face, and his straight and pursed lips. You giggle as you look between the growing sensuality of the scene and Kuai Liang, finally piecing the puzzle together.

He was flushed, and all due to Hollywood screenwriting. Adorable.

You go snd sit on his lap, using your arm to wipe the sweat on his forehead (and using this opportunity). You chuckle at his preteen reaction to your show, squishing his cheeks as you tease him. He rolls his eyes as a joke, placing his hands on your hips to keep you steady.

"Hot and bothered over scripted sets?" you giggle some more. "The mighty Kuai Liang, downed by a simple love scene!"

Kuai Liang pulls you closer with one arm, and his other crawls to the back of your head as your nose and his almost touch. In his lap, you can feel the growing muscle in his crotch area, and suddenly you're reminded of your position in all of this.

You gulp nervously, and Kuai Liang plants a loving kiss on your forehead.

"We'll see who's high and mighty after this scene."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tomas

Tomas doesn't remember watching a movie in his youth.

Before his family passed, movies were considered a luxury due to their economic status. Although adopted into a new family, movies were not really in the picture, either, since he was raised into supporting Bi Han alongside Kuai Liang.

It was through you he saw the beauty in movies, the cheesiness of Hollywood, and the talent of amazing screenwriters.

Through you, he saw horrific tales of slasher films, dramas of soap operas, even Hallmark. With more time, he discovered streaming shows thanks to your endless subscriptions.

He also realized how romance was your go-to genre, and how you were obsessed with Bridgerton at the very moment.

Was he just as attached as you? Yes.

He found the spin off much more endearing, since the chemistry between both actors felt so real. The script was amazing, not to mention he cried a bit.

Right now, you two were watching the spin off, Queen Charlotte, as it was the latest release before season 3.

You two stayed in your bedroom, as there was a TV inside. Cuddled close, you two had an assortment of snacks on top of a towel in between both of you.

You watched with a slack jaw and a palm full of cookies as the scene where the king and queen are in front of a fire, only in pajamas, and flirting heavily.

"Oh my goodness," you gasp as you turn to Tomas, who's a bit confused.

"What, my dear?" he asks, quirked brow and a perplexed face.

"It's the 'I'm good with buttons' scene!" you exclaim and shove a cookie in your mouth.

Tomas turns back to the screen and watches how the king slowly walks up to the queen, says the line, and slowly kisses her.

Cutely, Tomas raises his arms up to hide behind them, only peeking through his fingers to check. As he checks, the scene grows more and more haughty, and so does he.

Tomas is pink from neck to forehead, his hands covered his face completely, and he's got a raging boner in his pants. It wasn't the actress, no (though she is beautiful), it was the scene itself.

I mean, when did media do this?

As Tomas coughs to try and cool himself down, shifting in his seat, your head is turned to his attention. It's so obvious what he's trying to hide, and he isn't doing a good job either.

You scoot closer to him, nudging him with your elbow as you tease him.

"How many times have we watched movies like this, and you still get so flustered!" you tease him and he just groans as he tries to play it cool.

"Darling please," he whines as he turns away. "It's just so... explicit!"

You laugh as you kiss his hand that covers his face, "Come on, honey, it isn't that bad."

You pry his fingers off until his cute pink face in view. You giggle as you kiss his nose, then his cheek, settling into his lap as you do so.

You can feel his rock hard member locked away behind is pants, and both of you are trapped in an air of lust and wanting.

Tomas voices his wanting, using his newfound skills from the show.

"I'm just as good with button, if you want to test my skills."

=====================

EASY MONEY

guys my inbox is getting full i love this

okay see yall in the next fic!

[ornii]

Bitterly Beautiful: Family Ties

Ireland

(Y/n) and Wednesday, a love story as old as time. Winter break had finally reached Nevermore and (Y/n) made a suggestion, to visit Ireland and for his bride to meet his family. Wednesday being the old fashion woman she is, she couldn’t say no.

A massive old ship sailed across the sea, being piloted by not humans but beings that ceased to exist, skeletons. All remains of pirates once plundering the seas for their fill now in service to the Healy name. Wednesday found this most fascinating, her eyes dance along the deck of the ship as she stands with (Y/n), he points to the Captian moving the ship with the wheel.

“You see the Captian and his crew died to a kraken if you could believe it. Tore their ship from the sea to the bottom of the ocean.” He explained, and Wednesday stared at their moving bones, flesh barely visible under the ragged clothes. “Fascinating.. Rigor mortis obviously has set in but their bodies seem to reject the stiffness.”

“Is that all you got from my story?” He replied.

“It’s all that I care to listen to.” She responded. A small laugh came from (Y/n). “I love you too Wednesday.” He steps forward with his cane and she follows. “My family is a bit more.. bombastic than yours.” He started, “So it might be a bit.. uncomfortable at first but they mean well..”

“As long as they don’t touch me, all will be well.” Her response was expected, but not particularly hated either. (Y/n) inhaled and turned around to the front of the ship.

“We’re here, the Rock of Cashel.” Wednesday turned as well, her eyes gazing upon a massive castle of limestone and rock. “It’s.. impressive.” She said, and he stepped up next to her. “Nice Family heirloom which I’ll eventually take over, I can give you the tour when we dock.. but I think my family wants to at least say hello because you recluse yourself.” He replied. Wednesday slightly pouts but goes with it. Docking at the waters near the castle, now more monsters. Oddly short human like people. They carted and carried their bags and belongings into the castle as (Y/n) and Wednesday sit and ride carriage upwards to the castle.

“Leprechauns?” She asked.

“Nope, Puca. Little known monsters here.” He responded, “They can transform into animals, sly little things.” (Y/n) leaned forward and looked in the direction of Wednesday.

“Admittedly, I didn’t expect you to say yes to visiting my family. Especially since it’s in a castle in a completely different continent.” He cracked a smile, but Wednesday kept a calm demeanor. “You handled my family exceptionally well, even with their.. issues. It’s only fair that I do the same for you.” She explained, she could see the gears turning in (Y/n)’s head as she says this, something was hidden under his smile but he kept it.

The duo arrive at the gate of the castle, which slowly opens the heavy wooden doors. The large hefty foyer looks right out of the 13th century. Paintings of battles of gods and men, marble statues of men and women chiseled. Tapestry of the Bloodline in perfect etching detail, all of it truly felt otherworldly.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” He said, Wednesday’s eyes scanned along the walls. “Admittedly it is.. do you have torture chamber as well?”

“That’s…” he started to speak but the sudden boom of footsteps approaching halted his speech, Wednesday and (Y/n) turned to the origin of the sound, the deep dark hallway which was lit barely but the encroaching flames of torches, Wednesday watches as a massive Fomorian titan stormed out of the hall. She took a step back and was prepared to run or fight. She looks to (Y/n) who wasn’t particularly changed by the presence.

“(Y/n) if you couldn’t hear there’s a towering monster before us!” She gripped his wrist and he tilts his head in her direction.

“I know, and it isn’t funny Aunt.” He said, the monster groans and pouts.

“I just wanted to see if the lass was as ice cold as you always said she was.” The monsters voice was booming, but also a feminine tone. Her body began to transform, bones shrinking, skin changing and hair growing, Wednesday was baffled and somehow amazed to watch the human body transform. A burly woman stood before her, hefty red hair and a strong jawline but a porcelain face. Her dress was a deep blue and hefty dress with a wolf fur coat around the neckline.

“Pale little thing isn’t she?” The woman leaned in, her lively emerald green eyes collided with Wednesdays cold and emotionally dead dark black eyes. “She isn’t pale she’s just.. you know.” (Y/n) mumbled, the woman offers a firm handshake, taking Wednesdays had without her say and shaking it strongly, Wednesday was taken aback by her terrifyingly firm grasp but soft skin. “Right, no sunlight.” Wednesday stepped back to avoid being hugged and crushed by the woman. “Wednesday, this is Aunt Dian.” (Y/n) steps in between them.

Wednesday stared at the woman, not able to form an accurate response to what she’s seeing. “Yes.. indeed.” Wednesday replied, and Dian turned around, “Alright! Now to your chambers, and you two won’t be sharing a room. Show her the way.” She eyes (Y/n) who acts as if he isn’t paying attention. The woman casually strolls away as the two head deeper into the castle.

“Why is she so… large?” Wednesday asked, “Genetics, reincarnation tends to have adverse effects on how your body functions and reforms. Dian was the God of Medicine here.” He tilts slightly to Wednesday, “There’s something I want to show you.” He said, “Much more interesting than a bedchamber.”

The two stroll out the hearty woods past the castle to a forest. A few spots of clearing were there but still surrounded thick trees.

“This place was a battle ground, graveyard I believe. Legend says you can hear the wails of the dead at night though the forest trees.”

“Was that legend created by you?” She ask sarcastically. “I mean… for the most part.” He admits, “I appreciate you not trying to kill my aunt when she shook your hand.” He thanks her, and kept walking forward. Wednesday halted in her footsteps and he turned to her direction.

“I’ll admit it took everything in my power to not succumb to death at her touch. It’s not like I could have escaped her iron grip anyway.” Wednesday adds in, (Y/n) shrugs. “Fair point.. but I’m glad you’re getting along with her, my cousins.. might be a bit more than you can handle.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, a warning, they’re kids they don’t know any better.” He gently took her hand, sensing her unwary gaze. “Something’s bothering you.. what is it?” He leaned in, Wednesday wanted to speak freely but, it felt like her lips were bound by a spell, and couldn’t form the words to speak.

The sudden pick up of wind cut off their moment, feeling the odd force of air current against them. Leaves spiraled and danced around them. “That’s… not good.”

“Are spinning leaves a bad omen?”

“No, but it’s just weird.” His response was calm, but wary. Wednesday looked around as the leaves rested and something caught her eye. “(Y/n).” She spoke, “There’s.. a body.”

“A..Body?” He turned to her direction and took a hearty step, the echo formed a wave to bounce sound off, and he felt it on the ground. The two slowly walked towards it. They came across a corpse on the ground, still and unmoving. “It feels like a woman..” (Y/n) knelt down with Wednesday.

“Black hair, late teens. She seems to have some sharp object in her hand, but her hand is, oddly stiff.. her body doesn’t look too cold to allow rigor mortis to set in.” Wednesday said, “Do you know her?”

“No, the servants aren’t human…” he reached and touched her neck, feeling a faint but warm pulse. “She’s alive… perhaps she’s sleeping.”

“Sleeping in the woods behind a castle?” Wednesday replied. “Well when you put it that way..” (Y/n) mumbled. “I’ll just wake her up.”

“Are you sure? All circumstances point to this ending very poorly for you.” Wednesday points out, “We help people Wednesday.. would be wrong of me to leave her here, plus you’re overthinking.”

(Y/n) gently placed his fingers on her forehead, his middle and pointer finger poking the center of her brow. “Eirich bhon aisling gun chrìoch” he spoke a spell and the woman’s eyes slowly opened. (Y/n) confidently turned to Wednesday. “See not a problem—“

Before (Y/n) could confidently tell his girlfriend, the strange woman moves with blinding speed, the sharp object rammed straight between his fourth and fifth rib. It was so fast (Y/n) didn’t have time to even react before falling back and gripping the blade, Wednesday blinked and the next thing she knew he was on the ground in pain. Rushing to his side she saw the knife and held it. “Calm down.. panicking makes you loose more blood. Relax and take a deep breath.” Wednesday caressed his forehead, and with a swift motion yanks the blade from his chest. (Y/n) quickly put his hand on his wound to slow the bleeding. The mystery woman wasn’t angry or sad, she was stunned at what she did, her glossy eyes looked over to the two and immediate guilt washed over her.

“Holy.. shit. I am so sorry!” She pleads, Wednesday turns to her with nothing but cold dead hatred. “I should fill your eyes with hot coals for what you’ve done.” Wednesday rarely shows emotion, but what she does it’s intense, and nothing is more intense than hate.

“It’s fine.. I’m.. fine..” (Y/n) sits up, “Just need.. to get home.. okay?” He asked Wednesday, she turned to the girl. “If you truly are sorry then you’ll help us.. after that.. we’ll see.” Wednesday began to help (Y/n) up, and the mystery girl did as well and essentially carried the boy back home.

Wednesday finished the last seam of her sewing the wound shut as (Y/n) bared his chest and lifted his arms up in her room. Sitting at a desk and across from each other the partners were silent, (Y/n) with pain and Wednesday with worry. The mysterious girl was leaning against a wall, fiddling with her fingers and obviously embarrassed.

“Again… I am.. so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, isn’t the first time I’ve been stabbed or shot.” (Y/n) shrugs, “just a new scar that my girlfriend finds pretty hot huh?” He tilts his head to Wednesday, who looks away trying to keep her composure.

“Your stab wasn’t deep enough to puncture the heart thankfully, but you knew how to stab in between the ribs and the right place to land a fatal blow, impressive.” She admits. The girl smiled, even if she was fighting back guilt. “Oh uh, thanks.. my mom taught me a lot, honestly I was scared to death I killed you.. my hair allowed went white, it’s.. black so you would have noticed..” she said, which was a major screw up.

(If you knew why, congrats.)

“Why did you say that?” Wednesday said, the girl raised an eyebrow. “Uh.. what do you mean?” She asked dumbfounded. She slowly stood up, grabbing a pair of scissors.

“You pointed out your hair color as if you knew one of us couldn’t see it…” Wednesday pointed out, which made (Y/n) raise his eyebrow, he slowly turns to the direction of the girl.

“She’s right.. I didn’t have my cane and my glasses are pretty normal.. how did you know I was blind?” He said, and a look of utter panic was on her face.

“You knew who we were, and you attacked..” Wednesday took a step closer.

“I’m sure you have some explanation.. right?” (Y/n) also stood up, and the girl sighed and shook her head.

“Dad’s gonna kill me…” she sighed and looked up at them. “Okay… my name, Is Fall Monday Healy.”

(Y/n)’s face twists to confusion. “.. Who?” He asked in disbelief and Fall gave an awkward and sad smile, “I’m from the future… so.. Hi Mom, Hi Dad.” She looks at them. (Y/n) and Wednesday turn to each other, it seems this break has taken a very interesting turn.

[starlightazriel]

bee 2

desc: (fem reader) modern au best friends to lovers, roommate az, angsty + smutty, multiple parts (not sure how many yet at least 5)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol abuse, reader being self concious, jealous az, SEXUAL TENSIonnn, sex dream

wc: 4.1k

other parts will be found on my azriel masterlist

two

I was completely mortified. I could hear Azriel getting ready for the beach in the morning, and no matter how badly I had to pee I refused to exit my room. There was no way I could face him yet.

I hadn't even known how long he had been standing there. Had he heard me moan his name?

I watched my door, listening waiting to hear the front door swing shut. I see darkness under my door and i bite my lip knowing he's standing on the other side.

Don't knock, don't knock, don't knock.

The house was so quiet I could hear him sigh before walking away from my door and I finally heard the front door close.

My phone chimes a moment later as I walk to the bathroom and my stomach churns when I see Azriels name pop up on the screen. i know you worked late i didn't want to wake you up. you gonna come out to the house when you get up?

I swallowed locking my phone again, I'd respond later.

I couldn't stop thinking about what was going through Azriels head. He was probably judging me. I used the bathroom and went back to my room, staring at myself in the mirror. I felt so ashamed, what kind of person just did that in someone else's bed?

I groaned to myself falling back on my bed pressing my hands into my face. He probably thought that I was obsessed with him now. 'your bed is comfortable?' Thats what I had come up with?

And the women he hooked up with? The ones he would meet in bars or bring home from clubs... They just weren't like me. Even though he never really had anything serious except once or twice, his ex girlfriends? All older than him, seasoned, sometimes even married.

It had been near impossible to focus on any homework or studying I hadn't texted Azriel back, hoping he would just leave it alone thinking I was just busy with school work.

My phone chimes with another text, the afternoon sun was peeking through my curtains, I knew I should get up and get out of the house.

kats looking for you. you should get outside you been in all day.

i have a lot of homework azriel I squinted, looking down at the text I had just sent. Since when did I become so formal with him?

please..for me?

My heart leapt and I read the words over and over, pulling my lip between my teeth. Another message popped up.

and for kat? she's begging over my shoulder and she wants me to tell you her phones dead and that's why she hasn't called herself

I sighed softly, that seems more like it, not for Azriel. For Kat, who probably was telling him what to say.

Kat and I had been fast friends ever since Rhys hired her into the shop, she was an aspiring tattoo artist working out her days at the front desk until she was ready to start her apprenticeship. Our friend ship was easy, she was one of the first female friends that I had ever had in my life that I actually trusted.

She sort of knew about my feelings for Azriel, maybe not the extent, but she knew. It wasnt that hard for anyone to figure it out with the way that I looked at him. Anyone except for him, I guessed. Kat had blatantly asked me about it one day, I remembered blushing furiously and staring down at my drink which had been answer enough for her. She pushed me to make a move for a while and eventually gave up, realizing that I would never grow the confidence or the balls to actually do anything about it.

okay give me twenty I finally responded after a long few minutes of debating wether or not I could handle that right now after what had happened yesterday. It had barely even been twenty four hours.

I shake my head, looking at myself in the mirror again, I looked horrible. My hair was messy and I had dark circles under my eyes from working late and not being able to sleep.

I at least had to shower and blow dry my hair. I couldn't show up looking like this. Even if the fate that awaited me was bound to be relentless torture until I was back in the safe confines of my room. Would Azriel even speak to me in person? I wasnt sure I wanted him to, the embarrassment of what he had caught me doing was enough let alone the fact that he had now seen me completely naked. In broad daylight at that. I didnt look like the thinner taller women that Az usually went for, so when I fantasized about what our first time could be like, the lights were always off.

"You're an idiot," I told my reflection, freshly showered and at least a little more presentable. I put on my cream colored string bikini, some shorts, and tied a hoodie around my shoulders, knowing that soon it would be cold on the beach with the evening approaching, I wouldn't stay that long, but just in case. "Azriels probably going to disown you and kick you out of his apartment as soon as he realizes youre a creepy little fuck that's obsessed with him," I added, grimacing at my expression. "And now youre an idiot who's talking to yourself," I groaned again, wishing I could be anywhere else, or anybody else.

-

"Where's your mind been at today?" Rhys asks, plopping down in the sand next to Azriel on the outskirts of the group. They had a fire going the group was lively, Kat dancing to the music that Rhys had put on, Cassian watching, a beer in hand talking to Riley, their newest tattoo artist at the shop. Cass and Azriel himself weren't exactly a fan of the guest artist but what Rhys said they had to go with, as the owner of the shop, he always had the final say. Azriel shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink, his eyes flicking to Rhys.

"Just didnt sleep much," he responds, leaning back into the sand.

"Y/n!" Kat screams then, Azriels eyes land on Bee in the distance, Kat running for her full bore. He swallowed hard watching as they stop a little ways from the outskirts of the rest of the group, his eyes raking over Bees body clad in a little bikini. Her eyes land on his too, for a moment, they quickly dart nervously back to Kat. Azriel wondered what she was thinking, he wondered if she would approach him or ignore him all night.

"The fucking tits on her, you pierced those Cass? What kind of nipples does she have?" Rileys voice interrupted Azriels thoughts and he felt his mouth go dry, his entire body tensing.

"Careful," Cassian warned him, knowing exactly how Azriel could be when anyone disrespected Bee, but now it felt different for Azriel. It wasnt just about feeling the need to protect her, he felt... Jealous. "You know that's classified, client confidentiality," Cass smirked and his eyes drifted over to Azriel who was now completely seething. Who the fuck did Riley even think he was?

"She's off limits," Azriel simply says, trying to mask his tone the best he could from the growl that threatened to slip out.

"Says who, you? She's grown," Riley rises to his feet to greet the pair. Azriel can't bring himself to peel his eyes away.

"I'll fuck him up Rhys," Azriel threatened, his beer forgotten in the sand as he watched the three of them closely.

"I got a good lawyer for you when you do," Cass snickers softly, standing to grab himself another beer from the cooler.

"No ones fighting," Rhys says, glancing between the two of them before rolling his eyes. "Why you so touchy tonight Az?" he just shakes his head, trying his best to tear his eyes away.

"I told you, Im just tired," he stood up, brushing the sand off of himself and advances to monitor the situation.

-

No, no, no no. Don't come over here. Not so soon. I felt like I was going to pass out when I saw Azriel advancing toward us. Kat was annoyed by Rileys approach because she had been trying to figure out why I showed up so late and to ask what had happened yesterday because all I had done was send her 'I need to go live under a rock and die' without any further explanation.

"Bee, you finally left your homework," Azriel speaks, standing directly next to Riley who he'd interrupted, not that I had been listening, I had been internally panicked about this exact moment.

"Well- I um- yeah I got what I needed to done," I lied awkwardly, struggling to get a single word out underneath Az's blatant stare. When had he ever looked at me like that? My gut churned at the thought of what he might actually be thinking. Kat looked between the two of us, squinting, her lips pursing together slightly. She knew she had missed something. He glanced at Riley, annoyance flashing in his eyes and then back at me, I could tell he wanted to say something.

"I can tell you are both dying to get her alone, but I need her first," Kats words had me blushing furiously. Both of them? Dying to get me alone? What was she even thinking? Riley maybe, as he always seemed to flirt with me anytime I would drop by the shop or find myself hanging out with them when Kat or Azriel gave me an invite. But I was almost positive the last thing that Azriel wanted was to be alone with me, maybe to tell me to pack my shit and go. I opened my mouth to say something along the lines of telling her to shut up but she was dragging me away toward the house, away from the beach and the fire they had going. I wondered what the guys were saying, glancing over my shoulder as we walked toward the wrap around porch overlooking the beach. Azriel and Riley were standing there talking now, it looked heated.

"What's going on with you two? Azriel has barely said a word all day and you can't even look him in the face when he shows up," she eyes me, a small smirk threatening at her lips. "You finally fucked him didnt you?" her smirk breaks out in a grin and I pale slightly, falling back into one of the patio chairs.

"I wish. It's bad," I groan, pressing my hands into my face. I didnt even know how to tell her what had happened. I knew it would sound so much worse out loud.

"Im dying to know, you have to tell me," she giggles quietly, her already bubbly voice enhanced with her drunken state.

"He caught me using my vibrator in his room Kat. Im fucking done for," my voice is so quiet that if it wasnt for her laugh I would have thought she didnt even hear me.

"Girl that's crazy. Shit, you have more balls than I thought, maybe more than me," her hand flies to her mouth, my cheeks warm with embarrassment.

"Kat its not funny. I just single handedly destroyed any chance I ever have for him to see me as anything more than the stupid little immature little girl that hes always had to look after," my face is covered by my hands again, and I suddenly wished that I had never even come here.

"You never know y/n," Kat said and I pulled my hands away to look at her. "Maybe this will finally make him realize how much of a woman you've grown into," she added, I swallowed, considering as I looked out to the beach and the water, the boys were sitting around the fire smoking now, laughter could be heard in the distance but I didnt hear Azriels and I paled when I noticed him walking toward the house.

"Hes coming," Kat squeaks out giggling softly and standing up.

"Don't leave me here," I begged quietly, it felt like a rock was forming in the pit of my stomach. She only flashed me a devilish grin before turning around.

"Oh good Az, you can keep y/n company while I get our drinks," Kat threw me one more glance and winked in encouragement, I threw her daggers in response and I suddenly felt naked as Azriel took a seat across from me. The air was cooler now, the sunset quickly approaching. Azriels eyes flicked to my chest, my nipples showing through the thin fabric and his throat bobbed his eyes quickly flicking to mine and I averted my gaze. I couldn't remember him ever looking at me this much.

"Hey," he cleared his throat, and I look at him again, hes blushing. Maybe he was just as embarrassed as I was.

"Um hi," I smile weakly, a blush creeping onto my own cheeks, it was unbearably awkward and I would have to get back at Kat for this some way later.

"So..." he started and I silently begged to any existing higher power to please not let him bring up yesterday. "Are you going to tell me why you were in my room?" he finally said, and I felt my gut reel, wishing a hole would open in the earth beneath me and swallow me up. I shifted in my seat, our eyes met again and there was something new there but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"I told you... Your bed is comfortable," my voice is strained and I felt hot, I wished for him to stop looking at me like that. I couldn't handle his intense stare, I fought the urge to put my hoodie on. He raised his eyebrows, leaning back in his seat, amusement twinkled in his eyes.

"So that's what youre going with?" he cocked his head slightly, tipping his chin up. He was drunk maybe a little high too, I could tell by the way he carried himself, the slight slur in his words.

"I-" I started but couldn't find anything to say, heat pooled in my core at the sight of him, the way his jaw flexed slightly as he waited for my response. "Yeah," I finally mumbled pathetically, he stares his eyes not leaving me I could tell he wanted to ask more questions, wanted to continue.

"What did Riley want?" he then asks, my brows draw together in confusion but I'm grateful for the subject change.

"Riley? Oh, um, there's a piece Ive been wanting to get done and hes only charging me materials we were just talking about it," I swallow, he squints slightly, clearly it was the first he had heard about this, I was sure Riley would have said something.

"Why? You don't want me to do it?" He asked then, an edge in his tone now, a challenge. I swallowed before opening my mouth, and then closing it. My cheeks were blazing as I uncomfortably shifted in my chair, I didnt know how to feel about the air between us. It felt suffocating.

-

"I- Its just in kind of an intimate place, I didnt think you would want to," Bee finally said, she was fidgeting nervously with her fingers, eyes kept darting to his and then away again.

"An intimate place?" Azriel asked slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly, his spine straightened at the thought of Riley tattooing her, his hands on her. It made him sick.

"Come on guys," Kat interrupted, Azriels eyes flickered to her, annoyance written on his face. He made a mental note to further investigate when he was at the shop the next day. "Drunk never have I ever, Rhys brought a bottle," she giggles and grabs Bees hand, Azriel stands to follow them.

"What are we, twelve?" Azriel asked and rolled his eyes as he follows them back to the group, he watched Bee closely as she pulled her hoodie over her body. He was secretly relieved since he hadn't been able to tear his eyes off of her since she had arrived.

"Oh shut up, it will be fun," Kat says as they approached the group, all finding seats around the fire in the sand. Rhys poured a cup of tequila for every one of them, Azriel smiled seeing Bee out of the corner of his vision, sniffing the liquor and scrunching her nose in distaste. They began playing, quickly all becoming quite drunk, he couldn't keep his eyes off of Bee, he wondered if she noticed. She would just blush and look away every time.

Azriel had to give it to Kat, it was entertaining. They were also certainly learning new things about each other. It was dark now, the only light from the fire and the moon, the waves lapped gently against the beach, and it was kind of peaceful.

"Never have I ever had a threesome," Riley said, Azriels eyes flicked to Bee, she didn't drink, neither did Kat. He took a small sip and her eyes widened slightly but she quickly looked away from him, Rhys and Cass also drank and Riley smirked at the two women. "Maybe we can go fix that for all three of us," he said smoothly, licking over his lip, his eyes were fixed on Bee who was blushing furiously now, Azriel tensed, his grip tightening on his cup.

"Oh shut up, y/n and I could find someone so much hotter to have a threesome with," Kat giggles softly, gently nudging her with her shoulder. "Az, its your turn, you have to go," everyone turned to him expectantly, he shrugged, his eyebrows raising slightly as he tried to think of something to say, he had skipped his last two turns.

"Never have I ever fell in love," he finally said, Bees eyes flicked to him and she looked at him curiously, she took a small sip from her cup along with everyone else. "Guess Im the only one."

"You have no heart," Cass snickered, earning a dirty look from Azriel.

"Or youre all just soft," he said back before beginning to roll himself a spliff, Rhys laughed and shook his head. Azriel couldn't help but wonder which one of Bees dumbass ex boyfriends she had been in love with. There was only a couple, he hadn't approved of either of them at the time. "Bee?" Rhys asked then, watching her expectantly, she shrugs looking up to the sky as if it would give her an answer.

"Never have I ever got off from head?" Bee finally says before looking back at the group, everyone took a sip from their cup. Azriels eyes fixed on her now, and he was chewing the inside of his lip, the spliff he had been rolling finished on his lap now. He imagined fixing that for her, he imagined his lips and his tongue all over her body, the sound of her moans filling the room. What the fuck was wrong with him? The thought made his pants feel just the slightest bit tighter.

"That's a sad life, I can fix that one for you too," Riley chimed in, a smirk plastered on his face. Azriel squinted, cleared his throat, his chin tilting up in Rileys direction. Bee was blushing, her eyes fixed on Azriel now.

"No ones fixing anything for anyone," Azriel shrugged, picking up his spliff finally to light it. He noticed Kat looking between him and Bee an excited light in her eyes, what was that about?

"Never have I ever got caught or caught someone masturbating!" Kat chimes out, Bees face goes completely pale and then red a second later before she looks at Kat a horrified expression on her face. They both drank from their cups, eyes only meeting for a split second. She told Kat about what happened? Big mistake.

"So that's why it's been so weird between you two," Cass is snickering from the corner. "I have to ask though, who caught who?" he adds and Bee rose to her feet, quickly, dusting the sand off.

"Bathroom," she manages to get out before she whirled on the group and started walking quickly back toward the house.

"Well that wasnt awkward at all," Cass laughs again, looking back to Kat. Azriel rolled his eyes, dusting the sand off of his clothes as he stands as well.

"Nice one Kat," Azriel growled quietly, she threw her hands up in defense, apologizing quietly. Azriel didnt really care what they would say after he walked away, that didnt really matter. He just wanted to check on her.

He found Bee pacing back and forth in the kitchen nervously and he leaned against the door frame, watching her curiously. He didnt understand his new found interest in his best friend. She had always just been his best friend Bee...

"It's normal you know," he finally spoke, causing her to almost jump out of her skin.

"Can you stop sneaking up on me?!" she demanded, holding her hand to her chest before relaxing. "Yeah, it's normal but not in your roommates room," she added, Azriels lips twitched, a smile threatening at them.

"You wanna go home?" he asked, changing the subject, he gestured toward the front hall of the house that lead to the front door. She relaxed again, looked toward the window out at the group.

"What are they gonna say?" she bit her lip, looking back at Azriel who drew his brows together.

"Bee, we live together, remember? It's normal for us to leave together."

-

Azriel advanced, dropping to his knees in front of his bed before her. Bee looked down at him with her big doe eyes, her lips parting in surprise. She whispered his name softly, holding her vibrator to her clit, it buzzed softly and he pushed her legs open more, his fingers gently squeezing the soft skin of her inner thighs. He groaned softly, dipping his head between her legs and gently lapping up her wetness. She moaned his name again, her voice breaking slightly, her free hand found his hair as her body shook gently beneath him, he knocked the toy away, his lips wrapping around her clit and he sucked on her soft skin, moaning against her at the taste, she cried out again, Azriels name leaving her lips-

Azriel woke to the sound of his alarm and he rolled over, groaning and smashing his hand onto the beeping alarm clock.

"Fucking hell," he breathed, his head absolutely pounding from the amount they had drank last night. His cock ached, completely rock solid from the dream he was having. He rubbed his face, rising to his feet. He knew he had too many early clients to take care of that now, when was the last time he even had a fucking wet dream? High school?

Azriel exited his room to go have a cold shower, Bee smacked into him instantly, their bodies colliding, Azriel held her arms to steady her, their eyes meeting. He rose his eyebrows, usually she was in class on Mondays by now. Or on her way at least. Her lips were slightly parted, cheeks flushed deeply as she looked up at him, he could feel his morning wood throbbing between them. "Late?" he finally speaks, his voice husky from sleep. She seems to snap out of it, shaking her head slightly pulling away, he doesn't miss her eyes widen when they settle on his hard cock that was pressed against his boxers. His cheeks warm as he wondered what she was thinking.

"Y-yes," she stuttered, peeling her eyes away from him finally, her eyes flicking back up to his face. "I'll see you later," she choked out before all but running out of the apartment.

Azriel sighed quietly, missing how easy it had been between them only days ago. He couldn't look at her without wanting to rip her clothes off, he couldn't talk to her alone without her dying to get away, he couldn't even be in his bed without being reminded of her in his bed.

Azriel decided that best friends or not, he would be the one to take care of her next time she needed a roll in the sheets. Maybe then they could act normal, maybe the awkwardness would dissipate. Maybe there was just a weird tension between them now that could be fixed by them fucking.

He had to get rid of his new found curiosity some way. It felt wrong even thinking like that, but he needed to know now. She wasnt just Bee anymore, she was fucking hot, and he didnt understand how he had never even noticed before.

-

a/n: sorry this took so long!! not proof read yet so if you see mistakes lmk <3 comment to be tagged in the next part

[crappy-writings]

Safe

Maria HillxReader // Angst/Fluff

*Image is not mine, credit to its creator

Summary: When the Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. Facility is destroyed and you’re trapped under the rubble, Maria has to balance her job as Deputy Director and her relationship with you.

Trigger Warnings: FwB relationship (mentioned), Cursing, Guns, Death, Anxiety, Hospitals, Injuries, Amputation (mentioned), I think that’s it.

No pronouns for the reader were used, I think

Word Count: 6,970

A/N: Thanks to this Reddit thread for helping me figure out the timeline of The Avengers, as well as all the Marvel Wiki pages I visited, lol

Anyways, I'll forever be mad at Secret Invasion for doing my girl so dirty, so I'm jumping back to 2012 Avengers. Don't know if this sucks, so constructive criticism is always welcome.

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Recced Fics Masterlist

May 2nd, 02:47 hrs

“Sir, evacuation may be futile,” Maria says as she steps down the stairs, right on Fury’s heels. “We should tell them to go back to sleep?” Fury turns his head towards her while still descending the stairs. “If we can’t control the Tesseract’s energy, there may not be a minimum safe distance,” she argued.

“I need you to make sure the Phase Two prototypes are shipped out,” Fury orders as he reaches the entrance to where the Tesseract was being kept. “Sir, is that really a priority right now?” she asks incredulously. 

“Until such time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on,” he says, turning towards her, his tone leaving no room to argue, “Clear out the tech below. Every piece of Phase Two on a truck and gone.” 

“Yes, sir,” she says as she passes him by. She had her orders. “With me,” she orders the men who stood at either side of the door as she descends into the lower levels of the facility.

“Dispatch any available teams to the underground levels. Clear out any and all remaining Phase Two prototypes,” she speaks into her communicator. To say that Maria did not agree with focusing on the Phase Two prototypes would be an understatement. If anything, determining a minimum safety distance should be top priority, if there even is one. If not, destroying the Tesseract would be a better option. Regardless of what she thought though, she trusted Fury to know what he was doing. He is the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. for a reason.

“Copied, two additional teams have been dispatched,” the deep voice of an agent rang through her communicator.

The two dispatched teams were already there by the time she arrived at the underground lot, yours being one of them. She takes in a deep breath and subtly braces herself. She was hoping she would not be running into you for at least a few days. 

The two men who came down with her began helping both teams with the prototypes. You load up a few boxes before closing the trunk of the truck, the slam echoing throughout the underground garage. 

“Davidson, you’re driving this one,” you said as you threw a set of keys to one of the agents. Davidson catches the keys easily. “Menendez, Martinez, and Lee, you’re going up with Davidson. Gold leader is already waiting topside.” 

“You,” you point to one of the new arriving agents, “What’s your name?”

“Agent Callahan,” the man you pointed at responded. 

“I’ll have you join Davidson,” you order as you turn to the other agent, “what about you?” 

“Agent Moore,” the agent replied. You nod in acknowledgement, “You’re joining my team in the meantime.” 

The five agents jumped inside the truck and began transporting the prototypes to the surface. 

“Harris, you’re driving that one over there once it’s loaded up. Williams, Parker, Garcia and Moore are going with you. Bennett, you’ll be riding with me,” you continue giving out orders, “Gold leader is waiting for us before moving to the established rendezvous point.”

As you turn to load more boxes, you notice the Deputy Director standing between the cylindrical columns of the large underground parking space. Your gaze lingered on her for a few moments before grabbing one of the small crates and putting it in the truck. Maria noticed this but ignored it. She cannot afford to be distracted by you and this… fling.

She did not know how to describe your relationship as it stood.

“Keep loading boxes, I’ll be back in a minute,” you tell your team, before climbing up the platform and standing beside her.

 “Most of the equipment has already been moved, Gold leader’s team is en route, and my team is taking care of the last few boxes. This should be the last truck from this level and Red and Blue leader reported their levels are cleared. We should be out of here in no more than eight, ten minutes,” you report, crossing your arms over your chest as you oversee your team along with her. 

“Make it five,” she says without looking at you, “I want everyone out of here as quickly as possible.” Her posture remained stiff beside you, and you couldn’t help but be upset by that. 

“Have you thought about what I told you?” you ask quietly. Her posture does not ease. She instead inhales sharply.

 “Yes,” her tone was tense, her answer short. “And?” you prodded after a few beats of silence. “I don’t know,” she answers. 

You sigh in disappointment, but you were not surprised. For as long as you’re known the woman beside you, her main focus has always been her job. You knew this going into this ‘relationship.’ The “friends with benefits” thing had been working out just fine. You met up whenever you wanted to, did whatever you wanted to with no strings attached. But just like one of those cliché movies you sometimes watched, you caught feelings for the woman who had become now more closed off than ever. 

Despite your attempts to keep your changed feelings hidden, she had noticed the subtle shift in your actions, gestures and the way you spoke to her. You yourself did not think you were doing anything different, but apparently, you were wrong. She asked you if anything had changed and you were honest. You told her your feelings about the arrangement had changed and were wanting something more with her, if she agreed. You were foolish for bringing it up at all to her.

She began to shut you out almost immediately, much to your anger and disappointment. Thus, you offered her a sort of ultimatum. She was to decide what she wanted out of the ‘relationship’, out of you, but if she could not, you would call everything off and you would go your separate ways.

The echo of a trunk closing snaps you out of your thoughts. The truck’s engine turns on and you watch as Harris and the other assigned agents drive out of the lot. “Green leader, do you copy?” your comms buzzed with the other team leader’s voice. “Yes, Gold leader, I copy. The remaining prototypes are already en route to topside. Do we have the green light?” you ask. 

“Yes, we do. We are awaiting you and the rest of our teams to arrive up here to head for the rendezvous. See you in a few minutes.”

“Will do Gold Leader, expect us in about 10 minutes, over and out,” you shut off your comms device. You take a deep breath before turning to her, your face serious. 

“I need an answer soon, Hill. I don’t like wasting my time,” you say quietly before straightening up and leaving her side.

“Alright Bennett, hop in, time to go,” you announce loudly as you jump down from the platform, “Let’s go!” 

Maria watches you hop into one of the unattended Jeeps and turn on the ignition. Her tense shoulders loosen up, but her jaw does not unclench. You began to drive as soon as Agent Bennett sat beside you. Her eyes trail after you as the car leaves the parking space.

“So,” Bennett draws out the word casually. “No,” you shut it down quickly.

“You and the Deputy Director?” he pressed on, a smirk creeping up on his lips. “No,” you insisted. 

“That’s a yes.”

“Bennett,” you say warningly. He did not take your tone seriously, knowing that it was all in good fun. Except that it was not very fun for you.

“HR would have a field day with the both of you. Do you think she would get suspended for it? Would you get suspended? Oh, do you think Fury knows?” he pressed on, going off on a tangent now like a gossiping hen. 

“Adrian Bennett, if you don’t shut up now, I will suspend you for spreading rumors,” you say in a serious tone, your grip on the wheel getting tighter.

“Oh, come on boss, it’s all in good fun,” Bennett replies, nudging your shoulder good-naturedly. 

“For you, maybe. Besides, there’s nothing going on between the Commander and me. So, don’t go spreading that around,” you say firmly. Part of you feared that your voice would betray you as you spoke those words, but you managed to keep your tells in check.

“Alright, whatever you say, boss.”

But what he said had struck a chord in you. Had you really been that obvious? You weren’t a spy after all, you were a soldier. Your confusing, undisclosed “relationship” with Hill could get you both in a huge amount of trouble.

You cast your thoughts aside. She could very well choose to end what you have, reject any potential future involvement with you. You sigh softly, opting to focus on the winding tunnel ahead of you.

“Thinking about your girlfriend?”

“Adrian.”

“Okay, okay, I’m done, I’m done.”

You watch as a few cars come into view from your rearview mirrors. It wasn’t until the sound of gunshots echoed within the tunnels that you figured out something was wrong. A blue flash of energy flew towards one of the cars, obliterating it in the process. 

“What the fuck?!” you yell as you watch the remains of the car lose control, going up a ramp and flipping over. The destroyed vehicle swung slightly, stilling in a parallel position, blocking the other cars that had followed behind. 

“Do I shoot?!” Bennett asks as he pulls out his firearm, waiting on your orders. “Stay vigilant but don’t engage yet!” you tell Bennett as you reach for the communicator on your hip.

“Agent Hill, we’re in line of a hostile force, do we engage?!” you yell into your comms as you continue to drive forwards, speeding up as you go. The earth beneath your vehicle began to shake violently. 

“Engage, if possible, but focus on getting out, I won’t have any heroes tonight,” the strained voice of Maria crackles through. The hostile force’s vehicle passes you by, and Bennett trains his gun on it. 

“No heroes, Bennett,” you remind him, but watch the vehicle for any hostility. A man dressed in strange clothes sat in the cargo bed of the truck. He looked ill, but his eyes were fierce. A man on a mission.

 A few moments later, a truck skidded into the tunnel, narrowly avoiding collision with the wall. The car drifts, turning in a half circle to face the hostile force. Both vehicles collided, the backwards facing car attempting to slow down the hostiles. Shots flew from each vehicle, which prompted Bennett to shoot, too.

The strangely dressed man looked at the both of you, his eyes holding a cold determination. He pointed a bright gold staff at you and your eyes widened. Before anything could happen though, the hostile’s vehicle began swerving from side to side, shaking off the truck that was blocking its path. 

The driver recovered control quickly though and continued in hot pursuit. What sounds like a crackle of thunder follows closely behind you, much to your confusion. You stare through the rearview mirrors and watch as the tunnels begin to collapse, and it's gaining on you, fast. 

You press all the way down on the gas pedal, the vehicle lurching forwards with renewed ferocity. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” the string of swears leaves your mouth as the tunnel collapse seemed to be faster than your car ever could. 

“Fuck!” you scream as a large piece of the underground structure falls right in front of you. You turn the wheel hard in the attempt to dodge it to no avail. The rest of the structure continues to crumble, and you lose control of your vehicle. There was little you could do as the jeep was headed for what used to be a stone ceiling. You press down hard on the breaks and turn the wheel to the side. You crash against it, but not as hard as you expected. The last thing you see is what remains of the ceiling crashing on top of you as you raise your arms over your head.

Maria eventually abandoned her focus on trying to stop Barton and the hostile force. It would be all for naught if she was dead. She pressed down as hard as she could on the gas pedal, the vehicle going as fast as it could. It was not fast enough as the collapsing tunnel caught up to her.  

Maria’s head throbbed as she shifted from her position inside the trapped vehicle. She could feel blood dripping from her nose and fresh bruises forming in her arms and legs. The adrenaline from the chase was beginning to give out, exhaustion settling deep in her bones. She looked over the shifting rubble and debris of the now collapsed tunnels.

Did you manage to escape? She doesn’t remember seeing you or your jeep get out before she had. 

“Green leader, do you copy?” Hill spoke evenly into her communicator. She was met with the silent crackle of her device. “Green leader, do you copy?” she repeats herself, quietly begging for your response. Silence. Your name leaves her lips, dropping all formalities, her voice strained, “are you there?” 

There was still no answer from you. She began switching between radio frequencies, catching different snippets of reports as she did.

“--underground tunnels have colla–”

“--er coming in, several men are dow–”

“--act has been stolen from—”

She continued switching between frequencies until Coulson’s voice rang through her communicator, “Director? Director Fury, do you copy?”

“The Tesseract is with a hostile force. I have men down. Hill?” Fury’s voice quickly followed.

“A lot of men still under. I don’t know how many survivors.” She says, breathing heavily as she climbed out of her mangled vehicle. The image of you being trapped under all this debris and rubble flashed before her eyes. Her heart momentarily stops, worry pulsing in waves throughout her body.

“Sound a general call. I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that briefcase,” Fury instructed.

“Roger that.”

“Coulson, get back to base. This is a Level Seven. As of right now, we are at war.”

Maria clenched her jaw as she processed the last few words. She knew what this meant, what was to come. Despite this, her thoughts wandered to you.

She finishes climbing out of the truck on shaky legs and moves past giant blocks of stone and rubble. Hill switched back to the channel you had last spoken through. She uses your call sign once more; it had dawned on her that, after the collapse, a signal might be non-existent, but she was still hoping to hear an answer. Once more, she was met with dreadful silence.

She calls out your name again, soft and anxious, “please be okay.”

May 2nd, 16:00 hrs, 14 hours later…

The Helicarrier was teeming with life, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents running around in preparation for the arrival of Fury’s new team. The Director had stepped out to recruit Steve Rogers himself, while the Black Widow had been pulled off mission to retrieve Dr. Banner and Agent Coulson had been sent to grab Tony Stark. 

Maria walked around the bridge, looking over the monitors of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents below her. Various agent profiles appeared on a few of the screens, other monitors occupied by mission reports, schematics, maps and graphics. 

Your picture on one of the monitors made her pause, a wave of anxiety courses through her body. She would not let it show though, presenting herself as the poster child of levelheadedness. She swallows hard as she walks closer to the monitor, crouching down beside the agent overlooking the incoming report. 

Her chest tightened when she saw you were still M.I.A. “What’s the status of the search and rescue?” Maria asks, subtly clenching her jaw as she stares at your picture. 

“It’s been slow, only about 31% of missing agents have been recovered, both dead and alive,” the agent, a short blonde, reported somberly, “There’s a lot of ground to cover and there are not enough teams available to work the mission.”

“Keep me updated,” Maria told the agent as she rose from her crouched position, “I want any and all new developments sent to my datapad.” 

“Yes, Commander.”

Maria returned to her position overseeing the main deck. She stared back down at the Main Deck Data Panels, overlooking the Helicarrier’s systems, routing ground teams for the search of Barton and setting up preparations for the Director’s team. Despite her attempts to focus on the influx of reports on Barton, Loki, and the status of Fury’s team, her mind would wonder and think of you. You, trapped under the rubble in the Jeep. You, potentially hurt. Potentially dead. A cold dread settled over chest as those thoughts consumed her mind.    

She stared down at the datapad, switching over to read the names of agents recovered from the facility.

Rodriguez, Vivian, M.I.A.

Porter, William, M.I.A.

Fitzgerald, Liliam, K.I.A.

Harris, Augustus, M.I.A.

Greene, Emiliano, Recovered.

She did not know what was worse, the fact that she had still not found your name on the list, or finding it and potentially reading K.I.A. The longer you went without being found, the less likely it would be a rescue and more of a recovery mission. She pushes the thought away. You will be fine. You are alive. You have to be.

“Commander,” Fury’s booming voice startles her out of her thoughts. 

“Yes, sir?” she asks, her voice firm, hiding having been caught off focus. She had not been informed that the Director had already returned to the Helicarrier. 

“Any progress on the Tesseract or Loki?” he asked, his voice stern. 

“Nothing yet, nothing has been reported on the ground and the techs are still in process of tapping all wireless cameras,” Hill reports as she looks up from her datapad.

“What about the rescue at the facility?”

“33% of agents have been rescued. About 12% of those have been found dead, but that statistic is slowly rising.”

The Director gave no reaction other than taking a deep breath. He raised his head slightly and his face remained neutral.

“Sir, due to those statistics, I want to reassign a few teams to aid in the search and rescue mission,” she states firmly. She held her head high and her posture straight. For a second, your face flashed in her mind and her heart sank a little deeper in her chest.

She was not doing it just for you. It was also for all the agents still trapped under the rubble and them being able to continue living their lives. That is what she was telling herself at least, feeling slightly guilty of the selfish part of her that was focused on you, and only you. Yet, for all she knew, you might already be dead. 

The thought made her stomach churn uncomfortably. She did not want to picture you trapped in those tunnels, crushed under the weight of an entire building. A heavy feeling made her heart sink to her stomach. Was there something she could have done to avoid this?

“Pull the remaining S.P.E.C.T.R.U.M. team and reassign them to the search and rescue, but that is all I can afford to compromise.” 

“Yes, sir,” A wave of relief momentarily soothed the drowning feeling in her heart. She began to walk away, to give the new orders before Fury called out for her once more.

“And Hill? I need you here,” Fury gives her a pointed, knowing look. The look made her somewhat nervous, but she nonetheless acknowledged him with a sharp nod, before returning to her position and reassigning the rest of your team for the search and rescue.

May 3rd, 20:37 hrs, 42 hours later…

Maria’s feet dragged her to her quarters, having been relieved of duty about ten minutes earlier. The last twelve hours had been rough, but the search for Loki had finally paid off. He was located at a gala in Stuttgart, Germany and Fury’s assembled team for the Avengers Initiative had just been dispatched to retrieve the Trickster god.

Her eyes were heavy with sleep and despite having just gotten off duty, her job was not quite done. She sat on top of her cot, her datapad in hand as she watched the stream of recent mission reports and updates on Barton and Loki. After reading those, she began looking through the recovery list, dread settling in her stomach once more. She scrolled through hundreds of agents' names, the status pinned right beside them.

Smith, Jonathan, K.I.A.

Badillo, Sarah, K.I.A.

Sullivan, Nina, K.I.A.

Pruny, Charlie, Recovered

Barrett, Daniel, K.I.A.

Maria swallowed hard as she continued to read the names of both fallen and recovered agents. She knows this is what happens in this line of work. She knows that as much as S.H.I.E.L.D. invests in making sure their agents come back safe, it is not a guarantee and that casualties are not something that can be avoided. There was still a lingering feeling of guilt and profound sorrow, knowing that not everyone gets to come back.

She rubs her eyes, trying to stave off the tiredness that settled into her bones. Your name has still not popped up on any of the reports, you are still missing. The sick feeling she had become well acquainted with returned. 

You cannot be dead. She refuses to believe that. Your last meeting replayed in her head. The disappointment and frustration in your eyes were burned into her mind. Your ultimatum rang inside her head.

Your face would appear every time she closed her eyes. She longed to see your smile again. For your eyes to sparkle with mischief, to feel your warm hand in hers. She wants to hear you laugh at a stupid joke. She missed the sound of your voice, the curve of your nose, the quirk of your lips. She missed you. She cannot lose you, not now, not yet. She loved you, you didn’t know that she lo–

Oh. Oh.

She was in love with you. 

The realization hit her like a bullet to the chest. She was in love with you. She had been so caught up in her job, so caught up in her own responsibilities, she never once realized how her own feelings had changed towards you. Part of her felt like a hypocrite. She had called you out on the near imperceivable changes in your behavior, but she had not realized how her own feelings had changed. How did she not realize it before?

She tries to think back to the last time she felt this way about someone. Has she ever felt that way before? She remembered her past relationships, having crushes and a bit of infatuation, but those had never developed into love.

She had always been married to her job. When she first joined S.H.I.E.L.D., she worked tirelessly to prove her worth as an agent. She rose through the ranks through hard and consistent work, becoming quite a formidable agent. She knew not everyone was on board with the Director’s pick of Second in Command. She did not mind it though, she had nothing to prove to those who disapproved. She knew she was always damn good at her job.

Perhaps that is why she did not realize her feelings before. Maybe that is why she had unfairly pushed you away. She leaned her head against the wall behind her, the horrid, guilty feeling coming back with an unyielding vengeance.

Why did she realize her feelings now? Why not before? Why did you have to be trapped under the damn tunnels, potentially dead? Why has no one found you yet? Why can’t she be there, searching for you herself?

She takes deep, even breaths as she works herself up again. No, she cannot afford that right now. You can’t be dead. She’s holding onto the hope that you are not dead.

She looks down at her datapad once more, a new set of agent names scrolling upwards.

Maguire, Christian, Recovered

Duque, Cristina, Recovered

Taylor, Rosa, K.I.A.

Buchi, Mamelu, Recovered

Bennett, Adrian, K.I.A.

Her heart stops as she spots your name. Her hands shook as she stared down at your status.

Recovered

A relieved laugh escapes her involuntarily. You are alive. You are still alive. The report said that you were in critical condition and were en route to the S.H.I.E.L.D. Trauma Centrum based in Nevada. She needed to see you.

The relief that had soothed her anxiety is short lived as she realizes she cannot leave yet. Her duties, responsibilities and the current state of the emergency the world finds itself in would not allow her to be with you at the moment. ‘I need you here,’ Fury’s voice reverberated in her head. She sighs deeply in frustration, guilt and relief playing tug-of-war with her heart. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers quietly as she stares down at your profile. 

May 4th, 15:24 hrs, 61 hours later…

“Oh, and uh, as for the matter that’s not in question? Where you morons tried to nuke New York? Well, that’s on the record. As in we recorded it. We do that. We’re S.H.I.E.L.D.,” silence hung between all the council members as Maria continued. The council members would not look at her, the shame of their decision hanging over them.

“So, if you’re thinking about coming after Nick Fury, ever,” she emphasizes the last word as her fingers work the control panel to open the privacy door of the Helicarrier’s main deck, “Think really, really hard.” 

With a pointed look and a victorious smirk, she turns off the screen before rejoining the main deck.

“How did that go?” Fury approached beside her shortly after. 

“Sold you down the river, sir. You should have your job within the month,” she replied as she began overlooking the Main Deck Data Panels. 

“Good work,” he says before continuing, “you should maybe ask for a chair.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says with an amused smile. She falters briefly though, as the Avengers make their way into her mind. 

“Sir, how does it work now? They’ve gone their separate ways. Some, pretty extremely far,” she walked alongside Fury as they made their way towards the large windows that oversaw the outside of the Helicarrier. She had had no faith in the Avengers Initiative. How did such a disjointed group with such different backgrounds ever function as a team? Who was to say they could do it again? “If we get into a situation like this again, what happens then?”

“They’ll come back,” he replies as if it were the simplest truth in the world.

“Are you really sure about that?” She did not quite know how his faith in this group could be so unwavering, especially after witnessing all their arguments before and during the recent battle. 

“I am,” he answers once again as if it were the easiest question on Earth.

“Why?” she asked earnestly. 

“Because we’ll need them to.”

A silent understanding passed between them as they overlooked the outside of the Helicarrier, agents running along the aviation runway. It was there that she understood that it was a play of faith. What had consistently carried the Avengers team was Fury’s belief in them, individually in each of them as well as in a group. It is that very same belief that would bring them together if any other event were to occur. 

            She takes a deep breath, her thoughts wondering to you once more. She has not been able to follow up on your status with everything that had happened since early that morning. A naive part of her wondered if maybe her belief that you would be okay had anything to do with your survival. 

Silence hung between both Director and Commander for a few moments. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Agent Hill?” Fury asks suddenly, turning his head towards her and eyed her knowingly. 

“Sir?” Maria asks, startled. Did he know? How did he find out? Perhaps she had not hidden her emotions as masterfully as she thought. Perhaps they would both be in trouble for the duration of the month.

“Go, we’ll talk about this later,” his voice was stern, but it did not match his soft expression.

“Thank you, sir,” she replies in a similar tone, but a ghost of a smile makes its way onto her lips. She leaves his side and hurriedly leaves the main deck.

Fury watched his Second in Command walk away. With a small smile, he approved the take-off of a Quinjet heading for Nevada. 

May 4th, 20:12 hrs, 66 hours later…

Maria had not been allowed to see you for the first 2 hours since arriving at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Trauma Centrum in Nevada. She had to argue her way into seeing you, having been told that only spouses and family would be allowed to enter. She was successful in the end, though, having pulled her rank into the conversation. She was not entirely proud of it, but it got her in and that is all she cared about.

Eventually, she was able to meet with one of your doctors. She informed Maria that your next of kin had been notified of your current state. The doctor also explained your injuries and the status of your treatment. Several of your ribs had been broken, you had a punctured lung, a dislocated shoulder, and had suffered a concussion. One of your arms was shattered and it had been a miracle they did not have to amputate. Maria was both surprised and relieved your injuries were not more extensive. You have still not woken up since arriving at the Centrum.

She was allowed into your room shortly after the meeting with the doctor. Your non-dominant arm was covered in a white cast. The side of your face was heavily bruised and slightly swollen. Other bruises, stitched cuts and patched-up scrapes littered your face, arms and chest. You were paler than usual, and your eyes were slightly sunken. 

Maria swallowed hard as she took in the sight of you. It was hard to see you in such a state. She approached your bed slowly, as if moving too quickly would make you disappear. A soft beeping was the only sound in the room, aside from the gentle buzz of the air vents. 

She sat at your bedside, watching as your chest rose and fell, slow, steady breaths leaving you. It was the most beautiful sound she had heard in the last few days. She took your uninjured hand in hers, the coldness of your fingertips sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. She did not let go though, as she began to gently stroke the top of your hand with her thumb. You were here. You would be okay. She shifted around in the hospital chair in attempts to get comfortable, exhaustion of the past few days finally reaching her. She continued to hold your hand as she began to feel the lull of sleep calling her. 

She woke up when she felt you squeeze her hand ever so gently. Her eyes fluttered open, her body demanding sleep but her heart demanding to see you. Maria first saw her hand in yours and she raised her head to see you. Your eyes met hers, a lazy smile spreading over your lips. She smiled back as she took you in. Your eyes were droopy and slightly red. It was clear you were desperately fighting off sleep.

“Hey,” Maria whispered, running her thumb over the top of your hand soothingly.

“Hey,” you whispered back. Your voice was hoarse and thick with sleep, your eyes fluttering open and close.

“How are you feeling?” Maria asked worriedly.

“I’m tired,” you reply breathlessly, giving her a small, playful smile. Maria smiles back, raising her hand to rest beside your head, and begins to gently stroke your cheek. You lean into her touch, your eyes beginning to droop shut.

“Rest,” she commands softly. You continue to fight off sleep, struggling to open your eyes to stare back into hers. “No,” you whine softly, “I don’t want you to go away.”

“I won’t go away,” Maria replied, a pang of sympathy and guilt spreading in her chest. “Promise?” your eyes begin to close against your will once more. 

“I promise.” 

You continued to struggle against sleep for about a minute before slipping back into unconsciousness. Maria continued to stroke your cheek soothingly, watching your chest rise and fall in a rhythmic pattern. You were here, you were alive. Her hand found yours once more as she laid her head on the bed.

 “I won’t go away,” she repeated quietly as she watched you for a while longer, eventually falling asleep once more.

You were still asleep by the time she woke up again a few hours later. She sat up in her seat, her back popping and cracking as she did, a dull ache having settled throughout her body. She rolled her shoulders in attempts to loosen up her muscles as she walked towards the bathroom, hoping to quickly freshen up.

She notices you shifting in your bed as she quietly steps back into the room, your head lifting up when you notice her. You adjusted yourself to sit up on the bed, a pained wince decorating your features as you did. “Hey, hey, be careful,” Maria scolded, her tone soft and gentle, as she approached your bedside, “You’ve been out for a few days. How are you feeling?”

“I’m better. Less tired,” you reply, your voice cracking as you speak, before giving her a lazy smile. 

Maria cannot help but smile back at you, “That’s good to hear. Do you need anything?” You shake your head gently before resting your head against your pillow, your eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds.  

“You’re hurt,” you ask as you notice the stitches at the side of her brow.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m okay,” Maria replies as she sits beside you once more. She placed her hand on the bed, inches away from yours. 

You take her in. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she no longer wore her S.H.I.E.L.D. suit, instead wore a spare physical training uniform. Her eyes were tired, darkened bags hanging under her eyes. Bruises and small cuts littered her arms as well. Despite this, she held a small, unwavering smile.

Silence settled over the both of you for a few minutes. There was a far-off look to you, your eyes holding a mixture of guilt, worry and fear. Maria sighed quietly, guessing what you might be thinking about. 

“Did… did my team…?” your voice was quiet and pleading. Your eyes did not meet hers, fearing her expression would give away the answer before her lips could.

“Agent Bennett… he didn’t make it, sweetheart,” she says sympathetically, the soft, gentle tone never leaving her voice, “I’m sorry.”

A pained sigh escaped your lips as your eyes began to water. He had a son, one who had been living at the facility with him before everything went to hell. The boy had been evacuated at the beginning of the emergency. But now his father…

“And the rest?” you ask shakily.             “Harris, William and Parker made it out unscathed. Garcia was treated for minor injuries and is approved to return to her usual duties,” she answered in the same soft tone, offering you a sad smile. 

A few tears escaped your eyes, a mixture of sadness for your fallen friend and the relief of knowing the rest of your team had made it out. Maria had inched her hand closer, her fingers ghosting over yours. She gently held your hand when you didn’t pull away, giving it a soft squeeze and returning to stroke the top of your hand with her thumb.

            “So, um,” you begin to speak after a while, your voice still shaky and unsteady, “what-what did I miss?”

Maria knew you wanted to distract yourself from the news of the passing of your friend. She offered you a sad smile and a gentle squeeze of your hand before beginning to tell you about the last two days. From gathering the Avengers, to the loss of Agent Coulson, to the Hulk rampaging in the Helicarrier, to the battle of New York. You listened as intently as you could, the thought of your dead friend still hung in the forefront of your mind. 

Silence hung between the both of you for several minutes after Maria told you what you had missed. Her presence here confused you. She kept her promise, she stayed, but that surprised you. Why was she here? S.H.I.E.L.D. was dealing with the aftermath of an alien attack, yet she was sitting beside you, comforting you. The state in which your relationship currently stood does not warrant this, so why was she choosing to be here?

“Maria?” you ask tentatively. She looked into your eyes at the mention of her name. You swallowed down the bubble of fear that formed at the pit of your stomach, “What are we?”

The words said were just barely louder than the medical equipment in the room. Your gaze fell to your hands, watching as you twiddled with your thumbs. 

You suddenly feel her warm hand cup your cheek, gently guiding you to look at her. Her eyes held an earnest, vulnerable look, one that captured your heart and attention. “I thought I lost you, when you were trapped in the tunnels,” the sincerity in her voice almost caught you off guard, “and that scared me more than anything else.”

She squeezed your hand gently, as if to emphasize her point. The vulnerability in her eyes and her voice were something you had never been privy to before, and part of you almost doesn’t know how to react to it. 

“Even an alien invasion?” you give her a weak smile, while also mentally kicking yourself. This was not the moment for you to be making dumb jokes. Maria takes it in stride though, as she gives you an amused smile, “Yes, even an alien invasion.”

“I’m sorry for pushing you into making a decision you weren’t ready to make. I know how important your job is to you, and…” you apologize, your eyes falling to your hands once more.

“No, I’m sorry for pushing you away,” Maria does not want to hear your apologies. You have nothing to apologize for. All she wanted was you, she knew that now. “I… guess I hadn’t realized I had fallen in love with you, and those feelings scared me.”

Your eyes open wide at her confession as you raise your head to look at her, “You-you what?”

Maria’s eyes widened as well, not having realized what she admitted. For a brief moment of panic, she wanted to take it back. Maybe you were not in that place yet. But she reigns herself in and pushes that feeling away, before taking a deep breath and looking at you straight in the eye. She whispers your name oh so gently and lovingly, “I love you.”

A mixture of emotions, good and bad, swirled in her ocean-colored eyes like a storm. She was laying out the most vulnerable parts of herself to you, allowing herself to drop the emotional walls she had built around herself, letting you see how much she cared for you, letting you know she had fallen for you the way you fell for her.

“I love you, too,” you say softly, almost breathlessly. A quiet laugh escapes you as you say those words. You see as relief and pure joy fills her expression. She joins your laugh as she gently holds your face in her hands.

She leaned over you, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. A warm feeling erupted in your chest, a childlike glee overtaking you. Your lips moved in tandem with each other, following a familiar rhythm. Even so, this kiss felt different, it felt renewed and exciting and right. 

You deepened the kiss, placing your hand behind her neck, your fingers getting lost in her hair. That was until you pulled away to gasp for air, your lung capacity not quite what it used to be. She leaned her head against yours, a soft chuckle escaping her.

“Cheeky,” she whispered, her hot breath hitting against your face.

“Can you blame me?” you replied with a mischievous smile.

The door opened suddenly, revealing two nurses. Maria pulled away from you to look at the door, all parties in the room momentarily freezing as the intimate moment was interrupted. Neither you nor Maria had realized until now that your heart monitor had begun beeping rapidly, despite how loud it typically is. Your cheeks felt warm as you looked between Maria and the nurses.

“We heard the monitor– we’ll-we’ll come back later,” one of the nurses said sheepishly. “Sorry for interrupting, go on,” the other one said as they both stepped out.

Soft giggles escaped your lips once the door closed. Maria looked down at you, as she began to laugh, too. She begins to gently brush the hair on the top of your head. You rested your head against your pillow as you looked up at Maria lovingly. 

Maria sends you a big smile, the ones that showed pure love and happiness. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of joy and relief and pure adoration. After days of the awful sinking feeling in her chest and the uncomfortable churning in her stomach, there was finally a lightness in her heart.

She leaned over you, placing a soft kiss on your lips once more.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hi <3 I'm here with my request for TGC/actress!reader! No pressure if you don't like this or feel that you have to write it but what about if the shows out and people are going feral over their insane chemistry on screen and in interviews. But it gets worse when a pic of them kissing in costume on set is leaked and people are torn over if its a deleted scene or not (you can decide haha). And TGC and reader being fluffy and hounded to answer? Tysm if you decide to write this, no worries if not :)

Deleted Scene

Tom Glynn-Carney x Actress!Reader

Summary: "No, but truly, I am disappointed they didn't keep it," Tom mutters rather seriously, "I totally agree that our characters kissing is 100% vital character development."

Word Count: >600

Warnings: fem!reader, interview shenanigans, whipped!both of them, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: T_T ive been having a hard time finishing my reqs so i do hope yall like em. i think its best for everyone that i keep em short cos i will lose my mind 🤪 i dont wanna give up on them so i hope you enjoy nonnie <3 Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @sloanexx @antisociablewallflower

Tom is sat on a chair on stage as he looks out to the crowd of eager fans, fans eager for answers about a particular clip that has been blazing about online. He breaks into a laugh when he hears the question regarding his lovely costar. He rubs the sides of face and chuckles into the mic, "next question please."

The crowd laughs.

Tom rubs his face and looks away as he clutches his torso. He releases a sigh then turns back to the guy who asked the question, "see... maybe I could answer that question easier if the person that question is about was here."

The crowd cheers.

Tom laughs, pulling his mic away, "I dunno, it's- it's quite awkward to... talk about your coworkers in certain ways, cause, you know, you don't want to put words in their mouth but--" he takes a moment before responding, "I would like to think," he places a hand on his chest, "that as much I as I enjoyed that kiss-"

Intense screaming.

"-she also did," he grits his teeth as he makes an apprehensive look. He breaks into a chuckle at how loud the shouts become.

Someone in the crowd screams out your ship name with Aegon.

"That being said, I do think it's a shame our kissing scene was cut out of the show-"

MEGA intense screaming.

Tom pulls his mic away and laughs through it. His jaw drops at the scream of a particularly enthusiastic fan. He points to that fan's general direction and chuckles as he says, "you get it."

"Can I just say," the fan who had asked Tom about the kissing scene in the first place speaks up. Tom looks at him as he explains that you were here at this convention two days ago and he got to ask you the same questions and-- "she said that she thought it was an integral piece of character development--"

Tom makes a face and nods.

"--and that because they cut it out, you should definitely make up for it with more kissing scenes."

The crowd loses their mind as Tom throws his head back then laughs into his hands. His face begins to turn a bright shade of red as he grins from ear to ear and his shoulders shake.

The fan holding the mic looks out to the crowd, "you can quote me on that, I'm sure there are clips online as evidence."

Tom wipes his face as he bites his lower lip.

He turns back to Tom, "do you have a response for her and everyone that ships your characters together?"

Tom blows a raspberry as he brings the mic to his mouth. With his cheeks still pink and his fingers ripping at his collar, he responds, "I'd love to kiss her."

Total and complete chaos amongst the people.

"FOR PLOT REASONS!" Tom calls out with an open mouthed smile. He shakes a hand out to the crowd as they bust their lungs with the intensity of their shouts.

He makes a cheeky expression, muttering lowly, "or maybe not--" he pulls his head back as he shakes it.

"No, but truly, I am disappointed they didn't keep it," Tom mutters rather seriously, "I totally agree that our characters kissing is 100% vital character development."

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (7/10)

Part Summary: “You sacrificed yourself for me,” she ends in a whisper. “I did what?” Knowing you don’t have any family, anyone you’re supposed to care about, the revelation stuns you. Who is Wanda to you?

Chapter word count: 3.1k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Still UST, Still gay, Still sharing a bed, Memory loss

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Next Part | Series Masterlist

-

You slide the change across the counter, offering a warm smile to the satisfied customer. “Have a nice day!” you call out with practiced cheerfulness.

You let out a sigh; only six more days until it’s Thursday again.

Without looking up, you mechanically go through the motions of preparing the register for the next customer in line.

“I’ll have the vanilla latte, please.”

The voice unmistakably belongs to the one you've been waiting to hear all week. Wanda stands on the other side of the counter, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, looking every bit as nervous as you feel the moment your eyes land on her. Your heart rate quickens, an involuntary response to the sudden nearness of her. 

Subconsciously, you open your mouth to greet her, the words, "Hi, Wanda," at the tip of your tongue. But you snap your mouth shut at the last moment, realizing the slip that almost occurred. You know her name, yes, but not because she's told you. Louisa had been the one to fill in that blank.

“Your... vanilla latte will be right up,” you manage to say, mentally kicking yourself for sounding so out of sorts. The news that she was searching for you last night still lingers in your mind. And though every part of you yearns to question Wanda about it, you're uncertain how to broach the topic with someone who's essentially a stranger.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Wanda says, her tongue fleetingly grazing her lip. The sound of her saying your name only intensifies the blush warming your cheeks.

Your hand, as it's done this countless times before, reaches for a cup. Without thinking, without asking, you write ‘Wanda’ on it, surprising even yourself. You pour the milk, steam rising as the frother does its job. A few times, you sneak glances at her, and each time, you find her already looking your way, her gaze unwavering. 

Finishing the final touches on her drink, you set it down at the pickup station where Wanda is waiting for it. She steps forward, her fingers brushing yours as she takes the cup. “Thank you, Y/N,” she responds, deliberately emphasizing your name.

As you move on to the next order, you catch Wanda out of the corner of your eye, making her way to her usual spot by the window. It's a table tucked away in a cozy nook that offers a clear view of the counter. You can't help but smile, feeling a warmth of contentment knowing she's there, within reach whenever you want to see her.

Lost in her thoughts, Wanda takes a sip of her latte. It's only when she sets the cup down does she notice the name written on it. 

In your handwriting.

How did you know her name? She never let on because she'd signed a legal document that forbade her from telling you anything, unless... unless you remembered something?

She feels her heart rate pick up, and without thinking, she stands up abruptly, nearly knocking the chair over. Taking quick strides, she's in front of the counter faster than she realizes.

“Y/N,” she starts, her voice catching a bit. You feel a blend of confusion and terror all at once. 

“Why...Why did you write my name on the cup? Do you re—”

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” Louisa interjects before you can dissolve into a heap of embarrassment on the floor.

Wanda pointedly turns to Louisa, arms crossed in front of her.

Louisa toys with the edge of her apron, her cheeks slightly pink. “Well, it's not like I straight-up told them, but Y/N might've heard your name from me... accidentally.” She gives a small, awkward shrug, trying to dodge Wanda's piercing look.

“Anyway, I've got orders to fulfill,” she adds quickly. Then with a hurried nod, she heads back to her station, leaving you face-to-face with Wanda.

You gulp, struggling to speak up. Your hands feel clammy, and you kind of wish the counter was tall enough to duck behind.

“Why would your colleague tell you my name?” Wanda asks, her tone more curious than accusatory.

Your eyes dart around, looking for an escape, but it's clear Wanda expects an answer. “Um... I might've asked about it,” you admit, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably.

“You wanted to know my name?” Wanda's voice reaches your ears while you keep your focus on the countertop.

You take a deep breath, mustering up some courage. “I hope this doesn't come off too weird, but ever since you first walked in, I've been curious about your name,” you admit, your gaze dropping even further to your shoes. “Okay, that sounded kind of creepy. Sorry about that.”

Wanda blinks in surprise, processing your words. “Oh,” is all she manages to say. Then, without another word, she returns to her seat by the window, leaving you flustered and second-guessing every word you'd just uttered. From behind the counter, you watch her, heart sinking. You watch as she sips her latte, lost in her thoughts, occasionally peering over the rim of her cup, casting glances your way.

Did you just ruin any chance of getting to know her better? It's probably not a great sign she walked out without reacting to you admitting your crush on her.

From her seat, Wanda’s mind races. A part of her is wracked with sadness. Sadness to see no recognition in your eyes still. How could someone forget something that meant so much? And more importantly, why did fate have to play such a cruel hand?

How could you forget her? Someone you risked your life for?

But then, another realization strikes her.

You wanted to know her name—for weeks now, since she started visiting you on Thursdays. Perhaps you don't remember her from your past, but your interest in getting to know her offers Wanda some reprieve. Maybe for now, she has to be content with that.

Maybe there’s no harm in what she wants to happen next. She recalls the countless secrets she’s already kept, the rules she’s broken, and the distances she's traveled just to see you. With Vision’s help, she’s been flying back and forth between states, all the while keeping it from the team. If she’s already breaking a non-disclosure agreement due to your reassignment, what's one more rule?

Taking a deep breath, she stands up, resolve steeling her nerves. She walks up to you with confident strides despite the fluttering anxiety in her chest. “Hey,” she starts, drawing your attention, “When does your shift end?”

You look up, slightly taken aback by her directness. “Um, 8 pm.”

“And after that...?”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. Why would she ask? Does she want to... spend more time with you? Before Wanda can make the situation even more awkward with her stammering, you attempt to flirt in the only way you know how, “Planning to kidnap me or something?”

Wanda's cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson, her eyes widening in surprise. “No! I just thought—”

“Oh, I didn't mean to—” you begin, regretting the choice of your playful words. 

Wanda, clearly flustered, tries to formulate a coherent response. “I was just—You know, trying to be forward for once and—” She pauses, taking a deep breath, and chuckles at her own awkwardness. “I'm not great at this, am I?”

You grin at her. “Clearly, I’m no better.”

“Do you want to, uh, grab ice cream after your shift?”

“I’d love to,” you reply, your smile growing to match Wanda's. “Meet you later outside?”

Wanda nods, anticipation gleaming in her eyes. “It's a date.”

-

You spend the last few hours of your shift in a state of giddy excitement, frequently glancing at the clock, eager for the end of your shift. Each time the bell above the door chimes, you hope it's Wanda entering. By 7:45, you're already tidying up and getting ready to leave.

8pm arrives and with a quick farewell to Louisa, you push open the door to the café, the cool evening air wrapping around you.

Just as you step onto the pavement, there's an unexpected, sharp tug on your arm, pulling you into a dark alley.

“Hey!” you shout. 

Fear courses through you, and you struggle, trying to break free. Just as one of the abductors attempts to cover your mouth with a cloth, a red blur races toward them. The abductors are thrown off their feet, their bodies slamming into the nearby wall. It happens so quickly that it's almost a blur. 

But when the dust settles, standing protectively in front of you is Wanda.

“You okay?” she asks, her tone devoid of the commanding presence she displayed earlier.

You nod, but the shock has rendered you speechless.

As you try to gather your bearings, Wanda wraps an arm around you, guiding you away from the scene. “It's not safe. We need to get out of here.”

You're both a few blocks away when you finally find your voice. “What was that? Why did they... and you? What did you do?”

She stops, turning to face you, her features softening. “I didn't want to get you involved. Not like this,” she says.

“Involved in what? What's happening?” you demand.

Wanda looks down, taking a step back. “Do you trust me?”

“I... I don't know,” you say, trying to reconcile the kind woman you've grown fond of with the apparent superhero who had just saved you.

Wanda sighs, taking your hand gently. “There's a lot you don't remember. About us, about you. It's safer for everyone if you don't, but now... it seems you're in danger regardless.”

“You're scaring me,” you whisper, holding her hand loosely.

She looks at you with pained eyes. “I promise I'll explain everything. But right now, we need to go somewhere safe.”

“My apartment. We can—”

“Absolutely not,” Wanda cuts you off sharply. “If they know where you work, they probably know where you live. They'll be waiting.”

The thought of strangers lurking in your home, waiting to ambush you, sends a shiver down your spine. "Then where?" you ask, feeling vulnerable and exposed out in the open.

“There's a place,” Wanda says. “Somewhere they won't think to look.”

She leads you through winding streets, and eventually, you find yourself at a seemingly abandoned building. Wanda carefully approaches a hidden entrance, pushing open a concealed door.

Inside, it doesn’t feel abandoned at all. The walls are lined with bookshelves, filled with titles from all genres. There's a quaint kitchenette in one corner, and a cozy living area with plush sofas and a fireplace in another. A few framed photos adorn the walls, though turned face-down so you can't quite see who's in them.

“This is...unexpected,” you comment, looking around the transformed space. “Is this where you live?”

Wanda chuckles softly, “No, I live at the Avengers compound. But Vision helped me set this place up... for emergencies.”

“For emergencies?” you echo, your eyebrows knitting together. “Like being attacked outside coffee shops?”

Wanda looks away. It doesn’t matter that you don’t remember anything. You’re still so naturally gifted at figuring her out.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But also... I was thinking about making this place a sort of... second home,” Wanda says.

You tilt your head, puzzled. “Why would you need a second home in North Carolina when you live in New York?”

She looks around the place, seemingly avoiding your gaze. But then, she turns to face you, sincerity in her eyes, “To be close to you.”

It suddenly clicks—she's been planning, making moves, all for you. As much as you'd love to revel in the fact that Wanda feels the same way, knowing she's been watching and even got a place nearby just to be close... Well, it's a lot to wrap your head around.

To say it's overwhelming is putting it mildly.

You’re not sure what to feel about these myriad of revelations. What you do feel strongly is that Wanda doesn't come across as a stalker with harmful intentions (even though saying any stalker has good intentions is a stretch).

“Look,” you say, leaning against a wall as your legs feel like they might give out. “I need to understand. Why all this? Why not just approach me or talk to me instead of... this?” You gesture around the apartment.

Wanda runs a hand through her hair, looking genuinely troubled. “It's not as straightforward as you think. Given who I am, my past, my abilities... There are dangers, complexities. And I wanted to protect you.”

“From what?” you question, your frustration steadily growing. “From you?”

“From the likes of me,” she whispers.

You take a moment, letting her words sink in. “So, all those Thursdays, at the coffee shop... you weren’t just stopping by for coffee. You were... watching me?”

Wanda sighs heavily. There’s no point in lying to you now.

“I knew where they had relocated you after you lost your memories and your powers,” she says.

“Relocated? Powers?” The words swirl in your head, conflicting with everything you thought you knew about yourself. Part of you half-expects someone to jump out and reveal this is all an elaborate prank, because how can any of this be real?

She nods slowly. “You were an Avenger, Y/N. Just like me. We fought together. We... were close. And after the incident, they moved you to keep you safe. But I needed to be sure. I needed to see for myself.”

You attempt to sift through the influx of new information, attempting to grasp each piece individually. 

“How did I lose my powers?” you ask.

Wanda’s eyes meet yours, and you’re not ready for the vulnerability displayed in them. 

“You lost your powers because you saved me,” Wanda says. Before you can even question her, she delves into the account of the attack at the compound, of finding her beneath the rubble, on the brink of death. You'd pulled the steel impaling her, using every ounce of your strength to mend her wounds and keep her alive. Once impervious to bullets, your depleted energy left you exposed.

In Wanda's eyes, it was all her fault.

“You sacrificed yourself for me,” she ends in a whisper.

“I did what?” Knowing you don’t have any family, anyone you’re supposed to care about, the revelation stuns you.

Who is Wanda to you?

Wanda swallows hard. “Your powers, Y/N, are linked to your emotions, to your very soul. And when you saw me in that state, you poured every bit of your energy, your very essence, into saving me. You brought me back from the brink, but in doing so, you lost everything that makes you... you.”

Your pulse quickens, snatches of memories pushing to the forefront: the tang of smoke, chaos everywhere, the gut-wrenching sight of Wanda, still and lifeless, and that burning urge to rescue her. It's like a fog's lifting, but everything's still a bit blurry.

“Why don’t I remember any of this?” you say under your breath, your hands balling into fists.

“There were complications. They said the exertion, combined with the traumatic event, caused a severe memory block,” Wanda murmurs. “We—we tried everything to bring your memories back. But nothing worked. And then they decided... it was safer to relocate you. To give you a normal life away from all the dangers that come with being an Avenger.”

“Who's 'they'? I can't even—” You stop mid-sentence, feeling a sharp headache building as Wanda's words start to sink in.

Wanda quickly moves closer, her hands reaching out to steady you. “Easy,” she murmurs gently. She pulls you into a nearby chair and kneels before you. “I'm sorry, this is a lot to take in all at once.”

You take a few deep breaths, trying to stave off the dizziness. “I just... I don’t remember any of it. Any of this.”

Wanda’s gaze drops guiltily. “And for that, I’m so sorry. I wish you never had to go through any of it.”

After a brief pause, she adds, “You should get some rest. It's been one hell of a day.”

Guiding you gently by the arm, Wanda leads you to the adjoining room. As you step inside, you notice the room’s simplicity: a wardrobe, a bedside table, and a single bed positioned under a window. Your eyes dart between the bed and Wanda, and you mumble, “I can take the couch.”

Wanda shakes her head, dismissing the idea, “Nonsense. You'll take the bed.”

“That's not fair. I can't take your bed,” you argue, your eyes fixed on the plush pillows and blankets.

She smiles, feeling a sense of déjà vu from the first time she took you to her room. “I'll sleep on the floor.”

“No way,” you retort. “If anyone's sleeping on the floor, it's me.”

Wanda sighs and then says, “Look, the bed's big enough for both of us. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before…”

You blink, taken aback. Another missing memory? You ponder for a moment, then give a reluctant nod. “Alright, but only if you're sure.”

Wanda grins, the edges of her lips curling up sweetly. “I am.”

She then moves to a small closet and pulls out a shirt and some sleep shorts. “Here,” she hands them to you, “they should fit.”

You thank her, examining the clothes. They look comfortable enough. Both of you stand awkwardly for a moment before you break the silence. “Shall we...?”

Wanda nods, and with a quiet agreement, both of you turn around, ensuring your backs are to each other as you change. After that, you both move to opposite sides of the bed. Before lying down, you grab a pillow and place it squarely in the middle, creating a clear boundary.

Wanda glances at the pillow barrier, a smirk playing on her lips. “Seriously?” she says with a playful lilt.

“What?” you shoot back, a bit defensive.

Her fingers tracing the edge of one of the pillows. “We used to do this, you know,” she explains vaguely.

“What?”

“We had a pillow barrier for a short time in the past. It didn't last long, but…” Wanda trails off, feeling a little silly for bringing up a memory that you clearly don’t recognize at all.

Sensing her despondency, you urge her to tell you more. “Why didn’t it last long?”

Wanda dares to meet your eyes in the darkness. “We became closer, in every way. The pillow just... became unnecessary.”

You nod slowly, processing her words. Even though you can't recall the memory, you can sense the significance of it to Wanda. 

“Well, for tonight, the pillow stays,” you murmur.

She nods, her eyes misty. “Of course. Tonight, it stays.”

Both of you turn away, but just being near each other brings a sense of peace. Given everything that's happened today, it's surprising how quickly the two of you are pulled into a deep slumber.

[what-if-i-just-did]

What about.. aliens and neurodivergents?

Like, they find out about body language, and facial expressions, and sayings, and all of that stuff. And the amount of poisons we drink for fun. And they're weirded out. And the humans don't know how to explain it, because they don't know any other.

Then the aliens meet neurodivergents. And at first they're like, wtf there are humans who don't understand humans? But then they realise, oh wait, these 'weird' humans can explain the 'normal' ones. And they start calling the neurodivergents 'h-w', 'humans weird'. So they talk about neurotypicals. And someone bring up how we poison ourselves for fun. And the neurodivergent is like, "Oh yeah, caffeine doesn't work on me, and I need like a whole wine bottle to get even tipsy and like six sigarettes for the nicotine to work but I had weed once and I got like wicked high instantly" and the alien is like wtf you're h-w you're supposed to be normal by galactic standards???

And say, the Kgrifu ship Hashalaiy has eight humans, which is almost the permitted maximum of ten, and only one of the eight are neurodivergent, and they tend to mask in public, even if the other humans aren't around. They usually turn down human applications but then they get one that states 'h-w, strong by human standards, frequently non-verbal' and they decide yes, let's hire this one, they're h-w, and if they're strong by human standards, they must be wicked-strong by galactic standards.

And this human, Bridge they call themself, introduces themselves to the other humans. The aliens look on with intrigue. Bridge keeps their eyes on the ground, talks softly, and fidgets with their sleeves. Seven of the other humans look them up and down, frown, and don't give them a second thought. The other h-w, though. Earth, her name is. She looks at them with curiousity, and exitement. When Bridge is done talking, Earth slowly walked towards them. She doesn't make eye-contact, like she usually does. "Autistic?" She asks in a soft voice. Bridge looks up, nods enthusiastically. Earth breaks out in a large grin. "ADHD with a side of OCD, on my side." The aliens don't know what those words mean. Then Bridge's expression changes slightly, and it isn't an expression any of the Kgrifu's know, but Earth immediatly replies verbally by saying "It's Earth."

The aliens observe Earth and Bridge interact the next few weeks. They're almost always around eachother, and barely talk to communicate. When they do talk, it's usually Earth- Bridge has said maybe a total of 20 sentences while around Earth, and usually they only really use one word. Rather than words, they use the 'body language' Earth claimed not to know, a few words from something called 'sign language' (an entire language of hand-movements!), simple noises such as hums, and, suprisingly.. touch. Earth will tap Bridge's right shoulder twice, or Bridge will run their fingers through Earth's hair (humans only have fur in four or five places on their bodies, and the fur on their heads are ridiculously long), and the both of them will recognise this as communication.

One time, ensign Ririfé sees/overhears (pretty much the same thing for xe's species) one of the 'normal' humans, Pietro, xe thinks his name is, look at such a non-verbal conversation with annoyance. Earth hums a specific melody, something best written as 'hmm-hmm-hmm-hhhhhhhh-hmm?', and then Bridge cocks their head to the left. Earth responds by doing a kind of half-shrug with one shoulder and saying "Tomorrow". Bridge thinks for a second before shrugging. Pietro calls out, saying: "Hey! Talk out loud, would ya!" This gets an identifiably 'angry' look from Earth, pointedly directed at Pietro, whereas Bridge, a large, muscular human, basically shrinks into themselves. Earth angles her head towards the door and looks back at Bridge. Without words exchanged, they leave. Pietro looks even more annoyed and goes over to his 'friends' (a human word for a non-biologically related pack consisting of humans (or other, sometimes!) of the general same age). Ririfé rushes to go tell the captain.

Alternatively, the aliens brand neurodivergents as the normal ones, and neurotypicals as the oddballs. The neurotypicals do not know how to handle this. I don't feel like writing a whole story for that right now but if you like the idea you should tell me.

Feel free to add on to this btw!

[yourmumsweirdshit]

Over The Years - Part 1

Artemis Crock X Reader

Masterlist

“Finally! Another girl. Only God knows we need more around here.” You say as you shake the blondes hand. “I’m Y/N.” She nods as before introducing herself. “Artemis.” The name sounds familiar. Possibly something Wonder Woman has mentioned.

“As in the Greek Goddess?” A soft smile appears across her face. “Something like that.” The rest of the team begins to disperse, heading to do their own things. “What about you? What’s your super cool hero name?” She says in a somewhat sarcastic tone. “I go by DS.” I say as she raises an eyebrow. “DS?.” She repeats, much slower. She stares at me for a few seconds so I give in. “Short for DarkStar, Robin over here thought it’d be a cool name.” I say pointing to small boy. “Hey, not my fault you lost the bet.” He smirks as he folds his arms. “DarkStar?” She repeats my words once again.

“Awful, I know. But It’s just something that got stuck with me for a while and I’ve kept it because I guess you could sort of say I’ve found some sort of comfort in it after having it for so long. I feel like it’s be weird to change it now, you know?” You say as you take a seat on the table behind you. “Doesn’t sound too bad. I like it.” She says not sounding too believable. I pause, staring at her for a few seconds. “Sure.” I say walking off, hearing her footsteps trail behind me. “No, I mean it, it’s great.” She stammers, her words sounding more sincere. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you, did I?” I respond to which she raises her eyebrows. “Come on dude, I’m not stupid.” “Never said you were.” She groans in response which causes a smile to form on my lips.

“Ready for your first mission?” I ask to which she nods. “I’ve been ready.” ‘I’ve mind linked us all so we can’t be intercepted’ Mganns voice comes through to which Artemis squints, her hand shooting up to her head. “You good?” I turn to her, placing a hand on her arm. She nods, “Yeah, it just feels weird.” She remarks standing up straight, regaining her composure. “You’ll get used to it soon.” You say as she follows you. She doesn’t respond aloud. Her voice comes through inside my head. ‘Yeah I hope so.’

“Artemis! Watch out!” I yell running towards her as someone tries to attack her from behind. Fortunately I’m able to get there in time, and use the rubble from the building to knock him down. “Thanks.” Artemis breathes out as she looks down at the man. ‘Target acquired. Team, move out.’ Kaldurs voice comes through and we go back to the bio-ship.

The silence of mount justice is deafening as we get off the ship. We all say our good nights before heading off to our room. As I’m brushing my teeth a knock on the door pulls my attention. “Come in.” The door is now slightly opened with Artemis peeking in. “Uh, hey Y/N.” She says opening the door. “Oh hey, what’s up?” I ask glancing at the time. Concern clouds my mind as we came back from the mission an hour ago. “I just wanted to thank you for saving me back there Y/N.” A wave of relief rushes over me. “No problem. We’re a team, it’s what we do. We look out for each other.” I respond to which she nods, staring at the floor for a few moments. “Is that all?” I ask grabbing her attention. “Shit sorry yeah. Kinda spaced out. Thank you again though. Seriously.” She says walking back to the door. “Goodnight Artemis.” I say as she goes through. “Goodnight Y/N.” She responds before shutting the door.

“So you’re coming to Gotham Academy?” I ask making sure I heard correctly. “Unfortunately.” She sighs. “Why now though, you’ve been on the team for like 3 months already. I feel like it should’ve been sooner.” I say to which she groans. “I don’t know and to be honest I don’t care. I really don’t wanna go.” She responds as she puts her face in her hands. “If you’re so depressed about getting to spend more time with me you can leave my room.” I say to which she perks up. “You go to Gotham?” She asks taking a seat on my bed. “Yes ma’am. Ever since 3rd grade?” I question, not fully sure. “Actually I think it was 2nd. End of 2nd grade.” I confirm to which she nods. “How is it?” She asks, her elbows on her knees as she leans into her hands. “It’s whatever, strict but the rules are easy to follow. It’s got an extraordinary education, that’s for sure, but since it is built by Bruce Wayne you would have to expect that.” She hums in understanding.

“The people are nice, sure there are some shitty ones here and there but overall much better than other places. Downside is everyone is so smart, can make you feel a bit stupid.” I say as I sit on the chair by my desk. “So what, you’re like a genius then?” She smirks making me laugh. “Oh God no, far from it. I don’t really focus much on school, I just go because I have to. I pass, which is matters.” She nods. “However I guess you’re the genius since you did get into the school.” I say to which she shakes her head. “I didn’t even apply.” “Yeah me too. Hey, at least we’re twinning.” She laughs as she raises her eyebrow at me. “You are so weird.” I smile. “So when’s your first day?” I question to which she groans to. “Tomorrow.” I wince. “That is so sad.” I say to which she just nods in agreement to. “Very.” “Don’t worry though, I’ll give you a tour.” I say to which she thanks me for.

“So over here is the field. Most people just chill out here with friends and stuff, obviously. If you want to do homework go to the library or something cause it’s noisy and you might get a ball to the face if you’re not aware of your surroundings. It’s happened to me multiple times, and it’s not like I was even studying. Anyways her is the-”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Dick running up to us with his phone out. Aware of his plans as he told me the night before, I smile for the photo as he lifts his phone snapping a picture before calling out “We’ll laugh about this someday” as he runs off. “Who was that?” Artemis looks back, trying to find where he ran off to. “Just some freshman.” I respond so which she eyes me suspiciously obviously not believing me. “Which is why you were prepared to smile for the camera?” She asks an eyebrow raised. “Not my fault you’re too slow.” I laugh. “Come on, let me show you your classes.” I continue in attempts to change the subject.

“What a great way to end the year!” Wally cheers as he stretches before speeding off to the kitchen. “I think a new years kiss is needed, right Dick?” I ask not so subtly nodding towards Zatanna. She notices and shakes her head. “Yeah, you’re right Y/N, I agree.” He says before Zatanna chuckles before pulling him in. I smile as I look at Dick melt into the kiss with Zatanna, hearing footsteps approach I turn my head. ��Happy New Years Artemis.” I say as she walks up to me. “Happy new years Y/N.” She hesitates before going in for a hug. I welcome it. She holds me tight for a few seconds before slowly releasing her grip on me. “Come with me.” She says as she pulls my hand not really giving me as she drags me to the top of Mount Justice.

“So what are we doing here?” I ask as she nervously smiles. “I wanted to give you something.” She pulls out a book with the words, ‘US’ in bold letters. I open look back at her. A confused smile taking over my features. “I saw the way you helped the kids with their scrap books on the mission. So I thought I’d make one for you. It was meant to be for Christmas but it wasn’t ready yet.” She says as I flip through the pages filled with selfies of us taken at school and a few taken on missions. Some with the team and others just the two of us. There’s a few solo photos of me which I didn’t even know were taken. I keep flipping through the book and find words beside a few images. Some mentioning the date and what was going on the moment they were taken.

‘Y/N before failing her exam.’ With a picture of me and her smiling, my hands wrapped around my stationery as I hold my thumbs up. And the next image is a screenshot from a video I remember quite vividly. Her writing beside the picture saying ‘Y/N after failing her exam.’ With me at the desk looking up Artemis shocked as there’s a 53% circled on the paper. I flip the page to see a picture of me with my face in my hands as there’s books upon books around me. ‘Tutoring Y/N cause she might stay back a year.’ With a sad face drawn beside it. The next image is of me pouting as her hand is in the corner frame waving at me. ‘Justice League forcing Y/N to study by not letting her on a mission.’

Flipping through the pages I see snapshots of our lives together over the past 8 months. I see the way our friendship has bloomed as so obviously shown between our interactions in videos and photos. You can see in our body language, the first photos more separated and shy to the recent ones of us hugging or unable to be separated, even in team photos we were side by side. I continue to flip through them before stopping on a page. A recent one.

‘SHE PASSED!’ It’s a screenshot of a video too, a selfie as I kiss her cheek. That was one of the most stressful days of my life, and that says a lot considering I’m risking my life on the daily. “That was a good day.” Artemis speaks up as she notices my interest in the page. “One of the best days. I can’t believe I not only passed, but with flying colours too.”

“Found it.” The teacher says as she picks up the paper from her desk and walking towards the back in the now empty classroom. “Are you scared?” Artemis asks pointing her phone at me as the teacher puts the exam face down and walks away. I smile nervously as I look down at the paper, scared to flip it and look at the result. “Obviously. It’s the make it or break it. Am I coming with you or am I staying behind?” I say before she puts her hand on mine. “Hey, you studied for this and did your best, so no matter what happens it means nothing.” She says softly, I nod, taking in her words. A silence sits between us for seconds before she speaks again sounding more like usual. “But I know that’s absolutely enough. Now look at it!” Artemis says nervously but unable to contain her excitement as it slips through.

“Okay, okay.” I say as I grab the paper, slowly flipping it as she leans back, attempting to get the result and my face as I look at the front page. My jaw drops. “Oh my God.” I whisper as I slowly turn to her. “What, what is it? I can’t see the paper.” She looks over her phone as I turn the paper towards her. “I GOT 98% I PASSED!” I scream and she instantly cheers, flipping the camera to selfie mode, now on both of us as we scream with excitement. “I knew it! I knew you could do it!” She says and I can’t control myself as I grab her face pulling her face towards me and kissing her cheek. “YOU ARE AMAZING!” I say as I pull away, she smiles unable to speak as I stand up, unable to sit still.

I smile at the image, only now realising how red she was, she’s got this sort of bashful smile on face too. I think I need access to her camera roll cause she’s got all these moments capturing things I didn’t notice. Another perspective of our lives.

I peel my eyes away from the book to look at Artemis. Her eyes already on mine. The moon shined on her so perfectly you could mistake her for the Goddess instead. “This is so beautiful. Thank you. Truly.” I say to which she smiles softly. “You know I’d do anything for you right?” She says, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I’d do the same for you.” She smiles. “I know. But I feel like I haven’t said it or shown you enough, so I wanted to remind you because you mean everything to me Y/N. You’re my best friend.”

“Y/N, it’s been years, you need to tell how you feel.” Dick says as we walk through the gymnasium of the school. “It hasn’t been that long.” You respond as you take a seat on the bleachers. “You met when I was 13, I am turning 19 this year, you guys have been dancing around it for too long.” He takes a seat beside me. You pause as his words sink in, you can remember meeting her like it was yesterday. Everything with her is memorable, it feels fresh, as if it all just happened. You forget that you’ve quite literally grown up with her.

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean I liked her the whole time.” You lean back, laying on the seats behind you. “But you did and I know that.” Dick says as he copies your move. “Thinking she’s pretty and having a crush on her is 2 different things.” You respond, denying his words. “Okay yeah, sure, let’s say you’re right. Maybe not from the day you met, but you can’t lie and say it didn’t take you long before you fell for her. What was it? 6 months.” You sigh in defeat. He’s right.

“I don’t know Dick.” I say as I look towards her, the kids laughing as she struggles make the bracelet. “Dude she’s literally in love with you. Just go for it.” He says following your eyes. As if she has a sixth sense she looks up to you. Smiling as your eyes meet and giving a wave before putting her attention back on the kids. You stare at her for a few more seconds before looking back at Dick. “But what if I lose it all.” “And what if you don’t.” He says on a level that competes with the flash.

“Just trust me Y/N. She’s into you, and I don’t want you to wait too long and lose out on her because you’re perfect for each other. You both know that and everyone around you knows that. And as much as I love Artemis I love you more, and I’m not ready to see your heart get broken if she can’t hold out for you any longer.” He grabs my hands, his relaxed persona no longer there as he now faces me, pleading with me to believe him. I take in his words, gathering my thoughts before looking back at her as she laughs with the kids. “I’d break my own heart if it means not losing her.” He sighs, but nods, understanding my words. “Well then, I hope for all our sakes she tells you how she feels.”

[hammed-burger08]

| Selcouth | Chapter three: Dread |

Platonic! Yandere! Alien x reader

Warnings: Yandere behavior, violence, death

Summary: While recovering a space capsule your astronaut team discovers an intelligent life form that seems to be a little too attached to you.

Word count: 1,975

Chapters: | one | two | three | four |

A/n: thank you guys for all the support! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also let me know if you want to see some of the drawings I've made of Gabriel! Thank you for reading <3

~

Waking up, you deeply stretch your limbs. With a yawn, you get up and get ready for the day. Walking into the common room, you first notice that David isn't there—weird, David is usually the first one up and eating breakfast. Shrugging, you walk toward the capsule.

The first thing you notice is that the door is wide open. Alarm bells go off in your head. You are 100% sure that you locked the door the last time you were in there; you even triple-checked the door just to make sure. With a shaky step, you make your way into the capsule.

Gabriel isn't in the enclosure.

You feel your heart rate quicken as you glance around the room.

Gabriel isn't in the room.

You feel your breathing quicken as you start panicking an insurmountable amount of dread consumes you. There is a carnivorous alien that can hypnotize people loose on the ship.

As quickly as you can, you run out of the capsule to go find either David or Isla.

After a brief search, you find David staring at a wall in the pilot's quarters his back turned toward you.

"David, it's gone!"

"What do I do?" you ask, still not getting a response from him. David is just sitting there completely motionless.

"Hello?" you call out, walking closer to David.

"David, I'm about to start really freaking out. Please say something!" You can feel your chest tighten every passing second that David doesn’t answer.

"David?" you ask. It is very out of character for David to be quiet on a regular day, so it's even weirder for him to be quiet while you're asking him questions.

"Are you okay?" You start to feel extremely concerned.

"My apologies… (Y/n), I feel fine," David says, finally turning to look at you. You flinch at his use of your name. Within the year that you have known him, you have only ever heard him use your name once. However, just hearing his voice clams you down.

"Um, okay. What do you think we should do though?" you ask, deciding it's better to focus on how Gabriel is gone rather than David's strange behavior.

"What should we do about what?"

"What we should do about Gabriel being loose on the ship—did you not hear anything I was saying?" you say, scoffing. Realizing that what you said was probably mean, you quickly apologize.

"Sorry, that came out rude," you say, looking at your feet.

"It's quite alright, (Y/n). I do suppose that I was not listening. Although, I do ask that you do not speak to me in such a way." First off, odd language. You don't ever recall David saying anything like that to you before, much less in that way. Second off, you have definitely said worse stuff to him before, and he has never responded like that.

"Nevertheless, I do suppose that we attempt to find Gabriel. Who knows what he might be doing as of now," David says, standing up and walking towards the door. Nodding your head, you follow him.

"Okay… but we should probably find Isla first."

Both you and David walk out of the pilot's quarters to the opposite side of the station. You find Isla in her workplace fixing something.

"Hey Isla—" you start to say, attempting to greet her.

"What do you want?" Isla rudely questions, interrupting you.

"Oh, well I guess I'll just go fuck myself then." You say grinding your teeth. You have been so stressed out ever since you woke up, so if she was going to treat you like this, then you weren't going to entertain her.

"Isla dearest, something has happened in the ship. The creature is out of its cage." Seeing that you were done talking to Isla, David began to explain what happened.

Isla turns to you, her face curled up in an ugly snarl.

"What?! How could you let this happen, you incompetent little shit!" Isla screams at you.

"I locked the capsule last night—hell—I even checked the cameras before I left! I have no idea how Gabriel got out!" you say. Even if you don't want to entertain her, you still want to defend yourself.

"Well, that thing is out now, so go fix your problem before I have to do something!" Isla says, getting closer to your face.

"Dude, it could literally be anywhere in this station. Could you please just help us find it?" you say, asking her for even the tiniest bit of help.

"No, this is your freaky little science experiment. You go find it on your own." Isla says while shoving you. She has a fair point, but still, since it is out of the capsule, it's now everyone's problem.

"You literally know the layout of this place better than anyone else. Can you *please* just help us or at least contact the nearest space station?" Even if you don't like Isla, you do have to admit that she is extremely knowledgeable.

"Contacting the space station will do little to help us in this situation, I presume, and if Isla is so set on not helping, then we should not make her," David says, butting into the conversation in hopes of ending it.

"But—" you begin, trying to argue.

"Let us leave her be," David says, grabbing your arm and walking away. You don't move and instead try to pry his hand off your arm.

"Come along now, (Y/n). We have much work to do." David moves his hand from your arm and instead wraps his arm around your shoulder, leading you away from a glaring Isla.

Once in the hallway, you begin to air out your frustration to David.

"She's such a bitch! How can she be so bitter?" You cannot wrap your head around Isla's attitude even if you tried.

"I don't understand how she could be so mean when I've literally done nothing to her. And the fact that she won't help, I just—" you say, working yourself up again.

"(Y/n) dear, please calm down. Being frustrated will not help us do the task at hand," David says, seeing your agitation.

"I've been meaning to ask you, why are you talking like that?" Now that you and he are finally alone, you question his odd choice of words.

"Like what, dear?"

"I don't know, like really proper, I guess."

"Would it not be more prudent for us to concentrate on securing the space station rather than discussing my choice of words?" It feels like he busted out a dictionary to say that sentence.

"Uh—okay. Well, um, what side do you want to take first?"

"I will take the right side of the station. I would rather not have you around Isla for the time being."

"Okay, please tell me if you see Gabriel anywhere though." You and David walk your opposite ways.

The White Sparrow, your space station, is made up of 11 different sections which can be split up into either the right side or the left side. On the right, there is the technician's room, storage, security, cargo, and command. In the dead center is the common room which holds the escape pods. To the left are the pilot's quarters, research facility, viewing deck, medical facility, and the capsule.

After walking through each room and locking every door and setting the alarms, you make your way over to where David is.

"Is everything on lockdown?" you ask.

"Yes." You and David begin walking.

"Great, are you in the mood to see Isla one more time before bed? Because I know I'm not." You have to let Isla know that each of the doors has an alarm on them, so she can put her passcode in.

"I believe that the conversation you are about to have with her will likely be considerably less distressing than the one that occurred earlier," David says in what you think is an attempt to cheer you up.

"What makes you think that? Because she makes me want to rip my hair out whenever I speak to her," you say, giving a chuckle after.

"I may have had a little chat with her while I was locking the station." That's definitely not concerning at all! You look over at David's face.

"Oh my god, what did you say to her?" you ask, hoping that David didn't just embarrass you.

"Nothing much," David says, shrugging.

You and David are now right in front of where Isla is. With a deep breath in, you put your passcode in and open the door.

"Hey Isla," you say in a not-so-cheery tone.

"Hey, David, can you please leave for a second? I want to discuss a few things with (Y/n)." Before anything else even leaves her mouth, you know whatever she has to say to you next is gonna be some bullshit.

"Sure," David answers, walking out the door and shutting it.

"You fucking whore—" You genuinely are taken aback by that.

"Whoa, where did that come from?" you ask, legitimately shocked.

"You know exactly where it's coming from. First, you act all buddy-buddy with David, then you come in here acting like you did nothing wrong. As if you didn't tell him to say that to me.

"What are you talking about? I don't even know what he said?"

"You're pathetic. You knew since we were training together that I liked David, yet you still went after him. No wonder your ex killed himself. You probably tried cheating on him, you attention whore." About a year ago, you and Isla trained together in some sort of astronaut camp. There, you guys were inseparable, constantly doing things together. She was your best friend, so you trusted her, and one day you vented to her about what happened in your past.

That turned out to be a huge mistake. One day she told you about her crush, David. So, you being the good friend you were, attempted to be a matchmaker. Long story short, you got David to talk to Isla, and Isla got the wrong idea and somehow thought you were trying to 'steal her crush away'. So, she told David that your ex killed themselves and that you were cursed and that if he loved you, then he would die too. She then stopped talking to you and treated you like shit, all over a misconception.

"What...? Is that really the reason you have been treating me so poorly? Well, newsflash: I never liked David. I've never seen him as more than a friend, so for you to say that, for you to bring up my ex..." you say, your breathing quickening and tears welling up in your eyes.

"How could you...?" you ask, taking a shaky step back.

"Forget this, I'm leaving. I'll go contact the station myself." Turning away from her, you hold yourself, rushing out of the room. At this point, you are now full-on sobbing.

"Oh dear, what happened?" David asks, seeing that you were in extreme distress.

"She—! She..." you try to get out. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest; you were hyperventilating. Your throat felt so tight as if someone was trying to strangle you.

"You need to calm down. (Y/n) dear, please look me in the eye." Just barely hearing him, you look David in the eye. Even with your vision all blurry, you could see the white glow coming from his eyes. You've seen this glow before.

"Gabriel...?" you feel your head get extremely fuzzy and you pass out.

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn in Baldur's Gate 3: Chapter 1

Plot: You’ve been reincarnated.  It’s the realization you come to when the tiefling offering you a health potion introduces himself as Tav.  You died and your soul revived in Baldur's Gate 3, at the beginning of the game no less.  But you only have the memories of your past life on Earth, and none of your current one.  

Tav invites you to join him on his journey, despite your lack of abilities or maybe because of it.  You might as well go along with it; where else would you go with no memory of who you currently are, or knowledge of anything that lies outside of the narrative?

There is much to discover about your life in Baldur's Gate, and what transpires relies on the tiefling leading your group as Tav.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This is very self-indulgent so there will by a lot of Gale and Astarion.

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

“I’m Tav.”

He’s a tiefling, you recall.  Tall and bulky with curled horns.  The dark gray skin tells you he’s descended from Mephistopheles, and his simple leather gear tells you he’s a barbarian.  Huh.  Yeah, that makes sense, he’s Tav, the hero of the game!  Or…the villain?  Your head pounds as memories flood back to you—tieflings, bards, goblins, vampires—you, sitting at a computer debating which choice would garner you the most favour with your companions in…

“Baldur’s Gate,” you mumble.  You slap a hand over your mouth, staying on your knees as you blink at the tiefling.  At Tav.  He arches his brows and kneels beside you, offering you a small vial of red liquid.

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate, too?” he asks.  “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Without much thought you take the already opened vial from him and swallow it down in one small gulp.  With a deep breath the pounding in your head subsides and you can think a little clearer.  Maybe not clear enough to fully comprehend that you’re currently in a video game, or that there’s a small wriggling behind your left eye which means…

More images come to you, a mind flayer holding a worm with too many teeth to your eye,  a githyanki—Lae’zel—pointing a sword at you, and then falling from the ship.  The nautiloid.  Tav’s memories of the ship.

Tav winces as the visions fade.  “Guess you got one of those, too.”

A chill runs down your spine, through each and every bone of your body until the squirming thing behind your eye stops movement all together.  

“I uh…”  You look around at the crash area, taking in the rocks and splotches of fire dotting the land on one side and water on your left, until you meet the gaze of a raven-haired half-elf.  

“This one doesn’t seem to be all there,” she says.  Her voice is as smooth and condescending as you remember, and you find it endearing despite the insult.

“Give them a moment,” Tav responds over his shoulder.  “It’s a lot to take in.”

Yes, especially because this is most definitely a dream.  A very vivid, painful, exciting, insane dream.

“What’s your name?” 

You fear all you can do is blink.  You tell them your name, voice as shaky as your body.  There’s a tremble in your hands that you can’t control, even with a hard grip on the now empty vial.  “And thank you…for the potion.”

Tav lifts, holding a large sharp-nailed hand out to you.  “Can you stand?”

You nod, taking his hand and letting him lift you to your feet. You let your hand drop to dust off your clothes, nothing that you remember wearing.  The last thing you recall was going to bed in a tank top and shorts but you’re now wearing a dark blue overcoat atop loose fitting pants and a fitted shirt.  The borders of the coat are stitched with gold swirls, and based on the softness of everything you wear it has to be expensive.  Somehow, after everything (whatever the Hells that involved) you are quite clean.  Not to mention the bag that hangs at your hip beneath your coat is quite heavy, and another bag that wraps around your waist and sits at your back has the contents clinking together when you move.

You look like a caster of some kind, but you can’t tell which.  You can’t feel anything that would indicate your abilities, but some cold sensation at the back of your mind tells you you can do something.  Like another limb sits in your mind, waiting to be moved.

“We don’t have time for stragglers,” Shadowheart says.

“Yet I helped you,” Tav counters.  There’s a playfulness to his tone that doesn’t match his furrowed brow.  

Shadowheart concedes.  “Fair enough.  You’re welcome to join us in our search for a healer.”

You nod.  Yes, a healer!  They’ll be able to—pain strikes your temples as another memory clouds your mind.  

A truck careening at you, horn blaring—a sharp hit of adrenaline and then…here.

“Oh my God I’ve been isekaied.”  Your revelation earns you quizzical looks from Tav and Shadowheart.  Reincarnated.  Just like those cheesy but addicting books about a girl being reincarnated as a villainess in some cheesy addicting romance novel.  You press your hands to your face, feeling familiar features but still wary.  “Quick, what do I look like?”

“A lunatic,” Shadowheart answers.

Tav hesitates, but describes you.  You.  Not some other face, not a character you recall from the game but you.  Regular human you. You sigh, relief flooding over you.

“As…interesting as this conversation is, we should get moving,” Tav says.

“Agreed.”  Shadowheart doesn’t move until Tav heads to the only direction you can go, near part of the crashed ship.  

“We need to find Lae’zel,” Tav adds.

“Less agreeable,” Shadowheart says.  “She’s probably long gone by now, if not dead.”

“Well we should still keep an eye out.”

You follow the two into the still burning wreckage where they suddenly stop and draw their weapons—Tav a large axe, and Shadowheart her mace and shield.  

“Intellect devourers,” you conclude.  Three sit at the far end of the ship, scurrying towards you at a frightening speed.  With one slash of his axe Tav takes out two of them before they can get close to you, and Shadowheart smacks the other one down.  All defeated in what?  Three seconds? 

The three brains bleed out and flop to their sides, clawed limbs twitching.

“Vile creatures,” Tav says, holstering his axe.  You expect the two to keep moving and check the nearby bodies for gold and supplies, just as you do in the game, but they don’t.  They walk right past the dead man without rifling through his pockets and as you step by you feel your stomach lurch.  To see a bloody disfigured body in reality felt very different from the game. The vacant eyes staring upward, pieces of flesh torn from his stomach…It isn’t until a hand covers your eyes and directs you forward do you realize you’d stopped.  

“Just keep moving,” Tav says, keeping his hand by the side of your head so you can’t see the body.  When his hand falls you keep your eyes on his swinging tail, and follow after him as he turns and moves into the sun.

Barrels and a broken down cart let you know what’s coming next—who’s coming next.  

Your excitement strikes you then, still shaky and confused but awake.  You’re in Baldur’s Gate 3, with Tav and Shadowheart, and hopefully all the others.  

Your eyes scan the water nearby, debris scattered everywhere until you spot a dagger on the dock.  Tav and Shadowheart watch you dart over and pick it up.

“I thought you would be one to attack with words, not knives,” Shadowheart says coolly.

You stash the dagger in a boot, smiling at Shadowheart.  Gods. She was pretty as pixels but seeing her in the flesh, she was something else.  “Well, words aren’t always the best weapons.”

“Can I get some help?”

You recognize the voice without needing to see the speaker.  Astarion is just up the hill waiting to ambush Tav and…kill him depending on how he answers.  

Based on how Tav darted ahead at the sound of someone in trouble (albeit fake trouble) you figured it wouldn’t turn out too terribly.  So they had skipped over robbing the dead, and didn’t explore every corner of the map looking for treasure chests…that didn’t mean things would be different with each companion intro, right?  There’s a plot here, and it has to be followed to a certain degree…right?  There were no screen pop ups to decide dialogue and you all appeared to have free will, which was good.

Right?

Your thoughts did little to comfort you as you climbed the hill to find Astarion already pointing his blade at Tav who was apparently perceptive enough to dodge rolling around in the ground with the vampire.  You stopped next to Shadowheart, at ease just watching the situation unfold.

Both men twitch and writhe as their parasites connect.  When their visions fade Astarion questions it, and Tav answers honestly about being in the mind flayer ship and what the worms can do.

You study Astarion’s face as he realizes that he’s somewhat free, but there’s a time limit to the incubation period.  Tav offers for him to join your trio, and just like you remember, he agrees.

“Splendid,” Astarion says.  “Lead on.”

At that the vampire meets your eyes.  Icicles dance up your spine until they pierce the back of your head, making you wince and hold a hand against the spot.  

You grunt at the sudden pain, the sound quiet but drawing attention all the same.  You wave the eyes away from you with your free hand.  “Sorry.  Head still hurts a bit from…having a tadpole put inside it.”

Nobody questions that, though you know it was something else.  Every time your eyes even flit in Astarion’s direction you can feel a push at the back of your head, that phantom limb clenching as if trying to stretch and release itself.  You wish you could say it was the tadpole, but it feels nothing like when you connected with Tav.  

“Well let’s just try to keep our worms separate,” Astarion says, seemingly at you.  “I don’t need to see what’s in your head anymore than you do mine.”

His eyes linger a moment on Tav.  You nod your agreement though he isn’t looking at you now.

“I saw some footprints along another path,” Tav announces.  “There could be other survivors.”

There doesn’t seem to be any question as to who is in charge.  Shadowheart insists on searching for a healer but with a quick convincing from Tav you’re all headed towards a strange looking purple sigil.  

“Looks unstable,” Shadowheart says.

“Best left alone,” Tav agrees.  It was just like a friend's first play through that thought the sigil would kill them, so they never had Gale join their party.  It wasn’t a totally unfounded theory—swirling, sparking voids did seem like something that shouldn’t be touched but everything in this world had a purpose.  Anything out of place or, well, glowing, was important to the story.

But then the group is walking toward the bodies of three goblins discussing supplies.  

They’ll steal from goblins but not humans?  Seems odd but maybe you’re the weird one being so willing to pillage the dead, no matter their race.  You frown, looking back at the sigil and knowing who is inside.  “You sure you don’t want to see why it’s like that?”

Astarion is observing his nails while Tav loots the goblin bodies.  Shadowheart kicks one of the bodies out of her way once fully plundered and looks back at you.  “Be my guest.  But if you get sucked in don’t expect me to come looking for you.”

“I’ll come look for you,” Tav states with a cheeky grin, hands inside a dead goblins pockets. It makes you smile back, so…kind and disarming.  You recall barbarians didn’t have high charisma, but Tav seemed to have it in spades.  Or perhaps your recent head injury was clouding your judgement—after all your reaction to being reincarnated, to being dead, was quite tame. 

“Ah, a true hero.”  Astarion looks between you and Tav, eyes narrowing as if trying to solve a puzzle.

You turn your attention back to the sigil, taking a small step towards it when an arm pops out. 

“A hand?” a voice calls.  “Anybody?”

You slap the waxing hand immediately without a thought.

“Perhaps I should have been more specific,” Gale says.  “A helping hand please?”

“Oh, right!”  You quickly take his hand in yours and tug to no avail.  

“Keep trying!”

You pull harder, wondering if you were going to end up holding a severed arm in your hand as the sigil sparks brighter and buzzes with energy.  You choose to ignore those thoughts and keep trying to free the wizard. 

With one final pull the person connected to the arm comes tumbling out of the sigil.  If it had been Tav to pull Gale free you’re certain it would have been a smooth experience, and he would have stepped back and dodged getting shoved to the ground by the sudden lack of resistance.  But it wasn’t Tav, it was you, and instead of dodging the wizard your feet tangled with each other and you both went down. 

The wind is knocked from your lungs with Gale atop you, his forehead connecting with your sternum and leaving you gasping for air.  Strands of his hair fall onto your lips, soft and smelling of something spicy while his left arm is wrapped around your middle, the other braced against the ground.  You realize he’d been trying to protect you on the way down, but wasn’t quick enough to cover the back of your head, which now throbs from the fresh battering.  

“Ouch,” you croak, voice barely making it out of your throat.  Footsteps approach until Tav, Shadowheart, and Astarion are hovering over you, each with a small smile.  Well…Astarion’s is more of a smirk…

Gale pushes himself off of you and before he can say anything Tav has his hands beneath your underarms and is pulling you up.  His hands slide to your back until you’re steady enough to stand on your own and thank him, rubbing at the back of your head again. 

Throbbing is better than stabbing, you suppose.

“Apologies,” Gale says as he smooths his hair back, “I’m usually much better at this.”

You continue to rub the back of your head as he and Tav exchange dialogue, much of it going in one ear and out the other as you focus on the pain radiating in your skull.  You squeeze your eyes shut and let your hands fall to your sides, giving in to the fact you can’t rub away whatever sensation is there.

“And you my friend.”  Gale is in front of you, drawing your gaze to meet his.  “I am truly sorry for landing on you, but extremely grateful for the help.”

You can’t stop your smile at him anymore than you could with Tav.  “Happy to help.”

His eyes stay on you a moment longer than appropriate, but when they drape down your body you think he’s almost sizing you up.  For a fight, or romance, or maybe to steal your coat you aren’t sure.

You look to Tav for direction, waiting for the leader to…well, lead.  Lae’zel should be next, but that’s when you notice you have an extra member.  With you there it makes five travellers, but nobody has been sent to camp yet.  Wherever that is.  While you’d like a moment to sit and organize your thoughts, the idea of heading somewhere on your own was terrifying. 

“I hear voices over that ridge,” Astarion announces.  Everyone turns towards where he’s looking, just a few feet ahead where the path winds up and you know you’ll find two tieflings looking at Lae’zel.  But you can’t hear them yet.

“Let’s check it out.”  Tav is already moving before anyone can object.  And like ducklings you follow him with Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope

[pacexlikexaxghost]

@goldenbeastkeeper

They were in no hurry to head out to the desert, to investigate the place Lion told them about. Especially not after the way everything went down with Bismuth.

Pearl is hesitant to do it now, at the start of July. Mere days away from-

The corrupting light flashes in her mind, and she has to close her eyes and carefully control her breathing, four seconds in, hold, four seconds out. She puts a hand on Garnet's arm to be a guide as they walk through the sand, since she's walking blind with her eyes closed.

Garnet knows this time of year is difficult. It's not exactly enjoyable for her either; they've talked about it before. But they can't just stop everything every year for this. They manage, and Pearl can manage now. But stars, she wishes they weren't doing this in July.

❝We're here,❞ Garnet says just as they stop, so Pearl doesn't run into her.

Pearl doesn't open her eyes yet, as she hears Steven and Amethyst start to rummage around.

❝Are you okay?❞ Garnet asks quietly, and Pearl nods.

❝I only need a second,❞ she responds. ❝You know how this time of year is.❞

❝Mm.❞ And then Garnet walks away from her too.

❝Hey, who's Nora?❞ Steven shouts, and Pearl opens her eyes.

❝That was the other name Rose and your father had in mind for you,❞ she says, searching around for Steven in the crumbled building, but her eyes catch instead on the large pink structure on the other side of the only intact wall.

❝Her ship-❞ She gasps, before her hands clasp over her mouth.

All this time. All this time. Pearl had assumed that the other three Diamonds took Pink's ship with them! That if she still had it, Rose would have SAID SOMETHING!

Rose knew how trapped Pearl has felt on Earth at times. And she still had her ship. She just let Pearl suffer for no reason. It's not as if Pearl wanted to go home, just out there. To visit, to feel like she had the choice to live on Earth, rather than being stranded.

She takes several steps backward. No one has noticed her distress yet, too busy picking through the piles of stuff Rose has left here. She can't let them see. It's not as if she can explain. Not really.

They don't know that it's Rose's ship.

Lock it down. Stop breathing. Control it. DON'T FEEL IT.

She grabs her own wrist to forcibly yank her hand away from her mouth, and heads over to Garnet.

❝Garnet,❞ she says low, and urgently.

❝You can't handle this today?❞ Garnet says, before Pearl even finds the specific excuse to leave now.

❝I'm sorry. I thought I'd be able to but-❞ She points at the ship without looking at it. Pink Diamond's ship. ❝I can't.❞

Garnet takes off her visor, looking intently in the direction Pearl is pointing. ❝... Is... that Pink Diamonds ship? Did Rose steal it?❞

She looks back at Pearl, who is working very diligently to not completely break down right here. To keep the feelings under lock and key.

Garnet knows that Pink Diamond is a very bad topic for Pearl. That she's easily and deeply upset by any mention of her. She doesn't know the half of it, but that has, at least, made it easier to avoid the topic over the years. And it's an out, now.

❝... Go. It mostly seems like junk here anyway. Aside from... that. We can handle it.❞

Pearl doesn't need to hear it twice before taking off. Garnet will explain for her to Amethyst and Steven.

She barely away from them when the tears start, and even in a full sprint, she's sobbing by the time she reaches the warp pad.

ALL THIS TIME. Rose still had her ship ALL THIS TIME. THE ENTIRE TIME.

She warps out, going up to the temple hand, because hopefully she won't be disturbed up there.

She could just claimed to have stolen it, as Garnet immediately assumed, if she was worried about the others asking questions. She didn't have to hide the ship from ANYONE.

She especially didn't have to hide it from Pearl.

She hid it from Pearl. Why would she-

Get it together Pearl. They're not going to be out there forever. You CAN'T BE LIKE THIS WHEN THEY GET BACK!

WHY WOULD SHE HIDE IT!?

Stop- stop- stop- AH SHE'S SUPPOSED TO CALL VALOR!

She fumbles her brand new phone out of her gem, and it takes several attempts for her to open the contacts and call him with how badly her hands are shaking.

She doesn't really have much coherent to say when the call is answered, choking out something about Lion and the desert in between sobs, clinging to her phone like a lifeline.

[starvine]

☾ ⋆* kiss it better

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!omaticaya reader

genre: fluff, angst

synopsis: all you wanted to do was serve your people. however, when you get injured, your mission is cut short. neteyam insists upon patching you up and decides to explain his concerns for your well-being and future together.

warnings: battle stuff, guns, blood, battle injuries, medical jargon, stitches, minor swearing (?), allusions to mating/sex ig, aged-up neteyam

word count: 7.9k

notes: IT’S HERE! i’m very excited to have started writing again, and although i’m very casual about when i write, i hope to be somewhat consistent lol. enjoy this for now, i have more planned for the future! i hope you all enjoy, pls reblog/comment/etc if you feel so inclined <33

The air was tense today, thick with disciplined focus as you keep your ears alert for any incoming airships. Reeking of smoke and burning metal, a scent that is foreign and unpleasant to your nose, you remain aware of everything and anything. Gray clouds billowing and a pungent smell that cling to the back of your throat like a hand with a vice grip—nothing was natural. 

Tilting your forehead forward, you hope your visor, decorated with teeth and interwoven pieces, will shield your eyes from the wind. You hold your bow tightly, the wood smooth against your fingers as you use your other hand to guide your ikran swiftly through the air. 

“Calm, calm,” you soothe her, tapping your fingers along her strong neck. 

You’re anxious today. Not because of the imminent arrival of the Sky People, their ships ready to fire metal bullets at you at any second; you’ve dealt with that many times before. No, the reason you’re nervous is because of Neteyam. 

Today is Neteyam’s first day participating in the raid—well, his first raid on the ground with his father’s permission—rather than being a part of the aerial surveillance team. You tried to insist that you should accompany him, but, due to his wishes, you remained in the air beside his mother. 

 “Do you see anything yet?” Neytiri’s voice asks over the intercom. 

Bringing your fingers to your throat to press the responding button, you reply, “Nothing yet.” 

“I’m going to fly down to help gather some of the gear. You stay here,” she orders, raising her bow to signal that she and her ikran were descending. 

“Let us know if you spot any bogeys. We’ve got some heavy-duty gear and need as much time as possible,” Jake informs you over the intercom. 

“Roger that, sir,” you say, steering your ikran closer to where the enemy would most likely be approaching. 

Ears twitching back and forth, you attempt to pick up the whir of an aircraft amongst the orders commanded, the creaks and minor explosions occurring from the Meg-Lev train your people have intercepted, and the wind blowing past you. You hope that maybe you could track a scent, sniffing the air a couple of times to no avail. It’s all smoke and metal. The skies were calm, except for your ikran’s screeching, however, they couldn’t be for long. There was no way those demons would allow your people to escape that easily. 

“Hey,” Neteyam breathes over the intercom, a slight huff of your name. You could hear the smile on his face. “How’re things looking up there?” 

“What happened to using my code name?” you question, peering over your ikran in an attempt to find him along the ground. “I’ll tell you if I see anything. I know how to do my job, you know.” 

“Just double checking,” 

You scoff, guiding your ikran to the right. “Maybe you should focus on gathering all of the gear instead,” 

“Oh, really? Maybe you should-”

Suddenly, your ears flex forward, focused on the faint whirring of something mechanical and man-made; something that was not naturally occurring within your world. 

“Airships spotted! Everyone, move!” you shout over the intercom. You yelp out into the open air, pumping your bow in tandem with the three shouts you release to alert your fellow brothers and sisters in battle. 

Just as people begin clambering for their ikrans and direhorses, the two Scorpions start firing. The relentless pop of military guns fills your ears, causing your tail to swish frantically and your ears to perk forward. 

Using a high pitch, you signal for your ikran to dive, swooping up and under the two fighter pilots. 

“Do not engage! I repeat, do not engage! I want minimal casualties today,” Jake commands over the intercom, the background full of shouts and grunts. 

“Jake, I’ve got to take out these two airships. They’re already taking down ikrans,” you spoke, peering up at the airships as you stealthily soar below. 

Just then, Neteyam responds. 

“No! Listen to my father, do not engage. I can lead the people to safety,” 

“There won’t be any people to lead if I don’t take these airships down.” 

Neteyam groans your name in warning, the sound of shouts heard from all around. “Would you listen for once?” 

Jake barks your name, frustrated and frantic. “Get out of there! Get back to the High Camp!” he orders. You begin mapping out the plan of your attack. “That is a direct order!”

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you respond, ignoring all that comes after. 

Your ikran shoots straight up into the air, coming close to the tail-end of the Scorpion gunship. You arch over the top of the gunship, upside down and looping over to the front side. The sun high in the sky and its beams creating a glare on the glass makes it difficult for you to spot the pilot. Upon finding his location, you draw the string of your bow taught, ready to fire. 

“Incoming! Enemy on-”

You shriek upon release. The arrow flies straight through the glass, nailing your target right in the chest. 

The gunship begins to tilt forward, preparing for its decline. As a hunter and warrior, it was your duty to pay respects to the creatures you killed in order to sustain the way of life. Kneeling over them, declaring your thanks, and wishing for their safe return to rest amongst the Great Mother was a sacred practice. However, as the gunship crashed and blew up in flames, hot and angry, you felt no thanks or remorse. They did not deserve to rest peacefully, and they didn’t even deserve to die on the Great Mother’s sacred soil. Their spirits deserved to walk alone, isolated and cold from the warm glow of the afterlife. 

“You skxawng! What the hell are you doing?” Neteyam screams. 

Looking around, you see the green back of his ikran, its rider perched on top with no visible concerns except for the fury etched on his face. 

“I got this! It’s just one more,” you insist, positioning an arrow on your bow, eyeing the last gunship. 

“May the Great Mother help you when I knock-” and with that, he’s easily ignored. 

The wind whips past you, high and soft, almost like a whisper from Eywa that she too felt the tensions of battle. You would do anything to soothe her pain. She could not endure the suffering of this war much longer. 

Tightening your grip on your ikran, her blues providing a stark contrast to the grayness of the military equipment, you attack from the rear yet again. Guns firing, you duck, placing yourself as flat as you can get against her back. However, once you approach the opening of the ship, where all of the massive guns were placed, you sit up, firing quickly. 

The scream and weak grunt you heard confirms that it was a successful hit. Loading your bow with another arrow, you soar underneath the aircraft, looping around until you have the high ground. Securing your aim, your fingers release the string until the arrow flies straight into one of the Scorpion's propellers. A small explosion soon turned into a large one, the ship dipping to its left and falling from its dominant space in the sky to the dirt. 

However, so were you.

You must’ve underestimated how close you were to the ship, your eagerness to protect your people and the Great Mother clouded your judgment. 

The sound and burst of light, as well as the force, must’ve spooked your companion as she, too, seemed to have lost her place in the sky. She tumbles towards the ground, shrieks and roars released into the open air. Jaw clenched, you tried to convince her to gain control to no avail. 

“Come on!” you shout, knuckles turning a pale blue with the tight grip you had. 

As you neared the ground, panic began to set in. Your ears lay flat against your head in an attempt to not become overwhelmed by the wind, you tried to think quickly. 

You could stay with your ikran, but you would both get injured; you could also disconnect from her and leap from the group, in hopes of only injuring yourself. 

Deciding on the latter, you had one plea for the Great Mother: 

“Please don’t let Neteyam kill me.” 

Disconnecting your kuru, you leap the rest of the way to the ground, the shock of the force of your fall causing you to fall instead of landing perfectly on your feet. The ship crashes a couple of yards in front of you, the force of the blast propelling you forward. 

Rolling and skidding along the dirt, pieces of gravel and discarded glass and metal tear at your skin. Red begins to bubble up along the surface, the violent opposite of your blue skin. 

Tumbling down a hill, you lose your grip on your bow, the wood being left behind in your trail. The burning sensation of your flesh being scraped away keeps you alert, blindly clutching at anything to break your fall. 

Eventually, you slow to a stop, landing on your stomach with a mouthful of dirt. Spitting and coughing up the soil, you take a minute to catch your breath. With a slight raise of your head, you look at the ship as the flames crackle and cause a film of sweat to break out on your skin. That hunk of metal was truly ugly against the backdrop of the forest. 

You begin to slowly sit up, a sharp pain coming from your side. A cut, not deep enough to need stitches, slowly oozes blood down your left rib, crimson staining the skin. It looks swollen, screaming to be disinfected immediately. Reaching behind you to check for any more severe wounds, you arch away from your nimble fingers just upon a light graze. The heat from the explosion must’ve irritated the skin, causing soreness and slight bubbling in some places. 

Minor scrapes along your knees and elbows from what you could see and feel, makes you thank Eywa for her protection and the benign wounds. Stumbling onto your feet, you catch sight of something unnatural. 

A small piece of metal protrudes from the side of your thigh, embedded into the flesh. Staring at the shrapnel, you’re reminded that your world doesn’t just belong to you anymore. Even if the Sky People were to disappear and return back to their planet, the scientists would remain here. Their clunky gear and massive structures would continue to reside amongst the nature of Pandora. 

Something about that notion makes your heart sink. 

You lightly touch the silvery metal, trying to gauge how deep the foreign object must be. It felt stiff and unwilling to relent to your touch, confirming that it was not something you could brush off. Taking a step forward, a broad, aching pain festers throughout your leg. It hurt less if you put less pressure on the limb, however, that would be hard to do on your journey back to the High Camp. 

Picking up your bow from the ground, arrows broken and scattered around, you slowly mount your ikran, muttering expletives to yourself at the pain that dwelled throughout your entire body. 

Neteyam was surely going to kill you. 

Upon your arrival, after an arduous flight back home, you slowly slid off your companion onto the uneven rock. Blood oozed out from around the metal, the object having dug deeper into the surface the more you moved. With one hand clutching your rib and another trying to steady the object, you hoped to stumble into a healing area before you were noticed by a Sully. 

Turns out, you’re not as stealthy as you thought. 

“She’s back! She’s back!” a high-pitched cheer sounded, a small girl bouncing towards you. Tuk’s big grin slowly faded into a look of concern and worry as she sized up your injuries. “Mom! Kiri! She’s hurt!” 

The younger girl prances over to you, lifting your arms and examining your body from front to back. You feel the small girl brush against your tail, which was agitatedly flicking back and forth. 

With a sigh of your name, you see Tuk’s mother and elder sister approach you, war paint still decorating Neytiri’s face in vibrant greens and yellows. She gasps upon spotting the dirt, blood, and bruising that has blossomed across your skin, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as her eyes fill with worry. 

“We must get her to grandmother,” Kiri announces to her mother, clutching your upper arm as softly as she could without hurting you. 

“There’s no need. I can do it myself,” you try to assure her, taking a fumbling limp forward. 

“There is a piece of metal sticking out of your leg.” 

You glance down, almost as if you hadn’t noticed it at all before. It was a futile attempt, especially as you used your fingers to brace the object, preventing it from moving too much. “There is?” 

“Damn, bro!” Lo’ak exclaims, waltzing up beside you and trying his best to not laugh at your given failure. “Looks like someone got their ass handed to them by some Sky People,” 

Hissing at him, you weakly push at his chest to show him that you weren’t interested in his jokes right now. 

“Lo’ak!” his mother scolds, hitting him upside the head. 

“What?! What I’d do?!” 

Then, the two people you desperately wanted to avoid came into view: Neteyam and his father. Jake had a stern, militant look on his face—a facade that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Neteyam’s face was set into a deep frown, a look that was a delicate cross between his mother’s and father’s disappointed faces. 

“Well, would you look at the time? Looks like I better start tending to-” you attempt to walk away, only to be kept in place by Neytiri’s firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not like you’d be able to escape them as quickly or swiftly as you would typically be able to. You–apparently–had a piece of metal sticking out of your leg. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Jake scolds still dressed head to toe in his fusion of Omaticaya and Sky military gear. “Disobeying direct orders? That isn’t something I expected from you.” 

Casting your eyes downwards, you hope your flat ears and limp tail would get you out of this scolding quicker than it would’ve if he was scolding Neteyam or Lo’ak. Typically, avoiding his gaze would show that you felt regret—which, in this case, you didn’t really—and he’d let you move on. However, it’s hard to keep your eyes fixed on the ground when someone gets into your line of view. 

Neteyam crouches down, face coming into view as if he’s trying to catch your fake performance. Instead, he places two hands, worn and calloused from all of the years of fighting and defending his people, onto your cheeks. He tilts your face upwards so he can view you from his natural height, allowing him to view each scrape and bruise in proper lighting. His lips twitch into a grimace, thumbs grazing over a small cut that must be on your cheek because, although there’s a faint sting, there’s no leaking blood. 

Now, everyone knew about you and Neteyam. It’s not like it was kept a secret. Wherever you went, he followed; whatever he was doing, you were right there beside him. In the years to come, you would become his mate and that was an unspoken decision between you and him. Well, there was also an unspoken rule between Neteyam and the rest of the boys his age to not even glance at you, or else he’d have their tails. However, no matter how much people smiled softly whenever you’d exchange fond glances or spare looks when you two ran off alone, it wasn’t like you publicly displayed much physical affection. Nonetheless in front of his parents. 

He unloops your visor from behind your ears, handing it to his brother without his gaze leaving your face. As soon as his hands leave you, they return just as quickly. His fingers smooth over your face, confirming that you’re breathing and here in front of him—something he’s very grateful for. Your stupidity—not so much. 

“You’re such a skxawng,” he chides, tilting your face towards his. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. It’s not like I’m the one who took down—not one—but two whole- ow!” you yelp, stumbling forward towards the young man. 

Tuk looks at you guiltily, one finger outstretched as if she was prodding at something. 

Kiri steps forward, pushing Tuktirey out of the way in order to re-examine your back. 

“We should take her to grandmother,” she insists, “now.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to continue with your act of not being nearly as injured as you appear, but the longer you stand, the more it becomes not true. As the adrenaline wears off, the soreness and incessant throbbing grow throughout your muscles and bones. Your rib and leg are still oozing blood, warm and tacky against your skin. Neteyam loops an arm around you, careful to avoid the blisters and welts that decorate various places on your back. 

His free hand reaches for the hand that hangs limply over his shoulder, intertwining your fingers and giving them a light squeeze. “It’ll all be okay,” 

“Yeah, I know. Just ‘cause I’m walking a bit funny doesn’t mean I’m dying,” 

You could say that then, but you sure as hell can’t say that now. 

If there was one thing about Mo’at, it was that she couldn’t care less if her remedies stung like a bitch as long as they cured you thoroughly. So now, as she smears a paste along your back—the sensation as bitter and frigid as the Northernmost part of any mountain—that bites at your skin, you kind of wish you were dead. Or at least knocked out. 

This isn’t even the worst of it. 

Once the stinging fades more into a relaxing cool, Mo’at instructs you to lean backward so she can assess your torso. The older woman crouches next to you, hands hovering over the wound as if Eywa was sending her a direct message on the best way to heal you. Neteyam sits on the other side of you, clutching your hand with a grip that seems more like it’s to reassure him than you, his other hand brushing your hair away from your face. 

Neytiri stays close to her mother, observing or advising what she believes to be the next course of action—just as a tsakarem should do. Kiri stays by your feet, grinding and mashing up various plants and syrups that could be used to aid with disinfecting your wounds. Lo’ak and his father stay near the door, ready to leave if someone else should need assistance with anything to do with the war effort. However, as everyone stays well within their place, performing their necessary task, Tuk couldn’t seem to sit still. 

“Is she going to need stitches?” Tuk asks, peering over her eldest brother. 

Neteyam removes his hand from your hair, slightly readjusting the younger’s weight so she doesn’t put too much pressure on him, in turn, putting pressure on you. 

The Tsahìk doesn’t look up from your wound, eyes brightening as if Eywa had finally delivered her guidance to the woman. “No, she will just need to rest. I would advise very minimal movement for at least seven days,” the woman says, being handed a bowl of yellowish sap. 

“Seven days? But I need to be out there, it’s my duty to fight,” you plead, growing restless and inching upwards. 

Neteyam pushes you back down, delicate but firm fingers pressing against your sternum. “Down,” he murmurs. 

“It is not my fault you did not listen to orders,” the older woman retorts, using a brush-like leaf to observe the consistency of the paste before lowering it toward your injury. 

“Yeah, well it’s not my fault that I just happened to save- oh, Great Mother! Holy sh-” you yelp upon Mo’at contact. 

Neteyam presses a hand over your mouth, sending you a stern glare. “Not in front of the Tsahìk,” he hushes, palm warm against your lips. 

You groan against his hand, face twisting and back arching in pain. Unlike the gel thinly spread across your back, there was no relief from this paste. Mo’at continued to slather it all across your skin, insisting that the more you move, the more it will hurt. You squeeze Neteyam’s hand, feeling the bones shift with how strong your grip is. If you’re hurting him, you can’t tell. The look of pain on his face seems to be linked to his feelings about your injuries, your pain. Always the doting lover. 

Once Mo’at wraps the injury, using both Na’vi and human medical wraps, she places a palm over the injury, thanking the Great Mother. Then, she looks at your leg. 

Your leg was held down by Kiri throughout the excursion, as she didn’t want the shrapnel to lodge itself deeper into the skin and muscle. At the base of your leg, a piece of twine is firmly wrapped around the skin to lightly restrict blood flow. The skin was not pinched, nor did you lose feeling in your leg as you would’ve if the twine was used as a makeshift tourniquet, however, your thigh still resisted against the band. 

You haven’t cried yet, however, just with her eyes boring into your leg you feel as if you’re about to sob. 

“Please don’t take it out. I don’t- I don’t want to have to do this anymore,” you begin to blubber, looking at Neteyam as you try to sit up. 

“Shh, shh,” he placates, stroking your cheek. “It’s okay. I’m here, I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you.” 

“I’ve been hurting this whole time,” you groan, “what the hell have you been-”

Then, the last two people you want to see walk into the room: Norm and Max. 

“I grabbed them as soon as I heard,” says Spider, following close behind. 

“No. No, no, no. Get the hell away from me,” you say, instantly shooting up and trying your best to scoot away, even as Kiri still holds down your leg. 

Neteyam says your name so sweetly, so full of fondness that a chill is sent up your spine—a chill that isn’t caused by the cooling medicine or a shock of pain. “He’s here to help.”

“I don’t want him here,” you spit, speaking Na’vi to the boy sitting beside you. 

“We have no choice,” he reasons, his voice dropping an octave. “They will be much quicker with their equipment than with ours. I promise that my grandmother will heal and treat you, but we need their help to make sure that there’s no extra damage that is beyond what the eye can see.” 

You shake your head, refusing to listen to him and averting your gaze. 

His lithe fingers reach for your chin, turning you back towards him. There he goes again; always making you feel like the blushing fool, especially in front of his family. 

“I will not let them hurt you.” 

What a fucking liar. 

Taking a team of three women plus Norm to hold your leg down, Max begins to lower his tweezers toward the piece of metal. With the first tug, you begin screaming. The pressure and the resistance between Max’s tweezers and the artificial shard against your tender skin and muscle caused your free leg to kick, hands tightening at your sides and clinging onto Neteyam. The fact that your whole body was tense, each muscle spasming, probably didn’t help what was already a difficult procedure. 

“Damn, she’s strong,” Norm comments, adding more pressure in an attempt to hold your leg down. “Spider, help us out.” 

You continue to sob, reaching for Neteyam to claw at his shoulder. If you’re hurting him or breaking skin, he doesn’t tell you. Instead, he cradles you as you cry against his leg. Ripping your hand from his, you squeeze his leg, nose pressed against his thigh to hide your face. There’s no guarantee that half of the clan hasn’t heard you by now, nor that a few people have poked their heads in to see who the hell was screaming so damn loud. You were well known. There’s no way anybody wouldn’t recognize that it was you who was being surgically tortured. However, if you could save some dignity by hiding yourself against Neteyam, you would do just that. 

“I’m never letting them near my body again,” you weep, gripping tight to the blue skin beneath you. 

Neteyam rakes his fingers through your hair, hands petting any inch of skin that has brought you comfort over the years. He knows you like the back of his hands. Playing with your hair puts you to sleep, rubbing his thumb across your cheek makes you keen, following the slope of your nose makes you smile, and touching your ear makes you quiet. Using this knowledge, Neteyam’s hands roam to any expanse of skin that he can reach. He must look mad, with busy fingers and frantic eyes, but he can’t help himself. His chest hurts when he sees you like this, and if he needs to kill someone to make you feel better, he’d gladly do that. 

“It’s almost out. We’re almost done,�� he assures you in a soft tone, getting close to your ear. 

Your ears, which have been laying flat and folding over periodically finally perk up and away from your skull—a sense of relief. It’s quick-lived before they fall back against your hair, but he sees it as a small win. 

“Can you dress it for me?” you plea, voice breaking painfully. 

Who is he to deny you? 

“All done!” Max cheers, placing the flat piece of shrapnel into an emesis basin.

The clang of the metal against metal causes you to abruptly sit up. Neteyam’s hand is on your shoulder, but for the first time, it’s not to push you back down. He lets you take your time viewing the sizable gash in your leg, an injury that without a doubt needs extra aid. You whimper at the sight, not necessarily at the pain, but because you knew what this means: you would be under strict supervision at the battle scene. You couldn’t be trusted to be alone, especially as you were a great friend of the Sully’s and Neteyam’s prospective mate. 

Falling back into Neteyam, the cries you let out are softer but still cause your body to shake. Neteyam rubs his cheek against yours when you hide your face in his neck, tears causing the blue skin to become slick and tacky. He readjusts your top which has moved around during all of your painful squirming, protecting your modesty. The beads land softly against your shoulder, arms holding you snuggly against him. He tucks your hair behind your ear, giving him a view of the ear that is decorated with various pieces of Omaticaya jewelry. An orange bead, delicately dangling from your lobe, was a gift from him. 

“It makes me feel wiser during battle,” you told him once before sending an arrow straight through the eye of a fish that swam around in the pond. 

He touches it lightly, reminding you that everything is alright. 

“No! She’s going to need stitches!” Tuk whimpers, a frown deeply set on her face. Even through your crying, Neteyam catches the faintest hint of a smile. 

Mo’at begins to drip water over the wound, clearing away any blood that may have leaked down your leg despite the twine restricting your blood flow. 

It’s silent besides Max, Norm, and Jake’s mumbling outside of the tent as Mo’at preps a needle and thread. Kiri, Neytiri, and Spider have since released your leg, observing you and the Tsahìk. Just as Mo’at blesses the needle and thread, Neteyam speaks up. 

“I’ll do it.” 

Mo’at looks at her grandson, her gaze strong but understanding. The white bone needle stays pinched between her two fingers, amber eyes unwavering. 

“Neteyam, let your grandmother-“ 

“I said I’ll do it.” he hushes, lip curling in order to hide a scowl. 

His mother looks at her own, a non-verbal communication occurring between their stares. Eventually, Neytiri acquiesces, standing up and taking a step away from you. 

Mo’at hands him the needle, placing a worn but beautiful hand on your leg. 

“Return here tomorrow so I can check on the wound,” she orders. You nod, eyes still teary before the older woman stands with her daughter, ready to move on to the other warriors who need their assistance. 

Once his mother and grandmother leave, Neteyam grows restless. 

“Everyone out, please.” 

Kiri scoffs at him, still seated by your feet. “You can‘t be serious,” 

“Out! Get out!” he hisses, fangs bared at his sister and the human boy beside her. “You have done nothing!” 

“I wouldn’t call holding down her leg for nothing. I’ll have bruises for the next week,” Spider dismisses, standing up with Lo’ak, who is already headed towards the exit. 

“Out!” he shouts one final time, his siblings leaving as his tail flicks back and forth with irritation. 

It isn’t until they’re gone, that Neteyam leaves your right side, scrambling and pouncing over you in order to come in contact with your left leg. 

The tent is silent as he begins his work. The process doesn’t hurt much, a gentle prick or pinch here and there; you’re not sure whether it’s because your nerves are shot and can’t detect pain anymore or because Neteyam is good at his work. It could be both. Before you know it, the wound is closed and a row of sutures stares back at you in a familiar Na’vi sewing pattern. The skin is even, nothing too uncomfortable, and although there’s bruising, it appears to be that everything will be okay. 

You reach out to touch the stitches with a shaky hand, only to be slapped away. “Uh uh, don’t touch,” he tuts, eyes focused and mouth slightly ajar in concentration. 

He grabs under your knee, bending it at the joint in order to prop it up so he can place a bandage over the sutures. 

“To protect them,” he informs you, wrapping the gauze around your thigh.

He’s very quiet throughout, a reaction you were not expecting. Neteyam has always been logical, methodical; he never steps out of line or does something rash unless it’s for the means of protecting those he loves. Always quick to action, he’s usually the first to help and the first to reprimand someone (usually Lo’ak) for their stupidity. That would be the typical reaction. However, now he looked almost forlorn. 

Once he’s done, he fully stands for the first time since you entered the tent. He begins to rummage through his grandmother’s remedies that sit in wooden jars and crystal vials, concoctions she’s mastered after years and years of being the Tsahìk. After selecting a small wooden bowl filled with clear oil, he grabs another bowl of water and a rag and sits down in front of you. Dabbing the rag in the bowl of water, he lifts the dripping cloth toward your face. 

“What are you doing?” 

He looks at you, eyes narrowing briefly before they return to their normal, large position. 

“Your face is filthy.” 

He gently holds your chin, tilting it up towards him so he can begin wiping your face. His hold is steady but his eyes look nerved, almost as if he has too much on his mind to bear. His breathing matches yours, and he dodges your gaze although his entire being crowds your line of sight. There’s no way for him to avoid you, really. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask as he dips the rag and wrings out all of the water, approaching your face yet again. 

“Nothing is wrong,” he replies curtly, his ears twitching quickly before returning to their previous state—a telltale sign that he’s lying. 

“Oh, so you’re just going to pretend like I know nothing about you now?” you try to joke, smile falling when you notice how he doesn’t reciprocate your humor. “Talk to me,” you urge, grabbing his wrist so he can’t try to distract you or himself by caring for your wounds. 

He sighs, looking away before he slowly looks back at you. Holding your gaze, eyes squinting and lips pursing slightly. Neteyam looks at you like you’re supposed to understand him–and you do–but it’s as if he’s expecting you to know what’s bothering him. However, the problem is that you don’t. Once he comes to that realization, he sighs, still looking into your eyes. 

“I’m upset with you.” 

And there it is. Your tail swishes uneasily, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Neteyam, but he can’t bring himself to quell his emotions for your sake. He almost lost you. 

“Why are you upset with me?” 

He shrugs, almost as if he’s embarrassed or too shy to explain his feelings. Being the eldest son and the next heir, Neteyam often felt as if he had to hide his own inhibitions or concerns in order to be a good son, a good brother, a good leader. When it was just the two of you, you would often have to do a little extra prying in order to get him to reveal what was truly occupying that pretty little head of his. Even once he admitted it, it was even harder to get him to elaborate. 

“Just drop it. You should be healing,” he dismisses, trying to distract himself by wiping your face again. 

Pushing his wrist away with your fingers, you take the cloth and throw it into the bowl of water. Holding his hands on your lap, his tail swishing timidly behind him, you make him look at you by following his gaze. “I can talk and heal. The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” 

“I wish they were,” he mutters, a braid swinging in front of his face. 

“Hey,” you tuck the strand behind his ear. He leans towards your touch, almost as if he craves it, no matter how much he wishes he didn’t. “This isn’t how this works. You need to talk to me.” 

“You’ve already been in enough pain today. I don’t want to cause anymore,” 

“Quit the bullshit. I’m better now. I’ll feel worse if you don’t tell me.” 

“That’s not the way it works.” 

“Um, yes, it is.” 

“It’s not.” 

“How would you know? I can already feel my leg hurting ten times more now that you won’t communicate with me.” 

“You’re not in any more pain because of me,” he scoffs, trying to escape your grasp. 

“Ow, my leg! My leg!” you feign a whimper. He cracks a small smile, your cheeks spreading as smoothly as the war paint that still dons his face. 

Neteyam looks so beautiful when he smiles. It’s a special smile, reserved only for you; it drips of sticky honey, so sugary that sometimes you feel as if you could fall ill from its adoration. He’s soft as he looks at you, coy and all things delightful. The hands that once tried to flee your own, now reach for your wrists, petting the skin in a pattern that speaks a million languages at once. And yet, somehow, not one of those languages can truly resemble how much he loves you. He loves you a lot. 

“Please,” you whisper, “tell me what’s wrong?” 

He sighs, assenting to your pleas. With one final sweep over your face, he finally indulges you. 

“I’m not happy that you took down those ships.” 

“Well, duh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “I know that, but I want to know why.” 

“You weren’t careful.” 

This causes a richer scoff to form at the back of your throat, a sound that makes his ears press against his braids. “I thought we agreed to take down the enemy at any and all costs?” 

“I know, and we did—we did make that agreement. I just,” he groans, trying to find the right words. Neteyam never had the right words when it came to expressing himself. “I was scared.” 

“Okay,” you reply softly, shuffling closer to him. “Why were you scared?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be scared?” he answers, tone mimicking the same quiet tone you used. “You’re mine—my girl, and- and they almost took what’s mine away from me.” 

“God, I just got so scared that something bad would happen to you. And when I saw you hurt, how badly you were in pain, and I couldn’t do anything about it I just…” his eyes are frantic, searching all across the hut for something—anything—to provide him an answer. His hands start to tremor in your hold. “I felt helpless and so stupid. I should’ve been tougher on you, or—I don’t know—had Lo’ak or even Kiri stay with you so you didn’t have to be alone. And it’s not that I don’t think you’re incapable or anything—” he excuses, causing you to smile lightly, “—but I don’t trust them. I don‘t trust them with you.” 

Smile turning watery, you reach for his shoulder, soon deciding to hold his face instead. He leans into your palm yet again, seeking the warmth that can only emanate from your hands alone. It’s the only warmth that can rid him of any chill. 

Neteyam kisses your palm, soon rolling your hand over in his, placing his lips on each knuckle as if it provides him comfort. And it does. It provides him more comfort than he could care to admit. Placing your head in the crook where his neck and shoulder meet, you place a kiss on his collarbone, lowering your lips to place another on his pec, right above his heart. The young man draws in a deep breath, holding you close to him, savoring each second, each touch. Skin against skin; heart against heart. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you apologize, your soft lips grazing his blue skin. He loves the feeling. “I just wanted to protect our people.” 

“I know, I know,” he murmurs against your forehead, a light kiss placed there. “I’m sorry for yelling.” 

“It’s okay. You didn’t even yell,” you forgive, cheeks pillowing against his chest. When you lift yourself away from him, he tilts his head in confusion at your smirk. “Also, we both know Kiri would be awful on the battlefield.” 

He chuckles, brushing his nose against yours. “True. She can’t even shoot an arrow in a straight line.” 

“Exactly! I don’t know what you were thinking when you said that. Lo’ak? Sure, whatever. But Kiri?” 

“I know, I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as if his quietness will preserve this moment between you. 

His eyes become velvet—smooth and warm—the longer he looks at you and it instantly makes you melt. His lips look saccharine, a buttery spread of a light smile decorating his face which is just the absolute cherry on top. If Eywa hadn’t taken you during battle, she sure as hell was going to take you now with how crazy Neteyam makes your heartbeat. 

He tucks your hair behind your ear, his smile growing more and more with each expanse of skin he navigates. Dancing his fingertips over your jaw and across your cheekbones, he eventually cups your cheek and you just watch. If you breathe too hard, if you shift your weight, this moment could crumble. He’s looked at you like this many times before but it’s usually in the dark, under the bioluminescent blue and purple lights of the forest, where all you can see are the shadows of his face and the warmth of his tongue and the breeze of his breath. Now, you can see everything in pure, golden hues. The way his mouth relaxes, the way his eyes absorb all they can with each quick glance, the way the corner of his mouth tugs upwards unconsciously. You love it. 

“May I kiss you?” he asks quietly, thumb swiping along a stripe on your cheek. 

“Why do you ask now? You’ve done it many times before,” you wonder, eyes transfixed on the way his own mouth moves with each word he’s about to form. 

He chuckles, a sweet, melodic sound, “Just wanted to make sure you’re still down even when the sun is out.” 

This earns a loud laugh from you, a laugh that makes Neteyam’s heart squeeze and his lower stomach burn. He loves you. One day, he’ll say it. 

Once your giggles have fizzled into a content sigh, you bite your lip lightly before you release it and it returns to its normal place. Neteyam follows the movement. 

“I’m always down if it’s you.” 

“Yeah?” he smiles, breathy and lips plush.  

“Yeah.” 

With that, he seals the deal. His kiss is soft, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your mouth right before the initial contact. It makes you feel hot all over. He’s gentle—he always is at first—and he’s so, so kind. He pulls away briefly, returning not long after as if he needs to be connected to you or else he would suffer. In a way, he would. 

Neteyam is sweet. He still tastes like the fruit you shared before the raid and also a little bit like blood—whether it’s from him or you, you don’t care; you’ll devour it desperately just like you want him to devour you. He traces that stripe on your cheek again, his new best friend, and follows it down the nape of your neck. His other hand trails up from the small of your back to the divot in between your shoulder blades. He uses his hand to pull you closer, seeking any contact from you that he can get. 

Your hands are a barrier, shielding your chest from his, and in a way, it upsets you but also pleases you. Nobody knows what would happen if you could feel his chest pressed against yours at this moment—not even you know. Your hands glide across his chest, lighting scraping and molding against the fine muscle that hides under his smooth skin. When a lithe finger accidentally catches against a nipple, his mouth drops open pliantly, his tongue searching for yours. 

“‘S scared they took my girl away from me,” he murmurs against your lips, his own following after yours after each word. 

“Never,” you promise, kissing him firmly, one hand gripping his shoulder to ground yourself. All of this kissing was beginning to make you feel as if you could float away. “I’m yours. They could never take me or have me. You know that,” 

“Mhm,” he hums, voice lilting towards the end as he presses his mouth to yours. It makes your back arch forward, seeking more of his skin, his touch. 

His hands are growing desperate now. Neteyam knows he has to be gentle, avoiding the damaged skin on your back and remaining weary of the injuries on your rib and leg, but he so badly just wants to pull you close to him and never let go. He wants to hold you, to feel you, to be with you in every single way he can imagine so passionately. But he can’t. He will have to wait for another time. 

You, on the other hand, may roam freely. Your hands travel down his chest, exploring the taught skin of his stomach. It seems he subconsciously flexes underneath your touch, something that is rather enticing. Reaching the plusher skin of his lower stomach, although there still isn’t much give, you trace the muscle gingerly, bordering right above the hem of his loincloth. The delicate touch of your fingers causes him to lightly moan into your mouth, a sound you gladly drink down just to feel its warmth in your stomach. 

Neteyam pulls away suddenly, a loss you’re greatly upset about until he relocates his lips under your ear, traveling down your neck. He hums against the skin, tongue swiping against it as if he’s trying to taste as much of you as he can, as much as he’s allowed. 

“You can’t touch me like that,” he says, using a hand to bring both of yours back toward his chest. You cradle his head instead, tracing a finger along his ear. It twitches. 

“Why not?” you question, voice airy. Neteyam nearly preens at the sound, tail wild. “You seem to like it.” 

“I do like it,” he insists, “I love it, even.” 

“Then why can’t I touch you there?” 

He places a wet, fervent kiss against the crook of your neck. Your breath hitches in your throat, a moan threatening to escape past your lips. 

“Because,” another kiss, “You are not promised to me yet.” 

“I just told you that I’m yours,” you reminded him. 

“Yes,” he nods, trailing his kisses back toward your jaw. “However, you’re still not mine.” 

Oh. 

“I could be yours. All you have to do is ask,” you say as if it’s not something he already knows. You hold his head in place, halting his journey upwards so you can whisper in his ear: “Ask me, Neteyam.” 

His tail swishes excitedly, something that makes you smile. Great Mother, you could eat him up. 

“No,” he responds, pulling away and facing you head-on. He has a lovesick smile on his face, a grin that nobody could wipe off as long as you’re around. “I want to do it right.” 

“Yeah?” you counter. “How would you do it?”

“Well,” he hums, kissing your lips. “First, I’d get all of your favorite foods. All of those fruits you like, season everything all nice,” he begins to slowly kiss your cheeks, “and get it all ready just for you to eat.” 

“What else?” 

“Then,” his kisses travel towards your ear, “Once you’re full and comfortable, we’ll go for a walk.” He bites your ear lobe and you press yourself against him. “We’ll go to our favorite spots: we’ll look at those flowers you like, go to the river, maybe swim a little. I like the way your hair looks while wet, you look so pretty,” he sighs. “You listening?” 

“Yes,” you nod. “Go on.” 

“Then I’d bring you to our sacred tree, just so Eywa can see us and I can see you under her light. I want to see you when I ask you. I want to see you if you smile or cry or decide that I’m not the one, I don’t care, I just want to see you,” he smiles, no longer kissing you but nudging your nose with his. 

“And if you say yes—Great Mother, I hope you say yes—I promise, I’ll treat you so well. I’ll hold you the way you ask to be held, kiss you in all of the places I already know you love to be kissed, and learn all of the new places I can’t reach yet too. I want to feel you, and see the way you react. I want you to feel me, too. I want you to see me, and I want to see you,” he whispers, voicing each wish. 

You nod, slowly and then desperately. “I want to see you, too,” you promise. He smiles that big, toothy smile. “Tell me when you’ll ask me? I can’t wait for much longer. I need you.” 

His eyelids grow heavy, skin heating underneath your palm. “I need you, too,” he gasps, leaning forward to kiss you again. “It’ll be soon, just want you to heal for now.” 

“Yeah?” you smile. “Soon?” 

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Soon.” 

ⓒ starvine 2023