#the only way to survive the mundanity of life is through love!! and when it's taken away well i suppose you just go apeshit :/

[fall-dog]

i finally saw the banshees of inisherin and god mutuals you were not wrong abt it!! the claustrophobia!! the despair!! the old man drama!! the humour!! the sorrow!!

[imaginaryf1shots]

Married? | Oscar Piastri

WC: 2.1K

Oscar x Wife!Reader

Summery: He never met to hide it, it's just the way he is.

Warning: none

Masterlist

Oscar Masterlist

It was always a known thing, there was never any doubt in anyone that knew him, Oscar has always been destined to be an F1 driver. It was written. Anyone that knows him knows this. And you've known him almost all your life. Before he went to Europe and before he started travelling around for Karting and racing in the Formula series. It seems like there was never a point in your life where Oscar wasn't in it. What started as playground friendship turned to crushing on each other, turned to liking each other and then turned into a relationship. Not high school sweethearts, more like six grade sweethearts. No one expected your relationship to last due to you being so young, and still growing up and developing. Yet, the distance only made you grow fonder of each other. Your relationship survived him moving to the UK for school and racing, it survived the time difference and all the growing up you had to do. Video calls are your thing, you're the kind of people to have it on for hours doing mundane things not necessarily talking but just having the feeling that the other was there.

Now when you became 18, the next step wasn't surprising to those around you. You and Oscar talked about it for so long, you finished school already, so what was stopping you? Nothing. With the help of your parents you both got married, and so you relocated to the UK with Oscar. 

You went to Uni and he was off racing. Coming home to you was always the highlight of the day for Oscar, he'd leave his bags by the door and search for you in the apartment before he'd just all but throw himself at you just wanting some love and attention.

You'd be sitting on the sofa folding some laundry, the TV playing, the door would open and close and you would be none the wiser. Oscar would follow the sound of the TV finding you engrossed in the show that's playing, your hands moving on their own as you fold his shirt. Oscar would move to the sofa and you'd gasp in surprise, finally noticing him before he threw himself on the sofa, his head in your lap, his face hiding in your stomach.

"God, Osc, you scared me." You'd say but smile nonetheless, Oscar would mumble a 'sorry' and you'd barely understand it. Your hands go to his hair and you run your fingers through his locks, scratching ever so slightly. Oscar would groan and you lean down to kiss his head. "How was the flight?"

"Long." You hum and just let him have his time getting what he needs. Now it's not often that he'd fall asleep like that, but the flight was long and he didn't get any sleep, he doesn't remember when it happened, but he falls asleep. You'd stay like that for an hour or two, the TV still playing but the sound is lower until he'd wake up. Once he starts waking up, he starts moving around, he moves to his back and slowly opens his eyes, blinking up at you.

"Hey sleepyhead."

"Hey, I didn't realise I slept."

"Yeah, didn't even give me a hello kiss or anything." You teased him, Oscar sleepily sits up and places a hand on your cheek before he presses his lips to yours, once, twice, three times before deepens it. You sigh in content. Happy to have him in your arms after almost a week.

Oscar didn't mean to hide it, he just didn't wear his ring, he lost it twice at races and since then he only wore it when he's not on a racing week. He's also not very talkative, he doesn't find himself sharing things about himself willingly, but if you ask he'll answer, you just have to prompt him. Maybe it was because he was a rookie, or because there was many things happening, but no one realised he was seeing someone in 2023, you've been to races, you didn't really like the limelight, not while you're still studying at least, so you'd go into the paddock alone, but you'd still be a guest of McLaren. Some people just assumed you're a family member (which is correct, but not how they thought) or just a close friend.

All of that came to an end when you finally finished Uni, and were free to travel more, and coming into the paddock with Oscar wasn't such a scary thing anymore. It all came with the fact that you got a new ring for Oscar and kind of 'proposed' to him with it in your living room, Oscar decided to try wearing his ring, he wouldn't have to take it off anyways. It's his wedding ring, and according to the rules he could keep it on.

It was a Grand Prix weekend, Oscar's family flew out for the race. You walked in with them, Nicole was by your side, a couple photographers took photos, manly because they're Oscar's family, not that they know about you. Getting into McLaren, someone tells Oscar that you're all here, you were back in Australia for 2 weeks, while he was at the factory working, it's more than you both had gotten used to in recent years. Oscar comes in and he ignores his family heading straight to you, you smile up at him and he leans in, giving you a hug and a quick kiss.

"Glad to know, you missed us." Nicole teased Oscar, and he went to hug her. She's always happy seeing how still in love you both are, it warms her heart. Her son is in a happy marriage while achieving his dream away from her. Oscar stands with you all as much as he could before he had to go back to work. You all made it to the hospitality.

"I heard Oscar's family is here." Lando walks in at one point, with a smile on his face, he greets everyone, stopping at you, seeing no similarities between you and Oscar. "I know I saw you before, but I don't know who you are."

"It's alright, I'm Oscar's w-."

"Girlfriend?" Lando cuts you off with a smile. "I knew he's in a relationship but he hasn't introduced you."

"No, I'm not-"

"Oh, are you not his girlfriend? I'm sorry."

"It's not tha-"

"I just want to meet his girlfriend, he never talks about anything unless you ask him and-"

"Lando, I'm his-"

"He seems like he's in a relationship, at least that's what I understood from him."

"I'm his wife."

"But I could be wrong and this is all a- wait... what?" Lando stops once he realises what you said, his eyes are wide while you just smile at him.

"I'm his wife." You say again, and his sisters all just giggle to themselves, finding it all very amusing. Lando looks at Nicole and Chris, as if he's waiting for them to say something, to say it's a joke, to deny it, anything.

"I told Oscar to just come out and say he's married." Nicole said shaking her head slightly, this is about to come out, and she knows Oscar will once again turn the internet on it's head.

"he's-you're-and." Lando looks to have malfunctioned. "I need a moment to come to terms with this."

Lando walks away in a daze, it leaves you all amused. You text Oscar telling him what happened with Lando.

Oscar didn't read your message, Lando walked in on him and his engineer while they were in a meeting.

"You-you- you have a wife?" Lando asked, and Oscar's gaze turned from confused to amused really quickly.

"Yeah." Oscar answered simply.

"What?" It was Tom's turn to be surprised.

"I'm married." Oscar held out his left hand showing his ring.

"I thought that was a family heirloom or something." Lando was exasperated.

"No, I lost one or two rings, so y/n, bought me a new one recently." Oscar explained.

"y/n? the girl you bring with you to races from time to time?" Tom asked remembering you, he saw you a few times, but there was never a sign that you're dating Oscar, never mind married to him.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It just never came up." Oscar shrugged, leaving both men flabbergasted, astonished by the realisation.

"You're one of a kind, Oscar, seriously." Tom shook his head and sighed. "We have to get back to our meeting, this will have to wait."

It didn't take long for the news to travel, those that were in the hospitality and saw the whole thing go down with Lando went on and spread the news around. And Lando asked a few people if they knew, apparently only Zac knew, he thought Oscar wanted to keep it a secret so he said nothing.

The news took a while before it reached Williams.

"Mate, did you know Oscar is married?" Alex asked Logan, Logan frowned and looked up.

"Yeah." Logan answered as if it was a stupid question.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought it was a known thing, I don't know." Logan shrugged. "He's been married since he was 18."

"18!" This was an even bigger shock to the Williams driver.

"Yeah, the moment y/n turned 18, they got married."

"Wow."

And thus the news once again spread, this time the other way around, all the way back to McLaren.

By the time of the driver's parade almost everyone knew that the youngest member on track was married. Oscar was the last on the back of the truck/car thing. All eyes on the Aussie.

"What's... going on?" He asked as he moved down to an empty spot.

"Are you really married?" Charles asked.

"Yeah." It seemed like this was Oscar's favourite answer.

"So I have a daughter in law?" Charles asked and Oscar laughed before nodding. "Wow, they grow up so fast nowadays."

"And you've been married since you were 18?" Max was the one to ask, he's as curious as everyone.

"Yes, the month she turned 18, we got married, and she moved to the UK." Oscar informed them. "And before you ask, I knew her since we were like 5, and have been together since we were 10-11."

"That's crazy." George said to Alex next to him.

By the time the race was underway, a few cameras made it to the McLaren garage for a sight of you. As Oscar was leading the race, the camera flashed to you, with your name and Oscar Piastri's partner under it. The ones watching from home were left confused, but not for long. Oscar won his second race of his Formula 1 career in his 2nd season.

You made it to Parc Ferme, with his parents, his sisters opting to stay in the garage and not get squished. Oscar was the last of the top to make it back, he went to his team before he went straight to you, as always leaving his parents to be hugged after you.

"Congratulations, my love." You tell him, and he squeezes you tighter, the helmet is in the way, but you still kiss the side of it. Oscar then moves to his parents before he goes to get weighed and interviewed by Nico Rosburg.

"-and before we let you go, and not to take away from your win, I have to ask." Nico said and Oscar smiled, he knew what was about to be asked. "Set the records straight, are you married?"

"Yes, have been since I was 18." Oscar said and looked your way, and the camera panned to you, as you stood between his parents smiling with love and adoration for your husband.

"Well, it might be late, but congratulations." Nico said and patted his back, before Oscar made it to the cool-down room.

Cameras snapped a lot of pictures of you, as they waited for the podiums to start. It was obvious how familiar you are with Oscar's parents, and how they treated you like one of their daughters. The interaction was just filled with love and care. This has been going on for years, there's no denying it.

"I didn't know it would be such big news." You said that night, as you and Oscar cuddled on the Sofa, having a quiet moment in the hotel with his family.

"I knew." Nicole said.

"I did too." Chris said.

"Me too." Hattie said.

"Of course it would."

"Obviously."

"Noted." You said and Oscar smiled, kissing the side of your head. "Now everyone knows you have a wife."

"And everyone from your university knows you have a husband."

"You two are still as awful as ever." Hattie said and rolled her eyes teasingly.

"You should've been used to it by now." Nicole said and smiled at her family.

Main Taglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . 

[yolli-es]

Could you possibly write fluff alphabet prompts for the lovely girl Jinx :3

Fluff Alphabet Jinx ❣️

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2 (if you haven't watched it yet), mention of violent acts, psychological problems.

My heart is broken, so I hope this helps heal yours.. Perhaps I misunderstood the request and/or points.

Affection: How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

Touch, touch, touch.

Does this all the time and expects the same from you. Jinx can never help it, she won't even try. Every time you're lost in thought, she'll take your hand and play with your fingers. Gently, lightly, and casually. You won't even notice, but she can do it for hours.

Jinx is very attached to you and never leaves you for more than an hour unless absolutely necessary.

Just let her do it.

Best friend: What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?

Spontaneous. She often said something strange, and after looking at your face, she laughed awkwardly and quickly changed the subject. She came up with strange, sometimes too childish games to have fun and too dangerous to strengthen your relationship.

Like your first meeting. Don't be surprised if you bumped into her or she suddenly tried to steal something from you and then you became friends. This is Jinx.

You quickly got used to it.

Cuddles: Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?

Hug, hug, hug.

Jinx has received many hugs in her life, but never one that was so meaningful and necessary to her. Vi and Silco were important to her, but you have a deeper connection with her. Every hug reminds her that she is not just existing. It gives her strength and faith in her better side.

If she could, she would do it forever. It doesn't matter how, gently or harshly, with love or joy. The main thing is that it's you.

Domestic: Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?

Surprisingly, Jinx is good at cooking. But only because she is picky. Yes, Zaun is not a buffet, but she knows exactly what she wants and how she will get it. She will not let you eat something garbage.

And yet, she just doesn't see the point in cleaning. Haven't you seen her lair?

"If it's dusty, you don't need it; what's the problem, toots?"

Ending: If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

No way.

It would be the end of the world. Break up with you after everything she's been through? Forget it. She'll do anything, from murder to rebuilding her personality. Yes, Jinx will resist and say that she won't do it. But she will. She's too scared. You've done so much for her, and she lives and breathes with you.

If you leave her, she will not leave you alone. Jinx will follow you in the shadows. It is unlikely that you will ever know that she is there, unless Jinx herself wants you to know. She will definitely find a way to come back to you, and believe me, you simply will not have a choice.

In case of an unforeseen situation... she definitely won't survive without someone's support.

Fiance(e): How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?

Never really thought about it. There's too much going on in her life to think about something as simple and mundane as a wedding.

But that doesn't mean she'll never think about it.

It will be like a sudden walk in Zaun when she suddenly sees a married couple and it dawns on her. Most likely, she will propose to you almost immediately after he thinks about it.

Say yes, and she will throw you the most lavish wedding. In her style, of course.

Say no, and she'll just wait before trying again. 

Gentle: How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

Jinx gives you all the tenderness that is left in her. Every time she tries to be more careful with you, especially when she tries to make it pleasant for you. Hugs, kisses, and games, in most cases, will take place in playful and caring touches.

But emotions are too much. Jinx can't control them, even though she tries. She has a hard time talking about her feelings, especially when they don't match yours. This only makes things worse and makes her feel misunderstand. So in her vulnerable moments, Jinx tries to move away from you, just to avoid scaring you and driving you both into a corner of fear and mistrust.

She's trying; give her a chance and time. You are a good influence on her.

Hugs: Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

Jinx hugs you often, and yes, it's the best way to say, "I'm here, and I love you." In most cases, it will do it too tightly; it is quite strong. 

I love you: How fast do they say the L-word?

It's complicated. Even when Jinx confessed to you, she couldn't say it without stumbling and biting her lips.

It didn't get any easier with time. It's easier for her to show with actions than to say. She'll make, listen, steal, sew, cook, and anything but say? Oh... And yet, Jinx knows better than anyone how sometimes it is important to hear confirmation that you are loved. 

And she will say it, definitely.

Jealousy: How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?

It's so bad that she saw the enemy even in her sister. Just once, it was awkward, but still.

Jinx will definitely know if someone likes you. It must be her magic ability. Then she will be even closer, more aggressive, and talkative. She will lose her shyness even if you don't like it. Jinx might show you off her new gadgets with a hint of "Oh, I have no one to test this on." If the person doesn't understand... well, I think he did.

It's not you; no, she's absolutely certain of your loyalty. The problem is in this world and... in her. She's still Jinx, isn't she?

Kisses: What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?

She kisses wherever and whenever she wants. Why should she choose or be shy?

Most of the time, these are innocent and quick pecks on the cheek, lips, and neck. Sometimes, you'll get a barrage of quick kisses, so attack back!

The rest of the time, Jinx does not skimp on long and intense kisses. She will always make the first "trial" kiss as if inviting you to continue and giving you the opportunity to say no. She won't object the rest of the time either, but then you will definitely not get rid of her teasing and sad face for the rest of the day.

Everything she does to you, Jinx expects to get in return.

Little ones: How are they around children?

Doesn't notice them most of the time. It's understandable; most of the children here are doomed.

And yet, if the child becomes a little closer to her than a stranger and Jinx sees the child's sincere affection, it will mean that now this is your child. It does not matter whether he has parents or some problems with anything; now this is your child, and Jinx loves him.

In most cases, she will act playfully with the child, playing out the older sister or "kind" parent. But that doesn't mean she won't eliminate any possible threat to the child. Don't underestimate her.

Morning: How are mornings spent with them?

When she wakes up before you, she lies still while you sleep. Maybe she's just thinking about something, or maybe she might be staring right at you. Maybe she's staring at you while she's thinking about something? As soon as she realizes you're about to wake up, she'll wake you up looking like she just got up and is bored.

When you wake up first, it's all up to you. Watch her, and Jinx will definitely be embarrassed about it after waking up. Wake her up, and Jinx will make a displeased face, only to relax you and attack you with a pillow from behind. Fall asleep again, and Jinx will beat you to it.

It won't be boring.

Night: How are nights spent with them?

Depends on Jinx's condition.

If she was even a little restless, the night would be the same. Jinx would wake up and unwittingly wake you. She's sorry; she didn't mean to.

If everything is fine, she sleeps like a hibernating bear. It seems as if even a nuclear explosion could not wake her up.

Open: When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

Talking about your feelings is a real problem for Jinx, let alone her past. Most likely, you already know a lot thanks to rumors in the city. Jinx will not comment on this in any way.

However, time goes by, and you have already been there more than once in the shittiest moments, opened your soul to her in the most difficult moments, and saved her in the most dangerous. The truth about her is the least she owes you.

Jinx starts slowly, from afar, and as if it's not about her at all. And then the story will get deeper and deeper, and you'll see not Jinx but Powder. After that, you'll be truly close.

Patience: How easily angered are they?

Very easy. A few careless words, and she's furious. Don't worry, Jinx won't hurt you. But she and the others may well suffer. She knows that you didn't wish her any harm, but she can't restrain herself.

Quizzes: How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?

Jinx knows and remembers absolutely everything. For her, every little thing about you is important and valuable. She never knows where and why it might be useful to her, but she is sure that this is important knowledge. Secrets that she will not share.

Remember: What is their favorite moment in your relationship?

Every moment when she thinks, "I knew I was right about you."

One of those favorite moments was at the very beginning of your relationship. Some bastards were hunting her down and were damn close to catching her. When she was cornered, you showed up as their partner. You gloated and laughed, shook their hands, and even pointed a gun at Jinx. And all this in order to destroy these bastards. It was cruel, dirty, and instructive.

No more such gangs were formed.

She loves you so much.

Security: How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?

You won't find a more reliable partner. Jinx will save you at any cost; she is simply unstoppable. She has no fear and no limits when it comes to safety. Zaun does not forgive mistakes.

However, Jinx has never asked and will never ask you for protection. You have saved her many times, and yet she is still convinced that you are fragile and definitely cannot cope on your own.

When it comes to a real fight, Jinx will forget about all the nonsense.

Try: How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

Jinx will pretend that all this is nonsense and that she doesn't care about such trivial things. And then she will invest herself in it as if it is the last thing she will do in her life.

Ugly: What would be some bad habits of theirs?

Blow up anything and anyone.

Vanity: How concerned are they with their looks?

She doesn't care.

Of course, she won’t let herself get to the point of becoming a lump of dirt, but she’s indifferent to anything that doesn’t concern hygiene.

Whole: Would they feel incomplete without you?

Yes, and this is actually tragic.

Jinx tends to get attached to someone and build a very strong bond with them. When you're not around, she's not complete; everything seems to fall out of her hands. Everything that was perfect before doesn't work, and things that Jinx was confident in before are called into question.

She just needs to know how you'll react to anything before making any decisions; Jinx feels empty.

Xtra: A random headcanon for them.

You will definitely get small matching tattoos on your wrists, neck, or stomach. Jinx will be in the most visible place of your bodies. 

She lets you paint her bombs and guns. It's personal to her.

Yuck: What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?

Lies. In any form.

Jinx can't trust herself, so what's she supposed to do if she can't trust you? Even if it's a small thing, don't lie to her. It could become too big.

Zzz: What is a sleep habits of theirs?

Lie down on her, or Jinx will throw all her limbs at you. Don't even think about dodging or moving away; she will grab you tighter.

It helps her feel calmer.

Jinx loves you.

Thank you.

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage

18+ 3k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, somnophilia, drugging, eventual smut. gif | AO3 | fanfic directory

Homelander was born with only one terrible poverty: loneliness. He's been starved of love his entire life, made sick by his hunger for it, but he believes you might have the cure. If you want to survive, you'll find a way to give it to him.

Homelander has never been able to understand people who bird watch. Of all the things a mundane person could do with their abysmally mediocre life, why devote what little free time they have to observing a creature even more dull than they themselves are?

Perhaps it's the gift of flight. By far, it is the ability of his that garners the most attention. Or maybe it's the power trip one experiences when observing something simpler and weaker than yourself for sport. The novelty of becoming endeared by their strange little behaviors and quirks. It's this line of thinking that eventually walks Homelander down the path of people watching. During his downtime, in the quiet moments he spends perched atop skyscrapers and apartment complexes, he finds himself watching the people miles below him scurry about like insects through a colony.

Over time, he begins to recognize regulars. People moving back and forth, day in and day out, no different than ants moving grains back and forth. He has to laugh. It's no wonder god abandoned man. Man is fucking boring.

Even the god they made for themselves thinks so.

To ease the monotony, he concocts little stories for the ones he recognizes. He imagines the kinds of lives they live outside of their commutes and the routines he observes. He names one of them Peter, and every day he invents a new reason Peter is yet again running late for his train. Because he's always late, Peter never stops for the woman selling street meat on the corner across from the station.

Homelander imagines that the meat she peddles is people, and that she's got her eye on that speedy little rabbit, Peter.

And then one day, he notices you.

It isn’t that you’re especially beautiful or noteworthy. Just like all the other busy little bees, you go about your same routine each and every day of the week. Sometimes you're in a rush, other times you enjoy your stroll. Regardless, you always find time to stop and give money to the same homeless man occupying one of the few alleyways protected by an awning. Sometimes you linger to chat, other times you can only stop long enough to drop something into his hands.

It isn't always money. Oftentimes you have food for him packed neatly into a little take-out box. Despite the packaging, it looks homemade. You always have a warm smile for him, even when you’re obviously frazzled.

To the rest of the world, this man may as well be fucking invisible, but here you are handing him a box of home cooked food like he's someone who matters. Homelander is the world's greatest hero, and yet some bum on the street is being fed with more love and attention to detail than he ever has.

It's a goddamn joke. More and more, it becomes apparent to him that you’re pathetically lonely. After a few days of observing you amongst the others, he starts trailing you more actively, forgetting all about Peter and his eventual butcher.

He wants to know more about you.

You live alone, working and cooking for only yourself and your stray pet. Sometimes you cook for your coworkers or the odd friend who stops by before leaving you alone all over again. He watches from a distance while you toil away, cooking more food than you’ll eat in a week for people you see for a fraction of each of your weekdays. It couldn’t be more obvious that you’re desperate for someone to take care of.

In a way, he can relate. 

Maeve has been more distant than ever, choosing to engage him only when there’s a camera present. When it’s only the two of them, she just drinks until he barely recognizes her. Madelyn has begun her “fertility journey,” words that set his teeth on edge, and has barely had a real moment to spare him as of late. The rest of his team doesn’t help abate his loneliness either; Marathon is a washed up hack who can barely sprint these days, Lamplighter is only ever interested in clubbing, the Deep couldn’t hold a conversation in a bucket, and Noir is a mute.

And so he soothes his solitude with thoughts of you. When he isn’t with you, he daydreams about it, imagining what life would look like if your worlds were to intersect. The more he learns about you, the more vivid his fantasies become, and the more intensely he aches when he still finds himself alone in his bed at the end of each night.

It spurs him to visit you more and more.

One particularly warm summer night, you leave your window wide open. He takes it for the invitation it is, drifting towards it under the cover of dark. Your screen is loose and pops out noiselessly. Not exactly safe, even if you do live on the fifth storey.

You just never know what might come lurking out of the shadows.

Slipping into your living room, he’s met with the sound of white noise playing from your bedroom. Is it the sound of the streets below that bother you? You’d never hear it from his penthouse a hundred feet in the air. You could leave the windows open all you like and hear only the roar of the sky, not unlike the ocean waves your phone is poorly mimicking.

He could take you to the actual ocean. A beach house far away from the buzzing neon lights and incessant honking and revving of traffic. Walking through your apartment, he makes his way to your tiny kitchen. The one in his penthouse puts yours to absolute shame, and yet the only thing in it that’s ever been used is the fridge. He’s certain he’s never opened the double oven or so much as turned on the gas range. Meanwhile, your kitchen is riddled with use, each cupboard stuffed with mismatched cookware and the like. It smells of grease and spices and love.

The sad irony of it is almost too much to stomach. You don’t belong in this cramped little sardine can. You should be in a proper kitchen. 

You should be cooking for him. The thought comes to him like a flash of genius. Of course. That’s the answer that will solve both of your little dilemmas. If he is a bird watcher then you’re a songbird snared in a net. It would be inhumane of him to leave you to die before you’re ever appreciated–ever seen–by anyone who matters.

You would worship him for rescuing you. His wealth and power would see each and every one of your material needs met with ease. You would never work for anything again. All you would ever have to concern yourself with was being loved and loving him.

He walks to your room with a hand pressed absently over his heart, cradling the anxious little bundle of nerves that have gathered there. He can tell by your breathing that you’re deep asleep, and yet he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he approaches.

His first time being so near to you after weeks of simply observing.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he steps towards you. The sound of him is masked by the ambient noise spilling from your phone, not to mention the fan you have pointed directly at your bed in a desperate attempt to save yourself from the summer heat.

You clearly weren’t built for this paltry life. Mary was no one before God chose her for greatness. Is that not what he’s about to do for you? It’s the will of a god that elevates you.

He kneels by your bedside, bringing himself face to face with you. Your breathing is even, each huff smelling faintly of mint. Your lips look soft, slightly parted in sleep. Everything about you is gentler, more relaxed than you ever are in the day to day grind of your life.

You could look like this all the time without it. He has the power to change your entire life with nothing more than a couple of numbers shifting from one space to another. Money has always been inconsequential to him, so abundant that it hardly means anything anymore. You, however, are ruled by it.

For the first time in his life, he recognizes the power in his wealth.

He brushes the tips of his gloved fingers along your cheek, down your jaw. He’s never used his hands so tenderly as when he traces your sleeping eyelids with his fingertips, imagining what dreams chase behind them and make them flutter.

You don’t stir. 

Emboldened, he follows the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, imagining how soft you would feel against the bare pad of his finger. Leaning in closer, he indulges in the warmth of your breath tickling his lips. You’re a sound sleeper, the thud of your resting heart beating steadily in his ear.

Closing his eyes, he bridges the distance between your lips, pressing his own lightly to yours. For a second, he thinks he’s woken you, that you’ve caught sight of him and your heart is drumming loudly in his ears. He draws sharply back, but sees that you’re still deep asleep, your features peaceful.

It’s his heart that’s racing, a thundering sound that blocks out every other noise in the room. He’s breathing shallowly, excited in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. There’s a flush crawling up his throat, and it’s at that moment he breaks out into a wide, wondrous smile.

There’s no question of it now.

He has to have you.

The plan to acquire you ends up requiring very little setup. If Madelyn cares why Homelander’s suddenly spending so much, she’s yet to make a comment. 

Bitterly, he thinks it likely that she’s glad to see him distracted. 

He starts preparation by appropriately stocking his kitchen; you’ll appreciate the supply of ingredients, he knows. The quality of what he obtains for you is leagues above what you can afford, as is the cookware. He buys you new clothes, jewelry, imagining every step of the way how you’ll look in each piece. How you’ll look as he takes them off. He’s seeking to upgrade your life in every conceivable way, like bringing a cat home from the pound and teaching it the meaning of luxury.

You’ll want for nothing. You’ll be so grateful to him. And you, the sweet and perfect little thing that you are, make yourself painfully easy to ensnare. You come home under the cover of dark like clockwork, perfectly oblivious to his approach. You’ve just managed to fish your keys out of your bag when his hand closes a kerchief over your mouth and nose, stifling your cry. His other arm slips around your waist, holding you steady. The cloth smells overly sweet, ether-like, and though that scent has no effect on him, you respond to it almost immediately.  “Shhhhshhshh,” he soothes, letting the anesthesia do its job. Fuck, you feel good in his arms, back held tight to his chest, your delicate hands prying at his wrist as you kick, claw and scream–albeit muffled–into the cloth. He holds you with ease, keeping you close to his body, angling you in such a way that you won’t hurt yourself.

Despite your tenacity, you fight a losing battle. Your efforts grow weaker and weaker as you lose your grip on consciousness. He hushes you all the while, encouraging you. “That’s it, let it go. I’ve got you, I’ve got you...” Finally your head falls back against his shoulder, your face lolling into the crook of his neck, the rest of your body falling slack in his arms. He pulls the cloth away from your mouth, tucking it into your bag for now. He turns his head to yours, lips barely ghosting along your forehead. He takes in a deep breath of you, his eyes falling shut. Beneath the sickly sweet smell of the chemical mixture he knocked you out with, he can smell the remnants of your perfume. It’s not his favorite fragrance, but the underlying warm scent of you is intoxicating. He’ll collect whatever belongings you decide you want with you when he returns, if anything, but he doubts you’ll miss much. Your stuff will seem like a heap of rags and garbage by comparison. He’s looking forward to how the perfumes and lotions he’s bought you will smell on your skin, and how you’ll look in the clothing he’s picked for you. He adjusts you into a bridal carry in his arms and gently kicks off from the ground, holding you firm to his chest. The city is beautiful at night, a landscape of stars mirroring that of the sky above it. He’s always loved it here, and yet he’s shared it with a painful few.

Madelyn never lets him take her to the skies. Maeve had been wowed initially, but she had quickly grown disillusioned with it. With him.

You’ll be different. The trip back to his penthouse feels agonizingly slow, but he maintains a lesser pace to keep the wind from rashing your skin, savoring the featherlight weight of you in his arms at last. He lands deftly on his balcony, stepping through his open reinforced glass doors. After laying you down in his bed, he takes a moment to slip off your shoes, setting them aside. He eases your purse off of your shoulder, and places it on the nightstand. After sprawling a thin blanket over you, he takes a step back and puts his hands on his hips to admire the perfectly domestic scene he’s set.

Slowly, he breaks out into a smile. His bed swallows you up, makes you look small and lonely. He’s the missing piece, of course. He’s already looking forward to seeing himself complete the picture in the mirror above you. He imagines coming home to you like this, curled up in his–no, your shared bed, blanket pulled up over your shoulders to block the chill left by his absence.

Oh, how you’ll miss him when he’s gone.

You’ll have nothing and no one to concern yourself with except for him. No burdens, no dread, no stress. You’ll live in peace and security the likes of which you can scarcely imagine, spoiled rotten by the bounty of all that he is.

Neither of you will ever be lonely again.

Tilting his head slightly, he listens to the sound of you. Your breathing is shallow, the beat of your heart steady. Normal people don’t realize it, don’t have the capacity for it, but a heartbeat is as distinct as a fingerprint. Over the years, he’s learned to read them as such. He’s memorized yours. There isn’t much for him to do in the time that you’re asleep. He knows precisely how long you’ll be out; the anesthesia blend he gave you was straight out of Vought’s lab, and the dose he gave you leaves him with at least an hour before the two of you meet properly. The anticipation is enough to make him giddy. For all that Homelander knows about you, there is plenty he does not. The externals of your life have only provided him so much, but that will come in time. He didn’t bother with perusing your social media accounts, not being particularly proficient in them himself. 

Besides, he wants getting to know you to be an organic experience.

He remembers to take your phone out of your bag and dispose of that rag he used to dose you while he’s at it. He unlocks your phone the way he’s seen you do a dozen times before, and spends some time ensuring that no one will be expecting you anywhere any time soon. All it takes is one quick email and you no longer have a job. A few social media posts later, you’ve informed anyone who might think of you that you’ll be enjoying an impromptu sabbatical in Europe.

The power of technology. After that, he pops your phone into the safe behind one of the dozens of portraits on his wall.

When he hears you starting to stir, renewed butterflies start fluttering about in his stomach. You have no idea that your entire life–no, your entire perception of reality–is about to change. No more dodgy commutes, no more living paycheck-to-paycheck. You’ll be free to admire the world from the lap of luxury–his lap, to be specific. You make a quiet moan, the chemical fog wearing off gradually. He moves swiftly to your bedside, primed with a welcoming smile, hands on his hips. “Riiiise and shine, sleepyhead,” he coaxes, leaning forward at the waist. Still disoriented from the drugs in your system, you stare at him as if you’re dreaming. He doesn’t blame you. In almost every other reality, there’s no explanation for the fact you’re seeing America’s favorite hero, the Homelander, standing above you. He knows the side effects of the drug have left a strange buzzing in your ears, and that your tongue likely feels heavy and cottony. He’s already got water for you on the bedside table. “Home…lander?” You manage to get out. His smile broadens. That’s the first time he’s heard you say his name. You look cute like this, bleary-eyed and needy. He’s grown accustomed to seeing you as a put together provider, self-sufficient and tending to the needs of those around you, but rarely your own. Seeing you unraveled feels like a secret intimacy for him alone. “The one and only,” he preens. Now that you’ve seen him posed valiantly by your side, he takes a seat on the bed next to you, reaching out to brush his gloved knuckles along your forehead. He attributes the slight flinch to your drug addled confusion. Poor thing. If he’d had an alternative to using a sedative, he would have preferred that.

Not that it matters now. You’re finally here.

( chapter two )

[the-upside-down-umbrella]

Partners? Partners.

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N Hargreeves, formerly of the Sparrow Academy, finds herself virtually alone in the reset timeline. The Umbrella’s bring her in to their chaos and she builds something new for herself while still navigating the grief of losing her family. She’s happy in the simplicity. That is, until the one Hargreeves she can’t seem to win over comes to her with an offer she might not be able to refuse.

Warnings: Some cursing. Some angst.

(Part 1/?)

A/N: This one will be 4 or 5 parts. A bit of a coffee shop AU if you squint

——————

She missed her family. She missed them so desperately that sometimes when she dreamt of them at night, she would wake up in tears as the loneliness set in and she realized that her dreams were the only place she would see them again. They had been dysfunctional and as far as families go, not that close, but they had been hers. She would never understand how she had survived everything, how she had made it through the reset when the others did not. She technically had Ben but he had distanced himself not just from the Umbrella’s, but from her, as soon as they fell into this timeline. Now he was in prison for a white-collar bitcoin crime and he refused to have visitors altogether. She was well and truly the last of her family.

It got easier with time and she fell into a predictable, mundane routine. For the first time in her life, she was forced to slow down and be a normal human being. No powers. No Sparrow Academy. Just living and surviving.

She found an apartment with a roommate who mostly kept to themselves and a stable, if not a bit boring, job as a barista at a local coffee shop just a block from home. It wasn’t much and some months she was barely scraping by, but it was a start and she was happy.

The other Hargreeves children, the Umbrellas, brought her into the fold of their chaotic family and soon, she began to feel less alone.

She had brunch with Luther every Sunday at his club. They spent that time talking about Sloane, keeping her memory alive between them. She shared her childhood memories of her sister and Luther soaked it all in, grateful to receive any little piece of new information about his wife that he could get. She was thankful for that time with him and happy that someone loved Sloane the way she always deserved to be loved. Even if it was just for a moment.

Diego and Lila had her over for family game night at least once a month and she had coffee with Lila every week at the shop. Their children called her aunt and she made sure that they were properly spoiled, much to their parent's dismay.

She made the trek to Victor’s bar often in the evenings not just for the free drinks, but because he was actually wonderful company and he made sure to carve out time to sit and talk with her whenever he could take a break from running things. Like her, she suspected that he also felt a bit lonely.

Klaus and Allison came as a pair these days. Their dynamic was a sight to behold as Klaus navigated his newfound sobriety, and Allison pulled together a life doing what she loved, to support her daughter. She loved being around them.

But there was one particular family member that Y/N could not quite figure out.

Five.

Apart from their initial interaction at Sloane and Luther’s wedding where he had drunkenly accosted her about her powers, he had barely acknowledged her existence. While she was building relationships with his other siblings, he kept her at arm's length. Sure, he was cordial with her at family events and dinners, but that’s where he drew the line. He rebuffed every attempt she made at finding a connection with him.

That is until he started showing up every morning at the coffee shop she worked at. The same time every morning and the same, predictable order.

The first time he walked through the door she was taken aback. She knew he lived on the other side of town but she chalked it up to some work thing bringing him there.

He made his order, indulged her in small talk, and sat down, opening up a newspaper to read while he sipped his coffee.

She thought it was a one-off, but was very surprised when he turned up the next morning at the same time.

And then the morning after that and the morning after that.

He began conversing with her for longer periods of time, asking questions about her day-to-day life after the reset and even sharing some tidbits of information about himself. She knew he worked for the CIA and had recently moved into a new apartment.

A few weeks went by and each day was the same. It reached the point that she would have his coffee made and the donut he liked set aside before he even made it through the door.

But after a while, her curiosity began to get the better of her. Why was he here? Why was he suddenly showing interest in her and what she was doing with her life? It was making her crazy!

“Your black, boring coffee, sir,” Y/N said in the most sugary sweet voice she could muster, setting the cup down in front of the irritating man in front of her.

Five immediately picked it up and took a deep sip, “Fantastic as usual.”

She pulled the chair out across from him and sat down with a huff, “Cut the crap, Five. We both know you have much closer coffee shops to your apartment. Why, may I ask, do you insist on frequenting mine? Is it just to pester me?”

“Maybe I just like your company,” Five shrugged, leaning back to observe her.

This poked at her ire even more. He was always doing that. Just observing her like some sort of animal in an enclosure. Always there at his little table near the window. Rain or shine.

“Oh please!” She scoffed, “You’ve never given any indication that you even like me, let alone enjoy my company. In fact, until you started showing up here every day, I was pretty sure you hated me. So, again, cut the crap and tell me why you’re really here.”

“Fine,” he said, sitting his mug down so that he could give her his full, undivided attention, “I have a proposition for you.”

“This should be good.”

“My boss wants me to take on a partner,” he explained, “but the problem with that is that I don’t really trust…anyone really. But I’ve watched you these last few years, Y/N, and I know that you’re smart, analytical, and incredibly sharp. Your powers fine-tuned all of your senses and even if you don’t have them anymore, that’s still there. And that’s what I want in a partner.”

“Five, I’m not even trained to work for the CIA,” she reminded him, “I’m sure they’re not going to just let some random person join ranks without experience.”

“But you do have experience,” he insisted, “you’re a Sparrow. You’ve literally been trained since birth to be a fighter, a spy, or whatever else Dad needed us to be.”

“Need I remind you that neither the sparrows nor the umbrellas existed in this timeline? So none of that is going to mean jack shit to anyone.”

“It will if I forge a few documents,” he said, leaning forward so that he could get a clear look at her, “How do you think I got this far looking this young? I’ll do the same for you and everyone will think you’re an FBI transfer. They’ll be none the wiser. Trust me, not everyone high up is as smart as they’d like to think they are.”

She doubted anyone was that stupid.

“Five, this might come as a surprise to you, but I actually really like my life here,” she told him, “it’s peaceful and easy and I don’t really need any more than that. After so long of fighting and striving for perfection for the Sparrows, I’m ready to just settle down and live slowly. So, thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

“You say that,” he chuckled, “you say that you want peace and quiet but I know that’s just something you tell yourself. Because I’ve told myself the same thing and it didn’t suit me. But let’s face it, you’re as unhinged as me. You NEED the chaos. You thrive on it.”

“You’re really not doing yourself any favors here, Five,” she hissed. “Besides, why me? Why haven’t you asked Diego? Hasn’t he been bugging you about bringing in his resume? Make him your partner.”

“Diego and Lila have enough going on in their lives,” he waved her off, “And Diego is a skilled fighter but he lacks in the brains department. Trust me.”

With that final statement, Five stood up and pushed in his chair before downing the last dredges of his coffee, “Just think about it, okay? And until then, I’ll be here every day, as usual. No one makes a cup of coffee quite like you.”

With a wink he left her sitting at the table alone, wondering why on earth she was actually considering his offer.

[sweetfwr]

SKOOL LUV AFFAIR ˒˒ yjw

it’s your junior year, and all you want is to survive the rest of your high school life away from the prying eyes of others. however it seems the universe has other, more absurd plans, like a secret love affair with the student council president.

genre) FLUFF, high school au, secret relationship, kinda based off a true story..

pairing) student council president!jungwon x newspaper club president!reader

wc) 1.3k

now playing) intro (end of the world) - ariana grande

“she seems sadder, doesn’t she?” a girl you hardly know outside of being a classmate and (barely) an acquaintance murmurs pitifully, and a second, taller girl nods vigorously.

“i would be too if i lost lee heeseung.”

you? sadder? you frown in deep thought. you had forgotten to put on concealer after pulling off an all-nighter and practically flew out of the house once you realized you slept through your alarm, but that was about it.

after all, what reason did you have to be sad? in your humble opinion ranking number 5 out of 452 students and recently being named the head of the school newspaper were hardly mundane things. besides, there’s also j—

“there’s no way they’re getting back together, right?? he’s with someone new, for god’s sake!”

“aren’t you updated?” the taller one gasps, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards when her friend shakes her head no. “they just broke up! heeseung told one of the guys on the football team and the news spread everywhere.”

now that’s something you didn’t know.

“oh my god, he’s single now?”

“he’s been single. my friend’s boyfriend’s cousin is in his class. want me to set you up?”

you think you’d rather go down a waterslide lined with razor blades and land into a pool of alcohol than continue on listening to this nonsense, so you pack up your books, turn up the music in your earbuds, and quietly leave the writing club’s room completely undetected by the other two occupants. you dive into the warm, crowded halls adorned with sunspots and ethereal views of the after-school sunset.

needless gossip is something you can definitely tolerate. when your ex is the school’s poster boy for popular kids, you’ve accepted the irrelevant whispers that have surrounded you since your sudden breakup one full year ago, because kids your age make mistakes, and a little positivity goes a long way!

but as you walk through the halls and slowly come to a stop at the sight of a chattering crowd and lee heeseung making his way through it, frantic gaze looking left and right as if he were looking for someone as he holds a absurdly large bouquet of flowers in his right hand, a pit forms in your stomach for what’s to come.

you take one huge step back in preparation to sprint away, but it’s too late when heeseung’s eyes land on you and he goes completely still.

the crowd-goers around him follow suit in an almost comedic fashion, and some even cock their heads and murmur to each other in confusion when they collectively realise who the bouquet is for.

your ex-boyfriend grips the bouquet a little harder and gulps visibly, before making his way to you in slow steps. his friends, a few of which you can name from the back of your head as jay, sunghoon, and jake follow suit and arrange themselves in a line behind him with illustration board signs that bear horribly written lettering. to your absolute horror, it says:

WILL U B MY GF? (again) in bold with a winky ;) face at the end.

needless gossip, you can handle. public confessions from your ex on the other hand, is something that was completely unfathomable to you only 30 minutes ago. who even does public confessions anymore? especially in school. it’s hot, sweaty, and just so… public. you never know who’s watching, either! including… fuck.

in an internal frenzy, your eyes start darting between the numerous people in the crowd until they land on the yang jungwon’s, student council president, eyebrows furrowed and a hand in his pocket while the other was situated in a deadly grip on one of his backpack straps at the commotion.

“hey,” one guy whispers to his friend, eyes nervously shifting between heeseung and jungwon. “he shouldn’t be doing this infront of the student council president, man. he hates racket in the halls.”

slowly, all the color drains from your face and you’re prompted to leave, immediately, even when heeseung gets on one knee and begins loudly proclaiming his love for you. to his and everyone else’s shock, you rush past him and push through the crowds until you’re out of the building gates and into the open air.

at this point the orange swirls in the skies fade to a dark blue and thunder clouds begin to form above, but you’re too irritated to care. who cares about positivity?! your ex has just started weeks worth of rumours about the two of you when you’ve been trying to fight them off for a full 12 months! you think your uniform might be getting soaked, but a fog clouds your mind and you can’t think straight despite the fact that you’re getting poured on by heaps and heaps of heavy rain.

that is, until an umbrella is quietly held over your head, and you know in your heart exactly who the owner is.

you continue walking, albeit at a slower pace, and he follows behind you wordlessly.

“i can’t believe him, won.” you let yourself complain, for the first time in a long while. “he cheats on me, then he lets everyone and their mom in the halls know hes wants me again? talk about guts, right?” you scoff.

“totally.” despite not being able to see him, you hear his smile, and you know it’s not because he finds your complaining silly. rather, he’s just happy to be around you outside of the constraints of prying eyes at school, even if it is while he trails behind you, holding an umbrella over your head under the pouring rain as you curse and release your frustrations to your heart’s content.

in fact, he genuinely can’t think of a better way to think of your six month anniversary, in what in his eyes, is a romantic moment under the rain in the middle of an empty street with his girlfriend.

“he was so cheesy about it too!” you groan, hands reaching up to comically pull at your hair in frustration. at this point, you’ve come down from your hysteria enough that you allow yourself to briefly glance back at jungwon every once in a while. “the signs, seriously? you should’ve seen what they said hon, they—“ you stop in your tracks and take a good look at your boyfriend.

at your abrupt pause and gaping stare, he only cocks his head curiously. “what? keep going.”

“won, you’re soaked.” you murmur sadly, only having realized now that your boyfriend, your real boyfriend wordlessly held an umbrella over your head to let you shout profanities in peace despite getting soaked himself.

he scoffs playfully at your sensitivity. “i can change when i get home, don’t be dramatic.”

completely going against his words, a wide, genuine smile graces your features, all of your previous anger fading away at the sight of your man. “jungwon, you big softy! did that go on for long? how have you been? did you have a good day at school?”

“would’ve been better if i got to see you,” he hummed, playing it cool despite the fact he was soaked in rain water from head to toe. “even if it was just from afar.”

“you were jealous, weren’t you?”

“…i wasn’t.”

you coo at him fondly, and at this he only smiles and looks away bashfully. your boyfriend, the student council president and the one who ranked number 1 out of that 452. the boy who decided to convey his feelings to you over a handwritten letter 6 months to this day and the one who called the shots to keep your relationship secret, for your sake, because he knew that that was what you wanted.

you started off as only co-workers as the editor-in-chief of the school paper and the student council president, but you can’t thank the universe enough for letting you know the beautiful human being that is your boyfriend anyway. at this thought, you grab the umbrella from his hands and toss it away before entrapping him in a bone-crushing hug.

“let’s go home.” you murmur quietly into his neck, “i can lend you clothes.”

he hums in response, more focused on the way your arms wrap around him and give him warmth as he returns the gesture. “that sounds nice.”

“happy monthsary?” “happy monthsary.”

[jumbojazzcats93]

IT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR EAVESDROPPING - GHOST

Summary - Ghost overhears Y/N talking about him on the phone through her open office window while he smokes outside.

Tags/Warnings - GN reader, Mentions of sex, strong language, I fucking love Trixie sm, (green to gold is basically when you're enlisted in the military and then switch to a commissioned officer), banner by @/saradika, @glossysoap @violet-phantoms @lordlydragon @quietlyignoringyou @grizzersmamma @ivymarquis

Chain smoking was arguably one of the unhealthier things he could be doing, but then again, so was eavesdropping on his fellow LT. Not even a green to gold, LT L/N was just 26 and only a few years out of the academy. He knew he didn't really understand half of the phrases floating out of the opened window, but it was great white noise for his tired mind.

"Yeah, no, I'm so not even fucking kidding when I say he's-"

Over the last 45 minutes, Ghost had been tuning in and out as he sat at the smoke pit. His place of duty this week was at the Aid Station teaching combat life savers course. His brain was rotting with the mundanity of the info he was putting out because, aside from some brand new additions to the course, it was all decade old information to him. He tilted his head down as he put his butt out in the ash tray. Maybe he could have the newbies practice nasal intubations on each other... that would certainly be entertaining for everyone, even if it wasn't exactly necessary.

"His name? Uhhh.... well, he's called Ghost by everyone here." His hand froze in the ashtray. "He's a pretty big guy.... strong as fuck, too. Like 6'4, 250lbs type of big." People normally add in a bit about him being scary. He was waiting on it as he lit up another cigarette. "I have to be honest."

Here it comes...

"He's a little intimidating." The sheepish laughter mixed with the words was almost endearing. At least... it was put in a way he didn't normally hear. "But you know what, I have to be honest with you. The way I would fuck him-" He covered his mouth trying to silence his coughing as he began spluttering on smoke. "-it's not even funny."

"What the-"

"I'm a ride he wouldn't survive; the wheels would come right off."

Was his face hot from what he was hearing or from choking? Laughter could be heard through the window, "Bitch, I need him so bad, im not even kidding." No one had ever spoken about him like this. Not that he'd heard. God it was hot all of a sudden. Is he sweating? He wiped his hand over his face and then rubbed both hands on his pants before standing up. Cigarette out on the ground, he crushed it before walking out of the smoke pit and trying not to listen to anymore of the conversation coming through the window.

[librababe99]

Veronica, please stroll with me.

Imagine fem!reader caught Jason humming and then singing a few lines from one of these songs (your choice to pick!): angel baby, die with a smile, i like me better while idly folding clothes, looking so domestic (ughhh, my heart, also idk if it sounds right...english is not my main language) and cozy and war-

Imagine his face! Flustered, yes! Cute, yes! Cheeks looking so squeezeable, 100×yes!

And the ending? You and him sing together while cuddling!

Kat!! Another solid request😍😍 I love all of the song recommendations you gave, but I decided on "Die With A Smile" ---Plus Jason in a domestic setting *swoons*

Title: Die With A Smile

cw: NONE. Fluff. Jason Todd x Fem Reader

Summary: In the Warmth of your shared apartment, you realize how much Jason means to you, cherishing the tender intimacy that exists beyond the chaos of Gotham's streets.

WC: 1.3K

A/N: To enhance the experience I recommend listening to the instrumental version of the song (Here!) while you read along <3

The apartment was quiet when you stepped through the front door, a welcome change from the chaotic rhythm of the city that always seemed to vibrate through Gotham’s streets. You had expected it to be silent—Jason was usually either buried in his work or out on the rooftops, chasing down something far more dangerous than the late autumn chill that clung to the air.

Ooh, Ooh 

You paused, sliding your shoes off with a quiet thud, and closed the door without making too much noise. The melody became clearer now, and it wasn’t hard to place the song. Jason wasn’t exactly the type to blast pop music in his free time, but you’d caught him humming to it more than once when he didn’t think anyone was listening.

I, I just woke up from a dreamWhere you and I had to say goodbyeAnd I don't know what it all meansBut since I survived, I realized

But instead, the soft hum of a familiar tune drifted through the air.

Following the sound, you found him in the kitchen, half-hidden by the doorway, his back to you as he worked on something at the counter. He hadn’t noticed you yet, to absorbed in his task, his humming getting louder as the chorus approached.

Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow Nobody’s promised tomorrow So I’ma love you every night likes its The last night Like it’s the last night 

Your breath hitched at the sight. There was something so intimate about this—Jason completely relaxed, not donning his Red Hood mask or the weight of his past trauma. He was just himself—a man in a worn t-shirt, hair tousled from sleep or maybe just laziness, muscles flexing as he absentmindedly stirred something on the stove. His voice, though unpolished, carried a soft warmth that tugged at your heart.

If the world was ending I’d wanna be next to you If the party was over And our time on Earth was throughI’d wanna hold you just for a while And die with a smile 

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as you watched him, a small smile curling on your lips. How had you gotten so lucky? Jason wasn’t just the damaged vigilante the world saw. He wasn’t only the hard-edged, brash man he had been shaped into by Gotham’s cruelty. He was this—soft, thoughtful, utterly unguarded in the safety of your home.

If the world was ending I’d wanna be next to you

His presence was like gravity, always pulling you back, always reminding you that no matter what he did when the mask was on, he was yours in moments like this.

Jason started to sing under his breath as the song reached its crescendo, his voice uncharacteristically light and free. You could tell he was lost in thought, barely aware of what he was doing. It was such a simple thing, and yet it filled you with a warmth you couldn’t quite put into words.

It wasn’t the moments of adrenaline-fueled action that you cherished, though those had their place. It was this—the quiet, the mundane, the feeling of being a part of his life when the world wasn’t crashing down around you. It was the way his eyes softened when you were alone, how his touch became more tender. He was so much more than the Red Hood. He was your Jason.

Oooh, Ooh

You didn’t want to interrupt the moment, but as if sensing your presence, Jason suddenly paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying that gravelly edge that always seemed to linger even when he was relaxed. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though you could see the faint surprise in his eyes. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you teased, pushing off the doorway to cross the kitchen toward him. “Didn’t know you were so into pop ballads.”

He chuckled, setting the spoon down before turning fully to face you, leaning casually against the counter. “What can I say? I’ve got layers.”

Oooh, lost, lost in the words that we scream I don’t even wanna do this anymore cause you already know what you mean to me and our love’s the only war worth fighting for 

You raised an eyebrow, resting your hands on his chest as you closed the distance between you. “More than you let on,” you murmured, letting your fingers trace along the worn fabric of his shirt. There was something intoxicating about being this close to him—his warmth, the scent of coffee and whatever he was cooking, the way his hands instinctively found their place at your waist.

Jason’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing lightly against your hip. “You okay?”

Your heart swelled at the concern in his voice. Even after all this time, he always checked in, always made sure you were alright. It was a little thing, but it meant the world to you.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his, drinking in every detail of him. “Just… appreciating the view.”

Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow Nobody’s promised tomorrow 

He smirked, tilting his head as if to challenge you. “Oh yeah? You like what you see?”

“Always.” The word slipped from your lips without hesitation, filled with quiet sincerity.

So i’ma love you Every night like its  The last night Like it's the last night 

His expression shifted, the teasing edge fading into something softer, more vulnerable. It was moments like this that made you realize how deeply you connected—no words needed, just the shared understanding that you had both found something rare in each other.

Jason pulled you closer, wrapping his arms fully around you now, holding you tight against him as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The world outside your apartment seemed so far away, like it didn’t exist at all.

You stood like that for what felt like hours, just holding each other, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. Eventually, Jason pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice barely a whisper as he broke the silence.

“You know I don’t deserve you, right?”

You lifted your head to look at him, frowning at the hint of self-doubt in his voice. “You deserve more than you think, Jason.” Your hand cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing gently over the rough stubble. “You deserve this—us. Everything.”

If the world was endingI’d wanna be next to you If the party was over And our time on earth was through 

His eyes searched yours for a moment, the tension slowly melting away as your words sank in. Then he smiled—a real, genuine smile, one you only ever saw in moments like these.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice low and full of affection.

You smiled back, leaning in to kiss him softly. The kiss was slow, unhurried, a quiet promise between you. When you finally pulled apart, Jason rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of your apartment.

I’d wanna hold you just for a while  And die with a smile If the world was ending I’d wanna be next to you 

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. “Let’s go sit down before I burn dinner.”

You laughed softly, and together you moved to the couch, settling in as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Jason pulled you into his arms again, and you nestled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder.

Right Next to you Next to you 

For a long time, you simply sat there, the soft hum of the city outside the only sound. You could feel the steady rise and fall of Jason’s chest beneath you, his warmth surrounding you like a blanket. It was the kind of moment you wished you could freeze in time, hold onto forever.

And as you closed your eyes, listening to the faint, lingering melody of the song still playing in your mind, you knew one thing for certain—this, with Jason, was everything you had ever wanted.

Right next to you Ooh-ohh

[xaverie]

So. I love Evan Kelmp. And - imagine that I'm trying to choose my words carefully here.

I've been getting annoyed with him over the last three episodes. Because. I don't like how he tends to impose his beliefs. About what is correct and should happen. On the other characters. And our Black characters, specifically. Which. Was really put on clear display by his interaction with The Qohlye.

Evan seeks to be understood. But I don't think he has.. put in the required effort to reach that same level of understanding with his friends, or in general. Perhaps because they haven't said things in the exact way that he needs to hear them. But he behaves as though he does understand, even though I personally think. That there are things he's missing.

The treehouse conversation. Lots of people seem to get and relate to Evan's side of the convo, which is fantastic! But not as deep an understanding of Jammer's side. Evan decides that the correct thing is for Jammer to come out not hide his magical experiences. He jumps to a few conclusions about the reason - first that maybe Jammer was ashamed, then that he wasn't confident it would go well.

Instead of asking for clarification about what "They need me to be Whitney, you guys need me to be Jammer" means, he had made up his mind. Evan likes that Jammer is magic because that is the way in which Evan feels most connected to Jammer, thus everyone should admire Jammer for his magical abilities the way Evan does. And if Jammer hasn't allowed for that it's some kind of rebuke of Evan, of magic, and of Jammer's own self. Therefore the only correct thing is to merge these identities, but really just be the Jammer that Evan knows.

And I'm not saying Evan is wrong here. But in the same way he's missing the fact that Jammer did try to expose his magic in S2E1, but he couldn't prove it because magic is fucking broken. He's also missing how naturally we, as Black people, fall into code switching. Not just historically as a method of survival, but for practical reasons, privacy reasons, or just to keep our peace. To treat that unilaterally as the same thing as a kind of toxic compartmentalization, or hiding the true self (all of them are true selves), was. Kinda. Sad to me.

Not to take away from Jammer's triumphant success on Galamanis or the freedom represented by growing wings, because this is what he chose and I love that he made those choices. But it also represents potentially giving up fitting into his mundane life and dream career, something he had fought so so hard to keep thus far, and destroying 'Whitney'. This, more than anything before it, might be a fundamental shift in identity.

The same way it made me a little bit sad that Evan had assumed Jammer didn't mean "family" literally, when I immediately recognized that of course he did. There has never been a point in American history where part of being Black and being family hasn't meant - we may have to be apart, but as soon I'm ready (as soon as we're safe), I'm coming back for you, no matter what. It is THE very first promise, the foundational truth, or the only thread of hope that tied so many Black families together through all these generations.

So while everyone recognizes what a sweet moment it was, I also hope people feel the gravity and the history behind "I dream of making that space for you." And the weight of how many people must have said that before him. And what a profound act of love it's always been because sometimes that's all we have.

When Evan tells Sam, "I think you are the most powerful wizard," she instantly replies, "I hope not." Evan's response to this was essentially - who were are is true whether we want it to be or not. Which, to be fair, is both consistent with what he expressed to Jammer and with his own experience. What it leaves out is that our hopes are also who we are. And that maybe the same way he mistook her love toward him for general gregariousness, he is still misunderstanding her a little.

While he deferred to Sam on the matter of whether they should pursue the Qohlye or not, I think it was still Evan's (or Brennan's) idea that not only must all four of them be chosen, but that The Qohlye must be the best choice for Sam.

When the Qohlye says 'I think you're only here because you're convinced you need to be the same as your friends,' is he wrong? When he asks why she needs to be chosen by his magic specifically, she can't answer on her own. When Sam was given the choice between Power and Understanding she immediately chose understanding because of COURSE she did. (She instantly replies, "I hope not." I hope not. My heart breaks.)

And yet. Evan insists that she's given the power anyway. Because that's what fits neatly into what he already believes is correct and should happen. He believes in winning and rewards. He believes she deserves that power and that they need it. So even though I know he does this out of love, he doesn't even consider for a moment that he might be wrong.

Because Sam does get the power, she does thank him, and again not to diminish Sam's accomplishment - once again Evan gets what he wants and is proven right.

Except.

When The Qohlye doesn't give him the answers he wants in the exact form that he demands them. Evan decides that this is a crime for which The Qohlye deserves to die. The Qohlye, who helped return him to life. Who has a strong connection to his friends. (Who chose to be Black, which meant so much to Jammer that he cried.) Who asked each of his friends, in turn, if they thought The Qohlye meant what Evan thought he meant. Who demonstrated that he is not (and cannot be) obfuscating something that is apparently obvious to everyone else.

Evan refuses to accept that yes, The Qohlye can give him information, but cannot understand it for him. And Evan is not ready to Understand because Evan keeps choosing Power. Understanding takes work, even (or especially) when it doesn't come naturally to you. And answers will not always come in a clear and concise way. And this makes him so angry that he wants The Qohlye dead.

While Evan always presents his beliefs and demands as logical and rational, his reaction to The Qohlye's refusal to engage on his terms was simply entitled and immature.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

So I know you headcanon Nami as a lesbian and Luffy as aroaco (both which is heavily agree with!) What are your romance/sexuality headcanons for the other Strawhats?

Hm. I think Zoro is ace, but not aro, but also the only thing he's really in love with is his dream of fulfilling his promise to Kuina, becoming the greatest swordsman in the world. Once he accomplishes that... well, I am not 100% sure he'll survive accomplishing it, actually, I think the story is signaling pretty hard that his moment of transcendence is going to be connected with the moment of his death (the "King of Hell" thing, all the Buddhism imagery, his tendency to find revelations about swordsmanship on the brink of death) but if he does survive it, that's when maybe romance can become a consideration for him. Maybe. That's when he can figure out who he's even into.

Sanji is extremely romantic - hyperromantic, even - but honestly in a way that's... almost totally disconnected from actual romance? He worships women as divine goddesses and sources of extreme aesthetic and emotional joy for him, but he seems to struggle enormously to actually relate to them a lot of the time. He seems more invested in Being A Gentleman Who Loves Women than he does in... actually being in any sort of a realistic relationship with a woman.

Pudding is the closest he comes to forming an actual romantic relationship, and even then, so much of it is ultimately motivated by his romantic fantasy of Being The Prince, of being the noble, self-sacrificing hero who Saves The Girl, of Being A Good Man. Committing to her is, for him, an act of self-sacrifice, for the sake of his crew, for the sake of his family (Zeff and the Baratie, not the Vinsmokes), and for the sake of her more than it is an earnest desire to build a future with a true partner. He's resigning himself to a life of being her perfect domestic husband servant, in worship and adoration of her, but never in partnership.

In an extremely weird way, the vibe I get from Sanji is he's like a... hyperromantic... aromantic? He's EXTREMELY invested in romantic fantasies, but not so much in the actual day-to-day mundanities of romance, he's in love with the idea of being in love, with the experience of being in love, with the thrill and act and performance of being in love, more than he is in love with any actual person?

Partly this comes down to One Piece just not being a romance story - romance is generally sidelined and elided in most situations, and Sanji's romantic obsessions are played for comedy 99% of the time, they are not taken seriously, so he never has an opportunity to really go through the process of romance as a grounded, flesh-and-blood process, but I can only discuss him as he is presented.

Robin, I think, might be the most straightforward of the crew. I am on board with the Frobin agenda, I think she's probably straight and... if not cis, then about as cis as you can be with a power like the Hana Hana no Mi. And I think she genuinely would be very attracted to a loud, dependable eccentric like Franky, as the other half to her quiet dependable eccentric personality. Especially since he is loudly and obviously an extremely decent man with a heart of gold, and Robin carries so much trauma of being a "devil child," I think she probably needs that kind of uncomplicated light of goodness in her life.

Usopp, again, is probably a fairly straightforward sort. The live action gives him a thing for Kaya, but I could see him being bi or pan, but much like Zoro I don't think he's going to quite have the capacity for Romance™ until he fulfils his dream of becoming a great warrior of the sea (he already has, of course, but he needs to internalize it and realize it within himself). I ONE HUNDRED percent believe he might end up taking a Giant for a spouse.

Franky is... okay this makes no sense whatsoever but I feel that he's gay? But also would fall for Robin? ... but in a gay way???

Look I don't know how that works either, it's a vibe it's a brain feeling it's a wibbly wobbly romance gender sort of situation. Franky is clearly in love with the male body, with masculinity, with maleness, and he especially loves building himself into those images of hypermasculinity, but he does in a way that feels hella queer to me. I don't really think you can be a self-made cyborg building his own body without being some flavor of queer-coded, like, I just don't think that that can be a cishet thing anymore.

He would fall for Robin is my point, in part because they share a knack for creating themselves, in part because Robin would appreciate and need him, in part because she would adore his cybernetic self-creation and find it charming and beautiful, and I think he needs someone who will love his creations (including, y'know, his body) as much as he does.

It's like... y'know how Neo and Trinity in the Matrix are clearly, OBVIOUSLY a t4t couple even though they're both technically cis in the text of the story? It's like that with Frobin for me. Yeah, sure, they're both cis and straight, but also they are trans and gay.

Jinbei I have no idea, actually, he could be into absolutely anything. Kind of a gay bear vibe? That's the best I got. Chopper is a child and I don't think he really has any idea yet either, and Brook... look, I don't think you can be THAT level of flamboyant rockstar and not be some flavor of queer. The Soul King wears Elton John outfits half the time. I don't know that he has a sexuality anymore necessarily (he could be ace, what with the having no carnal flesh and all), but if he's not at least bi romantically then nothing about him makes sense.

[myfictionaldreams]

The Haunting Silence // Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha was your soulmate and she had done everything physically possible to keep you hidden and safe. Every day the two of you spoke through your mind using your soulmate connection but, what happens when suddenly Natasha's mind is silent?

Requested by: @southern-goth​ thank you for the request!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst (lots!), fluff, hurt/comfort, head injury, Sense 8 soulmates AU, Crying/Anxiety, threats of violence, protective Natasha, scissoring, oral sex, fingering, multiple orgasms

Words: 7.5k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link 

Soulmates: two souls that are deeply connected and once successfully found, can communicate through their minds, no matter how far the location or language that was spoken. They were rare and many people were driven insane with the search to find their one true love but not you, you'd accepted years ago that there may never be the chance of ever finding her until fate was on your side.

It had been a beautifully mundane day. The movies like to show a romantic first meeting between two souls tied together from the depths of time, whether it be colliding in a coffee shop, running through the rain or even the hero saving someone from a villain. This was not anything like the start to your story, in fact, there were many details you couldn't remember.

Was it sunny? A Monday? Were you wearing jeans or leggings? You were completely unsure of any of these details but these were all menial with regard to the bigger picture no matter what day it was; it was the best day of your life as you met your soulmate. One minute your thoughts were your own, always described as 'hauntingly silent' by individuals who had already found their soulmates and thought back to the time before meeting their loved one.

Then the next, as you turned towards the exit of your work, your eyes hadn't even connected with her green eyes, still mesmerised by her lips as another silky voice echoed, "Oh", through your mind. It wasn't just this, as a warmth settled through your chest, not realising how empty you had been surviving through life until you finally found her, Natasha, your soulmate.

Natasha Romanoff had recently joined SHIELD when the two of you met but, she was honest about her alter ego Black Widow, as well as her past as an assassin which quickly helped to decide the dynamic of your relationship: a secret.

You were a nurse in a small hospital in the middle of nowhere, it was a surprise to you that Natasha had even found your workplace with it only being used by the locals. This fact actually aided with you being able to keep the relationship secret, you were a nobody in comparison to Natasha, no one would even look in your direction with suspicions or notice a hooded figure sneaking into your home in the middle of the night with your lack of neighbours.

At first, it had been difficult, you'd just found someone you wanted to spend every waking second with but she had to travel around the world and face dangerous missions constantly. However, thankfully with your soulmate connection, you could talk through your minds as long as you were both awake. Then as aliens attacked Earth and the Avengers were formed, you were happy to still be hidden, knowing that if anyone found out about you, they could use you against Natasha so a long-distance relationship it was.

Every single day, the two of you spoke, her words always feeling like being wrapped in a tight warm hug or when the tone changes, a seductive finger sliding down your spine.

Today, you were 5 hours into your shift at the hospital, finding a spare moment to wander down an empty corridor, hugging a report to your chest as a smile widened across your face.

You aren't lying to me, are you? your words were teasing towards Natasha but had every undertone of seriousness behind them.

Natasha had to hide her smile behind the microphone of the headpiece she wore as she was currently flying the Quinjet on the way back from a mission with the Avengers. Why would I lie to you, Milaya?

Your heartbeat quickened at the use of her nickname for you, Milaya, translating to darling, a name that often had you feeling safe and warm. It was also an easy way for Natasha to distract you from your questioning so you shook your head and tried to remain on track with your mind communication.

Please tell me, you encouraged, trying to find out if your soulmate had earned any injuries on this mission.

I'm fine, it's only a scratch on my wrist. - and bruised ribs to match the deep purple shade forming along her jaw where some asshole managed to punch her in the face, but you didn't need to know about that Natasha decided. You were at work and didn't need the distraction.

Hmm fine, I'll believe you for now but I'm going to see if you're lying when you get here in 2 days' time, you responded trying to sound slightly doubtful, having had this conversation with the red-haired assassin far too many times before.

Natasha's mouth quipped into a soft smile that she didn't bother to hide, eyes softening as she looked across the extensive view of clouds. 2 days seemed like such a long time to you both, her stomach twisting uncomfortably thinking about the wait as she decided, I'll try and visit sooner.

Don't rush baby, I would love to see you but please rest. It had been nearly two weeks since you had been able to hold or kiss Natasha and it was almost like you craved to be with her, needing to smell her hair, stroke her bare skin - you were going insane without her around. However, you couldn't help but feel bad that she felt the need to rush to be with you, she was so busy on these missions, hardly eating, sleeping and having to be at peak physical performance at all times. She was doing the very most and travelling across the country to see you whereas you had to sit pretty and wait for her, yes you worked full-time at the hospital but it was hard to compare your fatigue to Natasha's.

I just want to be with you, Natasha finally admitted, her voice losing the confident tone she had been trying to uphold for your benefit.

Your steps slowed to a stop as you stared at a crack in the concrete floor, I want to be with you too. You sighed out loud, wiping a hand down your face before trying to continue the conversation. Where are you at the moment?

Natasha swallowed the lump forming in her throat, the sudden overwhelming sensation to cry needing to pass as she was still surrounded by her friends in the Quinjet who had no idea she had found her soulmate all of those years ago. Looking at her coordinates, she replied, we are flying over Colorado at the moment.

You smiled slightly as you approached the door you had originally been planning on visiting in the hospital, the happiness felt through the bond that Nat could feel her chest warming. Oh, I've always wanted to visit Colorado, I've heard the--.

Silence.

Not the silence that came with being distracted and losing your train of thought but the sort of quiet that left an empty hole in Natasha's chest as she waited for you to finish your sentence but it never came. The assassin sat up further in her seat, heart beginning to pound violently behind her ribcage as the realisation dawned on her that the emotions she was experiencing were the haunting silence she felt before meeting you before there was ever a soulmate connection.

Milaya? Natasha asked into the void of her mind, but there wasn't any sort of response or emotions felt back. Even when you were asleep, Natasha could feel your calmness and sense of contentment through the bond but it was just...lifeless.

MILAYA?! The red-haired woman was screaming through her mind, frantically pulling off her headset as they felt suddenly claustrophobic, forest green eyes darting wildly around the multitude of buttons laid out before her on the jet's console.

Nat hadn't noticed that in her surge of anxiety to try and get you to respond, she had actually begun verbalising her nickname for you, which caught the attention of Tony who was sitting closest to her.

"Who? I'm not naming the jet that Nat, if- Woah". Tony's words were swiftly cut off as Natasha pushed past him, her mouth was painfully dry, eyes wide and unblinking with fear, the match the tremor that had settled in her hands as she grabbed the touchscreen computer typing in your hospital's location.

Her eyes moved faster across the screen than ever before. There was nothing, no reports of an attack, nothing that would be a reason for your bond to completely disappear. Next, she opened the local police scanners and reports but once more, there was nothing that reverted back to the hospital.

Every second that agonisingly ticked past, she continued to scream a mixture between your name and Milaya, hoping there would be some sort of a response but nothing seemed to come of it.

"Natasha? What is it?", it was Steve who was asking now. Natasha's erratic behaviour was quickly questioned by her colleagues and friends who all approached and watched with confusion as she continued to lose all control.

Clint pushed past the others, grabbing onto his best friend's shoulders, his eyebrows furrowing as a tear slipped from the woman's eye, sliding down her cheek. Looking over her shoulder towards the screen, he recognised the hospital name, him being the only person that Natasha trusted with your whereabouts.

"What is it?" Clint demanded.

"I... I can't hear her", Natasha's voice was quiet and displayed her distraught brokenness.

"Her? Who is her?" Tony asked.

"Tony, not now", it was Bruce this time who spoke up, having never seen Natasha lose her composure like this, something had to be seriously wrong.

Clint's hands moved to cup her cheeks, forcing her to look up at him, "Nat, I'm gonna need you to take a deep breath in for me and tell me what's going on."

Natasha removed herself from Clint's grip after taking one steady breath before turning back towards the computer screen, not bothering to wipe away the tears that she couldn't stop from falling as she attempted to log into the hospital's CCTV. From there, she rewound the feed to a couple of minutes ago and began to search through the corridors.

"Can someone explain what's going on, please?" Steve asked, more sternly than before, trying to find some answers that he wasn't getting.

However, the Black Widow wasn't listening, becoming even more panic-stricken with each passing second as she searched for you on the screen until finally, some air returned to her lungs as she found you walking down a deserted corridor, the footage a minute before the bond suddenly stopped. Natasha nearly smiled at seeing you there, even though she couldn't see the details of your face due to the low-quality cameras.

Tentatively, she, along with the rest of the Avengers, watched you walk down the corridor. Nat's eyes continued to glance at the time, watching it tick down as you approached the door at the end of the corridor, opened it and stepped in and then nothing as it was the time everything became silent. There were no further camera feeds in that room, you were simply there one minute and then something happened in the room and the bond was gone.

Natasha rested her head against the computer, closing her eyes to put all of her effort into shouting your name into the void in her mind but the only thing that responded was the silence and the disrupting shouting from the people around her was distracting.

"Everyone shut up!", she demanded with authority, thinking hard enough that it was beginning to form a migraine.

Glancing towards Clint, who looked just as worried as she felt, he asked, "Nothing? What about here?" he tapped against his chest, directly over his heart.

Natasha shook her head before a red suitcase caught her eye line. Taking a step towards Tony she demanded, "Give me the iron man suit".

Tony scoffed, "What? Not until you explain what's happening- wait what the fuck?!"

"GIVE ME THE SUIT!", Natasha had lost all composure, not thinking clearly, only thinking about you as a priority as she reached into her holster and within half a second, had her gun pointed towards Tony's head.

"Natasha, put the gun down, NOW.", Steve demanded, taking a step towards the billionaire like he was going to stand in front of the gun for his friend.

Nat began to cry, still mumbling, "Give me the suit Tony", the hand holding the gun still visibly shaking. Clin stepped directly in the path between the gun and Tony before Steve could, he held up his hands for good measure to show he didn't mean any harm.

"Nat listen to me", his voice was calm and low as he spoke, like he was talking to a frightened animal. "Even if you wear his iron man suit, I don't think you're in the right mindset to be by yourself so this is what's going to happen. You're going to lose the gun and I'm going to sit in the pilot seat and fly us to her, we'll be there in a couple of hours but you need to calm down right now, this jet is too small to be firing guns and you know it".

She knew he was right, thankful that she had a friend to talk some sense into her as she lowered the gun, nodding her head towards Clint who rushed to the seat she was just sitting in, placing the headset over his head. Returning the gun back into her holster and watching as Clint increased the speed of the jet, she suddenly jumped as Bruce began talking to her.

"How long has it been since you found her?" he offered her a warm drink that she hadn't noticed him pour for her. Of course, Bruce was the first to suss out what was going on. Nat held the warm drink in her hands and forced herself to drink it, even though the nausea she felt was overwhelming, she needed to try and keep calm.

"Before I knew any of you...except for Clint", Natasha admitted quietly, sitting in one of the seats surrounding the edge of the Quinjet.

Steve sighed heavily, sitting next to her, now understanding just what was going on.

"Wait, so you've had a soulmate this entire time and you didn't tell any of us?" Tony asked, sounding slightly disheartened by the news.

"I had...I NEEDED to keep her safe Tony. Do you really think our jobs don't come without any repercussions?" Tony shivered at Nat's words, thinking about the number of times his soulmate Pepper had been caught in the crossfire due to him being Iron Man. "Exactly. I can't lose her, she's... the only person I have and the only one I let get close to me, she's my only one and now, she's not answering my calls, something is wrong, I know it is".

The Avengers all nodded their head solemnly, understanding why she had reacted the way that she did. Tony sat opposite Nat, eyes full of remorse, "So is her name Milaya? That's what I heard you say earlier".

Natasha released a half-assed chuckle beneath her breath, "No that's just a nickname, her name is y/n", she allowed herself to smile for a split second, thinking about the first time she'd called you Milaya and how fond you were of it.

Then realisation dawned on her that this was really happening. Not only were you potentially in danger but now the Avengers also knew about you, could this potentially mean you didn't need to hide anymore? Shaking her head she left that thought for another time, needing to make sure you were ok first.

"Everyone strap in", Clint shouted over his shoulder, the jet beginning to reach it's maximum speed. Natasha attached the buckles around herself tightly, dropping her head back and continued to try and shout down the bond.

Clint landed in the near-empty car park in record timing much to Natasha's relief, who hardly waited for the doors to fully open before jumping down onto the tarmac. Even though the car park was bare for vehicles, there was still a scattering of people gathered around, visiting people in the hospital or using the facilities which meant, as the Avengers were suddenly in this forgotten-about town, it caught their attention quickly, shouts and whispers from every direction.

This didn't stop the group however as they followed Natasha into the building, her footsteps fierce and confident, face full of determination, all tears gone as anger replaced those feelings. There wasn't any immediate sigh of distress as they entered the building, and no sign of an attack still or police presence.

The reception lay straight ahead, and immediately, Natasha knew that it was the receptionist Bonnie behind the counter, someone you had talked about with affection on many occasions and it dawned on the assassin that she probably knew every professional in this small building.

Trying to not sound too aggressive but still holding the urgent tone, Natasha stopped before the counter, staring at Bonnie who looked up with comically wide eyes, glancing at each of the Avengers before looking back at Black Widow as she began speaking, "Y/N, where is she?"

Bonnie frowned in bewilderment, "Nurse Y/N? But how did you know-"

Natasha's heart dropped painfully as the receptionist seemed to confirm that something had happened. Beginning to lose her composure once more, her voice raised in noise level as she demanded, "Where is she? Is she even here? Did someone take her? Is she dead-?"

Bonnie quickly cut off Natasha's rant, standing from her seat with raised hands, "No! No she's not dead but something did happen earlier, let me take you to her".

She directed the group down a corridor, half running with how fast Natasha was trying to walk in front of her, ignoring the stares from the other patients and professionals. As they approached a series of windowed rooms, Bonnie began to explain what had happened.

"A ... a guy came in earlier, we think he snuck through the basement but he was caught stealing meds which were where Nurse Y/N was stationed and...she found him in the cupboard and he hit her hard across the head, by the time we found her, the guy was gone and she was unconscious on the floor. The doctors are still waiting for her to wake up was the last update that I had".

Natasha was reeling from the information, knees momentarily buckling but Clint was right behind her, hand under her arm to keep her upright and moving. You were alive, that was the information that alarmed through her mind, you were unconscious that was why she couldn't feel the concentration, it wasn't like you were asleep and could wake at any time, you'd been forcibly put to sleep, your body healing and cold.

Then there was the fact that someone had actually hurt and injured HER soulmate, right now, you were her priority but the second you were feeling better, nothing and no law would stop Natasha from hunting this guy down.

Suddenly Bonnie stopped in front of a large window that looked into a private room that had light filtering through the blinds causing an orange hue to shift across where you lay in the hospital bed in the centre of the room. There were a few machines scattered around that were monitoring your observations and a nurse recording the results standing next to the bed.

Natasha had to use every part of her training to try and hold back the audible sob that threatened to explode from her mouth as she didn't wait for permission to walk into the room. However, no one seemed to have the courage to even question the Avenger, all looking confused between her and the other heroes, nurses and healthcare assistants gathering to see what all the commotion was about.

The nurse turned, hearing someone else entering to room, her eyes widening just as exaggeratedly as Bonnie's and Natasha was quick to read his name tag, Chris. Internally she smiled knowing you were in good hands, Chris had a reputation at the hospital for his quality of care and that you and he were close friends, it must have been hard for him to then stay professional and give care for his friends.

"Is...Is she ok?" Natasha finally found her tongue to ask the Nurse, her green eyes wandering over every inch of your body. You looked almost peaceful, except for the fact that you were still in your Nurse tunic and there was a bandage plastered to your forehead.

A wave of nauseous anger rushed through Nat's body but she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Chris's full attention was now on the Avenger as he answered her question with a surprisingly sturdy tone considering he was talking to one of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. "She's had several stitches to close the injury, we found a metal pole next to her covered in blood so she took a strong hit. Thankfully there's no internal damage shown in the scans and she's yet to wake up but her observations have remained stable. Even if she wakes, she'll need to stay for a day or so to fully assess the damage."

The red-haired woman nodded, feeling somewhat relieved hearing this.

"Natasha?" Clint asked from the doorway having heard what Chris had said, waiting until the assassin turned towards him before continuing. "You good? We'll get out of here to give you some space just... keep in touch, will you? Let us know when she wakes up and-", his voice lowered dangerously low, "we'll find the guy".

Natasha nodded thankfully, even though she wanted to find whoever did this, the promising look in Clint's eyes she knew to trust that he had it covered. The rest of the Avengers shuffled back down the corridor, waving at the onlookers, thankfully taking the spotlight off of Natasha for a second as she attempted to step closer to you.

With no one there to hold her up, her knees buckled once more with overwhelming relief pulsing through her heart as she reached for your hand, her eyes filling with tears at the warm skin of your hand against yours, finally feeling grounded and connected to you.

Chris was quick to provide a chair for the Assassin, leaving the two of you and ushering away the spectators through the window, Natasha decided she would find him later to thank him for this.

"Oh Milaya," Natasha sighed as her face searched yours, hand gripping yours before stroking the back with his thumb.

The movement seemed to stir something with you as your fingers twitched in her grasp, a moan releasing from your mouth, eyes flicking beneath your still-closed eyelids. It almost felt like instinct for you to turn your head towards Natasha, feeling her presence there as the further you stirred, the mouth the empty hole in Natasha's chest filled with your bond.

"Natasha?" you whispered, voice thick and slurring slightly.

Nat brushed her other hand across your cheek, leaning down to lightly kiss the part of your temple that wasn't covered in bandages, mumbling "I'm here, baby". For this once, she absolutely didn't care who could see the two of you, Natasha allowed herself to be vulnerable for a moment, she thought she'd lost you, there was no way she was wasting another moment again.

A further hour passed before you moved again, sucking in a deep breath to properly fill your lungs and frowning, feeling something was off but not sure what. Blinking open your eyes, you flinched at the bright light that sent pain sparking across your head.

"Milaya?", Natasha whispered, careful to keep the noise down to not affect your sensitive senses. Her thumb brushed across your soft cheek, trying to help you arouse so she could see your pretty eyes.

"Nat?" you asked again, voice still sounding just as slurred and thick as before, "Am I dreaming?".

Eventually, your eyes opened, squinting against the orange light still pouring through the outside window. Even though the doctors had been giving you pain relief through your IV that was attached to the back of your hand that Natasha wasn't holding, you were still sensitive to the lingering concussion.

"There are those pretty eyes", Natasha praised as you looked at her hovering over you. "You aren't dreaming, you're ok, you're safe".

"What- What's going on?" you asked, feeling like something was wrong but not quite understanding just yet. You were confused and dazed still. Attempting to sit up, you frowned as your soulmate pushed against your shoulders, keeping you lying but you were only attempting to be closer to her.

"Hey it's ok, you don't need to get up, you need to rest", Nat encouraged, watching as you looked down at your body, observing the leads attached to various areas to monitor your observations, the cannula in your hand to the heavy feeling in your head, lifting said hand to brush over the soft material of the bandage on your head. Natasha cupped your hand and pulled it away from your injury, "Be careful my love, you've been hurt, don't touch it".

"I've been hurt?" you asked with confusion but the slur was very much still evident, you still need to rest and recover.

"Yeah, do you ... remember anything that's happened? Do you know what day it is?" Natasha asked, staring down worriedly at you.

You tried to think hard about today but your mind continued to be blank with delirium. "Uh... I don't remember anything. I feel like I'm floating through space", you admitted but then something dawned on you, even though you couldn't name what day it was, you knew you were at work, having been in this particular room hundreds of times and Natasha was definitely next to you right now, still dressed in her Black Widow uniform. Eyes flicking over her shoulder to the indoor window, you could see some of your colleagues walking around. "You're here! In front of everyone, they'll see you, Natasha!"

Natasha's eyes softened, hands coming up to cradle your face, "Shhh Milaya, I don't care that they've seen me. Baby, I thought you were dead." Her eyes dropped from yours to stare at your name tag that was clipped to your tunic, willing the heavy emotions to remain at bay, you needed to rest and she didn't want to make you more upset. "We were talking and then you were silent but usually, I can feel you even when you're asleep but there was nothing and I couldn't... I had to come here, I thought you were in danger, I mean, you were in danger! Apparently, some asshole was stealing med and you found him so he hit you with a metal bar".

"I'm sorry I scared you", you responded, feeling overwhelming guilt over the situation but still feeling completely dazed and out of it. "Will you stay?" you asked hopefully, reaching up to touch her cheek gently.

"I'm not leaving your side", Natasha confirmed.

"Good". The two of you stayed silent for a few minutes as the assassin returned to sitting in her seat, lifting your hand to place it back against her cheek so she could nuzzle into it. You smiled at her softness, something she didn't often like to display before something else caught your eye, your fingers nimbly grasping her chin to turn her head away from you so you could look at her chin, seeing the painful bruise there, "I thought it was just a scratch you got on this mission?" you asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, so you do remember somethings", Natasha smirked, referring to the conversation the two of you were having before you were attacked.

"Oh little bits," you admitted, "I bet we look like a right pair", you joked, eyes closing with heaviness suddenly exhausted.

"Get some sleep Milaya", Natasha muttered against the palm of your hand.

I love you, you spoke into the mind connection, feeling heat spreading across your chest with love.

Natasha had never heard such beautiful words before, sighing and leaning over before she could stop herself to kiss your lips softly, audibly whispering, "I love you too".

Thankfully, 24 hours later you were discharged and finally bombarded by your friends and colleagues that were swiftly brushed away by Natasha as she led you towards the exit, but she quickly admitted that her phone had been going off constantly from the Avengers, wanting to invite you over soon to be introduced.

It took Clint three hours to find the man responsible for the attack and had been keeping him in a secret holding for Natasha, not that the woman was rushing to leave your side any time soon.

The days passed by and you were forced to rest by both the Doctor and Natasha, who was quick to do anything and everything for you and you were more than thankful, the symptoms of the concussion taking longer than you'd anticipated to wear off.

Finally, you felt strong enough to climb out of bed, the smell of food being cooked coming from the kitchen had your stomach growling in hunger as you quickly had a shower, still careful of the plaster over your stitches but the massive bandage had been removed thankfully.

After dressing in only an oversized top and shorts, you smiled lovingly at the sight of Natasha in the kitchen, standing in dark joggers and a thin grey vest, her hands moving skillfully over the food that was cooking, toast popping up in the toaster.

You began to move forward with the plan to help her by buttering the toast, greeting her with a "Hello beautiful", and reaching for the knife and butter. However, your attempts were futile as Natasha snatched away the utensil.

"Nope, I'm doing that, go and sit down please", she began moving away from you, to continue with her cooking.

Rolling your eyes, you simply found another butter knife from the drawer and moved back to the toast, "I'm fine! I can butter my own toast, Natasha".

Once again, she simply removed the knife from your hand, shaking her head with a throaty laugh, "I'm looking after you so go and sit down".

"You have looked after me and I'm feeling almost normal except for the stitches", you admitted, pulling the toast over from the toaster and placing it onto the plate, moving closer to Nat to try and snatch the knives out of her hand but she held it at arm's length, still smirking. "You're relentless you know that?" you finally admit defeat, hand dropping to your side.

You watched her move for a moment, not planning on sitting down at all before stepping behind her as she stirred something in one of the pans. Your hands rested against her waist, fingers teasing along the hem of her vest to finally slip beneath and feel her warm, soft skin as your lips kissed along her exposed shoulder. You smiled against her, hearing the relaxed sigh escape her mouth.

"Hmm... and you are good at distractions", Natasha quipped over her shoulder, leaning into your touch.

"I've missed you," you admitted thoroughly, even though the two of you had been together for the last few days, due to you resting, you hadn't been able to be intimate and you missed her, especially being away for so long before the attack.

I've missed you too, Milaya. Natasha spoke through your mind, hands moving to rest over yours before turning slightly towards you. "But- I need you to eat first, your stomach growling woke me up this morning and I'd feel much more content knowing your belly as full before I take your clothes off".

You swallowed harshly at the end of her sentence, thankful that she wasn't fighting you on being intimate and you could deal with the request, kissing her mouth quickly before stepping back towards the table that was already set for the two of you to eat.

Sitting down, you watched mesmerised as she cooked, it looking almost like she was dancing around the kitchen, you knew you could never be as graceful as her but she also had extensive training which aided with her movements. Your core clenched though as her vest continued to ride up on her hips, exposing more of her stomach and you wanted nothing more than to lick the area.

"Having fun over there?" Natasha asked with a wicked smirk plastered on her beautiful face as she observed your wandering eyes and the shifting you were doing on the chair with your obvious arousal.

You bite your lip to hide your grin at being caught, not quite finding the words to respond that wasn't a request to take her clothes off so you distracted yourself by drinking the glass of water that was already placed on the table.

The two of you ate and chatted about Natasha's teammates, especially Tony who had sent about 50 invitations to you to join the numerous events that were coming up that the Avengers had to attend, hoping you would accept one so he could bombard you with questions.

You both had decided that you'd attend one eventually, increasing the security would be easier now as you didn't need to hide away. This new found freedom was exhilarating and you couldn't wait to walk down the street, holding her hand and showing everyone that she was yours.

Scrapping the plate clean and moaning at how good the food tasted, you stood to wash up the plates but once again, Natasha was grabbing the plates from your hands, moving over to the sink and placing them into the warm water.

"We can do that later", she informed, extending her slender hand for you to take and leading the way towards the bedroom. The two of you lay in the centre of the bed, your eyes were already heavy, you hadn't realised just how tired you were, with a full stomach and it had been the most you'd moved in days and had exhausted you quickly.

You felt bad having teased her and attempted to reach for her but she easily held down your arms, pulling your body against hers, fingers moving delicately across your scalp in a calming manner. "Get some sleep baby, I'll be here when you wake up".

When you finally woke, you were greeted with the peaceful sight of Natasha also sleeping, her features completely relaxed. Watching her for a moment, you carefully lifted your hand, attempting to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear but in a blink, your hand was stopped in midair as Natasha gripped your wrist.

You grinned as she opened her eyes, "It's really creepy when you do that".

Natasha's plump lips tilted into a smirk, her eyes flicking across your face as she bought your wrist up to her mouth, kissing the sensitive skin on the inside that sent a shiver through your spine. "You love how quick I am, really", she teased, her voice completely sultry to match the darkening look in her eyes.

"I love everything about you", you countered, leaning closer, finally closing the gap between your lips. Both of you released a heavy sigh, breaths fanning across each other's faces at finally touching. Your skin burned instantly, feeling like there were tiny electric pulses coming from wherever your skin met and it always felt like that when it was with your soulmate, intense and powerful.

Natasha broke the kiss first but only to move down your cheek, on her own journey to reach your lobe, nibbling the sensitive flesh between her teeth that caused a deep moan to vibrate in your chest as your fingers reached for the thin straps on her shoulders, efficiently pushing them down.

"My Milaya", Natasha whispered against your ear, her fingers, pushing underneath your shirt to do their own exploration. Just before the tips of your fingers began to graze over her now exposed breasts, she pushed you fully onto your back, easily rolling on top, straddling over your abdomen her shoulder-length hair falling and framing her face as she leaned over you. "Let me make you feel good".

You mewled in response, admiring the beauty that she was, the way her lips parted and shined in the light, the straps dropped off of her shoulder that allowed for her vest to drop and reveal her perked breasts that were desperate to be touched. A finger slid under your chin as she looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"You're so beautiful Natalia", you praised, hoping your eyes showed as much affection as your words did. Natasha's shoulders visibly dropped with love at the use of her birth name before she was leaning over you and kissing you fiercely, desperately moving, tongue pushing and flicking against your own, both moaning as you could taste each other.

Your hips lifted trying to find some friction but ended up grinding against Nat who groaned at the contact, her fingers suddenly reaching to grasp the edges of her vest, pausing the kiss for a second so she could remove the offensive material before moving back down to your mouth.

It felt so good to have her chest naked, rubbing against your t-shirt, that she was willing to be so bare before you. Your fingers caressed down her spine first before pulling around to the front, grazing over her scars and careful of her still healing bruised ribs that didn't seem to phase Nat anymore as you finally cupped her tits.

You felt the weight of them against your palm, squishing the beautiful flesh before tweaking her pretty nipples, earning a grind down from Nat's hips on your abdomen. Smiling against her mouth, you knew she had ultra-sensitive nipples which only made it more fun to play with them, hearing the desperate little moans she would release.

Suddenly, you were left cold and reaching for more as Nat sat up, pushing her hair out of her face as she looked down at you, "take off your clothes", she demanded whilst climbing off of your lap to remove her joggers speedily. You did as instructed, first removing your shirt and then your underwear before lying back down and Nat was straight away straddling your body again.

With no layers of material between the two of you, her bare, noticeably wet cunt now lay against your abdomen. Your hands went to her hips to grind her hips further against you, making her rock her body against yours as she leaned down once more to kiss you, your breasts rubbing together as her pussy rolled against your stomach.

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good", Nat whispered breathlessly against your neck of which she had moved to leave open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin.

You chuckled, releasing her hip with one hand to reach between your bodies to play with her nipple again, feeling the vibration of her moan melt into where your chests touched. "You are making me feel good", you responded just as breathlessly, rubbing your thighs together and feeling how wet you were.

The assassin suddenly moved, half climbing down your body and moving one of your legs over her hip, lowering her hips and then her cunt was stroking against yours. The two of you moaned, and your eyes flicked between her now swollen parted lips and where her hips began rolling against yours, your clit brushing against yours, both of your juices mixing together.

You matched her movements, gripping onto the leg that she had positioned over yours still, your hips rolling with hers, both gasping and mewling as your clits were rubbed and swiped against each other.

"Feel so good baby", Natasha praised, her hand coming up to cup against your breast, massaging the flesh slowly to match the thrusting of her hips. Your head flung back as she tweaked your pebbled nipples as she pressed especially hard against your clit. "Do you like when I rub on you Milaya?" she asked you, feeling her cunt pulse with arousal at seeing you experience such pleasure.

"Yes, feel so so good", you groaned, also reaching up to play with her tits, before sitting up slightly and pulling her face down, kissing her desperately as you both chased your highs, clits still sliding against one another with how wet you both were.

You were so close, your core beginning to tighten as you began to chant her name like a prayer, needing and wanting her, begging not to stop as Natasha was responding with just as much desperation.

Your cunt then started fluttering as you came, hands gripping onto Natasha hard enough that you were sure to leave bruises but it just felt so good that you couldn't stop. Natasha continued her movements for a few further minutes, finding her own release with a beautiful gasp.

You had planned for her to catch her breath but she was moving before you could comprehend that she was, your legs being pushed back against your chest to expose your soaked cunt to her as she lay down on her stomach, eyes connecting with yours as her mouth dropped to your pussy.

She began by licking up everything you had spilt, moaning at the taste of yours and her juices, tongue pushing through your folds before teasing your hole that was still twitching to be filled. Your hands replaced hers with holding up your leg, of which she gave a long lick up your entire middle as a reward, now freeing up her hands. With one, she spread you open, giving her the perfect view of your clit and hole and then she was diving right in, her lips sealing around your clit and sucking whilst two of her powerful fingers pushed inside of you, curling instantly about your special spot.

"Oh my god- Natasha!" you moaned, and you could feel her smiling against your bundle of nerves at your reaction, seeing your eyes closed to concentrate solely on the pleasure that was being given you. This was all you had wanted for weeks, to be with her, spend time touching and pleasuring each other's bodies, feel the bond glowing and strengthening with the time spent together.

Natasha's skilled tongue and fingers drew a toe-curling orgasm out of you, your back arching to try and grind your hips on her face. She had been a master at work, her eyes never leaving your face as she watched you go through all the stages of pleasure.

You were then rolling the two of you over, and you wanted nothing more than repay her with your tongue but you still had to be careful of the stitches on your forehead. So instead, you used your fingers in her soaking cunt and your mouth sucked leisurely on her nipples which had her clenching around your fingers, your thumb stroking against her throbbing clit.

"Milaya, don't stop", Natasha cried out, hands clenching into the sheet below, her thighs shaking around your hand, a pink glow to her cheeks as she watched you move from one breast to the next. You didn't stop, wouldn't stop until she was cuming around you and the way her walls were becoming tighter, her breaths coming out in short bursts you knew it would be soon.

"Cum for me 'Tasha, wanna hear your moans", you encouraged after releasing her nipple for a second and then going straight back to sucking it harshly into the back of your mouth.

"Ah! Yes-!", Nat's eyes rolled back as she began quivering around your fingers and you didn't stop your movements, making sure to draw out every ounce of pleasure that you could, until her hips jolted through overstimulation.

Easing your fingers out of you, you quickly drew them to your mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of her before she was sitting up and kissed your lips. Her tongue stroked against yours and you could taste yourself on her, and you hoped she could do the same taste herself on your mouth.

Then you were both collapsing into the middle of the bed, limbs tangled together facing one another and trying to catch your breaths, sweat glistening off of your bodies. Smiling softly at her beautiful expression, feeling her thumb stroke near to your stitches, you asked, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

"I'm just thankful you're here with me, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you", she admitted in nothing more than a whispering volume.

Reaching to take her hand in your own, you kissed her knuckles, feeling the scars beneath your lips, "You don't ever have to worry about that baby".

[etherealily]

art // f.odair

Part 1 : Guilt

[2/3] Long.

Finnick Odair + fem!reader. Warnings : Cuss words, SFW but discretion advised, mature themes, hurt/comfort

Desc. : The trauma card.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

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SIX WEEKS LATER

Finnick doesn't know when it happened.

His plan had been to basically only shift Snow's focus from his family to you. You, a random stranger he could have zero ties to and could afford to lose if times got tough.

But now? His focus had been shifted from survival to you.

He finds himself mulling about, wallowing in too much sorrow to have been unnoticeable.

He didn't need this. He was already dealing with his own problems.

Thankfully, you didn't seem to have taken the ordeal during the Games too seriously, and now he was back to having only an endless string of Capitol assholes in his bed every other week.

Thankfully, because he had no idea what the hell he'd do if you actually ended up getting attached, or looking to him as some sort of protection, or actually caring or loving him - his heart couldn't take that. His conscience couldn't take that.

Or maybe, he had it all wrong.

Maybe you weren't distancing yourself because you didn't give a shit about him.

Maybe his well-being had nothing to do with this.

Maybe you were distancing yourself because you hated that Faye had died.

Right. Made more sense. What a narcissist he is.

Worst part of all this, as mentioned, was that he was actually starting to give a shit. A thing, he'd been told, he did far too often.

In the week you'd spent at the Capitol with him, he'd grown to like far too much about you.

You cared about Faye? He liked that, a lot.

You got really worried every time he came back from 'filming promos' with bruises? He liked the way you tried helping the only way you could. Which was, apparently, trying to take his mind off of it by regaling him with the mundanities of a day in your life back in Four.

But what he especially liked was that you didn't absolutely lose your shit in laughter when he held your hand in his sleep. He figured you'd pull away. He figured you'd snort and call him a baby.

But you didn't.

You didn't just let him, you allowed him, which, in honesty, only Finnick knew best how different those two were.

And he loved you all the more for it.

Liked. He liked you all the more for it.

"Hey.", he says, looking up from his rope to you.

He loves when he gets to come back to Four, but what he loves most is when he gets to come back to you.

Because you understood. You didn't understand the full extent of what he went through at the Capitol, but you'd spent enough time there to know that it wasn't really a place you could miss.

"Hi, Finnick.", you reply, sitting by him. "You don't get rope burn?"

"I do. But check this out.", he boasts, baring his calloused, red palms to you. "Scars of a warrior. And...", he begins, tugging on the ends of the knot and tightening it, "...knot of a warrior. It's impossible to undo. Try, c'mon."

"I'll take your word for it."

He shrugs, gently tossing the rope down and listening to the soft shift of sand to make space for it. See, he'd always loved this about sand. Always, always made space for anything. No matter how pathetic. How broken. How sinful.

"I was thinking."

You look up from the rope on the sand beside your feet up to his eyes. "Mhm?"

"Maybe... y'know, only if you're interested... I mean, I'll teach you how to take photos.", he says, coolly, his dimpled grin coming in to save the day, his sea-green eyes running over your face desperately, and his sun-touched hair being moved by the wind and placed elegantly in front of those very eyes.

"With your camera?"

"What else?"

"I just... you're really protective over it."

"No, I'm not."

"You slept hugging it."

"Well, yeah, 'cause you were in the Viewing Room, and I-"

He decides it's best to shut up then.

"I'm not protective over my camera. Do you wanna learn or not?"

"Sure."

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That night sees him leaning back on the couch, welling up with tears of laughter as you struggled to hold the fucking thing properly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!", he yells between laughs as he sees you pissed and threatening to smash the camera.

"How hard is it? C'mon, cradle the camera with your left, Y/N. Cradle, like a baby!"

"That's not how I would hold a baby!"

"How would you hold a baby?"

You demonstrate what you'd done when you'd had to babysit, and he bursts out into further hysterics, placing his glass of whiskey down as you pick up yours to take an irritated sip.

"That's very motherly, but it's not going to get you any photos."

"Well, fuck photos then!"

He raises a brow, watching as you come sit by him, placing his chin in your shoulder and looking down with you at the camera in your lap. "You sure? Don't you want to make art?", he asks, a wisp of wonder in his tone.

"Fuck art."

"Fucking can be art."

"Sex is not art, okay?!"

Who the hell were you trying to convince? Finnick 'Capitol Whore' Odair?

"What is it then?"

"I dunno, like, a way to have a baby?"

"Really? So that's the only reason you'd have sex? It's a means to reproduce?"

See in theory, yes, you knew that it wasn't, but you had never thought of any other purpose for it. Because when push came to shove, even if you were in District 4, the possibility of mortality hang over all your heads everyday. Not really top priority to think of fucking.

"Well, yeah! Why else would you? You need to keep population up or the Peacekeepers-"

He nods, closing his eyes as though he finally understood why you said what you said. "Ah. You're thinking of Panem."

"Don't we live here?"

"They don't do population checks."

"But I heard-"

"I know what you heard. Trust me, your service is not required. Other districts are doing a good enough job keeping the remains of humanity booming in number."

You sigh. You're not getting out of this until he's changed your take on sex, that's clear.

"You can't possibly think sex is only for giving birth."

"No way."

"No, seriously. Imagine a canvas, right?"

"Okay."

"Paintbrushes. A curve of paint, a flick of your wrist, a deep stroke across the canvas."

"Mhm."

His voice drops to a barely audible whisper and it makes your toes curl. In a very good way. "Now", he breathes, "Imagine the canvas is skin."

That pretty much did it for you.

"Finnick."

He hums, almost laughing, but not quite. "Just listen. Eyes closed."

You obey, because when Finnick Odair asks you to listen to him verbally fuck you, you do.

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Yep. Sex is art.

And you were covered filthy with his words.

But to his credit, yes, they did help you take good pictures.

They also made you wonder why the hell someone who described sex so intimately and preciously would fuck everything with a pulse in the Capitol.

He frowns from the bed, where he sits shirtless with his arm on his knee, posing for you. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, so, me."

Fuck.

"That's what's blocking your art, so just get it out. Ask me whatever."

"Okay, how many times a day do you have sex?", you scoff. Should serve him right for asking such a-

"Five."

"Five? FIVE?"

"Well, I mean.... technically zero." He tenses up.

"What? Wait, that doesn't make sense."

"Look, sex and fucking are different! Sex is more intimate! Okay, look, I just think if you don't see the art and the beauty in everything we do, then it's just... life becomes mundane! Painful, even."

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay."

He's about to riot. Why weren't you pushing?

"Seriously. I just can't... I can't be without assuming everything happens to eventually become art. It hurts if I don't."

You nod and he breaks. Boundaries are only required when he wants them to be. And right now, he's in the mood to spill his brains to you. He's in the mood to bare his soul to you.

"Uh... you know, uh, we should go back to-"

"NO, Y/N. Listen!", he pleads. He doesn't want your usually welcome distractions - not now - and he doesn't want a palate cleanser. He wants you, he realizes, horrifyingly.

"What?"

"I don't... I've never had sex. But I've fucked. You know what I mean?"

You... kind of seem to, but he's not sure. You look like you're treading ice, walking on eggshells around him, which he doesn't blame you for. He hasn't forgotten his outburst the first night you'd met.

"So... you get it?"

You shake your head, and he's mildly relieved. Good. You didn't get it. He'd spoken without thinking, and he didn't want to make himself filthy in your eyes. Not that he was some angel now, either - he saw the way you still looked at him. Sellout, your gaze scolded him.

"It's okay. I didn't really expect you to."

"Why not?"

He inhales and shakes his head, shrugging. "Context? Lack thereof."

"I mean, why would you fuck people you didn't want to be intimate with?"

He's aware that the laugh that follows is only exacerbating your confusion, but you'd genuinely, genuinely, amused him. Because you were basically him before the Capitol. Wide-eyed, not entirely innocent, but definitely not well-versed with the world.

You were him and yet also the polar opposite.

Patting the spot on the bed next to him after shifting a couple of roses away, Finnick watches as you tentatively place the camera down safely first before sitting next to it. Fuck.

"Are you confused?"

You look up at him totally normally, unsuspecting, and trusting, worst of all, and he swears he's about to kill himself.

"What?"

"Are you confused?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know what this button does-"

"No, no, I mean... about what I said."

You pause. Yes. "I mean, slightly, but you don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"Do you want to hear it?"

You frown, and he tsks in urgency, his hands on your shoulders. "Do you want to hear it?"

You nod vehemently and he lets go.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

You're pretty sure it's three am by the time he's asleep. And it's in your arms. Tell twelve year old you that. She'd riot. She'd scream.

Finnick Odair's just bared his soul to you and now, he was utterly vulnerable.

You can't really fall asleep, not after that. Not after knowing that the lanky fourteen year old you'd hero-worshipped on TV when you were eleven had been forced into a room with a Capitol pervert two days later.

You look down. He's twenty-one. He's been doing this shit for seven years. Three years short of a decade. You look back up, at the wall in front of you, and although you can't help it, you get visions. Your mind conjures up its own versions of what happened to him, and you pull him just that much closer.

And that was impossible. Because he's only a couple rules-of-physics away from genuinely melting into you. He no longer seems to feel the need to hold your fingers, and instead, has wrapped himself around your torso and plans to stay there.

Fine by you.

You rest your head back against the headboard. He'd seemed to have struggled, opening up. He'd seemed to not know what to say at all and simultaneously not know where to start first.

You look down again, searching for the ocean in his eyes. Not there. Good, he's still asleep. You don't even feel the regret that you're supposed to feel for judging him, for insinuating that he slept around simply because he could. You can't feel that regret, not when so much anger overtook you.

The gold of his hair spews out from between your fingers, and you find yourself moving your fingers lower, down to the curve of his forehead, the dip of his nose, the plush of his lips, the turn of his jawline.

Beauty is rewarding to everyone else but its owner.

Your thumb rubs over his cheek and you sigh.

It all seems to make sense now, honestly. Why he chose someone from his District to photograph instead of from the Capitol. Why he hasn't been a complete asshole to you.

The white roses in every photo.

═════════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════════════

Finnick wakes up much earlier than he usually does when he's at the Capitol, but then again, he preferred to relish every moment he could spend back in the District.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is your hand.

He'd ended up sleeping in your arms, and you, being utterly, stupidly considerate, hadn't moved an inch.

He gently pries himself away from your arms, attempting to move your head down to the pillow instead of the neck-sprain-inducing position you'd assumed on the headboard. You seem more comfortable on the pillow.

His pillow, his mind notes, though he has no idea why.

The morning air outside beckons him to move closer to the sea. No one, not even Snow himself could stop him from this call.

He quickly freshens up, brushes, washes his face and then he practically soars out to the sea.

The water engulfs him, but it feels more like an embrace. An embrace that, not an hour ago, you'd had him in. He momentarily, terrifyingly considers basking in it for eternity. Letting the water hug him into oblivion. But no. His family's out there. You're out there.

He smooths his hair out, and squints out into the horizon. I mean, he could just go. Only if he managed to get past Panem borders, but if he did manage that? God, would he be set!

He could live out the rest of his days never having to see a rose again.

He could live out the rest of his days painting, photographing, he could maybe even build a boat.

He doesn't know how to build a boat.

But that doesn't matter.

Because he could do anything he fucking wanted. For once, his life would be his.

He turns his head shorewards, expecting the sharp disappointment of being ripped away from his fantasies, but instead, he finds you there. You wave and he basically sprints underwater to reach you.

"The water's amazing, come in!"

"I can't, not this early in the morning!", you call back out.

He almost asks why, but he doesn't want to pressure you. Not everyone can comprehend the beauty of an open, vast, unforgiving and unbiased sea. One that, just like sand, doesn't discriminate in its cruelty.

He'd rather unbiased cruelty than biased adoration.

Such comprehension only stems from trauma. Trauma that he would never wish upon you. He'd never wish it upon his worst ene- no. No, no. He wishes trauma upon Snow. 100%.

"What are you doing today?!"

"I've got to buy things for my home and then I've got tutoring!"

He loves the mundanity of it all. The way you almost grumble as you say it. The way it seems like you also want to just spend the rest of the day lounging with him.

After a moment, he asks, "Can I come with?!"

You look so pleasantly surprised by that, like you think it's a joke that you haven't understood, but his expectant look finally tells you it's not.

"Why!?"

He smiles, lifting his hands up in a comically exaggerated shrug that sends water droplets flying to his sides. "'Cause I can!"

It's mildly unsettling to him how normal you're being. He's pretty sure the whiskey and the tension of last night brought to light things he'd much rather muffle into the dark, but you don't seem affected.

In fact, you seem sort of relieved. Like you've finally understood something that had been bothering you for a while.

You probably think you know exactly why he'd suddenly brought you into his life, and that's what brings him back to reality.

He's still using you. The whole thing about his trauma? Wasn't that basically to get suspicion off him? Maybe that's why he did it.

His mood now soured by his own doing, he essentially stomps out of the water and slumps next to you, trying to ignore the familiar discomfort of wet sand on his skin.

Wet sand that you pick off for him. Fuck.

You couldn't be a bitch, could you?

If you'd been a bitch, this would be so much easier.

But no. You apparently had be fucking extraordinary, didn't you?

"You're actually coming to the market?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"And then tutoring?"

"I'm older and wiser, Y/N. I could probably tutor better than you. Also, I can actually hold a camera."

"Wow, so that's how it is. Ad hominem remarks."

It's embarrassing, to say the least, that after talking such a big talk about wisdom, he doesn't know what 'ad hominem' means.

"Yeah. That's how it is." Cop-outs are always effective in such situations.

You snort, moving your foot back and forth in an arch. "Finnick?"

He hums. "Have you ever needed Tesserae? Like, before the Games."

He nods. "Yeah. Once. It was a very bad storm, so fishing wasn't really going well."

"It's funny, Faye never needed Tesserae. I mean, her family did, but obviously they didn't want it to go into her name. So she was clean. But she still... y'know."

"I want to say something about fate, but I'm not sure it applies here."

"No, it does."

"How so?"

"I've been looking at it kind of... harshly, but it helps.", you say, turning to the sea in front of you. He briefly wonders whether the orange horizon reflected in your eyes brings forth the same daydreams that he just had, in your mind.

"I just figure... it's probably written in stone that she has to participate in the Games. Maybe it was just a matter of when. Maybe this was a kindness done by God, or the universe or something. So that she had less memories, less to leave behind."

He bites the inside of his cheek. "So you're saying that she died so young because it would have been harder if she had died when she was older, with more memories with the people she loved?"

"It sounds terrible, but it was something my elementary teacher told us, when we were first taught about the Games."

He nods, trying to plead with the horizon to give him something to say.

"That was a shitty way to start the morning. Sorry.", you mutter, and he aggressively shakes his head.

"Shit's on your mind, but it doesn't have to stay there, okay?"

You nod. "How is it we're not hungover?"

He raises a brow. "Sea air. Does wonders."

"I live way too far inland, then. Should just stay in the Victor's Village forever."

"Yeah, you should. You got kids in your family?"

"Yeah, my niece and nephew, why?"

"Bring 'em all here, they can actually have a childhood with the sea thirty paces away. I'll teach them stuff. Rope tying, swimming, shit like that."

You smile softly, and it makes the sea air sweeter for him.

The words are left unsaid on both your tongues. They can have a childhood until eleven.

"I'm sure they'd love it if you could teach them."

He tries not to notice the cameras in the distance behind you, but it's really fucking hard.

"We should go."

"Why? It's nice, and I've got...", you reply, looking down at your watch, "...like, a half hour left before I need to go."

"No, let's go."

You figure that, since this wasn't a common occurrence, there was a reason for the roughness with which he led you back inside.

"You gonna tell me what that was about?", you ask as he picks out an apple from one of the adoring fruit bowls someone has sent him.

You've become bolder, grown more of a spine, but asking him this terrifies you, for some reason. Probably because you know he'll tell you the truth.

"There were cameras."

"Aren't you used to it?"

He tosses the apple up in the air and catches it before he washes it in the sink, turning to you as he takes a bite. "But are you?"

You shake your head, catching the one he washes and then throws to you the next moment.

"Exactly."

Nodding, you take a bite.

"What? What else do you have on your mind?" He reads your mind with an unsettling talent.

"What are they saying? Y'know, about us?"

"Just... you know, what you already know. That we're in love. And shit."

"You didn't want the cameras to capture the lack of love, then?"

Whoa, you were hitting hard. "Uh, no, I just thought you'd want some privacy."

"You already got me to come to the Capitol and take fake pictures to pacify Snow."

"Yeah, but-"

"So what is private about my life anymore? I didn't even know I cared so much about my privacy until it went away."

He's been there, done that.

"You're saying you want cameras on you?"

"I'm saying that from now on, they're going to be on me either way."

His chewing slows, and he nods. "Right. Sorry."

"You don't have to - you know that isn't why I said that. Don't apologise."

Alright, now he's more sure than ever that you have some skewed idea of what's going on, one that paints him as someone who accidentally got you into this mess.

Licking his lips, he moves over to place what he wants you to construe as a loving arm around the shoulder. But it's actually a guilty one. A terrified one. A fuck-if-this-goes-south-I-will-lose-her one.

He squeezes twice. "I've got you."

It's hard to say that without scoffing. He's barely got himself.

---

Finnick realizes lots of things by the end of the day.

One, if you want to go somewhere where no one cares who you are and be shoved around, it's the marketplace.

Two, you were wiser than him.

Three, your trust in him, no matter how hard you tried to hide it, was blind. Blind, and infuriatingly so.

Which is why when he finally dropped you home, you said something that, if you didn't have blind trust in him, would have immediately sent of warning bells in your head that he was an absolute asshole who was using you.

"Peacekeepers seem to have multiplied around here."

And his instinctual reply should have been enough to make you realize his entire plan and scorn him to hell.

"Yeah, they used to circle around mine more."

Yep. His plan had worked. Snow had begun to send him silent warnings that now, if he didn't do as he said, the "love of his life" would be killed.

And he didn't know if it was relief or sadism, but momentarily, he found a slight bit of joy that his family wasn't the one under more immediate threat than you.

God, he was such a bad fucking person.

"Maybe they're there to protect me.", you scoff, and he laughs, following you into your house and locking the fucking door.

"Yes, President Snow is known for his extraordinary empathy."

"Is he going to threaten to kill me if you don't... y'know?"

He nods. "Yeah, but I'm used to it. And you'll be safe, trust me."

"I don't want to if you aren't. I can't live with that knowledge.", you say, pursing your lips as you place the items on the kitchen counter.

He looks around and his environment aligns with what he expected a house with two kids to look like. "Where's everyone?"

"There's some school thing. Something to honor Faye and Kai, so my family's not here."

"You didn't go?"

"I don't know if I can.", you respond, shrugging.

He sighs, sitting on the chair while you perch up on the counter, his forearm grazing the side of your knee. "She was lovely."

You nod. "She'd have loved this."

"Loved what?"

"Busy days. She was a tiny bit weird like that. She liked having something to do, and had a whole itinerary planned."

He chuckles incredulously. "Yeah, right. She was thirteen."

"No, she came by every weekend, knocking on my door and telling me the time slots for tutoring. I'm not kidding."

"Oh my god.", he remarks, shaking his head.

"She was so neurotic, in the best way. Said she loved being able to crash into bed after being productive the whole day."

He grins. "She sounds amazing. I wish I got more time with her."

You shake your head. "Wouldn't ever be enough."

He stands, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry."

The only two words he has the right to say to you, and the two you keep rejecting, cluelessly.

"What?"

"I should've done better."

"You did the best you could. Sometimes, even District 1 Careers die."

It kills him that you think he's talking about the Games.

You look at each other for a while, and he frowns softly before his eyes move to your mouth. His lips follow soon after.

He kisses you, and then pulls away, making sure you're not absolutely repulsed, and you don't seem to be, and so he keeps going, his hands on the back of your neck, in your hair.

You're kissing back. "That's all that matters", he thinks, rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

No repulsion.

Not yet, anyway. Because he'd noticed something that you hadn't, right outside, pointing straight at you.

Cameras.

God, he was such a bad. fucking. person.

[afewfantasies]

🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Chapter V

Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Misc references & details

Summary:  Through the promptings of others Lorena and Gale are both forced to confront their personal feelings for each other, while acknowledging the potential for romance & their future.

Pairing: Gale Cleven x Lorena (black fem oc)

Warnings:  None

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love

Word Count: 2K

PART V - Major

Gale had never witnessed a winter prep like this before. Lorena had a strange way of making everything feel like a party with all her personality and ideas to make the mundane fun. There were wood splitting competitions among the boys and stacking competitions. There was no quarrelling as Lorena and Rose were in charge of the harvest and for the first time they were ahead of the schedule in September. A freak frost would have very few consequences on their way of life. Lorena’s sister's visit seemed to do wonders for her well being and in the weeks since her departure there’d already been two letters. Gale kept Felicia’s words close to his chest. He found himself admiring Lorena more and more. Admitting the way her eye’s light when she smiles, the cadence of her laugh, her sense of humour and glamorous nature. He found himself indulging her stories and whims more too. If Felicia thought there was a possibility of happiness between them, then Gale thought there could be a possibility that Lorena could see him the same way all the others did.

“What are you moping about Gale, us soldiers not moving efficiently enough for the Major?” Lorena asks, coming in with a basket of apples to be sliced and hung to dry. Gale smiles at her teasing.

“Wasn’t moping, I just resent there’s nothing to complain about. It’s not good for my reputation” Gale admits. Lorena lights up before laughing a touch. Gale had been opening up to her, it was a wonderful thing. Absolutely wonderful that he was finding his way out of his shell, and beginning to trust her like she trusted him.

“I’ll make a mess of something, you can be sure of it so keep some complaints in your reserves Major” Lorena mocks. He’d inherited the nickname not as a form of respect but admonishment. His small margin for error and serious precision had garnered him the nickname from Lorena. She didn’t understand what surviving a Montana winter was like, what preparation was required to ensure comfort and survival but Gale did. He’d survived the prison camps with next to nothing in terms of food and clothing, and would never endure anything like it again.

“I don’t think you understand how the chain of command works,” Gale says, taking far more than he should. His heart had never let him be too harsh with Lorena. From the moment she appeared in the lodge he had a soft spot for her and that would never change.

“I’m just being a pest, I don’t need a court martial for insubordination” Lorena winks filling the sink with water, it only proves her knowledge of the chain of command. She’d learned a thing or two about the military structure during the 101st’s reunion a few months ago.

“Food is important, it’s always better to have too much of it stored just in case we get snowed in, or the trains get snowed out and provisions stop making their way here. Or we have a long winter” Gale explains.

“When’s the last time anyone can really get in or out?” Lorena asks.

“Depends on the year but after November you’re stuck until around March” Gale explains truthfully. Hesitation washes over Lorena as she does a quick calculation. It would be five months away from her family, five months without consistent communication with them. She’d been silently weighing her options since Felicia’s departure. The heartache of her ex had settled into a bearable wound. As much as she wanted to see them she didn’t want to be forced to remain in a town that felt too muddled by a complicated past and a would be increasingly frustrating present. Lorena didn’t know if she could ever truly be okay with the sight of the man she once loved more than anything happy with someone else. It was the defining reason she had yet to return home, and somehow that bit of self preservation felt cheap. Especially around the likes of Rose and Gale who faced insurmountable challenges head on. A war hero who survived with his sanity intact, and a window making her own way in the wilderness.

The sound of the water stops and Lorena looks up to see Gale has stopped the sink from overflowing. The playfulness is gone from his expression and has been replaced by concern. In a perfect world Lorena could have it all. Her family, friends and home, along with Gale, Rose and the others. Allowing her a moment to herself Gale places the apples into the water where they bob to the surface.

“What is it?” He asks finally.

“My parents miss me a lot, this will be my first Christmas away from them” Lorena confesses.

Her words are just that and Gale can’t help but wonder if there wasn’t another reason for her hesitation. The indication that she missed her ex, that he was one of the reasons she wanted to return. Felicia had been right about his feelings for Lorena, perhaps the older sister was also correct about her sister’s inevitable willingness to take the scoundrel who betrayed her back.

“You can get back home in the spring, it’ll be safer to travel to and from. Felicia can come back with you” he offers now that a world without her under his roof has become inconceivable to him. Lorena scoffs knowing full well that it wouldn’t just be Felicia, it would be her brother and mother as well. Reaching into the basin Lorena begins scrubbing the skin of the apples in preparation for their preservation. Gale stands by her side instead of returning to his task of unloading the hay with the others. His eyes wash over her as stands carrying more than she should emotionally. To Gale there were too many positive qualities to the woman that she should have no insecurities. Feeling the weight of his gaze, Lorena meets him. Something about his blue eyes always seemed to ground her, settle her restlessness and put her at ease. It had been so since the very first time she saw him.

“Gale, we need you - there’s another delivery to be signed for” one of the guys yells from outside.

Gale, we need you. Lorena smiles at the truth of the statement.

“I’m coming!” he shouts, turning back to the door before looking back at Lorena. So it would be a fight after all.

“Whenever you decide to leave I’ll make the trip with you, and if you don’t want to go back your family is welcome here” Gale says with the same commitment to his people that he’d had in the war. It brings a genuine smile to Lorena’s face. The thought of Gale waking through her hometown where he’d stick out like a black swan.

“Maybe you could spend a winter with me sometime and enjoy all the perks of city living.” She suggests making him smile. As long as Lorena saw her future intertwined with his, Gale could be at ease.

“Definitely, I’ll probably be in late. Have dinner with Rose”  He says far more comfortable with stepping out now. Even if it was only a few feet away Lorena’s melancholy weighed him down more than anything else. Lorena’s smile had made it into his dreams and into his heart. It was the only way he wanted to see her now.

…

Rose and Lorena sit on the porch swing watching the boys finish up loading the last few bales of hay for the day. Rose had prepared a hearty dinner that would surely put them to sleep after providing them with adequate nourishment.

“You’re good for him,” the older woman says.

“Huh?” Lorena questions.

“You’re good for him,”  Rose repeats, looking directly at Gale. “He was so angry last year - this entire experience was a nightmare. He hasn’t been angry in months and now he’s finally starting to settle” she says.

“Benefit of time” Lorena says.

“Not just time Lorena, you” Rose says.

“Well, I’m glad I can help,” Lorena responds, making Rose smile.

“Life’s too short to deny yourself the good because of those who’ve mistreated you. We’re all on borrowed time, don’t squander it. You’re young and beautiful and deserve to be loved.”

“Rose? Are you feverish, have you been smoking wild herbs?” Lorena asks, appalled by the older woman's frankness.

“I see the way he looks at you, I’m around. Gale doesn’t make a decision without considering your opinion of comfort. He’s too good a man for most and you’re too good a woman for most. Aside from the obvious facts there’s chemistry there that can’t be denied. Just think about the kind of love he’s capable of Lorena. If he’s been kind, generous and fair with you when you were a stranger.” Rose says hitting Lorena with sobering truths. Looking away from the boys Lorena turns to face Rose who nods with all knowing eyes.

“Gale’s a good man, his heart is set on that gorgeous starlet fiancé that ran away” Lorena sighs knowing intimately.

“He deserves far better than a woman that left him, the man he is and ignored what he was going through.” Rose says and it’s a point Lorena can agree on. “And so do you. I can’t imagine the amount of stupid on that ex-husband of yours. A lady like you being overlooked after staying and being loyal even to this day. Darling you’ve done enough for him. It’s time for you to live for you.” Rose suggests.

Looking at Rose it’s clear as day she’s full of wisdom, she’d always had an omniscient quality to her. Lorena’s silence is only further confirmation of the complicated web of feelings between Gale and herself. Reggie had courted her differently; with large declarations and ostentatious presentations of his affections. Reggie was loud in his love and it was all Lorena had come to know. Gale loved his corners, the quiet and operating in the peripheries if his expertise and leadership were not required.

“So you think I should do what my Ma says and remarry?” Lorena asks, looking into wise eyes.

“I think every woman deserves a taste of the best life has to offer them. You haven’t had it yet and you owe yourself that experience. Someone who cares so much they start digging out an extra cellar in August to prepare enough provisions so that the live-in princess is comfortable” Rose winks before heading into her home.

Lorena sits at a loss for words. Gale stands across the field leading the men in the loading of the barn. Lorena had thought him handsome from day one but she hadn’t thought she was even a contender for his affections, her head hadn’t been in that space when she first arrived. She was nursing her wounds. There was no longing for passion. Only longing for the heartache to cease. And it had. When and where Lorena didn’t know. She could place it. Sometime during the summer after many good days and full weeks. Among the smiles and laughter she’d found peace and Gale had been there every step of the way. Every breakfast, every supper, every night. Every morning he waited to hear movement before getting his day started, and every night he walked across the hall to look in on her before going to bed himself. There’d never been any room or reason for her to think it was something more than otherworldly courtesy. But perhaps with Gale love was the little things, the subtleties, the small kindnesses that add up over time, the careful consideration that makes life easier. The quiet consistency and loyalty that makes you feel a little invincible.

Authors Note: Thanks for reading 💖 I've been in the worst funk lately but the social media algorithm gods have been force feeding so much Austin that my creativity was "re-sparked". Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know how you feel in the comments and re-blogs. The next part is coming and its 🍵 😉

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Restoring the Roots (Joel Miller x Therapist! reader)

Chapter 1: Pre-Contemplation

Chapter 2 here | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | main masterlist |

Pairing: Joel Miller x therapist! reader, post outbreak Rating: none, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap) Summary: Life after moving to Jackson looks drastically different for Joel, survival mode is over and now he and Ellie can finally put down new roots. Ellie adapts easily but Joel finds himself struggling to settle into this new life, in more ways than some. At Ellie and Tommy’s insistence, Joel begrudgingly finds himself in therapy to try and work through his struggles but what he encounters is more than just painful memories and deeply rooted trauma. A/N: I cannot say enough thank you's to the number of lovely humans who encouraged this idea and supported me as I embark on my very first fic! And what better Pedro character to be the guinea pig for this idea? Lots of this story draws on my personal knowledge as a social worker, as I am working towards becoming a certified equine assisted therapist. Consequently, there are lots of horsey terms, therapy terms, and vivid descriptions of trauma at certain points. Feel free like, comment, or reblog if you enjoy it :)

Taglist (for now): @beskarandblasters, @pr0ximamidnight, @theewokingdead, @atinylittlepain, @prolix-yuy, @swiftispunk, @harriedandharassed, @amywritesthings

If anyone wants to be on the taglist please let me know! If you don't want to be on it then also let me know lol.

~~~~~~~

You sat up taller in your chair, arching your back and rolling your shoulders in an effort to stretch out your spine, exhaling softly as you heard the cacophony of crunches and protests from your muscles. You had been hunched over your notepad for over an hour, eyebrows scrunched together and your mind running on autopilot, as you caught up on client notes that you had fallen behind on for the last couple days. The downside of having a small therapy practice, hell any therapy practice, was that there was a never ending litany of documentation to fill out. Seeing as you were the only therapist in the tiny commune of Jackson, there was never a shortage of clients and consequently, never a shortage of session notes that you had to write. 

“Hun.”

You hear your name spoken in a warm tone from behind you. You barely look up from the page as you try to rewrite the word ‘diagnosis’ after what feels like the fifth time. The word has basically lost all its meaning at this point. 

“Honey, c’mon, the sun is about ready to set and you can wrap that up tomorrow.” The cover page to the notepad closes on top of your hand and you look up to see your assistant, Tracey, giving you a knowing look and then glancing towards the front of the office. You follow her gaze to the front windows and take in the deep ember orange hue washing over the business faces and windows on the opposite side of the street, signaling the end of another day. Sighing softly, you lean back in your chair and cross your arms over your chest with a frown. You know she’s right and yet you still have the same dispute every day. 

“Trace, you and I both know that if I don’t get them done today, they will just be added to tomorrow’s to do list, besides this is the last one I swear,” you say to her with a smirk, as if she has not heard that excuse before. 

You were never the kind of person to half-ass your responsibilities at your job, including client documentation, even if there was no longer any governing body or association to uphold professional social work standards. You did your job with integrity, even the mundane administrative tasks that involved more writing than actual talking with clients. Tracey knew this of course, it was something she admired about you, how suited you were for this line of work. It was clear that you cared deeply for the clients that you supported. But it doesn’t mean it was not a fight when the end of the workday rolled around and she had to tear you away from your desk and practically shove you out of the office door. 

She rolled her eyes at you and her lips curled into a small smile as she headed towards the door with her coat and bag in tow. “Promise me you will at least be out of here before the night patrol starts?” She points her finger at you as she stops just ahead of the door. You nod and wave her off as you turn your focus back to the notepad, smoothing your palm over the words etched into the cover ‘Restorative Reins.’ 

You had only been in Jackson for roughly over a month, though it felt like much longer. Much like everyone else who had survived the outbreak and came to find refuge in the small settlement after the world went to shit, you were grateful to accept any basic decencies of normal life that were afforded to you. Warm meals, warm showers, hell running water in general was a miracle in and of itself at that point. So when you actually arrived in Jackson, you were dumbfounded to see how much normalcy surrounded you. Children running and playing in the streets, storefronts of various thriving businesses, sheep being rounded up in a nearby corral - hold on, a fucking MOVIE THEATER? 

While it took some time to grow out of the perpetual fight or flight mode that you were entrenched in from life on the road, you did eventually fall into a good pace in Jackson. Especially after getting involved in the community and taking up the job as the local therapist, you had never been busier, and you loved it. 

The world felt unflinchingly obsolete post outbreak, but being able to support others with their mental health never failed to bring you joy and an unshakeable sense of purpose. You wanted to help others as they navigated their pain and broke down the mental blocks that entrapped them in their trauma. You wanted to help them realize the innate strength that they possessed. Sadly, you never got the chance to practice long term, as you finished up grad school just before the outbreak happened. But that didn’t seem to matter now as you had an endless stream of community members that you saw on a weekly basis at your practice, all with their own pain and struggles, seeking support.

It was crazy to think about the short period of time that had passed since you started at the job, how much you had done for the residents, how much more that you wanted to do. You were pulled from your memories when the office phone rang, internally groaning as you looked at your watch.

4:58 p.m. Of course. 

Steeling yourself you picked up the phone, praying that it was a quick call.

“Restorative Reins Practice, how can I help you?” you answered.

“Oh! hi ma'am,” a warm, mellow Southern drawl greets you on the other end. “Are you the local therapist that has been helpin’ folks out around here with their mental health?”

"That's me,” you reply warmly, “what can I do for you?”

The man hesitates briefly, “Well, I was uh wanting to know a bit more about the business I guess, how the therapy process works, fees and stuff for someone who was interested in getting help. Not me though, it’s not for me, it’s for my brother, Joel. My name is Tommy by the way,” he mentions quickly. 

“No problem Tommy, I can explain the basics to you including the different types of therapy I offer and how the process works,” you reassure him. You explain to him the different services, how the equine therapy worked, walk in hours, session lengths and so on. 

“I should probably mention that my brother ain’t keen on getting help and reaching out to others when he needs it, he’s too damn proud to acknowledge it, so he really doesn’t think he has any issues and thinks everything is fine… but he’s having a real tough time settlin’ down here. He’s so haunted by his past and he’s been acting differently lately, more temperamental, well, more than usual,” Tommy adds. You smile to yourself and nod, as you’ve had many clients before who were stuck in similar struggles and closed off to therapy initially.

“I can definitely understand that,” you sympathize with him. “It sounds like your brother has been through a lot and you just want him to get some support, which is great. Therapy isn’t for everybody but I have worked with many individuals like him who were going through similar situations, and they found great success.”

“That’s great to hear. That’s all I want for him is to get some help,” Tommy states.

“Now with that being said,” you continue, “therapy is voluntary, I cannot force someone to attend, but if your brother would agree to a consultation with me, I could chat with him more about where he is at, the kind of support he could benefit from and go from there. No pressure to commit to anything,” you propose to him.

“Hmm, I think he could be persuaded to try that, now that you mention it like that,” Tommy chuckles, sounding pleasantly surprised. 

“Awesome! You can tell him to stop by the office any time and we can discuss it more. We’re open from 9-5,” you tell him, silently relieved that it was an indeed quick call. He thanks you and hangs up. 

Something else akin to curiosity creeps into your mind as you recount what Tommy briefly told you about his brother. Maybe more so intrigue. You wonder how resistant he is to therapy, what happened in his past to hurt him so deeply, but you catch yourself before your thoughts run away from you further, either way you look forward to helping another person in need. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tommy, I swear to god if you bring up this damn therapy shit again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you next time we’re out on patrol,” Joel growled through clenched teeth, as he walked away from his brother into the kitchen of the house. 

“Boy, it ain’t like I never heard that before,” Tommy quipped sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he followed Joel into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway as he leaned against the frame, hands shoved into his pockets. He observed his brother's rigid stance, the tightness in his shoulders, as Joel stood over the sink, looking out the window. 

This felt like the umpteenth time that Tommy had broached the subject of Joel getting help and talking to a ‘shrink,’ as he dismissively described it, for the issues that he was struggling with. Joel was fine. He didn’t have any fucking issues. He was doing just fine and didn’t need some professional to scrutinize him, reduce him to his vices, and open old wounds from his past life. He was encouraged to go to grief counseling after Sarah died but by some grace of God, or whatever godforsaken omnipotent entity existed at that point, the outbreak occurred. Forget mental health, physical health and survival became the only focus.

Tommy exhaled softly. “Listen, I'm only suggestin’ it because I care about you. Ellie cares about you. You both have been through hell and back in the last year, I mean shit, we all have. But it seems like everything y’all went through is still affecting you, holding you back from letting your guard down and settling in here,” he states plainly, sadness lacing his tone. 

“That’s bullshit Tommy and you know it,” Joel snaps, turning to face his younger brother and leaning back against the counter, arms crossed in defense. His gaze narrows.  “I go out on patrol don’t I? Pick up extra shifts wherever it’s needed, help out with the contracting jobs, go out with Ellie in town.” Joel stood up taller, puffing out his chest, challenging his younger brother. Tommy shook his head, running his hand over his face with an exasperated expression. Heaven forbid Joel did anything for himself that did not involve contributing or providing for someone, period. He just couldn’t shake that from his identity, and it broke Tommy’s heart as he watched his brother’s stubborn pride, ridden with guilt and trauma, swallow him whole. 

“Man when are you gonna fuckin’ do something for yourself Joel?!” Tommy asserted, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “Forget the damn commune, forget the community, forget Ellie for a sec and think about the last time YOU did something for yourself, the last time YOU reached out for help goddamnit.” He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the threshold of the kitchen as he strode towards Joel.

“You’re not on the run anymore brother. You don’t have to just survive. You can have a life here. You can sleep without keepin’ one eye open and relax without lookin’ over your shoulder. Don’t you want that? Don’t you think you deserve that?! Don’t you think you deserve this?!” Tommy said as he gestured around the cozy kitchen and fixed his older brother with a pleading stare. 

Joel’s eyes widened as he tried to step back, the edge of the counter biting into his lower back as he took in Tommy’s weary face, the pain in his soft brown eyes, mirroring his own. His younger brother rarely raised his voice anymore. The outbreak took its toll on his hot headed temperament that never seemed to simmer down, even after he was discharged from the army. Joel knew that Tommy cared about him, hell he knew how deeply his brother loved him, after all they had respectively been through in the last twenty years, it had to be serious for him to raise his voice. 

Joel opened his mouth, ready to bite back but his brother raised his hands in the air in surrender, “Look, this is the last time I will bring this up, I swear. But yesterday I called up the therapist in town who’s been helpin’ folks out, and asked her about the therapy process and she seems real nice, and supportive. She said you could come in for a consultation and talk to her and see if you’re interested,” Tommy said quietly.

Joel’s gaze narrows as he scrunches his eyebrows together in incredulity, “You-”

“I had nothing to lose Joel. Absolutely nothing. And neither do you,” Tommy cuts him off, raising his chin in defiance. “At least go talk to the therapist, if you don’t like her or you’re not feelin’ it, then I’ll drop it and let it go. Okay? The office is on the main street, just beside the clothing store, adjacent to the stables and they’re open everyday from 9-5.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy,” Joel leaned back as he looked up at the ceiling, wishing it would collapse in on him. Gotta love that brotherly love.  

“Look I should be getting back now, Maria will be waiting for me. Here’s the number and address for the business. I’ll see you around okay?” Tommy patted through his pockets and retrieved a small piece of paper with writing scribbled on it, placing it on the counter beside Joel. He gave him a last placating look before he walked out of the kitchen, the front door closing behind him with a soft click. 

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply before turning back around to look out the kitchen window. He hung his head in defeat, rounding his back as he rested his elbows on the counter and glared into his matte reflection in the sink. He didn’t need any help. He was doing fine. He’s still upright and breathing, with blood coursing through his veins isn’t he? Albeit, he's not jumping out of bed like a sprightly thirty year old anymore. His knees pop and crackle when he gets up from crouching over machinery for too long, his joints protest the next day when he pushes himself too far, moving slower than usual on job sites. 

Hell, even his memory is starting to get cloudy around the edges. If it weren’t for Ellie some days, he’s sure he would leave the house without pants on, what with her always reminding him where things are in the house, special events that are coming up in the community that he forgets about. He had been a bit more snappy than usual, as Ellie so lovingly pointed out one day, but that’s nothing compared to his normal demeanour. 

“You’re becoming a grumpy motherfucker y'know that? Jeez, who shit in your cornflakes this morning?” She grumbled at him with a mouth full of cereal, after he snapped at her reminder that it was parent day at the local school. Parent day, P.A. day, Joel hadn’t dealt with any of this shit in over twenty years since Sarah was in school. Even then he managed to swiftly neglect many of the parental events, seeing as Sarah was the perfect student, with nothing but glowing reviews from her teachers. The fact that Ellie was going to school amidst a fucking apocalypse was enough for Joel to be content. 

But still, he’s doing fine, right? Just fine. 

“Maybe talking to someone that’s not related to you would help you, y’know? Being able to talk about shit that you can’t talk to me, or Tommy, or anyone else about you know?” Ellie proposed to him later that night.

As luck would have it, she was already home when Joel and Tommy spoke in the kitchen and she had heard pretty much the entire conversation. And like Tommy, she only wanted Joel to get support because she cared about him. 

“Think of all the shit that we went through in the past year, forget the infected, and the raiders, and FEDRA, and almost dying,” she casually listed off on one hand as if she was reciting a grocery list.

“There's so much shit that we’re both carrying with us, demons from our past, and it’s gotta come out one way or another. Look, therapists aren’t there to judge you, or analyze you,” she continued, “they’re kind of like a sounding board for you to bounce your thoughts off of, and they help you process shit you’re going through. You never know unless you try it,” she said matter of factly. 

“Like Tommy said, you got nothing to lose man. Plus the whiskey and pills will only help you numb reality for so long, you’re gonna go insane eventually,” she said, fixing him with a knowing look as she leaned back into the couch beside him.

Joel just grunted in response and frowned. Damn this kid for being too insightful for her own good.

Ellie might be young but she most certainly wasn’t naive. And as much as Joel would have liked to assume that her easy transition into life in Jackson was on account of her youthfulness, it really wasn’t. It was just the fact that she had never known a normal life, as heartbreaking as that was. She never had the chance to experience such normalcy before everything turned on its head. But she developed friendships with a few of the other teens in the community, namely one girl Dina, who she hung out with after school, went to the movies and other community events with.

She didn’t have to actively try to fit into Jackson, she just did. Joel would never acknowledge the pangs of jealousy he felt gnawing at his insides when he saw her getting on so well, but it didn’t mean they chipped away at his morale any less. 

Ellie smirked at his lack of response, knowing he was mulling it over in his mind. With the relationship they had developed over the past year, she was grateful to be able to talk to Joel and actually get through to him.

“Damn maybe I should be a fuckin’ therapist, that was good advice wasn’t it?” she grinned at him, elbowing him in his side.

Joel snorted and shook his head. “Christ, I must be losing my mind for real this time if you’ve got me considering it.”

“Now c’mon,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, “you owe me at least a few games of Boggle for that pep talk,” she said triumphantly, holding up the weathered board game that was on the coffee table.

[netscapenavigator-official]

I'm sorry if I alarmed or worried any of you last night. I've had some time to sleep... what few hours I got. Now that the dust is starting to settle, I find myself asking, "what now?" The reality is donning, and no amount of fantasy, wishing, or hoping is going to change it. So what now?

I think this election demonstrated something I've been worried was true for a long time: The only allies we truly have are ourselves. Women, queer folk, people of color? At the end of the day, the only people we can truly trust to be there for us are those in the same shoes we are. The Democrat party, our once only major ally in American politics, is in pieces. I don't know if it'll ever be able to meaningfully repair itself. If it can't, I don't know if a new party will replace it in time for future elections. If there will be any. We are alone, now, and this election marks a new truth: The allies we once had aren't there anymore, and if they are, they don't care enough about us to show up for us. So what now?

Well... maybe we disappear from the public view for a while. Maybe we go underground for a while. Maybe we have to hide who we are and live in secrecy... but what else is new?

When has it ever been easy to be us? When have we ever faced a day where hate and dehumanization, on a systematic level, weren't on the table. To be who we are means to be at the receiving end of what happened last night. So what now?

We will survive. We will fly under the radar. Some of us will die. It's an unfortunate truth, but we can't do anything about it now. The best we can do is do what those before us did: Keep on going. Queer people, women, people of color? We'll band together. Maybe not all together. Maybe in each of the three communities. I don't know. We don't have politicians and we don't have allies anymore. All we have is each other. But we are the Tardigrades of the social political world. We will endure.

Whether with public support or without, we will find ways to exist and thrive. The people of color, the women, the queer folk before us... they all went through the ringer too... and they survived. Not only that, but many of them thrived.

Things may be fucked on a systematic level, but we're far smaller than the prying eyes of the government can see. They don't see people. They see groups. And so, as an individual, you can thrive in personal ways. Maybe the world of politics is hell. That doesn't meant you have to give up on your hobbies. That doesn't mean you have stop loving those you do. That doesn't mean you have to stop petting your cat. That doesn't mean you have to stop reading books. That doesn't mean you have to stop looking out your window and going, "what a beautiful day!" That doesn't mean that you have to stop enjoying anything.

Life is complex. It's multi-faceted. Some doors may close on the joys we once had, but new ones will open. Excitement will come from places you never saw yourself in. Joy will still come from the small, mundane things you already love.

It's impossible to understand what we're in for. And so, the best thing we can do is stop catastrophizing. Let the horrors find you and spend the meantime making the best of it. Don't anticipate stuff and spend the rest of your time being miserable. Maybe the time you have left is short. Maybe it's long. Maybe it's somewhere in between... That doesn't mean you have to give up on making the best of it. Thrive, if not for yourself, then out of spite for those who pray on your downfall.

Be happy. Be kind. Like the minorities before us... we will survive. A bad government doesn't mean we have to live a bad life. I wish you all the best. Stay safe. <3

[bvtbxtch]

Welcome to Hawkins, Indiana. The sleepy city that can bring with you the sweetest dreams, or the most terrorizing nightmares.

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Content might not be suitable for all readers (more updates coming)

If you would like to be notified of updates to this series, please add yourself to the taglist!

In collaboration with my love @darknesseddiem

"The quaint mundanity leaves Hawkins, Indiana a forgettable blip on the map. However, it casts a spell on you. Everyone in town has their jobs - go to work, take care of the kids, run their shops or prepare a new pot of coffee for the before-work rush. The neat and tidy form that lies in this sleepy city can make you fall in love, find yourself, or run into much more sinister happenings beneath the surface of the manicured lawns. It's your choice to figure out how to survive."

Jack O'Lantern Kiss - Carving pumpkins with bestfriend!Eddie leads to confessions you may or may not have always wanted to hear. Bestfriend!Eddie x Fem!Reader. Fluff, slight smut

Firestarter - Eddie has just told you he was bi, when the opportunity to explore appears at a bonfire at the Harrington house. Sub!Eddie x Dom!Reader x Switch!Steve. Smut

I Can Make You Scream - Your first collaboration with one of the most popular cam boys, Eddie, leaves you breathless and waiting for the next shoot with him. Camboy!Eddie x Camgirl!Reader. Smut

When It's Cold I'd Like to Die - The only way that Eddie feels he can get you out of the Upside Down safely is to sacrifice himself; but he forgot how stubborn you are. Boyfriend!Eddie x Fem! Reader. Angst, fluff

Paranoid - You watched Eddie make it out of the battle for Hawkins clinging to his life by a thread. Even though he has been acquitted for the crimes he was accused of, and life has gone back to normal, there is something not quite right with your boyfriend. Vecna'd!Eddie x Fem!Reader. Angst, fluff, slight smut

Dead by Daylight - You and Eddie have to stay together to survive your captors, a famous killing family situated on the outskirts of Indianapolis. Victim!Eddie x Victim!Reader. Angst, fluff

On the Line - Pumpkin Pie is back on the menu at Hank's Diner. What happens when the new waitress needs to stay with the Jaded line cook to prepare for fall festivities? Linecook!Eddie x Waitress!Reader. Fluff, smut

Let Me Love You - Eddie comes over to nurse you back to health after catching a cold. Bestfriend!Eddie x Sick!Reader. fluff

Jealous Guy - Steve Harrington is persistent with his advances towards you during the Hideout's Halloween party. Your co-bartender, Eddie, doesn't like the fact that you don't shoot him down right away. Bartender!Eddie x Bartender!Reader. Smut

Live From the Upside Down - There is a special Corroded Coffin show in Hawkins to celebrate Halloween. You've been a devoted fan since your brother, Dustin talked about Eddie and his band back in high school. Seeing the metalhead again stirs up feelings you forgot you had. Rockstar!Eddie x Henderson!Reader. Smut, fluff

Obsession - Eddie's obsession with you has been fun and games - late night drives, hookups and even a couple of dates. He has seemed to cross a line as of late... Ghostface!Eddie x Cheerleader!Reader. Smut

Children of the Corn - A group date in the new Hawkins corn maze sounded amazing to you: Hanging out with Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan sounded like just your night, until your worst enemy is included in the plans. Eddie x Fem!Reader. Smut

Movie Marathon - Years after the Ghost face killer has ended his reign of terror on Hawkins, the local movie theatre has decided to put on a movie marathon of the movies inspired by the killer. You and Eddie decide to go and revel in his glory. Ghostface!Eddie x Fem! Reader. Smut

You Don't Scare Me - Eddie is used to scaring most of the people who walk through the Hawkins Haunted House in the old Starcourt mall. He's determined to make you scream after you walk through and show no signs of being scared by him. Scareactor!Eddie x Grumpy!Reader. Smut

Kiss Me Through the Phone - You nor Eddie could contain your excitement for your homecoming from college for thanksgiving... so much so that you needed a reminder of what you would be getting yourself into when you're back. A phone call would suffice, wouldn't it? Eddie x Fem!Reader. Fluff, Smut

Taglist: @eddies-acousticguitar @mmunson86 @sadbitchfangirl @hideoutside @anxiousobserver @tony-starks-ego @ohmeg

tagging some friends just for fun: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @hellfiremunsonn @ali-r3n @andvys @eddie-munsons-mullet @changemunson