#we’re only halfway through and I’m already losing it

[funtheysaid]

mmkay so the episodes keep getting better and better and I’m honestly scared for my sanity and blood pressure atp HOW TF AM I SUPPOSED TO MAKE IT TO 2x08?

[thesweetestofdreams]

hot chocolate

pairings: poly!marauders x reader (852 words)

warnings: should be none, just a little stress cry/ burnout

a/n: Do I like this? I have no idea. The boys help to comfort you on a late night that has you stressed.

Reaching out to his left, James expects to find your warmth. Instead all he feels are empty sheets. The fuzziness of sleep threatens to pull him back down, but your absence keeps him up. 

He pads through your small apartment doing his best not to wake your boyfriends still sleeping behind him. The small spike of panic he felt at not finding you eases as he finally does. 

You've got your back to him, typing away at your computer at the kitchen table. 

"And I'm the one not allowed to have coffee after six," he says softly once he's closer. You hardly glance at him, still typing. "Love," he says, a hand gently coming to cover yours. "Do you know how late it is?" 

Your heart melts as you finally look at him. He's rubbing sleep from his eyes, knocking his glasses off kilter. He looks warm and soft around the edges. It's enticing but your work's not going to do itself. "I'll come to bed in just a minute, Jamie. I should really finish this." 

He points at the time on your computer, 3:48 blares at you and you realize how much your eyes sting from staring at the screen. "Come on," he says, his grip now a soft tug at your wrist. 

"Just let me finish this paragraph." You're trying to bargain, having the feeling you'll probably lose. 

"It can wait, love." He's looking at you with soft eyes and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. You hear shuffling behind you. Now you're really in for it.

Remus comes into view, his oversized shirt- probably one of James’- askew on his shoulders, followed by a scowling Sirius. “How dare you make us go on a man-hunt at three in the morning.” Sirius crosses his arms trying to look angry, but he still comes up to rest his chin on your shoulder. His nose tickles your cheek, “Let’s go to bed my love.”

Remus walks further into the kitchen of your tiny apartment. You remember the day you moved in, you ate ramen over a cardboard box as a kitchen table. Now as he stands across the table from you Remus reaches over to slowly close your laptop. 

You stop him halfway, and he gives you a knowing look. “I’m really not tired, honestly I won't be able to sleep until I finish this,” you say quickly returning to typing. 

Remus sighs, looking to James for help, but it’s Sirius who comes to his aid. “Well then I guess we’re all staying up,” Sirius says, his chin digging into your shoulder and sleep muddling his words, “but when I wake up with dark circles that’s on you.”

“No go to bed, I won’t be long.” You try to focus on your work, but Sirius worms his arms under yours, wrapping around you. “Siri, please.” Your head is starting to hurt from forcing your eyes to stay open, and the warmth coming off of him only makes the fight harder. 

“What are you doing, Remus?” you ask, hearing the kitchen cabinets open and close. 

“I’m making hot chocolate.” He grabs your favorite mug from the cabinet followed by three more. 

“You don’t have to do that Rem.” Your eyes are still stinging.

“I already opened the packet.” He says it with a finality that tells you, you’ve hardly any choice in the matter.

“I’ll get the marshmallows,” James adds, sounding far too excited for this time of night. 

Before you can stop it your eyes fill with tears, blurring your computer screen. You hide your face in your hands. “Are you okay, love?” Sirius asks, suddenly sounding much more awake. You can’t stop it as much as you want to, your tears flow leaving your boyfriends flustering to help you. 

“Dove.” Remus kneels beside you. “Let’s take a break, yeah? It can wait until tomorrow.” 

You hear the soft click of your computer shutting as you nod. James holds your hand across the table. “You’re all too nice to me,” you say, it comes out half laugh half sob. 

“All that work is scrambling your brain,” Sirius says, squeezing your shoulders.

You let Remus pull you to the couch where he brushes stray tears from your cheeks. You melt into his side. He plants soft kisses into your hair. 

James and Sirius come with cups of hot chocolate almost overflowing with marshmallows. The cups are soon abandoned as the rich chocolate threatens to drag you all to sleep right on the spot. 

When you eventually make it to bed through fits of yawns and tired shuffling, you realize you’re finally exactly where you want to be. Sirius falls asleep practically on top of James.

Remus pulls the blanket to your chin. “Too nice,” he laughs quietly to himself. You swat at his arm. As you fall asleep, he listens to the rise and fall of your breath. You deserve all the niceness of the world, and he would make hot chocolate in the middle of every night if it meant you felt even a bit of it.

[yelenasbraid]

good enough — joe burrow

summary — ‘we’re not good enough’ is starting to sound and feel like ‘i’m not good enough’ for joe

warnings — fem!reader, whole lotta angst, mentions of panic/not feeling great, takes place after the game against the eagles, lots of italics so sorry, maybe some ooc joe?? halfway proofread so don’t come for me.

note — i listened to the song j’s lullaby (darlin’ i’d wait for you) by delaney bailey and whewww it fueled the angst

ANOTHER FUMBLE RECOVERY. another turnover. another at-home loss. he couldn’t fight this game anymore, he couldn’t fight the refs, he couldn’t deny the very blatant fact that they weren’t good enough.

so he sat, watching jake perform the last moments of the game. he watched as they lost, the score 37-17. he knew the stakes coming into the game. the eagles were a prominent team, a good opponent. he was expecting a good game out of it, not a blowout.

the post-game press conference was going to be a nightmare.

what kept him sane as he walked in the tunnel wasn’t a thing or an event, it was a person. you. he knew you watched the entire thing, he knew you’d be upset, as was he. he also knew that if one person said the wrong thing he’d snap.

he just needed to see you. just for one second.

he walked into the tunnel, his head hanging as cameras flashed. he clenched his fists; they wanted a picture of this?

“joe,” he picked up his to the sound of your voice, and if he didn’t know better, he would have collapsed right then and there. he walked up to you, putting the rest of the energy he had into his getting to you. he gently wrapped his arms around you, inhaling your perfume, reveling in your warmth.

you pulled apart from him like gum from the concrete; he didn’t want to let you go. he didn’t want to go to the press conference and face the failures, his failures.

“don’t you dare go there,” you gently warned, your voice like a cool stream over a sore wound. your hands held his clenched fists, which eventually opened to envelop yours. you were right, but it was too late; he was already there.

“i’ll see you at home,” he swallowed. his eyes twitched, the glass beneath them shattering as he made eye contact with you. he took a breath; he was not going to lose it.

“i love you,” you reminded him, letting go of his hands.

“i love you,” he hummed, mustering up some energy to offer you a smile. to you, it just looked like a more relaxed expression. he trailed off, being whisked away by staffers. he gave you one last look before he disappeared to the locker rooms.

—

his drive home was silent. his hands wrung the steering wheel as the conference played over in his mind.

“we’re not good enough, we’re not good enough. we gotta get better,”

“we gotta take responsibility for how we’re playing individually,”

“i don’t think anybody was good enough today,”

the underlying message that the reporters didn’t catch, thankfully, was that he wasn’t good enough. he should have been better. it was all his fault.

you’d catch it though. he knew you saw through him the moment you saw him. he loved it about you, that he didn’t have to say anything for you to get him. it wasn’t always the case, but it was this time.

he pulled into the driveway, throwing the car into park and sitting there for a moment. he stared at the wall of the garage, losing himself in the defeat and disappointment of the night. he blinked, throwing himself out of whatever funk he was in, and shut the car off. his body ached, his head was heavy, and all he wanted to do was sleep. it was only 6 pm; going to bed now wouldn’t hurt right?

he grabbed his bag and walked up into the house. he opened the door to the smell of vanilla and woodsmoke, his eyes directed to a candle that was lit in the kitchen. he didn’t see you in the living room or the kitchen, and for a second he thought you’d left. he swallowed, nerves bubbling in his gut as he kicked his shoes off by the door.

“babe?” he called, his voice hoarse and scratchy. his expression relaxed as he heard you pad down the stairs, seeing you in sweats and a t-shirt.

“hey,” you smiled, coming off the stairs. you crossed your arms over your chest, watching as joe stood there. he didn’t know what to do, clearly this game proved that. he just wasn’t good enough. the voices from past recruiters filled his mind as he zoned out again, whispering sweet lies to him about his performance.

he’d never be good enough.

there’s always someone better.

he wasn’t even good enough for you.

his breath hitched as he focused on you, the world around him coming back into focus.

“what?” he cleared his throat, seeing the confused expression on your face.

“i asked if you were hungry,” you repeated. seeing him this dazed worried you, especially given the circumstances.

“don’t really have an appetite,” he responded, moving past you and towards the stairs. his emotions were a sour cocktail, and he was tired of it being the only thing settling in his stomach. he wanted you told hold him, to comfort him, but he also needed to figure out what exactly happened out there. his brain was leaning towards finding a solution, even if there was no use in the state he was in.

“i figured,” you hummed, letting him stroll past you up the stairs, “i’ll be here when you’re ready,” you added. you’d wait for him, all day every day. you’d let him go through his process, do his routine, and he’d come back to you. he always did.

joe paused on the stairs, something stopping him. he didn’t know what it was, maybe it was your voice in his head breaking through the noise, telling him to not shut you out. maybe it was your divine-like patience. you always made time for his moods and his failures. did he make time for you? amidst his struggles, did he ever take a second to make time for your moods and your struggles? was he being a good boyfriend?

“baby?”

“why are you still here?” he asked you, his tone sharp, despite him meaning to sound that way.

“what?” his tone caught you off guard, making you rapidly blink to help you process.

“you should leave,” he continued, “you…” he was panicking. why was he pushing you away? he needed you.

“what are you talking about?” your fear struck you, but you still fought yourself. he couldn’t mean what you thought he meant, right? you swallowed, watching as he battled himself. watching as his eyes avoided yours, as his fists unclenched and then clenched again. he was shaking too.

“you’re always here for me, when have i ever been there for you?” he asked, “i’m not a good boyfriend, i’m not a good quarterback,”

“joe, stop,” your voice stopped him, a stern expression reminding him much of his mother. while you were serious, there was undoubtedly a kind warmth behind your eyes. he panted, his eyes filling with hot tears.

as silence sat between you, joe’s breathing lessened. he walked back down the stairs, dropping his bag at the foot of them. he stood there, deflated, as you approached him. you took his face in your hands, feeling warm tears hit your fingers. your thumbs whisked them away, trying to give joe some semblance of comfort during a time where there wasn’t much of it.

joe wrapped his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. he pulled you in close, the weight on his chest lessening as he let you pull him in. he let your warmth take him over, spreading like a wildfire over his bones. he felt your fingers through his hair, your hands running down his back. you were the personification of comfort and safety, and he was trying so hard to drink it all in.

“you are not a bad boyfriend,” you hummed, and in response he squeezed you tighter, “you’re not a bad quarterback,” you added, running your hands down his back. he pulled away from you as tears fell from his eyes. he wiped them away with the palm of his hand.

“how?”

“do you remember that time i was followed by some guy? i called you, and without any hesitation you answered and came to help me,”

“that’s just what a boyfriend is supposed to do,”

“hold on, i’ve got more,” you patted his chest, “the time when my mom had a cancer scare. you left practice early every day to make sure not only that i was ok, but if i needed anything. the time i got promoted at work and you surprised me with my friends over for dinner. the time i was spiraling so badly after a bad encounter with someone at work you picked me up, made me a delicious dinner, and made sure i felt appreciated and loved,” you listed them off, and there were many more. you guys weren’t perfect, by any means, but he was enough. he’d always be enough.

“you’re a good quarterback. if you don’t want to look at the numbers, look at your heart. you have such a passion for these young guys, for the vets. you lead them well and confidently, you make sure they know they’re appreciated and give them their first game ball if necessary, like you did with andrei. but because none of us are perfect, we make mistakes, but it makes us better. it doesn’t define you as a person,” you continued. you watched the gears turn, and while it would take some time for joe to see that himself, he knew you were right. he knew what you were talking about, he saw what you saw, and it calmed the frayed nerves in his body.

“i don’t deserve you,” he whispered, “i really don’t,”

“you deserve the world, joe burrow,” you countered, giving him a soft smile. he gave you one back, sniffling.

“i’m sorry for telling you to leave, i just…i don’t know,”

“i know, just don’t push me away. i’m not here to make things worse for you, i hope you know that,” you allowed a laugh at your last words, making joe chuckle too.

“i know that,” he agreed.

“don’t push me away,” you repeat, resting your hand on his chest, it movie with the rise and fall of his chest.

“i won’t,”

“good,” you smiled, “now, i say it’s time for a comfort show,” you grinned, which made his face light up. the both of you walked over to the couch, sitting down on the plush white cushions. you settled a blanket across your lap, while joe grabbed a blanket of his own, laying his head in your lap.

“spongebob?” he turned his head up to look at you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“sure thing, squidward,” you teased, kissing him on the nose. you turned it on, then nestling into your spot on the couch. you ran your fingers through joe’s hair, occasionally catching his neck before going back into his hair. joe melted into you, cuddling into your warmth and your safety. he watched the episode, giggling at a couple parts, but the most important thing is that he was with you. that you were the glue that held him together. the feeling of your hands in his hair sent prickles down his spine, and in a good and comforting way. every prickle sent warmth across his body, relaxing his taut muscles.

you bent down and kissed his temple.

“i love you, joe burrow,” you hummed.

“i love you more, y/n l/n,” he hummed back. it wasn’t too long before sleep bid him closer, and took over his body. he slumped into you, his soft breaths telling you he fell asleep. you kissed him again, smiling against his warm skin. he was safe and he was loved, and that’s all that mattered.

joey looked so sad after the game 🥺 hopefully this makes a bit better. ALSO! i do have a couple more fics lined up that might be released this week so STAY TUNED!! i just wanted to write an angsty fic ngl

tags: @wickedfun9 @joeyfranchise

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Four

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, cuss words, and… angst

Notes: I fell asleep after I decided to add a Jasper dialogue last night… I’m sorry it’s later than normal lol remember, I told yall Jasper has to make up for his being gone😌🫣

Word Count: 2373

Series Masterlist

• March 20th, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

The weekend passed by in a blur, I spent it wishing I got more time with Jasper, but he desperately needed to hunt. So that left me with Quil, if he noticed my far-away mind, he didn’t comment, the new video game he picked up Friday occupied most of his attention.

Friday. I jumped off a cliff with Bella, was rescued by Quil’s ex-best friend, and then the object of my every waking thought showed up at my doorstep.

Friday was a long day, to say the least.

Which brings us to today - Monday. I have to go to school as if it were a normal fucking day, like my weekend hadn’t changed the trajectory of my life. Like my other best friend isn’t in Italy right now fighting to save the man she loves.

Slamming the door shut to my locker, I turn towards the direction of second period when a hulking mass at the other end of the hallway stops me short.

The blonde next to him grins, gracefully walking in my direction as if no more than the weekend had passed since I last saw them.

“Life has been rather dull without you.” Rosalie brings me into a delicate hug, the smile on her face growing.

“I missed you too.” The words aren’t much more than a whisper and my heart twists in my chest, they’re really back.

My eyes haven’t left his and they’re so full of sadness. The hallway empties out, but neither of us has managed to move an inch or look away.

Rose nudges me, “Go.”

A simple word, but the command moves my feet. It started off as one step and then two, but then I’m halfway down the hallway in a full sprint. Emmett takes one large step and then another before I fling myself into his arms, wrapping my own tightly around his neck.

“I hate you.” The words aren’t true, but this ache in my chest can’t be described any other way.

“I know.” His words are muffled as he lifts me.

“I missed you every day.” Tears well in my eyes, making it hard to see the grin splitting Rosalie’s face.

“I missed you more.” He argues back.

Safety, that’s Emmett McCarty Cullen. He’s strength and power and softness that only a man his size with his heart could exude. He is the definition of protector - someone that would go to any lengths to safeguard those closest to him. And just his hugs alone could cure anything, the hug of a brother who cares immensely.

“You left me.” The tremble in my voice gives my hurting heart away.

He clears his throat, “And I put him through hell every day for it.”

“He really has.” Rose confirms, full on smiling at me.

Emmett sets me back down on my own two feet, holding my shoulders in his massive hands, “Never again, I can promise you that.”

“Emmett-” I start, but he isn’t having it.

“Nope, we’re already late for class and I have some catching up to do.” Winking, he offers me one arm and his mate the other, leading us in the direction of next period.

• March 21st, 2006 • Home •

Reader

“Hey, you got a sec?” Knocking on the door frame to my mother’s bedroom, I watch as she turns off her tv.

“For you? Always honey, c’mere.” She pats the bed in front of her, her full attention making me a little nervous.

I sit and work up the courage for a few beats. “He’s back.”

“I know, I saw Doctor Cullen at work yesterday.” Her calm answer surprises me.

“I’m not sure what to do, momma.” I pull at her old bed spread, hoping for some words of wisdom.

“Well, you have options.” Her warm hands cover mine and encourage me to meet her eyes. “You can kick him to the curb since he dropped off the face of the earth for six months.”

“Or?” I ask, provoking her to complete her unfinished advice.

“Or, you can give him another chance.” A beat of silence while I weighed her answer. “You don’t have to do it right away either, you can ask for space to think about it. You can make him talk it out too.”

I process the possibility of cutting him out of my life for all of half a second before my heart tells me it’s impossible.

“Talk to him, I know you need to.” My mother has always been able to read me like a book, it’s why it’s so easy to get along with her.

“Why give me options? Why not forbid me to see him?”

Her knowing smile grows, “Because you’ll do what you want anyways. And no matter how much I want to protect my baby,” she lovingly strokes my cheek, “you have to navigate this in a way that heals that pretty heart of yours. I’d be failing you as a parent to not allow you to figure this out.”

“Mom-” tears threaten the corners of my eyes.

“Don’t think that means I’ll cut him some slack.” She jokes, but her tone includes some seriousness. “He hurt my baby.”

“I love you, you know that?”

“Always sweet pea, I love you too.” She delivers a sloppy kiss to my cheek before reclining back to her previous tv-watching position.

Rising from her bed with a lighter heart in my chest, she stops me at her doorway, “I got your back kid, whatever you decide.”

I turn and give her a genuine smile, “I know, thanks mom.”

• March 22nd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Setting my tray down at the dubbed “Cullen table” I make direct eye contact with Edward as I stand before the siblings.

Don’t fucking do that again.

His face splits with a grin. “To which are you referring?”

Leaving her, leaving your family, going to Volterre with a death wish, you fucking idiot.

He actually laughs at my angry directive thoughts, the bastard.

You have people that care about you, you know. My eyes soften as his meet mine seriously. Including me. I’m glad you’re safe. And home.

He nods, unable to meet my eyes now.

“I’d hug you if you weren’t so adverse to physical affection.” Before I finish my statement, he rises from his chair to round the table towards me.

Shock roots me to the spot as his arms envelop lightly around my frame, my arms hesitantly wrapping around the tall Cullen after a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s whispered low enough for just me to hear and he’s returning to his seat.

Emmett’s jaw practically hits the floor, “You’ve never given me a hug-”

“Because your hugs are rather violent in their intensity.” Edward notates.

“But-” Emmett whines.

“No ‘buts’, I’m his favorite.” Sticking out my tongue at Emmett as I take my seat next to Jasper, the jealous vampire launches into a deep explanation of why he must be the family favorite.

“Thank you for starting something I will never hear the end of.” Jasper leans over to whisper in my ear as I grin at Edward who rolls his eyes.

“Glad to be of service.”

Reader

That afternoon I rode with Alice to the Cullen’s after school, something about an intervention with Bella and their family. And naturally, the curious part of me agreed to tag along.

The moment her car comes to a stop in their driveway, Jasper is opening my door and offering me a steadying hand.

“Do you know what this is about?” I ask, watching as Alice skips ahead of us.

“Not a clue, sweet girl.” He answers, leading me inside his family home.

His cool hand enveloping mine sends a pang through my chest, it’s like none of this is real - I’m just in some heavy dream. I’ve wished and hoped for their return with every fucking cell in my body, but now that they’re back? It’s surreal and I’m on edge - I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Standing loosely in a circle in the living room, our attention turns to Bella on the stairs, Edward looming behind her.

“You all know what I want. And I know how much I’m asking for. The only thing I can think of, for it to be fair, is to just vote.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Shut up.” Bella shushes Edward from his grumbling.

Bella is asking them to vote on her becoming a vampire? A slight tremble begins in my hands, this isn’t exactly a debate I’d wished to be a part of. I mean, what would this mean for me? Would we eventually have one of these for me?

“Alice?” Bella asks, opting for starting with the one securely in her corner.

“I already consider you my sister.” She surges forward to wrap her in a hug. “Yes.”

One vote yes.

“Thank you.”

“I vote yes.” The rumble of Jasper’s chest under the hand I have placed there stops my breathing. “It would be nice to not want to kill you all the time.”

It would be nice to not want to kill you all the time. The words ring in my ears and burn my chest, repeating.

Two votes yes.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry to both of you for how I’ve acted. And I’m really grateful that you were brave enough to go and save my brother.” Rosalie’s next sentence a quiet confession within her answer, “But this isn’t a life I would’ve chosen for myself. And I wish there had been someone there to vote no for me. So, no.”

A breath, one vote no.

“I vote hell yeah.” Em spins her around in his excitement, “We can pick a fight with these Volturi some other day.”

Three votes yes, one vote no.

“I already consider you a part of the family, yes.” Esme happily gives her blessing as Carlisle steps forward to look at Edward.

Four votes yes, it’s almost unanimous.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He asks his adoptive father. “You know what this means.”

“You’ve chosen not to live without her, which leaves me no choice. I won’t lose my son.”

Carlisle’s answer is like a gavel being slammed down, sealing her fate, confirming what she wants.

Bella meets my eyes, even I can tell relief floods them as I’m sure anxiety fills mine. She’s going to turn into one of them - a vampire.

Jasper

After a few heavy minutes following the votes of my family, I turn to Y/n.

“Would you like to go home? It’s getting late.” I ask her, but her eyes are distant.

Immediately I gently probe at her emotions, but I can feel her trying to suppress them. I furrow my brow as I look down at her, why is she hiding from me?

I tilt her chin back and she removes herself entirely. Ice, I know as a vampire my core temperature is already low from the absence of blood in my system, but with her physical departure - it feels as though every ounce of warmth has been zapped from my very soul.

“I need time.” Her request is hardly a whisper and her eyes still refuse to meet mine.

Shock roots me to the floor, time? She’s asking for time from me. Not with, from. Away. Without.

And I must grant it to her. I’d give her anything in this world she would ask for.

I remove myself a step back from her even though my chest wishes to tug me forward.

“Emmett?” I ask aloud, not taking my eyes from her, he immediately answers by way of flashing to my side. “Take her home?”

“Of course, but-?” Curiosity tinged with sadness finishes what he fails to ask.

“Just get her home safe, please.” I step aside, forcing my eyes to my shoes as I clear the path to the front door for them.

Emmett escorts her outside and I swear, every bit of strength leaves and threatens to buckle me. I watch as the Jeep’s tail lights disappear down the driveway from the front windows.

“It’s the right thing to do.” Esme lays a hand on my shoulder as she watches with me, I hate the truth in her words. “She needs to process everything, we haven’t given her the chance and now this with Isabella, it’s a lot.”

“I know.”

Love. “Come here.”

I turn into her waiting arms, the overwhelming urge to cry hits me like a fucking freight train when her arms pull me close.

“She will be back, just be patient with her.”

“What if she realizes-”

“Nonsense, she’s hopelessly in love with you.”

I pull back to inspect her face, “What?”

She smiles at me in only the way a mother really can, “My son, trust me. Give her a few days, but she needs to know that love is returned.”

“How do you-”

“I’ve known since the day you first brought her home. I knew then she was yours before you ever figured out she was your singer, I’m a mom like that.” Winking at me, she pats my shoulder. “She makes you happier, lighter. It makes me happy to finally see that in you.”

Venomous tears make my vision swim, more often than not I take the fact that Esme mothers us in ways unique to every single one of us for granted.

Glancing down, I clear my throat like a typical male trying to avoid being emotional, “Thank you, Esme.”

“Dear, you never have to thank me, I love you more than you know.”

“I love you too.” I kiss her on the cheek, our talk having smoothed out my frayed nerves.

Time. I can give her time to think, to process everything that’s happened in the last week. But then she’s mine - she has to know how I feel about her. And if she wants nothing to do with me after that?

Well, I guess I’d give her that too.

But not until after I fight for her, because fighting for her is in my bones. Fighting is all I’ve ever known and it’s time I put it to good use.

Next

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

[errorryx]

melodrama

read on ao3 | wild life, grumbo, 1.1k words

“I don’t like that one bit!” Mumbo tells him. “I’m all the friend that you need.”

And that’s when Grian gets an idea. A horrible, wonderful idea.

—

So maybe he had goals in mind. Maybe he had plans. Maybe he wanted this season to be something completely different from what it’s becoming. None of that matters anymore, because Grian’s self-control is shot to hell the second he hears those words. He should know better by now than to have faith in himself.

Here’s what matters now: Mumbo is Grian’s and Grian’s is his, to an extent that makes it hard to care about anything else. And Grian desperately wants to see how far Mumbo will go to keep it that way.

The wildcard ending early is the best excuse he could have hoped for. He goes back home with Mumbo and Skizz for the night, then sneaks out as loudly and obviously as he dares. Skizz could sleep through a hurricane, but Grian knows Mumbo will hear him. He doesn’t have to look back to know that Mumbo is watching as he slips out the front door.

Mumbo follows him up the cherry stairs. He’s making an effort to be quiet, but Grian can still hear soft footsteps behind him.

On top of the mountain, a red Scar awaits him. He’s sound asleep, but he’s still so very Scar, snoring softly, eyelids fluttering, one arm curled protectively around Jimmy beside him. There’s a part of Grian that wants to be in Jimmy’s place, or even Scar’s, but it’s not enough to lose sight of his objective. It’s not enough to forget the furious tension from the man standing behind him.

“I knew it,” Mumbo hisses, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are trying to leave us.”

He seems to be trying not to disturb the sleeping trio in front of Grian. But as always, Mumbo is careful but not careful enough. Lizzie twitches immediately, and Scar shifts in his sleep only moments after.

Grian turns around, not even bothering to feign surprise. “Shh,” he whispers back. “You’ll wake them up.”

“Fine,” Mumbo says, and stomps closer to grab Grian by the hem of his shirt. All the blood rushes to Grian’s head as Mumbo drags him away, past the giant parrots and halfway down the mountain. “There. Now explain yourself.”

He keeps a tight grip on Grian’s sweater, as if that’s enough to keep Grian somewhere he doesn’t want to be. It’s a good thing for Mumbo that Grian’s exactly where he wants to be right now.

“I just wanted to talk to Scar about something,” Grian says innocently. He doesn’t try to shake Mumbo off or push him away, just lets him do what he wants. “I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss about it.”

“You had plenty of time to talk to Scar all day,” Mumbo huffs. “The only reason to wait until the middle of the night is if you’re trying to ditch us.”

“So you really meant it, then.”

“Meant what?”

“You told me you didn’t want me to have other friends, remember?”

“And clearly I was right,” Mumbo says, “because apparently, your definition of ‘having friends’ means sneaking off in the middle of the night behind my back. Who knows what you would have done if I hadn’t caught you.”

“Who knows,” Grian echoes. “Certainly not me.” He’s not even lying; he didn’t plan on saying anything to Scar. He correctly assumed that Mumbo would stop him before that point.

Mumbo’s eyes narrow. “Don’t lie. You’re up to something, I know it.”

“Up to something? That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“Just tell me the truth,” Mumbo says. “We’re supposed to be a team, Grian!”

Grian shrugs, unimpressed. “You want to know the real reason I went to visit Scar?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“It was just to get your attention. I wanted to see you freak out on me.”

Mumbo’s expression goes from anger to complete bafflement. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Really? You don’t get it?” Grian sighs at Mumbo’s blank stare. “Let go of me already and I’ll tell you.”

To his surprise, Mumbo listens. Now free to do as he pleases, Grian explains himself in the easiest way he can think of—he takes a few steps back and lunges, latching onto Mumbo with all four limbs.

It’s a close thing; Mumbo very nearly topples over. Grian folds his legs around Mumbo’s waist and rests his head on Mumbo’s shoulder, speaking softly in his ear. “It’s because I like when you’re being awful, you spoon.”

“You do?”

“Of course! I do it all the time, don’t I? I wouldn’t dish it out if I couldn’t take it.”

“Yes you would,” Mumbo says. “Repeatedly. Habitually, even.”

Grian sticks out his tongue at him, even though he knows Mumbo won’t be able to see it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You really like it, though?” Mumbo asks him. “I thought for sure you were getting sick of me.”

“Then why keep doing it?”

This question stumps him for a bit. Finally, Mumbo splutters out, “I suppose once I got started, I didn’t know how to stop.”

Grian can’t do anything but laugh at this answer. “See? Now you know how it feels!”

“It felt so natural,” Mumbo says. He’s starting to sound ashamed, and Grian can’t have that. “I didn’t even question it. Something must be wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Grian insists, leaning back to look Mumbo in the eyes. He has to wrap both hands around the back of Mumbo’s neck to do it, so he tries not to squeeze very hard. “In fact, I think you should get worse.”

“Well, I think you’re a terrible influence on me.”

“I think you like it.”

“I do,” Mumbo says, clearly distressed by this fact. “It’s horrible. This is not how we win a death game, Grian!”

Part of Grian wants to tell him that he’ll try his best to help Mumbo win, but he isn’t in the business of giving out false hope. Another part of him wants to try and convince Mumbo that winning isn’t worth the effort, but that approach could easily backfire. He’s left with only one option in the end, the same option as always.

Deny, deflect, distract. Keep the game-within-a-game going. Never leave time to stop and rethink.

“We could burn down the parrots tomorrow,” Grian suggests. “Kill some dark greens. Kick Skizz out of the group. Whatever you want.”

“I like the sound of all those things,” Mumbo says. “But I really only want one thing.”

Grian laughs. “Don’t worry,” he tells Mumbo. “It’s already yours.”

—

if you read this all the way through and enjoyed, please consider reblogging!

[piastrinorris]

What Are Friends For?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: Stranger Things (series), 18+ (MINORS DNI), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), masturbation (f receiving),

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: A late night post-Truth or Dare chat with your best friend has you admitting your own lack of experience, sexually. Thankfully, he's more than happy to tutor you.

A/N: finally got inspo for one of my wips! just another 12 to go 🙃

As Nancy and Robin work together to drag a near-catatonic Eddie out of Steve's living room, you nudge the party’s host’s foot with your own. “Alright, Harrington, truth or dare?”

He chuckles, “Seriously? Still? We’re the only two people left, right now.”

You shrug, “’M not ready to go home, yet. Unless you’re really willing to turf out your best friend onto the cold, dark streets of Indiana?” You look at him, doe-eyed, and he laughs again.

“Okay, fine, I’ll bite. Truth.”

“Who’d you lose your V-card with?” you ask plainly, and Steve, halfway through a sip of his drink, chokes on it.

“What the hell! Remind me who it was that insisted on the ‘nothing sexual’ rule when we started playing?” he sputters out.

You shrug, “Around the others, sure, but I’m curious. It’s like, the one thing we never talk about.” 

Steve sighs in defeat. “It was… Tina Langdon. At that party on the last day of sophomore year. The one you wouldn’t go to.”

“Couldn’t,” you correct him, “I was ill, remember?”

He scoffs, “Please, you were fine all day, you can’t fool me, you just chickened out!”

“This isn’t about that,” you shake your head, feeling yourself get flustered.

Steve grins slowly. “Yeah, it is! I know you, you were getting some heavy hints from… Who was that guy, oh my god, this is gonna bug me…” He falters, rubbing his jaw in thought.

"Greg Patowski," you mutter.

"Greg Patowski," he repeats in a reminiscent tone, shaking his head and looking up as he waves his finger up and down. "Alright, 'fess up, your turn now. Who was yours?"

Your cheeks burn hot. "Steve!"

He grins wickedly at you. "C'mon, dishing out what you can't take? That's not like you! You started this!"

After a moment, you bashfully murmur, "It was… It - you just…" Steve still looks at you with anticipation, so you blurt out, "It was Greg, okay?!" He scoffs in disbelief. "He - it was that night, too, actually. He came over from the party to 'check on me', we made out on my bed, it… went further. He was in the room and out again within ten minutes," you admit with a scowl.

Steve's jaw drops in shock. "Are you serious?!" You nod. "Who el-"

"No! My turn to ask now." You take another moment to compose yourself before asking, "W-what's your favourite, like, part of it?"

"Sex?" he asks, and you nod. He blows a long breath out before eventually answering, "Probably the stuff before it. Like head, god. Giving it? Hell, yeah. Getting it? I swear, I don't care what else happens," he throws his head back and smiles wistfully.

Shuffling in your seat, you ask, "H-how did you know what to do?"

"Hm?" Steve asks, and you die a little internally as the thought of repeating yourself, though it seems as though he's heard you. "Oh, well, Tina was, as you know, the grade above us, so she was already more… Experienced, and that helped a lot. She pretty much told me where to go and what to do." He shrugs. 

You're already nervous enough about having to explain yourself to him, when Robin and Nancy reappear at the doorway. "Hey," Nancy calls, making you jump. "Uh, we threw Eddie into one of the guest rooms. Rob and I are just gonna head home, now."

Steve frowns, "You carried him all the way upstairs? I could've done that for you!"

Robin glares at him from under her brow. "What, because two poor, defenceless young women couldn't handle it on their own?" She gives you a look which you silently translate and respond by punching Steve in the arm, which makes Robin laugh, "Nice. See you kids around!"

"Night!" Nancy calls after her before they both head out the front door.

Steve rubs his arm and pokes your shoulder. "So, Jumpy McPuncher."

"Good one," you deadpan, and he laughs.

"C'mon, spill. What's got you so worked up?"

"Well…" you start hesitantly. "You know I was telling you about the guy who's been kinda flirting with me at work?" Steve nods. "I was, uh, thinking of asking him out, but then I was thinking about the bigger picture, and how eventually that's gonna lead to - to, y’know, possibly sleeping with him, and I was wondering how to make it… Enjoyable, since I don't really know how to…" you falter through the end of your sentence, and Steve frowns.

"You've… Been with others since Greg, right?" You shake your head, and he looks at you incredulously. "What?! You've dated people since then!"

"Dated, sure, but I'd make up some shit about not being ready for a commitment before it got to that point," you admit quietly. 

Steve nods slowly, with a thoughtful frown. "Okay. So… You wanna learn how to please a guy?" You nod bashfully and his nod quickens as he hops up onto the couch you'd been leaning against. "Alright."

You look at him in confusion. "W-what are you -?"

He takes some pillows off of the couch and hands them to you. "For your knees," he explains.

"Are you…?" You ask quietly.

"Offering myself as your test dummy? Sure, if it'll help you out," Steve's reply is so casual. "That is, of course, if you want, don't feel like you have t- oh, okay," he smirks as you tentatively unbutton his jeans.

You snap your hands back into your lap in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do that?"

"No, no, if… If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, we really don't have to," he studies you with concern, but you shake your head.

"No, I… I want to. This is the best case scenario, right? I can learn, and not worry about disappointing - not that I don't care what you think, but like, you're you, you know?"

He smiles warmly. "Sure am, and you're you. And I'll guide you on what to do, but you gotta be confident with it, 'kay? Just get going with it, and don't take it personally if I tell you to do something a little different, alright?" You nod, and once again reach to undo his jeans. He shuffles them down to his thighs, and you can see a noticeable bulge in his underwear. "You wanna take it out, or me to, or not yet?"

"Can I…?" You clear your throat, remembering what he just said about confidence. "Can i just touch it over…?" You hold your hand to hover just over his crotch area and he smiles with a nod. The affirmation is oddly calming as you start palming him, and he hums out a soft moan.

"That feels nice," he muses. "Nice and gentle."

He keeps humming with delight as he watches you, and you notice something as you keep palming him. "You're getting hard, already."

"Doesn't take much, right?" he smirks. "Plus, you're doing so well, there."

"I, um… I know you're saying I should take things at my own pace, but I don't wanna take too long, should I take it out now?"

"Go for it," Steve mutters under his breath, still smiling.

You reach beneath the elastic of his underwear, take his shaft in your hand and move it out into view. Your eyes widen and your jaw drops when you see the size of it. "You, uh, you're much bigger than Greg Patowski."

He chuckles, "Good to know. Still wanna keep going?"

You nod, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Yeah. So, what do I do from here?"

"Whatever you feel like doing," he shrugs. "You can use your lips and kiss it, or use your tongue and lick it, or you can get straight onto putting it on your mouth. I promise you, as long as it feels good for you, it's gonna feel good for me, too."

You study his member for a few seconds before tentatively licking along his length. He lets his head loll against the back of the couch. "Oh, god, yes. That feels so good. Mmm, and you look good doing it, too," he muses as he looks at you. You look up at him and chirp in questioning affirmation, and he bites his lip. "So good. You know, if you really wanna tease them, you can push your whole mouth against it without wrapping your lips arou- oh, fuck, just like that," he groans as you lean into your motions.

You sit back on your heels to frown, "But if I do that, there's still so much that I can't fit."

"So there is," he raises his eyebrows. "Why don't you try spitting into your hand and getting to work on the rest of it?"

After spitting into your palm, you smirk up at him. "Oh, you want me to get to work?"

He's about to give you an equally smug response when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and start working it. "Fuck, yes, there you go, just keep touching m- mmfff," he moans. "God, see? You're a natural."

Still stroking him, you experimentally run your tongue around his swollen mushroom tip, to which he grips the cushions next to him oh-so tightly. You finally wrap your lips around his member and sink down onto it as much as you can.

He moans so loudly that he brings the couch cushion up to his mouth to bite down on it. It makes you instinctively hum around his cock, which makes him squirm and whine more. You pull back again to look up at him in awe, and he asks, "What? Surprised that I'm moaning, or that you're able to make me?

"A little of both," you admit bashfully, and he sits back, spreading his legs further as he leans back. 

"Well, when you're doing such a good job, of course I'm gonna," he smirks.

"S'pose I've got a good teacher, huh?" You raise your eyebrows as you jerk him off.

He shakes his head, "Can't take credit for that, baby, this has all been you. Though, if you want a little guidance, why don't you try sucking your cheeks in while you're down there?"

You happily take him back into your mouth, revelling in his moans as he encourages you. Every ounce of praise he gives you tingles that shoot to your core, and every instance of him calling you a good girl has you light-headed.

You try and sneak your hand between your thighs, but it doesn't go unnoticed. With a chuckle, Steve asks, "You good?"

You whine, "Y're not… Th'only one who's… Enjoying this."

His smug expression stretches into a full-blown grin. "Yeah? You wanna touch yourself? Go ahead."

"Is this good? The right thing to do?" You ask as you reach inside your panties, face melting with pleasure as you finally make contact with yourself.

"Fuck, yes, baby, you look so fucking hot down there, getting yourself off to - what is it, huh? You like the praise? The moans? Or do you just really like having my cock in your mouth?"

That's the real answer, right at the end. You've never especially wanted to get this intimate with anyone, not even that one flirty customer you'd thought about asking out, but now there's only one person you ever want to be thus close with.

But he's your best friend. He's doing this in the name of helping you overcome your anxieties, that's all. You can't jeopardise what you've got with him.

"All of it," you whimper out, briefly looking over to glance at his fingers to allow yourself to imagine them as you sink your own inside you, getting back to sucking him off, making sure you hollow your cheeks every now and again like he told you.

With his moans, you lose yourself in the moment of imagining him touching you that as you hook your fingers inside of you, you instinctively keel over, sinking yourself further down on his cock. Steve lets out a long, stuttered groan at that. "Fucking shit, baby, y'almost got me in whole, god, wanna fuck the rest of me into you, too." You whine around him and he tuts, "Don't think you're ready for that, yet. You're gonna gag, and I don-"

You push yourself even further down, trying desperately to ignore your gag reflex, and he throws his head back to moan, "Fuck, yes, good girl! Such a good girl, taking all of that fucking cock, and holding it there, all while touching yourself, fuck. You're so hot, y'know that? Oh, fuck, baby, you need to breathe, c'mon," he reminds you softly, pushing you away. "That's it, oh, look at all that drool," he simpers, wiping the spit from your chin.

"Do… Do people like that? Seeing all… This?" You gesture towards your face, and he shakes his head.

"Don't know, don't care, doesn't matter. I fucking love it," he groans as you wrap your hand around his shaft again, stroking him all the way from base to tip. "Oh, shit, you really are a fucking natural at getting me off, baby. You gonna get us both off at the same time, yeah?" You nod, and his face contorts with his impending climax. "Fuck, get that mouth back on me, I wanna feel your moans against my cock coax the cum right outta me."

Not needing to be told twice, you happily comply, making sure you try to moan around him as much as possible. He strains out another moan, gasping out, "Fuck, so… So proud of you, look at you. Taking me so well, looking so fucking good touching yourself. Such a good little student, 'm gonna teach you so much more. How a real man eats you out, how a real man fucks you, fuck, so much for you to learn. Y'want that, baby? Tell me. Tell me with my fucking cock in your mouth."

"Wan' y'to hh-fuck me, hh-so bad," you whine, not moving, and he groans.

"You're so fucking cute when you talk with your mouth full, baby. Aww, you gonna do it? You gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth of yours?" he groans, and you rub at your clit rapidly. "That's my good girl, fuck, look up at me with those eyes, so sweet, so sexy, while you get us both off, c'mon, baby, you can do it, atta girl."

The impending desperation in his tone mixed with his words finally sends you over the edge, moaning shrilly around his cock as you feel your orgasm press deeper than anything's ever felt before. You practically see spots as you squirt all over your fingers, trying desperately to stay focused on keeping Steve's cock in your mouth long enough to take all of his load, swallowing everything as he gives it to you.

He breathes deeply as he comes down from his high, smiling blissfully as he sits forward, cradling your face in his hands. His large, thick-fingered hands. He licks his lips to speak when the wet patch on the pillow you'd been sitting on distracts him. "Holy shit, did you squirt?!" You look up at him and shrug, and he strokes his thumbs against your cheeks. "From now on, I'm making that happen for you, 'kay?"

"So, you meant it? You'll keep teaching me?" You ask hopefully.

"In a ways," he shrugs. "I'll keep showing you what real pleasure feels like… But not for some… Guy who shows up at your work sometimes. Sure as shit not for some Greg Patowski type. I'm. Here to please, you. Got that?" 

You nod, licking your lips, a hint of a smile tickling at you. "Real hung up on Greg still, huh?"

"Yeah, well, it should've been me," Steve admits. "I wanted to make my move that night, but then Patowski bounced early, and everyone was talking about how he was bragging about how he was gonna seal the deal with you. And so, my young and stupid self went and drowned my sorrows with Tina."

You chuckle softly. "You know, when I heard knocking at my window that night, I really hoped it would be you. Always dreamt of you sneaking in through my window and having your way with me. But I like this better."

"You do?" he asks, leaning closer.

"Yeah. You were right, about getting with someone with more experience." You shuffle yourself closer to him, further between his legs, letting go your arms rest around his hips. "'Cause now you've definitely ruined other men for me."

He grins, pulling you up and scooping you I to his lap before grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you fervently. "You wrecked me a long time ago, baby. Glad to see you're finally catching up."

[sapphire-writes]

Ch. 3: Aemond Sees A Ghost

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

summary ~ Aemond tells you everything.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: NSFW/MDNI ~ dubcon (possession), kissing, grinding, spooky stuff, thunderstorms, mentions of death, themes of loss

note: I'd say we're halfway through our spooky adventure! smh I can't believe it! I hope you enjoy loves!

banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

“I want to know everything.”

The kettle whistles noisily before you remove it from the burner. Aemond sits in his usual spot clad in checkered pajama pants and a gray cotton t-shirt. You wonder how he isn’t cold, your bare arms are covered in goosebumps and you wish you’d grabbed a sweatshirt before leading him down to the kitchen. 

There’s a constant unearthly chill in this house. You set the tea in front of him, his fingers brushing against yours as you sit beside him. 

“Harrenhal,” he says softly, as a floorboard creaks overhead. You both glance up at the ceiling, watching as the chandelier trembles, the crystals reflecting the dim kitchen light. 

You’ve seen it happen before when people walk upstairs; when little Jaehaera runs down the hall, when workers are moving down the hallways. The hour is late now, the workers have gone home, and little Jaehaera is tucked safely in her bed. 

The floorboards above creak, regardless of the truth. 

“We’re not the only ones here,” you slowly begin, eyes falling back to Aemond’s face, “We’re not the only ones in Harrenhal. Are we?”

Aemond is silent for a moment.

“No,” he says softly, “We aren’t.”

Tea turns to coffee as the sky lightens. 

And Aemond tells you everything. 

“Ghosts,” you breathe, “But…that’s not possible.”

“It is,” Aemond insists, “There is something here. Some energy….the locals are right when they call this place cursed. Tragedy befalls anyone who holds it.”

Your skill prickles with goosebumps. Aemond holds it. What tragedy will befall him? You think of Alys, of the sudden death of his wife. 

Perhaps his tragedy has already unfolded. 

“It was Harren, last night,” Aemond tells you, “And his sons, I presume. The original manor was burnt to the bare bones after they created it. With him and his sons inside of it. A terrible fire.”

A chill runs through you at the memory.

“I’ve encountered them before. They’re rather harmless,” Aemond continues, “Simply walking the halls throughout the night. Others are not as pleasant, but…harmless. For the most part.” He pauses, glancing up at you.

The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention.

“What others?” you ask, though you’re unsure if you want the answer. 

“The ones I’ve encountered throughout my time here,” Aemond sighs, rubbing his eyes. The ring on his hand catches your eye; stamped with the Targaryen crest.

You’d see another just like it. Daemon’s face flashes across your mind.

“Your uncle was here,” you tell him, watching as his spine straightens, his shoulders tense, “He knows about them too I presume? He said some things---I’m sorry….it was when you were away, I nearly forgot-”

“What did he want?” Aemond interrupts, staring at you with a renewed fire in his eye.

“He just wanted to speak with you,” you tell him.

“Did he bother you? Was he inappropriate?”

“He was a bit flirtatious, that’s all,” you assure him, cheeks warming at the memory. 

Aemond bristles at that, his hand clenching into a fist. Your stomach flips with embarrassment, the burning sensation on your cheeks spreading down your neck.

“I apologize for that,” he says cooly, “He’s a vile creature.”

You place your hand on top of his fist, “It’s alright.”

Aemond’s gaze softens, and he places his opposite hand on top of yours. You lose yourself in the sensation of his hand on yours for a moment, a pleasant swooping sensation in your lower stomach. You hold his gaze, desire burning hot in your belly. It’s you who looks away first, feeling embarrassed about the intense longing you feel for your employer. You shouldn’t be thinking like this.

“Who was screaming?” you ask, bringing the conversation back to the ghosts.

You can almost hear it still, the sound of screaming echoing in your mind. You’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to forget, even when Harrenhal is simply a memory. Aemond only stares.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, “I’m not…sure.”

You don’t know which answer you’d hoped for but find that the one Aemond gives brings you no comfort. 

Jaehaera hates thunderstorms. 

This is mostly due to the fact that the nursery has a balcony with French doors overlooking the God’s Eye and backyard. When it is sunny, warm rays light the room making it appear bathed in gold. But when it rains, water is hurled violently against the glass echoing throughout the room.

The nursery also has a closet on the opposite side of the room; the doors are made of mirrors. The room was once used as a dance studio, you could tell the moment you’d stepped inside. The wood floors are scuffed from years of use. You can’t help but wonder who danced there.  

This is exactly why Jaehaera insisted on a sleepover in the main living room that night. She suggested it during dinner when thunderclouds were just starting to roll in and turn the sky an eerie gray color. 

“I like it,” Helaena spoke, surprising you, “Let’s have a proper campout.”

So you found yourselves dragging blankets and pillows down the stairs into the living room, assembling a blanket fort with Aemond’s help, and sitting inside of it. The small space was rather cramped with the three of you inside; baby Maelor was already sound asleep in his bassinet.

Helaena was quiet the majority of the time, besides when she was quietly humming to herself. She seemed happy though from what you could tell. As happy as Helaena could be. She always had an air of melancholia around her. 

“I have a story,” Helaena says. 

It is the first time she’s spoken that evening. Jaehaera stands behind Aemond braiding his hair as she often does. She glances at her mother, giving her a toothy grin. 

“A long time ago,” Helaena begins, her eyes looking somewhere far off, “There was a girl dressed in green locked away in a castle.”

“I like castles,” Jaehaera comments, continuing to braid Aemond’s hair.

“She was young and beautiful, and very, very sad,” Helaena continued, “She wed the king, and became a queen. It was everything a girl should want. But she didn’t want it at all.”

You watch Helaena as she taps her nails against the cup of tea she holds. They’re painted silver; Jaehaera’s doing. The paint is chipped around her thumbs already. A nervous habit you’d noticed. 

“Why not?” Jaehaera asks, her nose scrunched as she pouts, “I’d like to be a queen.”

“She was in love with the princess, you see, and never wanted the old king. But he took her anyway because that is what men in power do. They take pretty little girls and keep them locked away.”

“Did she have children?” Jaehaera asks.

“She did. Many. She loved them all dearly. Beautiful children they were, and they were all taken from her. She outlived them all,” Helaena continues, “Mad with grief, the queen locked herself away this time.”

Helaena sips from her cup, a smile twitching on her lips.

“I never understood Daisy before having a child,” she muses, switching away from her story, “Before having a girl. I hope she’ll be a fool.”

A shiver rolls down your spine as Helaena locks eyes with you.

“That’s the best thing a girl can be in this world. A beautiful little fool,” she says softly, eyes flickering toward her brother, “Mũna said the same thing once, didn’t she Aem?”

Aemond holds his sister’s gaze, “I don’t remember.”

“I’m sure of it,” she says, mouth stretching open into a yawn, “You’d read aloud and Mũna would stroke your hair. You always liked that book.”

“I like a lot of books,” Aemond says, the top of his cheeks turning pink as he reaches behind him and lifts a giggling Jaehaera into the air as he stands, “It’s late, zaldrīzītsos. Time for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” Jaehaera insists, though she echoes her mother’s yawn.  

You all exit the fort, Helaena retiring to the couch. She lays on her back, stretching like a cat. 

“Mhmm,” Aemond says, depositing her into Helaena’s arms on the couch.

He tucks them both in, turning the remainder of the lights off before joining you on the makeshift mattresses on the floor. You can only see the outline of him in the darkness; the curve of his nose, the twinkling of his eye. 

“Is Helaena alright?” you whisper, and he presses a finger to your lips.

“Yes,” he breathes, thumb tracing your lower lip, “Thank you, for doing this.”

“Of course,” you whisper, barely breathing as his finger traces down your chin, “Are you tired?”

“No,” he says softly, his hand sliding down the curve of your neck, “I’m a bit of an insomniac.”

Your breathing becomes labored as his thumb strokes your collarbone. You wish you’d worn something else, not the ratty old band t-shirt you’d chosen paired with some sleep shorts.

“Oh,” you say, unsure of how else to answer him. 

Your thoughts scramble when he touches you, as though his touch short circuits the wiring in your brain. He says your name then, so softly you almost miss it. He’s close enough to kiss, all you need to do is lean forward and his nose will bump against your own.

His hand falls from you. Eyes adjusted to the dark, you watch as his tongue darts out wetting his lower lip. 

“Aemond,” you say softly, and he reaches for you again, this time lacing his fingers through yours, “Will we be alright down here?”

His eye flickers around your face, his fingers tightening in your grip.

“I won’t let anything happen,” he assures, “To any of us.”

You choose to believe him. He sounds so certain, he truly believes it. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect Helaena. Jaehaera. Maelor.

You.

You rub your thumb against the smooth skin of the back of his hand and soon your eyes grow heavy as sleep overtakes you. 

You wake in the middle of the night, closer to morning than to midnight. The sky is still black as ink, the sounds of rain splattering against the many windows. There is no room for stars, the entire night sky is blacked out by rain clouds. 

Jaehara snores contentedly next to you, wrapped up in her mother’s embrace. Helaena’s sleeping form curls into her daughter, holding her in a cocoon of warmth. Mother and daughter look incredibly alike; both share the same nose and soft pout, their fair brows relaxed in sleep. The bassinet next to them holds a sleeping Maelor, his tiny nose scrunched as he dreams. 

You sit up from your spot on the floor, looking around the dark room. It’s hard to see anything before the room is illuminated by a flash of lightning. Aemond is no longer beside you. The room descends into darkness once more, and goosebumps rise on your arms as a chill enters the room. Helaena stirs in her sleep, pulling Jaehaera closer. A mother’s unconscious need to keep her daughter close.

Lightning flashes and the room is lit once more, a shadow dancing near the stairs. 

“Aemond?” you half whisper, as thunder booms through the sky.

The thunder is not as loud as it was earlier that night; the storm must be moving out. You rise from the floor, letting the blankets fall to a pile at your feet. It’s cold, much colder now that you’re in your sleep shorts and T-shirt. You move toward the staircase, around the corner, and down toward the kitchen. Perhaps he’s making tea.

When you enter the kitchen, it’s empty. No kettle whistling, no lamp, and no Aemond. A noise behind you causes you to turn.

There’s that shadow again.

“Aemond?” you call, louder this time. A small smile appears on your face.

Could he be playing a trick on you? Nervousness stirs in your belly, and you decide to follow, exiting the kitchen. You walk up the stairs, watching as the shadow dips down the left hallway, towards his study. 

Warmth floods through you, desire lodging in your stomach. It spreads through your limbs thick like honey, like you’re floating down the hall instead of walking. Your head buzzes, thoughts fuzzy as you reach for the handle of the door, opening it. 

Aemond looks up from his papers, a surprised look on his face as you close the door, pressing your back up against it. You’ve never been here before. The room is cozy. Warm. How can it be so warm when the rest of the house is so cold?

“You were gone,” you tell him, though it's phrased more like a question.

“I told you, I’m an insomniac,” he says, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile, “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you when you’re away,” you tell him, surprised at the words that leave your mouth, the raw honesty behind them.

Aemond’s lips part, and his lashes flutter at your confession. You walk deeper into the room, letting your hand trail across the spine of the many books that decorate his shelves. 

“You’re always away,” you tell him, tingling with anticipation, “I never see you anymore.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, as you turn to face him.

“This room,” you muse, “It’s like the heart of the house. Warm…tucked away.”

His cheeks are flushed, eyes focused on your face rather than the generous amount of thigh you’re showing. You glance down at your chest, watching your breasts rise and fall as you breathe then bring your eyes back to him. 

You walk towards him, still tracing the spines of the books that line his shelves. Your hand drops as you round the corner of his desk. Aemond has pushed himself from behind his desk, still seated in the large leather chair, his legs spread wide. His lips are parted, watching you in awe. 

“I just want you close,” you admit, stepping forward between his legs.

Aemond tenses as you place your knees on either side of his waist and straddle his lap. He groans as you sit, resting your weight against him.

“Y/N….” Aemond says, holding his hands up in surrender; he won’t meet your eyes.

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, lacing your fingers together. 

“Don’t you want me?” you whisper, tendrils of your hair tickling his sharp cheekbones. 

Aemond looks up then, eyes meeting yours and you watch his resolve crumble. He lowers his hands to your waist, before letting them rest at the junction of your hip and thighs. The air between you is heavy, your ears are ringing as you connect his mouth to yours. 

Fire burns brightly in your chest, warming your whole body as he kisses you. He tastes just like you’d dreamed he would; spearmint and tea, and something else that is entirely him. Rolling your hips against him you grind against the hardness forming between his legs. Gods he feels big.

You moan into his mouth, your mind happily buzzing as he squeezes the swell of your ass. His kiss is like a drug, like pure heaven racing through your veins. Your limbs are heavy, thoughts scattered and hazy. 

That’s it. “Fuck me,” you whisper, nails digging into his scalp, nipping at his lower lip before sucking it between your own. 

It’s bold, it’s lewd.

It’s not you.

Aemond groans, lifting you from his lap as he stands, and places you on his desk. You continue to kiss him, to tear at his button-down like a marionette on a string. Something is wrong. Nothing is wrong, just like that.

“Gods, you’re incredible,” he breathes, and you want to scream, to tell him to wait, not like this.

Not when it's not you. Not when your body is here, but your mind is not. It feels good though, yes? The puppetmaster continues plucking your strings, making you smile coyly at him.

“My Aemond,” you whisper, hands dipping below the waistline of his pants. 

Aemond freezes, pulling back from you. You tilt your head to the side as he cups your cheeks, looking deeply into your eyes. His eyes are searching, no longer clouded with lust. Your nails scrape against the smooth flesh of his lower abdomen, legs still locked behind his waist. 

“Why’d you stop?” your lips form the words, but it’s not you. 

Aemond’s face hardens, and he wets his lips as he releases your face. He brings his hands to your calves, unlocking them from around his waist. Gently, he places his hands on your wrists, removing them from his pants. 

“Alys, we’ve talked about this,” he says softly, taking a step back.

Suddenly, the feelings of sleep are greater, and your eyelids are heavy yet they remain open. You’re aware you’re still talking, still moving, but someone else is controlling it. It’s as though you’re hearing the conversation from a different room like you’ve stepped out of yourself for a moment. 

Alys. Shhhh. Alys Rivers. It’s alright. Aemond’s….Aemond’s Alys.

“But she’s perfect, Aemond,” your voice says, “And you like her, I know you do. I see the way you look at her. Touch her.”

“Let her go,” he says, voice almost a whisper, “Alys….please.”

She reaches for him, using your arms. It’s like you’re moving through molasses, though you can sense her desperation, her need for him. 

“We can have a baby now,” she insists, your voice breaking as she speaks, “One of our very own.”

“You have little Jaehaera-”

“I want my own, Aemond, you promised me!”

“That was before, Alys. Now you’re…” he lets the sentence trail off, “Things are different now.”

She brings your hand to cup your breast, and you watch Aemond’s eye flicker toward the movement.

“She’s perfect,” she tells him, “And she’s so sweet, so wet for you, my love. You should feel how much she wants you.”

“Stop,” Aemond says, clenching his hands into fists.

“She aches for you. Not just physically,” Alys insists, “I can feel it all, here in her head.”

“I said enough!” Aemond yells, followed by a clap of thunder. 

Alys doesn’t flinch, you can feel her unyielding strength inside of you. She tilts your chin higher, hand dropping from your breast. 

“She’s different than the other one,” Alys insists, “You didn’t even like that girl-”

“You’d no right to do that to Floris,” Aemond says, running a hand through his hair, “She was a sweet girl--”

“Sweet,” Alys scoffs, “Weak. You’ve gone soft, haven’t you?” She cocks your head to the side. “Do you not love me anymore?” she asks, her voice cold as ice.

“You know that isn’t true--”

“I don’t mind sharing--”

“You’re dead, Alys.”

She’s silent then, and your chest tightens with the agony she feels at his words. Aemond’s gaze is pained, his seeing-eye glassy with tears. 

“Release her-”

“I miss you,” she says, reaching for him, “That’s all. Is that so hard to believe?” She chuckles bitterly. “I just want our baby.”

“It’s not how it is supposed to be, Alys,” he says, taking the hand she offers, “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re always sorry,” she says, her voice trembling, “Just give me what I want.”

“I can’t do that,” Aemond says, “Let her go.”

Alys holds his hand a moment more. You feel a tear roll down your cheek leaving a hot stream behind. Then your limbs go rigid before all the tension in your body releases. Your head drops forward, limbs sagging into Aemond’s arms.

“It’s alright,” he says, lifting you into his arms bridal style, “I’ve got you.”

The feeling of sleep is different now; you’re groggy as though you’d just woken from a nap. Leaning into his chest, you press your face against his shoulder. Spearmint, aftershave, and tea. He smells so good. Your eyelids are heavy as he walks down the hallway. You can’t hear the rain anymore. Has it stopped?

“Aem-”

“Shh don’t speak,” he says, placing you in bed. 

You’re in your room. Here already? That was fast.

“What happened?” you ask, throat raw, mouth dry.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, laying his hand against your forehead. 

You welcome the heat. You’re so cold.

“The heart….” you murmur.

“What?”

“The heart of the house,” you mumble, “It’s cold…”

Aemond pulls your blankets around you, tucking you in tightly sitting beside you on the bed. 

“What was that?” you ask, as Aemond’s hand strokes your cheek.

“It was just Alys,” he assures you.

You sit up then, the sleepiness leaving your body rather quickly as though someone had poured ice water down your back. The sheets fall around your waist and Aemond sighs disapprovingly as your eyebrows knit together. His hand falls from your cheek, resting on your bent leg. 

“Alys,” you repeat, “Your wife.”

“Yes.”

“She made me….” your cheeks warm, “Did…did we…?”

“No,” Aemond assures, shaking his head, “No we only kissed.”

You can feel him still, the ache returning between your thighs. His violet eye watches you closely as does the sightless milky one. He’s reading every microexpression on your face like the pages of a book. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Whatever are you sorry for, dōna hāedar?” he says, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“That we…that when we kissed…” you murmur, looking down, cheeks blazing with embarrassment, “That it….that it wasn’t me.”

Aemond rubs circles on your knee, watching the movement. The room is silent for a moment apart from your steady breathing. There is an ache between your eyes, deep in your skull that you’ll no doubt need to sleep off. 

“We should rectify that,” Aemond says softly, “If you’d like.”

Your lips part as you meet his eyes again. He’s watching you so carefully, as though you may run from the grounds at any moment never to be seen again. 

But you’d made your choice. And you intended to stick to it.

“Yes,” you breathe, leaning forward, “I’d like to.”

“Then it’s settled,” he murmurs, leaning forward. Your eyes flutter shut as his nose bumps against yours causing you to gasp softly, lips parting even more, “It’s only right.”

You can feel his lips against yours as he speaks; just brushing slightly.

“I agree,” you say breathlessly, and he closes the gap, pressing his lips firmly against yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck. 

Your hand fists his shirt as you kiss him, his mouth hot and greedy against yours. His lips, his perfect lips fit against yours so perfectly, and he turns his head slipping his tongue into your waiting mouth. 

Gods you want him. You want him so badly you’re trembling with need. Aemond leans forward then, pressing you back against the bed, kissing you all the while. Your hands claw at him until his hands lace through yours, pressing them back against the mattress. He murmurs your name, lips trailing down the side of your throat. Yes, yes, yes. 

“Aemond!” you gasp, pushing at him suddenly. 

He tears his lips from yours, standing immediately as you gasp for breath. The pair of you stare at each other wide-eyed, trying to catch your bearings. 

“She’s here,” Aemond says, voice hoarse.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “It felt like she may…come back.”

“Fuck,” Aemond growls, “Fuck!”

You wet your lips, wanting nothing more than to hold him. Aemond leans against the bedpost, lost in thought.

“We have to be careful,” he says, “On the grounds. She’ll try…she doesn’t know what she’s doing.” You can hear the love he holds for her in his voice, even now. “She just wanted a baby.”

“It’s alright,” you tell him, “We’ll be careful. We won’t….” your sentence trails off. 

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, “Not long now. The house will go quickly once it’s on the market. Summerhal house is waiting for us.”

You force a small smile.

“No ghosts?” you ask. 

Aemond’s returning smile mirrors your own.

“No promises,” he says softly, “Get some sleep.”

“What about Helaena? And the children…”

“I’ll go to them,” he says, walking forward, placing a kiss on your forehead, “You rest.”

“Goodnight Aemond,” you call as he exits your room.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, the door clicking shut behind him.

You lay on the bed, your body trembling. The rain begins once more, the sound of thunder returning. It may be the rain, you’re not sure, but as you drift off to sleep you swear you hear the soft sounds of a woman crying somewhere in Harrenhal.

note: hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected (though you will receive a forehead kiss from me if you do any of them).

if you would like to be tagged in this series, please let me know!

ACP taglist: @aebi12 | @lokiofasgard12 | @darkenchantress | @echos-muses | @kaelatargaryen | @zenka69 | @heavenly1927 | @boofy1998 | @snh96 | @zillahvathek | @minttea07 | @promnightbinbaby | @marihoneywk

bold means I could not tag!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 🖤

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump day 3: "Bite down on this,"

Content warning: gunshot wound, rough caretaking

“Damnit, why the hell would you do that?!”

“I didn’t–I–,” Hero only stuttered in response, barely understandable. They were practically limp at Villain’s side, arm draped over Villain’s shoulder as they were dragged through the wilderness surrounding Supervillain’s forest.

Hero’s breath was coming out in panicked, choked wheezes, eyes wide and distant. Each frantic beat sent another gush of blood down their body, dripping from Hero’s side to fill the space between Hero’s and Villain’s bodies. Villain could feel the blood beginning to drip down their leg.

“I don’t need you to take a damn bullet for me! Not when we have no idea what Supervillain is capable of!” Villain hissed, voice tight.

“I don’t know why this is happening–!” Hero squeaked, a half scream. Their usual confidence was shattered, replaced with a genuine, raw fear that put Villain’s teeth on edge.

Villain didn’t know why it was happening either. Hero had taken far, far worse than a bullet without so much as bruising. A bullet should’ve been nothing to them. That fact was the only reason Villain had agreed to their teamup to defeat Supervillain. Hero was there to act like their shield, a big, dumb wall of muscle between Supervillain’s men and Villain.

So when Hero, that ever smug grin plastered onto their face, had swooped in between Villain and the barrel of Supvervillain’s gun, Villain’s only concern was the self-satisfied comments they would have to endure for allowing Hero to save their life.

They hadn’t expected shock to replace Hero’s grin. They hadn’t expected Hero to drop to the ground like a rock at their feet, eyes wide as red spread across their torso. They hadn’t expected a gleeful cackle from Supervillain, nor that the next sound to come out of Hero would be a scream.

And now they were running, dragging Hero’s half-limp body through the forest, Supervillain’s henchmen on their tails. They would die out here, hunted like simple prey animals, if something didn’t change soon.

“We’re stopping here,” Villain abruptly spoke, stopping when they found a small clearing. They moved over towards a fallen tree and, ignoring Hero’s cries of protest, rearranged their body to rest in a sitting position.

Hero’s body shook with effort as they tried to sit down. Their strength failed them halfway through, knees buckling and nearly sending them crumbling roughly to the ground. When they were finally positioned against the tree, Hero’s hands instantly moved to cover their injury.

Villain kneeled down and batted the hands away. Hero’s bloodied fingers still hovered anxiously near their torso.

It looked like a normal bullet wound, a fact that itself put Villain’s nerves on edge. Blood poured insistently from it, the red stain spreading with each second. Hero wouldn’t survive losing blood at that rate for long.

Villain leaned closer, until their eyes caught a flash of light. In the darkness of the forest, Villain could see something flashing a dull, unnatural green inside the wound. Whatever Supervillain had created to attack Hero with, it was still inside.

“I’m going to take the bullet out. Hold still.”

“W-what?! No-nononono I don’t–,” Panic instantly gripped Hero, their already paleing face nearly turning sheet white. They attempted to stumble to their feet, only to crumple back down with a choked gasp. “I’ve taken worse than this! Just–don’t touch it!”

“You have taken worse. I’ve personally thrown worse at you, and I’ve never once seen you bleed,” Villain pulled away for a moment, digging through their toolbelt to find anything they could use. “Something is wrong. Whatever bullet Supervillain made, it’s nullifying your powers. We have to remove it; you’ll either bleed out or be killed by Supervillain’s forces otherwise.”

“No!” Desperation laced the shout, so raw that Villain couldn’t help but stare at Hero in shock. Hero’s eyes were wild with terror as they squeezed their body against the tree, as if they could sink into the wood and hide away.

“I–I’ve never had to do anything like this! Nothing–,” tears were flowing unbidden now, leaving Hero to gasp pitifully. “Nothing’s ever hurt me! It’s gonna hurt, oh god it’s gonna hurt…I can’t do it!”

For a moment, Villain only stared, taken aback at hearing Hero, brave and obnoxious Hero, blubbering like a civilian.

The cruel part of their nature wanted to laugh. Here was their brave nemesis, someone who flew into danger without a second thought, who had faced countless enemies without fear, sniveling like a child at the doctor’s office. It was laughable, that Hero would be so terrified by something as simple as pain.

But the true terror, so foreign on Hero’s features, killed any humor Villain could feel at the situation.

It was very possible that Hero was right, that they’d truly never experienced something so natural as pain. When would they have, when even deadly force did nothing but inconvenience them? If a building falling on them couldn’t cause a bruise, what chance did everyday life have of harming them?

Hero had spent years, perhaps their entire lives, flying above the woes of mankind, immune to the pain they fought to protect others from. They’d simply never been hurt. And now their first taste of that so natural of hardships came in the form of a bullet lodged in their side.

For a brief moment Villain envied their usual immunity. For a much longer moment, they pitied Hero for their ignorance.

But they didn’t have time for pity.

“Please!” Hero sobbed, “Please, just leave it! It hurts, it’ll hurt–,”

“Look at me,” With rough hands, Villain grabbed Hero’s chin, silencing their pleas. They forced Hero’s tearful gaze forward. Terrified, shining eyes meeting Villain’s own determined glare.

“Yes, it will hurt. It’s going to hurt like hell, and you’re going to act like the damn hero you claim to be and take it. Do you understand me?” Villain didn’t break their stare for a moment. “I am not letting you die here. Supervillain doesn’t deserve the privilege of ending you. It is going to hurt, and you are going to endure it and save both our asses. Alright?”

For a long moment, Villain thought Hero would continue to fight them. They were still trembling, jaw shaking with muffled sobs, tears dripping onto Villain’s hand. Their whimpers were the only sound in the clearing.

But then something shifted in their eyes. It was not their usual strength or determination, it wasn’t bravery. It was something tearful and weak, but so trusting that it nearly knocked Villain off their feet.

So faintly that Villain almost mistook it for a tremor, Hero nodded. Villain nodded back.

They made quick work of preparing themselves. They turned to grab a handful of their cape, quickly tearing several strips to act as bandages. They scanned the forest floor and, after a moment of searching, found what they were looking for.

They brushed the dirt from a nearby stick, and presented it to Hero.

“Here, bite down on this. You’ll need it.”

Hero didn’t reach to grab the offered gag. Arms still pinned to their torso, Hero opened their mouth, leaning forward only slightly. Not unkindly, Villain placed the wood between their teeth. Hero bit down.

Gently, Villain moved Hero's body to the forest floor, laying them flat to expose their wound. Hero whined, low and pained, but their eyes never left Villain.

Villain returned to their toolbelt. After a moment of digging in their toolbelt, they found what they were looking for. A pair of long, thin tweezers, usually used for handling delicate wires, was held in their fingers. It would have to do.

Villain pulled themselves closer, trapping Hero’s legs with their own so they could sit over them, giving themselves full access to the injury. “Now, I need you to let me see your hands.”

Hesitantly, Hero’s hands moved instead to rest against Villain’s knees. They squeezed, grip tight.

Villain reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Hero’s face.

And then they got to work.

[jeanboyjean]

PUBLIC DECENCY - ft jean kirstein. nsfw.

Jean takes you to watch a new movie that's just come out. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) for you, the movie's boring so you have to find another way to entertain yourself. 

cw: established relationship. actually not public decency. handjob, blowjob. gn! reader.

an: help me i need to suck his dick so bad. that is all. wrote this in one go in what i can only explain as a moment of weakness so if it seems a bit unhinged that's why. another one for my fellow jean fuckers!!

wc: 2.5k words

Lights flashed on the screen in front of you, tense music blaring from the surround sound speakers as you warily watched the movie play out. Your boyfriend, Jean, sat next to you with his head in his hand as he leaned on the armrest, his eyes fixed in front of him. As per his request, the two of you had come to the movie theatre this evening to watch some new action film.

Despite it being past an hour of screen time already, you had no idea what was happening. There were far too many characters and so much going on with not enough context, that you were rapidly starting to lose interest. A fight scene was happening at the moment, for what reason you didn’t know, and you blinked in confusion as a body flew across the screen to hit a car. You jumped in your seat as a loud smash boomed around you. All the commotion was starting to make your head swim, the fast moving frames and sound effects overwhelming your senses. 

The cinema was surprisingly empty for a Friday night and you thought maybe that should have been a warning sign for what awaited you. The two of you were seated in the middle, a few rows from the back, and almost all of the seats around you were empty aside from a few here and there. You looked around yourself, trying to see if you could guage the reactions of the others experiencing the atrocity in front of you but it was impossible to tell from the distance. Jean shifted in his chair next to you, turning to catch your eye with a brow raised in question and you leaned in towards him, looping your arms around his bicep as you tugged him closer. His head dipped down as you spoke softly in his ear.

“What’s going on in the movie right now?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I have no idea.” 

Your eyebrows drew together in a frown as you shifted back to peer at his face in confusion. “What do you mean you have no idea? You’re the one that wanted to watch this.” 

He chuckled softly, an arm coming around to pull you into his side. You happily sank into his embrace. “I’m sorry, I think I made a bad choice. This movie kinda sucks.” A hand rubbed your arm gently up and down. “Should we leave?” 

You shook your head. It was probably at least halfway through anyway, you might as well stay. “It’s fine, let’s just finish it since we’re here.” 

Jean placed a soft kiss on the top of your head before turning back to the screen. You snuggled into him, trying but failing to pay attention to the events in front of you. Your mind quickly started to wander as you sat there, staring blankly at the screen, heaving a deep sigh. Jean's aftershave filled your senses as you breathed in and the familiar scent stirred something in you as a curious thought flitted in your mind.

Almost instinctively, you slid a hand down to Jean’s leg and slowly trailed it up his thigh. His muscles tensed lightly under your touch but he said nothing, continuing to stare straight ahead. Your other hand remained wrapped around his arm as you continued to move upwards, applying a little more pressure before stilling right below his hip. Your fingers grazed his crotch and you swore you could feel just the slightest twitch. You looked up at Jean’s face and smiled in satisfaction when you saw his jaw clench in response. You hummed to yourself in thought. Maybe you would actually have some fun during the rest of this movie. 

With a new sense of purpose, your hand slid in between his legs and you cupped his crotch, giving it a light squeeze. His body jerked in response as he took in a sharp intake of air. His sharp eyes finally met yours and they narrowed at you with a flash of warning. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you winked back in challenge. You swiftly unzipped his pants but before you were able to reach inside, his hand came to grip your wrist, stopping you hastily. 

“We’re in public!” He hissed in warning, eyes darting around at the rows of seats surrounding you. 

You rolled your eyes at him, wriggling your way out of his grasp with a huff. You slipped your hand in his pants and held him over his underwear. His dick was already half hard and you smirked as you reached lower to cup his balls, knowing it would drive him crazy. 

“Shhh… There's barely anyone around us. You can keep watching the movie, I’m bored so I just want to play with something.” 

He made a face at you and put on a show of disapproval while shaking his head, but he was shifting in his seat to get more comfortable and spreading his legs to give you easier access. You let out a low hum as you tilted your head up to place a kiss on the underside of his jaw and his pulse skipped under your lips as his cock twitched in your hand at the same time. You slowly stroked him over his underwear, feeling his dick harden fully in no time.

When your fingers wrapped around him with the cotton material still preventing you from touching his skin, his body tensed and his hips bucked up slightly as if moving on their own accord. A quick glance at his face saw furrowed brows and gritted teeth as he tried to contain himself. You knew how much it was taking a toll on him... Jean claimed to hate it when you teased him, always complaining and urging you to get on with it, fighting with himself whenever he had to let you have control, even though you knew they were also the times he moaned the loudest and came the hardest. 

Deciding you should probably put him out of his misery, your fingers slid under his underwear to finally wrap around his hardened cock and you gave it a tight squeeze. In response, his eyes scrunched shut and a low moan escaped his lips. You smiled in delight and a teasing light glimmered behind your eyes. 

“Quiet, Jean,” you whispered in his ear. “We’re in public.” 

His eyes flicked over to you and he attempted a dark look before his eyelids were fluttering as you removed your hand. He followed the way you brought it to your lips and his eyes widened in surprise when you spat nastily on your palm. You grinned at him before reaching down and gripping his cock again, spreading the slick spit along his length. Immediately, his head fell against the back of his chair and his breath became laboured as his mouth hung open slightly in pleasure. You stroked him like this under his clothing, your hand gliding up and down, his dick twitching whenever your thumb brushed against his sensitive tip. 

Once you could feel his desperation building, you pulled his cock fully out of his underwear and admired the way it glistened in the dark lighting of the cinema, hard and proud. Jean had long since submitted himself to your mercy and just watched you with heavy lidded eyes as you licked your lips in anticipation. You shifted in your seat to face him and bent down over the armrest between you so that your face was level with his member. With one hand gripping him at his base, you licked a wet stripe up his length, feeling the veins and ridges along the hard surface. You ended with your lips wrapped around his tip and you sucked it tight as you swirled around with your tongue. 

He groaned above you, one hand falling to the top of your head and the other gripping the armrest on the other side. He nudged your head down urgently and his hips lifted in an attempt to thrust deeper in your mouth, but you were not about to let him do that just yet. Your mouth left him as you tilted your head up to shoot him a glare. You pushed his hips down firmly and shook your head in warning. Jean’s eyes were clouded with lust as he blinked down at you.

“Please. Your mouth, more, please,” He begged softly. Even in the darkness, you could see the flush on his cheeks, his chest rising and falling heavily as his arousal took over him. 

You relented, only because he had asked so nicely. Your head dipped down again, but this time when your lips enveloped him, they sank down lower until they met where your hand was holding him still at the base of his cock. He filled your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you swallowed around his length. Jean choked back a moan as you began bobbing your head, hollowing your cheeks to suck tight around him. The movie continued to blare around you, masking most of your movements, but the slick sounds of your mouth sliding over him leaked in the quiet moments. Neither of you cared though - Jean had his eyes screwed shut and jaw hanging open in pleasure, and you were lost in the way he felt so hot and heavy on your tongue. 

The position you were in was limiting the amount of reach you had and you released him from your mouth with a pop, before climbing off your chair to get on your knees in front of him to give yourself better access. He sank down lower in his chair as you wriggled in between his legs and pulled his hips toward you. Eagerly, you began stroking him again with your hand as you leaned in to wrap your lips around his balls and tease him with your tongue. He was getting close, you could tell, precum beading from his swollen head and his cock jerking with your touch. 

When you took him in your mouth again, his hands fell to rest on your head as you bobbed up and down, sucking him in earnest. You moved to grip his thighs and relaxed your throat as much as possible as you let your nose hit the hair nestled at the base of his cock. With all of his length inside you, you could barely breathe but you could feel him throbbing in your throat and it made your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

Now that you were in this position, you reached up to place your hand on top of his and pushed down to send him a message. His eyes met yours in a heated gaze and he began to guide your head the way he liked to, choking you with his cock. His jaw was clenched tight and his eyes fixated on the way you swallowed around him, your eyes filling with tears that threatened to overflow. When he was near his peak, his heels dug into the ground and he held your head in place as he lifted his hips up to thrust into you. You gagged when his cock hit the back of your throat hard, but you continued to suck him tight, breathing through your nose as your eyes watered. He fucked into your mouth desperately and your fingers gripped his thighs tight, your nails digging into his skin through his pants.

“Fuckkkk,” he groaned under his breath. “I love you so much. You’re so good to me.” 

You blinked up at him with heavy lids and he thrust into your mouth one more time before stuttering to a stop. He came hard, his hips twitching while he held you in place and spilled down your throat. You stayed where you were as he pulsed into you, until his hands relaxed on your head and his body slumped back in his seat as all the tension left his body and he let the high wash over him. You swallowed as you released him from your mouth, making sure to suck him clean before wiping your lips and tucking him back into his clothes. 

As you zipped his pants back up, his hands hooked under your arms and you giggled as he lifted you to sit across his lap. His arms wrapped around your body and you cupped his cheeks, meeting his lips in a gentle kiss. He moved his lips slowly against yours and warmth blossomed in your chest at the tender way he held you. When you pulled away to catch your breath, he knocked his forehead against yours softly and looked at you with a small smile. 

“Why haven’t we done this before?” He asked, his eyes twinkling despite the low light.

“Because you’re always too scared we’ll get caught.” 

At your words, his eyes widened and he looked around frantically as if only just remembering that you were still technically in public. He let out a sigh of relief when he realised that no one seemed to be paying any attention. 

“Damn, I almost forgot. I guess you’re just that good.” 

You laughed as you dipped forward and kissed him again. He pulled you into him as he licked into your mouth and ran a hand up your thigh. Heat began building within you and you buried your hands into his hair, moaning softly into his mouth as you throbbed between your legs. You only stopped when you felt a tap on your shoulder, your eyes flying open as you pulled away from Jean and turned to look behind you. A man stood crouched next to you, shaking his head with a disgusted look. Jean’s hands moved to steady you as you scrambled to sit up straight, trying to look like you weren’t two seconds away from letting him fuck you in public. 

“You can’t do that here,” The man hissed in a low voice, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“Sorry!” You squeaked, your cheeks warming in embarrassment. “We weren’t doing anything.” 

He continued to shake his head, rolling his eyes with a sigh. “Okay sure. That’s why you’re sitting in his lap.” 

Jean’s chest rumbled as he snickered behind you. You smacked his shoulder lightly in an attempt to quiet him but he just laughed as he raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“Sorry, sorry. It’s fine, we’ll go,” He said in between his chortling.

The man nodded as he watched you hurriedly move to leave, trying not to trip over your feet in the darkness as you exited your row. The two of you ducked your heads low as you scurried out of the cinema - you in self consciousness hoping no one was watching you, while Jean continued to choke back laughter. When you emerged into the bright corridor, you heaved a sigh of relief, slumping against the wall. Jean snickered as he slung an arm around your shoulder and you poked him in the side of his waist. 

“Why are you laughing? We got caught!” 

Jean wiped at his eyes as he held his side. “You should have seen your face! Now I know what people mean when they say deer in headlights. I can’t believe he called you out for sitting in my lap.” 

You pouted at him. “Whatever. Don’t pretend you weren’t shitting yourself too.” 

“Nah, I was too busy feeling pleased with myself." He pulled you along with his arm as he began walking to the exit. "Come on, let’s go home. There’s something I need to finish.”

He smirked at you, even giving you a cheeky wink to seal the deal. Despite it all, your thighs clenched as blood rushed between your legs. The memory of what you had just done flashed in your mind and you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. Honestly, you didn’t know if you would even be able to wait until you got home. 

thx for reading!! as always, comments/reblogs are appreciated if u like this ♡♡♡

[noforkingclue]

Hey, I'm not sure if you have done this kinda idea before but I will still sent it to you anyway if you have already done it please feel free to ignore. Could I please request a Billy Butcher x supe!reader where he and the reader are in a car chase trying to escape the bad guys but they aren't losing them so the reader has to remove a power inhibitor which they wear and use their powers to escape the bad guys and then once they are safe talk with Billy about why they hid their powers from him and prehaps the reader could be a threat to a certain person who only knows the reader by their powers but not appearance.

I really hope you're doing well at work and I hope you enjoy the rest of your week.

Oooh yay! It's been fucking ages since I've written anything for The Boys. Can't wait for series 4 later this year. Maybe I need to start a rewatch soon...

Anyway, hope you like the fic :)

Title: Please, Listen

The Boys tag list: @captainofmybigwetdream, @scraftshu35, @zannemees, @holy-minseok

Billy Butcher tag list: @mrdcks-spaghetti

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said as you looked behind you, “we’re not fucking loosing them.”

“I fucking know that,” snapped Butcher, “what do you think- fuck!”

Butcher was interrupted by a shower of bullets against the car. You winced as you felt the glass cut you and looked carefully behind you. You bit your lip and you glanced at your wrist. You really really didn’t want to take it off but you were seeing no other opportunity. The Vought cars were gaining on you and things were, for once, looking bleak.

“Billy.”

Butcher briefly glanced over at you. You using his first name was usually enough but it was the tone of your voice which really caught his attention.

“What? Bit busy here incase you can’t fucking see.”

“I’m sorry.”

You pulled off the power inhibitor. You flexed your fingers before taking a deep breath and casting a portal. Butcher let out a string of swear words as the two of you crashed through the portal. You immediately got out of the car and clicked your fingers just as another car was halfway through it. You looked away as the Vought agents were swiftly cut in half. Finally you took a deep breath and glanced over at Butcher. He was gripping the wheel tightly, eyes fixed ahead.

“What the fuck?”

You glanced over as MM came marching over. Frenchie and Hughie were hanging back a bit but you could see the curiosity in their eyes.

“I can-” you started

“She’s a fucking supe.”

You winced at the tone in Butcher’s voice as he slammed the car door shut. You glanced at the ground as he walked over to you.

“What?” asked MM

“Y/n is a… supe?” asked Hughie and you could hear the disbelief in his voice

“Look,” you tried to keep the desperation out of your voice but knew you were failing, “I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a fucking choice.” spat Butcher

“I didn’t ask to be born like this,” you snapped, “You think I wanted to have fucking powers? Why do you think I created this?”

You held up the power inhibitor and slapped it back on your wrist. You let out a grunt of pain and rolled back your shoulders.

“Still prototype,” you said, “but it seems like it does the trick. Fucking hurts though.”

“Good.”

You blinked at the bitterness in Butcher’s voice. He marched over to you and jabbed you in the chest. You took a couple of steps back when you saw the venom in his eyes. You had seen that look before but it had never been directed at you. You knew it was going to be difficult when he found out the truth but, maybe slightly naively, you thought things might be a bit different. After all, how many times had you saved his life?

“I want you to fuck off,” he said, “and if I ever see you again I’ll put a bullet in your supe cunt head.”

“And this was why I didn’t fucking tell you,” you snapped, “because you’d push me away.”

“If I had known you were a supe to begin with I’d never allow you to be part of this. So fuck off.”

You looked desperately at Butcher’s retreating figure. You wanted to go after him and beg him to listen to you but you knew it was pointless. You glanced at your other friends and MM folded his arms.

“So,” you said, “where do you want me to begin.”

“At the fucking beginning,” MM said, “and then we’ll where we go from there.”

[tswaney17]

I Do Bad Things with You - Part 44

This part fought me at every corner, but I said screw it. Let's post and move on. 😅 It's crazy to think there are only 5 more parts left and an epilogue. The end of an era is arriving soon. I'm excited though, to have this one finished because I've got a lot of other goodies in the works right now. Stay tuned!

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 5,852

It had been a month since the car accident and their family found out about the pregnancy. The first week after the wreck had been rough, always worrying over whether she would eventually start bleeding as a late-term consequence of the crash. Azriel, her blessed husband, was doing everything in his power to keep her calm.

But she didn’t. Not a speck of blood.

Elain thanked every god for the safety of her babies knowing she wouldn’t have survived losing them.  

She and Az hadn’t discussed any further on his retaliation tactics, hoping that he would drop the whole issue. Escalating right now when they were about halfway through her pregnancy didn’t seem like the best idea.

Elain did trust Azriel’s decisions, even if she didn’t necessarily agree with them.

A sigh escaped her lips and she rubbed her palm over her more prominent belly. She was beginning to round out now, rather than just looking like an oversized, carb-based pudge. Her scrubs were starting to get tight and it was only a matter of time before she had to invest in a larger size. At least in the top. The bottoms still had some stretch available.

“Doctor Archeron,” her boss called and she whirled around to face him. “We have an incoming pediatric patient who needs a surgical consult. Are you up to being my second?”

Pediatric surgeries didn’t come often, so when they did, he always made sure she had the opportunity to assist—especially since she was the Attending and would be taking these cases on with the team of residents here soon.

She was already moving to his side. “I’m in.” With her nausea and dizzy spells, Elain had to cut back on some of her surgical procedures, unable to give her best results to the patient. She was sure it was the combination of the stress and the constant standing that always had her head feeling woozy. So, she took what she could, and then made rounds for surgical consults in the pit. Having built a strong bond with the residents, they were always eager and willing to grab her a snack or craving when she needed it, even when she profusely told them they did not need to do so. But Elain had to admit, it was nice when they did, and she made sure to reward them with her knowledge and expertise when handling difficult cases.

They slid open the glass door where the young patient was held and she stopped in her tracks. The little boy couldn’t have been more than four years old, with dark hair that brushed over the tops of his ears, and golden-brown skin. His eyes flashed when they entered revealing a green and golden gaze.

Elain recognized his heritage immediately.

He was Illyrian. Like Azriel.

She also read the fear plastered on his face, in his movements as he cradled his broken arm to his chest. Large tears littered along his lower lash line; something inside of her cracked at that desperate look.

“Hello, Kaden,” Thesan said in a kind voice, lowering the iPad to his side and looking directly at the boy. “We’re going to help take care of that arm for you.” He took a step forward and Kaden flinched, crying out softly as the movement tugged on his injury.

Her boss stopped his approach; a level of uncertainty crept into his gaze as he glanced at her for assistance.

Elain cleared her throat, capturing the boy’s attention. She moved the rolling stool closer to his bedside and slowly sat down on it, making sure he watched her every move. “Hi, Kaden,” she spoke in a soft voice. “My name is Elain.” She shuffled slightly closer, relieved when he didn’t balk at her approach. In fact, it almost seemed like his eyes flicked down to her swollen stomach before returning to her face. “I see that your arm is hurt. Would you mind if I took a closer look?” Elain held out her hand, letting it lie on his bed palm up in a calm, welcoming gesture.

When he hesitated, she added, “You’re safe here, sweetheart. We won’t hurt you.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, but something in her gut told her that it wasn’t just strangers he was afraid of. It was people altogether. And that concerned her, more so than just from a physician’s standpoint.

Finally, he moved his arm over to her, those tears falling down his cheeks as he whimpered in pain.

“I know, baby. I know. You’re doing so well,” she cooed, gently examining the injury between her fingers. From the disfiguration, it was obvious that it was a transverse complete fracture, the radius and the ulna having stacked on top of each other, and somehow not penetrating through his skin.

Elain sat wondering how the hell this child had such a severe injury, and it was then she noticed the scar on his other arm from a different, extensive wound. She frowned, glancing up at Thesan through her lashes. “Without a proper x-ray, I can’t be definitive on how extensive the damage is, but I’m certain he’ll need this surgically repaired.

The other doctor crossed his arms.

Kaden flinched.

Her mouth parted. Because that wasn’t just a flinch of fear. It was a flinch of abuse. Elain had no doubt in her mind about his home life. A lump swelled in her throat at the thought of it, and she watched as Thesan slowly lowered his arms to appear less intimidating toward the young boy.

Without thinking, she reached up to trace the pads of her fingers across his temple, sweeping his hair back before brushing away the tears that still stained his cheeks. Elain released a breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding when he didn’t shy away from her touch. “I’m going to put your arm in a brace to hold it still until we can fix it, okay?”

He didn’t speak, didn’t even shake his head to indicate that he understood her, but he watched her, those green and gold-speckled eyes wary, but curious too.

She slid the stool back, reached into one of the drawers on the moveable cabinet, and grabbed what she needed. Getting him into the brace was a whole thing on its own. He cried and screamed as she tried to be as gentle as she could, and every sound he made felt like a knife in her chest. “I know, sweetie. I know. But this will help, I promise,” she murmured, trying to calm him.

His pain broke her heart. Shattered it into a million pieces. Because no child deserves to suffer like that.

Once she finally got him strapped in, Elain released his arm but didn’t step back. No, she couldn’t leave him in this state. Instead, she brushed more tears away with her thumb, cupping his cheek in comfort. It was completely out of line in that patient-doctor relationship, but frankly, she didn’t give a damn. Elain wouldn’t leave him like this—refused to. So, she gave him the gentleness of her touch, the security she knew he didn’t receive from his parents, wherever the fuck they might be.

“Elain,” Thesan said, catching her gaze. “Can we speak in the hall?”

She nodded, swiping her thumb over his cheek one last time. “We’ll be back, Kaden,” she murmured, resisting the urge to kiss the top of his head. Those damn hormones were really getting to her.

He slid the door shut behind them, turning to face her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She knew he didn’t mean her actions. “The severity of his fracture looks like it came from a large fall. Maybe down a staircase. Did you notice the scar on his other arm?”

“I did,” Thesan told her, eyes going hard. It wasn’t a look she saw on him often, but child abuse cases were always difficult. “It looked like something that required stitching but didn’t receive it. It’s too harsh to have been healed properly.”

She grunted in agreement. “I don’t think we’ll be able to get an x-ray from him. Not when he’s this terrified. I know he needs surgery without it, but maybe we can grab an x-ray after we put him under?” Her boss nodded his head in a way that said he was on the same wavelength as her. “Where are his parents? How did he get brought in here?”

“I’m about to go find out from Viviane. Hopefully she or one of the other nurses can give us more detail.”

“I’ll reach out to social services and see if I can get our social worker from child protective services down here quickly. I suspect child abuse and we’re going to need somebody to sign off on his surgery,” Elain said, already pulling her phone from the front of her scrubs.

He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “You did good in there, Elain. He wouldn’t have let me get near him, but you connected with him.” He paused, eyes flicking between hers. “It was that maternal instinct coming out. I could see it in how you handled him—comforted him. Excellent work.”

She couldn’t stop the blush from rising to her cheeks. “Thank you, Thesan.”

Gripping her once more, he strode away, heading for the nurses’ station to speak with them about their patient.

Elain glanced back over her shoulder at the child in the room behind her, his body curled up on his side as best as he could with his arm braced. His little hand fisted the sheets, eyes having drifted close. Her heart hammered in her chest. What else could he have been through that they didn’t know? Scrolling through the phone, she tapped on the name of their CPS contact.

It rang twice before she picked up. “Hey,” Elain said quietly. “I need you at the hospital. Now.”

A pause before she said. “Give me fifteen minutes,” and hung up.

She stared through that glass door, lips pulling down into a sad frown. Something drew her toward him, and Elain was determined to figure out why.

~~~

Elain was waiting for the CPS worker at the front of the nurses’ station. She and Thesan had a quick convo where he informed her of everything they knew about their patient, which turned out, wasn’t a whole lot. He had been sent over from the hospital in Illyria, not having a pediatric surgeon on hand to help him. Technically, she and Thesan also weren’t pediatric surgeons, but they’d been trained in those patients to be able to provide him the care he needed.

Her attention snagged on the tall woman walking into the building, her pace quick and determined.

Elain met her halfway. “Emerie,” she murmured, shaking her hand. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

“You sounded urgent on the phone.”

They strode through the hospital to the elevators. “It is. My patient’s name is Kaden. He has a transverse complete fracture that requires surgery.”

Emerie flicked her thick, dark plait of hair over her shoulder. “Parents won’t sign off on it?”

“Parents aren’t here,” Elain said, pressing the button for floor three to take them to the pediatrics department. “His neighbor called it in when she got home from the grocery store. Told the EMTs that she heard his screams and just called for help.”

“How old is he?”

The doors slid open and they stepped out of the elevator. “Just over four.” She directed them toward his door. “There’s something else,” she started, looking over at the boy in question. “He won’t speak and seems very intimidated by people. Fearful of them. I suspect he’s a victim of child abuse. I was barely able to get the brace on him, so we haven’t attempted an x-ray yet.”

Emerie pursed her lips in contemplation. “What’s your plan?”

“We want to do the x-ray while he’s under. It’s obvious he will need his facture repaired surgically, but we won’t get a clear picture of the damage until we get him prepped.”

She nodded. “I can get on board with that after I try and talk with him of course.” Emerie looked in at the child lying on the bed. “You said he’s just over four?” she asked.

“Yes. His chart shows his birthday was a few months ago.”

Those dark eyes found hers. “He looks awfully small for a four-year-old.”

Elain’s heart ached in her chest. “Yes, we were thinking he appeared a bit malnourished.”

“Do me a favor. When you get him in for x-rays, get some of his body. I want to see if any previous injuries can sanction the abuse.”

Elain’s chin dipped in confirmation as she grabbed the handle of the door and slid it open. “Hello, Kaden,” she said, voice softening. “I’ve brought a friend who wants to talk with you.”

His head turned to look over at them, eyes going straight to Emerie. He shuffled on the bed, curling into himself.

She shared a glance with Elain before moving forward, cautiously. “Hello, Kaden. My name is Emerie. I’m here to help you.”

He blinked at her, not unfurling from his fetal-like position.

Emerie frowned, returning her attention to her. “Do you think he might be deaf?”

Elain’s brows shot into her hairline. She hadn’t thought that at all. “He seems like he can hear us, but let me see,” she said, turning to sign can you hear me at the little boy.

No response.

She shook her head. “I don’t think he’s deaf. Just mute.”

The social worker’s mouth turned down further. “I’ll sign off on the surgery. I can see the injury from here. Has anyone tried to contact his parents?”

“There’s a number for a father, but it’s been disconnected. I can give you his file to see if there’s anything you can pull from it.” Emerie gripped her arm in thanks, moving to sit down on the rolling stool that she sat upon earlier. “I’m going to call up to the OR to get a room prepped. A nurse will be in with the forms to sign in a bit.”

She gave Kaden a small smile, hoping it would bring one to his face, but he just stared at her, little hands fisting the bedsheets. Elain felt an undeniable pull toward the child. A deep-seated need to help him—care for him. She just needed to figure out how.

~~~

Four remodeled fractures.

Elain sat in the chair next to Kaden’s bed as she looked through the X-rays they took of him. She pulled out four, severe remodeled fractures—now five with the one they just repaired. How the fuck did a child of four have five fractures in his lifetime already?

Anger, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before burned inside of her like a volcano readying to erupt. It was obvious that this boy had experienced such tremendous pain and horrors in his young life. She couldn’t help but compare him to her husband, born into cruelty. Abused and neglected. Left to fend for himself.

It left a dangerous spot in her heart. One where she wasn’t sure if she could untangle him from.

The door slid open and Emerie popped in, her dark eyes glancing toward the sleeping child. “How’d it go?” she whispered. Getting him under had taken some work. The anesthesiologist ordered him to be held down so he could put the mask on his crying face when she entered.

“Do not hold him down,” Elain had growled, storming into the operating room after having scrubbed down. The surgical nurses seemed to back up at the look on her face. Even the two residents assigned to the surgery hesitated. She’d moved to his side, fingers stroking his soft cheek. “Hi, sweet boy,” she murmured, voice softening. “I’m going to fix your arm now, but you need to go to sleep first. You don’t want to be awake for this.” Her thumb made a gentle caress back and forth on his face. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

She made quick work wiping his tears away, humming under her breath a simple lullaby. Elain waited until he was calm, silver-lined eyes drying as his eyelids slowly lowered without her even using the gas on him. She knew he was likely exhausted, having gone hours without much sleep. The constant crying would’ve drained him too. So, only when he finally shut his eyes, did she take the mask from the anesthesiologist and place it over his face.

The door clicking shut behind Emerie pulled her from her memory. “Getting him under was rough, but I managed to get it done.” She held out the X-rays for her. “He’s had four other fractures that I found. Two hairline ones on his third and fourth ribs, one to his left femur, and one…” her words trailed off, unable to spit out the location of that last injury.

Emerie took a seat on the stool, facing her. “Where was the last one, Elain?”

She took a ragged breath. “On the back of his skull.”

“Any ideas on how he got it?”

Elain sat back in the chair she’d brought in. “Looks like he might’ve collided with something. Probably pushed backward and fell into a table or something similar.”

“They were set properly, though?”

She nodded. “Yes, the last one looks to be about a year old now. The others are about two.” Elain frowned. “The first four were cared for, but this time he was left alone to deal with it. What changed?” she wondered more to herself than anything, but it appeared the social worker had the answer.

Emerie handed her another file. “His mother died. It wasn’t in his medical report, but I had some people do a little digging and found the name of his birth parents. Lorenzo and Anastasia Salazar.” Her lips turned down in the corner. “Reviewing everything you’ve given me and the reports I’ve pulled, I’d theorize the abuse came from the father and when he left, the mother took him to seek medical attention off books.”

“Off books?” Elain asked, brows furrowing.

“There’s nothing in his medical history about the abuse. No flags have ever been attached to his profile in the system. So, either they paid off whatever doctor they used, or they had somebody private doing at-home calls.”

Like Azriel’s personal medical team…She was careful to keep her face neutral, but Elain had a feeling that Lorenzo was a part of some gang, if not the Illyrian Mob itself. Sighing, she looked back at the sleeping boy, her heart racing in her chest.

“Should I be looking into other options for him aside from foster care?” Emerie asked carefully, eyes flicking down to her pregnant stomach and then back up.

Elain’s dark gaze met hers. “I don’t know,” she said earnestly.

The social worker seemed to understand. “Tell you what. I’ll prepare both options for you and then you can decide what you want to do after you talk to your husband.”

Something inside her chest unlocked at her words.

A groggy sigh caught their attention and they twisted to see Kaden’s eyes fluttering open. His small whimper had Elain moving, sitting on the edge of his bed to run her fingers through his dark hair.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured.

He looked at her with large, hazel, and green eyes before curling into her side, cuddling close to her.

It took all of Elain’s willpower to not sob in elation that he felt comfortable with her now. How long had he gone without love or affection that he would cling to a near stranger who showed him any sort of warmth?

Emerie smiled, rising from her chair. “I’m going to go start handling some paperwork. Call me if you need anything in the meantime or if anything changes.”

She waved her off, resituating herself on his bed as she gave herself a few more seconds of snuggling this precious boy.

~~~~~

Azriel knew something was bothering Elain the moment she stepped through the elevator door. He could read it on her face, in the half-assed smile she shot him. In the way she picked at the food on her dinner plate.

It frustrated him that when he asked her about work, knowing something was wrong, she lied to his face and said it was fine. It wasn’t fine. Nothing about the way his wife was acting was fine. He just wished she would tell him what it was.

“You need to eat, El,” he tried, keeping his voice soft.

She pushed her plate back. “I’m not hungry.”

He tried not to get irritated—he knew Elain was carrying a lot on her plate with her job and the pregnancy. But he was done with her not being honest with him. Azriel sighed, setting his utensils down on his plate with a clank. “All right. I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

Her dark eyes glanced at him, before returning to stare at her meal. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit, Elain. I can tell something is wrong without you even having to say it. It’s written as clear as day on your face. I am your husband. You’re supposed to confide in me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s the matter.”

Az expected her to relent. To sigh, eyes rolling to the sky and finally tell him everything. What he didn’t expect was for her to burst into tears.

Her face fell into the cradle of her palms as a heart-wrenching sob tore from her throat.

For a moment, he froze, blind-sighted by the sudden emotion. And then the panic swept in. He was out of his seat a second later, moving around the edge of the table to pull her chair back and kneeling in front of her seat. “Hey,” he murmured, rubbing his hands on her thighs. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He kissed her kneecap, squeezing her legs gently to show her he was there for her.

Elain sniffed, running the back of her hand under her nose. “You didn’t upset me.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Then what did, love?”

She let out a shaky breath, hands falling into her lap. He took one in his, gripping it tightly. “I had a patient today with a fractured arm that we had to surgically repair. He was only four, and was brought in alone—no father and the mother died last year.” Elain sniffed again. “I found four other remodeled fractures on him from over the last two years. One of them was on the back of his skull.”

Azriel had a feeling about where this was leading. “Abuse?” he asked, voice carefully soft.

Elain nodded. “It would appear so.” She wet her lips, finally meeting his gaze. “Az, he looks like you. He could be your son.”

His eyes widened, unsure of where she was going but he had a hunch.

“I picked out his Illyrian heritage easily enough, but his circumstances, the way he’s been brutalized…they all remind me of you. Of your past.”

He couldn’t argue with her. Just hearing about the pain that had been inflicted on him reminded Az of his childhood. In how his father and half-brothers tortured him. It took an effort to not glance down at his scarred hands, a physical reminder of the trauma he’d endured. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“I’ve been in touch with Child Protective Services and he will likely go into the foster care system. But, looking at what’s been done to him, in the fact that he refuses to talk, and is terrified of adults, I’m concerned he won’t even be considered for adoption…” She let the words hang there, hoping he’d pick up on the unspoken ones she hadn’t yet said out loud but was hinting toward.

Az cocked his head to the side. “You want to adopt him.” It wasn’t a question—it didn’t need to be one. He could see Elain’s every desire as if it were written on her forehead. She had fallen in love with that child.

She dipped her head in confirmation, lower lip trapped between her teeth.

He squeezed her fingers again, thinking over his next few questions. “Love, I need to ask you something, and I want you to promise me you won’t get upset with me for it. Because I think this question needs to be asked.”

Her tongue darted along her lip, but she nodded for him to continue.

“Could the desire to adopt him have anything to do with your pregnancy? I know you have a lot of hormones running through you right now, and your maternal side is going to be very potent. This isn’t just because of that, right? You truly want him?”

Elain was already shaking her head. “No, it’s not that. He was brought to me for a reason, Az. I can feel it in my gut.” Her small hand cradled her stomach in emphasis.

He kissed her knuckles. “And it’s not because he reminds you of me?” He needed to hear her say it. That she wasn’t trying to save this child because of the similarities, but because she truly wanted to take on another kid.

“I’ve never been one for higher powers, but there’s something about Kaden that has completely unraveled me. He fears people but he trusts me. I know, deep in my heart, he was brought to my hospital because I could give him the life he deserves. That we could offer him something better and love him so fully, he’ll never remember a time where he suffered.” Elain wiped the tear from under her lashes. “He is supposed to be our son, Az. I just know it down to my bones.”

It was a lot to consider. She was halfway through her pregnancy with twins and adopting a third child right now would be insane. But he knew they could do it—that they had the means and the love to give to three children. People might call them mad, but looking at her, he had never seen such determination in her eyes and he could feel it buzzing under his skin. “All right,” he said, squeezing her hand again. “I’ll come to the hospital tomorrow afternoon to meet him.”

Elain’s brown eyes brightened like rays of sunshine. “Really? You mean that?”

“If he’s important to you, then he’s important to me, love. That’s the only thing that matters.” And he meant it too. Azriel would lay the stars at her feet if she asked for them.

More tears ran down her cheeks as she slid off her chair and threw her arms around his neck. He held her close, one hand cupping the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, and the other running lines up and down her spine.

“Thank you, Az,” she cried, dampening the skin of his throat.

He hushed her sobs, pulling back to hold her cheeks in his palms. “I love you, Elain. All of you. And I would give you anything your heart desires.” His words had her crying in earnest, enough so that it took him a while to calm her down.

Thoroughly exhausted, Azriel carried his pregnant wife up the stairs and put her to bed; a hum of excitement stirring in his chest at what was to come.

~~~

Azriel pulled into a parking spot outside of the hospital at exactly three o’clock. His heart was racing in his chest like he’d just run a marathon, his gut swirling with anxiety. Elain had told him that the boy—Kaden, he reminded himself—was fearful of adults. In particular, males.

What if he didn’t like him? If he was scared of him? The questions had been daunting him all day and if he was being honest with himself, he was worried. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to form a connection with this child. That he’d only bond with Elain and would resent Az’s presence.

It was fucking irrational, he knew that. But still, the thoughts invaded his mind and refused to let go.

He pulled out his phone and checked the messages from Elain.

Third floor, children’s ICU.

He’s been exceptionally clingy to me today.

Az smiled down at his phone at the second message, picturing the little boy snuggled into his wife’s side when she visited him. Which, was every chance she got.

Taking a deep breath, he climbed out of the vehicle and headed to the front entrance.

The Moonbeam twins had taken up residence in the lobby and spotted him immediately, rising from their seats to greet him.

“Mr. Knight,” Fenrys spoke. “Is everything all right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder into the emergency room concerned.

“Everything is fine. I’m just meeting Elain for an appointment.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. They had decided to forgo telling anyone about the potential adoption until much further into the process, not wanting anyone to try and talk them out of it.

“Of course,” Connall said, stepping aside. “We won’t keep you waiting.”

He offered them a quirk of his lips before heading for the elevator, but he stopped on his way, spying the hospital gift shop. In particular, the stuffed teddy bear in the window. With a glance over his shoulders to make sure nobody had spotted him, he turned into the shop and plucked the bear out of the window display, taking it to the cashier.

A few minutes later, he was riding up to floor three, the soft, plush toy in his grip. Az tugged on the knot of his tie, loosening it around his neck. His hazel eyes spotted Elain across the floor, sitting on the edge of a bed. Her mouth was moving, but she was behind a closed door so he couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Like a moth to a flame, he moved toward her, his heart hammering in his chest as he approached the glass slider and knocked.

Elain’s head snapped up, the most radiant smile pulling on her lips as she beckoned him in with a wave of her hand. Fuck, she was so gorgeous. Even made more radiant by the pregnancy as she entered into the second-trimester glow.

Azriel slid the door open, catching the end of her sentence.

“—someone I’d like for you to meet.”

Her fingers threaded through a dark mop of hair, and he finally let his eyes roam over the small child clinging to her waist.

“Kaden, this is my husband, Azriel. Azriel,” she said, gaze flicking to his with a soft smile. “This is Kaden.”

He looked at the young boy, meeting his stare and offering him a calming smile. “Hello, Kaden. It’s nice to meet you.”

Not a sound. Nothing from him other than turning to bury his face further into Elain’s side.

His heart broke, but Azriel was nothing if not determined, placing the teddy bear on the bed against the railing.

Elain grinned at him, thumb rubbing over Kaden’s cheek. “Did you see what Azriel brought you?” she murmured.

A green eye, flecked with gold peeked out from Elain’s waist, glancing at the plush toy but he didn’t reach for it.

Az sat down on the rolling stool, sliding over to the opposite side of the bed as his wife.

“We were just reading a story,” she announced, handing him the book. “How about Azriel finishes for me?” she murmured, brushing Kaden’s dark hair away from his face. “How does that sound?”

He thumbed open the book, going to the page she indicated they left off on. Clearing his throat, he began to read, using the inflections of his voice to aid him in his efforts to make it engaging. Kaden didn’t move away from his wife the entire time he spoke, but he did eventually turn his head to watch him.

Azriel took in the child in his peripheral, seeing the resemblance of himself. He could see why she had claimed he could’ve been his son. Bearing nearly his identical coloring and many similar markers of his Illyrian heritage, Kaden could easily be mistaken as his biological child.

And yet, it was obvious that Kaden was terrified of him.

He sat there for an hour, reading with him, trying to converse with him, and nothing. Azriel felt like a failure. Rising from his seat, he bid the boy farewell, shooting his wife a sad smile.

“I’ll walk you out,” she told them, ruffling Kaden’s hair before following him out of the room.

“He hates me,” he groaned, stopping in his tracks and scrubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes.

Elain moved to stand in front of him. “He does not hate you, Azriel. He’s just intimidated by you—”

“How is that better?”

She ran a hand up his bicep to grip him around the back of his neck. “You can make yourself less intimidating, Az. You in a suit is a force to be reckoned with, and frankly, I have a feeling his father wore similar attire.”

His brows furrowed. “What makes you say that?”

Her thumb traced over his jaw. “The woman who found him refused to give the paramedics her name. They said she looked terrified to even be talking to them. He’s Illyrian, Az…” her voice trailed off, leading him to the answer.

“You think his father is in the Illyrian Mob.” Not a question but a statement of fact.

“Lorenzo Salazar,” Elain confirmed.

The name didn’t immediately register anything in his brain, but he had something to go off of now. Azriel would look into him, find every single detail about the man’s life, and then decide if he deserved to die for the pain and suffering he put his son through.

“Come back tomorrow in jeans and a plain shirt and I’m sure it will help,” Elain told him, bringing his attention back to her face. Her eyes glanced over his shoulder to the boy in the room, a smile tugging on her lips. “Az,” she whispered, nodding toward the room behind them.

Something warm flared in his chest as he turned, and saw Kaden clutching the teddy bear he brought tightly to his body.

Elain stepped up to his side. “If he was afraid of you, Azriel, he would not be touching that toy. You connected with him, even if you can’t physically see it, but you did.”

A sense of awe washed over him, followed by an overwhelming urge to love and protect that boy. He wasn’t sure how long they stood staring at his sleeping form until he breathed, “I want him, El…I want him to be a part of our family.”

Her soft hand slipped into his, fingers lacing. “So, let’s bring him home.”

With joy and love, they stood watching the boy who would one day soon become their son.

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved most of my fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Taglist: 

@nikethestatue

@reverie-tales

@123moiaussi

@duskwhisperer

@zdenkah

@nyxreads

@shedoessoshedoes

@athena-85

@jasmineandshadows

@nightcourtseer

@nivem565

@debramclaren

@illyrianvalkyriecarynthian

@secretpuppyflower

@justreallybored

@ultadverb

@the-regal-warrior

@roseandshadows

@tcursebreaker

@kingravinger

@mis-lil-red

@eloeloeheheh

@fawnandshadows

@swankii-art-teacher

@miss-bee-cat

@bookhhrelaz

@impossiblescissorspeachpaper

@elrielbaby

@lesolehabitantdelalune

@thoughtsaboutshows

@britishwings

@aelin21galathynius

@saz-griffin

@azrielslight

@bookstaninthesoul

@curiositywoman

@karsyn-b2

@elainsweetcobalt

@emilyondemand

Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!

[moonlit-imagines]

What About Now?

Cal Kestis x reader

warnings:

a/n: i was listening this at work to get ideas while i did the most boring job ever and i immediately got this idea and couldn’t stop thinking abt it omg. also hi erica!!!!

prompt: @sweetjedi: “Hello awesome human! 🙂Congratulations on your follower celebration!!! I hope it is kind to you. May I request, for the celebration: Song: What About Now - Daughtry Character: Cal Kestis Fandom: Star Wars Relationship: Romantic Thank you thank you! 💖 I hope you have a calm day.”

“I worry for you, Cal.” Jaro Tapal speaks as the young boy watches the pair, Master and Padawan, walk away from them, Cal’s expression turning more disappointed with each dwindling step. “I understand that it’s natural to feel strong emotions towards people close to you, but you must remember the rules of the Jedi Order.”

“‘No emotional attachment.’” The Padawan recited, sighing to himself and looking away from you and your master. “I understand the Jedi Code, but what if I can’t help it?”

“You will learn.” Master Tapal warned before turning the opposite way and leading his Padawan elsewhere.

Years had gone by, you had left that life behind. They left you no choice. You had a new name, a new look, a new purpose. Anything to separate you from the Order. Anything to keep yourself alive.

And everything was going fine. You found yourself living on a halfway-decent planet—one you believed to be your birth planet, actually. Your calling was no longer a protector of the galaxy, it was bartending. There was a certain charisma you had that attracted people to you, you made good money and lived your quiet little life. Until a familiar face walked through your doors. “We’re closed, come back in an hour.” You told them without looking back.

“Can you make an exception?” The man asked, which made you roll your eyes involuntarily as you turned around, only to freeze at the sight of a ghost of your past. “You look different.”

“You look the same.” You slapped your rag across your hand a few times, thinking of what to say next. “Taller.” There was an awkward silence as you and Cal stared at each other. You hadn’t seen anyone from your past in damn near eight years. “How’d you find me? We’re you looking?”

“Kind of.” Cal shrugged and stepped closer. “I didn’t know it was you when we got the lead, but…I’m glad it was.” You didn’t like the feeling you got when he said that.

“You’re here for something. What is it?” You were still apprehensive, in these times you had to be. You trusted Cal, he had a heart that you felt couldn’t be corrupted. But your motives may no longer align. The Force, the Order, the greater good of the galaxy. Those were all behind you, but it didn’t seem to be for him.

“Help.” He said, and your shoulders immediately dropped. The request exhausted you. “No, I know. It’s stupid, but of all the Jedi in the galaxy…I was lead to you. That can’t be a coincidence.” You stared at him, pokerfaced while he nervously tried to give you this convincing speech, but all you saw was that Padawan just as nervous to say “hi” as you walked past each other in the halls of the Jedi Temple. He took a seat as you poured him some water. “You seem like you have a comfortable life here, quiet.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. I haven’t had to worry about the Order or Empire in years.” You set the glass in front of him and sat down in the chair across. “Whatever you’re doing, Cal, I know your heart is in the right place, but I left that part of my life behind. I had to.”

“We had to. I’m right with you, y/n. I was doing just fine, a scrapper out on Bracca. I didn’t have any hope left in me, and I stood by and watched as the Empire abused innocent people around me.” Cal took a gamble and reached for your hand. “I was tired of fighting, I didn’t want to lose again. But a former Jedi Master found me, she inspired me to find my own path. We’ve already done so much to help, it’s just that we’re not enough.” You closed your eyes and gripped his hand back, missing the comfort of the past.

On one hand, you built your life here. You felt comfortable. You had a job, a home, and…you were lonely. You had no one, no companionship as a precaution because no one could know your secret and no one could be put in danger because of it. Would you just up and leave on a whim? For a boy you knew when you were young?

That boy was Cal, though. In another life, things could have been. But that was a sacrifice of the Order. And yet, here he was, holding your hand and staring into your eyes, telling you he needed you. He knew you were meant for more than bartending on the far side of the galaxy, and he was itching to be able to catch up if you’d let him.

“When do you need to leave?” You mumbled the question as not to excite him too much. His smile grew quickly enough, anyways.

“Is that a ‘yes?’” Cal watched as you nodded, standing up with you. “Now would be good. I’ll help you gather what you need from your place if you’d like.”

“Always the gentleman.” You chuckled. “Let’s get out of here before the regulars arrive, though.”

“Or the Empire.” Cal joked, sort of. They were looking for him after all.

“I’m not gonna regret this, am I?” You led him out the door and locked up.

“You’ll regret not doing it years ago.” What he said would be true. Years ago, your life was turned upside down. You traded one rule book for another. What he had proposed to you was more than a chance to help—it was freedom. And here you were with that boy you were told not to love all those years ago. And there was no rule book to stop you.

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @gabile18 // @sweetjedi // @retvenkos // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @dontyousassmeok // @dindjarinsspouse // @zoeyserpentluck // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @sheridans-dynamos // @lady-violet // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @simp-legend // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @your-local-simp0 // @elenavampire21 //

[literaryavenger]

Captain America: Civil War

Summary: When on a mission in Lagos things don't go as you expected, Secretary Ross offers the team a solution.

Pairing: Platonic!Avengers x F!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of violence. Language. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: It's only half of January and I've already been sick, great! Anyway, basically all the other parts of this story were queued and ready to go, so I got some time to rest but now I'm here writing with a fever! So, if anything doesn't make sense or I missed some mistakes, that's why. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

After months of tracking down Rumlow, you finally have a chance to get him once and for all.

You’re in Lagos, sitting at a cafe.

“All right, what do you see?” Steve’s voice comes in your ear. You know he’s talking to Wanda, she’s still learning how to be an Avenger.

“Standard beat cops,” she looks around her. “Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target.”

“There’s an ATM in the south corner, which means…” he trails off letting Wanda finish his sentence.

“Cameras.” she promptly says.

“Both cross streets are one way.” Steve keeps going.

“So compromised escape routes.” Wanda reasons.

“Means our guy doesn't care about being seen, he isn't afraid to make a mess on the way out.” Steve says, “You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“Yeah, the red one?” she asks “It’s cute.”

“It's also bulletproof,” you discreetly point out  ”which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.”

“You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?” she says and you smirk.

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.” Natasha answers from a few tables away.

“Anybody ever tell you you're a little paranoid?” you hear Sam ask and try hard to contain your laughter.

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?” Natasha says and you can see her smirking.

“Eyes on target, folks. This is the best lead we've had on Rumlow in six months. I don't want to lose him.” Steve says in our comms.

“If he sees us coming that won't be a problem.” Sam says. 

“Yeah, he kind of hates us.” you add.

There’s a minute of silence as you all keep an eye on your surroundings, then you hear Steve’s voice again. “Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

You turn around just in time to see Redwing flying under it to scan the truck.

“Give me X-ray.” Sam orders the drone. “That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

“It’s a battering ram.” Natasha says and your eyes widen a little.

“Go now!” Steve says and before the words are even out of his mouth you’re moving.

“What?” Wanda asks confused.

“He’s not hitting the police.” you say and then you’re all running in the truck’s direction.

Steve and his supersoldier ass get there first, then Sam and Wanda who can fly, while you and Nat are stuck driving your motorcycles as fast as you can, but can still hear the conversation through the comms.

“Body armor, AR-15's.” Steve says “I make seven hostiles.”

You hear some gun fire and then Sam “I make five.”

“Sam.”- Wanda says and, after a few seconds, Sam again “Four.”

“Rumlow’s on the third floor.” Sam says, then Steve says in his Captain voice “Wanda, just like we practiced.”

“What about the gas?”-you hear her ask.

“Get it out.” he orders. You can see the green and red whirlpool from the street.

“Rumlow has a biological weapon.” Steve after a few minutes, just as you and Natasha get there.

“We’re on it.” she says and basically jumps off her motorcycle and it skids into an agent.

You make a sharp turn and come to a sudden stop in front of an agent on your right side, so you push your left leg off the bike and, twisting your body, you kick the guy hard on the stomach while also dismounting the motorcycle.

When you turn around Nat cocks her eyebrow at you and you shrug. “What? I’m not throwing my bike at these assholes.” she rolls her eyes at you as you two keep taking out soldiers.

You can see Nat getting dragged by Rumlow, but you’re too busy fighting off some agents to help her. You vaguely hear him saying ‘I don't work like that no more’ and frown, you manage to take out the last one around you and, just as you turn, you see Rumlow launch a grenade into the truck and say “Fire in the hole.”

You run towards it, knowing Natasha’s probably in it, but it explodes before you can get close and do anything, the door flying and Natasha falling out of it coughing.

Once you’re sure she’s okay, you turn around but Rumlow’s already gone.

“Sam. He's in an AFV heading north.” you hear Steve say and, sharing a nod with Natasha, you get back onto your bikes and run to catch up with the truck.

“I got six, they're splitting up.” Sam says just as you and Natasha get to where they ditched the truck.

Natasha jumps onto a car and then another and you follow her. “I got the two on the left.” she says.

“I got the middle!” you say and start your pursuit.

“They ditched their gear. It's a shell game now.” you hear Steve say as you run after your two guys. “One of them has the payload.”

Just as you manage to catch up to your guys and knock one of them out, you can hear Sam saying “He doesn't have it. I’m empty.”

You quickly take down the other guy and search through them. “I struck out, too.”

Then you hear Natasha say “Payload secure.” and you allow yourself to relax.

“Thanks, Sam.” She adds.

“Don't thank me.” he answers and you frown, confused as you start making your way back.

“I’m… not thanking that thing.” is all Natasha needs to say for you to understand, and you roll your eyes.

“His name is Redwing.” Sam corrects her.

“I'm still not thanking it.” she says.

“He's cute. Go ahead, pet him.” he says and you can’t help but laugh.

Your amusement is cut short as you hear Steve’s grunts, clearly still in a fight and you try to move faster to make your way to him.

You catch up right after Wanda, just as Rumlow says “And you're coming with me.” and activates the bomb vest he’s wearing.

You don’t have time to even try and cover yourself as Wanda keeps the blast contained in a ball around Rumlow, his screams the only thing that can be heard.

She launches him in the air and the ball of energy explodes too close to the building next to it, setting a couple of floors on fire.

As you all watch in horror, you barely register Steve asking Sam for Fire and Rescue as you put your hands on Wanda’s shoulders and turn her away from the building. You let her rest her head on your shoulder as she starts crying, your own shocked attention still on the building.

This is not good.

-

It’s been a rough couple of days for the team after the mission in Lagos.

You’re all back at the compound now, and you’re on your way to the conference room to wait there for Tony when you pass Wanda’s room and hear her talking to Steve.

“Rumlow said ‘Bucky’ and… all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn.” Steve pauses “And people died. It's on me.”

“It's on both of us.” Wanda counters.

“This job…” Steve starts “we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time… maybe nobody gets saved.” 

You see Vision approach and keep walking to make your way to the conference room, exchanging a knowing nod with him.

When you get there you’re a little startled to see The Secretary of State, but you sit down at the table in silence.

Once everyone gets there, Steve sits at the head of table, to his left Sam, then Vision and then Wanda, to his right you then Natasha, then Rhodey and Tony is sitting in a chair by himself to the right of the table.

Secretary Ross is on his feet in front of the table and, once everyone takes a seat, he starts talking.

“Five years ago, I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my back-swing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass… I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me: Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some… who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’”

“And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

“How about ‘dangerous’?” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Definitely not the word you were expecting “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Ross activates a screen behind him and News footage from past Avengers and SHIELD matters flash on the screen as he speaks.

“New York.” A Chitauri leviathan. Terrified citizens. A soldier firing a gun. The Hulk smashes into a building and sends a dust cloud that engulfs the camera. Rhodey looks regretful and he glances behind him at Natasha.

“Washington DC.” The three Insight helicarriers, firing on each other. The destroyed Triskelion. A helicarrier crashing into the Potomac and throwing up a massive wave, engulfing citizens and the camera. You and Sam look at each other, then down.

“Sokovia.” Terrified citizens, running. The city rising. A building falling over. Everyone’s eyes are glued to the screen.

“Lagos.” The burning building. Paramedics moving a body. A dead girl. Wanda is particularly affected by the footage from Lagos. Steve sees this and intervenes.

“Okay. That's enough.” Steve says, looking at Wanda.

Secretary Ross nods to his aide and the images disappear, then he starts talking again.

“For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” he places a thick document on the desk and passes it to Wanda. She looks at it and then slides it over to Rhodey. “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

“The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place.” Steve points out. “I feel we've done that.”

“Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” Steve looks up and meets Ross's eyes. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there'd be consequences.”

You narrow your eyes at him. They’re people, not weapons. Before you can voice your thoughts he goes on. “Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.” He points at the Accords.

“So, there are contingencies.” Rhodey says, familiar with the politics by now.

“Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords.” Steve glances at Tony “Talk it over.”

He starts to walk away when you speak up for the first time. “And if we come to a decision you don't like?”

Ross stops and looks back at you. “Then you retire.” he deadpans.

You simply nod, trying to stifle a grin and, when you look at Natasha, you can see she’s doing the same.

He leaves with his aide and there’s a moment of silence before you all get up and walk quietly to the common room. Some sitting, some standing and Tony laying down on a chair. And then the discussion starts.

-

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.” Rhodey says to sam. You’ve lost track of how long the team has been discussing.

“So let's say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam,” He leans in to look at Sam since you’re currently between the two men. “and you're just like, ‘No, that's cool. We got it.’”

“Why am I always in the middle of this?” you say, a little exasperated at the two that are almost glaring at each other now, you make eye contact with Nat and she clearly feels the same way you do.

“How long are you going to play both sides?” Sam says, ignoring your comment.

“I have an equation.” Vision jumps in and everyone looks at him.

“Oh, this will clear it up.” you say sarcastically and cross your arms in front of your chest.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.” Vision explains.

“Are you saying it's our fault?” Steve asks.

“I'm saying there may be a causality.” Vision clarifies, before going on “Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom.” Rhodey says and you roll your eyes while Sam glares at him.

“Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.” Natasha points out.

“It's because he's already made up his mind.” Steve says.

“Boy, you know me so well.” Tony says sarcastically and gets up, rubbing his head. “Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache.”

He walks to the kitchen and grabs a mug before continuing. “That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort- Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

He puts his phone in a basket and taps it, the phone projects an image of a smiling young man. He looks down, then back up, and pretends to notice the picture for the first time. “Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.” Everyone is listening to him intently as he seems to be having a little meltdown, but his words are clearly affecting the whole team.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” He pauses and takes a pill with some coffee, then faces you all. “There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.” Steve says.

“Who said we're giving up?” Tony promptly answers.

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions.” Steve counters. “This document just shifts the blame.”

“I'm sorry. Steve. That- that is dangerously arrogant.” Rhodey says. “This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA.”

“No, but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change.” you interject, seeing Steve’s point.

“That's good. That's why I'm here.” Tony says, pointing at you. “When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Tony, you chose to do that.” you tell him, then Steve talks, nodding at you.

“She’s right. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” Steve says.

“If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later.” Tony reasons. “That's the fact. That won't be pretty.”

“You're saying they'll come for me.” Wanda speaks up for the first time since this discussion started.

“We would protect you.” Vision says confidently.

“Could we?” you say and everyone looks at you, so you elaborate. “If we don’t sign this we’re criminals for even trying to keep her safe. If we do sign, it’ll be our job to come for her if we get ordered to.”

There’s a moment of silence while you all think about this, before Natasha speaks up. “Maybe Tony's right.”

You all look at her, surprised. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-” she gets interrupted by Sam.

“Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“He’s not wrong, Tasha.” You add.

“I'm just… I'm reading the terrain.” She explains. “We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Focus up.” Tony says and looks at Natasha, clearly amused. “I'm sorry, did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no. You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed--I win.”

They all start to talk over each other, but you’re focused on Steve’s phone that you can see over his shoulder since you’re standing right behind him. He gets a text that says ‘She’s gone. In her sleep.’ and you frown, watching Steve quickly get up.

“I have to go.” is all he says while dropping the Accords on the coffee table and, when he exits the room, you exchange a worried glance with Sam.

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham

[photogirl894]

Sun and Rain Part 2: Age of the Empire

Chapter 41

"Special Surprises"

A "Bad Batch" fanfic!

Pairing: Hunter x fem OC, Echo (more best friend pairing)

A/N: Man, I don't know why this one took a while to write, but finally, it's done!

I know the last few chapters have been crazy full of angst (cuz, you know, canon demanded it of me 😝) but this chapter will be a nice breather chapter full of nice, fluffy things! 😊 I hope y'all get some enjoyment out of this one!

Taglist: @the-sad-batch , @nimata-beroya , @intrepidmare , @legolkenxbi , @tech-aficionado ,

@ladykatakuri , @d1n0-dan , @sammi9498 , @darthzero22 , @scarlettrose9901 ,

@thebadbatchscyare , @chxpsi , @ilikemymendarkandfictional , @4pplecider , @locitapurplepink ,

@l-lend , @nekotaetae , @eternalwaffle , @merkitty49 , @avathebestx ,

@idoubleswearimawriter , @techs-stitches , @fantasyproductions , @totallyunidentified , @dreamsandrosies ,

@theknightofivanhoe

《 Chapter 40

》 Coming soon!

All parts (Part 2) (Part 1)

Explanation: The events from Kamino have left Kimber in extremely low spirits...but the Bad Batch and the Koriena Force hatch a plan to raise them, especially after making an important discovery.

With Kamino and Ord Mantell being on opposite ends of the galaxy, it was going to take a few days for the Bad Batch to travel. After spending as much time as they could going through hyperspace, their fuel reserves started running low and decided to make a stop on Corellia, a good halfway point, to refuel, go through as well restock on supplies and to take a little downtime before getting back to Ord Mantell.

While on Corellia, Kimber, Hunter, Wrecker and Omega were going through their supplies while Tech and Echo dealt with refueling the ship. However, while taking inventory, they came across Crosshair’s old trunk with his Bad Batch armor and weapons inside. Realizing it was still there, having not thought about it for months, left a bitter taste in all their mouths. 

Especially Kimber’s.

Seeing his armor made her angry and all she wanted to do was just take it and smash it all on the ground. “We don’t need all this anymore,” she said, almost through gritted teeth. “Why is this still here? We should just throw it out.”

As she moved to grab the breastplate with the intent to destroy it, she heard Wrecker say, “I know we’re all still mad at him…but I don’t think we should get rid of Crosshair’s armor.”

“Why?” she asked angrily.

“Because…what if he does come back someday?” he asked back, his face and voice downtrodden. “Then we should have it ready for him. Besides…it just doesn’t feel right to throw it out. If we do that, then we’ll lose him forever…and I’m not ready for that.”

Any mad retort Kimber was about to throw at him was caught in her throat and she nearly choked on her words. She wasn’t prepared for Wrecker to make such a heartfelt point. Even though she still was mad at Crosshair, there was the small part of her deep inside that agreed with Wrecker: she too wasn’t ready to be rid of everything that reminded them of Crosshair yet despite telling herself that she was. She’d already lost him and she didn’t want to lose him completely. Otherwise, he’d become nothing but a memory that would someday fade away. 

“It’s only just going to take up unnecessary space,” Hunter stated.

“No…Wrecker’s right,” Kimber spoke up, her voice low and on the verge of trembling. “If we get rid of everything that reminds us of Crosshair, then we’re giving up hope that he’ll ever come back…which is something we can’t afford to lose. I’d rather it take up space than have there be just a shadow of a memory forever haunting us.”

Not giving the others a chance to say anything back, she whipped around, nearly hitting Wrecker and Hunter with her braid, and briskly walked to the bunk area of the ship, the sound of a door swishing open and shut following her footsteps. 

“I don’t think she’s doing well,” Wrecker observed.

“No, she’s not,” affirmed Hunter. “Everything with Crosshair was a serious hit to her emotionally.”

Omega then asked, looking up at Hunter with sad eyes, “Is there anything we can do to help her?”

Shaking his head, Hunter answered, “Right now, I don’t think there is. She just needs time to process. Once we get back to Ord Mantell, we might be able to come up with something, but for right now, let’s just leave her alone.”

“Hopefully, the Koriena Force will be back, too. I’m sure they can help her feel better,” Wrecker suggested. 

“Are you discussing Kimber?” they then heard Tech ask as both he and Echo had returned at that moment and were walking up into the ship.

Omega responded, “We came across Crosshair’s old pack again and…she’s still upset.”

“She has every right to be,” said Echo. “She and Crosshair were very close. Losing him and leaving him behind hasn’t been easy for her.”

Then Hunter turned to Echo and ordered, “Echo, see if you can get the Koriena Force on comms. Let them know we’re en route to Ord Mantell…and that we’ll need their help with Kimber when we get back.”

Echo nodded and retreated to his bunk to get his encrypted comm device that Lex had given him. They figured since Kimber had one, it was good for the rest of the Clones to have their own, as well, that they could use in the event they were unable to use Kimber's. He put in Rina's frequency and, a few seconds later, was met with a lovely face he wasn't expecting, but was nonetheless glad to see. 

“Well, hey, handsome,” Lex greeted him with a smile. 

He snickered in amusement. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you, but you’re a very welcome sight right now.”

She grinned back and then called over her shoulder, “It’s Echo!” As the forms of the three other ladies came into view, crowding around Lex, she went on to ask, “What happened, Echo? We haven’t heard anything from you guys since you skipped out on Cid’s last mission.”

“Yeah, she told us you dropped off some Clone and then ditched again without saying where you were going,” Rina put in. Then she added, “We met Gregor, by the way. Funny guy. He and I shared a couple drinks.”

“A couple? He drank you under the table,” said Kida, which earned her an elbow to the ribs from Rina that made her chuckle.

Then Echo informed them, “We had some unforeseen complications come up. We’ll explain more when we get back. We're heading to Ord Mantell now.”

“Are you guys all right?” Irys inquired.

“Yes…but there’s something else,” he said with a despondent sigh. 

Crossing her arms, Rina then said, “Well, don't leave us hanging, Reverb. Spill it.”

He blinked, stunned. “Reverb?” he repeated. 

Lex, Kida and Irys all looked at Rina, confused, and she replied, “Reverb…like an echo? It's a play on the name.”

In response, Lex playfully shoved Rina and Kida rolled her eyes, but Irys smirked and remarked, “That was actually clever.”

“I have my moments,” Rina said with a proud grin.

After shaking his own head at Rina’s new nickname for him, Echo went on, “Some things happened and it took a serious toll on Kimber. She's fine, but distraught, unfortunately.”

Rina held up a hand. “Say no more. We'll take care of her once you guys get here.”

The rest of the ladies nodded in agreement and understanding.

He grinned gladly seeing that he didn't even need to explain for the girls to know exactly what he needed. “I knew I could count on all of you,” he said with gratitude, looking at each of them.

“Always,” Lex stated.

“Comm us once you reach Ord Mantell,” added Kida. “We'll prepare for your arrival.”

Echo bowed his head and after one last look at Lex, he ended the transmission. 

To the Bad Batch’s surprise, the Koriena Force were already in the hangar on Ord Mantell waiting for them when they finally arrived one rotation later. Wrecker was the first one to run off the ship to excitedly greet Rina and the rest of the squad followed after him. 

Kida ran up to Kimber, engulfed her in a tight hug and exclaimed, “We're so glad you're all okay. We were worried something had happened when we'd had no word from any of you.”

“We're all right, no need to worry anymore,” said Kimber, trying to mask her sadness.

Then Kida turned around to Irys, who was holding Kori, and took the child from Irys’s arms. She then flipped back around and stated to Kimber, “Here, I think you need some baby love.” Then she proceeded to place Kori in Kimber’s arms, a small coo sounding from Kori as she did so. 

Startled at now suddenly being handed a baby, Kimber carefully cradled him in her arms and said, “Oh! Okay then!”

“Come on, boss lady. You're coming with us for a bit. Give you a break from all this testosterone,” Rina declared as she and Kida started leading a confused Kimber away.

As they were walking away, Lex and Irys hung back with the rest of the Bad Batch. Irys was the first to address them, saying, “After Echo commed us, I got to researching a few things that I thought could help cheer Kimber up and I discovered something important that I think will do the trick.”

“What is it?” Hunter asked right away.

“We’ve missed it by a few days, but we can still celebrate. It was Kimber’s birthday,” Irys stated. 

“Her…birthday?” asked Wrecker, scratching his head in puzzlement.

“What is that?” Omega also questioned.

Lex tilted her head. “Do you guys not know what a birthday is?”

Pushing up his goggles, Tech explained, “Given that all Clones are genetically created and produced from tubes, we are unfamiliar with the concept of birthdays.”

Both Lex and Irys exchanged bewildered looks. “I guess that never occurred to me,” said Lex.

“What is a birthday?” asked Hunter. 

“It’s exactly what's in the word: it’s the day of your birth. The date and year that you’re born are noted down and it helps you keep track of how old you are,” Irys informed the Clones. “Each year, you celebrate growing another year older with the people you care about and they give you gifts, either physical ones or they do things for you to show you they love you and are glad you’re still here. Though, not sure how that would work for Clones with your advanced aging and all.”

Then Lex added, “We thought, even though it’s a few days late, we could all throw something together for Kimber as a birthday gift to surprise her; help her feel loved and to get her mind off of things.” 

“I think that’s a great idea. Did you have anything in mind?” Echo asked.

“Kida wants to do some spa time with her and the ladies on the Aurora for a while and we’ve roped Gregor into helping out with something, as well,” answered Lex.

Hunter put a hand to his chin in thought. He liked the thought of getting his beloved a gift and celebrating her life, but there was just one thing that was holding him back. “I don’t know if we have enough money to afford anything special for her,” he said with disappointment.

“That’s fine, you don’t have to,” said Irys. “I also said you could do something for her, too. An act of service of some kind.”

“We’re going to catch up with the girls, but meet us back at the Aurora around 1800 hours. We've got something else planned you guys will want to be a part of,” said Lex.

Holding up a finger to her lips, Irys reminded them, “And remember, it's a surprise, so don't say anything yet.” Then she stole a look at Omega. “Do you want to join us for girl time, kid?”

“Can I, Hunter?” Omega asked excitedly.

He simply smiled and gave her a nod, which made her jump with giddiness.

“If you need help thinking of anything for a gift, let us know,” Lex then called over her shoulder and then she, Omega and Irys ran off.

Now that it was just the Clones left, Wrecker inquired, “Is there anything we can do for Kimber that she would like?”

They all thought about it a little more before Hunter then declared, looking to each of his brothers, “Actually…I might have an idea…and I’m going to need help from all of you.”

Echo grinned and answered, “For Kimber...anything.”

Back at the Aurora, Lex, Omega and Irys arrived and as they walked into the main parlor, Kida exclaimed, standing up from where she sat, “All right, Irys and Lex are here! And Omega, too! Now, we can get started!” 

A bit perplexed at what was suddenly happening, Kimber asked, “What’s going on?”

“We’re treating you to some much-needed girl time and some spa treatment,” Kida told her.

Coming out from the direction of the kitchen, Rina held up a couple bottles in her hands and added, “We’ve got the good stuff from Cid’s, as well as some juice for Little Blondie, and Gregor’s whipping up a little something in the kitchen.”

“Gregor’s here?” was Kimber's next question.

Then Omega told her, “Yeah, we dropped him off here before we went back for you and Hunter.”

Lex’s eyes widened slightly before saying, “And that’s also why we’re all here: you need to clue us in on everything that happened to you guys.”

Right then, Gregor came out from the kitchen carrying cups in his hands and his face lit up at seeing Kimber there. “Hey, it's you!” he exclaimed. “Kimber, right? I realized I never got your name before we were separated.”

A small smile crossed her lips as she replied, “You are correct, Captain.”

“Oh, enough with the ‘Captain’ talk. It's just Gregor,” he replied, setting the cups down for Rina to start filling. “I'm glad to see you made it back okay.’

“Is it almost done, Gregor?” asked Irys.

“Yes, ma'am. I'll be out with it in a few minutes,” he said, giving her a salute before heading back to the kitchen.

Puzzled, Kimber inquired, “What is he doing?”

While pouring drinks into the glasses, Rina responded, “He's cooking us up some food. What else do you do in the kitchen?”

Gregor poked his head out of the doorway and said also, “I used to work as a dishwasher in a diner on Abafar. I picked up a few cooking tricks there.” Then he disappeared back in the other room.

That was a curious thing for Kimber to hear. A Clone soldier working as a dishwasher? “I definitely need to hear more on that story later,” she commented.

“But first, you have a story to share,” said Kida, pointing at Kimber. “However, before we get to that, I'm getting you out of that armor and into something more comfortable so you can relax.” Kimber started to stammer in protest, but Kida simply placed her hands on Kimber's shoulders, turned her around and said, “I’ll hear no argument against this. Go into my room and you'll find one of my loungewear dresses on the bed to change into. Off you go!”

While still very bewildered, Kimber went into Kida’s room as she was told.

“You know, you've gotten a lot more bossy since becoming a mom,” teased Rina as she was handing out drinks to everyone.

“Hey, we're treating her today and keeping it a surprise. I have to be bossy in order to make sure things go according to plan,” replied Kida in a quieter voice, moving away from the door to make sure Kimber wouldn't hear, and taking a glass from Rina.

A few minutes later, Kimber emerged from the room in a simple, pastel pink dress that fell to her ankles and a blue-gray robe jacket with billowy sleeves over top of it. She already appeared much more comfortable and relaxed than she had even moments before. 

Clapping her hands together in satisfaction, Kida declared, “I knew that dress would suit you perfectly! You already look so serene than you had when you arrived. Now, come! Sit down and tell us everything while I work on you.” Then she stood up, offering her spot on the sofa to Kimber.

At this point, Kimber pretty much had a permanent perplexed look on her face, but just did as Kida said, knowing it would be useless to question her otherwise.

“May I ask why you all are suddenly doting on me like this?” she asked as she sat down and Lex handed her a drink.

“What? We can't just spoil our boss lady without having a reason?” Rina questioned back.

In that moment, Gregor came out of the kitchen, proclaiming, “Here you are, ladies! Hot and fresh out of the oven.” In his hands was a large bowl that was full of multiple small, round loaves of brown bread with black bits inside. 

Kimber saw what he set down on the table and her eyes went wide. “That's…that’s ahrisa,” she observed, taking one from the bowl and feeling the warmth on her fingers. “These are quite popular on Tatooine. I love these.”

“Is that so?” asked Lex, who shared a knowing glance with Rina when Kimber wasn't looking. First part of their surprise: a success.

Kimber bit into the hot, baked sphere and the familiar spiciness of the food she hadn't had in a long time; a taste that reminded her a lot of her home planet overwhelmed her senses. A moan of elation sounded from her throat, having missed this more than she realized. 

“This tastes just like home. Thank you, Gregor,” she said, the other ladies voicing their agreement along with her.

“That's kind of you to say,” he said with a proud smile. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some other things to take care of elsewhere. Enjoy the ahrisa.” With a nod, he walked out of the room and towards the exit of the ship.

Once everyone was finished with their ahrisa, Irys stated to Kimber, “All right, no more interruptions. We want to know what happened since you last called us, when you asked to tell Cid you weren't completing your last mission.”

Omega looked up at Kimber with a sympathetic look in her big brown eyes, knowing this wasn't going to be an easy story for her to tell. At that moment, Kida asked Kimber for one of her hands and pulled out a bottle, giving it a light shake. Once Kimber took a quick drink, she set the glass down and held out her right hand to Kida. Kida squeezed out a dollop of what looked like lotion into her own hand, spread it around her palms and then took Kimber's hand, rubbing and massaging the sweet-scented lotion into her skin.

Then Kimber began her tale, “Well, as I'm sure you know now, Rex asked us to help get a friend out of trouble, which was Gregor. We were successful in freeing him from an Imperial facility, but as we fled from the Empire’s attacks, Hunter and I were captured.”

“Hunter ordered us to leave them behind,” Omega added sadly.

“It's good that he did. All of you could've been captured by the Empire and that would've been much worse,” commented Lex.

Kida kept on massaging Kimber's hand, which almost made her forget she was telling a story for a second. Then she kept going, “We were kept in the facility for a while and we were told a Commander was going to retrieve us.”

Catching on, Irys said, “Oh, don't tell me…!”

Kimber nodded. “It was Crosshair.”

Irys then muttered something most likely unpleasant in Togruti while everyone else rolled their eyes or groaned in disgust. 

“My thoughts exactly,” said Kimber. “He came to get us and said he wanted to take us back to where it all began for us…which was back on Kamino.”

Then Omega chimed in, “We were able to track Hunter's comm to Kamino, but it turned out to be a trap. He wanted us to follow them there.”

“What happened when you got there?” Rina inquired. 

Kimber answered, “He once again tried convincing us to join the Empire…and in the midst of that, Imperial ships opened fire on Tipoca City with all of us still inside “

Kida ceased massaging Kimber's hand for a moment, grasped it tightly and exclaimed, “You're not serious!”

“It's true,” Omega confirmed. “They destroyed the whole city and it collapsed into the ocean.”

“Omega, I'm so sorry. That was your home; that must've been terrible for you,” said Lex, putting her arms around Omega’s shoulders. 

“Curse those Imperial rats,” Rina said angrily, inhaling a drag of sweetblossom from her vape mod.

Kida then commented, “At least you all made it out alive and safe.”

Omega, after leaning in to Lex’s hug for a moment, then said, “That wasn't the worst part, though.”

Everyone's eyes all turned back to Kimber, wondering what Omega meant.

Kimber took a second to breathe, bracing herself for the worst part of the story. Kida had moved on to rubbing lotion on her other hand and Kida could feel Kimber tense up a little. 

Taking a slow inhale, Kimber then told them, “Crosshair told us his inhibitor chip had already been removed…and he refused to tell us when it happened.”

“What?!” both Lex and Kida nearly shouted.

Irys then started spouting more Togruti curses, but much louder this time. 

“You're telling us that all the things he did wasn't under the influence of the chip?” Rina cried out. 

“I don't know how much of his actions were of his own free will, but essentially…yes,” Kimber answered in a low voice. “It could've possibly been after Bracca because when I saw him on Ryloth, he seemed different, but I can't say for certain. Either way…it destroyed me to hear he was choosing the Empire willingly…even after we all escaped Kamino together and we saved him. We could've left him, but we didn't…and he still chose the Empire over us.”

Kida grasped her hand tightly to console her. “Oh Kimber…it’s no wonder you're not doing well. I can't imagine how awful you must have felt.”

Kimber glanced at Kida and asked, “How did you know I wasn't doing well?”

“Echo called and told us,” Lex admitted. “He wanted our help in finding a way to cheer you up when you guys got back.”

Then it became clear to Kimber why the girls had been behaving peculiarly since she'd gotten back. “That explains everything,” she said aloud.

“Your boys were worried about you,” said Rina.

With a light hum, Kimber said back, “They always are. I appreciate all of you looking out for me.”

“Of course,” said Kida, finishing up with massaging Kimber's other hand, “and now that we know the full story, I've determined you need more self-care treatment after all that nonsense. I'm going to run you a nice, hot bath with oil and bubbles and I'll wash your hair for you. Force knows it probably needs it and your head could use a nice scalp massage, too.”

Overwhelmed at all the attention, Kimber tried to protest, “Oh no, that won't be necessary.”

“Boss Lady, haven't you learned by now that once Mom says you need something, there's no escaping it?” Rina questioned with a smirk. “That's how I got my hair color stripped against my will, remember?”

Grinning with satisfaction, Kida declared, “She's right, you know. I am the leisure expert, after all. Now, everyone, gather the drinks and the food. Girl time is going to continue in the bathing room while Kimber gets a much-needed, relaxing bath.”

Kimber was still bewildered at the tender loving care she was receiving, but everyone else was already up and moving. Then she happened to look over at Omega and saw a big and seemingly aware smile on her face, which Kimber found a bit suspicious. It was like the look of a child who had a secret they really wanted to tell, but couldn't.

“What's with that look?” she asked, narrowing her eyes but still grinning at the girl. “You know something, don't you?”

Omega just giggled and ran off with her glass of juice without saying a word. Kimber wasn't sure how to react to that, but just shook her head and got up from the sofa. Something else was going on, more than just the girls wanting to cheer her up…but what was it?

The Koriena Force and Omega spent a couple more hours together conversing while Kimber relaxed in the bath and Kida washed her hair as well as gave her a head and neck massage, helping to ease her tension. Kida even took the time to rebraid Kimber’s hair for her after it was cleaned. Even though Kimber wasn’t used to so much attention being solely on her, she couldn’t help but admit that all of Kida’s treatments were indeed helping her feel a bit better. She was still thinking of Crosshair at first, having had to tell her friends about what happened with him, but talking to them and letting Kida take care of her seemed to take her mind off of him. That and wondering what other reasons were behind all the pampering also occupied her thoughts. What could possibly be going on to make the ladies and even Omega act so strangely?

As she was helped out of the bath and Kida put a robe over her, she heard a comm beep, Rina answered it and Gregor’s voice simply said, “Everything is ready.”

“Copy. We’re coming,” Rina replied.

“What’s ready?” Kimber asked. 

“You’ll see,” Rina said back. “Better get back in that dress quickly.”

Kimber moved back behind the screen in the room, dried herself off with a towel and got back into Kida’s dress and robe-jacket as fast as she could. Once she was ready, Kida and Rina quickly ushered her towards the door. When she tried asking once again what was going on or where Omega, Irys and Lex had gone, realizing they weren’t with them, she was met with “just wait” and “you’ll see”. She found herself walking through the ship towards the dining area, the doors swished open and then--

“Surprise!” 

Her jaw dropped in shock at hearing the sudden shouts inside and then seeing Lex, Irys, Omega, her boys and Gregor all standing around the large table, all with joyful smiles on their faces. There was a pot in the middle of the table as well as bowls, plates and cutlery placed all around and what appeared to be a colorful cake next to the pot. 

“Happy Birthday, Kimber!” Kida said cheerfully to her, grasping her shoulders tightly.

Dumbfounded, it took a second for Kimber to process everything. “Wait…what? My birthday?” she repeated.

Irys stepped up and explained, “I did some research to see what we could do to help cheer you up and discovered that your birthday was actually a few days ago when you were gone. Even though it’s past, we thought we could still celebrate.”

“We wanted to give you some self-care time with us as a gift and, on top of that, we found out Gregor knows how to cook and enlisted his help in making some food from Tatooine for you, as well, like the ahrisa,” added Lex. “Luckily, we were able to get the ingredients for everything just in time.”

Then Gregor motioned to the food on the table and said, “I made some Bantha steak soup and then a pika cake for dessert.”

Speechless, Kimber could barely say anything to respond, her mouth still hanging open.

Then Wrecker spoke up, “We didn’t know about your birthday until we got here, but we’ve also got something special for you after we eat.”

A light gasp escaped her and she started to get teary-eyed, overwhelmed with gratitude and love for her friends; her family. “I…I didn’t even realize…having been caught up in a war and then running from the Empire, I never thought about my birthday at all,” she admitted. “I can’t believe all of you would do this for me.”

“You’re worth it,” said Echo.

“It was difficult for us seeing you so distraught over everything that’s taken place that we felt it was imperative we all collectively do something to raise your spirits,” Tech stated.

Then, with an adoring smile, Hunter said in conclusion, “Because we love you, Kimber.”

A couple happy tears fell from Kimber’s eyes as she looked at Hunter and then around at all of her friends. “I don’t know what to say...except thank you. All of you, from the bottom of my heart.”

“All the best for the best boss lady in the galaxy,” said Rina, giving Kimber a light elbow nudge in the side. 

Omega approached her and she asked, her eyes full of hope, "Do you feel better now, Kimber?"

A single tear slid down Kimber's cheek as she smiled and answered, "Yes, I do, my dear. Very much so."

Elated at her response, Omega threw her arms around Kimber's waist and hugged her.

“Can we eat now? The soup smells really good and I'm starving!” Wrecker exclaimed, putting his hands over his stomach.

Everyone chuckled good-heartedly at him and Kimber responded, “Of course, we can, Wrecker.” Then she looked to Gregor across the way and said, “You'll join us, too, won't you, Gregor?”

Sheepishly, he ran a hand over his hair and said back, “Oh, uh…I don’t wanna intrude on your celebration with your friends.”

“All Clones are my friends,” she replied. “Besides, you made all the food. It’s only fair you get to share in having it, too. I insist you join us.”

“In that case, I’d be honored to,” he said, releasing a squeaky chuckle. 

With that, they all gathered around the table and sat down, ready to partake in the lovely-looking meal that had been prepared. Just like with the ahrisa, Kimber found herself being transported back to her home planet through the savory, meaty taste of the stew and the tart richness of the pika cake. Inevitably, there was a small sense of melancholy as she thought about her late parents and how much she missed them, but she didn’t dare let it show on her face in front of all her friends. This was a happy occasion and she wasn’t going to let those feelings of sadness ruin the mood. Her love for the people in front of her who were all with her now to celebrate her life was what mattered most in the moment. She had lost her parents, but she had gained a new family to look out for her and spend her future birthdays with and she couldn’t be more grateful.

To her slight confusion, however, once all of the Bad Batch were finished with their meal--or rather after Wrecker had finished his fourth helping of soup and his second slice of cake--they all departed quickly from the Aurora without saying where they were going. Hunter had been the last to leave, but before he followed the others, he had crouched down next to Omega and whispered something in her ear. She got an excited look on her face, nodded at him and then he jogged after the others.

“Where are they all going?” Kimber questioned.

Omega ran over to her and told her, “They’re getting ready for your surprise. Hunter wants you to cover your eyes and I’ll lead you outside.”

“Wow, they’re going all out for this,” commented Rina. 

Satisfied, Kimber stood up and placed one hand over her eyes while Omega took her other hand in her own. Then she heard Lex say behind her that they had her back as Omega gently pulled her forward. She trusted the young girl and the ladies behind her to lead her wherever it was she was meant to go. After a few feet, Omega warned her about the ramp that had been lowered and to watch her step going down. She felt someone’s hands on her back and under her arms to steady her. Her feet touched the ground once more and as they continued forward, she heard the light and familiar hum of an engine close by; the sound of the Marauder. She knew that sound well by this point. A few seconds later, Omega told her to open her eyes. Kimber removed her hand from her eyes and had to blink a couple times from the bright lights of the Marauder’s entrance. It was now night time, so the lights were brighter than normal. In front of her on the left stood Echo and Tech and on her right stood Wrecker. At the top of the steps, standing in the doorway to the Marauder, was her beloved Sergeant Hunter. 

As she took in what she was seeing, Echo said to her, “We know things have been hard for you for a while now, Kim. Even more so recently. We weren’t familiar with what a birthday was until a few hours ago, but we still wanted to put together something significant for you.”

“I decorated the inside of the ship just like how I decorated Omega’s room,” Wrecker stated.

“I helped clean the inside of the ship with him…because we all knew it needed it,” said Echo with slight exasperation.

Kimber turned her attention to Hunter and inquired of him, “Are we going somewhere?”

“Just you and me, sweetheart.” Still flashing a loving smile her way, he held out a hand to her and answered, “I’m taking you up to the stars.”

A smile of joy and amazement slowly crossed her face. The thought of watching the stars alone with Hunter was something she’d wanted for a long time. She hadn’t ever mentioned it to him before; there just hadn’t ever been time to think about it or bring it up. The fact that he had thought of it on his own without any encouragement from her was more clear proof of how in sync the two of them were; how alike their minds were in their thinking. She started up the steps and placed her hand in his, grasping it tight with anticipation.

Tech then came forward and said, “I did some research and discovered that a cosmic event will be taking place tonight. I have given Hunter the coordinates where you should be able to see it at its most poignant moment. That is my contribution to your gift.”

“Thank you, Tech,” said Kimber. She looked back over her shoulder and said in addition, “Thank you to all of you. You have all made this the best birthday I could’ve ever asked for.”

“Ah, enough with the sap and get going already!” Rina cried out, waving a hand at her.

Needing no more convincing, Hunter gave a light tug on Kimber’s arm and pulled her into the Marauder, closing the ramp behind her and leaving the both of them alone inside. Once the door shut, Hunter took Kimber’s face into his hands and brought her to him, kissing her tenderly yet still with a lot of pent up passion. 

When he pulled away, a tiny chuckle escaped his lips. “Had to get that out of the way before I fly the ship,” he told her, his mouth just barely hovering over hers.

“Doesn't bother me at all,” she said, grinning up at him. 

After that, they walked hand in hand up to the front of the ship and Kimber was amazed to see lights similar to the ones in Omega's room hanging from the ceiling of the ship. They illuminated the inside quite well and they were so pretty to see. Kimber marveled at Wrecker's decorating skills, more than she even had the first time. Then a pleasant, clean scent filled her nostrils and she couldn't help but grin. Echo had outdone himself cleaning the ship.

Hunter then took his place in the pilot’s seat and Kimber sat in the chair opposite him. He pulled the controls up and lifted the ship up off the ground. Before long, they were exiting the hangar and soaring up into the night sky. 

Once they passed the clouds above them, Hunter said, “Come over here.”

When she looked, he was standing up and holding the controls with one hand, motioning to the chair with his other one. 

“You're letting me fly the ship?” she questioned. 

“This is an extra addition to your gift,” he said. Then he smirked. “Just don't tell Tech. It'll be our little secret.”

She hadn't expressed overly keen interest in learning to fly the Marauder, but that it might be fun to just try it out once, so she was quite surprised indeed hearing Hunter suggest it. Especially knowing how protective Tech was of the ship. Omega had said she wanted to learn to fly, but Tech insisted that she had to learn all of the ship’s systems first and be able to recite everything from memory before getting her first official lesson. Seeing Hunter was trying to be sneaky about letting Kimber fly made her snicker. She loved this spontaneous side of him that he didn't always show as often, especially recently.

She moved over into the pilot's seat and grabbed hold of the controls, which felt a little surreal at first. 

“Pull back just a little and hold her steady,” Hunter told her, still standing beside her. 

Kimber did as instructed and pulled the controls towards her, but she did it a little too hard and the ship jerked slightly as it went up, making her tense up.

“Whoa, easy there,” said Hunter softly, placing a hand over one of hers and his other hand on her back to help ease her worries. “Pull back gently. You've got this.” He helped her pull up on the controls slowly towards her and eased the ship up just as it left the planet’s atmosphere and entered the black sea of stars in space. “There you go. Now…you’re flying,” he said encouragingly. 

Kimber chuckled with delight. It was crazy to think she was flying the Marauder, even if they were just going straight at the moment. It was more than she ever thought she’d get to do. “This is amazing!” she cried.

“You’re a natural,” he complimented her. 

They continued on for another minute or two until Hunter told Kimber to ease up on the controls and to set the ship into hover mode, showing her how to do it. Once the ship was set, Kimber stood up to give Hunter back the pilot’s seat. He sat back down in it, but then pulled Kimber down onto his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and pulling her close as the two of them gazed out the window at the vast blanket of sparkling stars.

“Hunter, how did you think of this?” she asked him.

“I don’t know…it was just something I couldn’t get off my mind,” he admitted. 

“I've wanted to watch the stars with you for a long time now,” she admitted. “Ever since that day on Bestine a long time ago when I went on the flight with Tech and he took me up into space. I enjoyed that time with him, but all I could think was how much I wanted to do the same with you someday. I'm just amazed that you thought of this without any word from me.”

He squeezed her tighter around the waist and replied, “That just shows how much we think alike then.”

“And how well we know each other,” she added, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“That does make me wonder…how old are you? We've never talked about that,” he inquired.

She had to think for a moment. She had been with the Bad Batch for over a year now and realized she must've missed another birthday in that time, too. “Well, I was twenty-four when you found me and I think I missed another birthday in the time I've been with you, so I'm twenty-six now.”

“I see,” he replied. Then he added, “We don’t have to go into how old I am. I know my advanced aging makes it…complicated.”

“That’s fine,” she said. 

He turned his attention back out the viewport and then stated, pointing, “Look…it’s starting.”

Kimber looked where he was pointing and she gasped, astonished.

Outside the ship, she could see in the distance a series of bright orbs soaring slowly through the stars with bright tails following behind each of them. 

“Is that a meteor shower?” she asked Hunter.

With a glad smile, he answered, “It is. This was what Tech discovered for you.”

Her eyes wide with delight, she watched the falling meteors intently. In all the time she’d been in space before, she’d never seen anything so marvelous. Hyperspace was maybe the closest thing she could think of. There was something other-worldly about the meteor shower that left her in awe. The whole thing was beautiful and enchanting and she kept her eyes on it as they continued forward across the stars. She felt Hunter hug her tighter, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck as they watched it together. Even after the shower had traveled past their line of sight, they kept their eyes on the stars, pointing out different shapes they could see within them. 

“Over there, I see a bantha,” said Kimber, pointing up to where she could see the shape.

“I see it. I also see a clanker over there,” Hunter said back, gesturing over to another point in the sky.

She chuckled. “You’re right, I can see it, too! Oh, and right there is a--” Then she stopped, realizing the picture she was about to point out and feeling an ache in her heart.

Her abrupt stop as well as her shift in emotions didn’t go unnoticed by her Sergeant and his senses. “What is it?” he asked.

Sighing softly and turning her head away, she told him, “I…I saw the shape…of a crosshair.”

That told Hunter everything he needed to know. Gently, he reached up and guided her face over so she was looking at him again with sorrow in her amber eyes. “Kimber…I know you were hurt by everything that happened on Kamino and you have every right to feel this way. Believe me, we’re all struggling with accepting what we went through and having to leave Crosshair behind again.” He felt her breath hitch and saw her eyes close, a tear escaping from one of them that he brushed away with his thumb before cupping her cheek. “It’s been tearing me apart seeing you like this. I’ve missed your smile and it made me happy seeing it again today. Don’t let what Crosshair did take away your light and happiness. We still need you.”

Leaning into his hand, she said, her voice choking up, “I know…I’m just going to need time, is all. It’s been a lot to process and emotionally, I’m in a weird place. I want to hate Crosshair for what he’s done, but I also know that I can’t and most likely never will no matter what. I want to forget him and move on with my life, but I know if I do, then I’ll lose what little hope I have left that he’ll one day see the error of his ways and come back to us.” Then she reached up, placed her hands over his hand on her face and kissed his palm. “I’ll be okay eventually, I promise, and I appreciate you and the others all looking out for me.”

“Always,” he said. 

Quickly wiping away a couple stray tears from her eyes, Kimber then stated, “I think, if I’m going to move on, there’s one thing I can do to start the process…and I’m going to need something from Crosshair’s weapon kit.”

“What do you mean?” asked Hunter.

“His reflective discs,” she answered. “He only gave me minimal training with them before and I’ve been able to make a successful shot once. Now, he doesn’t need them anymore and I want to use them for myself. I want to train more with them and get better using them…in a way, just to spite Crosshair and to get just as good if not better than him.”

The corners of Hunter’s mouth twitched upward, pleased to see Kimber already making strides at moving on and getting back to her normal self. “That’s a start,” he commented. “Though, when did you ever make that shot? I don’t remember that.”

In response, Kimber said, “Oh, it was when I was off on my own. It was actually on Jakku after I first met Rina. She was with me, so I’m sure she’d be able to tell you the story better than I could.”

“I’m sure, but I could listen to you tell even the most mundane story all day,” said Hunter, leaning his head forward and nuzzling her nose, which made her giggle. 

Touching her forehead to his, she said softly, “Thank you, Hunter. Being up here amongst the stars with you was the best ending to a wonderful day.”

He lifted his head just enough to place a sweet, loving kiss on her brow and said adoringly, “Happy Birthday, Kimber.”

[raineandsky]

#63

tw: guns

The hero didn’t know that the receptionists at the agency had guns. He learns this fact incredibly fast when the villain wanders through the main doors to find several barrels aimed at her chest.

The hero’s on his feet immediately. “You shouldn’t be here,” is the stupid statement that comes out in the confusion. The villain throws him a lopsided smile, unbothered, as she puts her hands up in surrender.

“So where would you suggest I be?” she asks lazily.

The jail in the basement, obviously. The hero wastes no time marching her downstairs, and the villain is quite happy to trail along with him in cuffs. “Ooh, did you revamp in here?” she questions once they get downstairs.

“I think they might’ve redone the walls,” the hero tells her, and carelessly throws her into the cell to admire the paintwork.

Two hours later, he’s in the interrogation room on the superhero’s instruction, opposite the villain. She looks positively ecstatic to see him.

“Do I get a lollipop for cooperation?” she asks sweetly, and the hero scowls.

“No.”

“Aw, shame.” The villain leans back in her seat, obnoxiously more relaxed as a prisoner than her interrogator. “I’m sure your boss would love to hear all my secrets, huh?”

If looks could kill, the villain would be naught but ash. “I’m sure,” he says through gritted teeth, “but we’re going to focus on what he’s asked for, okay?”

The villain shrugs idly. “I imagine he’s got some real head scratchers.”

The villain’s working in a network, nothing the agency didn’t already know. Her co-workers, as she so lovingly calls them, are hiding all over the city. They have turf, different areas each villain is in control of. The supervillain watches over all of them, keeping them in check, running operations, from a secret spot somewhere in the hubbub of the city. She laughs when the hero presses for a location.

“Ah, that’s the one secret I can’t give away.” She gives him a cat-like grin that is frankly unnerving. “You’ll need better questions than that to get anything juicy.”

The superhero’s happy after an hour, and he trusts the hero to throw the villain back into her cell. The hero turns off halfway there, shoving her into a corner where no one can see them.

“What is wrong with you?” the hero hisses once they’re out of sight. His hand is anxiously tight on her arm. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was under the impression I was being interrogated,” the villain says with an innocent frown.

“You walked through the front doors,” he points out savagely. “Why– why are you risking this? You have as much to lose as I do.”

The villain tuts like he’s disappointed her. “Yeah, no, I don’t have shit to lose. You, however…”

She hums thoughtfully, and the hero looks impressively distraught at her nonchalance. “You could– we could lose everything if anyone finds out, [Villain]. We agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” she defends lightly, and the hero recognises that smug smirk on her face. She’s playing a game he could never hope to win. “Not my fault if someone figures it out on their own. You don’t help yourself when you act so obviously agitated.”

“I’m not—” The hero forces a deep breath that does nothing to settle his nerves. “We have to do this together, like we promised. We only have each other to do this.”

“You only have me,” the villain corrects slyly, and her smirk only gets more elated at his horrified confusion. “I know how to make a plan b, unlike you.”

The hero’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “We’re supposed to help each other.”

“And I’m getting close to helping myself.” The villain wriggles her arm out of his ever-tightening grip, pushing past the hero with a content sigh and starting on her own way back to the basement. Her heels echo damningly against the pristine tile.

“I put it in his head that something was happening between us long before I got here,” she continues brightly. “I suggest you find your way out before I say too much to [Superhero], huh?”

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 4

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 7000

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: Language

I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as hobby. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

-----

“Ramble on. And now’s the time, the time is now to sing my song!” Jensen belted out from the passenger seat.

You hummed along, not as confident to share your untrained voice or speculative lyrical knowledge. However, you had no problem fabricating your own rhythms to fit Zeppelin’s complexity as you tapped along on the steering wheel. You had since stopped for a quick lunch, refueled, and switched seats as I-80 started to stretch into a straight line bordered by cornfields. Since then, you had made it through the first, and now we're nearing the end of Zeppelin's second album. Though you had a short attention span, and generally, the random shuffle on your playlists jumped from Broadway hits to Witch House, you were determined to make it to the end of album four. Haters would say it was the obvious choice and overrated, but screw them and their elitist attitude; it was still your favorite.

The car was beginning to lose that new car scent. Of course, it wasn't a new car, and the rental company used some variant of Febreze to cover up previous use. The pine tree air freshener didn't last long, either. Jensen prevented you from a littering offense just before you were about to throw it out the window by stuffing it in the glove compartment and tossing it at your first stop. With the sun beating down, opened snacks, and drinks in the console, it was beginning to feel like a well-loved family car.

After a few hours had gone by, this fantastical adventure was settling into reality. However, you were still unsure what prompted such an idea from Jensen. It had only been three months since Tennessee, and though he assured you that he was in a much better place now, you suspected the loneliness he talked of still haunted him. Part of you had hoped there might be something more than him wanting to cement the friendship you had built over the past few months. There was obvious and natural chemistry, yet you doubted its existence or that the feeling was reciprocated, thinking perhaps your previous admiration of him falsely conjured it. Jensen’s voice broke the spell of your spiraling thoughts.

"Two Girls and a Cupcake.” He chuckled as he read a billboard.

You couldn’t help but snort. “You're making that up. There's no way that's real."

"Dude, I just saw the sign." He pointed back. "I'm not sharp enough to make up a pun that good."

"What exit?" You challenged, barely believing him.

"A left at this one." He recited confidently.

You pinched your lips together in a smile and pressed down on the gas, hoping to pass a string of cars before the exit, to call his bluff, or end up with a cupcake. A win-win either way. Jensen grabbed the "oh shit" handle from the unexpected burst of speed.

Four miles down the road, surrounded by nothing but fields and an occasional decrepit barn, there were certainly no cupcakes to be seen.

"Just admit it," you said. "You were thinking about porn."

"How many times do I gotta swear it was real?" He defended. "Maybe I read the exit wrong. Wait, what is that?"

A little one-horse town seemingly popped out of the middle of nowhere solely for his benefit. He pointed ahead to a pink abomination growing ever closer.

"Ha! Told ya!" He gloated as you pulled in.

"Oh, we have to get a picture with that guy." You grinned at the overly tacky pink sasquatch.

"After cupcakes," Jensen demanded, already halfway out the door.

You chuckled and got out as well, taking your time stretching. Jensen showed no chivalry in waiting for you and was already in the shop receiving the rundown on best sellers and personal favorites by the time you joined him. He was leaned over, peering into the display, closely analyzing each flavor and acknowledging the shopkeeper now and then with an uh-huh.

"Okay, okay." He straightened and finally decided. "They all sound amazing, but I think I'm sold on the chocolate creme pie."

He glanced at you for your reaction, and you had to look away to keep from bursting out with laughter from the horrible innuendo.

"And for you, sweetheart?" The shopkeeper asked as they packaged up Jensen's.

"Oh, um. Surprise me, dealer's choice." You couldn't possibly settle on one with such fun and unique flavors.

"How spontaneous of you." Jensen teased, and you responded in kind by sticking out your tongue.

The shopkeeper thanked you on your way out. In a single bite, Jensen devoured half the cupcake. He rolled his eyes and leaned back.

You chuckled. "That bad, eh?"

“Yes, so bad that I better take yours off your hands.” He said and lunged for you.

You squealed and shielded your cupcake. “I will be the judge, thank you very much.”

He chuckled and let you be in peace as you dug in.

“Oh, yeah.” You concluded. “I’m stopping here on the way back. Hey! Where are you going?” You chastised him as he opened the car door.

“Denver?” He questioned, but it came together once you pointed back to the sasquatch. “Oh, you were serious? I will, but only for a bite.” His tongue peeked out between his teeth in a grin.

You contemplated. “How big a bite are we talking?” This was a very debatable matter as he had finished his in three bites only.

He pinched his fingers together, indicating the tiniest amount.

“Picture first.” You demanded.

“Alright. Alright.” He gave in and got his phone out. “Bring it in.”

You embraced the pink behemoth on each side, smiling at the camera. He took a couple, and on the third, you simultaneously kissed the creature on the cheek. Jensen looked through the photos.

“Oh, that's a keeper.” He remarked and forwarded them to you.

You laughed as you viewed them. “Adorable.”

“Aren’t I?” He teased.

You playfully slapped his shoulder. “Bigfoot, not you.”

He rubbed his shoulder in jest. “Shoot. If I had known Jared was your type, I would have invited him along.”

“Jared is not my type.” It slipped out before your brain caught up with your mouth.

You blushed, wondering if it came out harsher than intended or, even more so, if it implied something else to Jensen. There had always been teasing and banter that bordered on the edge of flirting. And the first road trip didn’t count in which Jensen had his drunk goggles on and lower standards as he shamelessly tried to pick you up, but since then, it had just been a friendship. The same mental dialogue from earlier repeated, ending with a spiraling mantra to not get your hopes up.

Jensen swallowed a lump in his throat. “He’ll be devastated knowing he’s been passed up. Out of curiosity, what is your type?”

Your heart thudded in your chest. What did that mean? Was he fishing for something in particular, or did he generally want to know? You. You’re my type. Your mind shouted at him as if it could reach him telepathically. Someone who is kind, and smart, and funny, and thoughtful, and passionate… the list went on. It wasn't that Jared wasn't any of those things, but there was something different about Jensen that had always spoken to you. Thankfully, a filter had reappeared since your last slip.

You cleared your throat, realizing too much time had passed without an answer, and you held out your cupcake. “As promised.”

He took it, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was deeply contemplating your lack of response. That was until he took a bite and broke the concentration. He leaned his head back.

“God, how is that even better than the first one?” He shook his head in disbelief and went in for another bite.

“Hey! We said one!” You took it back from him after a brief playful struggle. “Now, let’s get this show on the road before your personal trainer puts a bounty on my head.”

“To hell with them, and self-control, and balance,” Jensen stated before heading back in and ordering a half dozen more for the road.

****

"I spy," Jensen drew out the words. "Something yellow."

"I swear to God, if it's corn again, I will turn this car around." You threatened.

Had one not been privy to the playful banter all day, they may have mistaken your threat as serious. Only three cupcakes remained in the backseat and were in danger of not surviving until night. Just as the trip started to drag, thus prompting the license plate game (in which you had fifteen states down already) and I Spy to emerge, the fourth album came on, bringing a rejuvenating spirit. Your levees broke, as they say, and any embarrassment from singing in front of Jensen vanished as you both sang out the opener Black Dog. Though the inhibitions only lasted so long. As Robert Plant’s voice made love to the microphone and John Paul Jone's fingers sweetly strummed the riff, your mind was transported to a seedy, sweaty motel room where you worked the man seated next to you with as much rhythm and passion. Jensen pulled you out as he grabbed your hand in tune with the lyrics. He let go, continuing to jam, unaware you had turned three shades darker as if through the touch, your thoughts could transfer to him. You wrung the steering wheel in a tight grip trying to think of anything but your body against his.

Despite the music, Jensen seemed determined to hold onto and win this game of I Spy. The problem was the options were limited to gray pavement, green grass, blue sky, or yellow corn. Granted, you could have both been more creative, but other things were taking precedence in your minds.

Jensen chuckled. “It’s not corn.”

“Is it the sun?” You bemoaned.

“Nope.”

“The lines on the road.” It was the only other thing it could possibly be. You hadn’t passed any signs recently, there was one other car on the road, but that was blue, and nothing inside the car looked yellow from your vantage point.

“Wrong again.” He said smugly.

“I give up. You win.” You easily gave up knowing Stairway to Heaven was playing next.

“It’s the corn’s husks.” He divulged.

“That is cheating.” Had you not been driving, you would have shoved him.

“Might I remind you,” He said, marking a tally. You bit back a smile and shook your head, knowing he was keeping score only to provoke you further. “When you said white, it wasn’t the clouds, it was specifically a jet trail, and I let it slide.”

“It’s completely a separate thing!” You argued. “Created by completely different methods and substances. Corn and corn husks are the same entity.”

“Okay, well, next time you have something with corn, I will make sure to replace it with husks, and then we will see how you feel.” He threatened.

You had lost, and you knew it.

“Shut up.” That was all you had to say, and in ending the conversation, you turned up the stereo for one of the most legendary songs in all of rock n’ roll.

“Despite the epicness of all that has come before,” Jensen stated as a few more songs passed to the slower acoustic melody of Going to California. “This is one of my favorites. Definitely in the top five.”

Lost in thought, he placed his hand on yours atop the gear stick, his thumb lazily stroking over your knuckles. Your heart stopped, toes curled, as you contained a scream internally. This wasn’t happening.

“You know, we should just skip over Denver and keep heading to Cali.” He thought aloud.

You gripped the steering wheel with your free hand, attempting to string together any semblance of comprehendible words. “Is that what you want?”

He sighed. “Of course, it’s what I want. What I should do is something entirely different.”

His hand left yours, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he meant something more than simply bailing on the convention.

“Like corn and corn husks.” You couldn’t help yourself.

He rolled his eyes in your direction, delightfully unamused, as if he wanted to give you something to really smirk about.

“I mean, if you need me to stage a kidnapping,” You proposed with false sincerity. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I would do that for you.”

He softly chuckled. “How kind of you.”

“So long as you promise not to press any charges.” You added.

“And miss the opportunity to see you in handcuffs,” Holy shit. He said it out loud. It just poured out like he was as inebriated as the night you first met. He desperately stumbled to fix it. “It would be hilarious. Just truly, the peak of comedy. And the mug shot after a week in a car and shitty motels. Oh, man.” He turned to look out the window and hide the blush that had crept into his cheeks, praying you didn’t catch on to where his mind initially went.

It worked. Yes, your thoughts went there briefly, but to you, it was obviously not what he intended. “It is on my bucket list to spend at least one night in jail.”

That shocked him out of his embarrassment. “Should I be concerned?”

You licked your lips, pondering. “Like, not for something nefarious. Maybe for protesting, embodying the Robin Hood persona, overdue library books, all those Limewire downloads coming back to haunt me, something like that.”

“Limewire? How dare you.” He teased. “Priacy is the biggest threat to my industry.” He pulled up his phone. “I’m calling the feds right now. Had I known…”

“Oh, no need; they already know. They deemed the six months I was grounded for destroying two family computers as time served.” Though the feds had not been involved, and other aspects exaggerated, you recalled how infuriated your parents had been. “And here I thought you would have run a background check.”

“Hey Siri,” He talked into his phone. “Remind me next time I decide to go ‘cross country with the nice girl I met at a bar three months ago to run a background check.”

“Alright.” The automated voice replied. “When do you want to be reminded?”

“Ah…. well, driving route 66 to the Vegas convention might be fun, so give or take five months.” He responded.

“Okay. In five months, you will be reminded the next time you decide to go ‘cross country with the nice girl you met at a bar three months ago to run a background check.” The monotone voice concluded.

Perhaps out of the stir-craziness of being stuck in a car and on the road for so many hours, you both erupted with laughter.

A while longer, and you were close to reaching your limit. The car was close to needing gas again, the thought of dinner was haunting your stomach, and your legs were pleading to be stretched. The problem was, there was nothing out here. You were somewhere between Des Moines and Omaha. Siri had outlived her usefulness as cell service was shotty at best. Even if there was food or shelter nearby, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. Zeppelin had fulfilled their purpose, and you had rescinded the music rule, letting Jensen shuffle through radio channels, as streaming was no longer available anyways.

Finally, a billboard popped up in the distance, signifying a spot of life. As Jensen changed the station, the words came into view just as a guitar strummed the opening of an unmistakable song. The universe could not have manifested a more perfect unison. Asia’s Heat of the Moment and an advertisement for Iowa’s most mysterious spot collided. Both of you were dumbfounded.

“It’s fucking fate.” You finally managed a whisper.

“No. Nope. Absolutely not.” Jensen was not having it. “That is how people get murdered.”

“It’s not even Tuesday.” You snapped. “And I need to get out of this goddamn car.”

“Do you want to end up a cold open for Supernatural? Cause this is how you do it.” He argued back.

You weren’t having it. You needed the break and fresh air. Ignoring his protests, you made your way for the exit.

“Look.” You pointed to the sign listing things nearby. “There’s a restaurant and motel nearby as well.”

“If we switched and got back on the highway, I could get us Omaha tonight. We’re not that far.” He reasoned.

“And we could drive straight through to Denver.” You argued back, turning down the country road, fields of corn still surrounding you. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the spontaneous one.”

“I know what you’re trying to do.” He deduced. “It’s not going to work.”

“You are welcome to stay in the car and scout out the town.” You offered. “But don’t think for a second I will tell you what the mystery is. That’s for paying customers only.”

“Do you recall the classic cinematic plot line where cannibals lure unsuspecting tourists to their town with, I don’t know, world-famous apple pie or a mystery spot where physics are defied? And just as the couple has a great time and is leaving the town, one of the locals strings out spikes on the road that pops all the tires; thus, an ensuing bloodsoaked gorefest follows.” He rambled.

“I can’t say I do.” You feigned. “Aside from a few one-offs, Psycho, The Shining, Silence of the Lambs (speaking of cannibals), horror isn’t my thing. So this should be an enlightening experience.” You looked over at him. “Don’t worry, Jensen, I’ll protect you.” The reassuring pat on his thigh sold it.

Now as you pulled up to the lot, it was you who was having second guesses. Whatever this place was now, it was undoubtedly a repurposed carnival funhouse. From the purple paint, the neon trim, and the huge sadistic alien head that loomed over the entrance. Signs were scattered everywhere, bright yellow advertising the astonishments that waited inside. Aside from your car, a rusted-out maroon Corsica was for sale that probably hadn’t been moved since the early 90s.

Though the car was at a stop, the engine still ran as you analyzed the site before you. Jensen’s smugness grew the more he sensed your hesitation.

“No one’s going to call you a coward if you turn around.” He goaded.

You glared at him, biting the inside of your cheek, and switched the engine off.

“I’m not scared.” You assured him. “It’s probably just a mirror maze that leads to pieces of a broken weather balloon they are pawning off as a spaceship.”

By all means, he seemed to convey with the wave of his hand, be my guest. Flustered, you got out of the car but immediately relished your choice. You stretched and breathed in the fresh air, delighted to no longer be in motion. With a rejuvenated determination that this mystery would be life-altering and reveal the darkest kept secrets in all of Iowa, you made your way up the rickety metal stairs and through the doors.

Jensen audibly sighed while running his hands through his hair, giving it a few minutes for you to turn back around. When you didn’t, he finally gave in.

“Fine.” He conceded to no one other than himself. “Let’s get this over with.”

The doors chimed above him as he entered the stale lobby, whose furnishings and carpet were clearly taken from a closing Blockbuster. The decor was in complete shambles, from botched taxidermy to cheap plasma ball lamps. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without the t-shirts and shot glasses proclaiming the survival of the mystery spot. A black curtain separated the lobby or ‘free museum’ from the rest of the attraction.

You beamed as Jensen found his way in. “Make that two tickets.” You clarified with reversed peace sign and handed payment to the cashier, a teenager so young it was questionable if they were even legally allowed to work or if this was a family affair they were forcibly roped into after school.

With not a shred of enthusiasm, the teen mumbled their way through a scripted spiel. “What you are about to experience has baffled scientists, confused archaeologists, and astonished physicists. Your purchase today has granted you access to a select group of individuals who hold the key to enlightenment. Prepare to be amazed and….”

Jensen caught off the monotone dialogue with the wave of his hand. “We get it, kid, thanks.”

They looked relieved to have been granted permission to stop. “It’s behind the curtain. Follow the arrows.”

They popped a plexiglass case open and flipped a large breaker, causing a loud pop as the building came to life. The sound of motors whirring spun in the distance, and the foundations seemed to rock from the sudden change. Dust scattered through the air from high-up shelves and door frames.

Once you caught your balance, Jensen mumbled, “The only mystery to be solved is how this building is still in one piece.”

You laughed and stepped from the light of the lobby into darkness. The black lights above illuminated the neon carpet pieces and painted edgings of the walls. Sure enough, a bright green arrow made from duck tape pointed you forward. Like children discovering laser tag for the first time, you looked at each other's outfits to see what pieces of clothing were affected by the black lights. You jolted as Taylor Swift blasted over the speakers, then abruptly stopped. Clearly, the teen had the wrong playlist up and running. After a moment, Taylor had been replaced with sounds, cycling through blowing wind, rain, and thunder. A crow cawed, and a voice cackled. A violin softly cried out notes barely audible with the competing ambiance. A fear crept in that you had accidentally signed up for a haunted house and not a mystery spot. You took a step back and bumped into Jensen’s solid frame.

He chuckled slightly and grabbed your shoulders, pushing you forward, one hesitant step at a time. “Oh, there is no turning back now. You’ve just crossed over into the twilight zone.” He said before humming out the theme song’s notes.

“You didn’t even want to do this.” You hissed back at him, still resisting him, as you came up to the first corner, ready for something to pop out at you. The moment he would relinquish forcing you forward, you'd be ready to turn and run out of there, or at the very least make him go first.

“I did try to warn you. Call it just desserts.” He whispered in your ear.

“Bastard.” You aimlessly swatted behind you.

You rounded the corner and sighed with relief as nothing came jumping, dropping, or rushing toward you. Simply another green arrow leading ahead where your reflections bounced off the walls.

“See.” He soothed. “Nothing to be afraid of, just a mirror maze, as you predicted."

You sighed a breath and stepped forward without his prompting.

"Jesus!" He shouted as something flew across the hall.

Simultaneously, you forcefully backed into him. Jensen wrapped his arms protectively around you and took a few cautious steps back. The thing stopped swinging, and as your eyes adjusted to see it in the dark, laughter consumed you both. It was a tattered pinata in the form of a UFO. A piece of gray tissue paper floated to the floor from a growing patch of plain cardboard underneath.

“You were so fucking scared.” Jensen placed his hand over his torso, trying to catch his breath.

“So!” You said defensively. “You were just as scared.”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” He lied with enough conviction; he convinced himself as well. “I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes, not buying it for a second. “Then I implore you to lead the way,” You gestured forward with your outstretched hand. “Oh, brave one.”

He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as if he was getting into character. “Fine.” He agreed. “I got this.” His voice seemed to deepen, and he reached out his hand to you. “You coming, sweetheart?”

The asshole dared to seal it with a wink. And despite yourself, a blush warmed your cheeks, and your toes curled momentarily, but your shyness did not stop you from taking his hand in yours.

As Jensen led the way, he let out a general warning to anyone in the nearby vicinity. “If anyone is running around or jumping out in a green suit, I will not be held liable for when they get punched square in the face.”

You snickered. “I don’t think they have the budget for scare actors, Jensen.”

You came up to the first wall. The mirrors distorted the way forward. One was smudged with fingerprints which made it obvious the wrong path, but for the others, Jensen reached out his free hand and felt the way forward.

It was a short maze, yet you still managed to run face-first into one mirror. After the maze came another jump scare. Both of you held your breath and squinted your eyes as if not wanting to tip the other off it had gotten you, yet the grip on each other’s hands tightened, giving it away. This led to the next section; a room filled with punching bags made to look like rockets that you had to squirm through. It smelled of sweaty socks and Cheetos. You mastered the slanted room, where you had to walk on an angle to traverse, and featured an old aquarium filled with green algae with the shadowed, mysterious blob floating inside.

You both paused at the ladder, plunging into a pool-sized ball pit. Moons, planets, and glow-in-the-dark stars decorated the ceiling above. Foam UFO saucers and blow-up alien dolls accompanied the balls in the pit. There was no way to walk around or over it; the only way was through. And you thought the stench from the punching bags was bad. But you had made it this far. You weren’t going to give up now.

Jensen forwent the ladder and jumped straight. You took the more delicate approach, sliding in inch-by-inch as if trying to adjust to cold water. Once you were finally in the pit, the balls came up to your waist. There were probably rogue toddlers lost in here that haunted the place and bit unsuspecting tourists’ ankles.

“This is disgusting,” Jensen complained, wading through with his arms raised as if to reduce the spread of bacteria. “I swear to god, if I step on a diaper, I’m suing.”

“I’m taking the longest, hottest shower tonight.” You agreed, stating that you needed to be disinfected.

He turned back to look at you. His eyes almost glowed as they raked over you.

“To burn my skin off.” You clarified.

Jensen opened his mouth, but then he swallowed and held his breath. He was channeling too much of Dean to make it through this hellhole, and he couldn’t trust what words would come out. Besides, he had already let several comments slide today, and that was when he wasn’t competing with his other half.

“Stop gaping and get a move on,” You threw two balls at him, which he caught with ease. “Or should I remind you what you are currently festering in?”

But then you saw the balls in his hand, and you spit out a laugh, nearly doubling over, but thankfully stopped yourself from going fully under. They were both blue.

He held back his laughter, but only for a second, as he said, “Very mature,” and then chucked them back at you before making a mad dash to escape the pit of disgust.

It just made you laugh even harder at how ridiculous he looked, failing to gain any speed or traction. After a painstakingly long ‘swim,’ you both made it out. After spending a full day in the car, you thought it would have been impossible to feel more grimy. The ball pit had proved you wrong.

As you wiped yourself down and readjusted your clothing, you came up on a bridge through a dark tunnel. The tunnel was lit with blue lights and neon streaks of pink and green. As Jensen crossed the threshold, the tunnel spun in a vortex, and he stumbled. You knew it was going to be a problem.

You took a step forward, and your ankle gave out, and nausea crept in.

“Wait, Jensen, please.” You complained and reached out to him.

He could sense the change in your tone and wasn’t going to give you shit about it. “Come here.”

You took another step forward and grabbed the railing for dear life as your knees buckled. You tensed and shook your head no. There was a greenish look to you, but he couldn’t tell if it was only because of the lights. Jensen came to you slowly and leaned against the rail, struggling himself.

“Put your head down and hold on to me. It’ll be over quickly.” He assured.

You buried your face between his shoulder blades, and despite the day, he smelled amazing, like cedar with a hint of rosemary. Jensen took it one step at a time, feeling the effect too, but eventually, he got you both to the other side. You both took a deep breath at the end.

“You feeling okay?” He rested his hand on your shoulder and took you in, searching for any lasting effects.

“Yeah. Thank you.” You softly said, slightly embarrassed. “I hate those things. Had I known we would have had to cross the seven circles of hell to get to whatever this mystery is, I would have reconsidered.”

He patted the back of your head, relieved to have your snarkiness back. “You’re not admitting I was right, are you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Never.”

In this room, spotlights highlighted text and pictures featuring crop circles and a crash site from the darkness. And in the middle of the room was an opaque silver box with a viewing hole where blue light shone.

“Alright, let’s see what all this was about.” Jensen was the first to peer in. “Oh, you are not going to believe this, Scully.” He stepped aside so you could take a look.

“You are definitely the Scully of this situation. I want to believe.” You corrected.

You stepped back and pinched your lips together, containing a smile.

“Was it worth it?” He asked.

“Every penny.”

****

Though you were ready for dinner, you both agreed finding a hotel and cleaning up was the higher priority. Cell service was still abysmal, so with directions from the mystery spot employee, down a ways and a few turns later, you found the motel that was advertised on the highway sign.

The single-level motel had white siding, green shutters, and a matching green roof. Porch swings hung between every room. A courtyard decorated with mosaic tiles, flowering bushes, and patio furniture suited for a French cafe separated the motel from the parking lot. The property sat on the edge of a lake where trees and shrubs secluded this alcove from the fields around it. A fire pit and kayaks were in the green grass that bordered the water.

“This is actually really nice.” Jensen sighed with delight.

After checking in, showering, and changing, the last thing you wanted to do was get back in the car. Ordering pizza and letting your feet soak in the lake off the dock was the only thing on your mind. Yet the hostess who checked you in raved about a nearby bar visitors had to check out. It wasn’t that far, there was plenty of daylight left, and they featured some local craft beer Jensen was eager to try.

The hostess had failed to mention that this was not only a bar; it was a line-dancing bar. The wooden frame was decorated to the brim with antique farmhouse equipment, country attire, awards, and pictures of dance leagues that had won competitions throughout the year. It was almost as if Cracker Barrel and Dave & Busters’ had a love child. It was packed to the brim with locals dancing and drinking. Your table overlooked the center stage, and somehow they all could interpret the caller shouting out dance moves over music featuring Brooks & Dunn, The Village People, and Alan Jackson.

Though it was loud, it was a great setting for people-watching, and after a full day of conversation, your brain was thankful for the distraction. After the cupcake debacle, Jensen opted for a salad though the cheeseburger was calling his name. He also had a small flight of the local craft brews, his favorite being a wheat ale featuring orange peels and cardamom. There was also a crushable IPA, but other than those two, you agreed the others were just meh.

“You going to give the dance floor a spin after food?” Jensen asked, moving around the food on his plate.

You laughed. “Oh no, I have two left feet and am prone to injuries. Though if you are looking for a partner, there is a girl at the bar who has been strongly admiring the back of your head for a solid fifteen minutes. Don’t look!” But as he did, you reached over and grabbed one of the beers he showed no interest in.

“Ah, she is not my type.” He looked back, playfully scowling at you momentarily as he realized part of his flight was missing.

“And what is your type?” You asked as you sipped on it.

“A question which you never answered,” He pointed out. “Don’t think I forgot.”

“Having a type is so limiting.” You concluded and threw your napkin over your unfinished food.

“I’ll give you mine if you give me yours.” He goaded.

You leaned back, considering. “I think some of the most important things are someone I can laugh with, but also someone who can deep dive into serious conversation, whether that is personal or academic. Someone who shows interest in my hobbies and passions and someone who pushes me to explore ones I hadn’t considered. It’s way more about the natural chemistry than physical appearance.”

“Indulge me anyways,” He requested. “I’m sure you had a checklist at one point.”

“Of course. What kind of person doesn’t create a checklist at some point in their life?” You asked and he snickered. “Let’s see… I have to go back to middle school… plays guitar was high up on the list, has a car, green eyes, freckles.” You cleared your throat and quickly added. “Dark, long, curly hair, loves animals, has that lower abdomen V thing.” You signaled with your hands, and Jensen laughed. “Shut up.”

“Those are actually very hard to get and maintain.” He commented.

“You asked for the list; I gave you the list.” You defended. When he didn’t say anything further, you questioned, “What about you? It’s your turn.”

“I agree with you. Compatibility and the relationship part matter more than the physical attraction. It’s hard to get out of that mindset sometimes, being in an industry where that is such an important aspect to the point where it sets unrealistic standards. But at the end of the day, when I am looking for someone to settle down with, I expect to get old, wrinkly, gray, and saggy. I’d much rather do that with someone I share a deep friendship with rather than some chick it barely works with but is on the runway now, and we’re together partially because we look good in pictures together.” He ranted.

“While I appreciate and respect that answer, you are totally copping out.” You challenge.

“Ah.” He groaned. “Humor is up there, someone who will laugh with me. Someone who is kind but can also dish it out. Someone who is a good listener but is also open with me. Mutual trust.”

“Again, all lovely, mature traits. Where is your middle school diary?” You prodded, biting your lip.

“Fine, fine. Must love dogs, could ride a horse bareback, drove a Jeep Wrangler, would want to go surfing together, gets along with my friends, and looks like Kelly Kapowski from Saved by the Bell. Satisfied?”

You smiled widely. “Very much so.”

He stood up, “Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face and come dance with me.”

He held out his hand to you, and this time you did not hesitate or push back. Spending time with the man was the highlight of your life. You’d follow him anywhere and take every opportunity that came your way.

Jensen led you to the dance floor, and as the group reset for a new song, you slid into the back of the line. The floor was filled with old and young alike. This one little place brought the whole community together. Some wore cowboy hats and boots, others in casual wear, and a few of the older women dressed up for an evening out.

As the announcer set up and called instructions for the next song that you wouldn’t have understood even if the ancient sound system didn’t muffle it, you leaned over to Jensen.

“You better not say something cliche like ‘follow my lead’ or something.” You warned.

“Oh, hell no.” He agreed. “You are completely on your own, and it is going to be hilarious.”

You were tempted to resort to teasing violence when the music started, and you both stared at each other in disbelief as others in the crowd cheered with anticipation. You weren’t sure how or why, but Fate did have her hand in this day somehow.

“I hate this fucking song.” You muttered. “You can’t line dance to this song.”

“You can line dance to any song. Especially our song.” He smiled.

“Don’t…” You held out a finger.

But the speaker began the count “5, 6, 7, 8” as Neil Diamond began to sing about his sweet Caroline.

In a panicked flurry, you watched the others in front of you and tried to mirror their steps. The terms being called out, such as walk, sugarfoot, and rock-recover, had no meaning to you. Jensen picked it up easily, adding a certain air of swagger to just the basic moves. It seemed once you had a pattern down, they changed it on you. You bumped into Jensen and then the person next to you. Realizing you were not going to master the steps anytime soon, Jensen grabbed you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, and swayed with you, generally keeping up with the direction of the room but lost in your own little world.

After another round of drinks increasing your confidence, five more songs where you became somewhat familiar with the caller’s instructions, and plenty of laughter from stepping on each other’s feet, you finally called it a night and headed back to the motel.

Taking advantage of the last rays of daylight before the sun set over the horizon, you lazily sat on the porch swing. The haunting and lonely call of a loon echoed over the lake. With your nose in a book, you gently push back and forth with one foot.

“Watch ya reading?” Jensen asked as you felt the weight of the bench shift as he sat down next to you.

Literally, men always picked the worse part of books to interrupt. Nearing the end of the chapter, you turned so he could see the cover but that you could continue reading.

He sounded out the title “Remarkably Bright Creatures” and then asked, “Is it any good?”

You slipped the postcard you used as a bookmark back into the book and set it down. “It’s so cute. This octopus named Marcellus is helping this older woman solve the murder of her son. Think A Man Called Ove meets Finding Nemo meets Poirot.”

He softly chuckled. “I really only know Finding Nemo, but that sounds like quite the combination.”

You looked out over the lake and saw a large family, or perhaps even two, who started up the fire pit and began roasting marshmallows for smores.

“You wanna get cozy by the fire?” You nodded in their direction.

“Nah. Probably turn on a game or something.” He rubbed the back of his neck and then settled his arm on the back of the bench, grazing your shoulder. “I just came to check on you before I turn in for the night.”

His soft green eyes caught the last bits of sun before it finally set, and the sky was left a hue of pink and purple. The porch lights flickered on. A kid screamed with excitement as a game of tag ensued near the water's edge.

“So,” You started. “First day of the road trip. Success?”

“Way better than I could have hoped for.” He beamed.

“Mystery spot and all?” You reminded him.

Mystery spot and all.” He confirmed.

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” You asked.

He scoffed. “Agenda? Wherever the road takes us.”

You nodded. “I can live with that. So long as we have a few adventures like today. You truly had fun?” A bit of insecurity was bubbling up.

“Y/N.” He called your name softly.

His gaze danced between your eyes and lips. That sensation of him wrestling between what he should and shouldn’t do struck you again as it had several times already today. Your eyes flickered to his lips, and your heart thudded against your chest. He had the slightest scar just above the cupid's bow. His hand wove through your hair as he leaned in. His lips were soft and gentle against yours, his eyelashes brushed against your skin, and still, your soul ascending with his to another plane of existence. It lasted mere seconds. When he pulled away, the loon cried out in the distance.

“Good night, Y/N. See ya tomorrow.”

And just like that, he got up and left for his room while you sat paralyzed, heart fluttering inside your chest.

---

Part 5