#you have to make sure your posture is right and your hold on the gun is right and that you're looking through the sights correctly

[tooies]

listen as someone who has actually fired a real gun before i can tell you that it is not actually very easy to hit a small target from far away. it is conspiracy theorizing to think that the fact that the shooter just grazed his ear rather than hitting him directly means that it's more likely that it was staged to get people (who were already going to vote for him) to vote for him than it is that the shooter just fucking missed because real life is not actually videogames and aiming a gun is actually very hard

[sanguineterrain]

Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up

idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon

jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words

****

"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."

"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.

"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."

"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.

But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.

"You haven't visited in a while," you say.

You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.

"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."

And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.

And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.

But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.

Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.

"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.

This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.

Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."

You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.

"Do you even want to see me?"

He tilts his head. Dangerous.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"

Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.

The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.

Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?

He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.

"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.

Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.

You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.

But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.

"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.

"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.

"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."

Your eyes widen. "Wh—"

His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.

His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.

"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."

"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."

He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.

"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."

This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.

"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?

Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.

"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.

He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."

Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.

"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."

"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"

"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."

You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.

He is still. You have made him still.

"I'm yours too," you say.

He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"

"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.

"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."

Your heart is still. He has made it still.

"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."

"I do. I'm yours."

His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.

"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."

But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.

"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."

His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.

"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."

"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."

"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."

"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."

Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."

"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."

[anticapitalistclown]

clownie can i request some lookism men fav positions

add Gun if you don't mind ty~

Sure!

asked a friend who doesn't watch lookism to choose 4 men so we have this (she chose Beolgu at first lmao) (James girlies you're only lucky she has chosen him bc she's a GD stan)

Gun, James, Jake, Vasco and Vin Jin favorite positions, smut headcanons

Jong Gun: doggy style

He is a vicious man that would never reject any way of sex, he says he has no favorites, yet you always find yourself on all fours, his grip forcing you to exaggerate the arch; sometimes with your face against the pillow and his hand grabbing the back of your neck if you're tired.

There's something about watching the curve of your back, how your ass slaps against his pelvis, how his dick gets shallowed inside you that gets him all riled up. With this position he always finds that spot.

If you turn your face to see him with your cute eyes and that expression covered in pleasure, man has to pray in order to not cum right at the spot.

James Lee: missionary

The old missionary is his favorite, it allows him to take control of you and his pace, and gives him the chance to show adoration of your body.

He loves kissing you while having you in a mating press, your legs spread being held by him, his pace being monstrously and toe-curling satisfying, your brain already melted while he praises you between kisses.

You know he loves being on top of you, how tiny you feel under him, and you always see that exited look he gives every time he is inside you, how his eyes secretly travel down to see how you're taking him, how he makes that bulge on your stomach, that sight makes him harder if it could even be possible.

Jake Kim: cowgirl

He is not someone who thinks much of sex, so at first he just did the classic postures, old missionary and not much more than that... Yet, the day you just got on top of him and rode it like a champ, you changed his whole perspective.

He loves when you take control, how you use him for your pleasure, the way your body moves on top of him, if it were for him, you could use him all day. His grip on your hips is strong, Jake always helps you to continue for a bit more, encouraging you with words of praise.

Although you're on control, keeping a man like him still would need some chains, he can't help but kiss you, having his hands teasing you or holding at your hips, helping you set with a harder pace.

Vasco (Euntae Lee): spooning

Like Jake, he just isn't someone who thinks much of sex, Euntae just follows the basic and instinctive, the position is the last he thinks of while making love to you. Yet he would be lying if he said nothing comes up to his mind when a favorite position is asked, there's something about spooning that makes him hornier.

Maybe it's because of the intimacy and the romance it holds, how his hands cup every erogenous part of your body, how his lips kiss your neck and feel your moans, how you tangle your legs with his and when he places his hand on your lower stomach feeling himself inside you, he just loves the access he has on your body.

While making love to you, he also likes when you command him to touch you, both praising each other, showing how much appreciation you have for one another. After you both reach your high, he stays in the position, cuddling you with care.

Vin Jin: full nelson

He might show a rude appearance, yet, on the intimacy he was a bit scared of hurting you, that lasted until you both got more confident with sex. You knew he is strong and has knowledge and experience with wrestling so you just got the idea of trying a position

A position he LOVES, he loves showing you his strength, he loves having you crushed in his arms, he loves pleasuring you and most important, the fucked up face you make when you become too overstimulated.

It's not really a position you both usually do, he rather prefers to keep it for special occasions, especially when you don't have anything to do for the next days so you can recover.

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | survive

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 4.7k

warnings: 18+! not for minors! please please please read the warnings and skip this one if you're uncomfortable with the subject matter.

episode eight reimagining with the same hard-hitting themes: blood, violence, cannibalism, sexual assault, killing, abduction, vomit. reader takes the place of ellie. angst. hurt/comfort. no happy ending as requested because i wasn't sure that could exist in these circumstances, but there is now a part two where joel takes care of reader and the fic ends on a lighter note.

prompt: Hi! Would love to request something for Joel Miller 🥰 Angst but with a happy ending, after seeing episode 8 I thought maybe reader is with Joel and Ellie, but this time Ellie stays back to keep an eye on Joel so reader gets kidnapped and is the one Joel basically comes back from the dead to save? hahshxdjfbf I just imagine them reuniting and UGH 🥹❤️ Feel free to ignore this if inspiration doesn’t strike!

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

You’re terrified of losing Joel. So terrified that instead of watching him shiver and sweat on an old, bloodied mattress as his infection spreads, you opt to go out and hunt. It isn’t solely selfish. You need food, and Ellie needs to rest. At least this way you’re doing something productive rather than waiting for a miracle. 

Still, it’s difficult to concentrate on anything but the knot in your stomach, the one that keeps asking “what if?” What if Joel doesn’t make it? How will you survive past that grief for long enough to keep Ellie safe? How will you go back to Jackson and tell Tommy that his brother is gone?

You’re lost in those thoughts when you hear the crunching of snow, and you try to shake them away, readying Joel’s shotgun as you search for the source. 

A deer. It’s so beautiful that for a second, you forget that it’s supposed to be your next meal. You’d forgotten beauty still existed in a world so broken, forgotten that nature can still be kind. 

But humans can’t. Not if you want to survive; not if you want Joel to survive. 

You take a deep breath. Adjust your posture. Shoot. 

The bullet doesn’t hit where you want it to; where you know you should have been aiming if only you weren’t so distracted. The deer darts away. Whispering a curse, you follow the trail of blood —

And find more than you bargained for. Two men wait with the dying deer at their feet. They look… clean. Comfortable. Not people struggling to find food or clothing. You raise your gun again immediately, and theirs point back at you. 

“Put your guns down,” you order, trying to sound braver than you feel. You did alright before Joel came into your life, but it’s been a while since you’ve been alone and it’s hard to summon the strength that used to come so easy. 

“You first,” the darker-haired man says, narrowing his gaze. 

The fairer man glances warily before slowly lowering his. Good. At least one of them is smart. 

“Not going to happen. On the ground. Kick it away.” You shift on your feet, gripping your gun tightly and readying your finger on the trigger. You don’t enjoy killing people, but you will if you have to. If it means getting back to Joel and Ellie. 

“James,” the unarmed man says, calm authority firm in his voice. The one in charge, then. “Do as she says.” He holds up his hands in surrender as his friend, James, finally puts his gun away. “We mean no trouble. We’d just like to talk.”

“So talk,” you bite out, making no move to lower your own gun. 

“Alright.” His breath is visible in the cool air, nose pink and runny. “My name is David. This is James. We’re from a town just south of here.”

“Good for you. Maybe you should go back now.”

An amused smirk twitches at his mouth. “Thing is, we have a lot of mouths to feed down there, and this deer… it would keep us going for a week. Maybe two.”

“Shame it isn’t yours,” you say.

A short sigh escapes him. “Right. It is a shame. But if I could offer you warm shelter and good food, a welcoming community, why couldn’t we share?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not interested in negotiating.”

“With all due respect, ma’am… as far as I can tell, you’re all alone in these woods. There’s no reason why you have to be.”

It’s clear the other man, James, isn’t in on David’s kind offer. His mouth is pursed in a thin line, jaw grinding as though he’s holding back from saying something. Welcoming community, my ass. 

Still, an idea strikes. You need something else more than you need the deer, and if this town has supplies… “You have medicine in this town of yours?”

David hesitates before dipping his head. “We do.”

“Antibiotics?”

“Yes…”

Hope swells in you for the first time since Joel was injured. 

“If you put the gun down, we’d be much more open to discussing what it is you need,” he continues. “Please?”

Gulping, you slowly lower your gun — but you keep it in your hand just in case, stomach still filled with unease. Not every settlement will be like Jackson, and there’s something… off about these two. 

“If you get me that medicine, you can have the deer.”

“We can do you one better. We have a nurse down in the village who can help you with your injury. If you just come with us…”

“No,” you say. “You’ll bring the medicine here, to me.”

Another strange smile. “You’ll be much more likely to survive the winter if you let us help you.”

Impatient, you raise your gun again. “Bring it or stop wasting my damn time.”

David lifts his hands again. “Okay. Alright. James, go and fetch what the lady needs.” 

“David—” James begins to protest, but is quickly cut off. 

“Go on now.” 

Reluctantly, he does, and then it’s just the two of you. 

“I know a place you can get warm,” he offers. “It’s just through the trees. An old greenhouse. No need to wait out here in the cold.”

It makes your gut twist, how he seems to be determined to get you moving, to take you out of these woods. And there’s a glint in his eye, something untrustworthy there — even his right-hand man seemed to see it. Nobody follows orders like that with pure reasons. He’s… scared, or at least threatened. 

“I’m fine just here.”

“Okay. What’s your name?”

“I’m the one holding a gun, which means I’ll be the one asking questions. How many people are there in this town of yours?”

“Forty. Like I said, there’s room for one more. Perhaps it was God’s will, us meeting today.”

Oh, good, you think. He’s a God botherer. You didn’t particularly subscribe to religion before the world turned to shit, and you sure as hell have better things to do than pray now. 

“Unless you’re not alone.” His voice seems to lower as though he knows something, and you stiffen instinctively. “Is the injury yours?”

“It’s none of your business.”

He no longer seems to be staring down the barrel of your gun, but right into you. “Because a few of our men had some trouble a few days ago. A man, a woman, and a young girl. Man was thought to be badly injured, you see. If he lived… well, I’d imagine that kinda wound would be susceptible to a nasty infection.”

He knows. He always knew. The raiders you crossed paths with, the ones who hurt Joel… 

You no longer feel like the one holding the gun. You feel like the deer bleeding on the snow between you. Prey. Still, you set your chin. “I don’t know what you mean. I travel alone.”

“See, I believe you, but the thing is… my friend, James… he’s not so certain. I’d imagine that once he comes back with that medicine, he’ll be rounding up a few men to go hunting for these people. If what you’re saying is true, I wouldn’t want you to be caught in the middle of that. That’s why it’s much safer you just come with me now, see?” 

Your upper lip curls into a warning snarl, finger twitching on the gun’s trigger. But if you kill him, you won’t get Joel’s medicine. You’ll lose him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” 

“Hmm.” He debates this. “There’s a third option.”

“Not interested.”

“I think you are,” he pushes. “I think you’re one of them, and I think you’re trying to help your man. Very noble, but strange. You don’t seem a good match. You’re so… young, so calm, and from what I hear, he’s dangerous. Ruthless, even. A cold-blooded killer. Maybe if you come into town with me now, we can arrange for that medicine to be delivered without my brigade charging in and doing some damage. There’s a place for you. Your daughter, too. You don’t need to be tied to him anymore.”

You want to scoff, or else laugh in his face. Does he believe you’re that simple, that stupid? Does he believe you’re a fucking damsel in need of saving?

Anger simmers in you at the thought. “I think it’s about time you shut up.” You point the barrel at his head now, right between his brows.

He doesn’t balk, doesn’t tremble, doesn’t so much as blink, and you’re beginning to understand. He’s the type of man who uses religion to veil whatever monster lies beneath. He isn’t some small-town do-gooder, though he might believe it. 

You dread to think what he might be capable of. 

“I think it’s about time you drop your weapon.” The voice doesn’t belong to David. It comes from behind along with the feeling of cold metal against the back of your skull. You risk a glance over your shoulder to see the man from before, James. You should have heard him creep up, should have seen, but you were so focused on the one in front of you.

Your heart thunders as you realise you might not get out of it this time. 

“We only want you to come with us,” David says, eyes round with feigned innocence. “That’s all. We don’t want to hurt you.”

“The gun to my head says otherwise. What would God say about this?” you retort, dripping venom because it’s all you have left. 

A strange sadness crosses David’s face. “It didn’t have to be this way.”

Before you can pull the trigger, something heavy slams into your skull, and then darkness swallows you whole. 

***

You wake in a cage, the taste of blood on your tongue and your wrists bound by rope. David is on the other side of the bars in what looks to be a kitchen, utensils hanging on the wall. Great butchers’ knives and cleavers wink at you in the watery daylight. You go cold with fear, crawling to the furthest corner of the cage. 

“Let me go,” you say. “Let me go!” 

“I’m sorry. It’s for your own good,” he says. “You were corrupted, but I can help you see the light again.”

“Why are you doing this?” You’re choking on a sob, thoughts of Joel and Ellie running through your mind. What if they found them? Joel is in and out of consciousness and Ellie can’t fight on her own. 

David curls his fingers around the bars. “It’s God’s will. I was meant to meet you today. This is where you’re supposed to be.”

“In a fucking cage?” you spit, voice echoing around the kitchen. You pull at the rope until your skin splits, crying out when you realise this is it. There’s no way out. You’re trapped, and you have no idea what this man truly wants with you. 

“This is merely a precaution,” he says. “I was wrong about you before. You are dangerous too. You have a dark heart, just like me. If you would just surrender, you could be part of this community.”

You squeeze your eyes closed, clamping down on a plea. You doubt it will do any good. Still, tears roll down your cheeks. “Fuck you,” you whisper. 

“You don’t understand yet. You will.” David takes a step back, and somehow the prospect of him leaving you here causes your stomach to turn to water. 

“Don’t do this,” you say. But he walks away with a glint in his eye that promises he will be back, and you’re left alone. 

Dizziness rattles through you as you pull yourself onto your feet, testing the sturdiness of the bars in hopes you’ll find a weak spot. But it’s padlocked closed and the screws are in tightly —

Something catches your eye, pale and fleshy on the kitchen tiles. 

An ear. 

In the kitchen. 

You vomit without warning as it all comes together. You wonder if the community even knows that their leader feeds them people. Wonder who was last in this cage and how long it took for them to become a meal. 

You scramble against the ropes again and pray — not to whatever fucked up God David worships, but someone — that you find a way out. 

***

“Joel!” Ellie shakes him frantically and finally he comes to. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his face drawn and pale, but he finally ate something earlier and she’s been keeping him hydrated as he drifts in and out of sleep.

Now, he frowns and hums in question.

“Y/N isn’t back. She didn’t come back, and now people are here.”

The sound of shuffling outside is only growing louder, and she keeps her voice to a whisper as fear grips her. It’s not like you to go more than two hours without checking in, even if you haven’t caught anything for dinner yet. That four hours have passed means something is wrong, and Ellie doesn’t know what to do, how to find you. She needs Joel. She needs you. 

“What?” Joel struggles to sit up, the mattress groaning under his weight as he clutches his injured stomach. But he’s alert, awake, and that’s better than he’s been in days. 

“She isn’t back,” Ellie says again, voice trembling now. “Someone’s here, Joel. They know about us.” 

Understanding clears through the fog in his eyes slowly, and he looks up as he hears the floorboards creak above. “Shit,” he curses, dragging himself slowly to his knees. Ellie watches, pulling out her own gun. “Hide somewhere. Let me deal with it.”

He’s in no fit state to deal with anything, but when Ellie protests, he shushes her and orders her to do as he says, so she does. And as he readies himself for a fight he can’t win, panic rushes through him. You’re not back. Somebody is here. 

He’s failed again, or at least is about to, and this time it’s you he’s afraid to lose. 

He summons that anger when the silhouette slowly stalks down the stairs. Summons it a lot more when he’s throwing an arm around the idiot’s neck to squeeze the life out of him. 

***

Joel has forgotten his injury. He’s forgotten anything but you; the thought of you alone, in danger, afraid. His fingers curl into fists at his side, and when the attacker finally rouses, he orders Ellie to leave the room. He doesn’t want her to see what comes next; who he becomes when he’s trying to protect the people he loves. 

Nausea twists through him, but it mingles with anticipation. Some sick excitement. He’s good at being violent. Better at being vengeful. 

“Where is she?” he asks, voice just steady enough to be assertive. 

The attacker mumbles something, and Joel’s patience quickly dwindles. 

“Who are you?” he asks, louder now. 

The attacker shakes his head. Doesn’t want to play. 

Joel brandishes his knife. 

The attacker’s eyes widen in fear as he presses the point into his finger, ignoring the throbbing in his stomach. “You want to do this the hard way?”

“I'm not telling you anything.”

Joel tilts his head and clenches his jaw. Then in one swift motion, he’s gripping the arms of the chair the attacker is tied to, quivering with anger as he towers over him. “Last chance.”

The attacker purses his lips, and Joel steps back, watching him sink in relief — relishing in that false sense of security. Then he throws the first punch, the impact of fist to jaw singing through his bones. He shakes out his hand, punches again. Blood splatters, but he goes again twice more just for good measure, growing weaker with every blow. He stops when he realises that, knowing he needs to conserve his energy to get to you. 

“Where the fuck is she?” he bellows.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” 

He plunges the knife into the attackers knee, the sound of bone crunching and flesh squelching as blood dribbles down his jeans and the attacker cries out. That’s when he begins to beg. That’s when Joel knows he’ll tell him anything. 

“Alright!” he’s whimpering. “Alright, please!” 

“Tell me where she is or I swear to god, I’ll pop you’re fucking kneecap off.” Joel drives the blade deeper, thirsty now. Desperate. He can’t do this without you. He needs you safe. If he finds out you’re hurt…

“With David!” he blubbers. “She’s with David in town!” 

“What tooooown?” (oh, you thought I wouldn’t?)

“Silver Lake!” 

“Who the fuck is David and what does he want with her?” 

“He…” the man chokes on his own sobs again, and Joel tugs on the knife, earning a piercing scream. “I don’t know what he wants, okay? He’s the leader! He… he took to her, I don’t know!” 

A chill crawls down Joel’s spine and his vision blurs as he pauses. His blood-drenched fingers tremble, and he doesn’t know how to make them stop. “What do you mean, he took to her?” 

The man spits out blood. “He likes her. Wants her to join him. I don’t know, man. I don’t know. I told you everything.” 

Joel wants to tear him apart then and there, but he pulls out his map, yanking the knife from the man’s knee to put the hilt in his mouth. The attacker howls, tears streaking down his cheeks. Joel wants to tell him he’ll do a lot fucking worse if he finds you harmed. He wants to say a lot of things, but cotton fills his mouth and he needs to find you. He needs to stop wasting time. “Point it out to me.”

“It’s not a real town. It’s just a fucking community. I don’t know.”

Joel grips the man’s collar, and his voice falls deathly low. “Point it out to me or I’ll make sure your other knee matches.”

It’s enough motivation for the attacker to pinpoint a spot. His blood stains the map, highlighting a small valley between the forest and mountains. 

Joel puts the map in his back pocket and slits the man’s throat before he can beg for his life. He’s not feeling merciful today. 

***

David comes back for you an hour later. “Have you reconsidered?” 

You only glare at him, your wrists bloody and your eyes gritty from so many shed tears. To your surprise, he unlocks the cage. Despite your better instinct, you stay seated, stay calm. You won’t get out of this if you try to run now. He has the upper hand, and you’ll let him have it, hoping his arrogance, his underestimation of you, will be his downfall. 

“You must be hungry,” he says. “Come. Let me show you what I can offer.”

Shakily, you rise from the ground. “Will you at least untie me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He leads you out of your kitchen. When he’s not looking, you lean your back to the table and snatch an abandoned knife, slipping it up your sleeve. 

The front of the building is laid out like an old, cheap restaurant and bar, candles burning and booths lining the windows. 

“I’m glad you’ve calmed down,” he says. “Now we’ll get a chance to know each other properly.”

Slowly, you begin to saw at the rope with the knife as he leads you to a booth. Two plates are set at the table, a candle lit in the middle, and you think about the ear on the floor. Wonder if the meat in the stew is not animal, not your deer. You want to throw up again, but you swallow down the bile in favour of relief: the rope has snapped. You keep your hands behind your back as you shuffle in your seat, trying to avoid looking at the meal. The smell of it makes your stomach turn. 

“What do you want from me?” you ask finally. 

David places a napkin on his lap. “I’m showing you hospitality. Hospitality you haven’t earned, might I add. Where is your gratitude?”

“Where the fuck is my medicine?”

Without warning, he stands and slaps you, and you can’t control your anger as the sting prickles along your cheekbone. You throw your plate at him, the food splattering his face and staining his shirt, and then you run. 

A mistake. He hauls you back quickly, and the two of you topple to the floor as he slams your wrist down, forcing the knife away. He pins your hands and then straddles you, and you know what comes next. You know, and you shouldn’t, and this isn’t happening. 

“You need to be taught some manners,” he croons, taking your chin in his hands. “A girl like you… you need to learn how to submit. Especially when we’re married. But don’t worry.” He leans down as you squirm, whispering into your ear, “We have time for that.”

“No!” You shout, slapping him away and doing your best to wriggle away. But he’s heavy on top of you, and he’s reaching for his belt, and there’s no way out. No hope. Nothing. “Get the fuck off me, you sick bastard!” 

He slaps you again, lash twice as hard this time, and you taste blood. 

You refuse to let it end like this. You refuse to let him destroy you. You let your body go slack as he unbuckles his belt, reaching out a hand and scrambling for the knife again. It’s under a chair not far from you — you just have to wriggle a little further. 

“It’s sad that you can’t accept that this is how it’s supposed to be. This is God’s will. You and me… we’re the same, underneath. We have the same violent heart,” David is muttering, and there, your fingertips brush the hilt. Determination renewed, you extend yourself again and this time the knife falls into your hand. 

You don’t have time to think; he’s unbuttoning his jeans, and like hell are you going to spend another moment beneath him. You drive the knife straight into his neck, and his eyes bulge as he gurgles on his own blood. As he goes limp, you push him off you — and stab again, again, again, spitting every bit of revenge into your movements as his blood covers his skin and your clothes. 

“You twisted fucker!” you’re yelling, tears rolling down your face as the shock draws in, the disgust. He’d been so close to taking you. So close to making you a victim after so long spent fighting to be a survivor. “Go to fucking hell!” 

You only stop when the fear numbs and you realise he’s no longer moving. Blood soaks both his shirt and yours, and you push yourself off him. His dead, milky eyes stare at you. When you catch a candle guttering in your periphery, you grab it. Crouch with it in your hand. Light him on fire. The flames spread along his clothes, and that’s how you leave him. 

Ashes. Bloodied, dead ashes. 

***

Joel and Ellie have fought their way through a blizzard. He’s surprised he’s still upright, but he saw bodies hanging in the stable and he can’t collapse now. Not for Ellie, and not for you. This community is built on something worse than infected or fascism, and when he found your jacket, your backpack, in that same room as the corpses… 

He can’t see anything but red and white. 

Ellie stops behind him suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” He catches his breath, looking around. There’s a long building close by, but he hasn’t seen any movement yet. 

A scream rents through the air, and he knows it’s you. His heart picks up, stomach plummeting as he runs around to find the entrance. And there you are, collapsing out of the doorway. 

He says your name as he catches your wrist, and you instantly cower away, screaming. “Please, no! Please, don’t!” 

He’s never heard you beg for anything before, and his world tilts on its axis. What the fuck have they done to you?

“Baby, it’s me!” He draws you close, cupping your jaw with his palms. Your eyes are haunted, face pale, and there’s blood. So much blood. You’re still fighting him, pushing on his chest, and he stumbles back. “It’s me. Look at me. It’s me, darlin’. It’s Joel!”

Your breaths are ragged as realisation finally dawns across your features. “Joel,” you whisper. 

“It’s me,” he says again, eyes filling with tears.

Your gaze moves to Ellie, and only then do you crumple. He catches you just before you fall to your knees, straining against his injury. “Oh, baby. Oh, baby girl,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m here now. You’re okay.”

Sobs wrack through you and he wraps his arms around you, holding on so tight he worries he might hurt you. But you clutch his shoulders just as hard, fingernails digging through his coat. You shake beneath him, and his own tears drip onto his cheeks. He pulls away quickly to look you up and down. Blood streaks through your hair.

“Where are you hurt, baby? Tell me where it hurts.”

You shake your head. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know, Joel. I don’t…”

It’s like you’re not even here with him, and he wants to break. But he has to stay upright for you. He has to be strong for you. He shrugs his coat off quickly and puts it around you, catching sight of your reddened wrists as you adjust the collar. Those bastards tied you up. Hatred drowns him, and he looks at the building you emerged from only to find orange flames flickering in the window. It must have been you, he knows, and he can at least feel proud of you for that, but still, the thought of what they might have done...

“Alright. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He pulls you to his chest, offering his other hand out for Elllie. She takes it, looking shaky as she carries both her bag and yours. 

“They were… They were eating people, Joel,” you say, voice thick and unrecognisable. “I just wanted to get medicine, and they took me. They took me. They were eating people and he was going to… He wanted…” 

“I know,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. “I know.”

You stop without warning. “They said they had medicine. You… We have to go back.”

“No, no, hey.” He laces his fingers through yours. “We ain’t going back there for anything.”

“The infection—” you protest.

“Look at me. I’m here. I’m okay. I just needed to rest is all. We don’t need any medicine now. We just need to get you somewhere safe.” His heart pangs. The fact you’ve been through hell and are still willing to go back to help him… sometimes he wishes you weren’t so damn selfless. He should have been the one protecting you today. It’s his fault you’re here. His fault you’re hurt. 

You scrape your hair back and then, looking at your shaky fingers, seem to finally see all the blood. “His blood is in my hair.”

He can at least be relieved it isn’t your own, but the look on your face… he’s never seen so many scars written in one expression. 

“I need to get it out. I need…”

“We’re gonna. We’re gonna help you clean up soon, okay?” He tucks your hair away, lost, because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. Doesn’t know how to make it all go away. “I’m so sorry, baby.” His voice cracks.

Your chest heaves with a stifled sob as you rub your hands and look out towards the lake. “Oh, god.”

Joel closes his eyes, wrought with regret. At his side, Ellie turns her gaze to the floor. It’s his worst fear come true. The reason he’d tried to get Tommy on board with taking Ellie the rest of the way. 

He’d failed again. Was always failing. 

All he can do is hold you close as you fall apart.

[mopeyy]

Little Hunter

Avatar Frontiers of Pandora

Eetu x Navi! Reader

Vocab:

taronyutsyìp - Little Hunter

woosh. You groaned as another arrow missed the target. No matter how many times you practiced, you still had the aim of a child. How were you supposed to hunt if you couldn't even hit the target? You sighed in defeat as you walked to pick up your arrow. Suddenly you heard a cocky laugh from behind you. You rolled your eyes, knowing who would be there when you turned around. "I guess archery isn't your strong suit, Sarentu." You reached down, picked up your arrow, and started walking back to your position. "Shut up, Eetu; you're supposed to be my teacher, so if I'm failing, it could only be your fault," you suggested. He laughed as he made his way toward you. "It's not my fault you are this way. The sky people have taught you to hold a gun and not a longbow." When he reached you, he tilted his head and clicked his tongue. "I see what's happening. You're standing all wrong. here,"

He stood behind you and pushed you to his chest, fixing your posture. "You need to keep your back straight and loosen your shoulders." He slid his hands up to your shoulders and pushed them back. "And you should hold your bow like this." His hands moved towards your arms, adjusting them, before placing his hands over yours, making sure you were holding the bow right. "Do you see how much better that feels?"

He was so close that when he spoke, you could feel his breath on your neck. You only nodded in response, scared that no words would come out if you tried to speak. He slid his leg in between yours and used it to widen your stance. "Stand like this, nice and firm." He moved his hands off of yours and slid them down to your waist. His voice was next to your ear as he spoke, "Now feel the wind, and when it is calm, shoot."

You watched how the leaves on the trees shook and how the grass moved. When it all stilled and you no longer felt the breeze on your face, you released the arrow. It sliced through the air faster and smoother than it ever had. For the first time, it hit the target. Not completely in the center, but it was better than you had done before.

Eetu released your waist and took a step back, giving you some space. "You're already improving, Sarentu." He said this with pride in his voice. You turned around to face him with a smile. "That was the best my aim has ever been. Will you keep helping me practice?" You hoped he would say yes. You wanted to get better so you could hunt, and you didn't mind Eetus's company. "I can't; I promised I would hunt arrow deer for the meal tonight." You sighed in disappointment. "I take it back; you're a bad teacher." You joked and crossed your arms with a smile.

"ouch, you're hurting my feelings, taronyutsyìp. If I could stay and help you, I would, but I have better things to do." He smiled. You scoffed and turned back to your practice. He playfully rolled his eyes and said, "I'm only joking with you; come find me at the bonfire tonight. We can speak then." He offered. You opened your mouth to reply, "Maybe, it depends if I go." You shrugged. "Right, well then maybe I'll see you tonight." He said, then left as someone started calling his name in the distance.

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

The fire was bright against the dark sky and the embers danced in the air. All of Pandora glowed around you. It was a breathtaking sight. The fire was huge, surrounded by dancing Na'vi. And the air smelled sweet, must have been the smell of today's hunt. You could never get enough of Aranahe cooking. You decided to go to the bonfire tonight and try to have fun. It was better than having your ear talked off by Teylan at the resistance base.

You spotted a table full of delicious meat and fruit. mmm. you hadn't eaten all day and couldn't wait to dig in. You squeezed through some dancers on your way to the table. You almost made it until someone grabbed you by the arm. Suddenly you were thrown into a dance by another Na'vi. You were being pulled every which way, so fast that you hadn't even realized you were dancing. Every time you tried to break free you were passed to someone else and forced to keep dancing. It was an endless cycle.

Finally, out of breath, you broke free. You stumbled out of the dance circle, fixing your hair while doing so. You didn't dance often, and you had never danced like that. You regained your breath and continued your previous task: getting to the food table. This time you were able to do so with no distractions. When you reached the table you huffeed in annoyance. Of course, all the food would now be gone.

Someone approaches you and stands at your side. "Were you hoping to eat?" They questioned. You looked to the side and made eye contact with no other than Eetu. "Yes, but I'm too late." you sighed. He laughed and then handed you a kebab stacked with meat and fruits. "Here you can have mine, I only took a bite." He offered. You smiled at him, "Thank you." You took a bite and it had to be the best thing you ever tasted. The meat and fruit made each bite savory and sweet, a perfect combination. He laughed at your eagerness, "You must be so hungry after all that dancing huh." He snickered.

You paused your eating and your ears quickly reddened with embarrassment, "You saw that?" you prayed to Eywa that his answer would be no, but your prayers were not answered. "Of course I saw it, everyone did. Who knew the Sarentu could dance." He said, teasingly. You put the finished kebab down and used your hands to hide your face. Eetu grinned and moved your hands away from your face.

"It wasn't bad taronyutsyìp. You tried really hard to keep up with the dancers, I thought it was cute." He gave you a squeeze on the shoulder in an attempt to make you feel better. You let out a soft smile,

"Maybe I should pursue dancing and quit hunting."

"slow down, don't get too cocky."

You two shared a laugh.

The laughter between you and Eetu lingered in the air. As the night wore on, the bonfire's glow seemed to cast a spell over the gathering, with the Na'vi's vibrant blue skin illuminated by the flickering flames. Eetu's eyes held a spark that mirrored the firelight, and you found yourself captivated by the way his presence seemed to command the space around him.

As the night deepened, Eetu's gaze turned thoughtful, and he leaned in closer to share a story from his youth. He spoke of a time when he too struggled with the bow, how he overcame his shortcomings through perseverance and the guidance of a mentor. His words were not just a tale of personal triumph but a subtle lesson on the importance of patience and practice.

The conversation shifted as Eetu inquired about your life before Pandora, your dreams, and what you hoped to achieve among the Na'vi. You found yourself opening up, sharing stories of your time with the RDA and your own challenges. It was a moment of mutual understanding, a bridge being built between two worlds.

By the end of the night, you and Eetu had learned a lot about each other.

[captainsophiestark]

Naval Wedding

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Top Gun

Summary: Phoenix needs a fake date to a Naval wedding to avoid sailors hitting on her all night, so who better to ask than her best friend?

Word Count: 2,925

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"I have a favor to ask you."

I sighed dramatically, making a show of pulling my attention from my laptop to my best friend, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, who sat across the table from me. She held her coffee mug with both hands and stared intently at me. Clearly, whatever she was about to say next had been on her mind for a bit now.

"It's something I need you to help me out with, if you don't mind. And if you're not busy."

I raised an eyebrow, closing my laptop and leaning across the table to match Natasha's posture.

"Okay, spit it out, Nat. You've never danced around something the way you're doing right now the entire time I've known you. What's wrong?"

Nat took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, then met my eyes with a new determination.

"I need you to be my fake date for a Navy wedding next weekend."

Honestly, I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting her to say, but it definitely wasn't that. The corner of my mouth quirked up in a smile, and I had to work to hold back a laugh.

"Nat... first of all, I'm in." Her shoulders immediately relaxed, the dire look on her face morphing into one of relief as she eaased back in her chair. I shook my head, still smiling. "Second, you seriously need to work on your delivery. I thougth you were about to ask me to help you hide a body."

Her eyebrow shot up.

"You thought I prefaced asking you to hide a body with 'if you don't mind' and 'if you're free'?"

I just shrugged and waved her off. "You were crazy grim and looked more stressed than I've ever seen you. I didn't think the favor was gonig to involve a party. Which brings me to third: why? I'm happy to go with you, but I'm a little surprised you're asking."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "You know I work with a lot of men. Most of them are fine. Some of them are great. Some of them I want to punch in the nose sometimes. But at big Navy weddings, there's always tons of pilots I'm not familiar with, and at least a few of them always try to hit on me. This time, I don't want to deal with it. So... fake date."

I grinned. "Natasha Trace. Are you telling me that I get to scare off Naval Aviators all night if they try to hit on my girlfriend?"

Natasha grinned and shook her head with a laugh. I waited until she faced me again, then raised an eyebrow since she still hadn't answered my question.

"Alright, sure. You get to scare off anybody who flirts with me, any way you want to."

"Amazing."

****************

The next weekend, I stood in front of the mirror adjusting my outfit nervously while I waited for Natasha to arrive. We were meeting at my house, then driving over together.

When I'd told her I'd be happy to go as her fake date to this wedding, it had been a partial lie. I'd been wrestling with some feelings for my best friend since a few months ago, and I wasn't completely thrilled about the "fake" part of "fake date". When my doorbell finally rang and I opened the door to find Natasha looking like an absolute knockout, my heart did a few backflips before breaking in half as I remembered that she wasn't actually here for a real date.

"Wow," she said, sounding a little breathier than normal as she looked me up and down. "You look great."

"Me? Nat, you look stunning. Like, wow."

Nat looked up and met my eyes with a smile.

"Well, then I guess we make a good pair."

My heart did another flip, so I took a deep breath and stepped through the door to join Nat on the porch before she could give me a heart attack.

"Those Navy boys won't know what hit 'em," I declared, holding my arm out for Nat. She took it with a grin, and we headed for the car arm in arm. My heart skipped a couple beats at the proximity, and I did my best to tell it to shut up.

It mostly listened throughout the wedding ceremony. When we got to the venue, we got some looks and some raised eyebrows, especially from Natasha's closest Navy friends, who she apparently hadn't told about her plan. I got to ditch Hangman to cross the room and chase off a more tangentally-invited pilot who'd been hitting on Nat, which had been a highlight of the night so far, especially as she leaned into my side and I wrapped an arm around her. Unfortunately, we didn't get to linger, since we had to take our seats for the wedding itself.

It was beautiful, and thankfully, didn't stretch on too long. Before I knew it, we were heading to the reception, throwing a few of Nat's aviator friends in the back of the car to get to the venue hosting the reception. We blasted music, laughed, and I even got up the courage to reach out and take Nat's hand while she drove. She turned to me with a grin and squeezed my hand back, and I tried not to let my imagination run away from me about whether that might mean something.

We pulled into the venue, and Natasha immediately took my hand in hers. I bumped my shoulder into hers, and we shared a grin as we flowed through the doors with the rest of the wedding guests. The music was already blasting, and people were floating around and snacking while we waited for the bride and groom to arrive with the rest of the wedding party. Nat's friends went ahead of us as she stopped, turning to me with a smile.

"Alright, what's first? Food or drinks?"

"Hmm... I know the guests of honor aren't here yet, but what about dance floor?"

She laughed. "Okay, drinks it is. If you actually want to pull me out there, I'm going to need more than just water in my veins."

"I don't think the alcohol actually goes into your veins-"

"You know what I mean! Come on, I'll get you your favorite. On me."

"Isn't it an open bar?"

"And isn't it the thought that counts?"

I laughed, letting Natasha pull me along and through the crowd, trailing after her with a happy smile. When she came to a stop at the bar, tugging me up to stand next to her, I had to fight very hard against the urge to lean in and kiss her, then and there. I swallowed, but managed to get a hold of myself and respond to her instead.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's the thought that counts."

Nat and I ate the snacks and chatted with her close friends while we waited for the couple to arrive, and then for the party to really start. Dinner was delicious, the toasts were sweet, and not long after the last one finished, the dance floor officially opened for business.

I turned to Nat, intending to make good on my answer of what I first wanted to do when we got here, but I found her facing in the other direction as some guy in a suit smiled down at her, one of his hands resting on the back of her chair. I narrowed my eyes.

He didn't notice me, he was too focused on Nat. I knew she was more than capable of telling him to get lost on her own, but I also knew that the main reason she'd asked me to be her date at all tonight was to avoid dealing with clowns like these. I stood and walked around to stand next to him, pushing my way into the spot between him and the table and holding a hand out to Nat.

"Hey, babe," I said, smiling at Nat without sparing a glance for the guy. "You ready to hit the dancefloor?"

She grinned back at me in sync with the guy beside me saying "Babe?" as a clear question directed at me. I turned to face him like I had all the time in the world, keeping a straight face as I met his eyes.

"Yeah. That's generally what I call my girlfriend. You got a comment about that?"

The guy blanched, taking a half step back and removing his arm from the back of Natasha's chair.

"Uh... no. Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, she's the one who had to put up with some random guy trying to put moves on her."

The guy scowled, but he muttered a quick apology to Natasha all the same before heading off into the crowd again. I watched him go, then turned to Nat with the massive grin I'd been holding back the whole time.

She shook her head, mirroring my grin all the same.

"You have way too much fun doing that."

I shrugged. "Maybe. But you don't have any fun doing it for yourself, so this seems like by far the best option."

"I guess I can't argue with you there."

"You're right, you can't. Now come on, I want to dance with my girlfriend. Let's get out there."

My heart hammered in my chest at my own words, worried that I'd overstepped, even in the context of a group in public for our fake-date situation. But Natasha just smiled at me again, softer this time, and took my hand.

"Fine. I guess I'm tipsy enough for this. Barely."

I laughed, pulling her out onto the dancefloor behind me. Tipsy or not, I usually enjoyed making a fool of myself on the dancefloor, and it turned out to be even better with Nat's hand in mine, the two of us spinning in and out of each other's arms.

The rest of the wedding party disappeared as we lost ourselves in the music, just the two of us, breathing hard between laughs and holding each other tightly. Eventually, the music wound down from the high-energy stuff we'd been listening to, shifting to something made for slow dancing. We stuttered to a stop on the floor as couples flocked in all around us, and I looked at Nat.

She shrugged, stepping closer to me and putting her hands on my waist.

"We're supposed to be a couple too, right?"

I grinned back at her. "Damn right."

I laid my arms across Nat's shoulders and the two of us swayed back and forth on the dancefloor, the low lights sweeping over us as we moved. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, and the corner of her mouth lifted up like she'd noticed. Slowly, she leaned in, and my heart just about stopped in my chest. She rested her forehead against mine, and I sighed, half content to stay here like this with her as long as she wanted, half disappointed she hadn't been going in for a kiss.

When the music of the slow dance faded, we just stayed where we were for a long moment before finally pulling away from each other. I opened my mouth to say something, although I wasn't totally sure what yet, but before either of us got the chance to speak the music picked up again, and her closer aviator friends swarmed us on the dancefloor.

"I can't believe you got Phoenix out to dance!" called Fanboy, grinning as he threw one arm over her shoulder, jumping up and down to the beat. Natasha tried to duck his arm, presumably to ditch the dancefloor, but Fanboy knew her well enough that he managed to stop her. I gave them a half-hearted smile, then took the opportunity myself to slip away from the crowd.

I knew Nat probably would've wanted me making up a girlfriend excuse to get her out of there. Normally I would've helped her, but that moment on the dancefloor before her friends showed up had felt so real, and I needed to take a moment to remind myself that it wasn't.

I ducked and weaved through the crowd with relative ease, since only Nat's close friends would've recognized me and they were all out on the dancefloor. I made my way to the bar, not even ordering, just leaning against it for a second. Enough other people hovered around that it'd be hard to spot me amongst the crowd, but I could still see Nat out on the dancefloor, laughing and smiling even as she shook her head and tried to tell her friends to get lost.

I was in love with her. Her attitude, confidence, strength, wit. The way she smiled at me when I said something funny or called Hangman "Bagman" even though I barely knew him and had no reason (other than loyalty to Nat) to use the nickname. I was in love with her, and I had been for a long time, but after tonight, I wasn't going to be able to ignore it anymore. This night had been a mistake.

"Hey! You want a drink?"

I reluctantly turned to face the person shouting in my ear only to find Rooster, one of Natasha's best friends, leaning over to talk to me, his shirt unbuttoned and his tie around his head.

"Uh... that's okay," I said. "I think I'm good."

"You sure? You made me a lot of money tonight!"

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him, but he was drunk enough that he didn't get the hint. He turned and quickly snagged two bottles of beer from the bartender, who had to explain to Rooster that it was an open bar and he didn't need to pay, before Rooster finally turned back to me with a grin.

"Want one of these?"

"No," I said, gently pushing aside the bottle he offered me as I took a step forward. "Rooster, what do you mean I made you a lot of money tonight?"

"Technically you and Phoenix! Everybody kept betting that you guys weren't going to figure out your shit for another month at least, but I had faith-"

"Bradley, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You guys!" he said, motioning emphatically with the beers in his hands between me and the dancefloor, where Nat had been cajoled into enjoying at least one song. "Finally getting together! After hearing her wax poetic about how great you are since the day you guys met, we started taking bets on when she'd finally do something about it. And I won! So, thanks!"

"Hold on..." I reached out, taking Rooster's arm to steady myself. The room had started spinning around me, and it had nothing to do with alcohol. "Roos, what are you saying? What do you mean, Nat's been talking about me since the day we met?"

"Ah, I probably shouldn't have told you," he said, shaking his head and at last lowering his voice to normal volume, although it was still far from a whisper. "But it's probably fine now, since you're dating. God, she used to drive us all crazy talking about how great you were and how much of a thing she had for you. It's probably gonna get worse now though, since you guys finally admitted you were pining after each other- Hey, where are you going?"

I ignored Rooster as I headed back to the dance floor, a buzzing in my brain as his words echoed. He was clearly drunk, but if anything, that made me more confident that what he'd told me was the truth. The whole time I'd been driving myself crazy trying not to admit feelings for one of my best friends, she'd been doing the same thing.

Before I knew it, I stood in front of Natasha again. The music still thumped, people laughing and jumping and twirling all around us, but I barely noticed. Nat stood to one side of Fanboy, with Bob on his other side, the two of them holding him up as he attempted to drag them both into a dance, so it took Nat a minute to notice me. But once she did, she straightened up.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I nodded, taking a step closer to her.

"Rooster spilled his guts. You like me. For real."

Shock registered on her face, then straight rage as she whipped her head around to look for Rooster. I just grinned, pushing Fanboy's arm off her as I closed the rest of the distance between us.

"Nat. I like you, too. For real."

She whipped her head back around so quickly that she almost broke my nose. Her wide eyes searched mine, one eyebrow raised.

"Are you kidding?"

"Hell no I'm not kidding. Nat... can I kiss you?"

She grinned, any trace of trepidation or irritation melting away all at once.

"Hell yeah you can."

I grinned back, letting my hand come up to the back of her neck as I leaned in and finally, finally kissed Natasha. She wrapped an arm tightly around my waist, pulling me closer to her as we deepened the kiss. Some cheers and whoops from her friends snapped us both out of it enough to finally pull away, both of us smiling delirious-looking smiles.

"I'm so glad you asked me to be your date to this, Nat," I breathed, letting my arms fall to rest on her shoulders. Her hands came onto my waist, her smile turning into more of a grin.

"Me too. Although, I am looking forward to an opportunity for a real date, without my idiot friends in range or any other people trying to hit on me."

"Sounds great. How about... tomorrow night?"

Nat threw her head back and laughed, but when she met my eyes again and saw me looking as serious as ever, she grinned again.

"Alright. Tomorrow night it is."

"I can't wait."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21

[riddles-n-games]

TIG Drabble #4-Avery and Jameson

A/N: Hey guys, this story is inspired by the additional photoshoot compilations I found from a little while back. Oh, and enjoy the little surprise at the end.

Breath in.

"Okay, Heiress. Take your stance. Good. Lemme just..." He placed his hands on her waist and adjusted her posture then went around to straighten her back.

One foot in front, one foot back. Equidistant, both facing forward. Make sure they are perfectly aligned in parallel.

Square the shoulders. Tuck in the chin.

"Relax your shoulders." He tapped her shoulder blades until he felt her drop them. She forgot to stop tensing. That was one thing Nash had told her time and time again but she just kept forgetting. It was hard not to. Every time she came here, every time she held a gun, it reminded her of then.

The shooting in the Black Wood, the airplane bomb, Sheffield Grayson... Whenever she heard something near the fireplace when she was alone, her body would freeze or tense. It was clear she developed a trigger reflex. She also avoided the passages. And the nightmares; she hated to be alone at night. She stowed away in Libby's room and if she was feeling bolder, she stayed with Jameson.

It was hard navigating a new relationship while fighting for your sanity and mental stability. But Jameson was supportive through it all and it didn't take her long before she confessed the real truth behind his mother's charges. She'd never seen him more serious or angry than that moment. It was why they were here now.

While Nash and Oren were training her to shoot, Jameson insisted being the one when they weren't available and also started teaching her martial arts and kickboxing. He was rigorous and passionate; she knew he'd been deeply affected. But he was trying and that was enough for her.

Being with Jameson was enough.

"Ok, I know Nash said you were still having some trouble with holding it so I got you one that I used to practice with. It’s a bit smaller too so it should be easier to hold.” He handed her the gun and she turned it over in her hands, taking in every inch, the rust, the scratches and the little dents. He had to have used it a long time. "It's a Col-"

"Colt Python, '95 model." Jameson's brows raised in surprise. Avery shrugged. "I may have been doing a little bit of research since Nash got me started."

"Uh-huh. Well then, you can tell me what kind of pistol that is once we’re done.” Avery turned to the table, locking in on the black glock that was on the edge. She was feeling wary just looking at it but she couldn’t deny the curiosity creeping in. “Now, show me your locked and loaded pose.”

She glanced at him through the safety glasses and pushed them back up before focusing on the target in front of her. Deep breaths. Roll back your shoulders. Your arms should be eye level and most importantly, remember that the gun is an extension of you.

As she was about to pull the trigger, her hands went clammy and started shaking. She tried to wipe away the sweat on her pants. The tremors weren't going away but Avery ignored that and refocused on the target, gripping the revolver tighter than before. She tried tensing her index finger against the trigger but it only started to react and trembled as if it had a mind of its own.

Soon enough, her well-positioned aim was wobbling around the center of the bullseye and the harder she held the gun, the sweatier the handle and looser her hold. She huffed frustratedly and she swiped furiously against her pant leg again. That was when a warm hand wrapped around hers and she looked up, startled, to see Jameson standing beside her. "Allow me."

He didn't make a move until she nodded and gently slid his hand to her wrist then brought his other hand around the handle. His fingers overlapped hers. A little up and to the right, he fixed her aim and with that, her breathing slowed. The tension started to lift.

"Just like that. You're doing great, Heiress," he murmured just as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. She smiled briefly but focused on their entwined hands. He steadied her. The shaking subsided; Jameson must have noticed because he gave her a reassuring squeeze then retracted his hand from hers.

He took hold of her free hand and placed it on the handle where his was previously. As soon as she had a comfortable hold, he let go and slowly unwrapped his other hand from her wrist. Avery looked at him and he nodded at her. "You can do this. I'm right here, Avery."

She nodded back at him and then faced the target again, inhaling sharply and holding her breath. This time her aim was poised and steady. Her finger pulled the trigger.

Breath out.

Bonus:

[thatonebirdwrites]

Embers

AO3 Link (Continuation from Dress)

Kara sights her adversary on the wall just above one of the displays for artifacts from Indigenous tribes of North America. Despite the red cloak and ridiculously large hat, Kara knows it's Lena hanging there. Lena has carefully cut a hole in the glass enclosure, somehow turned off the alarm, and has the artifact in her gloved hand.

"Halt," Kara calls. She whips out her stun gun. "Don't make me shoot."

Lena raises a beautifully sculpted eyebrow. "Ah, I wondered when my favorite agent would arrive. Quite a dashing appearance I would say."

Kara tries not to preen at the compliment. She wears a suit and tie, mostly to blend in with the gala on the other side of the museum. Her team had been on high alert due to yet another invitation by LKW. Her boss, Alex, had been certain it was the jewels LKW sought, but Kara knows better.

Lena's past thefts had been highly specific cultural items from various Indigenous tribes throughout the world. Despite several of Kara's best contacts scouring the black market discreetly and preparing to buy any of the stolen artifacts, nothing Lena steals ever shows up in the auctions. Nor in private sales, at least the ones Kara's friends Nia and J'onn can access.

So where does Lena take them? It's haunted Kara for quite awhile.

"Why that artifact?" Kara asks. "It's just an old firestarter. Best you can get with that is embers."

Lena tucks the artifact into a pocket in the interior of her cloak. "Come now, agent, surely you have more imagination than that?" She swings to the next display. This one holds a set of fabrics, many intricately woven with dyed strands. She carefully cuts another circle and the embers of her torch sends sparks across the top of the glass.

"Are you seriously just going to continue?" Kara can't believe it. "I'm literally pointing a gun at you."

"You won't shoot it." Lena smiles and removes the circle with a flick of her finger. It flips over onto the other half of the glass top. "You never do. So instead of that tiresome posturing, play a game with me." She grins and reaches in to nab the next artifact. "Guess why I take these."

Kara frowns. "Toying with me now?"

"Oh I know you love it," Lena teases. She winks. "And I bet our last kiss has haunted your dreams."

Kara's face reddens. She will never admit it, but that kiss does indeed haunt her dreams and waking moments. In fact, she's half-thinking of it right now. Both of them dangling by rope as they make out-- "Dammit, stop that." Her face turns a darker shade of red when she realizes she said it out loud.

Lena laughs, and it's a gorgeous ripple of gold that sparks embers deep in Kara's gut. God, she wants to hear that laugh again and again.

"So the truth has been revealed." She tugs her bag to her side and carefully tucks the fabrics into it. "Now, our game? Or are you too flustered to think?" Another wink has Kara wishing she'd stuck to the other side of the gala.

Her gun lowers, while she struggles to regain an upper hand. "You poisoned me with that kiss." As much as it stings that the kiss had been merely to distract, Kara finds herself far more forgiving of Lena than she ought to be.

"Hardly," Lena scoffs. "My lipstick contained a trace amount of a phenylpropanoid derived from nutmeg, which can be hallucinogenic at certain doses, but it also has antimicrobial and anti-inflammatory properties. It's used in medicinal tonics in Southern Asia." She swings to the last display case in this exhibit. "I believe it important to the health of my favorite agent to occasionally loosen you up."

That's followed up with a wink.

Which only makes Kara want to kiss her even more.

"Well, I certainly did let loose," Kara says, her cheeks likely burning so red that she might as well be on fire. How does Lena stoke her so creepily well? Kara fights a spell of arousal after every conversation they share. It's maddening.

"Fine, I'll play your game. But after, I'm bringing you in. You're in a very disadvantageous position, Ms. Walsh, hanging from the ceiling."

"Am I? Oh, whatever shall I do?" Lena feigns a dramatic faint with one hand to her forehead. "My big bad agent will surely have to rescue me from this dreadful predicament."

Kara's face burns. "Big bad agent? Come now, I'm not that big."

"Tell that to your deltoids and biceps," Lena shoots back.

Which is a valid point. Kara does work out enough to have decently defined muscles, but she's not that beefy, is she? She flexes one arm, and to her amusement, Lena stares at her, her cutting momentarily distracted. The flame sizzles in the air above the glass.

"Oh, a muscle lover?" Kara teased. She flexes her other arm, and Lena bites her lip and quickly looks down at her torch.

The sparks glint blue as she completes her circular cut. "You have two guesses. I will reply with the truth for one guess and a lie for the other."

"One truth and one lie?" Kara puts her hands on her hips. "You don't make it easy, do you?"

Lena chuckles and slides the cut glass to one side. "And miss out on your famous detective skills? I think not. Dazzle me, agent."

She reaches inside to take out a clay vessel that has the shape of a frog with a tall snout sticking out of its back. To Kara's surprise, Lena takes her time gently wrapping the vessel in a massive amount of cloth from her bag.

"The items you steal never show up on the black market, so either someone commissions you to steal them or you have private dealers to avoid detection." It's been Kara's best guess for awhile now.

Lena raises an eyebrow. "Interesting guess. What evidence do you have that I'm selling them at all?"

Kara frowns. "It's the typical reason for theft. Usually those who frequent museums and university antique libraries like you sell on the black market or were commissioned by a wealthy collector."

"Wealthy." Lena laughs, but it's different than the whimsical laugh earlier. This one is darker, more dangerous, and her green eyes glint with an intensity that leaves Kara feeling incredibly parched. "Indeed, I expected a bit more imagination, Kara."

It's the first time Lena used Kara's first name only, and her intense gaze has Kara squirming.

She feels suddenly inadequate, simply because it never occurred to her that Lena might not be selling the artifacts at all. "The other possibility is you seek to gather an illegal collection for your own amusement."

Lena sighs, and that alone fills Kara with shame, as if she'd failed a test she hadn't known she was taking. "Kara, look at what I'm holding." She holds up the heavily wrapped vessel. "This is an extremely rare frog vessel from the Anasazi tribe in Southern United States. Descendants of the Anasazi live in reservations, forced off their lands, and often considered an extinct tribe."

"Okay, so you know your history, but why steal it?" Kara asks.

"Let me ask you this," Lena says, her voice suddenly serious. "If your agency raided an illegal black market auction that had thousands of stolen artifacts, what would be the fate of those artifacts?"

Kara frowns. "Hey, I thought I was the one to ask questions here."

"Answer the question, agent." The sharpness in Lena's voice takes Kara by surprise. This doesn't feel much like a game anymore.

"We put them in evidence bags and that goes to the department that handles artifact storage and analysis..." she trails off, her mind spinning at the implications.

"And once that department analyzes them, where do they go?"

"Often to museums..." A sick feeling curls through Kara's stomach.

"And where are we currently?"

"A museum in San Francisco..." Kara meets Lena's gaze, and for the first time, doubt curdles through her. "You're not taking these to sell them, are you? You're taking them to return them."

Lena smiles and tucks the frog vessel into her pack. "Perhaps you have a brain after all."

"But why do this? If you're caught, no one is going to care that you are returning cultural artifacts to their respective tribes." Kara frowns and crosses her arms. "The risk feels too high for the relative value--"

Lena loosens the carabiner on her rope and drops to the ground in front of Kara. The movement startles her, and Kara breaks off midsentence.

Tenderly, Lena reaches out to touch Kara's face, her glove warm. "And if I ever let love go, / because the hatred and the whisperings / of a phantom dictate I obey," Lena whispers, her eyes searching Kara's as if Kara herself held the artifacts she sought. She leans closer, her breath warm against Kara's skin.

Her words ignite a fire so deep, that Kara feels like she's burning from the inside out. Her right hand disobeys her and lightly touches Lena's waist.

"... then let love freeze me out," Lena continues, "I must, I must become a menace to my enemies."

The last line hits Kara like punch to her gut. "That's by June Jordan," she says, stunned. "My Aunt Astra loved that poem."

"Astra El, a brilliant strategist and freedom fighter in the Kaznia war against Russia." Lena's heterochromatic eyes pierced Kara's like daggers. "A war they lost brutally, their country pillaged and left in severe poverty. A great many refugees lay scattered throughout Western Nations."

"How do you know all that?" Kara says, her eyes wide. She's never talked about her past before with anyone. Not even Alex, Nia, or J'onn. Her and Kal-el survived only because Aunt Astra smuggled them out when Kara was ten years old and Kal only three.

"I seek what is lost and restore it." An answer that tells Kara next to nothing. Lena smiles, sadly, her thumb rubbing against Kara's cheek. "We must become a menace to our enemies, Kara."

Kara takes in a sharp breath. Her hand moves to her belt. "I should handcuff you right now and drag you in."

Lena steps back and holds out her wrists. "Then do it."

Kara's hands shake as she pulls out the bulky handcuffs. They dangle from her right hand, but she can't bring herself to do it. Lena's words, the poetry, and most of all knowledge of Kara's beloved Aunt? Too many questions dance in her head.

Lena drops her hands to her side with a smile. "I thought so." She leans in close and kisses Kara's cheek. "Now as much as I enjoyed our chat, I really must be going."

Kara knows this is her last chance. Sure, maybe she can't bring herself to handcuff Lena Kieran Walsh, but she can flip an alarm by hitting the signal on her walkie-talkie. The rest of the agents will flood the room and secure their adversary finally. Kara will be heralded a hero instead of yelled at for failing yet again.

But their conversation unnerves her so much that Kara does nothing.

Instead, she watches as Lena climbs up the wall, walking as if it's a floor, her hands on the rope. At the ceiling, she proceeds to push a tile to one side. Darkness looms in the resulting hole.

Lena glances down at her with a sad smile, and her right eye glints a bit more blue than the other. "There's a cozy, Vietnamese restaurant in San Diego that has an excellent view of the Pacific Ocean. I hear the potstickers are to die for."

"Oh?" Kara wonders why Lena is telling her this.

"Think about it, Kara," Lena says softly, and her gaze holds Kara's with an intimacy that takes her breath away. Framed by the ceiling lights around her escape hatch, Lena looks almost like an ethereal angel. "Don't hush," she recites a poem that tickles Kara's memory, but not enough to identify it, "don't throw away, / the most persistent truth, / as our hard-headed brethren / sometimes do."

Kara raises her hand in response, but words fail to form on her lips. With one last lingering glance, Lena slips into the ceiling and the tile is replaced as if she'd never been there.

A silence descends on the room, and a heaviness wraps around Kara's heart.

She looks up at the cameras in the room, and wonders what they captured. Turning, she walks back the way she came, but instead of joining the gala again, she turns toward the security office.

Inside, she finds two men, one of them half-asleep, and the other typing into a computer. They look up at her entrance.

"Agent Kara Zorel of Interpol," she says and flashes her badge. "May I review your footage for the last fifteen minutes?"

"Don't see why not." The man at the computer gestures to the wall of screens. He taps out a command, and Kara watches each of them carefully.

But none show her and Lena talking. The room Lena had burglarized looks as if no one had stepped in it for ages.

Which means Lena either works with someone, who aids in altering security footage, or she set this up days in advance to disguise her tracks. It makes sense considering how useless past security footage always proved to be. The drones they set to fly the perimeter sometimes catches glimpses of her get-away vehicle, but each one turns into a dead-end, the name on the rental a nonexistent person.

"Thank you. My superior may be by again to review further footage." Kara nods to the men and exits back toward the gala. She sights several agents spread out discreetly throughout the large ballroom, and her boss, Alex, lingers near the stage, where the artifact sits. The one her team had been certain was LKW's target.

She wonders what Aunt Astra would think of her working for Interpol. Kara thought she did this in her Aunt's honor, but Lena's words darken her thoughts and litter them with a gnawing doubt.

Alex corners her only five minutes later at the drink table. "And where have you been for the last twenty minutes?"

Kara sighs. "Bathroom and a check with the security feeds." This is technically the truth since she did go to the bathroom after the visit with security, but it leaves her with a mounting guilt and confusion.

Why is she protecting Lena Kieran Walsh? Sure, she enjoys their conversations, the flirting, and definitely that kiss, but she's a thief, and a dangerous one at that. What does she owe Lena? And yet, she'd somehow known of her Aunt, and spoken of her with reverence. Why?

"And you've seen nothing?" Alex searches Kara's face as if trying to read her mind. "No parting diatribes with our darling thief?" A hint of sarcasm filters into Alex's tone.

"No, nothing." Kara picks up a glass of water and drinks it, her eyes on the stage, where a band plays and the newest piece for the museum sits on display. Some sort of silver calf with carved symbols that mean nothing to Kara.

But they likely meant something to the culture from which that calf came.

"I think this might have been a diversion," she says. "Send us here while she goes elsewhere."

"I hope not, but I'll put in feelers for any suspicious activity within the region." Alex places a hand on Kara's shoulder. "I know this case has been hard for you. Just remember, as charming as Ms. Walsh is, she's also a dangerous fugitive. We must bring her to justice."

Kara nods and manages a smile. She drinks her water instead of replying. Is what she's doing justice?

Or is Lena Kieran Walsh's thefts a truer justice?

An unanswerable question.

Disturbed, she finds a quiet corner to watch the gala attendees. But her attention lays scattered like the petals on the red carpet stage.

Lena's last worlds pulse in her head, and she can't help herself. Kara performs a search on her phone for a specific restaurant in San Diego that serves potstickers.

When the theft is discovered two hours later, she aids the others in the investigation, but Lena Kieran Walsh, as usual, left no fingerprints, and no clues other than the three precisely cut holes in the glass enclosures.

[rumi-buni]

𝒟𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉

TW: Murder, Graphic descriptions of a crime scene, Y/N is crazy

The air is warm and heavy this evening outside of Shuji’s apartment. The gun in your hands is heavier. You and Shuji stand in the alley beside his apartment, the setting sun bathing the world in a golden glow. You run your fingers over the textured chrome material. It’s funny, how something so small can cause such big consequences. Shuji’s eyes follow the pattern your fingers trace on the side of the gun. The two of you agreed that tonight is the night Shuji will kill your father. Which meant you had to go home if this plan was going to work. You hold the gun out to Shuji, your eyes flickering up to his gold ones. He holds your gaze for a moment before he takes the gun from you, he slips it into the waistband of his jeans. A conflicted look crosses Hanma’s face, and before you can ask him about it he opens his mouth.

“Are you sure about this? You know you could always just stay here, with me.” Shuji drags the toe of his sneaker across the pavement, his eyes looking anywhere but your face.

You let out a sigh exasperated, “We’ve been over this Shuji. He’ll come looking for me if I don’t go back. I’ll never be safe as long as he’s alive.”

Hanma finally meets your eyes. The look on his face makes you soften, just a bit.

“You know I’d keep you safe.” He speaks softly, but his words are firm.

“I know,” You nod, taking his hands in yours “But killing him is the best way to keep me safe. When he’s dead we’ll never have to worry about him again.” You bring Shuji’s left hand to your face, and ‘sin’ caresses your face.

“Alright.” Shuji lets out a breath. His finger winds into your hair, tugging you closer as he leans down for a kiss. You rock up onto your toes to meet him. When your lips connect a warm feeling like honey spreads through you. You’ve never felt as warm as you do when you’re kissing Hanma Shuji.

You walked home alone, your bag slung over your shoulder. The walk home was quiet, just you and your thoughts. You went over the plan in your head again. You would have dinner with your father just like you do every Sunday, after dinner you will tell him that you are tired so he will let you go to your room early and he’ll go to the living room to watch TV. You’ll take some valuable items from around the house, then you just have to wait for the guards to change shifts at midnight. You hum a tune to yourself as you walk.

Your father was waiting at the door when you walked in.

“Where have you been? Nobodies seen or heard from you in two days!” Your father grabs your arm, tugging you close to his face. You can already smell the liquor on his breath.

“I’m sorry, I went to a friend’s house.”

“What friend?” Your father snaps, his grip tightens. It’s going to leave a bruise.

“Rika, Rika Yamamoto. We went to school together.” His eyes narrow at you, and you hold his gaze. If you look away now he would know you’re lying.

He lets go of you, running a hand through his graying hair. “Don’t stay away for so long without calling. We were worried sick.”

You bow your head, “Yes Daddy. It won’t happen again.”

“Come on, dinner’s ready and I’m starving.”

You leave your bag in the genkan and follow your father into the dining room. The table is set when you enter the dining room, and your father takes his seat at the head of the table. His posture is rigid in his chair. His left hand rests on his dinner knife, tracing the engravings on the handle. You take your seat on the right side of the table. The seat that should have been your mother’s. The door to the dining room creaks open, and two maids slip into the room carrying heavy trays of food. One maid stops at your side, she begins filling your plate with tonight’s dinner. You steal a glance at her out of the corner of your eye. She looks like she could be around your age. She has dark round eyes, framed by darker bangs. The rest of her hair is tied back in a tight bun. She looks so innocent. You wonder if you would look like that if your father hadn’t taken that innocence from you. The maids finish filling your plates before they retreat from the dining room leaving you and your father alone.

You’re quiet during dinner, listening to your father talk about his work. The deadline coming up and the quotas his employees are missing. Usually, you’d pay more attention to his ramblings about his businesses, they’re going to be your business eventually. Tonight you can’t be so bothered. There is an electricity buzzing in your veins, the anticipation of what’s to come.

“What was she like? My mother.” You cut off your father’s ramblings.

He stutters, surprised by your question. His fork is frozen mid-air halfway to his mouth.

“Your mother?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion, for a second you wonder if he even knows who you’re talking about. “She was perfect. She was so innocent, and beautiful.” Your father looks over at you, something akin to love in his eyes. “She was just like you.”

You nod, bringing your fork to your mouth and chewing carefully. Your father’s eyes never leave you.

You excuse yourself from the table after that, telling your father that you just want to go to bed. He waves you off telling you he’ll see you tomorrow. You know that isn’t true.

You’re quiet as you make your way upstairs. Your eyes constantly scanned for maids or guards, but no one seemed to be around. You make your way to your father’s office at the end of the hall, silently hoping that the door is unlocked. You carefully turn the knob to the heavy wooden door, and it opens. You slip inside, closing the door behind you. You knew exactly where to find what you were looking for. Your eyes land on the photo of you hanging on the wall. You were 7 in the picture, you were dressed in a purple kimono decorated with white flowers. Your hair had been pulled into a tight bun and decorated with flowers. It was Shichi-Go-San. That photo was taken on the steps of the shrine you visited that day. You vaguely remember feeling like a princess all dressed up. You pull the picture from the wall, laying it on the floor at your feet. Built into the wall was a safe. You punch in the code —your birthday. The safe beeps, and you hear the lock turning. The safe opens a second later revealing the mountains of papers stacked inside. You groan rolling your eyes. You wished your father was more organized. It takes longer than you would have liked, to sift through all of the papers. Eventually, you find what you were looking for. When you were in middle school your father acquired several businesses and properties in your name, but you never had access to any of the funds or information. Now you did. You close the safe back, making sure it’s locked before you put the photo back in place. You fold the papers carefully before tucking them into the waistband of your pants and covering them with your shirt. You’re quiet as you slip out of your father’s office, closing the door behind you.

Your father had acquired 25 businesses and properties in your name over the last 7 years. He’s also collected 3.5 billion yen from these assets. God only knows where that money is now though.

You sit at your vanity, organizing the paperwork for each company and property into a neat pile before putting them into separate folders. You couldn’t stand your father’s methods of organizing, or lack thereof. Besides, you had nothing better to do at the moment. It was 11:45, and Shuji still had 15 minutes before the guards would change shifts and give him the opportunity to come in through the downstairs window you had unlocked earlier, 15 more minutes before your life changes.

Those 15 minutes went by faster than you expected. Your phone pings with a message from Shuji.

‘You ready?’

‘Yes, meet you downstairs’

You flip your phone closed, leaving it on your vanity. You open your vanity drawer, next to your make-up brushes sits a wad of cash. You slip it into your pocket before leaving your room.

You take the stairs 2 at a time. You don’t want to miss what’s about to happen. When you make it to the bottom of the stairs you realize Shuji beat you there. His dark silhouette stands behind the couch, his gun pressed to the back of your father’s head. You can hear the low rumble of Shuji’s voice, it sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re too far to make out his words. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes widen at the sight. A small part of you wonders if your fathers scared at all, but a larger part of you couldn’t care less. Your nails dig into your palms as you clench your fists, waiting for Shuji to pull the trigger. You hear your father whimper, and then a gunshot rings out. The bullet goes clean through his head, shattering the TV hanging on the wall across the room. All of the air goes out of you as you watch your father slump over on the couch. Shuji turns to you, lowering the gun. The moment your eyes meet his you spring into action. Rushing towards him you pull the wad of cash from your pocket holding it out to him. Shuji takes it from you, stuffing it in the pocket of his hoodie. You grasp the front of his hoodie, tugging him closer. You rock onto your toes to kiss him, Shuji leans down to meet you. His free hand comes up to grasp the back of your head, tangling in your hair. When you part you let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you.” You look up at Hanma, you hope he understands just how grateful you are.

Shuji gives you a smile, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I promised you didn’t I?”.

You nod, taking the gun from his hands. “You should go now, the guards will come soon.”

Shuji nods, “I’ll see you soon.” He says.

“Yes.” You breath.

You watch Shuji make his way back to the window he had climbed through, you tuck the gun into the waistband of your pants letting your shirt cover it. Once he’s gone you turn your attention back to your father. You walk around the couch to get a better look at him. He’s slumped onto his side as if he started to lie down for a nap. His forehead had been blown open, exposing his skull and bits of his brain. It was staining the couch. You lean forward, caressing your father’s face. If only he’d been a better man. You take a step back from the couch before letting out the most blood-curdling scream you could muster.

It only takes a moment before maids and guards come rushing into the room, nearly tripping over each other to see what happened. You stand back, your hands covering the smile on your lips as tears slip down your cheeks. You watch as the maids rush to call the police and the guards try to figure out what happened.

After a while, a maid takes you by the arm. She leads you to the room, murmuring something about a lady not seeing these things. The maid is gentle as she helps you prepare for bed. She says nothing when she sees the gun peaking out of your waistband when you change.

When the maid slips out of your room, leaving you alone you flop down on your bed. Staring up at your ceiling it finally hits you. He’s dead. You let out a giddy laugh, if you hadn’t seen his body you might not believe it. Your father is dead, and he’ll never touch you again.

𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓝𝓮𝔁𝓽

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉: @duchess-rowan-lover @tr-mha-fan

[kneelingshadowsalome]

would you ever be interested in writing a more masc reader? i kind of got it by know you write fem!reader exclusively, so i've been wondering if you'd write something along the lines a manly gal.

like the type that sees könig do his pushups, she must also immediately try to catch up to him? she sits manspread and wears manly clothes and makes everything a raunchy sex joke and has no shame and is kind of a muscle mommy and a total gremlin? something like that? and it disarms könig completely cuz he's used to damsels in distress, but this one can do everything herself but somehow wants him?? like an equal partner?

also can u pls tell each of your königs i love them with all i have? pls? 🥺 they're like my reason for living this past year i wanna give them a big sweet kiss and pet them

🤲 here, have an offering as gratitude. ignore the arms lol

Maaaan your offering 😭😭💖💞

And yes I have a habit of writing König with helpless maidens and sassy fairies don’t I 😂

So… König with masc!reader…. (Lol this turned out very rivals to lovers but I hope you enjoy!)

König can be a little off-putting. One would think that a man of his size wouldn’t get so threatened by a girl with some muscles on her... But you catch him mansplaining guns to you more than once, showing off his new rifle and then snapping his mouth shut when you fire a round of 5 bullseyes with a calm, stable breath and perfect posture.

“It’s nice,” you give it back to him, “but I’ve seen better.”

Knowing that you just threw his own words back at him – he’s always boasting on the field – König just blinks and grabs his rifle from you.

“...Where?”

“In my safe,” you shrug, trying to keep a neutral face.

And you’ve seen him during sparring, knowing already that he likes to one-up everyone. König is skilled and fierce, but he’s also competitive to the point of petty, which is why you’re amused when he suddenly turns gentle, even hesitant when paired with you.

At some point, it starts to get on your nerves though. It’s slightly insulting, even sexist, that he’s trying to treat you like a gentleman when you’re supposed to hit each other. So, you snap a good right hook through his guard and watch the man see some stars. Hoping that it would fix that attitude, you do it again, and again until he stops giving you the princess treatment.

But even after that, you see he’s holding back. The more you try to get him to attack properly, the more pissed off he gets, refusing to strike you even when you bring him down – a man twice your size – and gloat over him. His eyes are flaming because he just lost for the sake of some weird “I don’t hit women” policy, and it shouldn’t bother you. The man’s an asshole, what are you to do?

Still, it’s giving you a headache. Did you win the match only because he allowed it? You almost smack him in the head again. You already dealt with these kinds of idiots at the training program, and now you have to take shit from pros too? While you’re the pro? Jesus.

Determined to give him hell for the rest of the week, you make a lousy joke about the size of his gun when you go on a mission. It’s a bit unhanded, because this lame ass fool actually gets bothered by your quip, and you mentally beat yourself up for messing with your partner’s head before an important hostage rescue.

He barges through the door like a bull, and you purse your lips under your balaclava – on the other hand, is it even your fault if he gets killed because of some stupid Freudian joke?

This guy is simply too much fun…

So what happens is that you can’t keep your mouth shut. It’s horrid, what comes out of your lips when he’s trying to save lives. Things such as:

“Do you have your gun in hand?”

“I’ll keep an eye on your six while you take the women”

“Did you see their faces when König rammed himself in?”

The innuendos are obvious and rampant and so bad that König is surely blushing under that hood before you even board the plane. On top of everything, he rubs the barrel of his gun up and down in the plane because he’s so nervous. He does it absent-mindedly; the poor guy probably doesn’t understand the outrageous amount of Freudian jokes that could be cracked about that…

You try to pull yourself together after that because otherwise, people would start to suspect you’re having a crush on him. Army humour is army humour but you’re taking this shit a bit too far… Your jokes have never been this bad before, they certainly never induced such crazy behaviour from a guy.

...Because it turns out that you’ve awoken a demon.

At the gym, you see König watching you do pull ups – you’re the only girl there, yes, but you don’t wear some sculpting, seamless gym pants and a suggestive sports bra. You only have your old sweats and a tank top on, but the man's looking at you like he’s dreaming of either killing or fucking you. He's smashing the plates around like they've just personally insulted him, and glares at your way again, then lifts more than you’ve ever seen anyone lift before. He never talks to you: just stops and stares when you’re doing a set, then does his own, then glares.

You don’t know if it’s some kind of an awkward challenge or if he’s trying to flirt with you – menacingly – but you’re a mess after that gym session.

Next time during training, König personally offers to spar with you: he even pushes away the guy that had been assigned as your pair. And this time, he doesn’t hold back. He’s serious, and rough, and fucking frightening.

“That’s it, big boy,” you’re panting before half a minute has passed, “You finally found your groove?”

“No talking during sparring,” he grunts, and almost manages to land a blow – almost, because it ends with him on the floor. The takedown is something even KorTac’s best would be proud of, but he doesn’t allow you to gloat this time. Oh no: he rolls through it: actually, he rolls so that he lands on top of you, then smashes his whole weight on your chest to keep you down.

“Right where I want you,” he says, so brunt and brief that you’re not sure if you just imagined it.

“Is...that...so?”

You try to fight him in vain: he only presses you further into the mat and forces even your face to the side with his own.

“I thought you liked girls,” he pants into your ear, so low that the others can’t hear.

“That’s funny,” you whisper through clenched teeth, fingers curled around his shirt. “I thought you liked girls.”

You hear him draw air right beside your ear, and then – it’s unmistakable, the throbbing pulse against your thigh.

He’s getting hard.

The fucking moron is getting hard during a sparring session with you–

“There’s no need to crush your partner,” the trainer instructs, to everybody grinding on the mat in general, perhaps, but you have a feeling he’s directing the words König who’s currently choking you with his entire body.

“Is this what you want?”

He lets you breathe, only enough so you can turn and have another staring competition with him, this time with his mouth only a hair’s breadth away. Those eyes are hard as steel and as beautiful as snow, and that stare still wants to either fuck or murder you…

“Hm? You want to get crushed?”

“...Why do you think I joined the army?” You laugh breathlessly, eyes glimmering from mirth. He’s such a sight when he’s angry and confused.

Your cheeky answer only makes him more perplexed. Poor man – it’s so easy to tease him that you almost feel like a bully.

“That's right... Take your time getting up, there’s no need to rush,” you breathe, and watch the snow melt into a bewildered cerulean sea.

It sets sooner than you thought, his lids dropping as he settles to watch your lips, the heavy pulse on your neck.

“Oh I’m up already.”

[musamora]

Hello I hope your having a great day/night but I was wondering if you could do headcannons for Sigma and Dazai with an s/o with social anxiety disorder (like for me I get chest pains and nausea in social situations I’m nervous in, like being around alot of people or awkward situations and very shy to new people) thank you so much if you do end up doing this I love your writing so much btw! :D

𝖘/𝖔 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖘𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖓𝖝𝖎𝖊𝖙𝖞

content. gn!reader. social anxiety disorder, panic attacks, cuddling, hurt/comfort. not proofread.

author's note. this is my first time writing for sigma, so i hope it is not incredibly out of character!

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 would probably initially panic himself.

You cannot tell me this man does not have his own anxiety problems (but it’s more general anxiety rather than social-specific anxiety). But at the very least, he could relate deeply to your pain.

His first initial response is to get you away from the social situation immediately (utilizing his casino manager persona). However, if he can’t get you out of the situation, he will be there for you both emotionally and physically. It’s displayed either by him holding your hand or waist and him constantly making eye contact with you to make sure you’re still okay.

If you’re at an event that you absolutely cannot leave, he’ll take you aside occasionally to a secluded corner to allow you to breathe with him. He is constantly checking up on you throughout the entire event, usually by observing your facial expressions and posture. And if someone is rude to you, that manager persona is in full force.

That man may be a complete nervous wreck (all the time), but it’s almost like the switch flips in his brain whenever someone treats you rudely. (Don’t let him touch the machine guns, though. You’ll have a lawsuit on your hands).

If the event becomes a big stressor, to the point of you having a panic attack, it doesn’t matter what obligations either of you have; you are leaving ASAP.

Once both of you arrive back at your shared suite in the casino, he will constantly question whether you’re okay.

You are absolutely having a little spa night with him – no choice. You’re gonna receive some good TLC to make sure you’re back to 100%. He’ll even order your favorite meal and desserts via room service. You won’t even have to leave the comfort of your bed.

When you head to sleep, he checks on you one last time, massaging any remaining tense muscles as he soothes you to sleep. After all, both of you are in this together.

"It's okay, love. I'm right here with you. Breathe with me, okay?"

At the start of your relationship, 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 probably dragged you into multiple social situations by accident (it’s the Osamu Dazai Effect). And honestly, he thinks it’s very cute with how shy you are.

However, once he realizes that these situations cause you actual stress, he starts to feel a bit bad for the previous experiences (this man would be thinking about each situation he had dragged you into, feeling more guilt when he remembered your expressions). He becomes a lot more watchful with the situations you both get involved in.

Don’t get me wrong, the Osamu Dazai effect will unavoidably drag you both back into another situation, but if he can prevent unnecessary stress for his baby, he will. In those inevitable situations, he makes sure to stay as physically close to you as possible (unless he absolutely can’t). For those who know him, it looks like he’s being his clingy self, but it’s all for the purpose of comforting you. 

He wants to make sure you know that he’s right there with you, that he’s not gonna let anything bad happen to you.

When the other people involved in the conversation are distracted, he’ll whisper reassurances to you in hopes that it’ll calm you down.

He’ll try to leave the situation as soon as possible, sometimes walking away from the other person mid-conversation.

Also, God forbid someone was mean to you.

There is a reason this man was called the Demon Prodigy—anyone who makes his lover uncomfortable or upset is gonna have a deep problem with him. After all, the saying is that the worst misfortune for Dazai’s enemies is that they are Dazai’s enemies.

Once you both get away, he’ll subtly check in on you in his typical Dazai way (which means mostly by being touchy and over-affectionate, unless you don’t like that).

However, you will receive a hug from this man.

And come on, I don’t doubt that he would be the type to give some of the best hugs when he is in a more serious mood. While he probably runs at a cooler temperature, the large jacket that he wears radiates heat. You’ll be snuggled up against him in no time.

Speaking of snuggling, if the social situation left you especially drained to the point of exhaustion, he would hands-down use it as an excuse to leave work early so that he could cuddle with you while you rest—after all, he needs to keep his baby happy and healthy :)

"Don't worry about talking, dear. I'll take care of everything."

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath

© MUSAMORA 2023 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[doro6o]

ada felt sick. sick to her stomach. she wanted to throw up, throw everything up inside her but she couldn’t. she composes herself, she steadies herself by closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, fixing her posture and letting her arms fall to her sides but her eye twitches.. in what? rage? disgust? pain? she didn’t know and she doesn’t want to.

you, her companion, watch her break quietly. you saw the way the tiniest light in her eyes faded; just when you were teaching her how to be kinder, to be more gentler. you contemplated whether to reach out for her when you saw her fingers twitch, you wanted to hold her, tell her something to make her feel better but the words never formed in your tongue so you just stood there. you see the way her body stiffens and how the hair on her neck practically stood up when she saw her clone and you never understood sympathy until now.

you send your sympathies to the broken woman before you.

people see her as a sex object; nothing more or nothing less. they crave to hear her voice or feel her hand cradle their faces. they stare at her with lust in their eyes. lick their lips like she was some kind of five star meal. she once thought before that maybe leon might be her saving grace but she only inflicted her pain towards him.

when you first meet ada, you see the fragileness of her in her eyes. the eyes that barely held light and any emotion yet you saw right through her facade, it scared her. she points a gun to your forehead but you don’t budge instead you just smile at her, tell her that it’s all right.

ada isn’t sure what made her lower her gun. was it because it would be a shame to waste your skills? or how there was light that shines brightly in your arms despite knowing how the world works? or was it when you gave her the warmest smile that took her back? maybe she’s gotten soft around the edges but she lets you live. she lets you pick; to meet your fate, start anew or accompany her. she didn’t mind having you around with your skills and knowledge, you’d be a useful hand around. another pawn to use despite your annoying nagging and constant tummy rumbles.

ada flickers her gaze from the screen and back to you. she didn’t know what to say, let alone feel. in the back of her mind, she thanks having you with her and shows her the ugly truth of this world again with your stupid technology you always bring around but she curses you badly for always looking out for her.

for once, why could you not mind your own business and let her hesitate during a battle?

“i know what you’re thinking,” you gulped. you took a few steps back, your gut tells you to when you saw that murderous glint in her eyes. “but i cannot let you hesitate for one second out there-”

“i would have figured it out one way or another.” she cuts you off, hand dropping the tablet down the ground and you hear the screen crack.

great. another waste of money. “i let you stay because i know you’re useful, not because i needed a guardian to look after me every goddamn time!” she spats out, venomously. ada takes steps forward, you see how her fingers twitch.

“why do you care so much?”

“because i love you, ada.”

you shut your eyes, awaiting the bullet that would pierce your head or maybe some part of your body like she always does but it never comes. instead, you hear a ragged breathing and smacking of wet lips.

you slowly flutter your eyes open; before you, stood ada whose eyes are full blown wide and the color in her face fading, like she’s seen a ghost. then you realize what you had said. you bit your tongue down harshly.

right now there is no time for such confessions to be known but with the way those words always seem to threaten to roll off your tongue in any given second, it seems to have successfully done as you both stood there like total idiots.

you sigh, you cannot let yourself get carried away. same goes for ada so you reach out to her, caressing her shoulder.

“c’mon we got work to do.”

as the sound of your boots clicking on the ground fade, ada was certain of one thing: you’re not coming out with the same bright look in your face this time.

[etoiline]

that thing you used to be

(read with tags and characters on AO3 instead)

“I’m gonna go record a bedtime story for Kata,” Bode says, and Cal reaches out to snag his sleeve before he can turn.

“Stay,” Cal says, emboldened by their hug. “You can tell me a story too. Force knows I need some sleep.”

Bode looks down at Cal’s hand, his whole posture stiff. When he looks up at Cal, his lips are pressed so tight the skin around them turns white.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Bode says, finally, and Cal feels like there’s something he’s missing. The Force is silent around Bode, even when Cal reaches out for him.

“Stay,” Cal says, and pushes himself upright, so he can take Bode’s gloved hand. The leather is soft under his fingertips, worn smooth in the divot between thumb and forefinger where the grip of his blaster would rest. Cal traces it and smiles, thinking of the callus that’s forming on his own gun hand.

Then he looks up at Bode, lips parting as he catches the intensity in the older man’s eyes. Cal doesn’t know what he’s done to merit such a look, but he tries to match that dark gaze, stroking over the leather. A relter calls from deep into the ruins, and Cal is glad of the excuse to tear his eyes away. His cheeks are warm, even though the Jedha night is cold as it edges toward dawn.

“If you really wanted me to stay you wouldn’t ask me to give up Tanalorr to the Hidden Path,” Bode says, his voice so quiet he might have just been talking to himself.

Cal’s mouth falls open, but he’s not sure what to say. Bode had been so accepting of the idea earlier, he’d thought, and the joy that coursed through him then, that he was doing the right thing, for the Jedi, for the galaxy, what had gone wrong?

Bode shakes his head as if he can hear Cal’s confused thoughts. “I have to keep Kata safe,” he says, staring past Cal into the desert. “There’s no way she’s gonna be safe if the Empire finds out about Tanalorr. And they will find out, Cal, if we’re flying the hyperlanes with fugitive Jedi. The Empire already knows about this planet, and they’re so close to finding the Jedi right under their noses. All it takes is one stray transmission, one spy in your ranks—you don’t know, one could be here already.”

“What are you saying? Bode, no one here is a spy,” Cal says. “And it’s not like we’re going to blast a map of the route to Tanalorr all over the holonet. We’ll keep folks safe there. Even Kata. But I thought she was with friends? Someone’s taking care of her, makes sure she gets those bedtime stories you send all the time, right?”

Gloved hands suddenly squeeze Cal’s shoulders, tight enough that he wonders if he’ll bruise. Bode’s expression is wild, broken, the remnants of the fire flickering across his face. “You don’t understand, scrapper. I made a deal to keep her safe. And I thought that Tanalorr was a way to get out of that deal, but not if you want to open up this haven. If it was just us—then we could survive. But the moment we start ferrying more people there—void, the second we start supplying the place, because we don’t even know what in the seven hells is on that rock—you know the Empire will find us.”

Cal frowns. “I don’t think it could be that bad,” he says. “We’ll be careful, disguise our movements, vet the people we work with; they haven’t found us yet.”

Bode closes his eyes, exhales, the breath stirring Cal’s hair. “They already have, scrapper.”

He drops his hands from Cal’s shoulder and reaches into one of the pockets on his belt, holds out the holopuck he’d shown Cal on Coruscant. Cal takes it, brushes over the control to send the wavering blue image of Bode’s daughter spinning in the air. But there’s something else shining on the puck, an echo, tightly curled against the duraplast. It’s a bleak and angry one, Cal can tell, without even touching it, and dread curdles in his stomach. But he can’t resist an echo, so he lays a finger on it, because he has to know.

“...there, Denvik, you know everything about Jedi terrorist Cal Kestis. He thinks we’re best friends. Now let me talk to my daughter.” It’s Bode’s voice, the echo burning his anger through Cal’s veins.

Denvik chuckles, and Bode imagines the man to be steepling his fingers in that metal-filled Imperial office, and Bode wants to reach through the commlink and choke the life from him. “It sounds like you’re more than friends,” Denvik says, the words oily even through the spotty connection. “I find myself wondering if you’ve lost your way, Bode. If you’ve fallen back into old habits.”

Bode seethes, but he can’t say anything in protest, or Denvik will realize just how close to the truth he is. “Remember, Bode, the ISB is not an organization to be trifled with. I took you back because I trained you, and it would be such a shame to lose your skills. But if you continue to string out this...this infatuation with the thing you used to be, well. I’m afraid your daughter will just have to wait a little longer for her bedtime story, hmm?”

Cal is quite surprised to find the holopuck still intact in his hands as the echo breaks. Bode’s rage shudders through him, and there’s only one thought swirling through the white haze in Cal’s mind. Bode is an ISB agent. It’s on repeat, a holoprojector stuck in a bit of code. Bode is working for the Empire.

He realizes he’s shaking when his knees buckle, but Bode’s strong hands are there to catch him, to hold him, and Cal wants to sink into that hold, but he keeps thinking Bode=Empire like he’s a glitchy droid and pulls away.

The rock wall at the edge of the platform is right there, and Cal sags against it. The holopuck echo still pulses in his hand and he wants to throw it away, smash it to the ground, let it shatter against the boulders far beneath, but it’s Bode’s only link to Kata, and no matter how much he hates—yes, hate is the right word here, even if it breaks Cal’s heart to think it—at this moment, Cal can’t bring himself to destroy that tether.

Cal sets the holopuck on the rock, so gently the duraplast doesn’t even click against the stone. The Jedha sands stretch out before him, red rocks turned purple in the false dawn. False. More than friends. Lost your way. To think, Cal had wanted him to stay, the longing thick in his voice however he tried to hide it. Bode is working for the Empire.

The man is a strange warmth at Cal’s back, close enough to feel but holding an artificial tension between their bodies. Cal could break it with a breath, could draw his saber in a Force-quick motion and spin before Bode could stop him. Bode would heave back, hands up, the yellow blade close enough to crisp the leather of his holster. All this time, Bode was a spy.

“Was any of it real?” Cal says, and hates the way his voice breaks on the last word. A scrape of boot on rock and Cal sees Bode come up next to him, placing a hand over the holopuck, his fingers millimeters away from Cal’s. It might as well be parsecs, Cal thinks, as streaks of light appear over the horizon. His eyes slide to the gloved hand next to his, and he wonders if the Empire provided those gloves, if anything about how Bode presents himself is real, or just a skin provided by the enemy.

“I never lied to you, Cal,” Bode says, rough. “but I never told you everything, either. I was just trying to keep Kata safe, and at first the way to do that was to feed my handler information. But you, and your crew—I made myself into the person you needed, and it felt good. And then I made a mistake, Cal. I fell for my own line. And for a while I let myself believe that it didn’t matter, that I could keep going that way, that I could let myself fall for a while. But then you wanted to give away our haven, and—and I couldn’t pretend. My life’s in your hands now, Cal. Mine and Kata’s. I have to hope that it’s enough to at least make you think about the consequences about opening up Tanalorr.”

Cal closes his eyes against the brightening dawn, against Bode’s revelations, against the chill that rushes over his skin. He’s been spying on us since the beginning. But he won’t be able to do that anymore. Can’t spy on your mark when the mark knows you’re spying. Bode is useless to Denvik now, not that the man knows it yet. He’s lost, and a tiny smile sneaks past Cal’s guard to think of it. A blow to the Empire without having to fire a shot.

Sunrise is nigh; Cal can feel it in the Force, a held breath planet-wide. He narrows his focus to the man beside him, testing the borders of nullity. Bode feels the same to Cal’s senses as he always has. Nothing about him has changed since Cal’s learned the truth, only Cal’s understanding of him.

So Bode has likely reported on their movements, given his handler their profiles. So far, nothing has been done with that information; there’s been no chatter to suggest anything in the works. But soon enough, if Bode stops reporting, there will be, Cal is sure of it. And Kata will pay the price of her father’s defection. Determination rises in his chest. He won’t let that happen.

But not using Tanalorr as a base for the Hidden Path? It’s not up to him anymore. Preparation has already started. Maybe—maybe Bode was right, though. They really don’t know anything about Tanalorr other than it exists, and is presumably habitable to most species, from Cal’s dizzying walkthrough of Dagan’s memories. Maybe someone should go check it out first. Makes sense that a Jedi should do it, especially one who’s been there before, even if it was only in echoes.

Fog rises around them as the incipient sunrise warms the rocks, and everything turns soft and dreamlike. The two of them seem like the only solid things on the planet, and even Bode’s form, so close to Cal’s, seems to waver, a void in the Force where there should be light.

Needing assurance that this is real, Cal lets his pinkie finger move just that little bit so flesh meets the tiny strip of skin between Bode's glove and his sleeve. Even Denvik noted they were more than friends. Maybe Cal can figure out a way to move past Bode’s lies—or omissions, as it were. But that oily voice had also said old habits, and the thing you used to be, and what is that supposed to mean?

He stares down at their barely-touching hands, and sighs. “What was the thing you used to be, Bode?” Cal says, his voice lost in the fog. It seems important to know, if Cal is going to try to trust the mercenary again. “You owe me the truth, I think."

Bode inhales beside him, but doesn't say anything for a long moment. Call realizes he can feel the man's anxiety, but before he can parse that, Bode seizes his hand and pulls Cal toward him. Cal can't resist his strength, doesn't want to, but all he can muster is a palm to Bode's chest. Which doesn't really help the dizziness he's feeling, honestly.

Because Bode cradles his face in his hands and touches their foreheads together, and Cal's senses are filled with Bode, as the man opens himself to the Force.

Cal gasps, fists his fingers into Bode's collar, his other hand flailing until it lands on Bode's waist, holding on like his belt is an anchor in rough seas. The sensation washes over Cal like a wave as the sun finally breaches the horizon and makes him squeeze his eyes shut against the sudden brightness, and he revels in the glorious connection and loses his breath to it and asks why why why as his throat closes over hurt cries.

“I couldn’t tell you before, scrapper, and you know why,” Bode says, so quiet. “But you asked for the truth. Stars, you reached out so many times and I couldn’t reach back, as much as I wanted to. But if you’ll—if you’ll just think about what I’m saying, like I think you are, then it’s worth it, to stop hiding.”

How and how could you and you know I wanted to find other survivors swirl in Cal’s head and into the Force and wrap around Bode in a complicated cloud, and Bode chuckles wetly. “So many questions, scrapper, but look—it’s dawn. Things are already moving. What are we going to do about it?” he says, and Cal can feel his uncertainty in the Force. He can feel Bode in the Force, and Cal swallows his anger and disappointment and betrayal and just soaks in the sensation of a fellow Force-sensitive as the fog burns away around them.

Of course the sun has come up again. Of course time moves forward. Cal can only sway there in Bode’s arms as they embrace like they did before the sunrise, feeling like everything has changed.

Bode tightens his hold on Cal, then releases him and steps back, a wondering smile curving his lips. Cal keeps their hands tangled and knows he has a similarly silly grin on his face. The rising sun halos Bode’s head and makes Cal blink away tears. Bode wipes them away with gloved thumbs, and places a gentle kiss on Cal’s forehead.

Cal closes his eyes and listens as they breathe together, coiling his aura around another, awestruck to feel Bode reach back the same way. The sun warms his forehead as the last of the fog drifts into nothingness. His questions can wait for another sunrise, he thinks, and captures Bode’s lips in a kiss.

[dearabby1990]

Chapter 45: The Vacation of a lifetime

All boarded onto the plane everyone gets to their seats Mike & Dustin fighting over who should get the window seat when you settle it like a mother hen telling them you’ll flip a coin whoever wins gets the window on the way there whoever loses gets the window seat on the flight home. Dustin winning Mike sulks in his seat before Eddie flicks him in the forehead “hey perk up wheeler the wife worked hard for all of us to be here at least smile Christ kid” Mike rubs his forehead before turning to you “He’s right I'm sorry Jame I appreciate just being here but he always calls shot gun & I get the shit end of the stick” you chuckle ruffling his raven black hair “I’ll make you a deal wheeler no more bickering or sulking out of any of you & I’ll give you the surprise I have when after we settle into our rooms how’s that sound?” At this he straightens out his posture & smiles nodding his head “okay deal” Eddie laughs grabbing hold of your hand “you’re gonna be an amazing mom you know that? I’ve never seen anyone handle those 3 the way you do they love you too ya know” this makes your heart melt even more then it already has “I know that’s why they’re here Ed’s they’re an important part of who we all are & they’ve all been through so much I think everyone here deserves a nice break from the hell storms that have been our lives” “I second that shit!” Gareth shouts from across the aisle you start laughing. The flight attendants start their emergency drill announcements as we all buckle up. Eddie’s never been on a plane before & he’s very nervous so you make sure to hold his hand extra tight as the plane begins taking off as soon as it levels out you open your window & tap his shoulder “Ed’s look how beautiful the clouds are” he slowly turns his head afraid to look at first but once he gets sight of the different colors streaking the sky among the clouds his eyes twinkle & he smiles “it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen almost as beautiful as you” kissing your cheek “I love you Ed’s” “I love you too sweetheart”. You both doze off shortly after to be woken up by Mike “hey guys we’re getting ready to land soon” you sit up giving him a thankful smile tapping Eddie “thanks Mike, hey Ed’s it’s time to wake up hun”. The landing went smoothly Eddie’s nerves being a lot calmer now that he knows he’s heading to the ground. Getting off the plane you see a long row of beautiful natives in traditional wear holding an assortment of colorful leis the younger ones faces light up at how beautiful everything is & we’re only at the airport descending down the stairs each of you is greeted by someone with a hug & kiss to the cheek & a beautiful lei Eddie looking at you as he notices the purple one that was sat around your neck. “How ironic is that sweetheart it’s your color” your eyes began to water “honey what’s wrong?” You smile grabbing his hand “when we were landing I prayed & asked mom if she can hear me to send me purple flowers & that I missed her & loved her & wished she was still here with me I think she heard me” he wipes your eyes “of course she can hear you love she watches over you all the time just like mine I swear she’s saved me on multiple occasions” you hug him tightly “alright everyone let’s go grab our bags & head to the car rental place let’s get a move on I got to find a restroom fast” “yeah me too dude I feel like I’m about to piss my pants I was too scared to use the bathroom on the plane” shouts dustin. Deciding it’d be easier to get two vehicles just in case the older ones could go exploring if they wanted you all head towards your resort Eddie guiding the group while you navigate with a map. “Okay hun we’re almost there 2 more miles” Dustin Mike & Lucas are in your vehicle & gareth Jeff & freak are in the other. Pulling into the front of the resort you decided it’d be easier to check everyone in yourself. You & Eddie in a honeymoon suite gareth Mike & Dustin in one suite & freak Jeff & Lucas in another.

Jogging back to your rental car you toss you & Eddie’s key in your seat before jogging to Gareth’s vehicle to give him a key & Jeff the key to the other “okay guys suites are set up for groups of 3 gareth you have Mike & dustin Jeff it’s you two & Lucas follow us to the parking garage & I’ll show you where we’re all staying” “okay sis you got it lead the way” you run to the car hopping in your seat “okay love rooms are set let’s go park they’re already dropping bags at the rooms Mike dustin you two are with gareth & once we get settled we’ll meet at me & Eddie’s room to discuss a few things” pulling in was a breeze as you all check out your surroundings on the way to the rooms seeing everyone look extremely excited & happy. Everyone pops into their designated rooms while you & Eddie check out your suite. Two floors with the master bedroom on a beautiful loft overlooking the ocean that has a deck attached with a shower & is connected to the crystal blue water. A room fit for royalty champagne & lots of fresh fruit & flowers full living room & kitchen & dining set “wow sweetheart you truly outdid yourself” “it’s our honeymoon Ed’s I wanted it to be special” he wraps his arms around the back of you “anywhere we’re together is special because all I’ll ever need is you” as he peppers your face in loving kisses. Your love fest is interrupted by a knock at the door “who is it?” You say warmly a weird voice booming through the crack of the door “it’s da cable guy open da door” Eddie shaking his head “fuckin Jeff damn ass clown” swinging the door open all the boys pile in chuckling “holy shit this room is INSANE!” Lucas walks around eyes wide scanning the suite “yeah seriously what did you do to get a suite this nice sell an organ?” You laugh shaking your head “boys I’ve had a large sum of money for some time I just didn’t want to touch it until I knew it was the right time hence our wedding our home & property & this vacation with you guys not to mention the business I wanna open invest some so we have something as a nest egg for the future maybe pass it down to our children still not 100% sold on what I want to do yet but when the time does come dustin I’m gonna need your genius to help me with a few things but other then that I’m glad you’re all here with us on this trip you’re all here because you hold a special place in me & Eddie’s life now I’m gonna continue but before I do Ed’s is there anything you wanted to say?” He took your hand & smiled “okay fellas let’s make this trip one for the books life’s passing us by faster than any of us could’ve anticipated new chapters are beginning big things are happening but no matter what happens we all still have each other how about a toast to me & Jamie’s new marriage this amazing trip she planned for all of us & to new beginnings & bright futures” you pull out enough glasses for everyone & a bottle of champagne & a few cans of Dr Pepper pouring sodas for yourself & the kid’s & champagne for the adults passing out glasses to everyone Eddie being the first to raise his in the center of the room “To Mr. & Mrs. Munson & to new beginnings with amazing people” “cheers” around the room dustin Mike & Lucas wanting to taste champagne for the first time but all of you laughing as they make sour faces finding somewhere to spit it out. “The kitchens to the left guys” you chuckle shaking your head once they get back mike is rocking on the balls of his feet looking at you both with anticipation “so what’s that surprise you were talking about?” You smile at him before going to your bags digging around for the 3 boxes that were meant for the boys at the wedding but beings it’s an early released item to being with your glad to have even gotten your hands on some of them. “So I’ve been in contact with my god father you 3 really remind me of him at times I’m not sure if you guys are familiar with Sega Corp but he works for them & I got my hands on some prototypes that are set to be released until next year around Christmas so…. I hope these get put to good use”

The 3 of them looking at each other with wide eyes unable to even form words as you set the 3 very large gift bags in front of them & take a seat on Eddie’s lap “Well go on open them” with that the 3 boys plop onto the floor like little ones of Christmas morning tissue paper flying in every direction until they see the consoles box sitting at the bottom slowly removing them to get a good look “No way!! This is bitchin’!” Mike is the first to break the silence Dustin looks up at you blue eyes blown wide in excitement before you could ask if he was alright he gets up bolting across the room to engulf you into a hug followed by the other two boys “this is the best day ever thank you Jamie” you’ve never seen Lucas smile so bright before & it makes you happy that you can do something special for them. “You’re welcome guys now Mike can teach El a thing or two about video games ah speaking of which I have these for everyone arcade cards basically get to play unlimited games with these something new they’re trying instead of quarters they use play cards that kind of work like bank cards oh & before i forget the receptionist at the front said they just got street fighter in so you guys are definitely gonna have a ball so go ahead have some fun & we’ll meet back here around 5:30 to head to dinner love you guys now scram I need a bath & a nap” Gareth laughs shaking his head “no worries you two I keep them in line enjoy your nap” & with that you & Eddie are finally alone. You see a glint of mischief written on his face before you know it he’s pulling you up onto the bed & begins jumping & tickling you both enjoying a moment to let loose for once. Once Eddie sees you’re getting tired he hops down heading to the bathroom to start a bubble bath for the both of you. Getting in once it’s the perfect temperature in each others arms looking at the beautiful scenery just outside the window. This is definitely one adventure that you’ll have stories to tell about for a lifetime. Here’s to forever & to a beautiful life with beautiful people making spectacular memories.

[hard-deckpilots]

Storm Season.

Fandom: Top Gun.

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader.

Summary: Whilst visiting Jakes home whilst in leave, the weather takes an unexpected turn. One you’re not use to, but one Jake has experienced many times.

Wordcount: 1.09k

Warnings: Talks about tornadoes. Not a tornado expert. Some swearing. Jake being comforting. Mentions of tornado damage.

Tags: @sebsxphia​

A/N: I’m basing this off a Instagram post Glen Powell just made, which is about a Twister reboot. And despite being one of the films I hate I am going watch and write about it. I was also going to do this one months ago but didn’t.

Images not mine.

Jake was a bit reckless as a teenager, anytime there was a tornado warning he’d go out in his truck and try to get as close to it as possible. Times have changed though, he’s a lot smarter and safer especially after an incident that happened in his town about 10 years prior. He knew it was a little bit of a risk to bring you home during storm season, but it was the only time off that he could get.

You on the other hand, had never experienced a tornado before so it was an entirely new experience. Growing up in Montanna there was maybe one or two a year, but you had never been around to witness them. Thankfully. The most severe weather you have ever experienced was the snow storms, which seemed to last forever.

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Sitting in the living room of Jakes family house, you sat there and the colour of the sky changed. When you woke up this morning the sky was a beautiful blue, but that quickly changed as clouds started to roll in. You went to the toilet and as you came back, you could see that Jake was standing at the window looking towards the sky. 

“Jake, you okay honey?” You asked wrapping your arms around his waist,

“I’m alright sugar. Just keeping an eye on the weather. Just wanna make sure we stay safe.” Jake smiled softly at you to keep the reassurance. Although Jake use to chase storms whenever they turned up, he knew how to read the clouds and the different warning signs that were given. Sitting back down, you noticed that Jake wouldn’t take his eyes off of the window. You turned your attention back to the TV and lost yourself in it for a little while. That was until you felt Jake stand up and head into the garden, you frowned a little and went after him.

"Y/n just prepared to have to go into the basement cupboard." Jake spoke holding your hand softly,

"Why? What's going on Jake?" You asked concerned in his sudden change of posture.

"Babe, look at the circulation of the cloud. That's turning into a supercell, that could produce a tornado at any point." Jake explained watching as the clouds started to darken, and the wind started to pick up slightly.

"Wait... Really? Jake please tell me you're not playing a joke on me." You speak worried, also trying to think why on earth you were standing by the outside in the first place.

Jake turned to you and put his hands on your arms softly. There was a hint of seriousness on his face, one that you don't usually see.

"Honey I need you to listen to me. This is the one thing I do not joke about. If I tell you to get to the basement cupboard, then we both go." Jake explained keeping calm but serious head.

You nod and for the next 5 minutes you stick next to him. Both of you watched TV until a message popped up in the middle of the show. A tornado warning. Jake stood up and grabbed your hand first, then grabbed some pillows and blankets.

"Come on darlin' we have to go downstairs now." Jake spoke calmly taking you to the basement.

You follow Jake, and he sets the blankets and pillows down in the basement cupboard. He sat you down then looked into your eyes.

"Listen to me. I'm just going to run upstairs quickly and I'll be right back down okay?" He stated quietly,

"Be right back yeah Jake?" You asked a bit scared.

"I'll be right back." Jake kissed your head softly and watched as he went back upstairs. You kept your breathing calm, as you waited for him to come back keeping your eyes on the stairs.

You watched as Jake came down the stairs fairly quick, missing a few steps as he came over to you. He sat down next to you and held you in his arms.

"Listen to me Y/n... Not matter what happens I'm going to be with you the whole time okay? I love you and no matter what, I love you." Jake spoke as he squeezed you in his arms.

Looking up at him with fear in your eyes and suddenly your ears pop. You put your hands to your ears trying to adjust to the sudden pressure change.

"I love you too Jakey, so so much." You spoke, Jake hearing the fear in your voice.

He pulled you onto his lap and covered your ears with his hands, trying to help you with the pressure change. But also because he could hear the roar of the tornado close by. He tells you to close your eyes and he holds you right against him.

One of the first thing you noticed when you started dating Jake, he had a wonderful singing voice. One that would calm you down. Where your head laid on his chest, you could feel him humming. Keeping you calm and keeping him calm.

"It's okay sweetheart... It's okay... We're okay... We're gonna be okay." Jake spoke keeping as calm as possible, hearing the roar from the tornado.

After about 10 minutes being in the basement cupboard, the noise had calmed down and Jake finally uncovered your ears.

"We're okay darlin', we're okay." Jake kisses your head and he can feel you shaking. "I'm gonna check outside okay? I'm gonna be right back..."

Jake stands up and walks up the stairs carefully. He reaches the top of the stairs and thankfully the rest of the house is still standing. But the garden and some other houses down the road weren't so lucky. He called down the stairs.

"Baby! It's okay you can come upstairs." Jake shouted down.

He waited a few minutes as you came up the stairs and instantly walked into his arms. You were still shaking slightly, but you were both alive.

"We're okay. It's all over." Jake whispered holding you close. After a while stood together, you finally pulled away and looked out of the windows. Jake opened the front door grabbing his boots and his yellow raincoat.

He stood in the middle of the street, looking at his surroundings and looking at the sky. Only a few homes destroyed. Those homes were already being attended to by emergency services. Jake sighs and walks back in, checking the power cables are still standing.

You could tell he was a little shaken, it was the first tornado in over 5 years that he had seen. But he focused on you. His focus was always on you. He kisses you softly.

"We're okay."

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Experienced Hero vs Inexperienced Villain part 1

Warnings: attempted murder of Hero (that fails rather spectacularly), questionably un-moral Hero toying with inexperienced Villain, hostage situation

Villain had thought of everything. He was sure of it. He'd spent months planning, plotting a trap for the infamous Hero. A person strong and proud that even the greatest supervillains often hesitated to engage. He'd heard many rumors about her, about how she wasn't like other heroes. How she would fight dirty when necessary. She was more of a morally-gray type character, apparently. And one of the most dangerous heroes around.

Villain was only 20, but he longed for the respect and acknowledgment greater villains had. How they were feared, and got what they wanted on a whim. Everyone always looked down on him because he was young and inexperienced, but he was about to prove them all wrong. He'd prove his worth, prove he was capable of fighting.

It's why he went to all the effort of targeting Hero in the first place. After all, supervillains and crime lords couldn't possibly ignore him if he successfully trapped and killed the most dangerous Hero alive.

He was determined to succeed where so many other villains had failed. If they refused to recognize his potential, he'd make them see it. And so Villain had meticulously crafted the perfect, foolproof plan. He was pretty proud of his technique, a simple but effective tactic he was to carry out.

Villain was in a bank, and had taken a hostage -- an older lady -- before ordering all other citizens to evacuate the building. He didn't try to steal anything, or even break into the vault. He just kept his hostage at gunpoint and patiently waited behind the front desk for the civilians he'd let escape to call up Hero to the scene. And he didn't have to wait long.

There was a flash of blue-and-red leather outside the front door, before Hero herself came skidding inside, in all her glory. It was the first time Villain had actually seen her up close -- he'd always studied his enemy through the screen of a TV or in newspapers. She was tall and imposing in real life, posture stiff and straight like a trained fighter. The media wasn't able to quite catch her regal grace on screen.

"Hero! Thank goodness, please help me--" the old woman in Villain's arms started crying hysterically, and Villain pressed the barrel of the gun harder into her temple.

"Quiet," he hissed harshly, and the woman stopped pleading, though the sobs didn't stop.

"Let the hostage go," Hero growled flatly. She only looked half-focused on the villain -- her gaze kept wandering around the room like she was looking for something in particular.

"Make me," Villain challenged with an audible sneer in his voice. Hero's face darkened, and she took a step forward. Villain's eyes excitedly tracked the movement. She just had to be a little closer...

Hero stopped a few inches shy of the trap Villain had set, and Villain scowled in frustration.

"Let your hostage go first, and then we can fight," Hero bargained -- why did it sound like a bargain!?

"No," Villain pouted. "You're not winning that easily. This hostage isn't going anywhere. I'm going to kill her in ten seconds if you don't find a way to stop me first."

"Are you?" The simple question caught Villain off-guard.

"Do you think I'm bluffing?!" Villain snarled loudly. But the hand holding the gun was subtly trembling. He'd never actually killed someone before. Someone innocent, that is. Killing Hero was a necessity, but to involve an elderly civilian...

No. He needed to stay focused. No distractions. "I'm not playing around!" He barked angrily. "I will unload this magazine into this lady's head without a second thought!"

"Really? Sure looks like you're having thoughts right now." Hero inched closer -- almost close enough to spring the trap. But her confidence was unnerving, how she so easily called Villain out on his lies.

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