#ive not had enough sleep so this is worded like garbage

[charliethemanticore]

I've decided I don't want live action adaptions of things anymore. I want animated adaptions always and forever with professional voice actors* and teams who are being treated with the decency they deserve (fiscally and emotionally).

Personally I'd prefer 2D animation or with a canny combination of it and 3D. I don't think a live action has to be the ultimate end goal of a piece of media and also if I see one more "!!! This [animated thing] is FINALLY getting a live action adaption!" As if that somehow validates it's value. It was valuable before and honestly I don't think live action is good at adapting animated things because you can do a lot of stuff in animation that just isn't possible in real life (see: animals, architecture, magic, some aspects of human anatomy etc) so it gets added in later to the point where it's just a different animated adaption this time with strange stylistic limitations.

Like. Idk man. I'm gonna use critical role as an example because I've been thinking about it. Can you imagine how crunchy that would have looked if they'd done live action? It has the possibility to have been great but like. With the amount of stuff that would have had to have been done in special effects or post (don't get me wrong I have massive respect for both those skills) there's so many points where it could have fallen flat. Fantasy is a genre that sort of lends itself to animation by the variety of weirdness going on. The Legends of Vox Machina works because they knew the medium they should reach for. They're voice actors, they know the value of animation and they reached for it because a live action adaption isn't the be all end all of media success.

Edgerunners is another one that would have been worse off if CDPR had reached for live action vs anime. With the current state of Hollywood it all would have been green screened in. It would have been CGI props and prosthetics and scenery. And while, again, that's not a BAD thing (until you look at what that looks like from an employee experience which is generally considered to not be great) if you're going to have to animate 90% of shit ANYWAY you should probably just fucking start there yknow?

I don't have an issue with live action. I love live action movies. I just don't think it should be treated as the Pinnacle of media. Live action shouldn't be the goal for every story. Like. I liked netflixs witcher (more or less). But I think Nightmare of the Wolf was gorgeous and I would have loved a Witcher series like that. (I also would have liked execs who cared about the source material and for Tim Aslam to have stayed on beyond season 1)

If we lived in a world where movies took years and costume designers and set dressers and prop builders and post teams were given the time and resources they need to make something glorious, I might be a little more sympathetic towards people reaching for live action first. But we don't and I'm not. Percy Jackson would work better animated. Witcher would work better animated. Avatar: The Last Airbender already worked better as animation.

Animation is a valuable and worthwhile medium in its own right. Not

Final note: this isn't about "they changed this characters hair/skin/eye colour in the live action!" I literally don't care about that. If I must have a live action adaption I would MUCH rather an actor who is good at their job vs someone who fits the description. This is about reducing animation to "being for kids" and live action "being mature and grown up" like. Come on now.

*(not big name screen actors who will draw a crowd. Its a different skill set and it's important to remember that but that's a soap box for another time)

#ive not had enough sleep so this is worded like garbage #but i have strong feelings and my partner has heard this rant so many times so yall get it instead #animation and live action are noth valuable meduims that excel in different areas of storytelling #long post #i guess #its long on mobile #which is where im writing it

[substanceuser971]

i started using my wheelchair at work to minimize my chronic pain and fatigue, and this next week since making that choice my hours got slashed. i already dont make much as a low wage part timer, the standard hours i was told id be working are barely enough to cover rent and bills so i need to apply for ssi, but now i have to worry about if my boss is deciding that she thinks im unfit to be working as much as im supposed to be working. im hoping its just a random incident but i dont know. shes been super weird about me using my wheelchair, i havent been feeling like shes actually hearing what im saying when i tell her i dont need any accommodations for my conditions, and she went out of her way to ask me for details about my disabilities despite me outright saying i dont need accommodations, which. that alone is against ADA guidelines. but im also scared of just being fired if i try to talk to her about the situation. a coworker offered to let me take her shift with permission from our boss, and if i understand whatsapp correctly, my boss saw my message about it but still hasnt replied.

i really am sinking again into that feeling of inferiority ive been trying to overcome. i feel like im seen as disposable garbage by the people around me. i feel like even when i try to make myself small and minimize my needs and keep to myself, others are so fucking bothered by the fact that i exist. like how dare i taint this storefront with my visible disability lmfao. when i fucking do my job BETTER with my wheelchair, because im not in as much pain. i can work LONGER shifts with my wheelchair, and i can preemptively avoid needing to call out sick with a flare up from pushing myself too hard, but i feel like my boss is having her vision clouded with ideas of what she thinks it means for someone to be disabled. she almost seemed upset with me for it, because i had told her when i was hired that i would be able to do every part of the job without accommodations, but i fucking CAN. im able to stand up at the register and get up to climb ladders on the rare occasion i need to do that. i told her all of that. its like my words dont mean a thing to her. i dont know if i can ever escape being looked down and the thought makes me want to just stay locked in my house constantly instead of having to deal with dirty looks and fucking employment discrimination.

i really just want to drink or get high. i feel like pot would help better, i think the depressive effect of alcohol would just make me feel even more miserable and then id feel even more inferior for not being able to stay away from it. at least with weed, id get the happy mellow feelings of being high and its something ive accepted i wont be able to quit anytime soon. i feel resigned to addiction honestly. i can barely sleep without weed, i need it to function like a normal fucking "human being" if thats even something i have the privilege of calling myself lol. as soon as i was able to buy more, i went right back to smoking every night the way i knew i would.

and its scary, when i dont have my cholesterol meds. i have to call the doctor on tuesday to get my information updated and ask about getting those refilled, but in the meantime i feel like i need to be extra careful what i eat and how much i smoke, because i can feel the heaviness in my chest, but im too poor to afford much healthy food and im stuck with smoking because edibles are too ineffective with my freak digestive system. they stop working after just a few days of use too close together. so since my budget was limited i only bought flower because thats the surest way i can get high.

honestly if it werent for my partner supporting me, and my finances already being shit, id be a lot more scared that id turn to much more destructive drugs. hes told me that hes here to support me through my struggles with alcohol, and ive started opening up a little about my cannabis use being an issue, he already knows im a massive stoner i just havent talked much about how destructive that is. and hes told me that his big limits are cigarettes and illegal drugs, which is a huge deterrent to keep me from even considering them, especially cigarettes since ive thought about it before and theyre way too easy to access. really my partner is the biggest reason im able to keep my addictions somewhat under control. and on the flip side, them thinking im cute when im high is at least comforting when i get down on myself for using too often. i want to be healthier about it, but i hope at least of its a lifelong struggle that she can still find value in me. thats an awful way of thinking about it but i dont know how else to. i want to be valuable because i dont trust that anyone will actually like me as a person beyond what i can do for them. when i really examine the situation, i dont think thats really the kind of person my partner is, but it gets hard to fully believe it when thats what im used to.

i feel fucking pathetic, constantly, all the time. im struggling and struggling and suffering and people hate it because i cant exist as easily as they all can. im too emotional and traumatized and disabled and mentally ill and obnoxious and socially clueless. i feel like it doesnt even matter what good i do, because even small mistakes or flaws are enough for people to decide they hate me. it doesnt feel fair but i dont even know if i deserve fairness. i feel like theres something innate about me that keeps me from being as much of a person as everyone else. i cant escape being scum. i hate it. to a degree i hate people. i dont understand how God has so much forgiveness for such a cruel species. i guess thats one of the things thats so great about Him, i couldnt do the same in His position. i admire Him for that, but its hard not to feel some degree of frustration that all these people are allowed to go about their lives being cruel and hateful and ignorant while the rest of us are pushed down and left to die if not outright killed. i understand thats probably the point, we need to learn to work together to make peace and improve the world because God cant step in Himself, but its difficult to trust that were going to get anywhere at this rate. i want to keep living but its hard to feel hopeful about it. i want to live a happy life with my partner and our future kids but i get so fucking scared that ill die before i get the chance. from lack of access to medical help, from lack of money to support myself, from any random health emergency that feels like it could pop up at any moment. i hate all of this. i want to love and be loved and i want to fucking make the world better by getting involved in my community but i feel like my time is so limited and it scares me. i feel like people wouldnt really care if someone as fucking pitiful as me died, because so many people view people like me as subhuman. and ive felt that all my life. i cant escape it but at least drugs and booze let me hide from it for a few hours out of the day.

[liriostigre]

hey! I wanted to ask what your favorite poetry books are? I have a few but I want to read new and interesting stuff, and I trust your taste :D

hiii ♡

tbh i only started reading poetry collections like,, last year. i'm subscribed to poetryfoundation's newsletter (poem of the day) so i usually just read random poems

anyway, i'm not sure my recs could be considered new (cause i'm gonna start with Mary Oliver ♡) but feel free to message me if you want to know the themes, style, feeling (vibes, if you will) or anything you want to know about these collections. for now, i'm linking my favorite poems in each collection, i hope this helps you choose! ♡

here you go:

Dream Work —Mary Oliver (“Wild Geese.” “Dogfish.”)

Red Bird —Mary Oliver (“Summer Morning.” “Love Sorrow.”)

Blue Horses —Mary Oliver (“To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song.” “Loneliness.” “Little Crazy Love Song.”)

The Wild Iris —Louise Glück (“Sunset.” “Retreating Light.”)

Haruko/Love Poems —June Jordan (“On a New Year’s Eve.” “Mendocino Memory.” “Toward a City That Sings.” *under the cut)

Extracting the Stone of Madness —Alejandra Pizarnik (“Primitive Eyes.” “Summer Goodbyes.” *under the cut)

Ariel —Sylvia Plath (“Tulips.” “The Rival.”)

Prelude to Bruise —Saeed Jones (“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat.” *under the cut)

Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth —Alice Walker (“Coming Back from Seeing Your People.” *under the cut)

I Must Be Living Twice —Eileen Myles (“Edward the Confessor.” *under the cut)

Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth —Warsan Shire (“Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre.”)

The Black Unicorn —Audre Lorde (“Hanging Fire.” “Sister Outsider.”)

Bright Dead Things —Ada Limón (“The Riveter.” “Glow.”)

Night Sky With Exit Wounds —Ocean Vuong (“Thanksgiving 2006.” “Logophobia.”)

Postcolonial Love Poem —Natalie Diaz (“Manhattan Is a Lenape Word.”)

Crush —Richard Siken (“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out.”)

Once —Alice Walker (“So We've Come at Last to Freud.”)

“Toward a City That Sings” by June Jordan

Into the topaz the crystalline signals of Manhattan the nightplane lowers my body scintillate with longing to lie positive beside the electric waters of your flesh and I will never tell you the meaning of this poem: Just say, ‘She wrote it and I recognize the reference.’ Please let it go at that. Although it is all the willingness you lend the world as when you picked it up the garbage scattering the cool formalities of Madison Avenue after midnight (where we walked for miles as though we knew the woods well enough to ignore the darkness) although it is all the willingness you lend the world that makes me want to clean up everything in sight (myself included)

for your possible discovery

“Primitive Eyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

Where fear neither speaks in stories or poems, nor gives shape to terrors or triumphs.

My name, my pronoun — a grey void.

I’m familiar with the full range of fear. I know what it’s like to start singing and to set off slowly through the narrow mountain pass that leads back to the stranger in me, to my own emigrant.

I write to ward off fear and the clawing wind that lodges in my throat.

And in the morning, when you are afraid of finding yourself dead (of there being no more images): the silence of compression, the silence of existence itself. This is how the years fly by. This is how we lost that beautiful animal happiness.

“Summer Goodbyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

The soft rumor of spreading weeds. The sound of things ruined by the wind. They come to me as if I were the heart of all that exists. I would like to be dead, and also to go inside another heart.

“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat” by Saeed Jones

I. Drugged, I dreamed you a plume of ash, great rush of wrecked air through the towns of my stupor. And when the ocean in your blood went toxic, I thought fire was what we needed: serrated light through the skin, grenade in the chest—pulled linchpin. I saw us breathing on the other side of after. But a blackout is not night; orange-bottled dreams are not sleep. II. I was a cross-legged boy in the third lifetime, empire of blocks in my lap while you walked through the door of your silence, hunting knife in one hand, flask in the other. I waited for you until I forgot to breathe, my want turning me colors only tongues of amaryllis could answer for. It owned me, that hunger, tendriled its way into my name for you. III. In a city made of rain each door, a silence; each lock, a mouth, I walked daily through the spit-slick streets, harbingers on my hands in henna: there will be no after Black-and-blue-garbed strangers, they called me Cassandra. (I had such a body then.) Umbrellas in hand, they listened while they unlistened. there will be no no. after

the world will end no.

you are the reason it no. ends

you no. IV. I didn’t exactly mean to survive myself. Half this life I’ve spent falling out of fourth-story windows. Pigeons for hair, wind for feet. Sometimes I sing “Stormy Weather” on the way down. Today, “Strange Fruit.” Each time, strangers find me drawing my own chalk outline on the sidewalk, cursing with a mouth full of iron, furious at my pulse. V. After ruin, after shards of glass like misplaced stars, after dredge, after the black bite of frost:        you are the after, you are the first hour in a life without clocks; the name of whatever falls from the clouds now is you (it is not rain), a song in a dead language, an unlit earth, a coast broken— how was I to know every word was your name?

“Coming Back from Seeing Your People” by Alice Walker

Coming back From seeing your people You were So wonderfully Full Of yourself.

But now You have supped With vampires They have fed Feasted On you.

They arise Bright-eyed Fit.

You alone have lost Not only Your sleep But also Your glow The luster of Affection Heart welcome Your people Sent home With you.

Beloved You must learn To walk alone To hold The precious Silence To bring home And keep the precious Little That is left Of yourself.

“Edward the Confessor” by Eileen Myles

I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It’s really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don’t do it well. She didn’t leave her wallet or us in a store. I’m just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It’s the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can’t quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. And there was— this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can’t do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don’t get out of here I’ll call the cops. Don’t call the cops we’ll go, we’ll leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn’t have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was scared too.

#btw!!!! i'm sorry!!! SO SORRY it took me weeks to reply 🤕 #hope you're having good days <3 #💌

[mybillyhardgrove]

He loves you, he loves you lots b.h.

A/n: if you haven’t read Mango Kisses, check it out :) this piece may be my favorite thing ive written so far and im excited for you to read it!

Disclaimer: i don’t own any Stranger Things material

Word count: 2467

Warnings: some cheeky remarks from billy and a couple curses

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader (female)

Summary: after being with Billy for a few months, it has become clear how he shows his love for you

Physical Touch

The touches had been deliberate at the start, meant to convey the interest you two had in each other. Flirty touches of his shoulder or arm as he talked to you in the school hallways or at random parties on the weekends. Gentle touches of your lower back as he walked past you, his chest rubbing a bit on your shoulder blades, though there was room enough for him not to need to be so close.

As your relationship developed, the touches became more frequent and less subtle. His arm draped around your shoulder or his hand in your back pocket, your legs crossed on his lap or your fingers intertwined with his. No matter what, it seemed that you were connected in some way almost all the time.

Finally, when you accepted Billy’s invitation to a date and you were officially his girl, the touching didn’t stop. Not that you minded. You found it so endearing that Billy seemed to reach for you, sitting with his knee touching yours, his hand on your back, his shoulder rubbing against yours, his hand on your thigh while he drove. It also seemed he didn’t realize he was doing it most of the time. It was an unconscious pull he had to you whenever you were near. One of your favorites was when you and Billy laid together and he played with the ends of your hair, rubbing his fingers together and smoothing the bumps away. It tended to relax you so much that you had to fight to keep your eyes open, lulled by his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body wrapped up in yours. “That feels nice, Billy.” You felt his chest vibrate as he laughed, pulling you closer and lightly scratching your scalp as you let sleep fall over you.

It meant even more to you that Billy was so comfortable being physically affectionate with you after you learned about his childhood and the physical and verbal abuse of his father. This point was driven home when you were sitting at a diner one evening, Billy’s sneakered feet rubbing yours as you sipped your milkshake. You grabbed his hand resting on the table, softly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles and giving him a soft smile. He squeezed your hand in response, wiping his mouth and making sure he had your attention.

“I’m glad you’re my girl.” Your smile immediately widened, teeth popping out.

“I am, too, Billy.” After a beat, “What made you say that?” He grabbed your other hand across the table.

“I’m just happy to have you. It feels nice that I can reach out and I know you’ll be there. Your hugs, the way you touch me, I’ve never felt that before. Usually it’s rough and my dad or a girl wants something from me. I like that you touch me and let me touch you so much because you’re happy.” You could see he was losing his nerve, pulling his hands away and preparing to put on the devil-may-care attitude that was common when with friends.

“I love you, Billy. And I love that you feel comfortable enough to share that with me. I hope I can always make you feel that way.” He looked up, smiling a little, the tension leaving his shoulders. You didn’t want to make him feel awkward by focusing on the confession too long, so you continued. “Now eat those fries before I steal some.” He chuckled and grabbed your hand again, reaching across with a fry for you.

Once he had dropped it in your mouth, he cleared his throat. “I love you, too.” You smiled widely again, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

Words of Affirmation

You were rushing to get ready, imagining the look on Billy’s face as he sat on the couch all ready to head to the party. Your hands were shaking a bit as you dusted the rose blush on your cheekbones and nose. As Billy’s girl, you could expect as always to be the center of attention for most of the night as girls looked at you in jealousy and boys looked at you while they talked with Billy. It wasn’t that you wished you weren’t with Billy, it just got tiring to have all eyes on you both.

“Are you almost ready to head ou-” as you turned towards the sound of Billy’s voice, you watched him lower the sunglasses from his eyes, dragging his baby blues down your body and back up. You could feel your cheeks get hot as he let out a low whistle. “God damn, baby, you look like that and we may never make it to that party.” He came closer and wrapped his arm around your side, his hand fanning across your lower back and with a small pull, your body was flush to his. He leaned down to press his lips to your jaw, murmuring compliments as he spread the kisses down your neck and behind your ear. “You’re so beautiful.” Kiss. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” Kiss. “So smart and kind.” Kiss. “I am the luckiest man in Hawkins.” Kiss. “I love you so much.” After this last profession, Billy pressed a soft and meaningful kiss to your lips, lingering there as his hands came to rest on your hips, giving them a squeeze.

You tilted your head to the side into the kiss, slipping your fingers in his hair and scratching a bit at his scalp before pulling away and grabbing your purse. “I’m ready to go. Let’s get this over with.” You grabbed his hand and led him out of your room.

He followed with a lovesick look on his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

Gifts

“Bill, shift your legs a little, mine are falling asleep.” You and your boyfriend were currently watching Red Dawn, your head resting on one side of the couch as Billy’s was resting on the other, legs intertwined and a thin blanket over the both of you. Sadly for you, it wasn’t quite enough to keep goosebumps from rising on your skin. Although the day had been fairly warm and you felt good in a sundress as Billy showered you in compliments all day, you were now verging on cold. Alone in the Hargrove’s house for the evening, the cool air coming in the open window was making you shiver.

Finally too distracted by the chill, you rose from the couch and shut the window, returning to curl up against Billy. You lifted the blanket, wiggled between his legs, and rested your back against his chest with the blanket up to your chin. He shifted a little and wrapped his arms around you, putting your hands in his. “Jeez, babe, your hands are freezing.” He pulled them up to his mouth, blowing warm air into your curled fingers, rubbing his palms together in an effort to bring them back to normal. You moved your feet a bit and accidentally pressed your cold toes to his bare leg. “Your feet are like ice cubes! Why didn’t you tell me you were so cold? Scoot forward, I’ll be right back.” You did as you were told and he swung his leg over your head, retreating to his room for a minute before coming back, a mess of fabric in his hands. “Here, put these on.”

You took the lump to the bathroom and laid it out, finally determining what he had given you. A cozy pair of his sweatpants, a long-sleeved henley shirt, and a pair of thick socks. Humming, you slipped your clothes off and changed into his, surrounded by the smell of cologne and a hint of smoke. You grabbed your things, dumped them next to your purse in the living room, and crawled back under the blanket with Billy.

“Feeling better?” He rubbed his hands down your arms.

“Much. Thank you.” You turned your head, pressing a kiss to his lips before settling to watch the rest of the movie.

A while later when the movie was finished and it was time for Billy to drive you home, you explained you would return his clothes the following day. “Keep them. They look better on you anyway. My gift to you, so you don’t freeze your ass off anymore.” You giggled and grabbed your things, admiring how loving Billy was to you.

Acts of Service

It was a bit of a tradition that had developed where Billy would climb up the trellis to the roof outside your bedroom window, tapping lightly so you would let him in. You loved when he did this and never asked why. He loved that about you - you didn’t need a reason or an explanation, you were there with a smile and a kiss, ready to snuggle and whisper until the morning.

This particular night was a bit different than usual. When he began the climb to your room, he could see the window was already open, likely because it was a cool night and the breeze felt nice on your skin. Smiling as he thought about seeing you, he peeked in the window and saw something that warmed his heart. The light next to your bed was on and illuminated the pile of books and clothes around your room as you slept in the middle of your bed, a notebook still open on your lap.

Billy let out a breathy chuckle as he quietly climbed in, careful not to wake you. He shrugged off his jacket and slipped off his shoes, placing them by the window. Who knew a girl who so lovingly helped Billy clean his room when Neil rode his ass about it would be able to make such a mess herself. He knew from your recent conversations that school was kicking your ass at the moment and it seemed cleaning was taking a backseat for the time being. He looked at the soft rise and fall of your chest, your tangled hair, and the pout of your mouth for a minute before getting to work. He gathered empty water bottles and crumpled up pieces of paper, throwing them in the small garbage can under your nightstand. He collected the school books that lay in a halo around you, gently lifting your hand to grab the notebook and pen you had been writing with before nodding off. Placing those on the top of your dresser in a neat pile, he went into the hall to grab a laundry basket.

After Billy had picked up the discarded clothes on your bed and floor, as well as those in your hamper, he tiptoed to the basement to throw the load in for you. Carefully avoiding the creaky spots on the staircase, he returned to your room, pleased with himself that it once again resembled the way you liked it. He pulled the socks from your feet, knowing you hated sleeping in them. As he did so, it dawned on him that they were his socks. In fact, you were also wearing the pair of sweatpants and the henley shirt he had given you the night you were cold while you watched a movie together. That memory brought a smile to his lips. Finally, he grabbed the rolled edges of your sheets and comforter from the foot of the bed, lifting them over your legs and up to your chest. This caused you to shift, taking a deep breath before rolling over, giving him enough room to slide in next to you. He did just that, humming a bit as he wrapped you in his arms, drifting quickly to sleep to the sound of your soft breaths and the warmth of your bed.

Quality Time

“Really, Billy, I don’t mind. I’ll just stay home and see you later.” You were currently on the phone with your boyfriend, trying to convince him to go to the party alone that you were going to go to together. It had been your plan all week to go to this party together and you even had an outfit laid out for the occasion. Unfortunately, you had woken up with a sore throat and a completely stuffed nose. After a few hours of blowing your nose, taking Vitamin C, and praying this would go away, you were resigned to call Billy and tell him he’d have to go without you.

“I am not going unless you’re there and I can tell from your voice that you’re really sick. Lay down and get cozy, I’ll be over in a little.” You sighed, disappointed that you were altering the plans for the evening.

“I’ll be fine. I feel bad that-” Before finishing that you felt bad for throwing a wrench in the evening, you were interrupted.

“I am not going to that stupid party, baby. I couldn’t care less. Trust me. Now get under the covers. I’m coming over. Is the door unlocked?” You answered in the affirmative and with one more order to get under covers, he hung up. You shuffled your feet across the carpet, burrowing under the large throw blanket, tissue box close by.

For a while, there was silence (apart from the sneezing and the pounding in your head from an annoying little headache that had formed since your call with Billy). You were somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, praying that this would end and missing the time you could breathe out of your nose. As you lay staring at the ceiling, you heard a familiar rumble in the distance get closer until it finally stopped in front of your house.

A few steps up to the front door and the creak as it opened and shut brought your boyfriend into view. “Shit, baby,” and with that, he kneeled next to the couch, running his fingers through your hair, wincing a bit as they ran over your forehead. He put his cheek there to confirm before saying, “I think you have a bit of a fever, too. You got it rough. But don’t worry, I brought all the things to make you feel better and I won’t leave your side until you’re good again.” He reached behind him, dragging a plastic bag full of medicine, chocolate, more tissues, and even a couple movies. You knew you were in for a troubling evening as you fought against the fever, headache, and sore throat. But with Billy by your side, it would all be okay.

By the next morning, after a night of movies, talking, snuggling, and even Billy spoon-feeding you soup, you felt almost your old self again. You were so grateful for your wonderful and caring boyfriend who showed his love all different ways. You made sure to tell him a million times, though he already knew.

masterlist

#billy hargrove x reader #reader x billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove/reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things/reader #billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfics #billy hargrove fanfiction

[stratiotis-nth]

He had it all—finally. Dean glanced over at Cas, who was sitting on the rocking chair next to him on their wrap around porch. They’d spent months patching up Bobby’s place together, and were finally able to enjoy their hard work. Dean took a long draw of coffee—the bitter taste never got old.

“Jack and I are going to plant carrots today, I think.” Cas mused in the comfortable silence. The sun was starting to rise, bathing the sky in pale colors. They made Cas glow with ethereal light—even though he was no longer angelic.

“Sounds nice.” Dean agreed, adjusting and readjusting the blanket around Cas’ shoulders just so he had something to do with his hands. Cas, ever indulgent, let him without drawing attention to it. “We can make that carrot cake you like.”

“No walnuts this time.” Cas reminded him.

“Of course.”

“You’ll survive not eating pie instead?” The ex-angel shot him an amused look. Dean managed a look of mock offense.

“I can control my cravings, y’know.” He defended lightly.

“Hm.” Came a skeptical reply.

“What? I managed to control my craving for you for twelve years.” Dean grinned, nudging Cas’ shoulder with his elbow.

“That was less control and more ignorance.” Cas pointed out. But his soft smile told Dean that he was amused rather than argumentative. They had their fights, sure, but this? This was just happy, old-married-couple-like bickering. Dean refused to think of himself as old yet.

“How’s Sam?” Cas asked, stealing Dean’s coffee to take a sip. Dean let him. He’s steal Cas’ bumblebee slippers later in retaliation.

“Good.” He replied, thinking back to the video call he had been on yesterday with his brother and Eileen. “They’re all moved in and settling fine. Sam says they’ll probably come over for dinner on Saturday.”

“That works out well. We’ll have gotten fresh food from the farmer’s market.” Cas nodded, his clear blue gaze fixed on the pale pink clouds mixing with tangerine skies and lavender shadows. A blood orange sun began peeking over the tree line. It was undoubtedly gorgeous, but Dean got a little caught up staring at Cas to appreciate it like he did.

“I’m glad I have you, man.” He said quietly. Cas turned to him with a soft smile. He didn’t often say things like that. Cas had always been better with words, whereas Dean spoke through breakfast in the mornings, letting Cas steal his coffee, and repeatedly adjusting his blanket so he wouldn’t be cold. Things like that. So Cas always seemed so pleasantly surprised when affectionate things slipped from Dean’s mouth.

“I’m glad I have you too, Dean.” He replied, catching Dean’s hand as he made to adjust the blanket and lacing their fingers together, pressing his scarred knuckles to his lips. Dean flushed as he felt Cas’ mouth against his skin, hot air from his nose warming his knuckles. He decided right then and there that he didn’t want to leave. He never wanted to wake up.

“Is Jack awake?” He asked as Cas settled their entwined hands on his arm rest.

“I think he always is now.” Cas said. “He’s only managed to sleep for an hour or two anymore.”

Dean nodded. The kid taking on God’s powers had changed so little about him and yet so much at the same time. Jack didn’t sleep, he didn’t have to eat but seemed to like to. He was in tune with nature in a scarily intimate way—Dean had once caught him talking to a swarm of bees. A full on conversation too, where the bees actually spoke back. Plants thrived around him and even the raccoons that had waged war against Dean and the garbage bins were tame and friendly around the kid. (He suspected Jack had also had a word with the raccoons, because Dean stopped finding his trash bins tipped over and rummaged through in the mornings.) But the kid still liked Lego’s and dinosaur models and eating sugary cereals with chocolate milk (Dean taught him that). He was still innocent, three year old Jack who could be convinced grape juice in a wine glass was actually wine. He was still their kid, just…different.

Dean sighed, letting his head fall on the back of his chair and rubbing his thumb absentmindedly against the back of Cas’ hand.

“I never want to leave this.” He murmured.

“So don’t.” Cas replied evenly.

“I won’t.”

The sun rose to begin a new day, and Dean felt himself smile. His life of blood and sacrifice was over. He had Cas, he didn’t have to hide who he was or how he felt. He had everything he had ever wished for.

So Dean didn’t fight the spell. He ignored the odd moments were something seemed out of place, the tingle on the back of his neck from his years of hunting that told him something was wrong. He didn’t want to leave. He had suffered enough.

Dean Winchester hung by his wrists in an abandoned warehouse, an IV slowly draining him dry. He didn’t see the point of trying to come back to this world—this world without Cas. Maybe Sam would find him, or maybe the jinn had hidden him too well. Whatever. Dean didn’t care. In his head, he had Cas. He had love and freedom and a quiet life with the angel he had loved since the day they met.

He would be dead in a few days, but in his head? It would feel like years.

#im sorry #i was watching the jinn episode from season two and couldn’t help myself #i was gonna leave it all happy and fluffy but im a masochist so #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fandom #castiel #deans smitten with cas immediately #dean winchester #casdean #cas #deancas #dean is bi #dean #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn #spn fic

[cellydawn]

sans IS gaster (OR the sans theory masterpost pt. 2)

Part 1 || ❤️ || Part 3

(drawn by me, color by @magenteel​)

Previously, we discussed: Sans and his hand in the destruction of a world, his connection to Ice-E and Deltarune, and how he relates to Gaster. We’re going to continue the thread we left off on.

Section III - Gaster (Cont.)

Snails are mentioned too many times throughout Undertale for them to not be of any significance. As it turns out, they are pretty important in unraveling the mystery behind Gaster and Sans.

When you enter the area with Napstablook’s snail farm, you’ll notice that Sans’s theme is playing despite him not making an appearance. 

In one of Papyrus’s phone calls, he mentions that Sans recently bought snail-shaped pasta and says “He’ll probably fill them with hotdogs and slime.” Toriel also owns a book called “72 User for Snails”. Track 72 in the Undertale OST is “Song That Might Play When You Fight Sans”. That’s multiple times that Sans is likened to snails. 

Snails belong under the taxonomic class Gastropoda. Gasterpods.

These long pauses between words and phrases are not unlike how Gaster speaks.

Here is Gaster speaking with us in the opening sequence of Deltarune. And...

Now. Let’s move on.

(More under the cut.)

Mus_smile is the track that plays in room_gaster. This is my personal opinion, but the character that is the most strongly associated with smiles is Sans.

And Sans is certainly intelligent enough to be the prime suspect for being Gaster. The proper name for his namesake is Comic Sans Microsoft, or Comic Sans MS. MS can also be used as a suffix for the name of a person who has a degree in a Master of Science.

Sans also owns quantum physics books. The subject of Gaster’s scientific research is revealed in Entry #17: “photon readings negative”. Photons are described as a "quantum" of electromagnetic energy, and are of course within the realm of study under quantum physics.

Gaster, like Sans, is brilliant yet slow-working. Slower than Alphys, who is repeatedly noted to have nothing to show yet as the royal scientist in the eyes of the people and is shown to slack off constantly.

Gaster is implied to have perished, and I suppose he did, in a way, if these speculations do end up being correct. However, there’s something more to this statement. Ghosts are sort of in the realm of being not-alive, and Sans and Napstablook have a surprising level of comparability.

They both:

Get likened to “garbage”

Have connections to snails (Napstablook runs the snail farm)

Speak completely in lower case

Pretend to sleep and say “Z’s” out loud

Have black “sclera”

And the black sclera is also a topic of its own; it’s equated with the status of being brought back to life. Being “determined”. (See: Asriel and Undyne)

Undyne is especially suspect due to the strange right-eye-phenomenon she has in common with Sans, with spears shooting out of hers. Spears that are actually colored light blue, not unlike Sans’s eye. 

To recap: 

Sans and Gaster are heavily involved in Deltarune

They have been displaced from time and space

They have connections to snails

They are both doctors with knowledge in quantum physics

They both “fell” into the abyss

They both talk similarly

They are both slow

They are both characterized by their smile

They are both some degree of dead

Sans is Gaster or a significant piece of him. Sans has Gaster Blasters because they belong to him. If all prior conjecture proves true, he is and will be responsible for the destruction of a world or THE world within Deltarune. After all, the Latin definitions of “gaster” and “sans” are to destroy and to be without, respectively. 

That brings us to the next subject: why is Sans Sans? More specifically, why is that his name? Why even change his name?

Below is the Japanese version of the fun event with Sans’s phone call. It features completely different dialogue from its English counterpart. 

Am I Licca-chan? (Select No) Then from now on call me Sans. I need to check every once in a while. I won’t know when my name has changed. 

“Licca-chan” is a well-known Barbie-esque dress-up doll in Japan, so popular to the point where it is even used as a synonym for other dolls from different companies. Perhaps it implies that Sans is adaptable due to Licca-chan’s nature as a doll and how she is in a constant state of change to reflect the times. It also seems to be a pun on “liquor” because Sans was talking about beer in the English version. I tried to scour the Japanese fandom for clues, but they also seemed stumped. If anyone has any ideas on what this could mean, please let me know!

Regardless, “Sans” doesn’t seem to be his actual name. Perhaps his true name was Gaster...?

Additionally, If the player changes the name of the fallen child via going into the code, this message appears in the stats menu. The vernacular is very Sans-like, with his frequent use of question tags at the end of his sentences (I counted 14 huh’s from Sans).

Finally, let’s talk about the number six. We know that it’s Gaster’s number--All of the explicitly Gaster-related fun events trigger for fun values in the sixties, Gaster’s stats are all comprised of 6′s, Gaster’s “typer-value” is 666--you get the idea.

The concept art Toby drew for the Alarm Clock’s character screen features what is presumably Sans and the number six.

“The Choice”--the track that plays during Sans’s judgements--is “Undertale” slowed down by 666%.

Section IV - Angels and Demons (The “Why”)

In modern day culture, 666 is closely associated with the devil. The Book of Revelation (13:17-18) asserts that 666 is “the number of a man” (this is important, and we’ll come back to it later) and is “the number of the Beast”. The Beast is mentioned as “coming out of the abyss”. 

Sounds a lot like someone else we know, doesn’t it? And how fitting for Sans, the one who judges our sins and demands us “to burn in hell”.

But if we go further, the Beast of Revelation is described to have seven heads representing seven kings. The beast itself is an eighth king who is of the seven and "was and is not and shall ascend out of the bottomless pit, and go into perdition." 

Chara is an eighth of the seven fallen children. 

There’s something Chara, Sans, and Gaster all share, and it’s their association with demons.

Here is an excerpt from the Cutting Room Floor:

Among the four strings in version 1.0, the last one, designated by variable “demond”, stands out for two reasons. 

 The letter “d” is separate from the other letters denoting the demon variables--the rest, “x”, “y”, and “z” are in sequential alphabet order.

The speech pattern of the last string is different from the others. It has that signature question tag at the end of the sentence that a certain character is known for.

In version 1.001, the strings clearly reflect Chara’s speech pattern. This time, all the variables are in sequential order from “a” to “d”. 

Pieces of dialogue at the near-end of a genocide route from Chara and Sans. Recall that Chara is using the same “Now” from earlier with Gaster and Sans.

Chara makes a reference to Banana Yoshimoto's book “Kitchen”. Take note of the page number.

Chara is also linked to the number nine. It’s the highest achievable stat in-game. It’s the stat of the locket and real knife. It’s how much damage Chara deals. It’s also the number six flipped upside down. 

The connections are undeniable. 

And yet, it goes further. Let’s take a look at how Christmas comes in to play.

In Deltarune, there are a few references to it, the most foremost probably being the importance of Noelle Holiday as a character. We also get Lancer’s laugh and the joke with “Krismas”.

Back to Undertale, there is significant Christmas iconography represented by “Gyfmas” and Gyftrot (bearing a strong resemblance to Photoshop Flowey, the DT Extractor, and Gaster Blasters).

What I’d like to focus on is Santa.  Papyrus describes him as “a chubby, smiling man who loves to surprise people.” From the thank you note addressed to Santa we find in Sans’s room, we can assume that Sans is a Santa, at least to Papyrus. It’s pretty fitting, since Sans can be described as someone who “knows if [we’ve] been bad or good”. Maybe he can even tell if we’re sleeping or awake with how the Dark World appears to be linked with sleep and dreams (please read my theory on Sans being a Darkner for more on this).

So we can reasonably conclude that Sans presents himself as a friendly, child-oriented figure, in-line with the nature of Comic Sans, a font for children, and Ice-E, a mascot of a company marketed towards children.

…

Santa is an anagram of Satan. 

…

To recap: Gaster’s association with the number 666 marks him as a “demon”. Chara and Sans are also called demons and similarly have connections to the number 6. This is more evidence that Gaster and Sans is or used to be the same people, and Chara has some form of correspondence with them.

I failed to mention before that there is actually a second Beast of Revelation “from the Earth” with "two horns like a lamb”. From the “earth” like Flowey, with horns like Asriel. 

Asriel is most likely the “Angel” depicted in the prophecy within the scope of Undertale; he’s named similarly to Azrael, an angel of death, and one of his attacks is literally called “Angel of Death”. He also bears a striking resemblance to the Deltarune in his God of Hyperdeath form.

Surprise, surprise, he and Sans also share parallels. 

Let’s start with their introductions. “Flowey the flower”. “Sans the skeleton”. It’s a similarly alliterative greeting and they’re both using fake names.

Mirrored dialogue yet again...

…and similar meta-commentary.

These three characters--Sans/Gaster, Chara, and Flowey/Asriel--they have all fallen. Gaster fell into his creation. Chara fell into the Underground. Asriel had “fallen down”. (Sans and Papyrus are also the only sibling pair other than Chara and Asriel. I won’t talk about Papyrus in this part though because this thing is shaping up to be too long already.)

What does this mean for Sans? I have a personal theory.

Above the entryway of the Judgement Hall, there is a reversed Deltarune. The triangles are inverted and the wings are more bat-like. In the room where only Sans appears, the same room that plays a version of “Undertale” slowed down 666%.

I think Sans is a candidate for the Angel prophesized to destroy the world in Deltarune. I think he is Sans Serif, a seraph. He fell into his experiment and became a “fallen” angel, a demon. 

The Angel’s Heaven mentioned alongside, on the other hand...  Heaven can also be used to refer to God. Dog is an anagram of God. 

Sans has many, many connections with dogs, especially one Annoying Dog. More on this next time.

Part 1 || ❤️ || Part 3

#undertale #deltarune #undertale theory #deltarune theory #sans #gaster #cellytheory

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part IV (End): Courage, My Love

Description: The final chapter.  The Big Bang 😉  Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: physically aggressive behaviour, ex-boyfriends, angst, size kink, profanity, vaginal fingering and intercourse Word Count: 4237 words (~21 mins of thrills, real talk, fluff and smut) Author’s Notes: To all the lovelies who have been patiently following this story: you’ve made it! 🥳  Welcome to the final chapter in this Shaw saga, where we aim to go out with a massive bang (pun intended 😆).  Once again, thank you all for every like, reblog, and comment I’ve received on this story.  You are all amazing, and I appreciate your support! 💕

As always, tagging the lovely @op-peccatori​ — I hope you enjoyed this story!  I certainly had lots of fun writing this!  Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, dear readers, and happy reading! 

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

The quiet is back.

But there is no peace, no relief in the monotony that follows after the man known as Shaw burst into your life like a bolt from the blue, stirring up long forgotten feelings like dead leaves animated by a carefree wind — here one minute, gone the next.

And with each passing day, hope erodes.

Little by little, your heart learns not to race as the clock above the magazine rack approaches 1:30.

It becomes harder to remember the sound purple sneakers made walking through the store.

You stop hoping, wishing, to see a head of lavender hair; that the next person to approach the register would place a cup of Pepsi mixed with Coke on the counter, amber-eyed gaze speaking volumes without uttering a single word.

Days become weeks, and then eventually…

…you stop counting them altogether.

* * *

“You’re looking good.  I see you’re doing well for yourself.”

He reaches for the jade pendant hanging around your neck, eyes flashing with amusement when you hit his hand away with an audible smack.

“What the hell do you want?  Haven’t you already done enough?” You say through grit teeth, steps quickening as you head for the better lit part of the street, trying to outpace the man and silently cursing the fact that returning to the convenience store was no longer an option at this point.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that.  It took a lot of effort to track you down and I waited a very long time for you to get off work.  It’s cold, dark and lonely out here.  Is that any way to treat your boyfriend?  Or friend, at least?”

“ ‘Ex-boyfriend,’ asshole, and you’re no friend of mine, especially not after the way you took my life’s savings and ran.”

“Baby, it wasn’t like that—”

“Oh yeah?!  Did you try telling that to the loan sharks too before they came and trashed my place?  I had to move, Leto, because it wasn’t safe for me anymore, not with the way they kept harassing me and the neighbours asking about your whereabouts.  They even came to my office.  I lost my fucking job.  So don’t come around here and tell me that I’m doing well for myself.”

Breaking into a sprint, your mind races as you try to think of a way to lose your ex, anger and anxiety prickling every nerve in equal measure.  He had ruined your life, singlehandedly taken away everything you had.  And though you had known him once, desperation has a way of making monsters out of men.

And right now, for all you knew, he was desperate and dangerous.

“Please, I just want to talk.  I don’t need much this time, just a little bit to get me through this rough patch.  I’ll pay you back, I swear, just…just STOP FOR A MOMENT!—”

You shriek to feel Leto wrap his hand about your wrist, but before he could tighten his grip, another arm is thrown around your shoulder, pulling you back until you’re pressed up against a hard, muscular chest, staring at a close up of Snoopy riding a skateboard.

“You got business with my girl?”

That voice.  Dangerous and cocksure, yet comforting like nothing else as the muffled words reverberate through the tiny bones of your ear, a prelude to the soothing ba-bump of his heart, rhythm steady and concrete as the ground upon which you stood.

Shaw.

He’s really here.

“Hehe.  Your girl?”  The derision in Leto’s voice makes you sick to your stomach; you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he looks Shaw up and down, zeroing in on his old t-shirt.  “Tsk, tsk.  So, not only do you enjoy wearing second hand clothing, you also have the habit of picking up sloppy seconds?”

BOOM!

Deafening thunder rolls moments after a bolt of lightning rends the night sky in two, throwing a jagged spotlight on the fury written on Shaw’s face when he moves just as fast to grab a fistful of Leto’s collar.  The muscles of his forearm bulge as he holds up the entirety of Leto’s bodyweight in one hand, the sky opening in a sudden downpour as your ex struggles in midair, rain dripping almost comically from dangling feet.

And when Shaw brings Leto’s terrified face up close, the ferocity in those amber eyes sends a chill up your spine.

“This is the last time you’ll ever talk to her, see her, even think about her.  Or else I’ll find you and take my sweet time making you wish you were never born, do you understand me?”

Head bobbing in vigorous nods, drops of water fly off the tips of Leto’s rain-slicked hair.  Seemingly satisfied, Shaw tosses him onto the ground at your feet, voice low yet audible as it cuts through the din of the storm when he says, “Beg for her forgiveness.”

The fear in his expression almost palpable, Leto looks between you and Shaw — cowardice etched onto features you had once found so pleasing a lifetime ago.  He prostrates himself onto the wet pavement, voice cracking in between sobs as he yells over the sound of the rain:

“P-please…please forgive me!  I’m a piece of shit!  I’m nothing, I’m garbage!  I…I deserve to go to Hell for what I did to you!  I-I’m so sorry!  Please forgive me!”

Leto reaches out a shaky hand towards your soaked shoes before he remembers Shaw’s warning, but it is too late.  Black combat boots hit the concrete hard within an inch of Leto’s face as Shaw stoops, yanking back a fistful of hair and pulling until your ex is looking up at you like a pitiful supplicant begging for mercy.

“Satisfied?”  Shaw looks to you as if he were asking about something as mundane as the weather.  You nod, suddenly too tired to even speak.  You wanted to wash your hands of Leto, wanted nothing to do with all that had happened since you finished your shift at the convenience store.  All you could do was watch as Leto scrambled away on all fours the moment Shaw loosened his hold, running until he was nothing more than a speck of darkness merging with the night.

The rain is cold, wetness driving against your body to leech even the final bits of warmth from bone.  Your clothes are drenched, heavy as they cling uncomfortably to skin.  But you are too drained to care, lacking the energy to even notice when the dim light of the streetlamp above is blotted out — Shaw holding his leather jacket over your head in the place of an umbrella.

All you are aware of before your vision goes dark is the anxiety in his voice when he calls your name over and over again, how weightless it felt to be carried in the cradle of his arms.  

How much you missed the scent you thought you had learned to forget.

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

“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

You opened your eyes to gaze into irises of warm amber, the situation similar to one you experienced before except for the fact that this time, you were the one lying in bed, staring at a man who sat on its edge, brows knit with concern beneath soft lavender strands.

“If you slept for any longer, I would’ve had to knock on your neighbour’s door.” Shaw chuckles but the sound is hollow, mirthlessness obvious like the blanched knuckles of his tightly clenched fists.

“What…how did we…” You begin, voice raspy as it dies, a sudden sharp pain in your throat making you wince.

And immediately, Shaw is on his feet, rummaging through cupboards in your kitchen until he finds a glass.  You watch him run the tap, fill it to the brim.  Feel the strength of his arm around your back as he holds you up, touch lingering even as you down the water in gulps to chase the discomfort away.

“You passed out not long after your douchebag of an ex ran off with his tail between his legs.  I found your keys in your purse, so I let myself into your apartment — hope you don’t mind.  Although, to be fair, I was also carrying you at the time, so it’s not really breaking and entering.”

Head feeling like it would explode as the events of the evening come rushing back, you turn towards him…slowly…slowly, afraid Shaw might disappear before your eyes should any movement prove too sudden.

Thank him.  Now.  Before he goes away again.

He is close, so close that you can count those long, beautiful lashes; almost feel the minuscule shifts in the air between you every time he blinks — those pupils encroaching onto gold as they expand and pulling you into their depths as they do.

“Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t flinch at your question, and you can’t bring yourself to be shocked by the discrepancy between what you meant to say and the words actually spilling from your lips.  And as the grey memory of days spent counting the hours of his absence settles like lead in the pit of your stomach, the only thing you knew was that your heart couldn’t survive latching onto this sliver of hope only to have it ripped away again.

All you wanted…was the truth.

“Because I can’t stand to see you sad anymore.”

There is no smirk to stretch across that handsome face, only pain that hurts your heart to see it.  Resignation heavy in his voice, Shaw takes a deep breath before he continues.

“Turns out I’m weak when it comes to you.  Selfish.  I know I’m no good for you; there’s no future with me.  I can’t give you anything, can’t even promise you tomorrow, but…I just can’t stop thinking about you.  Wondering how you are.  Whether you’re eating well, sleeping well.  If you’re safe…happy.

“Tonight wasn’t supposed to happen.  I just wanted to make sure you got home okay, that some asshole wasn’t going to hassle you at work.  But then your ex showed up and when he tried to get fresh with you, well…I couldn’t let that slide.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong with me but…I’m sorry, if I ever made you sad, if I scared you.  I’m sorry for everything.”

His gaze drops to the rip in his jeans, the drip, drip of the leaky faucet the only sound in the ensuing silence of his confession.  That is, until you say,

“I’m sorry too…that you’re such an idiot.”

His head whips up, brows furrowed and mouth slack as if caught in a rare moment of speechlessness.  The shock makes him seem years younger, lending him an air of innocence that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions.  I’m not so naïve that I don’t know what I would be getting into by being with you.  You say you can’t promise me tomorrow, but tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.  All we can ask for — hope for — is the here and now.  

“Love takes courage, as does life.  But a life without love…it’s not much of a life, is it?  So I’m willing to be brave if that’s what it’ll take for us to be together.”

As quickly as they came, the words are gone, leaving you cotton-mouthed and faint as your heart pounds to send the blood rushing to your ears.  That could’ve been the only explanation as to why Shaw’s “I knew there was a reason why I loved you” sounded so muffled you had to ask him to repeat himself.

“Too bad, I only say things once.”

And there it is again: the spark in his eyes, smirk on those lips — igniting the fire you only allowed yourself to feel in dreams of his body on yours, skin to skin like kindling to flame.

“Are you that single-minded about everything?”  You ask, the smile on your face mirroring his as it approaches closer…

“Only when it comes to not letting go of the one I care about.”

…closer…

“Tell me one thing.”  Your voice is barely above a whisper.

…and closer still.

Lips now a hair’s breadth apart, the gentle rhythm of his exhalation blows soft upon your cupid’s bow; a shy request.  Your vision is filled with him, wonderfully awash with colour — lavender, amber, the soft pink of his mouth — and you wished you were the very clothes upon his body; saturated in his intensity, dyed in his hues.

His eyes fixate on your tongue when you wet your lips before asking, “That night, when you were hurt so badly you passed out in my store…why did you still insist on coming in?”

Shaw’s breath catches, hitching in his throat.  You know because you can feel it, the way the warmth stops short on your skin.  And when he speaks, the eyes that hold yours tell you this is no lie.

“Because if it was going to be the last night of my life, I didn’t want to go without seeing your face one more time.”

Love is a funny thing.  Formless, senseless, yet the strongest thing that could bind two strangers.  You hadn’t known Shaw for long, could count the days you spent together on one hand.  And still, entirely without reason, he bled into each and every hour, crept into the darkest corners of your mind to fill your weary heart with a desperation that made it very clear that love was far from done with you.

That right or wrong, the only place you wanted to be was here — held in the arms that wrapped around your body: hot, tight, safe…

…Shaw.

His lips are softer than you ever imagined when he brings his face to yours, plush silk gliding corner to corner to cover your mouth in reverent kisses — one for each night he came into your store, watched over you from afar.  

Your stalwart protector.

You tasted it now, the remnants of cinnamon on his tongue from the gum he was so fond of chewing, intensified by the memory of all the times you wondered about its flavour: pink bubbles popping in his mouth as he coolly dealt with the robber, the night you emptied his pockets as your neighbour stitched him up on your bed.

Shaw tasted sweet.  Far sweeter than you ever imagined.

And when his tongue slides against yours — slow and sure as it explores your mouth with increasing fervour before drawing back just as you clenched around emptiness, yearning for more, the beast within you refuses to abide.

You like the shock that passes over his face when you move, sudden and forceful, to push him onto the mattress beneath you; the artless way Shaw sinks teeth into his bottom lip in response.  You like how he watches as you straddle his hips — gaze earnest and body honest, hardening as you grind undulating circles upon his groin.

But, perhaps most of all, you liked the spark of something wild in those amber eyes, an unpredictability warning that if you weren’t careful, you’d be the one to find yourself pinned to the bed.

Because wasn’t that ultimately the push-and-pull that characterized so much between you and him?  Maddening at times, but always, always binding you to Shaw like some red string of fate.

So you nod when he whispers “May I?”, unable to suppress a moan to finally feel his hands on you: tracing along your jaw, cradling your face…resting the pad of his finger on your lip before pushing past to stroke your tongue.

Every sound he makes pleases; the soft hiss preceding the bob of his Adam’s apple to feel your lips pucker around his finger to suck, pink tongue enticing as it swirls along the length of that digit, drawing it deeper into the hot wetness of your mouth.

You never saw yourself as seductive before, but Shaw made you feel sexy.  Perhaps the impulse stemmed from some primitive desire, an instinctive call to please the man you felt so profoundly for that shame was the farthest thing from your mind when you pulled his hand from your lips to guide it to your breast, only partially aware of how wet you were becoming from his gaze alone — half-lidded and heavy with lust.

The heat of his touch permeates your blouse, white and transparent still in patches from the rain.  You watch his hands as they play: cupping your breasts in a gentle squeeze, thumbs and forefingers catching your nipples to pinch and roll until they stood stiff against the drape of your clothing, the flush of your flesh bold through fabric.

“You’re so beautiful that there are times I think you can’t possibly be real.”

His voice is low, husky.  You let it wash over you, almost frightened by how stupidly happy you become, willing the magic to linger even as his words dissipate amongst the sounds of the night: neon buzzing and the faraway screams of sirens in the distance.

A world apart.

Your hands find the broad expanse of his chest, tracing along muscle before circling the nipples that stood erect against his damp t-shirt.  Each twitch is endearing, every erratic breath he draws to feel your touch making you fall harder.  And when he tries to focus on unbuttoning your blouse while fighting the impulse to tear it clean off your body, the stirring between your legs grows in intensity until he finally pulls the silken panels aside, a quiet gasp escaping his lips to see his necklace nestled between your breasts.

“It really does belong on you.”  

The admiration in his tone is laced with a hint of possessiveness that makes you throb.  Shaw pushes himself to sitting, gathering you onto his lap in one smooth motion as he buries his face in your chest, inhaling deep.  You gasp to feel gentle teeth sink into the flesh of your breasts, Shaw following the chain of precious metal with his lips until it leads to the pendant.  And when his tongue slips out to draw the piece of jade into his mouth, he brings your nipple along with it.

“Oh!…”

The sensation is unlike any you’ve known before, the soft wetness of his pliant tongue a searing contrast with the cool, smooth stone rubbing against the sensitive tip of your breast in equal measure.  You feel his smile on your skin when you fist your hands into lavender hair, spine curving as your legs begin to tremble.

And he had yet to touch you below the waist.

“Your body responds so well to me.  I knew you were a good girl.”  He looks up at you, teasing shamelessly even as he continues to lavish attention on your breasts.

“Just your girl, if you’ll have me,” you say without second thought, long past the point of caring to keep your cards close to your chest.

Something breaks in that expression, the final walls crumbling like dust when Shaw blinks once…twice, revealing eyes that shine with emotion when he replies, “For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

* * *

“Hmm!—”

Your moan is muffled, swallowed by Shaw’s greedy lips like he does with every sound of ecstasy that leaks like you do around his cock, buried impossibly deep in your body as it rocks back and forth, back and forth on his muscular thighs…

…doing your best to adjust to his ample size.

He had barely suppressed a chuckle when you first slipped your hand into his jeans, a subtle mix of pride and amusement on his face to see your eyes widen when you couldn’t quite wrap palm and fingers around the entirety of his girth.

And foreplay had only just begun.

“Still doing okay?” Shaw asks, touch tender as he brushes loose strands of hair from your eyes, lips smoothing along the apple of your cheek to feel its pink heat.  “We can go as slow as you want, there’s no rush.  If it’s too much, we can stop—”

“No!  No…I’m okay.  More than okay, I’m great.  Please…please don’t stop…don’t stop…”

Struggling to string words together, your breath comes in disjointed pants as Shaw begin to thrust up — the look on his face effortlessly sensual when he bites his lip to feel you spasm around him, tight wetness yielding in increments to accommodate his body as it broke new ground.

For you had never taken a man of that size, the litheness of Shaw’s muscular body belying the impressive package he’d been hiding in those jeans.  Your jaw ached just to look upon the length of that thick cock, mouth watering as a fresh wave of arousal made you press your thighs tighter together.  The movement didn’t go unnoticed.  Shaw had drawn you to him then — deft fingers dipping low to trace the outline of your swollen folds through moist panties, lavender head bending to kiss its lacy trim.

He took his time preparing you, licking his fingers before he eased them into your pussy — first one, then two…curling deep until the slippery sounds of arousal told him the time was ripe to introduce the third, leaving you blooming for him even as he whispered, “Think you’re ready for me to make you my girl for real?”

It borders on overwhelming, this sensation of fullness — between your legs, within your heart.  And as skin stretched to capacity to accommodate the sweet friction of his slide, you wished there was a way for the euphoria of this connection to last forever:

To the one you could never forget, no matter how hard you tried.

To this man you loved like no other.

“Shaw.”

His name is faint on your breath when he falls back onto the bed, taking you with him.  And as you found yourself straddling his hips once more, the altered angles of your bodies gave him the leverage to make you gasp when he begins to thrust in earnest.  The eroticism of his face, lost in lust, drives all thoughts from your mind as you drop a hand to your clit, fingers drawing tight circles before his hungry eyes.

The violence of your climax takes you by surprise, having no time to consider neighbours and thin walls as the lewdest sounds escape your lips at high volume.  Intense convulsions wracking your body in waves, you clench in time around your lover.  The sensation proves too much to bear, drawing out Shaw’s own release as he pulls out to spill onto the folds of your pussy — swollen and pink and trembling still beneath the coat of his pearlescent seed.

* * *

“I love you.”  

Morning light trickles across your walls like the slow crawl of spidery legs.  Shaw’s words hang in the air between you, a final, sacred moment shared between lovers before the rest of the world wakes.

You loved the hoarseness in his voice; a testament to the hours of noisy lovemaking you had shared in lieu of sleep.

You loved the weight of his hand, stroking softly at the crown of your head.

You loved the rhythm of his heart, echoing just below your ear to confirm his existence.

“I love you too.”

You look up into those amber eyes, trying to discern whether those four little words were sufficient in conveying that fact that you adored every fibre of the man before you.

The smile that graces his face in return is tender, honest…more brilliant than the day breaking in the East.

Your hands find his body, bare beneath the sheets.  And as a curious finger traces along the ridge of the scar that runs in a broad stroke across his sculpted abdomen, your gaze falls on his t-shirt, draped over the back of a chair.

“You should probably throw that Snoopy shirt away, especially after what happened last night.”

Shaw follows your line of sight, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh.  “Shitty as its previous owner was, I could never bring myself to hate something that reminds me of you.  Aside from saving my ass, this was the first gift you ever gave me.  And I never throw away gifts from my girl.”

His girl.

The mystery of life is that filled with unknowns though it is, we continue to live, brave in the face of the uncertainty that comes with every passing day.  You had no idea what fate had in store for you or Shaw, had no way of knowing if your relationship existed on borrowed time.  

The only thing you were certain of was that your feelings for each other were real, that try as you might, neither of you were very good at forgetting the other.  That in this moment, here and now, the only thing that mattered was this love that hit you…

…like a bolt from the blue.

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Thanks so much for reading!  I hope you all enjoyed this Shaw saga! 💖 

Check out more of my work here! 📚 (Please do not repost/copy/alter my work.  Reblogs, on the other hand, are perfectly fine and much appreciated! 💖👍🏼)

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mr love dream date #evol x love #mlqc shaw #mlqc ling xiao #mlqc smut #mlqc shaw smut #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fic #fanfiction #my writing #elex

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (4/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,057

Summary: Jamie  just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian  Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught  up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

IV:

—

“I owe you a favour?” Rebecca said, and her voice sounded amused. “Is that how we’re remembering it?”

“Yup. After that fiasco you put me through in that club on Nar Shaddaa.”

The sound of an incredulous huff of laughter came through the cracked speakers of the transceiver in a staticky burst. “What is it this time?”

“Nothing special,” said Jamie. “In fact, it’s even a little boring.”

“You? Boring?” 

“I like boring.”

“Pull the other one.”

“More boring than last time, then.” 

“Last time you had me move three hundred freed Twi’lek slaves from Hutt space and back to their home planets.”

“And they’ve been singing your praises ever since. I know that for a fact, because one family sent me a holo-card which showed that party you went to where they made you godmother of their newborn child.” 

“Oh! That reminds me,” Rebecca said, sounding suddenly excited. “Do you want to see the latest pictures of the kid? He’s four and adorable.” 

“That had better be a rhetorical question,” Jamie drawled.

“So, that’s a no?”

“Shut up and send me the pictures to my personal transceiver when I see you.” 

Rebecca’s laugh was infectious. Always had been. A smile pulled at the corner of Jamie’s mouth in spite of herself. The Jawas had crowded off to the other end of the tiny room, talking amongst themselves while Jamie used their transceiver. On the other hand Dani drifted closer, hovering just out of range of the transceiver’s camera, which — along with the microphone and speakers — seemed to be the only thing about it that actually functioned properly. 

“It’s been too long,” Rebecca was saying. “I’ve missed talking to you.”

“So, you’ll do me the favour?” 

“You know I hate moving people,” Rebecca sighed. “Pressurising the cargo hold is so expensive.”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“Always is with you.”

"It's not like that."

"Sure it isn't." Rebecca said, then groaned. "Why can't you ever ask me to run something normal? Like food? Or weapons?"

"I asked you to run those emergency rations to Taris that one time."

"The planet was being blockaded by the Empire!"

"And you snuck through like a ghost," Jamie said. "I've never seen anything like it in all my years."

"Flatterer."

"Fuckin' right I am. Is it working?"

A sigh down the other line. "All right. How many people is it this time?"

Jamie opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak Dani came into frame and sat beside Jamie with a wave towards the camera.

"Hi," she said with as much false cheer as she could muster. "Just me. Dani Clayton. Nice to meet you."

Silence on the other end. Jamie really wished this piece of crap transceiver had a working screen of its own so she could gauge Rebecca's reaction. As it was: the silence didn't seem like a good start.

“I see,” Rebecca said slowly. “Jamie, you always did have a soft spot for a pretty face.”

Heat flushed all the way up to Jamie’s hairline. “That’s not -!” she said, then turned to Dani and insisted, “It’s not.”

Dani did not answer. Her own cheeks were pink and she was studiously avoiding Jamie’s gaze, watching the broken monitor instead where Rebecca’s face should have been displayed. 

Rebecca — damn her — was the one who spoke next. "And where are you from, Dani?"

"Alderaan," Dani said at the same time Jamie hissed, "Don't answer that."

Dani shot Jamie a puzzled look and lowered her voice, “I thought you two were friends.”

“We are, but -” 

“No whispering,” said Rebecca through the crackling speakers in a sing-song voice. “If you’re talking about me, at least let me hear the juicy gossip.”

Rather than continue down that vein, Jamie corrected course. “We need to get to Tython. We’re on a transport through the Hydian Way to Coruscant, but we’ve got some undesirables on our tail. Think you can help?”

Rebecca gave a thoughtful hum. “You know I’m not a Core World girl. Not my speciality.” 

“I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t desperate.” 

“Next time,” Rebecca said in a dry tone, “just call me for drinks and a laugh.” 

“First round’s on me,” Jamie promised with a grin. 

The sound of tapping down the line and a series of beeps as Rebecca did something with her ship’s computer. “I’m picking up your signal from hyperspace just past Bandomeer. I won’t be able to meet up with your transport until you come out of hyperspace for a stop over at Corsin tomorrow afternoon. Think you can survive that long?” 

Leaning back, Jamie exhaled a long relieved breath, her shoulders slumping. “It’ll have to do. Thanks, Becs. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.”

And just like that, the call ended. No fanfare. No goodbyes. That’s how it always was with her — touch and go. Probably why the two of them got along so well, Jamie thought. Not many people could go without exchanging a single word for four years and then pick up where they’d left off as if no time had passed at all. 

Jamie pushed the transceiver away. Dani was watching her with a curious tilt of her head so that a lock of her hair was curled along the column of her neck in a way that made Jamie want to reach out and card her fingers through her hair. 

“She seems nice,” Dani said.

“It’s complicated.”

Understanding lit up in Dani’s mismatched eyes. “Ah.” 

“Not like that,” Jamie said quickly. “We never - I just meant that she’s complicated. For a smuggler like Rebecca, trust is its own currency. And now I owe her a very big favour.” 

Dani nodded but didn’t comment further. She had turned her attention back to the huddle of Jawas, listening to them quibble and murmur together. “As much as I like them,” she said, “I don’t think we can hide here for a full day without imposing.”

That and Jamie could not imagine trying to sleep in a pile with a bunch of Jawas. She made a face at the very thought. It was cramped with two people in one of these rooms. Let alone eleven. Even if the other nine were less than a meter in height and smelled of damp womprat. 

“Please tell me the alternative doesn’t involve the garbage chute,” Dani said. 

 --

The alternative only partially involved the garbage chute. And even then, they only had to use it once to ferry their way up to the mid decks when their transport dropped out of hyperspace and docked at Corsin. Jamie kept checking over her shoulder for sign of the Jedi and the Troopers as she and Dani snuck off the transport with a crowd of others. She did not relax even as they stepped free of the transport and into the hangar bays of Corsin.

The arched transparisteel ceiling was a void of star-speckled ink viewing out into space, and far below the planet was a marble of blue oceans and green islands, white tufts of cloud drifting across its surface. 

“It looks beautiful,” said Dani, pausing to wistfully admire the planet below. 

“It looks unaffordable,” Jamie replied, not sparing it a glance and instead standing up on her toes, craning her neck to get a better look around the hangar. 

“Reminds me of Alderaan.” 

It was said almost softly enough that Jamie couldn’t hear it. Jamie stopped her search and turned back to Dani, who was still staring longingly out the windows. Hesitating for a second, Jamie curled her fingers around Dani’s hand. Startled, Dani blinked at her.

Jamie offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “C’mon,” she said, and gave Dani’s hand a tug. 

Dani did not pull her hand away as Jamie pulled her along further into the hangar in search of their ticket out of this mess. She linked their fingers together and held on tight, her hand cold; Dani was always cold. Jamie needed to think about buying her a set of thermals. 

Pushing through the crowd, they made their way from various bay to various bay. Other passengers who knew their destinations went straight to the cruiser that would ferry them down to the planet below. Most of them wore enough Ottegan silk to last Jamie a year if she sold it on the black market, no questions asked. This was not a planet for people like them, and a few security droids around the place had started to take notice of that fact. Jamie was constructing an elaborate lie in her head about how they were janitorial staff, when she finally saw her. 

Rebecca was standing before a side bay with her hand resting easily on the holster of her blaster pistol. She looked just as Jamie remembered. All in smart and durable beige and black, the cut of her clothes fashionable in a rakish sort of way but unafraid of hard labour. Her dark hair was longer and was bound in a long plait over one shoulder. And her dark skin was slightly darker, too — she must have been visiting a sunny planet lately. Letting go of Dani’s hand and striding forward with a broad smile, Jamie caught her in a fierce warm hug.

“God, but it’s good to see you again,” Jamie said. 

Only one of Rebecca’s hands came up to rest against Jamie’s back to return the hug. When she pulled back slightly her smile had an oddly sad slant, and she murmured, “I really am sorry for this, Jamie.” 

Jamie blinked, her face falling. “What -?” 

Before she could move, Rebecca’s other hand came up and pressed something to Jamie’s flank. A flash of something like fire rippled through Jamie’s body, and then she slumped forwards into Rebecca’s arms, the world spinning and going dark. 

 --

When Jamie came to, she had a splitting headache and her side felt like it had been kicked by a very large very angry animal. She winced and slowly sat up with a groan. Blinking muzzily, she took inventory of her surroundings. Just a small room sheathed in dark metal panels from floor to ceiling, complete with the only door blocked by yellow plasma beam bars, and a Czerka logo stamped into one of the panels on the hallway outside. 

And worst of all: no Dani in sight.

Great. Alone in the brig of a Czerka ship. And given her shit luck, Jamie had an inkling of exactly whose ship this belonged to as well. 

“Fuck,” she said, lingering emphatically over every aspect of the word. 

She had been placed along a bench in the cell, and now she dragged her sorry carcass into the corner so that she could prop her legs atop the bench and lean her head back against the wall. When the world finally stopped trying to tilt with every sluggish beat of her heart, Jamie patted herself down. 

No mining laser, of course. That would’ve been the first thing they stripped off of her. No credit chits in her pocket. No multitools that she always kept on her person in case she ever needed to disassemble some machinery at work. The dogtags were still around her neck at least. At least if she died, whoever found her would be able to identify her body and return it to Tython or wherever the fuck nobodies like her in The Order went after death. Small miracles. 

Nothing for it, then. She staggered upright and went to use the loo. When she’d finished, she returned to her place on the bench and thought about how fucked she was. 

She’d been in plenty of bad scrapes in her time, but this was taking the coveted position of ‘Worst Hole Ever Dug by Jamie Taylor — May the Force Be With Her.’

A door opened in the near distance, then another, followed by quick footsteps. Jamie frowned at the hallway, waiting for some Czerka pillock to come take her away and shove her out an airlock. Instead Rebecca came into swift view.

"Here," she said, sliding Jamie's handheld mining laser along the floor through the bars, then began trying to pry a section of the wall away from the hallway in order to reveal a nest of wires leading to the control panel. "I've disabled the alarms and cameras for the brig, but we don't have much time. There's a cruiser docked in bay three. It has a hyperdrive and enough rations to get you to wherever you need to go. The Czerka fleet won't fire upon it so long as you're quick and you don't let them figure out it's you."

Jamie did not move. Teeth clenched, she crossed her arms and glowered at the opposite wall. 

"Jamie -"

"Nope," Jamie said, jaw taut, refusing to even look in her direction.

"Listen to me," Rebecca gave up on hacking the control panel. She tried to move into Jamie's line of sight but Jamie kept turning her head aside. "There is more to this than what it appears. I know about the infiltration of House Thul. I know about the -"

"I don't care about what you know,” Jamie cut her off.  "If you think I'll listen to another word out of your mouth, then you've got another thing coming."

"I'm trying to make sure I can get you out of here alive, you thick-headed Rim-Rat!" Rebecca snapped.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place!”

With a bitter laugh, Rebecca leaned against the frame of the cell, careful to not touch the plasma beam bars. “That’s rich, knowing your history. I’ve never met a person who gets into more trouble than you.”

Jamie put on her best sneer and asked, "What's Quint got over you this time, then? Eh?"

Rebecca shook her head and looked away with an incredulous noise, hands on her hips. "It's not like that."

"Like hell it's not," Jamie growled. "All that time you spent outwitting the Empire, and now this? He is Imperial through and through."

"I know exactly what Peter is."

"Yeah. A piece of shit, who'd sell his mother if it means saving his own sorry hide." 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rebecca said and her voice was low. She darted her eyes down the hall, as if watching for any potential eavesdroppers. “And you are in far deeper shit than you could possibly understand. That woman you’re with -”

Sitting up straighter, Jamie swung her legs over the side of the bench and onto the ground, suddenly alert. “Where is she?” 

Rebecca fixed her with a serious expression. Rather than answer, she said, “She’s dangerous.” 

“She’s scared,” Jamie corrected. 

“Which is quite possibly the worst thing for her to be.”

Rising to her feet, Jamie glowered through the plasma bars. Her voice was pure venom. “If you had just helped me get her to Tython, then I could’ve gotten her proper training.”

“The Order won’t take her.”

Jamie had to stop herself from striking out at the bars, even knowing they would give her burns all across her skin. “You know fuck all about The Order!” she snarled, pointing at Rebecca’s infuriatingly calm face through the bars. 

In the distance a door opened with a hiss of pressurized air. Both Jamie and Rebecca tensed and looked over in that direction. Or, well, Jamie tried to look but the view from the cell was pretty limited, all things considered. She'd had better views from the brigs of far less fancy ships than this.

Footsteps approached. Turning back, Rebecca lowered her voice and said in a rush, "Jamie, listen to me for once in your life. You are my friend, and I am going to get you out of this, but you have to do what I say."

Jamie shook her head. "No. Not without her."

Swearing fluently under her breath, Rebecca slammed the section of wall back into place to hide her attempted tampering. She’d only just managed to get everything in place and turn around, when no less than four Czerka guards in green and gold livery marched into sight. All of them were holding blaster rifles and were armoured to boot. They weren’t walking military-grade arsenals like the Republic Troopers from the transport, but they still weren’t people Jamie wanted to fuck with unless she had some serious firepower at her back. Hastily Jamie hid her mining laser in one of her bulky pockets, praying they wouldn’t pat her down. 

“You shouldn’t be down here,” one of them said to Rebecca. 

Rebecca pointed to a corner of the ceiling. “I noticed the cameras were down and came to investigate in case the prisoner managed to escape.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, then stomped past her to key in a code into the control panel leading to Jamie’s cell. “Next time, alert one of us instead.” 

The plasma bars fizzed out of existence. The leader of this particular pillock squad made a sharp motion to the others, and two of them marched forward, grabbed Jamie by the shoulders, and hauled her upright. 

“Easy does it, lads,” Jamie grumbled. “Could’ve just asked.”

One of them clipped her on the back of the head with his gauntleted fist. “Quiet.” 

After they yanked her hands behind her back and clipped a set of handcuffs around her wrists, they marched her out of the cell. Jamie gave Rebecca the dirtiest glare she possibly could, and Rebecca just rolled her eyes in response, trailing after the group. Two sets of hands remained firm around Jamie’s upper arms as they walked, guiding her further into the depths of the ship. 

When they all crowded into an elevator together, doors sliding shut behind them, a cheerful cantina tune began to play. 

“So,” Jamie ventured. “Don’t suppose anyone’s got a light?” 

No answer. From the corner of her vision, Jamie could just make out Rebecca biting back an ill-timed smile in the back of the elevator. Or maybe she was trying to stop herself from screaming in frustration. Difficult to tell from this angle. 

“Just trying to be neighbourly,” Jamie grumbled.

“Shut up,” said one of the guards whose fingers dug into her arm. 

A light dinged, the music stopped, and the elevator doors opened with a hiss. Jamie couldn’t see beyond the massive frame of the two guards standing in front of her, but soon the four of them were flanking her as they all moved forward, leading her onto the bridge of what appeared to be Peter Quint’s flagship. 

Or at least, that was what Jamie assumed. And given that Peter Quint was standing at the head of the bridge, she reckoned she wasn’t too far off the mark. 

His hands were clasped behind his back and he faced away, looking out through the transparisteel windows at the sleek fore of the ship pointing into space, surrounded by a veritable fleet of other vessels that looked like they were on direct loan from the Empire. The long hems of Peter’s dark coat brushed his ankles, but he did not turn around or indeed take any notice of the new arrivals. In fact, he seemed engaged in deep conversation with someone whom Jamie could not see. The light glinted off one of his hands, the metal dark of his cybernetic limb dark. If Jamie hadn’t been looking for it, she might have mistaken it for a glove of some sort. 

The bridge split into three segments, the centre being command ending in a . Two of the guards veered off to the left, while another marched straight forward to address Peter. The last kept a firm hold of Jamie’s arm and hauled her off to the right, circling around while Rebecca trailed behind them, silent. As they went, Jamie got a better view of exactly who Peter was talking to, and she started.

“Dani -” 

The guard yanked at Jamie’s arm to keep her on course, and the three of them stopped at the head of the right wing, separated from command by a pit sunk into the floor, where engineers and pilots and God only knows who else toiled away pressing buttons or something. Jamie had no idea what was required to run a ship this size. Armed men, apparently, for that constituted the majority of people on the bridge. Guards at the doors. Guards at the helm. Guards along the walls.

Dani’s wrists weren’t bound with handcuffs, but she was kneeling on the ground as if she’d fallen there, and her cheek bore a bruise that was already starting to go purple. Her shoulders were hunched around her ears, and she was leaning away from Peter. When Jamie had spoken, Dani’s eyes flicked in her direction then widened. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but snapped it shut once more, wringing her hands together in her lap. She was not wearing the lightsabre anywhere on her person. 

Peter had tilted his head to listen to whatever report the guard was delivering to him. He nodded and the guard went away with a sharp salute. And then he turned to look at Jamie. 

“Jamie,” he said, “It’s been a minute.”

“Yeah, not nearly enough,” Jamie muttered. 

The guard cuffed her again. Not enough to bruise, but enough to sting. On the other side of her, Jamie saw Rebecca’s hand tighten into a fist. 

If Peter seemed at all troubled by this exchange, he did not show it. “You’ve led us on a bit of a merry chase, you know. Could’ve saved me the trouble and just let me have her back on Telos IV.” 

Nodding towards Dani, Jamie said, "Since when do you care about dead Jedi? Or bounties for that matter? You’re rolling in credits."

Peter let out a bark of laughter. "About - what?" He looked down at Dani, saw the stricken expression on her face, and then he smiled that sickly sweet smile of his. "Oh, I see."

Dani did not move. She did not speak.

When Peter continued speaking, it was not to Jamie. “No, it’s not credits I’m after. Or Jedi. But you know that. Don’t you, darling?” He crouched down before Dani, who shrank back from him. His voice was soft when he said, "You know what I want. Just give it back, love, and you can be on your way. I'll even give you your own personal escort back to Alderaan with enough credits to drown yourself in. How does that sound?"

Dani blinked up at him in surprise. Then her eyes darted in Jamie's direction.

Peter followed her gaze, and Jamie wanted to burn the smirk off his smug fucking face. "Ah, no," he said, turning back to Dani. "I'm afraid that one stays with me."

Dani licked at her lips and straightened her shoulders. "You let her go, or I won’t give it to you."

From this angle Jamie couldn't see the expression on Peter's face. His broad shoulders held a barely restrained tension, as though on the cusp of explosive movement. And when he spoke, even the gentle softness of his voice was a lie, "Very well. You have my word."

Don't, Jamie wanted to shout in warning. Don't do it.

Slowly, Dani reached into her cloak and unpicked a section of the lining, revealing a makeshift hidden pocket. She rummaged around then pulled something out and set it on the floor. Jamie strained to get a better look. Her captor kneed her roughly in the back for her trouble, and she would've gone face first into the ground if not for the hand in her hair yanking her back so that she remained upright.

It didn't stop her from catching a glimpse of what was being exchanged, however. Shards of metal, black gold. All in pieces, like a disassembled puzzle.

Peter was silent. He stared down at the pieces Dani had placed at his feet. Then in a smooth motion he stood, pushing himself upright to loom over her. 

"Do you think this is funny?" he asked in that too quiet, too dangerous tone.

Eyes wide, Dani shook her head. "No, I -"

Peter kicked the pieces away with a vicious swipe of his foot, and Dani flinched back with a startled cry. He darted forward and seized a handful of her cloak.

"Where is it?" he snarled.

"That's - That's all I have! The box fell apart after I touched it, I swear!"

Peter's hand tightened around the fabric, pulling up so that Dani was held slightly off the ground by the scruff of her neck, her feet scrambling for purchase on the metal flooring. "Box?" he repeated. "I'm not asking about a fucking toy box! Where is the holocron?"

"The -? The what?"

With a vicious curse, he threw her back onto the ground. Dani caught herself on her hands with a hiss of pain, and she flinched back when Peter began to circle her. 

"Don't play dumb," he said. "You know what I'm after."

"I don't -"

"You think I'm fucking blind? You think a piece of shit nobody from a backwater in Alderaan can kill a Jedi? You think you just woke up one day with powers?" He stalked around her, his expression a mask of fury. "You are nothing. You are nobody. You're not Force sensitive. You're a puppet. Just a piece of meat to house something greater, and you don't even fucking know it!"

The deck fell silent but for the beep of electronics, the rustle of fabric as pilots kept the ship on course. Jamie darted a look towards Rebecca, but her face was carefully blank and guarded, her thumb hooked through the belt of her blaster pistol in a way that Jamie knew meant she was actually nervous about something. None of which boded well.

“I was so close,” Peter was saying, and he didn’t even seem to be talking to Dani anymore. His words were a ranting mutter, wrathful and desperate. The metal of his robotic arm clicked in a menacing fashion every time he clenched his hand into a rhythmic fist. “This was it. This was my last run. The last deed I’d ever have to do for those evil cocksuckers on Dromund Kaas. Plant a holocron and be done with it. Be free of the Empire forever. Until you -”

His voice trailed off and his steps slowed to a halt. In the muddy light of the bridge, he was a faceless silhouette. He clenched his metal fist so tightly that it creaked and sparked. Dani shivered on the ground at his feet, her shoulders hunched, as though she were trying to make herself small enough to disappear. 

“You went snooping. You took something that didn’t belong to you. And I need it back. No matter the price.” In a swift movement, Peter crouched down on his haunches again. Dani flinched back, but Peter merely watched her for a long and uncomfortable moment before he continued, “So, what’s it going to be?”

From where she stood, Jamie could just make out the defiant set of Dani’s jaw. 

Sighing, Peter reached out and tucked a stray curl of hair behind Dani’s ear, while Dani sat, frozen in place. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like hurting people,” he said. “Always the worst way of going about it. And, you know, it just doesn’t work as well as you’d think. So, tell me. What’s your price? Hmm? What do I have to do to get you to talk?” 

When again Dani did not answer, Peter withdrew his hand. “Normally I’m a patient man, but as we live and breathe, there’s a Dark Lord of the Sith coming our way. If you don’t deal with me, then you’ll be dealing with him. And I assure you: you want to be dealing with me instead.” 

Licking her lips, Dani said, “I already told you everything I know.” 

“Well, that is disappointing.”

Jamie tried to shift her feet slightly so she could get a better angle on the rest of the bridge, but the guard behind her kicked her in the back of the knee. When she went down with a grunt of pain, her knee slamming into the ground, the guard then yanked her back up by the handcuffs behind her with enough force she felt her arm sockets complain. 

“Get up,” the guard growled, and Jamie shot him a look that should have dropped him on the spot. 

The brief commotion drew Peter and Dani’s attention back in this direction. Peter pushed himself upright and turned, while Dani’s panicked gaze moved from him to Jamie and back again. 

“Or maybe I’m going about this the wrong way,” Peter murmured. He walked slowly across the bridge towards Jamie.  

“Even if I did know something, you and I both know I’d rather cut out my own tongue than tell you,” Jamie spat. The guard tightened his hold on her handcuffs, but she pinned him in place with a fierce glare and said, “Touch me again, and I’ll end you, mate.” 

Peter held up his hand before the guard could react. When Jamie faced him once more, Peter was close enough that she could see the thin scar on his cheek. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been the one to give it to him. She didn’t know where in his sordid past he’d gotten it. 

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile that never touched his eyes. “Oh, Jamie. I never thought you actually knew something. You’re much too simple to get sensible answers before leaping to a lost cause.” 

In spite of herself, Jamie’s gaze darted to Dani who was watching their interaction with naked dread. 

Peter followed her gaze and grinned. “Aye,” he said. “That’s the one.” 

And without further ado, he drew his blaster pistol, pointed it at Jamie, and shot her. The smell of burnt flesh was an afterthought to the blinding pain that sent her vision white. Jamie staggered, keeling slowly over the charred wound low in her abdomen just above her hip. Something cold was pressed against her face, and it was with a blurred realisation that Jamie found herself lying on the floor. She blinked through the muzzy borders of her vision, trying to move and only managing to gurgle weakly. 

Right. Bad idea, that. 

At least blaster fire didn’t allow for my bleeding. Mass internal burn trauma, yes, but she wasn’t about to bleed out on the floor. Every breath was a sharp lance through Jamie’s stomach. She pushed herself into a crouch on all fours, registering the commotion around her as if experiencing it through water. 

“ - Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare -!” 

“Peter, killing her gets you nothing. You should -”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Becs! I won’t be taking orders ever again! Not from you, and especially not from the Empire!”

“Then get what you need, but Jamie doesn’t have it. And neither, it seems, does she.” 

Three sets of boots surrounded her. The guard beside her, and Rebecca standing between her and Peter. As Jamie tilted her head up, Peter started to stalk away. His footsteps were loud against the metal grating of the floor, and he dropped heavily into the captain’s chair at the head of the bridge. He had holstered his pistol and now he reached down to pick up something that had been propped up against the base of the chair. 

He pressed a button, and the lightsabre leapt to life. The blue light scattered across his face. “The holocron isn’t on Alderaan,” Peter said. “We did a very thorough check. Which means you -” he pointed the lightsabre at Dani, who was now standing at the centre of the bridge facing him, “- must have left it somewhere between there and Telos IV.” 

Dani’s expression was dark, her hands were trembling fists at her side. 

With a sigh, Peter sheathed the lightsabre and set it on the arm of his chair. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs so that his ankle was propped on his opposite knee. Addressing the guard beside Jamie, he said, “Rebecca’s right Jamie doesn’t know anything of use. Take her to the lower decks and throw her out the airlock.” 

The guard did not even say an affirmative. He simply hauled Jamie to her feet, and began dragging her back towards the exit despite Rebecca’s protests. 

“Leave her alone.” 

There was something wrong with Dani’s voice. An odd burr, a hard quality that did not suit her. She still had her gaze fixed upon Peter, but something in the way she spoke made every person in the room tense. The guard shoving Jamie along froze, looking back towards Peter for further instruction. 

There was an internal pressure building in Jamie’s chest, something like desperation, like the acrid aftertaste of gunmetal and blasterfire. All around them, the wall panels groaned. A few crumpled beneath the strain. Rupture of pipe and control panels, and with a screech of metal on metal all the lights on the bridge went out. Steam from the burst pipes billowed along the floor. Every guard in the room — even Jamie’s — raised their weapon towards Dani, glancing nervously around. Moments later, the emergency lighting flickered to life, illuminating the deck with a faint glow. 

Quint’s face was cast from below. Unlike the others, he had not moved, remaining slouched on his captain’s chair like a low-slung throne. He smiled at Dani. “Was that supposed to impress anyone?” 

Dani reached out her hand and the sabre that had been resting on the arm of Peter’s chair was in Dani’s grasp before Jamie could even blink, as though it had leapt into place there. With a press of her thumb, the blade extended, slicing a blue line through the gloom. The air was cold, so cold that Jamie could see her own breath misting in a cloud, and the icy fear that had twisted in her chest was a thing now slicked with darkness. A treachery of black ice beneath every step. 

She watched, handcuffed and helpless, as Dani gripped the sabre so tightly that her hands shook. One of Dani’s eyes gleamed gold and bright, unblinking, fixed upon Peter, and from the hilt a crimson light peeled down the length of the blade, a slow and burning bleed of kyber, until the sabre was completely engulfed in a light as red as a dying star. 

“Open fire,” Peter said, voice trembling, face pale, staring at her with wide eyes. He jabbed his finger in Dani’s direction and repeated in a shout to the room at large, “Open fucking fire!”

Over a dozen guardsmen sighted down their blaster rifles and began shooting. The lightsabre was a living thing in Dani’s hands. It moved in ways Jamie had only ever seen in training manuals, in the hands of Knights and Masters. No motion wasted. Every angle of the blade made with surety of purpose. 

Four guards were dead by their own reflected blaster fire before they could even manage to pull the trigger a second time. Dani reached out, and four others had their rifles ripped from their hands, the weapons warping into useless hunks of metal and cast aside. One of the guards stationed at the exit raced forward, pulling out a long knife that had been strapped to his thigh. Dani did not even pause in deflecting incoming blaster fire; she swept the lightsabre behind her, passing the hilt between her hands and bringing it back around. Half of the guard’s severed body went careening into the control pit, where the pilots and engineers cowered with hands over their heads. The other half skidded to a halt on the floor, dead weight. 

Jamie’s mouth hung open. Blaster fire continued to fly through the air in streaks of red. The guard who had been assigned to her was torn between trying to shoot Dani and trying to keep a hand on his charge. Then Rebecca stepped forward, pressed the muzzle of her pistol to the side of his head, and pulled the trigger. He crumpled into a heap on the ground, and Jamie swore loudly. 

Crouching down, Rebecca grabbed something off the guard’s body and used it to unlock Jamie’s handcuffs. “Don’t just stand there!” Rebecca yelled over the din, and she circled an arm around Jamie’s waist to help her along. “Let’s go!”

The two of them lurched towards the exit. A deflected shot struck the ground beside them, and they ducked down. Smoke and steam filled the air. The smell of blaster fire and burnt flesh was thick enough to make Jamie gag. Cursing under her breath all the while, Rebecca pulled Jamie to the exit, where a guardsman was sprawled, dead on the floor with a hole the size of a fist burnt through his chest. Rebecca had to let go of Jamie for a second to haul the guard closer so she could use his hand to unlock the biosecurity lock on the exit. The panel flashed green, and Rebecca dropped the guard in favour of Jamie again. 

The elevator was eleven floors down and slowly started to ascend. 

“Come on,” Rebecca was muttering under her breath to herself. “Come on, come on, come on -”

Behind them, the blaster fire dwindled to a halt. There was the sound of something heavy and wet falling to the ground. With a thrill of sickening fear gripping her stomach, Jamie turned and felt Rebecca do the same.

The walls were scarred and pitted. A shower of sparks fell from the ceiling where a wall panel had been shot loose. Through the haze of smoke, Jamie could make out the shape of bodies scattered across the floor, and at the very centre of it all Dani stood. 

Her back was to them. She faced the captain’s chair, the lightsabre burning red through the acrid smoke. For a moment it seemed Peter was standing to his feet, but then Jamie realised he was being lifted up. He grasped at his throat with both hands, heels lashing out at the air, making wordless strangled noises, gasping. Then his head snapped to one side with a sickening crack, and he went still. Dani looked up at him and with an almost lazy gesture, tossed him aside. His body slammed into a far wall and fell to the ground in a heap.

Jamie’s pulse skyrocketed when Dani turned around and looked at them. And when Dani started to stalk in their direction, adrenaline coursed through Jamie; every nerve in her body was screaming for her to flee, to hide in some small dark place until this danger had passed over the land like the shadow of night. 

Dani’s cold gaze fell upon Rebecca, and she raised the lightsabre once more. 

“Woah!” Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it was the pain doing funny things to her head, but Jamie leapt in front of Rebecca, hands trembling and lifted as though in surrender. “No, no! I mean, yeah, I’m also mad at her, but I don’t want her to die!” 

“Thanks,” muttered Rebecca behind her. 

“Shut up,” Jamie muttered back. 

Dani had gone still, but the weapon was still a gleaming line of bloody crimson held overhead.

“She can get us a cruiser with a hyperdrive,” Jamie said. “We can get out of here. Just - put down the lightsabre? Please?” 

The elevator made a bright ding behind them and the doors slid open. Dani leveled the lightsabre and for a brief terrifying moment Jamie thought she was going to cut it straight through her from shoulder to hip. The blade stopped, pointing at Rebecca just over Jamie’s shoulder, and she made a sharp little gesture with the tip that Jamie could hear burning up the air right next to her ear. 

"Move," Dani ordered softly, and her voice sounded odd. As though there was more than one person speaking in unison.

Rebecca moved, backing slowly into the elevator. Lowering her hands, Jamie followed. Dani watched them with the fixedness of a predator, the air around her cold enough that Jamie shivered when Dani stepped into the small enclosed space with them. The lightsabre still seared in Dani’s fist, pointed towards the ground. Rebecca hit a button for hangar bay three, and the doors of the elevator shut with a hiss. 

The elevator started its descent. If this had been any other time, Jamie might have been tempted to reach out, gently grasp Dani’s wrist and urge her to put the lightsabre away. But this was not any other time, and there was nothing of the woman Jamie had grown to know over the last week in Dani’s face now. She stared blankly at the shut elevator doors, never blinking.

They arrived at hangar bay three and Rebecca immediately rushed over to the console that controlled access to the ship docked just beyond the hangar doors. She hooked something into the base of the console, making the screen flicker before giving her full admin privileges. As she started keying in the right commands, Jamie walked up beside her. 

Dani drifted behind her, blade in hand, completely silent. It felt like being followed by a mute ghost. 

Whatever Rebecca did worked. The hangar doors unlatched, turned, then slowly opened to reveal the sleek polished interior of a luxury cruiser yacht. Jamie stepped into the yacht’s entryway and looked around at the gleaming walls. Finally, Dani hit the button to sheathe the lightsabre and brushed past Jamie without a glance in her direction, vanishing around a corner of the cruiser. The brief contact made Jamie shiver. 

“Right. Okay,” said Jamie, hand pressing on the wound at her abdomen, still jittery from that feeling of being prey in the sights of something with very big teeth. She turned to Rebecca. “Fuck you, I guess?” 

From behind the console, Rebecca smiled weakly at her. “I suppose I deserve that. Does this mean I owe you a favour?”

“The biggest favour,” Jamie said gravely. “Like - seriously huge.”

“Until next time, then. Oh, and Jamie?” Rebecca said, and Jamie paused to glance back at her. “Don’t die.” 

Swallowing thickly, Jamie nodded, then Rebecca hit the button to shut the doors.  

Easier said than done.

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #roman writes #no great revelation #damie #dani clayton/jamie

[princesses-and-bitchcraft]

i want to ask you a ship too but 1) im not sure what you ship, and 2) every ship im invested in and would ask about is like,,, garbage fire and definitely not as sweet and fluffy as these prompts

soo i checked your ao3 and you have like 2 missy/clara fics and i'd love to see you try to answer these prompts for them adhsfkjshgkj good luck

(also now that ive seen your ao3 name, i think ive seen you in my kudos? maybe? i might be wrong. NO im not wrong! i checked. you have read at least one of my fics. i didnt know that was you)

Akdjghsjgkfhd yeah ever since I've been trying to be more active on ao3 leaving people comments and stuff I've been running into a lot of cases of like. Not mistaken identity per se but a lot of cases of "oh shit I did not know that was you!!!". I'm a bit of a mess about introducing myself to people, in that I mostly Do Not.

Anyways I am in fact a rampant multishipper in pretty much every fandom I ever Consume, first and foremost. Sure I can have Preferences but I easily put that aside. I do not remotely understand ship wars. What the heck people. Two solutions: start poly shipping (✔️) and start multishipping (✔️).

This should be fun though. I do really really love thinking about these two. I don't know what it was that flipped that particular switch in my head but I'm obsessed.

Who is most affectionate: Missy, but specifically in an annoying way. Affection as a way to get a rise out of someone. Weaponized affection, as it were. Especially in inappropriate situations.

Who initiates hand holding: Clara, but also in a vaguely weaponized manner: if Clara is holding Missy's hand, Missy has one less hand with which to Cause Problems. Or so she says.

Who worries more about the other one: also Clara because hello???? Missy is literally always getting into Something. Clara has to leave class early because unit calls to tell her they've got her definitely NOT girlfriend in a prison cell again and would you come and Deal with her or do we need to get the Doctor involved? Missy shows up out of nowhere covered in blood on more occasions than Clara wants to think about. Etc etc etc.

Who is more likely to ask for help: NEITHER OF THEM OH MY GOD!!!! They both will go to increasingly desperate measure of escalating whatever situation is causing an issue to avoid it. They've probably both almost died at least once because of it. The Doctor shows up unexpectedly and hauls them both into the TARDIS once when straits are particularly dire. None of them want to talk about that.

Who is always losing the keys: Clara, but only because Missy hides them.

Who leaves littles notes: Missy, but again, they are usually somehow inappropriate in either content, presentation, or both.

Who can't sleep without the other one: Missy!!!!! I have strong feelings that I will not elaborate on. (Not for any particular reason, I'm just Bad At Words. Depsite. Being a writer.)

Who is more likely to propose: I think you could have a scenario where they have been cohabitating for like a fucking decade or something and STILL neither of them will admit that the other one means anything to them so. Definitely neither of them.

Who introduced the other to their family first: this question is sort of inapplicable. Missy's only "family" is sort of just. The Doctor. And Clara's probably had enough trouble to last a lifetime from the ill-fated introduction or the Doctor to hers. But the idea of Clara somehow being in a situation where she has to introduce and Explain Missy to her family is definitely kind of hilarious.

Who plays with the other's hair: I don't have any kind of opinion here really. Personally I hate having my hair played with, so I mostly just don't think about it lol

Who makes sure the other eats: I think they're both relatively okay at taking care of themselves generally, at least in this type of sense. (Less so in the sense of like. Not throwing themselves into life threatening situations. They're both very bad at that.) So they probably both take turns when the other one is having a Hard Time for whatever reason.

Who is more likely to stand up for the other: I think Clara probably has a chip on her shoulder about trying to sort of Prove Herself to Missy at least for a while and will throw herself into all kinds of unnecessary situations to stand up for her definitely-not-a-girlfriend-I-barely-even-like-her. Conversely, Missy will stand to the side laughing a Clara's misfortunes, perhaps even Actively Antagonizing her along with whoever else, at least until there's an Actual Threat that needs neutralizing. It will be neutralized swiftly and without prejudice.

Who is more likely to prepare a surprise for the other: again, Missy, but inappropriately.

Who makes the other pinky promise certain things: Clara makes Missy pinky promise not kill her on the reg 🤣🤣🤣

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch: idk, either/or? Both? I'll take it or leave it I don't care lol

#thanks for playin fam #i'll probably want to be able to find this again wont i? #midori's word vomit #there we go #i feel like ive used the word inappropriate so much but like i dont necessarily mean DIRTY. only sometimes. #just like. situationally inappropriate. that kinda thing. #anyway this was a lot of fun!!!! thank you!!!!! #writing

[clumsyclifford]

just finished writing this and realized how long it got oh jeez i am so sorry. i promise it is just me rambling about nothing and does not require a lot of thought.

i made a playlist of r5's entire discography and am listening to it (in order) because there is something wrong with me. if only it had their very first ever ep on it (ready set rock ep you may have been slight garbage but i don't love you any less for it). oh god i realized i fucked up and didn't add the songs by "ross lynch and r5" from the austin & ally soundtrack. i'm already three songs into louder and they would have been between louder and say you'll stay. what do i have to do is actually one of r5's best songs and i'm pretty sure i remember ross calling it one of his favs fairly recently?? which was so valid of him. anyways. this is now an r5 song ranking. i'm bored and avoiding doing assignments. i'm going to name my top 10 r5 songs off the top of my head. source: me trying to remember every song they've ever released.

no. 1: easy love. nothing comes close. my fav song they ever made. they haven't made anything that even compares since (this is /hj. tde has some valid songs).

no. 2: wishing i was 23. what do you mean i only love this song because of my nostalgia bias no i don't.

no. 3: what do i have to do? i will not elaborate i do not know why i adore this song as much as i do it's just a cute song.

no. 4: repeating days. THE END. THE FUCKING END AFTER THE SONG ENDS THE "all i've got is cheap wine" PART ross sounds so vulnerable and him with just the guitar makes me so :(((((( it's so gorgeous that part makes the whole song and that makes it top 3 for me.

no. 5: i want u bad. THAT SONG FUCKS LIVE. I DO NOT WANT TO THINK ABOUT THE FACT THAT I WILL PROBABLY NEVER SEE IT LIVE AGAIN. (speaking of concerts i can't believe you bought concert tix and fucking forgot??? that is actually so fucking funny bella it made me laugh i will not lie)

no. 6: dark side. so so valid of them. it just fucks. it's so good. it makes u want to dance. u named a fic after a lyric from it which was so valid.

no. 7: did you have your fun? i love this song. no i will not elaborate. it is a sexy song. what's that one lyric from it that's hot. "love me, leave me, left me numb" some lyrics you love for no particular reason and for me that's one of those lyrics.

no. 8: f.e.e.l.g.o.o.d. this has alwayysss been one of my favs by them. since it dropped. some lore about it: the like crowd yelling that's in it they recorded live at a festival they played and i remember there being hype about this being an unreleased song when they had the crowd chanting "f-e-e-l-g-o-o-d" with no explanation. also another fun fact is that the final version of this is just a demo?? source: my slightly faulty memory remembering ross saying something about some demos being so good that you keep them as they are and it later being revealed this was the song he was talking about.

no. 9: i know you got away. sexy song. they released a vocals only version of it (that has apparently since been deleted?? i went to look for it on youtube and couldn't find it?? wtf r5) that has stuck with me ever since.

no. 10: loud. but more specifically the acoustic or live version. this was their encore song that they played to end every show. i MISS IT. it holds a special place in my heart.

honorable mentions: hurts good (a good song and THEIR LAST THEY EVER RELEASED VV SAD), wild hearts (fun fact almost picked a lyric from this song as my senior quote till i found out they didn't write this song), fallin' for you (YOU LIKE MISMATCHED SOCKS WITH POLKA DOTS YOU LIKE YOUR PIZZA COLD I THINK THATS HOT i never saw this song live and i'm still fucking pissed about it ok), do it again (it's such a sweet song :(((( "listen to the airplanes as we count the stars" gives me the same vibes as six feet under the stars), things are looking up (generally just a cute song!! this whole ep is just very good and very cute!! when i saw it live one time during the bridge ross was like "everyone shut up this is my favorite part >:(" and that was so valid of him) i can't say i'm in love (it's just a fun song!! it was a bonus track on sln from another country), trading time (this is the only song from the new addictions ep that i listed and u know what i'm Not sorry)

ok. i will spare you and stop rambling. other honorable mentions: if you have never listened to cool girl (feat. the driver era) by new beat fund i highly recommend. it's an okay song but it was one of the first songs released after they rebranded as tde and includes ross saying motherfucker with his whole chest. i will never again feel what i felt the first time i heard that song having listened exclusively to them as r5 whose songs they couldn't curse in because they were on a disney label.

in conclusion. i miss r5. ross saying fuck is kinda hot. i listened to the entirety of louder while writing this. i am sorry to dump this in your askbox. i still have multiple assignments to do and should probably go to sleep at a decent time. it feels fitting to finally stop writing while easy love is on. when i was 12 and this ep came out i thought "dirtbags" was a curse word and was scared to sing it. they changed it to "douchebags" live.

that's all. goodbye. have a lovely night. listen to r5's discography for clear skin thriving crops etc etc. sorry to lovepost about them in your askbox i only have (1) former r5 mutual that i still talk to (a very interesting but long story. she's the gemini bestie) and she will only lovepost about r5 once in a while. feel free to ignore my ask calling cody bellinger hot i was a different person when i wrote it i am now a changed woman. LOVE YOU MWAH - bella but she misses r5

hi hi im going to answer this with minimal thought because im tired but i dont wanna leave this sitting in my inbox forever but for the record all your r5 opinions are valid. ok lets go

1. easy love slaps ive heard it a couple times over the last few days (it played in the car today while i was driving sam n meghna to the airport) and it does fuck i can see why it's your fave

2. i do not know this song

3. A BOP A WHOLE FUCKIN BOP

4. oh i do love repeating days great choice i would have to hear it a few more times to get it in my head but i remember really liking it when i listened to the album it's on

5. also a banger and i'm glad my concert tickets situation made you laugh it made me laugh too imagine being this useless gldskfjgs

6. DARK SIDE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKS GIVE IN TO YOUR DARK SIDE YOUR DARK SIDE IIIIIIIII SEE THE WAY YOU LOOK AT MEEEEE

7. ANOTHER FUCKING BANGER this one is probably among my favorite r5 songs maybe top 5 LOVE ME LEAVE ME LEFT ME NUMB (guitar moment) DID YOU HAVE YOUR FUUUuuuuUUUUUNNNNN i feel the same way about this lyric as you

8. oh shit thats pretty cool i dont know this song tbh i cant remember how it goes i know ive heard it once or twice but. id have to listen to it again so i will keep you posted on that

9. i do not know this one either

10. interesting choice for top ten but i support you, this song fucks and ever since you mentioned it it's been in my subconscious and randomly getting stuck in my head i think i need to listen to it to get it out. it does hit ur right

11. i don't know hurts good or wild hearts or things are looking up or i can't say i'm in love or trading time well enough to say anything about them. but i really like fallin for you it's one of those cheap fun songs but emphasis on fun, and also really like do it again one day ill write a fic based on that song

i have not listened to cool girl i put it on my to listen playlist so hopefully i remember to listen to it soon ill be honest though i dont think im prepared for ross lynch saying motherfucker w his whole chest like i think itll take me out. so. anyway. i hope you got your assignments done. thank you for the r5 lovedump feel free to drop in anytime with more

#this is a love-positive zone #we love love #here on clumsyclifford we support insane obsessions because we also have insane obsessions #ask #cubs anon #anonymous #lol i was telling my dad that i talked to rian and zack but said the most generic things ever #and i was like. i mean there were things that i would have wanted to ask but if i had then they would have known that-- #-- im like super obsessed with them in a kind of creepy way. like i wanted to ask rian what time alex was born #...so we can figure out his rising sign so we can make his star chart #and my dad was like . why would you need that #and i said. you know for funsies #he was like do you think he would even know that #and i said well in our collective opinions we think alex wouldnt know what time he was born but rian and/or jack probably would #and my dad was like its a good thing you didnt ask him that. it would have been creepy. #and i was like I KNOW THATS WHY I DIDNT ASK BECAUSE I KNEW IT WOULD HAVE BEEN CREEPY BRO #so anyway #i dont remember why i started telling this story #its 1am im so tired ive had the longest two days ever #i need sleep im going to die #i cant believe classes in two days #end me

[sparrowmoth]

ive been watching these posts all day trying to think of a word. and i DID finally. carvie + lullaby

@inertiazz This was such a blessed prompt, the headcanon went feral and became something more of a drabble, so... I offer you some soft!Carvie? ♥

Before the banishment, when Evie and Carlos were quite little and their mothers used to ignore them send them off to play while they sat down for drinks and gossip, the two of them would often end up alone in Evie’s bedroom. She had a queen-sized bed big enough for them both to drown in and high enough that they needed a stool just to get up on it, so they would clamber up and lay there with a bunch of Evie’s books to pass the time.

Sometimes so much time passed that they would start to get tired, and either they would realize their mothers intended to talk well into the night, or they would look out the window and see all the lights of Hell Hall had come on, but Cruella’s voice had faded out.

“We can have a sleepover!” Evie would whisper excitedly, and Carlos would agree to it because it was worth the trouble he’d get into the next day to sleep on a real bed with the only person who ever made him feel warm in those days. He’d hide beneath Evie’s bed until Grimhilde came to check on her before she went to sleep, and then he’d crawl out and back beneath the covers next to Evie.

She’d sigh and complain sometimes how his clothes were dirty and he “obviously” hadn’t had a shower, but that never stopped her from cuddling against him. Sometimes, she’d even sing to him when he couldn’t sleep or he’d woken them both up from a nightmare. It was always the same song, the lyrics whispered like a secret between them: “Apenas las estrellas comienzan a salir, Pin Pon se va a la cama y se acuesta a dormir. Pin Pon dame la mano con un fuerte apretón, pues quiero ser tu amigo…” [1]

Evie stopped singing it as they got older, and Carlos didn’t think he minded since he didn’t want her treating him like a baby who couldn’t fall asleep without a lullaby. They couldn’t be that soft in the world they lived in, so…

It wasn’t until several months after they had been in Auradon that Carlos found himself thinking about the song one night as he was holding an inconsolable Evie, stroking her hair gently after she’d woken from a nightmare. He only half-remembered the tune and his Spanish wasn’t as good as hers, but he started to sing his broken version of the lullaby to her, earning strange looks from Mal and Jay. He ignored them and continued to sing until Evie started to giggle, tears still streaming down her face when she raised her head to look at him.

“Arepas los estela?” [2] (Her voice was rough, but warm with humour.) “U-un fuego apretó… pues que?” [3] She broke down laughing, shaking her head as she wrapped her arms tight around Carlos, who blushed awkwardly at the same time as he tried in vain to glare down Mal and Jay’s smirks.

Finally, with the lamp switched off again and the four of them piled into bed, Evie curled her arm around Carlos’ waist, snuggled closer, and whispered so only he could hear, “Te amo, Pin Pon.” [4]

“Te amo, princesa…” [5]

[Spanish translations, notes, and my excuses a disclaimer under the cut.]

TRANSLATED TEXT (with the disclaimer that although I’m Mestizx/Latinx, it’s been a long, long time since I spoke Spanish fluently, so I apologize to any of my people who actually do speak Spanish if these translations are hot garbage lol).

[1] “As soon as the stars start to come out, Pin Pon goes to bed and goes to sleep. Pin Pon give me your hand with a strong grip, because I want to be your friend...” (Note: This is a Spanish lullaby, but the exact translation varies; the song is about a cute little cardboard doll named Pin Pon going about his day.)

[2] “Arepas los estela?” / “Arepas the wake?” (Note: This is intended to be a silly garble of words. Btw! Arepas are a traditional food that are pretty much a staple for Colombians. Don’t ever use tortilla as a synonym or I will die a little inside.)

[3] ““U-un fuego apretó… pues que?” / “A fire squeezed... so what?” (Note: Even more nonsense because Carlos is bad at Spanish and Evie is amused.)

[4] “Te amo, Pin Pon.” / “I love you, Pin Pon.” (Note: Evie’s jokingly using “Pin Pon” as a nickname for Carlos because the song starts out with the little doll washing his face with soap and water, which is something she always tried to make him do on the Isle since he always showed up with dirt on his cheeks from all his chores and tinkering and how long he’d have to go between baths.)

[5] “Te amo, princesa…” / “I love you, Princess.” (Note: They’re soft. The end.)

#inertiazz #<3 #descendants #descendants fanfiction #descendants headcanons #my headcanons #descendants drabbles #my drabbles #my fanfiction #my writing #carvie #carlos de vil #evie grimhilde #descendants fandom #okay I really need to work jdkajgdklsa #but I've been dying inside from not having time/energy to write #so I got this idea last night and I was like #fuck it! gonna sit down and write this #I don't have time to read it though so hopefully it's okay and no typos #I'm releasing it into the wild god luck bb drabble

[susiequaz12]

Carrot Top-  6: Howe

Alright, here it is! This one is arguably less whumpy, with a little comfort (cause heaven knows Andrew needs some comfort). I ended up splitting this in half with a different part that I’ll probs post soon cause it’s already edited. 

Some world background stuff that I’ll address again- There’s a genetically modified group of people called peculiari that are born with enhanced genetic abilities. There are four main groups: Shapeshifter, Superhuman, Nature Bender, and Mind Reader. Andrew is a shapeshifter. I introduce a Nature Bender briefly here, but that character will probs become kinda important later on. 

Tags: @imagination1reality0, @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi, and @thehopelessopus 

CW: medical references, needles (an iv), blood, throwing up, restraints, stitches, treating wounds, mention and descriptions of injuries.

- - -

Andrew woke up on fire. 

Every ounce of his body burned with each shifted breath and jostled movement. 

He quickly realized he couldn’t move very much though. His hands felt free, but at the attempt of pulling his knees to his chest, he realized his ankles were secured with straps, keeping him tied to a- a bed?

No, he thought. It wasn’t comfortable enough to be a bed, but not uncomfortable enough to be a table or cot of some sorts. It was somewhere in between, like, like a medical bed. One that you’d find in a hospital, or an examination room. 

The first few seconds he came into full consciousness were filled with panic. He didn’t know where he was, or where he had been. All that registered in his mind was pain. Red hot- searing and cold blue- aching, pain. 

A soft hand came atop his chest, pulling a blanket back over him that he didn’t know he’d knocked loose, shushing him gently, pushing him back down to the bed.

“Hey now, you’ve been through quite the ordeal, just breathe for me. You’re gonna be fine.”

Andrew’s eyes barely registered the man that the words were coming from. His vision swimmed in his head as the shapes and figures around him were fuzzy. Nothing clear, but not unidentifiable. An instant wave of relief washed over him as he realized the man wasn’t Splice. He was- a- a doctor.

Doctors are safe. 

Doctors are supposed to help people.

Maybe he’d been rescued, put in a hospital, and Ali and Justin were waiting outside until they could come in to visit. Yeah, that was it. This was all just a nightmare. 

But doctors don’t tie non-dangerous patients down to the bed.

So either he was in a real hospital, and they discovered his powers and thought he was dangerous, or he was still here. With Splice.

Andrew didn’t like either of those options.

The doctor grabbed his arm in a gentle hand, and as he pulled it away from him, Andrew noticed the IV, and the tubes and cables connecting him to various machines in the room. The man uncapped a vial and inserted an unfamiliar liquid into the IV, his eyes scanning the tube as the liquid slid through, and into his system. 

He placed his limb back onto the bed, and then a cautious arm wrapped underneath Andrew’s lower back, lifting him up and forward.

Andrew winced and groaned out at the pressure put on his back.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I just gotta redress these bandages. You can go back to sleep once I’m done. It won’t take long.”

The blanket fell around his lap and he looked down at his stomach, seeing rows and rows of white, medical bandages, blending in with his pale skin. His eyes then went to his wrists, where dark bruises were starting to form from where the restraints had dug into them for so long. He had no doubt that there were some to match on his ankles.

He didn’t even want to imagine what his body looked like underneath the bandages.

The doctor sat on a rolling stool by the bed and started to undress the bandages, carefully pulling away the blood-soaked fabric. As his hands brushed across the markings, Andrew couldn’t help the shiver that took his body. He expected more pain to come at the touch, but there was just a dull, thudding ache across his body. That thudding ache echoed behind his eyes from hours of crying, and straining to see without his glasses. 

After a few minutes the bandages laid in a pile on the floor to be scooped into the garbage can across the room. Andrew’s eyes glanced down. He saw the array of red, spattered amidst the white strips, and then his eyes traveled to his chest, where the blood originated. Oozing out of the cuts and slashes down his torso in a slow and steady crawl. If that wasn’t enough to set his stomach in motion, the bruises and the welts that crawled all over his chest and limbs surely would be.

The doctor quickly noticed the lurching that came from Andrew’s stomach, and rushed across the room to grab the garbage can before holding it underneath his head. However, there was nothing to throw up but more water and fluids. His body then decided to try and hack out his lungs as well. It was as if they were a poison, a toxin that his body needed to get rid of. He dry-heaved, tears streaming down his face as he couldn’t breathe, the sobs and coughs wracking through every limb as he choked and sputtered to try and get his body under control. 

The doctor kept a firm, but gentle hand on Andrew’s back, as he hacked his lungs out, before finally settling down to some slight wheezing. His body would’ve collapsed back into the bed if not for the hand holding him upright.

“You always throw up at the sight of blood, or was this just a special occasion?” 

Andrew wheezed out a reply, surprised at how raspy and broken his voice sounded. “No- only when it- when it’s mine.”

There was silence for a few minutes as the doctor scrambled around the cart of supplies, before pulling out a jar of what looked to be some sort of ointment or cream. He proceeded to clean the cuts and welts from the beating with a rag and disinfectant, before applying the ointment and wrapping him up again.

“My name’s Howe.” 

Andrew raised his head in a response, eyes glancing to the Doctor. He seemed young. Like he could be fresh out of college, not any older than 25.

He gestured towards himself with the bottle of cream in one hand, gloved fingers applying it with the other. “I’m a Nature bender. I deal with plants mostly. Natural remedies, ointments, as well as your regular medical stuff of course.” Andrew felt the cold ointment against his back, before the doctor- Howe- moved to his chest. The mixture was pale green, smelling vaguely of mint and some sort of forest. 

“This is my own recipe, I’m pretty proud of it. It’s meant to soothe, so it’s good for irritated skin or rashes, but it also prevents infection from entering the body, while helping the skin regrow and heal faster.”

“Wow.” Was all Andrew managed to breath out. It did feel incredibly relaxing. Soothing- like he was in a spa. He could take a whole bath in the stuff. 

Howe laid it on thicker where the whip had met his flesh, and where Splice had carved with his knife. His skin had been rubbed raw from the ropes, so by the time they had finished, nearly the whole bottle of cream had been used up.

“I tell you all this to ease your nerves.” Howe began to say. “So you know that I’m a real doctor. I graduated from medical school just a year ago before being…uhh- hired. I’m not just one of those people in a lab coat that Splice has to run his experiments and tests or whatever.” 

Before Andrew could ask any questions, he was laid back down and tucked underneath the blanket. 

“Now I just need to check that hand again, see how it’s doing and you’ll be good to go back to sleep okay?” 

Andrew nodded. He felt tired, the soothing ointment working through his body mixed with painkillers made him feel strangely relaxed.

Everything that happened instantly came back to him when Howe started to unwrap the bandages on his hand. Andrew tried to pull it back towards him, shield it close to his chest. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Howe stated, keeping a firm grip around Andrew’s wrist. “I just gotta check up on those stitches I gave you, make sure it’s all still clean and then I’ll bandage it right back up. Promise.”

As soon as the bandages fell away, Andrew’s eyes fell to his lap. He didn’t know if he wanted to look at it. If he even could look at it. 

He realized he hadn’t attempted to move the hand since it had happened. It had just hung there limp. So he was grateful when he felt the cold touch of Howe’s hand, as his fingers brushed gently across his palm and around his fingers. 

He caught a glimpse, and it thankfully didn’t look as bad as he thought. The wound was clean. The marking from the knife only marred by rows of stitches holding the skin closed tightly. It was raw, and red and irritated, but other than that, it didn’t look too terrible.

Andrew was scared to ask, but he needed to know. 

“Is- is it gonna be okay?” The doctor glanced up. “My- my hand. Is it gonna be okay?” 

Howe deflected the question, looking back down again.

“Do you feel this?” Howe trailed a finger up and down the side of Andrew’s thumb. The boy nodded. “Can you wiggle your finger for me?”

Andrew tried, but all he managed to do was get a slight twitch, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. The boy tried to slow down the panic that was rising in his chest. He tried to wiggle a finger again, but all he managed to do with his efforts was send new spikes of pain shooting through his hand. He hissed through his teeth, groaning from pain and frustration.

“Not yet.” Howe stated. “Give it some time to heal. It’ll be stiff for a long time, but if you work at it slowly, you should regain most of the normal function.”

“Most?” Howe released his hand back to him with the clean bandages, Andrew pulled it tightly to his chest. “What do you mean most? Wait…”

Howe pushed him back down onto the bed, placing the blanket over him. “You suffered pretty severe damage to the nerves, tendons, and blood vessels in your palm. I managed to reconnect as many as I could given the circumstances, but it’ll take a long time to heal. We won’t know how much function you will actually have until much later. For now, all you can do is rest.”

Andrew wanted to ask many, many more questions, but he was incredibly tired. Even being awake for just a few minutes had wore him down. His body sank into the bed, and right as he started drifting to unconsciousness, a familiar figure walked into the room.

“Hey carrot top!”

#whump #medical whump #treating wounds #oc #original writing #carrot top #stitches #bandaging wounds

[lettingmydreamsspeak]

The Heart Knows Best: Part V

Summary: Things are slowly coming together in the grand plan of reconnecting Y/N and Chris. Little do they know how things are about to change in their favor.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: approx. 2600

Author’s Note: Catch up with Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV here before checking out Part V! I hope you enjoy this one. 

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

You sat in the back of the town car as it slowly pulled up to the front door of the Park Central Hotel. After a long day of travel, you were glad to finally make it to your final destination. Upon realization of where you were staying, things slowly started kicking in that this wasn’t a dream, but this hotel was one place that you only dreamed of staying at. There were plenty of times in the past that you walked past this place, hoping to see someone famous walk out of the rotating doors, looking glamorous. You didn’t know that this would be your home for the next week, but you certainly weren’t going to complain. As you admired the hotel from the car window, the door quickly opened and a hand outstretched to help you exit the vehicle.

“We are here, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you Charles.” 

As you took his hand for assistance, you couldn’t help but wonder if this is what it what it always felt like for those who had personal drivers. You stood on the side walk, looking to your right. There was a clear view of Central Park. You were instantly taken back to the moment you met Chris. It seemed like months had passed since it happened, but really it was just a little over a week since that fateful morning. You were in enough of a daze that you didn’t even realize you stood in the middle of the busy sidewalk, filled with people who were rushing off to work.

“Miss Y/L/N, is everything okay?”

Thankfully Charles brought you back to reality, before some angry passerby would throw garbage at you, because you slowed down their perfectly timed out walking pace to get into the office at the exact moment the needed to be there.

“Oh, yes Charles. Everything is fine. I am just happy to be back. Thank you for your services this morning.”

“You’re welcome Miss. Now, should we go inside before you get run over?”

You smiled as he directed you towards the revolving door where you are greeted by a friendly smile.

“Welcome to the Park Central Hotel. You must be Miss Y/L/N. We have been awaiting your arrival. We hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

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

The drive into the city went quick for Chris and Scott. It gave them time to bounce some story ideas off of each other. It also gave them a chance to relive moments from their childhood, by blasting songs on the radio and singing along. They even had a good laugh when they realized they were singing some of the lyrics wrong. They loved being able to spend time like this with each other. In their adult life, they were always going in opposite directions, so when they had the chance to get out on the open road and make more memories together, they embraced it.

Chris navigated his way through Manhattan, as they encountered the end of the day rush hour. They found themselves at a standstill on West 59th Street. This street bordered the south end of Central Park, near the very spot along the pathway that Chris met Y/n on. It was the first time on the entire drive, that Chris had gone silent. He was reliving that morning again in his mind. Oddly enough, he even looked for Y/n, as if she was actually going to be there.

“Earth to Chris…the car in front of you is moving. Are you going to go?”

Vehicles behind him started honking their horns, encouraging him in a not so polite way to get going. He shook his head as he lightly pressed on the gas.

“Is everything okay? It’s like you spaced out for a moment”

“It’s because I did. All the memories of meeting Y/n started flooding back. I caught a glimpse of the spot where we met. A part of me wished that by chance when I looked over to the spot that she would be standing there, waiting for me.”

Scott patted him on the shoulder, consoling him for the wish that was unfulfilled in the moment. He felt bad for his brother, but he was really good at containing his excitement for what he knew was going to happen the next morning.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to have that kind of wish cross your mind. She must have been something special if you are still feeling this way about her Chris. There is nothing wrong with that.”

“You’re right. Now let’s focus on this meeting tomorrow, and maybe we can have a little fun when we are here. I don’t need to be back in Boston for a couple of days.”

“I like you’re thinking. I see that we are just about to arrive at the hotel. How about we drop our things off, freshen up, and go out for beer and food?”

“I can get behind that idea.”

As they pulled up to the front door of the hotel, Chris felt a sense of calm as he stepped out of the vehicle, putting his sunglasses on and turning his cap on the right way. He looked at the hotel and then looked to the right, where he could see Central Park. He smiled. In this moment he caused a bit of commotion with the passersby. Cellphone cameras snapped photos of him smiling. With not much in hand except a duffel bag, he quickly made his way to the entrance to pass off his keys to the valet and give a final wave to the few people who stood there in shock that they just saw him.

“Welcome to the Park Central Hotel, Mr. Evans. We have been awaiting your arrival. We hope you enjoy your stay with us”

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

You despised the early hours you kept seeing on the bedside table clock. It started at 5am, an hour that you really weren’t too familiar with. You hadn’t slept much the entire night. Luckily you had a couple more hours to try and catch up on the sleep time you missed. It wasn’t happening though. It seemed as if you saw every ten minutes pass by. You blamed it on a good blend of nervous energy and excitement. Leading up to your actual alarm going off, you made notes and questions on the hotel stationary to often goes unused. There were plenty of questions you figured you wanted to ask, even though you were going into this meeting without any prior knowledge of what the project entailed.

As 7 am finally arrived, you looked at your phone. Apparently you were not the only one that was up early. Evelyn had texted you at 5:30am to apologize that she couldn’t have breakfast with you as she promised, but would meet you at the front door of headquarters at 8:30am to give you a tour and show you your office for the week. Her cancellation of breakfast was welcomed news as you just wanted to take your time getting ready. Before starting your morning routine, a quick call to room service for the delivery of a hearty breakfast and a giant  cup of coffee was just what you needed to feel like a human again. As you hung up the phone from placing the order, you stood in front of an illuminated mirror. You examined every line and spot on your face. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, Y/n. Today is the day that you have dreamed about. You don’t have to underestimate your abilities anymore. Enjoy the moment and don’t forget to wow them.”

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

“I hope you don’t need much time to get ready?”

Scott was already dressed and ready to go as Chris just turned over for the first time, smelling the coffee that his brother placed on the bedside table.

“When do we need to leave?”

“Well, we should be somewhat early…so how about you just get up and get ready. I got breakfast and coffee for you. Other than that, it’s all up to you and us arriving to the meeting on time.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll get up! Next time, maybe we shouldn’t stay out late the night before an important meeting.”

“May I remind you, it’s because you are getting old.”

Hiding his head underneath the pillow, Chris was awake enough to give his brother the finger.

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

“Welcome Y/n!!!”

Evelyn greeted you at the door, just like she said she would. You arrived not one minute early or late. You wanted to demonstrate your punctuality, without being too eager on your first day at headquarters. Evelyn was genuinely excited to see you this morning, as she gave you a hug instead of shaking your hand. It felt a little odd to see her in person, as you were used to meeting with her over video conferencing.

“It is so great to be here Evelyn”

“I apologize again for missing breakfast with you this morning, but I had an urgent meeting come up with our office in London. Are you ready to see what it is like here at headquarters?”

You already knew that you would like this place a whole lot more than your office back in Vancouver. There was something about the overall atmosphere at headquarters. Even though you had only walk through the lobby of the building so far, creativity filled the space. As planned, Evelyn took you on a tour, introducing you to all the people you really needed to know while you were there. She even introduced you to some of the illustrators you admired for years. They welcomed you with words of admiration for your work. What a surreal moment. The two of you then reached your final stop before the meeting; your office.

“Now, if we need you here in Manhattan more often, I promise that your office will be a lot more nice than this.” 

Evelyn said this as she slowly opened the door into the space. Your jaw dropped. What was Evelyn talking about? The first thing that caught your eye was the floor to ceiling windows that lined one side of your office. The view was out towards Midtown Manhattan. You hadn’t really realized how far up in floors you went in the elevator, as you were caught up in conversation with Evelyn and her associates. You must have been on at least the 20th floor, maybe even more. You slowly walked into the office, letting you fingers trace the edge of the glass top desk and the all the supplies you needed to work on preliminary drawings, before transferring them to digital formatting.

“Evelyn, this is unbelievable. This is more than I would have ever imagined my office to be. Thank you.”

“I really hope it will suffice. If there is anything that you are missing, let Amy your office assistant know. She will be able to help you out. We have about 10 minutes before our meeting in the conference room at the end of the hall. I will leave you to it for a bit. I’m going to go and see if our clients are here yet, to escort them to the conference room.”

“Thank you again Evelyn. I will see you shortly.”

Evelyn exited the room and closed the door behind her. You stood there in shock. This was your life now. Well, it was for the week at least. You quickly grabbed your phone to take pictures to send to your family and Haley. Not even a minute later, Haley video called you.

“Hi Hales! I hope you don’t mind, but I can’t talk long.”

“It’s okay, I have to get ready for work anyway. I just wanted to say hi and that I love your new office. Does it seem a little surreal?”

“It sure does. I think I am in shock right now.”

“Are you about to head into your big meeting?”

“I am. Good news though, I am not nervous!”

“Oh good. So I’m thinking you don’t know who you are meeting with yet?”

“Sure don’t. Evelyn didn’t even talk about the meeting this morning. She must be feeling pretty confident about it and my ability to just go with the flow.”

“Well, I’m sure you will have a great meeting. Make sure you call or text me after it, okay?”

“I will! Love ya Hales!”

It was finally time to make your way to the boardroom. You placed your personal things away in the closet and grabbed a pen, paper, and sketchbook off your new desk and reached for the door handle. Before opening the door, you took a deep breath.

“You got this Y/n. You. Got. This.”

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

You sat beside Evelyn’s associates who were having their own conversation about other projects. You sat there trying to contain the nervous twitch you had in one leg, as you doodled on the sketchpad. You couldn’t sit still. Nerves finally kicked in, as you could hear Evelyn in the hallway chatting. There was laughter coming from their conversation. The laughter was calming, ultimately giving you the vibe that this client was going to be fun to work with. Staring out the window as your back was to the hallway door, you kept analyzing the voices and the banter they were having. You couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but they sure were taking their time to get to the boardroom. It’s as if they needed to stop every few steps. Was there something out there that you missed seeing because you were so focused on getting to the meeting and not being late?

Just then the door slowly opened. Not sure what to do, you quickly stood up like the associates did, with you head hanging down, hoping you could hide your nerves. How were you to greet this client? Was Evelyn going to introduce you, or was that up to you to be confident? You reminded yourself to do the most important thing you have learned through life, and that was to smile. Maybe following the lead of the associates was also a good idea, as they were used to this interaction. It sure seemed strange at how they clamored together though. You could see the top of someone’s head, peak into the board room.

“Sorry for the delay, everyone. He always wants to make sure that no one feels left out.”

Sure enough the associates laughed, and some giggled like little kids, after this comment was made. You recognized the voice, but couldn’t place it. The associates remained standing somewhat in a little cluster as the familiar voice returned to the hallway. Evelyn quickly came around to the head of the table. She motioned for you to both sit down. You kept an eye on Evelyn, just in case she had more direction for you. She smiled at you as a boisterous voice entered the room.

“Good morning everyone!”

Your heart stopped. You knew that voice. You slowly turned your chair so you could try and get a glimpse of who you thought it was. He made his way down the table, greeting each associate that stood there. You looked down at your feet as your heart started to race a little more, feeling like you could get ill. You then see his feet stop in front of you. You slowly stood up, without making eye contact just yet. You extend your hand and slowly raised your head. Evelyn spoke up.

“And this is your amazing illustrator…”

“Y/n…..” Chris stood there in shock as he held your hand. You were ready to faint as your whole entire body didn’t know how to react in the moment. You didn’t want him to let go, as you feared you would fall over. Was this real? Was he real? Scott proceeded to take a seat across the table from you, with the biggest smile on his face as he grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of the two of you seeing each other for the first time. 

Sure enough, the picture was sent to Haley with the caption... 

Operation Reconnection: Success!

...To be continued in Part VI

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #agirlcandream

[notyetneedcoffee]

No Secrets, Part 6

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (???)

Warnings: None in this section

You studied Steve’s smiling face on the screen. Even though the faint dimple on his left cheek showed, his eyes held... something... that held back his normal vibrant joy. Perhaps fatigue, you thought, noticing the rare hint of darkened skin and redness. Hair damp and wearing a tight gray tee, Steve looked to be freshly showered. You wanted to see him in person, not over a video feed.

"So,” You smiled. “How’d things go?”

“Fine. No issues.” He sighed, eyes going soft. “I miss you.”

“Miss you, too.” You chewed on your lower lip. “I suppose you heard about my spectacularly bad decision.”

He nodded, growing serious. “Lot of paperwork.”

“I'm sure.”

“Lot of worry, too.” He scolded.

“I know. I’m sorry.” You looked down to the tea in your hands. Sighing, you asked. “Any chance you may come visit me?”

A teasing grin pulled at his full lips. “Feeling lonely, Honey?”  

“Lonely. Stir crazy. Bored.” You rolled your eyes before smiling. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

“Good things, I hope.”

You wondered how much you could tease him. “Oh, good. Very good. So good some of it’s bad.”

He sighed your name, blushing slightly. “Don’t tease.”

“Who’s teasing?” You giggled.  

Steve grinned, but that ghost of something returned and the smile faded. “You said that because you could tell what I was thinking, that you would be completely honest. Regardless of how long this effect lasts, you and I will be honest with each other. No matter what. Even when it’s hard.”

“Yeah, Steve, I meant it.” You sighed, wishing you could reach through the screen and touch him. “What’s wrong?”

He stared off camera for a long while, out his window, like he was weighing his words. When he spoke, he did not look back at the screen. “If you never realized what I was thinking when I was around you, if this thing never happened, would you have become Buck’s gal if he’d asked?”

And there it is... you thought. They’d talked.

“Hypothetically?” You sighed. Steve still wasn’t looking at the computer. “If Bucky approached me... if he asked me out... if I felt like our friendship could grow into a romantic relationship... and if you were stupid enough not to say anything before any of that happened... then, yeah, probably.”

Steve frowned. “Would you have preferred...”

“Steve. Stop it.” You ordered. “Don’t circle around the hypothetical questions. I DO know how you feel. I’m happy I know, no matter how it came about. So, if you have a real question, please ask. Otherwise, let go of all the ‘could have’ and ‘would have’ and ‘what if’ worries. Please.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped. A frown creased his brow. “Sorry.” He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “I’m tired, not thinking straight.”

“I wish I was there.” You wanted to crawl onto his lap and hold him. He nodded again. “Are you home for a while?” Steve shook his head, suddenly looking tired. Disappointment flooded over you. “What?”

“I was going to call you when we first got in, but I ended up in, ah, conversation. Then I got pulled into a briefing. Sam, Bucky, and I are wheels up in just another hour.”  

“So, no visit?” You didn’t mean to whine, but did.

“Sorry, no visit, Honey.” Steve didn’t look happy about it either. “I’d much rather be there with you.” A sly smile spread. “Now that I’ve held you, kissed you... it’s all I can think about.”

“It’s a pretty good thought.” You smiled, kind of happy the conversation had gone full circle.  

“That it is.” He laughed, and it lit his eyes.

“When do you come home? I want to see you.”

“Hopefully within a week.” Steve leaned a little forward. “I’ve got to get ready to go. Be safe, and please don’t go wondering into town.”

A harsh buzz pulled you from a dead sleep. Sitting straight up, you grabbed your phone on instinct. Natasha was calling you at 3:16 am. She hadn’t called since you left the compound. You croaked. “Yeah, yeah, I’m up.”

“The boys got hit hard. Took Thor and code green to get them out. Quinjet is forty minutes out.” Her voice was quiet, calm and clipped.  

“Their status?” You swallowed.

“Wilson is going to need surgery. Barnes and Cap both took multiple shots. We got the blood loss under control, so they’ll heal up.”

Closing your eyes, you pulled your knees up to your chest. “I appreciate the situation report.”

“Not calling to give you a sit-rep.” He voice quieted. “You should get your ass to the med lab.”

“Thought you and Tony didn’t want me in your head.”  

“Not planning on being there,” She huffed a little. “And Tony can do whatever the hell he wants. Everyone else on the team was part of the rescue. You should at least have the chance to be there when we bring them in.”

“Thanks, Nat.” You jumped off the bed. “Forty minutes?”

“Thirty-seven.” She cut the connection.  

The early hour meant the drive back to the compound went by uneventfully. The minimal staff at the compound made moving through the halls easier, too.  The doctor and three nurses met you at the med wing entrance.

‘Better not disrupt my med bay.’ The doctor extended a hand. “We were told you’d be here. Take up a place over there. The trauma team is bringing them up now. Stay out of the way until one of us say you can come up.”

The trauma team came through the doors in a rush with Sam on the gurney. A blood-soaked dressing was tied just above his hip and two IVs hung from poles on the gurney.  They went by in a blur and straight into the operating suite.  

Two more medics pushed in a gurney with Steve on it. Dirt and blood covered his body. His suit appeared shredded, bloody wounds showing beneath. His head lolled to the side, eyes barely open. He saw you and his mouth opened as if to speak. They pushed him through a set of double doors before he could.  

‘Oh, Honey, thank God you’re here. You’re here. Love you.’

They pushed Bucky pass you. His unconscious form a shock. Someone had torn his body armor off and cut away the cloth from his right thigh. One of the medics held a large dressing against it. ‘Got get his volume up. He’s lost too much blood. Had to have hit the femoral.’  

‘No. No, drugs!’ Steve’s thoughts came through clear as a shout. ‘Got to get up! Where’s Buck! Where’s Sam!’

You pushed into Steve’s room. One nurse was stitching up a wound under his collar bone, the other stood aside with a syringe. “If he doesn’t want the pain killer, then don’t give it to him.” You snapped. “Unless you’re going to help patch him up, then why don’t you go get a status on the others. That will calm him down faster than anything.”

‘Whatever.’ She left the room.  

You rushed forward and kissed his chapped lips. He sighed. ‘Love.’

“Where are you hurt?" You whispered, resting your forehead against his temple. 

“Through and though of the upper chest, left bicep, a graze on the left shoulder.” The nurse listed off, without rushing. “Broken tib-fib, but they set it on the jet so it’ll mend without intervention.” She sighed. “Cap, you need food and lots of water. Let me set you up with a bag of IV ringers at least. No reason to feel like garbage while you’re heeling up.”

He nodded. She pulled out the kit. “When I’m done, I’ll check on Sam. They were taking him to surgery.”

“Thanks.” He muttered. Squeezing your fingers, he watched her slip the needle in. ‘Ugh. Hate that.’

You smiled to yourself. He could take a 9mm bullet but grumbled at needles. The nurse moved with quick efficient certainty and left. You kissed him again. He hummed. ‘Love you. Love you so much.’

“I love you, too.” You whispered against his lips.

‘Yes, thank God.’ Steve gave you a weary smile that faded as soon as the door opened and the first nurse entered.

“Sergeant Barnes is unconscious, although they’ve stopped all the bleeding and have scanned for any internal issues.”

Steve groaned, trying to sit up. You put your hand on his shoulder. “Steve, stay put.”

“No.” Steve growled out. ‘Not letting him wake up without knowing someone there.’

“You can’t walk on that leg. Not yet.” The nurse bit out.

“Then bring a chair.” You helped him swing his legs over. “Now!”  

The other nurse who seemed to know Steve came in with the chair. Either she heard or just understood his stubbornness. “Wilson will be in surgery for at least another couple hours, but he’ll be fine. Doc just wants to make sure he has a full recovery.”

“Thanks, Kim.” Steve pivoted on one foot and dropped into the chair. ‘Thank god. Now get the hell out of the way.’

You wheeled Steve into the adjacent room. Bucky lay on the bed, stripped down. Still covered in dirt and blood, but great swipes of antiseptic circled the multiple wounds. The jagged wound across his thigh looked ugly and vicious. “What caused that?”

“Flying piece of metal. It was an old mill. I think it was from an industrial saw.” Steve said through clenched teeth. ‘Should have known better. Dammit. We should not have gone in.’

“Don’t, Steve.” You squeezed his hand. “He’ll be okay.”

One of the male nurses came in to check the readings and change Bucky’s IV bag. He and Steve exchanged pleasantries. Something startled Bucky awake. His hand came up striking the nurse across the room. He jumped up, only to have his leg collapse under him. Equipment crashed to the ground as you rushed toward him.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted, standing but not moving.

Buck’s eyes were huge, unfocused. You knelt before him, eye to eye. “Bucky! Buck, you’re safe. Sweetie. You’re safe.”

‘No! Get out! No! Fuck! Doll? Thank god.’ Bucky’s hands grabbed you roughly, pulling you forward, pulling onto his lap despite his wounds. His arms wrapped around you, face burying in your throat. ‘Breathe. Breathe.’

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” You ran your hands through his tangled hair. “You’re home. You’re okay.”

Bucky rocked you, forcing himself to breathe, otherwise calm.

‘Never seen anyone else do that. Never seen anyone else pull him from the edge so fast.’

You looked over your shoulder at Steve, tears in your eyes from the release of terror flowing off Bucky. Fingers rubbed along his scalp as you made quiet shushing noises. Bucky took a deep breath and coughed. He still breathed you in like you were the source of all oxygen. “Doll, dammit. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”  

“No,” You sniffed. “But you may owe Jimmy an apology.”  

“Stevie?”

“Right here.” Steve spoke, voice think. “Sam’s in surgery.”

Bucky’s head came up. The two men stared at each other over your shoulder.  

‘Know you love her, pal. Please, please, don’t make me give this up. She feels safe.’

‘You love her so much. I see it. It’s okay. It’s not the same. I get it.’

You pressed you tear wet cheek against Bucky’s hair. “Let’s get you up, Buck. I’m not doing your wounds any good leaning on them like this. You need fluids, baby, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

He nodded. It was awkward and you strained to help him onto the bed again, but he didn’t argue. The nurse from Steve’s room, Kim, was back. You stayed by his side until she started the IV. She covered him with a blanket. “Lie here until you get two of those bags in you, then I’ll make sure you get moved back to your quarters to recoup. Okay, Bucky?”

“Yeah, I’ll be a good boy.” Buck tried to smile weakly.  

“Same goes for you, Cap.” She turned to where he sat.  

He gave her a smile. “Sound good.” Then Steve’s eyes locked on yours. ‘Want to go home with you.’  

You gave him a small nod even though your hand still ran through Bucky’s hair.  

A/N: Just one part left!

TAGS:

@asiaaisa77 / @babygurl8840 / @badassbaker / @bangtan-serendipity / @beautifullungs / @buchanansebba / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @dsakita / @geeksareunique / @imma-new-soul / @jennmurawski13 / @jesseswartzwelder / @kiki5283 / @lbouvet / @michelehansel / @sebbuckylove / @morganhoran1671 / @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines / @notyourtypicalrose / @nova3312 / @patzammit​ / @rainbowkisses31 / @readermia / @rynabarnesrogers / @sammghgecko / @scarlettsoldier / @sebbysstangirl / @sexyvixen7 / @sllooney / @thegetawaywriter / @theneuropsychwriter / @the-omni-princess / @the-reading-octopus / @thorfanficwriter / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @vanillabunn21 / @vxidnik / @what-is-your-plan-today / @wildmoonflower / @wwe-fanfiction-queen / @sassy89sworld / @bitchwhytho / @carinacassiopeiae / @jessyballet / @killcomet / @steve-rogers-is-a-saint / @phoenixwench  

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fan fiction

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .epilogue iv.

monday night

masterlist

Warnings: dub con sex (oral, intercourse)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader has a late night.

Note: #ficdaddy #afterworkwriting #naughtythoughts #whatamidoing? Okay, so here’s more but might be a little break til the next because I’m exhausted and I’m thirsty but ya girl is also a disaster. Thanks everyone for your support and indulgence in my #pornfic lol🔥🔥🔥 I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply!

...

By the time you got off the subway, your fatigue had washed away your shock. The whole ride home, you felt him. Felt the afterglow slake away and the ghost of his touch. You swore it was a dream. A very vivid fantasy but you just wouldn't wake up.

You walked the block from the stop to your building with your hands tucked deep in your pockets. The city was overdue for snow. You shivered as your boots scuffed the pavement and you stopped dead just in front of the steps. There was a familiar car across the street. A rover, to be exact.

The horn tooted as your eye narrowed on the tinted window and the door opened. Steve stepped out and waved as he looked both ways down the street. You winced and tried to hide your anxiety. You were a terrible liar, worse with him. He saw through you like a window.

What was even doing here? You’d told him you were busy. How long had he been waiting? You sighed and dropped your shoulders.

“Hey,” You greeted him stiffly. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t help myself,” He reached out with a gloved hand and rubbed your arm. The gesture reminded you of Bucky. You gulped. “Tell me you’re not planning on turning in already?”

“I was planning on cramming for my exam,” You countered. “Not much sleep to be had these days.”

“I can help,” He smirked, “Keep you on task.”

“Really?” You challenged with a scoff. “I think I’m better off alone.”

“I swear,” His breath clouded in the frigid evening. “Come on, you can’t leave me out in the cold.”

“You really wanna hang around and watch me study?” You asked.

“Help,” He corrected you. “Come on, years of helping with homework has prepped me for this very night.”

“Alright, if only to get out of the cold.” You relented and dug for your keys. “I hope you don’t mind clutter. My apartment is...small.”

You led him to the front door. He was close enough that his warmth radiated over you. He climbed the stairs after you and you were out of breath by the time you got to your floor. He wasn’t. How pathetic you were. After a struggle with the janky lock, your door jolted inward and you welcomed him into your college nest.

“I know you don’t like coffee, but I can make you a tea?” You set down your bag as he closed your door. “I, uh, just toss my coat on that chair.” You laughed at yourself as you unbuttoned your jacket. 

“You know what, I could use a coffee,” He removed his coat and folded it over the patched armchair. 

You placed your jacket on his and pulled your boots off. “I was just gonna have some leftover pizza. Want a slice?”

“As gracious a host as you are a guest,” He looked around the small space. “Make your coffee. Get your books out. Tell me what you want. I’ll order in.”

“You really don’t have--”

“Ah,” He raised a hand as he pulled out his phone. “You have studying to do. Let me worry about dinner.”

You agreed with a nod and went about setting up the coffee to brew and dumped your text and notebook on the bed. Steve went through the options and you settled on Chinese as you poured milk into your mug and set it on the table beside your bed. You sat at the top of the mattress and opened your textbook.

He ordered and sat across from you. He pulled your notebook over and flipped it open. “What course is this?”

“Public discourse and Social Trends. Third tab.” You instructed and squinted at him. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” He folded the notebook back and his eyes glossed across your writing. “Put that down. Quick review. Then you’ll know what you need to work on.”

You tilted your head and pursed your lips at him. “You should be in your hotel, enjoying the view, or the pay-per-views, or the minibar. You shouldn’t be in this hole helping me revise all this...garbage.”

“I am right where I want to be, sweetie,” He intoned. “Now stop stalling.”

-

It was just past midnight. You’d gone through all your notes and the cartons of fried noodles and sweet and sour chicken. Two cups of coffee as well. You sat with legs crossed as Steve reclined across the bed and closed your notebook. He yawned and tossed it atop your textbook. You leaned back on your pillows, his yawn was contagious.

“Alright, you’re free.” You said. “I feel...better.”

“Better? You got this.” He replied.

“I hope.” You muttered.

“Ugh, haven’t had a night like this since...since me and Bucky were in college.” He grinned. “Did you know we went to the same uni? I was in business, he was in Lit. That was his first degree, my last. He always was a do-gooder.”

You nodded. You picked at the corner of your textbook and kept your eyes to the bedspread. You could feel him staring at you. Shyly, you glanced up as the heat grew unbearable. “What?”

“I meant what I said...about Bucky.” He lifted a brow. “Would do him well to loosen up. You too.”

You swallowed and clenched your jaw. You chewed your lip, unsure how to divert the conversation. “I don’t…”

“Wait,” He sat up and the mattress shook beneath him. “You...already did it?” You looked at him, “That was your appointment?”

“Steve, I--”

“Oh, sweetie, that’s...wow. You see, you should enjoy yourself.” He reached over and squeezed your knee. His hand lingered. “Explore.”

“I wasn’t thinking. It happened so fast. I-I-I…” You huffed and hung your head. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t do that.” His hand crawled up your thigh as he moved closer. He pushed your books aside and sat next to you. “I’m proud, sweetie.”

“Proud?” You said confused. “For fucking my professor.”

“For being you.” He leaned in. “Tell me,” He kissed you and wrapped his arm around you as he pulled you close. “How did you do it? Were you on top? Was he?”

“Steve,” You warned and tried to wriggle away. “Really.”

“I wanna hear,” He purred. “Come on, tell me.”

You licked your lips and thought. You shook your head at your helplessness. You knew he wouldn’t let up. 

“We were in his office,” You started quietly. “I...kissed him.” You cringed as you recounted the scene. “I shouldn’t have but...uh, he kissed me back...Steve, I can’t…”

“Go on. You’re doing fine,” He urged as his fingers traced the line of your vee. 

“I was on the desk first and he...used his fingers.”

“Did you cum?” He rubbed just along the top of your thigh.

“Yes,” Your voice was raspy as your lip trembled. “Then he turned me around and--” Your lips moved but no words would come.

“He fucked you against his desk? Oh, Professor Barnes,” He mused as he picked your fly open. “How unprofessional.”

“I…”

“Did you cum again? While he was in you?” He asked. You nodded as he slipped his fingers beneath your jeans. “No panties?”

You closed your eyes as his fingers hovered just above your clit. “He came in them. I had too take them off.”

“Fuck,” He breathed. “That’s fucking hot.”

“It’s...I could lose my scholarship...he could lose his job.” You gasped as he flicked his fingertip over your bud.

“He has tenure and who’s gonna know? I’m not telling anyone,” He pressed his lips to your cheeks and rubbed you with his finger. Slow, tantalizing; enough that your thighs began to tingle. “It was nice, wasn’t it? The rush? Up in his office like that?”

“Y-y-yes.” You confessed.

“Like the summer? Kylie just down the hall...asleep. We could’ve been caught so easily,” The glimmer of guilt at the reminder was muted by the lurid thrill. “Oh, sweetie, you’re so wet already. Is it for me or him?”

You bit your lip and breathed through your nose. You shook your head. He stopped and you looked to him sharply.

“Tell me.” He demanded. 

“Y-y-you…” You blurted out. “...and him.”

“Tell me what else you want him to do? How do you want him to fuck you?” He tickled your cheek with his nose as he inhaled your scent.

His finger began to moved again and your eyes threatened to roll back. Your thoughts blurred together and the last of your willpower drifted away. Your lip quivered and your voice rose in gasps.

“I want his mouth on me. To feel his beard against my thighs.” You grabbed his wrist as the sparks flew and bounced around your core. “To drink me up until I cum.” Your voice thinned. “I want him to push my legs up and fuck me until I scream. I want him to be rough with me. To not stop even when I beg--” Your breath caught as the coil wound tight. “--when I beg him to--STOP!”

You slipped from his embrace and pushed yourself back against the pillows. Your thighs squeezed his hand and as you lifted your pelvis and came loudly. You shook as you dove over the edge and plummeted to the depths with a shout. Your hand rested on his as he stilled his fingers.

“Can I fuck you, sweetie? Like that?” He slowly pulled his hand from your jeans.

You nodded frantically and caught his hand. “Please,” You panted. “I want you. Not him. I want you right now, Steve.”

He smirked and bent over you to kiss you. He drew his hand away from yours and as he sat back he ran his fingers along your lips. You opened them and he shoved them inside. You tasted yourself on him and sucked on them with a hum. His eyes darkened at your reaction.

“Anything you want, sweetie.” 

He pulled his fingers away and climbed off the bed. His pants were tented with his arousal. You shoved your jeans down your legs and your socks caught in the bottom as you tore them off. You took your sweater off next and unhooked your ratty bra. You really needed a new one. You looked over as he rolled his briefs down his thighs. You liked to think none of the guys your age looked as good.

“Lay down,” He pointed to the pillow. “And don’t you move.” You laid back and he got back on the bed. “Bend your legs. Yeah, like that, now, apart. Very good.” He knelt between them and his eyes shone down at your pussy. “God, you look just as good as you taste, sweetie.

He bent and he slowly ran his tongue over your clit and along your folds. You gasped and reached down to touch his greying locks. He shoved your hand away and growled. You kept your hands on your chest, cupped your tits as you watched the top of his head, His tongue flitted up and down, each time faster, and he swirled around your bud so that your hips bucked.

You began to mewl. You sounded animalistic. Your legs closed around his head and his hands spread across the back of your thighs. He pushed your legs up until your knees were almost to your chest. He kneaded the flesh and purred as he lapped you up. You arched your back as he plucked at your deepest strings.

“S-Steveee.” You came with a drawn out moan. His name floated above you and he tended to you until you were breathless.

Slowly he lifted his head. You looked down at him as he deliberately licked his lips. He kept hold of your thighs as he got to his knees and positioned himself against you. His cock slid between your folds and along your clit. You shivered and reached out to him.

“Ah, keep those hands to yourself, sweetie,” He tilted his hips back until his cock poked at your entrance. 

His eyes fell between your legs and he watched as he impaled you an inch at a time. He pushed his shoulders back and sighed as he reached his limit. Your walls clung to him; longed for him. He pushed your legs until your knees were against your chest entirely. He rocked into you once and you squealed.

He did it again. A similar reaction. He thrust, each time waiting for your response. You got louder and louder as he sped up. Delving deeper and harder. His flesh clapped against yours between your cries and a bang came at the wall, warning you to quiet. But you couldn’t.

You stretched your arms out and grasped at the blanket. He snarled as he pounded into you. He had never been like this. Always decisive, but never rough. Never this carnal. This incensed. You bunched the bedspread in your fingers and keened as another orgasm tore through you.

You quaked as he didn’t waver. He had you pinned to the mattress, helpless. Not that you could’ve have pushed him away if you wanted to. His thick muscles bulged beneath his skin as he thrust into you. He didn’t fuck like an old man. At least, you assumed most men his age weren’t so ferocious.

It wasn’t long before you came again. The banging on the wall stopped. They’d given up. He had your ass off the bed, your back curled as he pounded into you. He found your clit and teased you as he drew forth yet another orgasm. You were dazed.

“Steve...Steve...please, no more, I c-can’t.” He slammed into you and chuckled.

Your words turned to murmurs. Pure gibberish as he ignored you and carried on. He grunted and his motioned stuttered. He bared his teeth and growled as he pulled out. He kept hold of one leg as he stroked himself with the other. He came all over you, the warmth seeped between your folds and along your ass.

Slowly he sat back and let your legs splay around him. You were both out of breath. You felt around blindly, felt his cum all over you as you spread it around.

He climbed over your leg and fell down beside you, out of breath. He smiled and closed his eyes as he caught his breath. You rubbed your forehead as your wits reassembled. What a long day. Both of them in less than. How had you gotten tied up in all this?

“Steve,” You ventured and he opened his eyes.

“Yes, sweetie,” He turned his head to look at you.

“Why are we doing this?” You asked weakly.

“I…” He clamped his lips shut and thought. “Well, I’ve done the right thing; got married, had a family, white picket fence. It’s boring. Fake. I don’t want fake. You get to my age and you realize there really isn’t any harm in doing what you want instead of what others expect of you.”

“Oh,” You considered his words carefully. “Have you done this before?”

“What do you mean? Have I fucked any of Kylie’s other friends? Of course not. Never even fucked anyone more than a couple years younger than me. Didn’t have the time, or the energy.”

You nodded and stared at the ceiling. Afraid to ask your next question. “Why me?”

“I...At first, I just thought you were cute. I don’t know what made me kiss you in that hot tub, or why I even invited you, but I knew that night, I needed you.” He traced circles along your stomach. “And you needed me. To show you before it’s too late that it’s okay to be more than cookie cutter.”

His words reeled in your head. You were surprised; that you asked; even more that he answered. And he sounded honest. And if he wasn’t being earnest, you’d learn another lesson from all this. 

All you could do was enjoy it while it lasted.

#dad!steve rogers x reader #professor!bucky barnes #dad!steve rogers #stever rogers #Bucky Barnes #fic #Steve Rogers #i don't really know how dark this is anymore lol #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #au #marvel #series #kiss me in the d-a-r-k #captain america

[doing-all-write]

don’t be a baby part 2

Pairing: Billy x Fem!Reader

Summary: After losing Billy, Reader doesn’t know what to do with herself. After receiving some news about a millionaire who’s been murdering people, she convinces Billy’s old Sky Walker crew to train her so she can take him down. But the mission doesn’t go as planned and suddenly, there’s a man offering her a position on an elite team...

Read part 1 HERE

Word Count: 14K

Warnings: Swearing, blood, fight sequences, needles, mentions of smut and talk of depression. 

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY AND HERE IT IS!!! Part two of don’t be a baby!! Thank you all so so much for your patience, I wanted to be sure this story was perfect and I hope all love it! Once again, a HUGE thank you to @itsabenthing​ who is always a wonderful source of inspiration and helps to keep me on track and to @mrhoemazzello​ for hyping me up at all times and for letting me bounce ideas off her!! And don’t worry...there will be a third part 😉

💖💖As always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 💖💖

365 days.

That's not a long time.

A year on Neptune is the equivalent of 164 years on Earth. Bowhead whales can live up to 200 years. The Methuselah tree is 4,700 years old.

365 days is nothing.

What's one lousy year in the grand scheme of things?

Compared to one day.

24 hours to have your whole world ripped out from underneath you. To believe that up is down and down is up. To feel your feet leave the earth as you pitch forward into a tunnel where time passes both far too quickly and not quickly enough.

One 30 second phone call can feel like the longest thing in the world.

To some, 365 days may not feel all that long, but to others?

365 days is far too long.

~One Month After the Funeral~

“(Y/N)? It’s me. You doing okay?” Mark winced when he realized how dumb that question was. 

Setting the bags of food down on the kitchen table, he opened the fridge. His heart clenched when he saw the food he had put there a week ago sitting untouched. 

It had been the worst right after the funeral. When he came over on the days following the funeral she would be in the same clothes he had last seen her in, staring at the wall or ceiling. On good days her cheeks would be dry, on bad days? The tears would soak her pillow case. 

He had nicked Mary, Billy’s sister’s, number from (Y/N)’s phone. Figuring that Mary may have some professional resources she could recommend to get (Y/N) the help she desperately needed to pick herself back up. 

After a few weeks of her catatonic state, she started moving more. But it was almost worse. She was like a zombie. 

He’d tell her maybe she should shower or eat and in slow robotic movements she’d do what he asked, then crawl back into bed. Eyes empty. Flat. 

The passivity broke his heart. 

There hadn’t been a time when Mark and (Y/N) had been growing up when she wasn’t passionate about something. When that familiar light in her eyes had burned bright. 

Without it, it felt like looking at a mannequin of his sister. 

Sighing, he loaded the new food into her fridge. Taking the old stuff out he figured, if it wasn’t moldy, he could feed it to Jean, who was like a human garbage disposal. He claimed grief made him starving. 

As Mark stood up, he faced the bedroom door and felt his shoulders slump forward. He knew what was waiting for him on the other side and he didn’t want to see it. He knew he was a coward but part of him just wanted to walk out the front door and pretend that his sister was on the other side, totally fine, she was just sleeping and he’d come back next week and she’d greet him with a smile and a hug. 

Something he hadn’t seen in, well, in a month. 

Feeling his shoulders creep up towards his ears as he stood outside her bedroom door, he made a conscious effort to relax them. 

“Hey, (Y/N), you awake?” 

Nudging the door open, he peered into her room, taking stock of it. It looked exactly the same as last time he had checked on her. The soft rise and fall of her side underneath her blanket the only movement. Taking a moment to capture how serene she looked, he quietly closed the door behind him, taking a minute to send up a plea that he would do anything, anything, for his sister if it just meant that one day he’d see her up and out of her bed. 

~

A buzzing by her ear woke her up. Groaning, she slapped her hand around the bed, trying in vain to stay semi-unconscious. The buzzing came faster, one right after the other, reminding her of how her phone had acted the day Billy’d died. Heart dropping through the floorboards, her eyes flew open.

Sitting up and shoving the blankets back in one quick motion only caused her to hear a loud thud. Cursing, she crawled over to the edge, allowing her top half to go limp as her bottom half stayed put on her bed. 

Pushing her hair back with one hand she turned her phone over to see what was happening. News alert after news alert was scrolling in. They all said the same thing, 

Local Billionaire Accused of Dumping Toxic Waste in Ocean. 

Her eyebrows knitted together as she read the remainder of the story. There was something tugging at her subconscious as she read. This billionaire, Chase Casewell, had a reputation for being a real prick and after using his family's money to get through business school and have his first idea fail (an app that told Influencers when the best time to post would be) he had made his millions by starting a brand that specialized in shoes, ugly beige monstrosities if she remembered correctly. 

It had just come out that he had instructed the plants that made his shoes to dump the waste into the ocean. The chemicals they’d used had poisoned the water supply, causing the fish to become infected with the chemicals. Then, the local fisherman would catch the fish, take them home to their families, eat them, then the fishermen and their families would end up in the hospital. 

Her hospital.

She sat bolt upright as she remembered the string of mysterious illnesses that had ended up in her ward a few weeks before she had met Billy that first time. If the victims were lucky, they ended up puking their guts out for a few days and, after being hooked up to an IV to re-hydrate, she’d send them on their way.

Others would linger for a few days then quietly slip away. The chemicals flowing through their bloodstream till their veins ran thick with poison, where it finally creeped up to their heart where the poisons would wrap themselves around their most vital organ. Suffocating it until it gave out entirely. 

The one that had affected her the most was Isabella, a small girl with dark braids and a love of Frozen. The only thing that’d make her smile was when (Y/N) would come in with a stuffed Olaf and have him ask her for a warm hug. She had been holding this little girl's hand, watching Frozen when her heart just...gave out. 

She had gone to the funeral but shame and guilt burned bright inside till she felt like there was a beacon surrounding her, letting everyone at the funeral know it was her fault that Isabella had passed away. 

As the pieces clicked together in her mind she felt an inferno roar to life inside her. It burned away the sadness and despair she’d been wallowing in ever since Billy left only to leave behind rage and guilt. The emotions boiled in her stomach, bile climbing up her throat as she stumbled to the bathroom

Collapsing over the toilet, heaving and retching, she knew nothing was coming up but her body worked overtime to expunge the horror she felt in any way it could. Her body spasming as waves of emotions crashed through her system. 

Several minutes passed till she finally felt the nausea start to ebb. Slumping against the wall, she hung her head over the toilet as she took steadying breaths, making sure that her body wasn’t going to rebel again. 

When she lifted her head, she had made a decision. 

~

"Alrigh', alrigh' I'm coming. Quite your bloody knocking you crazy-"

Jean's rant was cut short when he saw (Y/N) on the other side of the door decked out in black athletic gear, hair pulled back in a tight braid. Jean's eyes widened as he made contact with her own eyes. A fire could get started with the steely glint that was reflected back at him. 

"I need you to train me." 

"T-train you?" Jean's hands were instantly coated in sweat as he contemplated what she was talking about. 

"Yes. Like how you trained Billy and Mark. Train me to be a Sky Walker. I can do this." 

Jean rubbed a hand down his face, "(Y/N)...it's late. Maybe we should sleep on this-"

"NO." That one word leapt from her throat in a growl, causing Jean to step back, half shutting the door. Slamming her hand against the door she switched tactics, "Please Jean. There's this prick who's dumping toxic waste into the ocean. So many people were sick and at my hospital because of him." Swallowing thickly, her eyes grew unfocused, "They died...under my watch." 

Jean's shoulders slumped at that admission. With Billy’s death overshadowing everything, he forgot that in her line of work she saw more sickness and death than even he had seen.

But this was the first time since the funeral that he had seen her up and moving. It was the first time that her eyes held any sort of emotion. He couldn’t bear to be the one that extinguished it. He couldn’t do that to her. Or to Mark. 

Heaving a sigh he flung his hands up, "Fine. We start in the morning,” Her eyes widened and a small smile crept across her face as she stepped forward into his apartment until he held a hand out to stop her, “Now let me go back to sleep so I don't pass out on you mid training session and we both die." 

~Three Months After the Funeral~

Are you ready for it? 

The bass thumped through her headphones, as her fists made contact with the punching bag in front of her in time to the beat. Staying light on her toes, she bounded back and forth, jabbing, punching, upper cutting, swaying in and out as she danced around the bag. 

She had been here for hours. The 24-hour gym had cleared out earlier, now it was just her and other people who couldn't sleep or worked weird hours.

As the last line of the song faded she put her hands on her hips, pacing over to her backpack. 

Rooting through it, she located her water bottle, taking long pulls from it as her heart beat slowed down. 

Boxing had been one of the only things that was able to take her mind off of, well, everything. 

That and running. Everyone and their mother had told her to try yoga after they’d heard what happened, telling her it would help to "quiet her mind" but the more time she spent sitting still, the more she could feel Billy's hand slipping from hers as he walked out of her apartment for the last time. 

She gave it up when a panic attack had taken over her system in downward dog. 

Activities that let her be alone, that let her get her aggression out, were the most beneficial. 

Plus, it helped with the Sky Walker training she’d been receiving from Mark and Jean.

After she’d shown up at Jean’s door that night, she arrived on his doorstep bright and early the next morning, knowing that she’d have to knock extra loud to make sure Jean actually woke up. Which is why it shocked her that before she could even knock on the door, Jean had swung it open to reveal him and Mark standing in front of her, looking for all the world like two parents ready to scold their child for staying out past curfew. 

Smirking she shrugged, “Sorry I missed curfew.”

Mark’s mouth twitched and she knew that, with him at least, she was off the hook. 

They had sat her down, gone over basic safety information, how they practiced moves on the ground first so they could get comfortable executing them and then took them up into the air. 

Mark’s heart broke at how alert and interested she was. It was the first time in months he saw her engage with others and it killed him that this was what it was taking to bring her back from the brink. 

Ever since then, she had been training with them to prepare for this mission, to learn the necessary skills she’d need to break in, to keep herself alive. She had convinced Mark and Jean that the plan she had for Chase was a one-woman job. She told them that if she couldn’t pick up on everything in six months then she would let one of them help her on this mission. 

But she knew she wouldn’t need their help. When Mark and Jean taught her how to fight, how to dodge opponents, how to protect herself in a fight, her Nurse Brain kicked into high gear.  

When they’d break down certain tricks she was able to picture the exact muscles, ligaments and bones that would need to be strengthened, how they would need to move to be able to complete the move perfectly. 

She was even able to break down fight sequences just from observing her opponents moves. Looking at how certain muscles tensed, what foot they’d lead with, how their fist was turned, it all helped her get the upper hand in any fight. 

Knowing pressure points and which joints were the weakest were an added benefit during these training sessions. 

(After she almost dislocated Jean’s knee, he had limped away, bellowing about how she needed to seriously remember who the enemy was and it “bloody well isn’t me! I like the ocean! I’ve never even been to Sea World, that’s how much I like the ocean!” 

 All of it added up to her progressing in her training more rapidly than Mark or Jean felt comfortable with.

They couldn’t help being impressed though. She was mastering moves that had taken them years to nail down. But she took to it with a single-minded determinism that worried them, especially Jean. 

Training was all (Y/N) cared or wanted to talk about. Mark told him that she’d started working out at all hours. Lifting, running and boxing being the newest activity she had added to her repertoire and while he felt it was a smart move, he couldn’t help but be worried. Every time she was training, he’d seen a fatalistic look in her eyes. It was a look he was all too familiar with, it was a common look in Sky Walkers. But those individuals were always the highest risk cases.

Those were the Sky Walkers who didn't value their own safety. They kept pushing and pushing until mortality pushed back and said, You want to keep going? Fine. You pushed too far and now I'm going to punish you. 

The worst part was, in his experience, there was no use trying to tell those individuals to slow down. They inevitably sped up to spite the person who told them to slow down. Jean didn't want Mark to lose his sister too. 

After a particularly intense training session, he hesitantly brought it up to Mark who only snorted, 

"I already lost her."

"What do you mean?"

Mark shot him an incredulous stare, "You're kidding right? You've seen how much she's changed since Billy left. That's not my sister. I still hope like hell (Y/N)'s underneath this new exterior but...I don't know who this new woman is. And frankly, I don’t want to know who she is.”

She hadn’t told Mark but she’d heard him say that. She knew she wasn’t the same woman but this was the one thing in her life that had made her feel alive since the funeral. She didn’t want to give it up. 

They’re just going to have to get used to it. She thought as she unwrapped the bright pink wraps from her hands. Rooting through her backpack, she made sure she had everything. Slinging her bag over her shoulders, she queued up her running playlist. 

Striding toward the front door she gave the obligatory head nod to all the members still in the facility. 

Shoving the door open, the wind that had buffeted the building all night slapped her in the face. Eyes tearing up, she adjusted the straps of her backpack, hit play and started to jog back to her apartment. 

Demons!

Come on!

You've got a vision,

You're on a mission!

~~~

He almost missed her. 

The all black clothing she had taken to wearing, combined with how the last vestiges of red in the sky were quickly being overrun by the inky black of the night sky made him worried she’d left without him realizing. 

Seeing the door open, light spilling out and illuminating her form, he breathed a sigh of relief. Watching her jog off into the night, he leapt up from his crouched position on the building next door to the gym. 

Giving (Y/N) a head start, he waited a few beats before taking off after her. Keeping her in his sight but sticking close to the shadows. Every time he saw a form approaching her, he put on a fresh burst of speed; anxiety spiking through his blood at the prospect of her getting in harm's way helping him to power through. After they passed without incident, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

He had done this for a few nights now. 

One had told him they wouldn't head out to HQ for a while, something about needing to wrap things up but he didn't question it. It gave him time to check on her. 

Recently, he was getting nervous that she had started to...he hated sounding like a hippie but...she had started to sense his presence.

Like their souls burned too brightly together so the universe made it so they would never be lost in the dark as long as they were near each other’s light.   

A few weeks ago, he had been following her to her apartment after she left Mark and Jean's. He had been wearing all black, a few feet away, on the roof of a building far above her. 

She had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, tilted her head up and stared right where Billy had been standing. He’d dropped like a rock to the concrete floor of the roof, trying to stifle his breathing, which after almost passing out, realized would be insane if she could hear that. 

There had been several other times where there was no possible way (Y/N) should have been able to tell where he was and yet...

She'd look up, right in the direction of where he was and every time, he sent out a plea, See me. Please. Know that I'm here. That I love you. That I never wanted to leave you. Just, please.

Please don't think I broke my promise.

~Seven Months After the Funeral~

She thought the knuckles on her hand were going to pop out of her skin.

Clenching the steering wheel, she chastised herself for making this process so exceedingly difficult. 

Just let go of the wheel. She scolded herself, Release your finger. Just the pinky finger. It won't be too hard. C'mon, don't be a- 

She cut that thought off quickly. 

Too many memories weighed down four little words and if she wasn't careful, they would drag her into the inky blackness of depression. She couldn't risk it. Not with a mission coming up. 

The breath leaving her mouth shuddered out of her like the wind through an old house. Her chest felt too tight, like each breath made her lungs smaller, not bigger.

This isn't how he'd want to see you. 

Like a flash of lightning, the thought illuminated everything and for a second, the world was crystal clear. Her fingers slipped from the wheel only to land dully in her lap, where they curled in on themselves so they looked like dead bugs. 

Snorting, she figured it would be appropriate they looked like dead bugs considering she was in a cemetery. 

Sun shining down, the sky a cloudless blue, made it impossible to not think of his eyes and how they had looked at her in the full light of day. That one day they’d had together.

Those perfect 24 hours. 

Funny how time constricts and bends so some events pass in the blink of an eye while others pass by like a train at a train crossing when you're running late to work. 

Shaking her head, she bowed her head and closed her eyes. The darkness was a welcome reprieve. But not always.

Sleep had become the bogey man at the end of her bed. Sleeping wasn't a relaxing activity, it was prey she had to stalk and take down before it could get her. It wasn't that there were so many nightmares plaguing her, it was just one nightmare.

It was horrible enough that most nights, she didn't even fully fall asleep, it was more like a deep meditative state. The thought that that one nightmare could overwhelm her was enough to make her not want to sleep ever again. The first time the nightmare came to her was a week after his funeral:

Fog would be swirling around her, swallowing up everything in her path. Taking hesitant steps forward, Billy's form would become clearer as she moved forward. Her heart beat speeding up as she saw Billy peering over the edge of the building. 

Suddenly, realization would crash into her like a train. This wasn't just any building. This was the building that Billy had last been seen running across. Knowing that there was nothing on the other side, she would rush forward to warn him, to pull him back, to crush his body to hers and never let him go.

She needed to warn him, to save him. But no matter how fast she pumped her legs, Billy stayed the same distance away. His legs would tense and that's when she'd start screaming. Her vocal cords stretched to their breaking point as she rushed towards him. But before she could reach him, he'd leap into the air, disappear into the fog and...

That's when she'd wake up. Face wet with tears, the last of her screams dying in her throat. 

She always screamed the same thing. 

Billy! Stay!

The first few times she hadn't realized she was actually screaming those words aloud until a neighbor of hers knocked on her door, asking her if she was okay.

She never knew how to answer that question.

It was such an odd one. Mark and Jean asked her that all the time. Whenever they did, she'd grit her teeth and spit out that she was fine because how else was she supposed to answer that question? 

"Actually Mark, Jean, I'm so glad you asked because I'm not okay and I probably never will be again because the only man I ever loved and trusted, up and broke said trust! Oh, and did I also mention he's dead?"

That's how she wanted to answer their asinine question but by the time she felt like she could get those words out, most people had moved on from Billy. Because people always do.

But not her. 

Though, it hadn't taken long for her to want to sleep with someone else. She figured it would help her heal. 

At the very least provide a necessary distraction.

It was always the same. 

Normally, they'd lock eyes across the bar. Raising her glass of scotch she got every time she went to the same bar with the sticky floors, burnt out bulbs and rickety chairs, she'd lift it towards him in a kind of salute. When he'd smirk back and do the same, she'd quirk an eyebrow only to throw back the drink in one go. The thud of glass on wood signaling to the bartender to pour her another. 

Nine times out of ten, their eyes would immediately become hooded with lust (every now and again, one would take a drink at the same time and choke on his own drink at the action.) A smirk would play across his lips as he'd bring his own glass to his lips and drain it in one go.

Men. God forbid a woman out do them in anything. She always thought ruefully as she'd watch her next victim unfold themselves from the bar stool they were seated on to slip into the empty seat next to her. 

There were rules. She refused to sleep with blondes. She had one time. She had moaned out Billy's name and immediately started crying. When the man with her had tried to comfort her she had pushed him away, screaming at him to get out of her apartment.

The other rule was, no sleepovers. Having men sleep over usually meant they overstayed their welcome and she didn't want them getting comfortable anymore than she wanted to spend the night in a bed that wasn't hers. 

Once the rules had been established, it was the same shit with a slightly different dude. They'd engage in flirty banter, a well-timed arm touch, a glance up at him through her lashes, one more drink and then they'd be in the back of a Lyft, hands everywhere, and then a few hours later she'd be back in a Lyft (one time, the same Lyft driver who had dropped them off had picked her up, alone, offering a hive five as she got out of the car) to go back to her apartment.

Alone. 

Most nights she wondered why she did it. Why she was constantly hunting for that same jolt of electricity that she’d had with Billy. Every time her encounters ended, she always wondered what the point of doing this was. Why did she bother when every man she interacted with came up hilariously short? 

She had tried to make it work, to forget him, but the entire time some man would be kissing her, caressing her, touching her, there was always a part of her that was thinking of another man's tattooed, calloused hands on her body. 

A rap on the window caused her to jump, clenching her hands back into fists as Mark waved, sheepishly, at her from the other side of the glass. The flowers grasped in his fist swayed in the breeze. 

Stepping out of her car, Mark moved to hug her. Holding out her hand to stop him she growled, "I'm already on edge. Don't make it worse." Striding around him and towards the plot of land where the box that Billy was supposed to be in laid dormant under the soil.

A place holder.

Nothing more. 

Mark's shoulders sank as he watched her go. Physical contact had been difficult for her since Billy had gone. It was small, but he noticed. Every time he pulled her into a hug when she showed up at training, she'd stiffen, then it turned into her barely reciprocating until she refused them altogether. It made his heart ache, she used to hug everyone no matter if they had known each forever or four minutes. 

But then again, she'd just become more withdrawn in general. It broke his heart to see it. Watching her light fade and dim, it was like a star becoming a black hole. 

Crunching through the sun dried grass toward the plot, she kept her head down, barreling towards her destination. Figuring that if she walked faster, she could outpace her thoughts before they could catch up with her and the realization of where she was and where she was headed could crush her. 

This was the first time they were visiting Billy's grave since she’d started training to become a Sky Walker. Mark and Jean had tried to get her to go sooner but it hadn't been until Mary asked (Y/N) if she would meet her there did she finally acquiesce.  

The only memory she had of Mary was after the funeral. Watching Mary and her mother walk arm in arm back to their car, their shared grief following them like a cloud. 

At that moment, (Y/N) had envied them. They had each other. Their shared love for Billy would be a balm, it would help them try to heal. She only had herself and her memories. Neither of which were particularly warm or comforting at the moment.

"Whoa, easy." Two hands wrapped around her biceps, bringing her to an abrupt stop. 

Looking up, she was met with the same sky blue eyes that Billy had, framed by lashes that were almost as long as Billy's. Blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, Mary smiled ruefully at her, "Just trying to get this over with huh?" 

Forcing herself to swallow over the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, she nodded wordlessly. Mary's eyes took in her form, noting how her clothes seemed to hang on her, the dull, flinty look her eyes had. Mutely, she linked her arm through (Y/N)'s, pulling her into her side. 

Taking a deep breath, they both turned to look at the headstone in front of them. Seeing his name carved into stone caused her heart to speed up. Scolding herself for being so silly for getting twitter-patted over his name. What was she, fourteen? 

But she couldn't help it. 

"It's weird." 

Humming in acknowledgment, (Y/N) didn't know if Mary meant them being here together, the fact that her brother was dead or just the world in general. 

"It's weird that that little line," Mary gestured toward the line in between the numbers that marked when he had been born and when he died, "is supposed to represent his whole life. Everything he said and did. Everyone he loved."

The emotional toll of hearing those words uttered by his sister caused all of the air in (Y/N)'s lungs to leave, her heart to splinter into even tinier parts. Wobbling, she grasped Mary's arm tightly as Mary wound another arm around (Y/N)'s waist to keep her upright. 

“(Y/N!) Easy, you okay?" 

The weight of Mark's hand on her shoulder helped ground her in reality. Her twisted reality where it wasn't Billy's hand on her shoulder. And it never would be again.

Straightening up, she tugged on the end of her coat, shaking her head, "Yeah. Yes. I'm fine. Just, it's a lot." 

Mark nodded, eyes taking in his sisters appearance, trying not to seem too shocked that this was the most she had revealed her feelings to him, to anyone, in the past few weeks.  

Locking eyes with Mary's blue ones over top of (Y/N)'s head, he mouthed a quick thank you in which she inclined her head to show she understood. 

Mark had been in contact with Mary constantly. First it was getting names of counselors and support groups to help his sister heal, then it turned into them talking and developing a...something. They had developed a relationship that neither were sure what to call but seeing her here caused his heart to flutter. 

Feeling (Y/N)’s shoulders rise and fall, he lifted his arm so she could step out from underneath them, "I'll see you guys later." 

Opening his mouth, Mark tried to protest but when he felt Mary's hand land on his bicep, he closed it. (Y/N)'s all black form grew to be a small speck on the blue horizon. 

He was surprised the whole ground didn't open up to swallow her at that moment. She looked like a specter of death. But he supposed what she really was was worse. She was a casualty of death, and there was no hope for that. 

~Nine Months After the Funeral~

A few months of intense training later, after she had executed one of the most difficult tricks Jean and Mark had designed, Jean finally told her she was ready to go after Chase. 

"Fucking finally." she groaned, wiping the sweat from her face with the bottom of her shirt, “I’m going to rinse off and change, then meet me at my apartment!” she yelled over her shoulder as she raced to the locker room. 

Jean nodded and several minutes later, hair still damp, raised a fist to knock on her front door. Before he could knock, the door swung open to reveal her laptop open and her kitchen table covered with charts, maps and blueprints of Chase’s compound. 

“What took you so long?” 

Jean whistled as he took it all in, "When did you do this?" 

"When I first read that news article about Chase. So..here's what I'm thinking." Laying out her plan, Jean couldn't help feeling impressed. It was foolproof. He was also relieved that all she wanted was to bring Chase to justice, share his personal files with the government and the entire Internet so she could expose him then get the hell out of there.

As she laid out the plan she was careful not to mention how much Chase needed to pay for all the lives he took with his negligence and selfishness. She kept emotion out of her tone, just the facts, as she walked Jean through her plan to bring Chase to justice. 

But she knew justice wouldn’t be enough. 

Justice was never enough for people like that. Because the rules of justice were skewed so men like that always got off scot free. In her heart of hearts, she knew it didn’t matter if she leaked every atrocious thing he’d ever done. He'd be back out in the public eye in a few years and no one would bat an eyelash because he had money, power and privilege. The three most essential ingredients to make any good villain. 

She wouldn't be able to live with herself if this man was able to walk away. If she didn't do right by Isabella, she didn't know how she'd be able to continue living with herself. 

"From there, I'll get the files, download them to the flash drive, hack into the mainframe, deposit them there and then get the hell out. Minimal damage, minimal casualties, maximum impact." 

"That's how most people describe having sex with me." 

"I don't have time to unpack how distressing all of that is right now but, what do you think? Is it doable? And will you and Mark help me?" 

Jean's eyes scanned the blueprints before him. He saw how her fingers were beating an erratic beat on her thighs, how her feet constantly shifted as if she wanted to take off in a million directions at once. This was the most animated he'd seen her in weeks. He knew this may be their only chance to really get her settled, let her burn off some steam with a mission and then they could get her back to her old self. 

Heaving a giant sigh, he hung his head down, "Fucking fine. We'll do it. BUT," his head snapped up and almost felt bad when he saw the smile that had slipped across her face fade. Almost. "You listen to us. Mark and I have final say in all of this. Got it? We've done this before and while you'll be the one in the field, we have markedly more experience so let us do what we do best. Got it?" 

He stuck out his hand for her to shake. Her (Y/E/C) eyes flitted over his features, seeing if he'd break or if he was just pulling her leg. When she saw nothing but sincerity looking back at her, she slipped her hand into his. "Deal." 

Jean almost started crying when a sparkle caught his eye, her thumb had a final bit of pink sparkly nail polish on it, making him wonder if he had made a terrible mistake. 

~A Week Later~

"I'm in." 

Part of her always cringed whenever she said those two words. She couldn't help but think of a shaggy haired, pre-pubescent 12-year old, huddled over their laptop, fingers clacking frantically, the glow of their computer screen the only thing illuminating the Mountain Dew bottles surrounding them.

But, it just came with the job she supposed. 

Creeping along the hall, she checked over her shoulder. Feeling the familiar flutter of adrenaline spike in her stomach, she reached for the package that was hidden in her pocket. As her fingers brushed over its cylindrical shape she felt her shoulders relax. Then, she moved her hand down further to make sure the knife she’d strapped to her thigh was still firmly in place, that really helped her to relax. 

She quickly sent up a thank you to Cassandra, wherever she was, for leaving her knife sharpening kit at Mark’s place. The linoleum underneath her feet reflected the dim red light that ran along the length of the hallway. 

"In 20 feet you're going to reach the checkpoint. Remember, there's a big ass-"

"Grid of invisible wires, yeah yeah. I know, Jean. We went over this a million times." 

"Well, with how little you pay attention during those meetings I'm surprised you can even remember the address." 

"How about you shut the fuck up and let me do my damn job?" she snarled into her comms. 

Blocks away, Jean ripped his headset off to shake his head at Mark who just sighed, eyes never leaving the computer screen where his sisters grainy form was seen lurking towards the wire netting, "I know, dude. I know."

"Fucking Billy. If only he hadn't-"

"Jean. Please. We all still wish he was here. Don't make it harder."

Huffing out a breath, Jean turned back to the keyboard, shoving his headphones back into place as he deactivated the alarms to the rooms (Y/N) needed to get in to. 

Throwing a strand of her hair into the hallway, she nodded when it settled to the floor without getting zapped. 

"You really don't trust me, do you (Y/N)?

"I trust you, I just don't trust the security protocols in this place. A fortress like this has to have backups of the backups." 

"Bitch! That's why we're here!" 

Snorting at how high Jean's tone had gotten, she continued prowling toward the door that led into Chase’s inner sanctum. He didn't let anyone but a select few into the room that was waiting for her at the end of the hallway. It was where he kept all of his documents, where he entertained foreign emissaries and got them to sign off on him dumping his toxic waste in the water because who cared about people's health when he could make a few more dollars? 

Shaking her head to straighten her brain out, she took a deep breath as she tread closer to the intimidating mahogany door that loomed before her. 

Glancing down, she saw the pad to the left of the door, they needed a retinal scan to get in. She waited as from miles away, Mark's hands were flying over the keyboard as he worked his magic. Using a close up image of Chase's eye they had captured a few weeks ago, he embedded it into the code for the lock. When it lit up green she smirked, "Thanks, big brother." 

"Don't thank me yet. Expose that fucking loser and come home safely. Then we can talk." 

Nudging the door open, she made a beeline for the imposing white desk in front of the picture window looking out over, ironically, the ocean. Rolling her eyes, she briskly walked over to his computer. Fingers gliding over the keys, fishing around in the pocket of her black athletic leggings, she cursed, "Why the FUCK do women's pockets always have to be so small."

"It's just another way for the patriarchy to keep you down. Hard on, sister."

Pausing in her actions, she raised her eyes up, fixing on a distant point as she opened and closed her mouth, ready to correct Jean when Mark's voice rang through her comms, "He's got the right spirit. Just let him have this." 

Shrugging, she bent down to the task at hand, inserting the USB, opening up files and dumping them onto the Internet and sending them to the entire UN Embassy, every government official, Greenpeace and the whole world to condemn this monster. 

As she finished uploading the last of Chase’s files to the EPA’s mainframe, she heard footsteps approaching. 

And right on time. 

"Uhh, (Y/N)? Don't mean to alarm you but Chase himself and four armed guards are barreling down on you. Get out the window NOW and meet at the rendezvous point." 

Hearing how Mark's voice shook on the last word caused her to pause for a fraction of a second, wondering if she was making the right choice. Like a flash, she shook herself from her stupor and straightened up. Pulling the USB out of the computer she dropped it into her pocket, reaching a finger up to disconnect her comms, "I know. I planned for it. Sorry boys. I’ll see you on the other side" She clicked her comms off just as she heard Jean and Mark start to protest.  

Closing her eyes, she rolled her shoulders. Reaching back into her pocket she took out the extra package she’d been carrying and set it on the desk.

Carefully, she extracted the vile and needle that was inside. 

When the door burst open, all Chase saw was a woman, silhouetted by moonlight, holding a needle up to the light, tapping it a few times. 

"Nice of you to join me, Chase. Won't you sit down?" she murmured.

"Who the fuck are you, you crazy bitch? I have the entire government on my ass, PETA has threatened with more than one lawsuit and the FBI, EPA and other three letter entities aren't far behind to pick me up and haul me off for the rest of my life. So," he stepped to the edge of the desk, slamming his palms down, "I'll ask one more time. Who.The. FUCK. Are. You?"

Watching the last air bubble pop, she smiled. She had never felt so calm in her life and when her eyes dragged from the needle to meet Chase’s, he was surprised to see a serene looking woman staring back at him. 

"You killed people. So now I'm going to kill you." 

And she lunged forward.

Her hand came down holding the needle, aiming for the largest artery in his neck. Eyes widening, he stumbled back, arms pinwheeling. Knocking the needle from her hand, she watched it twist through the air, the moon reflecting off the glass and then she lost it as it hit the plush carpet without a sound. 

She didn't have too much time to think about it because all of a sudden the four men that had come in with Chase were on her. 

Leaping onto the desk, she wrapped her thighs around the neck of the man closest to her. Thanking Mark for bullying her into never skipping leg day, she squeezed her legs around his neck as he spun wildly, trying to dislodge her. Hands scrambling at her thighs, he dropped to his knees where she unwound her legs from his shoulders, dropping to the ground and turning in one swift motion, she kneed him in the face, turning to the next man as the one on the floor tried in vain to stop the fountain of blood flowing from his nose. 

Another one was right on her as she aimed a punch right to his midsection, hearing an “OOF” leave his mouth, she kicked his legs out from underneath him. As he landed, she raced in between his legs, located his kneecap and with a twist of her wrist, dislocated it with a sharp POP. 

With a howl, he rolled around on the ground as the one with the bloody nose limped over to help. Breathing heavily she turned, only to be faced with the other two bearing down on her. 

Jesus, she thought, Star Wars always led me to believe the bad guys would come at me one at a time. Not all at once. 

It was the last thought she remembered having before she could only focus on trying to make it out alive. 

One of the men grabbed her arm, she grabbed his wrist, finding a pressure point and bore down until his fingers loosened around her wrist. Not letting up, she snapped his wrist and kicked him in the groin. 

As he slumped to the ground, the other one grabbed her ankle, yanking her leg out from underneath her causing her to face plant into the carpet. Her hands scrabbled for anything to hold onto as he dragged her body towards him. Twisting, she reached for her knife. As he reached a hand down toward her throat, she brought it up in one quick motion. 

She rolled away as the man screamed in agony as he searched for his missing finger. Scrambling to her feet, she felt something collide with the back of her head. Her vision began to swim as the carpet came up to meet her face once again. She’d forgotten about the first guard who had been attending to the second man she’d taken down. Now, he stood over her, teeth bared, blood still flowing from his nose, gun cocked and aimed right in between her eyes. 

"Wait!" 

Chase's form became clearer as he knelt down beside her, "You don't deserve to die by a bullet do you?" He cooed as he stroked a finger down her cheek. Turning her head, she tried to snap at his finger but the quick movement caused her to retch. 

Laughing softly, she heard the tap of fingernails hitting a glass vile, "You deserve to die by your own little concoction. It’s much more poetic, don't you think?" 

He leaned over her, bringing his mouth to her ear as he caressed her arm, rubbing two fingers over the crook of her elbow, "Like Romeo and Juliet but, darling Juliet" she hissed as he stabbed the needle into her arm, "This time, Romeo will live. And he'll win." He pressed the release and she felt a tear leak from her eye when suddenly, the world exploded. 

Glass fell over her form like stars falling from the sky as the bright lights of a stealth helicopter illuminated the room. The man with the bloody nose whipped his gun toward the window, firing rapidly but quickly crumpled as someone strode right up to him, and shot him point blank. 

Chase scrambled up, hands out in front of him, "What the fuck is this? Are you CIA? FBI? Listen, I have more money than God, I can set you up for the rest of your life. You'll never have to worry-"

A gunshot was the only answer Chase got. 

"More than one person can have more money than God, ass-wipe." The figure kicked Chase's body as he walked past him, his form swimming before (Y/N) as the poison leaked into her blood stream, "And besides," he knelt down by her form, fingers searching for a pulse, "I use reusable straws because baby turtles are cute as fuck."

Her head lolled to the side as she used the last bits of her strength to see who her savior was. A man with a rugged face stared back as he moved to crouch behind her, cradling her head in his hands as he yelled to someone behind him to hurry the fuck up. 

A second face looked down at her as she felt her eyelids begin to close, the hushed sounds of the man holding her head offering soothing platitudes as she made peace with the fact that she was about to die. 

As the second person rifled through the medical bag they had been carrying, hurriedly pulling out instruments, the last thing she heard was the man whispering into her ear, "Come on darling. Hold on for me. Hold on for him." 

~Three Days Later~

Bright. 

That was her first thought as her eyelids fluttered open and immediately closed upon being assaulted by blinding white light. 

For a wild second she thought she had gone to heaven. 

"I know what you're thinking. Is this heaven? No. It's not. Because if this were heaven I'd be smoking a fat blunt, drinking the finest gin while lying on a nude beach where no living person could bother me. People like you." 

The squeal of chair legs being dragged over the floor caused her to flinch. The voice that spoke was dry, making her wonder if this man ever took anything seriously. And also if he could read minds. 

"Pretty good stunts you pulled out there. You learn that shit from watching Black Widow too many times?" 

Silence. She tried to keep her breath steady so maybe he would think she was still asleep. 

"Sweetheart, I just saw your eyelids crack open a second ago. There's no way in hell you dropped back off to sleep that quickly." 

"Shouldn't I be dead?" It felt like her vocal cords were two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. The sound that was expunged from her throat was a dry husk.  

"Should be but, like Chase, I have more money than God and a crack team of experts. One of whom happens to know exactly what was in that vial and the antidote for it. You've been stable and asleep for three days now." 

He saw her eyebrows twitch, which he figured was the most reaction he would get out of her. 

Keeping her eyes closed made it easier to digest the information he was throwing at her and to keep her poker face in tact. The voice sounded familiar to her, but she couldn't place where or when, she’d heard it before.

"Is he-?" 

"Dead? Yeah. A half dose of poison most people can come back from, but a bullet right through the skull? Much like Humpty Dumpty, we can't exactly put that back together again." 

She felt her lips twitch and scolded herself for letting any emotion show through. 

"He deserved it."

"I know. And you deserve to use your skills in a better way." Her body stilled, her breath stopped for a beat and when it resumed, the monologue continued, "I have...fuck I hate sounding like Samuel L. Jackson but I have a team. And we could use someone like you." 

Another scraping sound, the soft rustle of fabric moving as the voice sounded like it was coming over her, "Think about it. And I'll contact you. Don't worry. I always keep my promises." 

Her hands clenched, the veins popping out as those five words washed over her like a cold shower.

The clenched hands were all the reaction he needed. 

Hearing his footsteps get softer she reached a hand down and felt a piece of cardstock brush against her finger tips. When the door closed, she cracked open an eyelid to look down at it, but it was blank. 

~~~

Closing the door, One leaned up against the hallway, letting his head knock against the wall of the hospital. 

Four had warned him. 

But this made things incredibly interesting. 

Or difficult. It all depended on how he wanted to view the situation. 

And what she wanted. 

After the funeral, One’d kept a close eye on Four. He knew what kind of pull love could have over a man. And Four was young. The youngest on the team in age, sure, but he let his feelings get the better of him a lot of the time which made him seem even younger. 

Which could be dangerous. And they were already in way too much danger as it was on a daily basis so he needed to nip it in the bud. 

Closing his eyes, he thought about the first time he caught Four. 

~Two Months Ago~

It had been quiet. 

The wind whistled through the various holes that littered the planes, causing sand to get whipped up along with it, tornadoes forming and quickly collapsing. 

One had been awake. He rarely slept but he had been in the Case Room, going over some files. Trying to decide what their next mission needed to be when he heard a noise. 

Keeping his body still, he strained his ears to see if he would hear it again. When he heard the floor creak, he crept to the door, peering out to see who or what it could possibly be. 

Seeing the familiar shape of Four's hoodie, he rolled his eyes. When he saw him creep into the control room, he became suspicious. He knew how tempting the draw was to check on the ones you cared about. But with how emotionally fragile Four had been since he'd joined, he didn't think this was the best idea, but he needed to confirm that’s what he was doing before he blew up on the kid. 

Pushing the door open, he walked down the hallway, being careful to tread lightly so as not to alert Four to his presence till he absolutely needed to. 

Using his years of training, he placed his body precisely so he could look into the room but Four wouldn't be able to see him should he look around. Which, he didn't think would be an issue. Four was engrossed by the screen in front of him, One didn't think a nuclear explosion would cause him to look up. 

Taking his chances, he slunk into the room. Four had footage of an apartment pulled up on the screens. Three people, two guys, one girl, standing around a table. Four had headphones on so One couldn't hear the audio but it looked like the individuals on screen were in the middle of an intense argument. 

Nibbling his thumbnail, Four's eyes were laser focused on the woman as she gesticulated wildly. Blueprints, computer screens and maps littered every available surface of the apartment and One recognized the planning stages of a mission. He got a little closer and recognized the girl on screen as the same one who had been at Four's funeral. 

Four had told him his background on the trip over to HQ. One figured the other two were the ones that were left over from his original Sky Walker crew. 

(He’d roasted Four about that dumbass name for weeks afterward.)

Shaking his head, One heaved a sigh and reached forward to snatch the headphones off Four's head. 

"HEY! Who the bloody hell-" Four's frame twisted up and out of the chair only to come to an immediate stop when he saw who had his headphones dangling from their fingertips. 

"Didn't know The Bachelorette had a new season running! Are they in the hometown segment?"

Four blinked at him, "It's really distressing you know that much about The Bachelorette." 

"What's really distressing is the fact that you're checking up on her. What the fuck do you think you're doing Four?" 

"Look, I'm sorry but-"

"No. There are no buts here. Even if her butt is really nice, you gotta put it behind you dude. Especially her."

"I know that, One but-"

One had started pacing back and forth as he warmed to the topic before him, "Do you know how much money is on the line here? How much is at stake? Our lives, our very existence, this could all blow up at any point and we could die. For real. Or, even worse, the government comes in, blows up our spot and we get sentenced to death. Or worse, jail.  And you yourself have such fond feelings of, what did you call them? The pigs?" One shot Four a disgruntled look at that statement, noting how Four's hands were clenching and unclenching in an attempt to stay cool. 

"Look, One, I just-"

Rounding on him, pointing a finger in his face One roared, "No, Four, you just. You clearly don't want to be part of this team. Clearly I made a mistake in asking you to be part of this if you can't get over the little school girl crush you have on this girl you slept with once and she sucked your dick so well that you mistook it for love-"

His air supply was cut off as Four slammed One up against the wall. The tattoos decorating his hand popped against his skin as he gripped One’s windpipe in a steel trap. For the first time since bringing Four onto the team, One was truly afraid of him and understood why he was so good at what he did. 

The look in Four's eyes cowed One immediately as Four growled out the next few sentences, "You listen up right here, right now you fucking prick," Slamming his head back into the wall One saw stars, "Her name is (Y/N) and she is worth more than any person on this damn planet. She's the best person I’ve ever been with and I’m damn lucky she even deigned to give me the time of day. She’s the reason I even joined this bloody insane operation, so show some fucking respect or I'll have no problem slitting your throat and moving on with my life." 

One's vision was getting black around the edges as he frantically nodded his head at Four’s words. Four let him go where he collapsed to the floor on hands and knees, coughing as Four paced around the room, scrubbing at the shaved sides of his head with his fists. 

After a few seconds of coughing, One rubbed at his throat as he pushed himself up, "You're fucking crazy, dude. Really glad I recruited you. That's the kind of attitude we need out in the field." 

Four shook his head as he let out a humorless laugh as One brushed his hands off, "You don't understand One. You never will." 

"Cut the emo bullshit. We're not in Twilight. We're adults, just tell me what-" He stopped as Four  swiftly turned to face him, eyes pleading,

"She became a Sky Walker, One. She's doing what I used to do because she doesn't think her life has any meaning and that's bullshit. She's my everything, okay? She's the reason I get up in the morning. She's the reason I do this damn job. She's the reason I keep myself alive out there. She's my guiding light. She's the sunshine on a cloudy day and-and” he waved his hands around uselessly as he tried desperately to pull another cliche from thin air, “I don’t know, man. She’s every other cliche you know about how someone makes your world better and she's putting herself at risk because of me" 

One stood stock still as Four took another deep breath in, the fire in his eyes going from an inferno to embers as he stared at the screen where it showed her bending over the blueprints, tracing a line with her finger, "She's the love of my life and-" taking a shuddery breath in One felt his own eyes start to get misty, "Her light is the one thing that keeps me going in this miserable world. And if she's gone, I don't know if I'll make it." A tear made its way down One’s cheek as Four admitted this last part on a whisper. 

One wasn't sure he was supposed to hear that last part but there was stillness as the room held its breath as it waited for what One would have to say, 

"Alright. What do you need from me?" 

Four's eyes snapped to One's. Stepping closer to One, his eyes roved over his face, trying to tell if he meant it, "You're not messing with me are you?" 

"Not in this regard. Probably over something else I will but, what would make you feel better?"

Four took a second to contemplate it, "If she does seem like she's in trouble with this mission, we rescue her.” His eyes widened as he took another step closer to One, “AND, you offer her a spot on the team."

"Four-"

"One it's this or you lose me for good if she-she- '' Four's voice cracked as he turned his head away. Not even able to finish that horrible thought. 

One’s heart squeezed in his chest. Christ, he thought, I’m more invested in their relationship than any bystander should be.  

Groaning, One rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Fucking fine. I'm so going to regret this but...fuck it. If it seems like things are going sideways, we'll step in. I'll offer her a place on the team." Four started to smile but One stepped forward, pointing a finger in his face, "You have to meet with her before she makes her final decision though. I can offer it to her but she gets the final call if she wants to do this thing with us. With you. Got it?"

Nodding frantically, Four closed the gap between the two of them and wrapped One in a hug, "Oh, so we talk about our feelings for two minutes and all of a sudden we're into hugs? Weird."

Four let him go and with one last look at the screens, bade One goodnight. 

Watching him leave, One turned to the screens, watching her analyze the blueprints, writing notes on them occasionally. Leaning on the back of the rolling chair One sighed, "Oh (Y/N), you have no idea what you've done."

~~~

Reaching into his pocket, One slide his phone out, shooting a quick text to Four, 

She’s awake. And alive. Now we wait. 

Heaving a sigh, he glanced down the hallway to see Seven approaching. Making eye contact with One, he raised his arms up as if to say, Well? What's happening?

"Fuck if I know. She's insane.” At Seven’s bug eyed look he quickly backpedaled, “In a good way. I don't think she's insane in, like, a psychological way. Just grieving."

"Oh good because grief is such a good emotion to grapple with in this line of work. Oh, and by the way did we mention that the man she’s grieving is actually alive and well?" 

"You know, sarcasm is really ugly on you. Luckily, I'm not ugly so I can wear sarcasm well." 

Snorting, Seven slumped against the wall next to One, letting his own head thud softly against the wall. Crossing his arms they both stared ahead at an unknowable future.

Seven broke the silence, "What really happens now, One. I mean, I know she's good, we all saw her in action. Taking out all four of those guards? Her entire plan was foolproof. It was impressive, no doubt but this is a tricky situation, one that none of us has ever had to deal with before." 

"I know, I know." One let those four words out on a single huff of breath. Groaning he squeezed his eyes closed, "Why did I have to pick the one man on this earth who's desperately in love with a girl who so happened to be desperately in love with him and then they both went full Batman when they lost each other?"

"Because you see yourself in Four. That's why."

One's eyes slid over to Seven, "That doesn't leave this hallway."

Nodding once to show he understood, Seven pressed himself up. Twisting his body so he was facing One, his posture the only remnant to remind everyone he was once the perfect soldier, "But seriously One, what now. What can I do?"

Pressing his hands against the wall, One heaved himself up with a grunt, "Solve this for me?" The single eyebrow raise was the only answer he got, "Alright, alright. Come on. We need to go back and debrief everyone on this crazy shit. Don't know how I'm going to use small enough words to explain this to Three." 

"You're on your own for that one dude." Seven laughed as they ambled down the hall, laughter dying on his lips his face fell into a serious mask, "How do you think Four's going to handle it?" 

"If I knew I wouldn't be having this charming heart-to-heart with you." 

"Seriously man, you're not even a little bit worried?"

"I'm freaking out dude!" Seven was brought up short as One rounded on him, gesticulating wildly, "This is no man's land! Even more so than this original idea! Four's so deep in his feelings with this girl and she's clearly heartbroken about him being gone and is on a one-woman train toward self-destruction that she's determined to meet him in death and” One’s eyes widened comically, “Ooooh my god I've Romeo and Juliet-ed them. Holy shit, I'm the Nurse. I'm too beautiful to be The Nurse!" 

Gently prying One's hands from his collar, Seven looked him dead in the eye, "You have got to get a grip. You're spiraling and it's making your eyes go in two different directions."

Crushing his eyes closed, One took a deep breath in, "You're right. You're right. I need to get it together. We can handle this." Stepping back One hopped up and down on the balls of his feet, punching the air, "I need you to slap me." 

The crack of Seven's palm making contact with his cheek sent One staggering back several steps. 

"OW! What the fuck? No hesitation? No asking if I was sure?"

"I've been wanting to do that since the day you broke into my apartment." Seven shrugged as One glared at him, cupping his pink cheek.

"Fine, but it did help clear my head. So. Thanks. I guess."

Seven smirked.

"Alright, the plan. Let's talk to Four first. He needs to understand that for this to work, he needs to talk to her one on one. And it has to be her call. We can't influence her. If she wants in, fine but they need to work through their shit. And if she says no? Then we let her walk back to her life. And Four needs to respect that. He has to let her go." 

"Easier said than done. I've seen his face when he looks at pictures of her on his phone." 

"Yeah well, bet you didn't know he's also been following her? Keeping watch over her via surveillance tapes? And tracking her home?”

That brought Seven up short, "No? What the fuck?"

"I know. If it was anybody else's story I would have called the cops ages ago. As it is, it’s kind of romantic"  

~A Week Later~

"We're all ghosts down here. Except, we don't float. One because gravity's intact and two because I'm not a cannibalistic clown." 

"Could've fooled me." 

"Didn't know I recruited fucking Tina Fey over here. Anyway, here's headquarters. Or home sweet home." One said in that same drole way he had of phrasing everything.  

Walking through the punishing desert to get to the graveyard of felled planes had caused a shiver to pass through her. She did her best to suppress it but it was difficult. Passing through the giant hulking masses of steel caused her to feel like she was encroaching on the territory of ancient deities. The area felt loaded with their silence, the carnage keeping a silent watch as their footfalls disrupted the grains of sand that were being buffeted by the wind that swirled through the gaping openings in the bellies of the planes.  

It had been a week since she’d been discharged from the hospital, well, not hospital, but the private sanctuary One had kept her at while she healed.

He had come into her room the day after he had left his card, shock on his face at seeing her sitting up, arms crossed. 

"What the hell do you do and how do I fit into it?" 

The single eyebrow she raised at One prompted him to explain, in detail, everything they did and what it would entail. 

She’d been silent, eyes focused on his face, not making any sounds or moving until he finished his spiel. Then nodding, she asked one question, 

"When do I start?" 

He explained that her death would be easy to fake since she had technically almost died anyway. What he he hadn't told her was he hadn’t made it public just yet, he didn't want to make her brother and friend worry too much. Or give them a false alarm only for her to waltz back from the dead if she couldn’t handle being with Four. 

So, here she was, following One up the stairs of the largest plane carcass. Pushing aside the plastic curtains that did their best to keep sunlight, sand and bugs out, he extended an arm in an exaggerated bow. 

"I do hope it's to your liking Princess." 

"Don't call me that you prick." She murmured as she breezed past him, pausing in the doorway to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior of the plane after being out in the searing sunlight. 

The main room held more computer monitors than she had ever seen. She thought Mark's setup of four monitors had been impressive but the wall of screens staring back at her made her realize how rookie their operation had been. 

A large silver table in the middle held a commanding presence and she knew, instinctively, that One felt most comfortable at the head of it, barking orders while still being able to hit the group in front of him with a sarcastic jab or two. 

Taking a few hesitant steps forward she peered at the weapons lining the back wall. Snorting, she gestured to it lazily, turning her head to pierce One with a gaze, "You preparing for the apocalypse or do I require this much of a security detail?" 

One's face broke into a fake smile as he leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees as he wheezed a few times, "Oh my god, sweetheart, oh god, please, stop, my stomach, it can't take the hilarity anymore, please, god." With that last word the smile dropped from his face and he stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest, 

"We're a group of vigilantes that have a specific subset of skills that makes us some of the most dangerous people on the planet. We go after the people that are even more dangerous than us. You think we just talk about our feelings and politely ask them to stop committing human rights atrocities?" 

Brushing past her he shook his head, "Unbelievable." Muttering about new blood while he started down the hallway. 

Eyes dancing over the various boards lighting up, she had the unmistakable sense that someone was watching her. One had told her there were five more that she would meet so she wondered if one of them was about to jump her as a weird sort of initiation. 

But when she turned her head to the entrance, there was nothing. 

Just the wind, blowing the plastic flaps back and forth. Scanning over the area she could have sworn the darkest corners contained something that was intrigued with her. Taking a hesitant step forward, One's voice jolted her out of her paranoia, "Hey, Amy Poehler, you coming to share more of your classic wit with the whole class or are you just going to dilly dick around all day? C'mon, I'm a busy man." 

"Coming!" She yelled back, turning on her heel to jog down the hallway after him, turning her head one last time to make sure no ghosts were following. 

~

Billy breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that today was the day he’d have to face her. He and One had discussed it extensively last night. One had been adamant, don't get attached to her being on the team before she explicitly says she wants to stick around, you know the rules, I know Seven changed things a little but this is getting into a whole new territory of softness and on and on while Billy had just sat there, taking it. 

One finally ran out of steam (Billy wondered, not for the first time, if One had a coke addiction to get all the energy he needed) and Billy nodded his head, chewing over everything One had just said. He opened his mouth, preparing to show One how much he understood, how this was him only looking out for the team and adding a valuable asset. What came out of his mouth surprised him and One, 

"I love her. I need her or else I won't make it through this life alive." He lifted his eyes to One and One took a sharp intake of breath. He had never seen Billy so open, so vulnerable. Even when he had been on the brink of dying, twice. 

Searching his blue eyes, One sighed, dragging a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he scrubbed at his hair, groaning, "Fuck me, I must be getting soft in my old age. FINE. But remember. You have to talk to her. If you two can't work through your shit, she's gone. Poof. Vamoose. Got that? This is her choice. She gets to make the call if she stays, if she wants to work with you and if she leaves. Not you. Capisce?"

Billy nodded, trying his hardest to mask the eagerness he felt at the possibility of being with (Y/N) again. Being around her light, feeling that same pull into her warmth. 

So, how could anyone blame him for wanting to see her as soon as she stepped foot into headquarters? 

He had lurked in the shadows, pulling his hood over his hair, making sure his eyes were concealed. His eyes were her favorite part of him, she had told him during those amazing 24 hours they had shared together. 

Billy couldn't believe it had been 365 days since they had seen each other. It felt like it had gone by so fast. But then again, he’d been all over the world, fighting bad guys and overthrowing dictators, (Y/N) had been living her life. 

And started Sky Walker training which he was going to have to talk to her about that. 

When she walked in, Billy had shrank even farther into the shadows, biting his tongue till he tasted blood, so he wouldn’t scream out her name. 

It was still the same (Y/N) he’d fallen in love with, longer hair, more muscles but what really threw him was her eyes. They were the same color but the warmth that he had come to love was extinguished. Replaced with a flinty resolve that if anyone talked or looked at her, they would get their ass kicked. 

It was the first time that he started to wonder if maybe this was the best idea. And let himself ponder the idea that she could potentially say no. That she wouldn't want to see him. That she would never be able to forgive him.

But he needed to know. He needed to try, he needed to show up for himself and for her. To show her that he still loved her, that he had always loved her. 

Stepping out of the shadows, he pulled his hood down, making his way to the meeting room where they’d be waiting for him.  

It wasn't till he brought his hand down from his hood that he realized his hands were shaking.

~

"Hola, Papi. Who's this lovely lady sitting here? My birthday isn't until next week." Three smirked as he pulled a chair out for himself, aiming a lazy wink at (Y/N). Her months of seducing men just like him in bars kicked in and she winked back, letting a slow smile crawl across her face. 

An intimidating blonde woman kicked his chair as she sank into her own, "I meet your mother and this is the thanks I get?" 

"You know I didn't mean it mi amor. I've only got eyes for you."

"And apparently any other attractive woman in a six mile radius." She extended her hand to (Y/N), "I'm Two. Nice to meet you."

Grasping Two’s hand in her own, she shook it, impressed with the strength of the woman's grip. 

"Well, since you and Two are so happy together, this is my time to shine. I'm Seven." Seven grabbed her hand, pulling it up to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, holding her prone in his stare. He pulled back, winking at her and she felt a blush climb into her cheeks, "(Y/N). You have a much better chance than Three does at getting into these Nike leggings." 

Seven's jaw dropped as One made a retching noise and Five stepped forward, extending her hand "I don't want to get into your leggings but I’m glad there's someone else here who's trained to keep these idiots alive." 

(Y/N) shook her hand, smiling back at her, "Surprised they've lasted this long with just one doctor."

"You and me both." Rolling her eyes she turned to One, "This the one we picked up from Casewell’s joint?” 

“The very same” was One’s reply as he flicked through the folder in his hands. 

Five’s eyebrows rose up as a low whistle escaped her lips, “Shit. Well, I’m definitely glad you came around then. I’m assuming you’re the one who brought the vile of polonium?” 

(Y/N) nodded, very aware of every eye in the room assessing her, sizing her up. It was like being in a room with Cassandra but multiplied by five.

“We saw you in action. Very impressive.” Two chimed in, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Everyone else nodded as she tried her best to tamp out the flush of appreciation building in her cheeks. Snorting, she deflected, “Thanks. I guess you guys couldn’t have stepped in earlier to help, huh?” 

“Sweetheart that’s not really our style. And in case you missed the chopper outside the building, we’re very particular about our style.” Flinging the folder down on the table, One braced his hands on the back of a chair, “So, now you’ve met everyone. The whole Brady Bunch of chucklefucks before you.” 

(Y/N) had been mentally going over everyone's names in her head, when she furrowed her brow, "Hold on, either I’m dumber than I thought or your numbers are all out of whack. Where are Six and Four?"

Seven flicked his eyes to Two. Five shifted in her seat, opening her mouth when One cut her off, "Six is no longer with us and Four will be in shortly. I wanted you to meet the whole team first, get a feel for us, then meet Four and make your decision if you'd want to stay with us."

Cocking her head she flicked her eyes to One, "Why? Is Four like a 4Chan meninist who hates women? Why would he be the catalyst for whether I stay or go?" 

Since meeting him, this was the first time she had seen One at a loss for words. It made her pulse speed up, clenching her hands into fists she tried to ignore the moisture that had started to accumulate on her palms. 

One opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, only to sigh and rub the bridge of his nose as he moved to the door of the meeting room they had been in, "It's probably easier if we just get this over with. Alright. Everyone out. C'mon hurry up." He waved his hands impatiently at the rest of the team standing around. Reluctantly they all started to move, Seven and Three grumbling about how they didn't want to miss any of the drama. Everyone stopped when her chair clattered to the floor, hands clenched at her sides as she took a step toward the door. 

"What drama? One? What's going on?" She hated how shaky her voice came out but she couldn't help it. What did they mean? Was Four their muscle? Was it a weird hazing thing? Would she have to try to kill this person? Try to make it out of this room alive? 

One was standing half in and half out of the doorway, hand closed over the door knob. Turning back, he locked eyes with her (Y/E/C) ones.  

Her blood ran cold. He looked, sorry. Almost like he pitied her. She was pretty sure One didn't  have feelings so to see this much emotion directed at her? 

She was terrified. 

"It'll all make sense. Just...do what you think is right. Okay? You seem like a smart kid. Trust your gut."

And with those cryptic words he left, shutting the door. Sealing her in to wait for this new threat to emerge. 

~

One walked out of the conference room and ran right into Billy. 

"Jesus, kid. Any closer to me and you'd need to buy me dinner and drinks before that shit."

Billy's eyes looked right through One, "Is she in there? What did you tell her? What's she like? What did she say?" 

One held up his hands to cut off the avalanche of questions, "Yes. The bare minimum by introducing her to everyone. She's like how she was a few minutes ago when you were spying on her, don't think I didn't see you, and she hasn't said anything that I would write home to my own mother about. Oh, except she did tell Seven he could get into her Nike leggings." 

Billy's eye widened and he twisted his body to where the sounds of the team were filtering back to the two of them, "I'll kill him myself if he even laid a fucking hand on her, I swear to god."

"Woah, hey kid. Easy. It was just some harmless flirting and besides, (Y/N)'s a grown ass woman who can make her own decisions. You don't get to dictate who she does and doesn't sleep with."

Billy's eyes were unfocused as he clenched and unclenched his hands. One took stock of the bundle of nerves before him and felt his shoulders droop a little. 

It was times like this that really drove home young Four was. He was the most vulnerable (in terms of emotions and in how little protection he had during missions) and after hearing how he really felt about (Y/N), well, it caused One's own shriveled heart to grow two sizes too big after hearing it. 

Even though sometimes when he heard her name, he could still feel Billy’s hand clamping down around his windpipe. 

He didn't fault Four for it. Seeing how she reacted at the sight of Four's grave almost made him cave and push Four forward, yelling at her to stop crying.

It ripped his heart apart, especially because it made him think about the family he still had out there.   

Sighing, he placed his hands on Billy's tense shoulders, feeling the muscles and sinews so tight he was surprised they didn't snap, "Hey. Hey. Look at me." Billy dragged his eyes away from the door and to One's face, "Don't go in there all freaked out. I think I already stressed her out a little bit so...be cool, okay? And remember, respect her decision. I'll give you all the space you need if she leaves but...respect her choice. That's top priority. Got it?" One gave Four's shoulders a gentle shake so he knew that Four had heard what he’d said. 

Feeling Four's joints loosen as he took stock of his words, One slapped him on the back as he walked back down the hallway, "Also, just a heads up, we will be watching this whole interaction over the feeds so just keep that in mind if you two decide to start fucking." 

~

(Y/N) had been pacing the perimeter of the room, checking for cracks, a hidden door, something so she could get out of here alive. She didn't have any weapons on her. Well, except a Swiss Army knife but that barely counted. 

Running her finger tips over the walls she felt her heart clench as she looked at her busted fingernails. They were cropped short and bare. She missed her pink sparkly nail polish. She carried it with her everywhere though. She always figured that when she started feeling better she'd paint her nails again. So far, it was still unopened. 

Hearing the door knob turn she inhaled sharply, whipping around so her back was pressed into the farthest corner of the room. Her fists clenched and her thighs prepared to pounce or run, whichever came first. Hearing her heart pounding in her chest she took a deep steadying breath as the door opened wider, allowing light to come spilling in, illuminating a silhouette in the doorway. 

She couldn't make out any features under the hood they were wearing. The light in the room was dim and compared to the fluorescent lighting in the hallway, she had to squint to try to make out any features this individual had. Her heart beat sped up the tiniest bit when she realized the figure was built like Billy. 

Then the figure cleared their throat and closed the door behind them. Taking cautious steps into the light. She opened her mouth, "Are-are you Four?" The figure stopped abruptly and nodded in response to her question. She wondered briefly if they were a mute as she ran a hand through her hair. 

Billy's heart almost fell out of his chest when he saw that her hand was shaking as she pushed her hair out of her face. He so badly wanted to be the one to do that he had to plant his feet more firmly on the floor so he wouldn’t race to her.

"They, uh, they haven't assigned me a number yet and I know you all don't do names here so, I guess we gotta wait for me to really introduce myself but I'm the new recruit. It's nice to meet you." She held out her hand, stepping forward. 

After a tense moment, Billy extended his. 

She cocked her head to the side when she noticed Four's hand was shaking. She looked up at him but she still couldn't make out his face with the lighting and his hood. She could just see his bottom lip and she was surprised when she felt her stomach clench at the sight of how full and pink it was. 

Looking down, she clasped her hand in his and felt her blood run cold. 

Running along Four's fingers were tattoos.

Tattoos that were identical to the kind that Billy had.  

Lifting her head up seemed to take an eternity to Billy. 

He held his breath as her other hand reached up, index finger extended, shaking like a leaf in a storm as she brought it within millimeters of making contact with the tattoos she had traced so lovingly during those 24 hours. 

"You bastard." 

~~~

Tag List: @itsabenthing @vroboat @mrhoemazzello @gwendolyns-stacy @alliwantfromyouistomakelovetome @desperatelytryingtosavemyself​ @jonesyaddiction​ @xtrashmammalstefx​ @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @fairestkillerqueenofall​

#billy #ben hardy #ben hardy fic #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy smut #billy fic #billy fanfic #ben hardy oneshot #ben hardy angst #6underground #6 underground #6U #ryan reynolds #four #ben jones #ben jones fanfic #ben jones smut #ben jones oneshot #ben jones angst #billy!ben #skywalker #6U!ben #au