#i've been doing this puzzle the whole week

[allthenicknamesweretaken]

Sitting doing a 2000 pieces puzzle right now

Prime time to bingewatch some shows I've been meaning to watch

[witherby]

hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!

-- :33Anon

I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.

This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 1/2)

Masterlist is Here!

Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.

He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.

Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.

You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.

"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"

That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!

"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."

"What's inherably mean?"

"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."

You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.

"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."

J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.

"You know that I am not a human, correct?"

"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"

"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"

"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.

"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."

"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"

You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.

"You cannot."

"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.

"Metahuman."

"Whatever."

"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."

"Not fly powers?" You frown.

"No, not flight powers."

"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"

"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.

"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."

J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"

"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."

"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.

"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."

"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."

You preen. "I know!"

J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.

"Yay! We did it!"

The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.

"Hello!!!" You shout.

A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.

"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"

"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"

"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"

"I did."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."

"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"

"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.

--

The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.

Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.

"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.

"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.

"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"

"Uh. Some carrots please."

"All out."

Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"

You turn around. You turn back.

"All out. Whataya want!"

"You barely looked!" He insists.

"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."

"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."

"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."

Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."

"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."

"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."

You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.

"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."

"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."

"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.

"There's nothing in there but toys."

"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."

Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.

"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."

Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.

"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."

You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.

It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.

"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"

"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."

"And you can...feel shadows?"

You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."

Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.

"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."

"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.

"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"

"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."

"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."

The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.

"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."

"Then you see the problem."

Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.

"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."

You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.

"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"

"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"

"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."

Oh.

You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.

You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.

Oh.

The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.

But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.

Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.

"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"

You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.

Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.

But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.

[bananapurincore]

(Phainon, who can't stop bringing you up every second of the day and making you everyone's problem one way or another)

“Mydeimos! That's not very nice to say, is it? Do I really have to pick between ‘getting my tongue ripped out’ or ‘getting my windpipe crushed,’ because neither seem ideal.”

Yes, the prince thinks, he’ll even give Phainon the courtesy of doing both if he hears your name another time. Maybe he’ll put in “snap his neck” to the growing list of punishments he has planned and once that's done, be forced to get creative and add more, but that's in the non-zero chance it does get worse.

Miraculously, it does. Mydei shouldn't have been surprised.

They both put their hands in the Verax Leo, Mydei is decidedly not amused by this from the start, but this was allegedly supposed to be a team effort on their part. The prince doesn't exactly remember the stupid riddle this statue in particular decided to spout out—he does remember every gripe and complain his partner makes in response.

Before, it was “If [Name] were here, how would they’ve tried to solve it…”

“Y'know they always get these puzzles right? Haha, they're just good at everything, I don't know how they do it.”

“[Name] said one time that this was their favorite one to talk to. Which, fine, I think this one's the most fair, but he's also the most annoying, don’t you think?

Now, it's, "Mydei, you still haven't gotten an answer yet? If [Name] were here, they'd already have this figured out!"

The blond feels his whole body twitch. Not just his eyes, or his hand resting in the lion’s maw, or his nose as he tries not to lose his patience entirely. One page of creative reparations won't be enough. He'll need three. Even four.

"Then why didn't you bring [Name] instead of me, Deliverer?!"

Anaxa does not do any form of assigned seating because he knows his students are all adults, even when they don't act like ones.

But for the first time in a long time, he does consider when Hyacine does move to sit down, usually next to Castorice. This isn’t his biggest problem, they’re rather well-behaved on their own; it arises when you sit next to Castorice, and he is sat next to you, that this cursed lineup allows for decreased efficiency on everyone’s part.

But still, he doesn’t believe himself to be that petty (for his standards), the sage has much more proficient ways at getting desired results from his students.

“You,” Anaxa had murmured, leaning in closer to his student’s seat to distribute the work,“Cannot pick the same partner you had last time for this assignment.”

The Heir tilted his head slightly, eyes narrow in thought.

“That's fine,” Phainon assured quickly, “Can I have—”

“No,” He drawled, cutting off his line of thinking, knowing exactly where he was planning to go with it. “In fact, starting today, I've decided you no longer have the option to pick at all.”

This got the boy's attention, prompting the same nervous smile Anaxa remembered he made on the first day. A little pathetic. If not a calculative move (One that likely works on the softhearted, not that he'd know).

“Professor! Let's not be rash. You said this would take weeks to complete, right?”

“I did. And you're not worming yourself out of this, if that's what you're planning. Find someone else that'll humor your nonsense.”

The heretic hears him groan before moving on to the next desk.

✧.*

“You did a fairly decent job. But I can't help but feel as though this isn't aligned with what you normally give me.” The sage sighs, handing the content back. The room was quiet, no other sounds except you and the other girls talking outside the door, waiting for your companion to be dismissed.

“Must've not been using your good eye when you graded this…” The fainter edges of Phainon's silver snow hair dances in the draft flowing through the room, contrasting the disappointed look on his face.

“What was that?”

“Huh? What was what? You're always hearing things, Professor. It scares everyone, including me.” Amusing. Déjà vu, Anaxa is sure he feels. Who else taught him to talk like that?

… No matter. “You don’t think I don’t notice how… disinterested you are when you don’t get what you want?”

“I… don't suppose you'll tell me what that means.” Phainon smiles, as gently as ever (His ears are a different story, the tips flushing with warmth).

“Don’t look so lost. I meant your topic paper, obviously. You're upset because they were random.”

“Right! I just hate not knowing ahead of time.”

Right.

It was one of the casual conversations with the Chrysos Heir that Dan Heng has had frequently with him since arriving. This time, he was treated with some eatery at near the Market that he was thoroughly enjoying, nothing like on any of the other planets he’s been to so far. He had been able to gleam details about everyone else within the Deliverer’s inner circle, and it had eventually fallen to you. At first, they were helpful tidbits, like how they were for the other heirs before you, until they became less and less relevant as the discussion about you went on. Now, for whatever reason, Dan Heng knows exactly what kinds of sweets you like.

“[Name] likes everything cold. Anytime I get them something fresh, they always expect me to chill it first—and I do, of course. Even if it’s right from the oven, they’ll wait for at least half an hour before taking a bite out of it. They prefer ice cream over everything else, so in that regard, they’re pretty easy to shop for.”

Sure, why not. Maybe there’ll be an instance where he’s talking to you and this information can be appropriately applied.

“I’ll make sure to tell Stelle this, it seems they’ve been getting along well, and she’d probably like knowing that,” He responds, “I’m not sure what it is, but she’s been rather intent on impressing them.”

Phainon was chugging his water down mid-sentence, until it reached the end, and he had abruptly stopped. Blue eyes wide as he took the implication in, then narrow with a furrow as his brows as he looked off to the side, tentatively putting the glass down.

“Is that so?”

Oh, if only he knew. Anytime Curtain Hour would fall and Stelle would retreat to the chambers, half of what the trailblazer would talk about would be included, but not limited to, how she found something while taking a “quick” once over at the trash, how she got too full off of dinner and thought she was going to pass out, how she almost fell into the fountain near Kephale’s mural because some child tried to push her in and tried fighting them; and the other half being you.

“Dan Heng, I had the greatest day today, you’ll never guess what happened.”

“… What?”

“You’re so boring, you never try guessing! But whatever, they laughed at something I said. Like, knee-slapping, head on my shoulder, full laugh. It’s super cute, you should hear it one day. Do you wanna guess what I said?”

“No.”

“Ugh!”

“Yes, and we’ve had the honor of meeting a lot of people. I don’t think there’s been another time I’ve seen her as… giggly as she is now.” Which is saying a lot. Stelle giggles at a lot of things.

Phainon laughs quietly, perhaps amused at the notion of this poor outlander falling as much as she has in such a short span of time, or perhaps because of something else the Nameless wasn’t sure he wanted to get into the deeper meaning of for his own sake (Albeit much too late, even alluding towards anything has him caught in something he’s not sure how he got into).

"Mhm, that’s makes sense. I don’t blame her at all for feeling that way towards them. I mean, they’re smart, they always did well in class. It’s a talent, really, that they managed to stay on our professor’s good side for as long as they did. And they have the nicest smile too, don’t you agree? Especially when—"

Dan Heng wishes he never opened this box. Now there’s two of them (And he’s not sure what he got Stelle into, either).

[slattlicker]

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * garden variety ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: she brings him vegetables. he’s halfway to proposing. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

✧✧✧

it’s thursday.

he knows it’s thursday because you’re on his porch again, holding a woven basket like a goddamn fairytale princess.

“bit of a heavy harvest,” you say, breathless and sweet, as he opens the door. “figured i’d share.”

you always do. every week.

and he always forgets how to speak for half a second when you smile at him like that.

“right,” he says, clearing his throat. “thanks.”

you hand it over. warm fingers brushing his. the basket smells like mint and basil and whatever the hell else you’re growing out there in your magical little eden. you nod, already halfway down the steps.

“enjoy, neighbor!”

he watches you go. doesn’t mean to. definitely doesn’t watch the sway of your hips or the way your hair catches the sunlight.

definitely not.

✧

he sets the basket on the counter like it’s fragile. sacred.

squash. tomatoes. green beans. three eggplants. a bundle of herbs tied in twine with a tiny paper tag that just says “best in sauces!”

he stares at it all like it’s a puzzle he doesn’t know how to solve.

“okay,” he mutters. “okay, big guy. you got this.”

he googles what to cook with vegetables when you don’t really like vegetables but a very pretty girl keeps giving them to you and you wanna impress her without looking like a loser.

no helpful results.

he tries again. something simpler.

"ratatouille?" he reads aloud. "...that little mouse movie?"

✧

an hour later he’s covered in tomato guts, there’s something smoking on the stovetop, and his smoke alarm is judging him with every obnoxious beep.

an hour later, he’s covered in tomato guts, his kitchen looks like a war zone, and he’s pretty sure he accidentally invented a new spice blend by sneezing too close to the herbs.

but the ratatouille’s done. it’s steaming on the stove in his nicest (least chipped) ceramic dish. and it smells... kinda incredible.

he wipes his hands on a towel. runs it through his hair. and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s already out the door.

✧

you open it before he finishes knocking.

“schlatt?”

“hey. uh.” he clears his throat. “so... i made ratatouille.”

a blink. a pause. you tilt your head, confused.

“with the stuff you gave me,” he adds quickly. “and—i was wondering, like—if you’re not busy or anything—maybe you’d wanna come over? have some with me?”

you blink again. then smile, wide and bright.

“wait, really? you cooked?”

he nods, scratching the back of his neck. “gave it my best shot.”

"if that's what i've been smelling all afternoon," you lean against the door frame, nose crinkling. “it smells amazing.”

a beat. then, softer—

“i’d love to.” you glance down at your own basket. “should I bring dessert?”

he laughs, breathless. “not unless you grew chocolate in there.”

you nudge him with your shoulder as you step out.

“give me five minutes to grab a sweater. i think i might have a good baguette from yesterday to pair with it, too...so don’t start without me.”

he watches you go, dazed. grinning like an idiot.

and yeah—

maybe he overcooked the eggplant. maybe he’ll burn the toast. maybe the whole thing’ll be a mess.

but you’re coming over.

you said yes.

and maybe, if he’s lucky, he won’t just get a taste of dinner tonight.

maybe he’ll get a taste of you, too.

✧✧✧

[billiesguitar]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

Stalker!billie x innocent!reader || ch.1 ||

warnings - stalking(don't do this plz)

(Billie's pov )

Beautiful.

that's all i could think as i watched her from a distance. she had no idea that i knew every little thing about her, that i studied her every move, her every smile, her every tear. she was so oblivious to the world around her, so lost in her own little bubble, that she never noticed how i was everywhere. to be completely transparent, i don't know what compels me to do this, following her around, taking pictures, obsessing over her, i don't know why i do it, i just do it. it's like some sort of magnetic pull, something inside of me that screams for more of her, something that keeps me coming back for more.

it had been our first week of university, orientation week, where we hung out, met new people, got situated, and whatever else normal people did. i decided to take a... different approach, not by choice, but by necessity. i had noticed her from the moment she stepped into the auditorium for the welcome assembly. she had the kind of aura that drew everyone in, made them question who she was, made them insecure, made them ask her out without knowing her properly. i just sat back and took notes on every little gimmick or bit or habit she had.

her name was y/n. i had followed her from class to class, lurked in the shadows as she went to the library, sat outside her dorm at night as she studied with the light on, and watched her as she slept. i know, it's creepy, but i couldn't help it, i needed her to be safe, needed to make sure she was okay. she was just so... innocent like bambi or something. i had to protect her from all the shit that was out there in the world.

every night i'd go home and write down everything she did, everything she said, every person she talked to, and i'd analyze it all, trying to piece together the puzzle of y/n. i have a whole notebook in my room dedicated to her, filled with pictures and notes and writing. she's 5'0, doesn't drink much out of personal choice, she loves to paint and sing, she likes painting her nails different colors, she loves coffee and shopping and music and has 3 siblings, 2 brothers and a sister. whenever she's nervous she touches her neck or when she's excited she swings on her feet. i know most things about her and she still knows nothing about me.

-

first day of classes, i decided to take a seat next to her in our english lit class. she had no idea who i was, of course, but she gave me a polite smile as she sat down. i took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. this was it, the closest i had ever been to her. the scent of her perfume filled my nose and i couldn't help but lean in slightly to get a better whiff. she smelled like vanilla and coconut, a heavenly combination that i had never smelled before.

"hi," she said softly, her eyes scanning my face for recognition. "i think i've seen you around. i'm y/n."

"oh," i said, playing it cool, trying not to let my excitement show. "i'm billie. it's nice to meet you."

y/n nodded, her eyes flicking back down to the book in her lap. i studied her from the corner of my eye, noting the way she played with the hem of her shirt as she listened to the professor drone on about the syllabus. she was so focused, so intense, that it was hard not to be captivated by her.

the class eventually ended and she began to pack up her things.

"need help with anything?" i offered, hoping she'd say yes.

"no, i'm good," she replied with a smile. "but thanks for asking."

as we walked out of the classroom together, she turned to me.

"do you know where the art building is?" she asked.

i nodded, "yeah, i can show you."

y/n's eyes lit up with relief and she fell into step beside me. we talked about our majors and hometowns, and i found myself getting lost in the sound of her voice, the way she talked with her hands, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about painting. it was like nothing else in the world mattered except for her.

when we got to the art building, she thanked me and went inside. i watched her go, feeling a strange mix of happiness and sadness. happiness because i had just had a real conversation with her, and sadness because i knew i had to let her go, for now.

but i couldn't stay away for long.

that night, i found myself outside her dorm again, watching her through the window. she was singing to herself, her voice a soft melody that floated out into the night air. i leaned closer, trying to make out the words, feeling a warmth spread through me as i did so. it was a strange feeling, one i had never felt before.

the next day, i was sitting outside her dorm when she walked out. she looked surprised to see me.

"hi again," i said, smiling.

"hi billie," she said, looking around nervously. "what are you doing here?"

"reading," i lied, trying to seem casual. "what about you?"

"oh, i'm just going to grab some lunch," she said, looking down at her watch, "i've got class in like 10 minutes so i've gotta rush" she added, looking a bit flustered. "see you around."

"see ya," i said, watching her go.

but i couldn't stay away. i followed her to the cafeteria, watching her from a safe distance as she ate with her friends. she laughed at something one of them said, and i felt a pang in my chest. i wanted to be the one making her laugh like that, the one she confided in, the one she leaned on.

as the days turned into weeks, our interactions became more frequent. we'd run into each other in the halls, at the library, and even at the coffee shop on campus. each time, she'd greet me with a smile, and each time i'd fall a little bit more in love with her.

but i knew i had to keep my distance. if she ever found out what i was doing, she'd be terrified of me. so, i contented myself with watching her from afar, taking in every little detail, every little gesture, and storing it away in the back of my mind.

—————

AU Masterlist

[kickbackkanzaki]

The Dungeon Master and Chess Queen

You're the new student and chess captain at Hawkins High. When Eddie Munson asks you for tutoring you're certain you have him handled but you may have underestimated his strategy.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

"Eddie! Hey Eddie!" Dustin call and waved his had in front of Eddie's fixed eyes.

"Forget it, he's watching his girlfriend again," Gareth said between bites of his sandwich.

"Huh what?" Eddie jolted out of his trance and blinked at the Hellfire Club who were all staring at him.

"We were asking about the next campaign but you were too busy staring at Max's pretty friend," Mike explained in an annoyed tone.

You were sitting at a table across the cafeteria occupied by a motley mix of Robin, some of her band friends, a few chess club members and Max who was having her fire red hair tamed into a braid by your practised fingers.

"His girlfriend," Dustin repeated with a giggle.

"She's not my girlfriend," Eddie shot his young follower down, "I've never even spoken to her."

"You've been staring at her for weeks and you haven't talked once? Since when are you shy?" Dustin batted back and the whole table waited for an answer.

"It's not what you think," Eddie answered boredly.

"Sure dude."

"No really, she's up to something," the club leader came clean because there was no way Dustin would drop the subject otherwise. "People are always whispering to her and she hands out lunch bags randomly. It's weird."

"Maybe they're just hungry?"

"Think bigger Henderson. She's got a business going on."

"Why do you care?" Mike asked.

He didn't really care much for anyone's relationships since his own girlfriend had moved to California.

"Because Wheeler," Eddie answered impatiently. "I've spent six years building my cliental at this school and I'm not about to lose it to some new chick with a chess fetish."

"Dude," Jeff had just demolished his lunch and could finally talk. "Your balls are heavy and it's making you crazy. Just go ask her out before one of the basketball douchbags do."

The Hellfire Club's laughter was cut short when their leader's fist slammed the table.

"See! See!" Eddie half stood out of his seat and pointed across the cafeteria at you. "It's happening now."

A girl had approached you and said something that made you stop braiding and pull an item from your shoulder bag wrapped in brown paper.

Only because they were watching so intensely did the Hellfire Club see the crumpled note passed discretely between you two.

"That is it!" Eddie bellowed and shook the table so hard all the cafeteria plates jumped. "I'm putting an end to this now!"

The attention the Dungeon and Dragons players were giving you went totally unnoticed by yourself. Most of the time at school you dissociated mentally, preferring to solve puzzles in silence than listen to the state certified lessons.

But you enjoyed the company of your patchwork friends so you put up with the classes and cafeteria babble.

The first thing you'd done when you enrolled in Hawkins High was locate the chess club and challenge the reigning president for his position. He had demanded you win a simultaneous exhibit which you did by nailing all dozen club members in an hour.

Robin had been paired with you for chemistry and she'd won you over with her natural spunk and charm. Musical talent wasn't something you possessed but her band friends were nice and helped you navigate the school hierarchy.

You'd noticed Max pretty quickly as it was hard to miss that flaming hair. You sensed she was struggling with more than just the adjustment to freshman year and had taken her under your wing.

She'd pushed back at first, not wanting anyone to interfere with her problems but you persisted and she realised you wanted to support her, not fix her.

Max had booed braids as girly and dumb when you first offered to style her hair but after she read the books you loaned her on Viking women she'd relented.

You were so focused on keeping Max's hair threads even you didn't notice Eddie Munson sideling up to you holding his lunchbox.

"Have you got a moment?" he asked as everyone at the table stopped to stare at "The Freak" in his regular outfit of denim and leather.

"Sorry comrade," you said without looking up. "I am currently tackling a very complicated reverse braid and I have my friend Owen in check. So unless you can speed one of these along you'll have to come back later."

Eddie watched your fast hands weaving Max's hair for a few moments and decided to try the chess board instead. You had lost more pieces than Owen but your remaining ones were stronger. At the moment your queen and rook had Owen's king pinned and his other pieces were no support.

Eddie reached over and moved the trapped king in a direction Owen hadn't considered. You looked over for a second then knocked the king flat with a bishop you had been hiding in the back flank.

"Aww screw you man!" Owen whined and slumped back in his chair.

You and Max laughed and the final touches were added to Max's hairdo.

"There," you said handing her a mirror from your bag. "A true Valkyrie."

"So can we talk now?" Eddie asked naggingly.

"Alright," you said with a shrug and put the mirror back in your bag. "I'll see you in the carpark after school Max."

You gathered your things and followed Eddie out of the cafeteria and through the corridors to an out of order bathroom.

Without inhibitions you passed the door he held open for you and lent against a sink while Eddie made sure the cubicles were empty.

You only knew Eddie Munson by reputation and you were doubtful anything about that reputation was factual. Some had said he was into the occult and dangerous but you were yet to believe it.

So far he just seemed like a board game nerd who blew his eardrums out to metal music.

Satisfied you were alone Eddie kept a polite distance by a cubicle door and put on an professional expression.

"I'm all for empowering women in business but you need to stop," he began. "I've built a trusting relationship with the buyers here and I can't allow an interloper to come in and ruin it. So please, stay out of my territory."

For a moment you were both dead still and only a dripping tap could be heard.

"I think we have a misunderstanding," you said slowly breaking the silence and tried not to smile at his seriousness.

"I've seen your hustle lady," Eddie changed tactics and tried to sound suave. "Sneaking around handing out lunch bags like a suburban mummy. Only difference between us is I have more style."

You had a laugh a bit then. He was so serious it was adorable. The bell rang and you knew you had to resolve this misunderstanding quick.

"Come and see what I'm dealing and you'll understand I am no threat to your enterprise," you said with a smirk.

"Now?" Eddie asked uncertainly as a mass of students moved passed the door. "We'll be tardy."

"Come on, live dangerously," you teased with a wink.

You waited until the halls emptied and classroom doors closed then motioned for Eddie to follow. Both of you kept your footsteps light and peeked around each corner before scurrying towards the janitor's closet.

Eddie kept an eye out as you unfolded two hairpins from your pocket and worked the lock. After a bit of delicate maneuvering the lock popped and you both slipped inside, hitting the light switch as you went.

Eddie stood back as you dropped your bag and went over to a heating vent in the floor. The cover came loose with little effort and you pulled out a cardboard box.

Intrigued, Eddie stepped closer to take a cautious look at the contents.

"I deal in the most dangerous of contraband," you whispered seductively then theatrically opened the box.

"Books?"

"Brilliant books," you corrected and handed him a stack.

Eddie fumbled with the load then flipped through the pile reading each title aloud.

"Catcher in the Rye, The Colour Purple, The Bluest Eye, hang on why do I know these?" Eddie rarely read anything outside of fantasy but these were familiar to him.

He spied a bright red book in the box and the penny dropped.

"Holy shit!" he jumped on the spot and snatched the novel up. "This is the one they were picketing on the news!"

"The Handmaid's Tale," you said with a sagacious nod. "A frighteningly believable premonition of women's future. I've got a waiting list as long as my arm for that one."

"These are all banned aren't they? Is that what you've been dealing in? Illegal literature?"

"Ten dollars to loan, twenty to buy," you said and took the novels back to carefully replaced them in their box.

"I guess I owe you an apology," Eddie confessed and started smiling.

He was embarrassed to admit his spying and conspiracy theories had been paranoia but he could see the funny side to it. Eddie was man enough to admit when he'd made a fool of himself.

It was a nice smile you thought. Eddie's brown eyes warmed and you could feel your defensive shield melting a little. His leather jacket and demonic jewellery was just a facade too fool simple minds. Which accounted for most of the student body.

'Stop that,' you warned yourself when you started looking at his soft lips. 'It's a trap.'

"I thought you were dealing drugs but this is way more dangerous. Like state crime dangerous."

"Don't get turned on," you warned and tried to stop thinking of that smile. "In a small town there is no greater crime than new ideas."

"Baby you're speaking my language."

You were about to cuss him out for that moniker when there was a pounding on the door.

"Mr Munson!" came a shout. "I know you're in there! Unlock this door immediately!"

"What the fuck?" you gasped and quickly returned the contraband to its hiding place.

"Principal Higgins," Eddie blanched and his eyes rounded like a frightened deer. "He's been watching me all week. I think someone snitched on me."

Another bang rattled the door frame and you both backed into the tool shelf.

"Mr Munson! Open this door!"

Eddie looked down anxiously at his lunchbox with its hidden compartment full of weed. Higgins had searched his bag and locker heaps of times but he'd never suspected the unstylish lunch pail. If Higgins was to catch him holding it now...

He could see his underwhelming future flashing before his eyes. Expulsion, community service sentence, Wayne shaking his head in disappointment, a job cleaning septic tanks, alone on the couch every Friday feeding his beer gut, a funeral with three mourners.

"Final warning!" Higgins yelled then speaking to someone outside said in a quieter voice, "Unlock it."

"Drop your pants," you ordered as you snatched the lunch pail from Eddie's hand and dropped it on the tool shelf behind you.

"What?" Eddie asked frantically.

"Just do it!" you barked and grabbed his denim vest with both hands.

A second later maintenance man Sergio and Principal Higgins opened the door to see you kissing Eddie Munson madly. Your legs were wrapped tight around his waist as his hands gripped your arse tight under your skirt.

Your fingers were tangled in his hair which smelt fresh and clean to your surprise. You had expected the brown triffid to be knotty and full of crumbs but it was fabulous like a lion's mane.

Eddie's breathing was laboured as he strained holding you and tried not to trip on the jeans around his ankles. Your intimate proximity was overwhelming him and he was struggling to balance the conflicting feelings of fear and arousal.

The skin around your underwear was cool and firm in his hands but your lips were warm and soft. Only millimeters of fabric separated your privates and he could feel your heat warming his sensitive area.

"My office now!" Principal Higgins yelled and Sergio made his escape muttering about needing to be somewhere else.

With the mood instantly killed you dropped out of Eddie's hold and he rushed to pull his pants up. He had the decency to look embarrassed by the compromising situation but you were struggling not to smile at the principal's disapproving glare.

You enjoyed the childish thrill of upsetting authority figures, a fault you should grow out of but probably wouldn't.

You and Eddie were marched into the principal's office where you were subjected to a scolding about playing hooky, inappropriate behaviour and worst of all, not showing the proper school spirit.

Eddie took your hand as you sat side by side opposite Principal Higgins. You went to pull away but he winked and you realised he was trying to maintain the lovers charade.

The heat of your palm warmed the metal rings and his long fingers nearly enclosed your whole hand they were so long.

You zoned out for most of what Principal Higgins said, these speeches were liked cracked records to you now. Not that you incited trouble, it's just that you stood up for yourself - something an institution that demands blind obedience disliked.

"-don't let him influence you with his underachieving behaviour."

"Hang on what?" you were suddenly reengaged in the conversation. "Did you just take a swipe at Eddie?"

"Leave it darlin'," you hear Eddie mumble behind a pensive hand gesture.

"No, no," your irritation was up. "What do you mean underachieving? Eddie is in three of my classes and he shows up to every one on time. He shuts up, does his work and answers questions. Underachieving is how I'd describe those basketball Neanderthals who stumble in late and butcher Shakespeare."

Last week you had to sit through a double period of English where the basketball goons has sniggered as every mention of "ass" in A Midsummer Night's Dream.

"You're still new to this school," Higgins had changed his tone to one for a simpleton. "You may not know this is Mr Munson's third attempt at graduation."

"Which is brilliant," you said imitating his tone. "Most people would just give up."

Eddie squeezed your hand warningly but you were on a roll. Everything the principal said now was lubricant for your bulldozer.

Principal Higgins pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He had heard about this in the staff room. How you took to an argument with the ferocity of a bulldog and pulled a verbal knife on any bully who crossed your path.

"You are one of our best students," he began.

"Oh piss off," you shot him down before he could continue. "I get the best grades but I'm an awful student. Which is why I never get approached for extra advancement or early college admission. You give all that to the 'best' students who are spoon fed conformists while the students who put in twice the work just to keep up get ignored."

"We accommodate every student," Higgins puffed his chest up defensively.

"No you don't!" you said louder and now you were the one squeezing Eddie's hand.

"The only college scouts who come here are after athletes. Art subjects are undersupplied, the library hasn't a single book published this decade and our history textbooks are written from a very biased, white, male view. Less than half of graduates go to college, most stay in Hawkins and find blue collar work. These kids are falling into apathy because you're putting all your attention on the golden children."

"You're suspended for the rest of the week," Higgins couldn't argue with you so he resorted to punishment. "I'll be calling your father."

"You'll wish you hadn't," you chuckled and grabbed your bag.

"You need to wait while I do the paperwork!" Higgins called as you walked to the door.

"Send me a fax," you replied nonchalantly and after a second remembered you were supposed to be madly in love with Eddie Munson.

"Farewell my darling," you said with longing and blew him a kiss.

Eddie caught it and held it over heart. He smiled again triggering a tingling sensation on your skin and you had a flashback to your tongue tickling his.

'Don't,' you warned yourself. 'You don't need the trouble.'

But you were going to get into a lot of trouble.

[parkjihoonswifey]

🐍 anon here!

I was reading a whc ff when I got the idea of “why not have Suho meet someone at the hospital after he wakes up from his coma” a strangers to friends to lovers kind of thought.

Just pure pure fluff cause god he needs everything good to happen to him after whc 1 💔.

(Love your works as always!!)

A/N: my love, my pretty, my 🐍 anon. I've been working so hard on a different blog ( @skzdominate check it out) that I ended up closing requests for this one and not fulfilling anything. when I logged back in and saw my baby requested I knew I had to write this immediately.

p.s Tumblr gave me a content label. thanks a lot guys 🙏🏾

Title: Room 207

Pairings: post coma! suho x sick! reader

Warnings: sickness?? idk

The first thing Suho feels is weightlessness. The second is pain.

Not sharp, but dull and constant — like his body’s been asleep for too long and only now remembers what it means to be alive. The lights are too bright, and the hum of machines too loud. There’s a comforting scent in the air. Clean linens. The faintest trace of flowers.

He’s in a hospital.

His eyes adjust slowly, and he becomes aware of the IV in his arm, the stiff ache behind his eyes, the tug in his chest with every breath. And then, a soft voice, somewhere to his right.

“Oh— You’re awake.”

His head turns sluggishly, and that’s when he sees you.

You're in the chair by the window, blanket over your legs, a nasal cannula tucked under your nose. A paperback book is resting in your lap. You’re not wearing hospital clothes, but your skin is pale, your eyes a little tired. Still, you smile — gentle and real.

“I was wondering when you’d open your eyes,” you say, voice light, like this is normal.

“…Do I know you?” Suho asks, raspier than intended.

You chuckle. “No. I’m in the room next door. They said you might wake up soon, and I figured someone should be here when you did.”

“…Why?”

You shrug. “I don’t like being alone when I wake up. Thought maybe you wouldn’t either.”

It takes a while for it all to register. But even through the haze in his mind, he knows you’re sincere. And for some reason, that truth — that kindness — is the first thing that makes his chest hurt in a different way.

“…Thanks.”

You tilt your head. “What’s your name?”

“Suho,” he says.

You smile again. “I’m Y/N.”

And just like that, something shifts. Quietly, but irrevocably.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

Suho learns things in pieces.

He learns he’s been unconscious for weeks, maybe longer. He learns that the world moved on while he slept, but not too far — the school year hasn’t ended yet, the sun still rises and sets.

He also learns that you're always there.

At first, he thinks it’s coincidence. Maybe you're just passing by, and you wave through the window or knock on the door. But soon it becomes a rhythm—your gentle knock at nine in the morning, your book in hand, your blanket slung over one shoulder.

You never stay long. Sometimes just ten minutes. Sometimes more. But it’s enough.

He finds out you have a chronic lung condition — something you joke about, though it clearly wears on you. You’ve been in and out of hospitals your whole life, and this time’s no different.

“Isn’t it boring?” Suho asks one day. “Sitting with someone who can barely move?”

You raise a brow. “Better than being bored alone. And I like talking to you.”

He wants to say the same. Wants to admit that your presence has become the only part of his days that feels warm. But Suho’s not great with feelings. Not yet.

Instead, he just nods. And you smile, and go back to reading aloud from the book you brought.

Days become weeks.

Suho starts healing — slowly. He’s able to sit up on his own. The scars don’t hurt as badly. And every time you show up, it feels less like chance and more like routine.

You bring puzzles. Movies. Candy you’re not supposed to eat but sneak him anyway.

“You’re kind of a bad influence,” he teases.

You stick out your tongue. “You love it.”

He does.

It’s terrifying how easily your laughter becomes the background music to his recovery.

Sometimes, he finds you asleep in the chair beside his bed, arms curled around a pillow, chest rising and falling too lightly. He wants to wake you, but never does. Instead, he tucks the blanket tighter around you, heart full of something quiet and tender.

He doesn't know what this is — this friendship, this comfort — but it feels like hope.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

One rainy afternoon, you show up with wet hair and a flushed nose.

Suho frowns. “You’re sick. You shouldn’t be out in this weather.”

“I live here, remember?” you sniffle, pulling the blanket up to your chin. “Besides. You’d be bored without me.”

He scowls, but his voice is soft. “You need to take care of yourself.”

You blink, a little stunned by the sincerity. Then, softly, “So do you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his hand drifts toward yours on the bed. His fingers brush against yours — hesitant, unsure.

You intertwine them.

The room is quiet except for the rain tapping the windows and the steady, shared rhythm of your breath.

That night, he can’t sleep.

He keeps thinking about your hand in his. How natural it felt. How scared he is that your smile might disappear when he leaves this place.

The door creaks open sometime after midnight, and your silhouette appears.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whisper. “Can I stay?”

He nods.

You settle into the chair beside him, blanket and all. He watches you tuck yourself in like it’s your second bed. And it kind of is. You’ve made this place feel like home.

“Suho?” you say after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you woke up.”

He turns his head to look at you. Your eyes are closed, but your words hang in the air like something sacred.

“…Me too.”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

Your stay is extended.

Something about your lungs not recovering fast enough. Your doctor is cautious. You’re frustrated, but you don’t complain to Suho. Instead, you say, “At least I get to bother you a little longer.”

He doesn’t say it, but he’s relieved.

You both fall into the routine even more deeply now — breakfast in his room, trying to help him walk, movie marathons with one earbud each, inside jokes that no one else would understand.

He even learns how to make those dumb origami cranes you’re obsessed with. Your room fills with them — on your tray table, taped to the wall, tucked under your pillow.

One afternoon, he finds a folded pink one with a small note inside: “thank you for making me laugh again.”

He keeps it under his pillow.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The shift from strangers to friends was quiet.

The shift from friends to something else is quieter still.

Suho doesn’t even notice it at first — how his heart lifts when you walk in. How he always listens for your voice in the hallway. How the thought of leaving this place without you physically hurts.

He watches the way you tug at your sleeves when you’re nervous. The way you read with your lips moving silently. The way you look at him like he’s not broken at all.

He’s never had someone see him like that before.

And the more time he spends with you, the more he realizes he wants you to see all of him. Not just Suho the patient. Suho the fighter. Suho who made it out. Suho who was himself

Just… Suho.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The day eventually comes when the doctor tells him he can be discharged.

You smile when he tells you. “That’s amazing.”

He nods, but there’s hesitation in his chest. “…Yeah.”

Your smile falters a little. “You’ll be back at school soon. Back to real life.”

He doesn’t know how to say it — that this felt like real life. That it was the first time he didn’t have to wear armor around someone.

That leaving you feels like the hardest part.

You sit in silence for a while. The air is thick with something unsaid.

“…I’ll miss you,” you say quietly.

His heart cracks and fills all at once.

“I’ll miss you too.”

You reach into your blanket and hand him something. A folded crane, this one made of soft yellow paper.

Inside is a tiny note: “don’t forget me, okay?”

He swallows. “Never.”

Then, bold with the weight of everything he feels, he takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. Just once. Gentle. Barely there.

Your eyes widen, but you don’t pull away.

Instead, you smile — so softly he thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

Three weeks later, he comes back.

He walks down the hallway — stronger now, no IV, slight limp— holding a little paper bag.

He knocks on the door to Room 207, and when you answer, your face lights up.

“Suho?!”

“I brought you the strawberry milk you like.”

You laugh — startled, disbelieving. “You remembered?”

“I remember everything,” he says. Then, more shyly: “I was hoping we could… keep hanging out. Outside this place.”

Your cheeks flush pink. You reach for the milk, then for his hand.

“I’d like that,” you say.

And Suho — the boy who survived fist fights, violence, silence, and grief — realizes this might be the beginning of something even braver than healing:

Love.

A/N: did I break your heart be honest?? requests back open soon when I can push out enough requests now!!

[corruworks]

how did you get the inspiration to start making this game? and has your initial concept changed much since you started going further into detail? (i love this game btw)

hello anonymous!! I've touched on critical inspiration points in a few cohost asks, which I can link to and expand on a little:

I've had this world in my head for a very long time (not this specific iteration of it, but the obesk in general), and I was really depressed for a very long time because I wasn't sure how I'd ever share it with people (relevant post). eventually I got really pissed off that I was passing my mid-20s without manifesting it in any way, and just said 'use whatever skills you have, now, stop waiting or you will be in even more pain'. so that's how I got inspired to start it!

I have major story points planned, but leave the in-betweens open. this leads to fun things like Jokzi Ozo, which was not at all planned verbatim aside from 'there are lucid thoughtforms who want xyz' (relevant post)

BUT!!!!!!!!!!

the initial concept question is interesting, because yes, it has changed very much!! the story hasn't, the in-betweens have been unexpectedly fun to figure out while still being generally in-line, but the actual structure and mechanical integration of the story has been vastly changed from my original plans.

initially, I was really going to lean into a more Terminal 00 or Yume Nikki-type inspired experience of just adding a lot of pages, sometimes not always having very much on them, but all linked together in a big maze of memories to imply a world. It was mostly going to be flats with some 3D stages mixed in for important things. something I would update frequently, adding in a page here and there like once a week or more.

but then I kept hesitating to actually do it that way. I'd say "ok, let's add a new flat page" and then pause and think, "but what would it actually say that isn't already done on xyz page?" then I'd think, "this would be kind of disappointing to add on its own, no?"

so, I figured out I wasn't really into that sort of piecemeal building of the world. I love those inspirations, but ultimately I wanted to have something that was released in a condensed way and was very respectful of the visitor's time. (not to say that either of them aren't, but they both must be approached from very different mindsets compared to playing C.O. like you aren't re-entering a room 100 times to get a rare event to happen, and you aren't carefully mapping out a huge number of directories to try and puzzle out the story)

so I totally shifted focus into less breadth, more depth, as you probably could sense with the fucked up rabbit hole that the Embassy became. I still really dig the idea of having a vast exploration aspect to it, and in fact I still plan on doing something like it, but it won't be a part of the 'main episode' experience.

I think that's da whole story. thank you for playing, also!!

[ct7567329]

Just Five Minutes ~ Fives x F! Civilian Reader

Summary: Known as "Fleet Girl" throughout the 501st, you work as the Fleet Coordinator for the GAR. You might be skilled at positioning the Republic's Fleet across the galaxy, but you're also just as skilled at occupying the mind of a certain ARC Trooper. The feeling is mutual, but if you're going to let him know, you might as well make a statement doing so. Word Count: 6k Warnings: mutual pining, alcohol consumption, fingering, oral sex(m/f receiving), piv sex, aftercare (this fic is 18+!) A/N: This idea has been floating around in my head the SECOND I heard the song 15 Minutes by Sabrina Carpenter (listen here!) thank you, thank you, thank you @bigbadbatch for talking to me about fic ideas and helping spark the final idea for this plot! i owe you the world for this bc this might be one of my favorite things i've ever written. enjoy! <3 (note Jesse is not an ARC yet) join my taglist / masterlist

The message came through late. It was just past 1900 hours, when most of the day’s chaos was replaced by the usual neon buzz of Coruscant's night life along your walk home from work. You were still half-focused on the mental image of your terminal’s holomap projection, watching sector deployments shift in real time like some cruel, never-ending puzzle.

When you finally reached your apartment, you slumped onto your couch and pulled out your holo.

KIX: You should come out tonight.

You blinked, sinking further into the couch. Kix didn’t usually message you directly unless someone had a question about medevac protocols.

YOU: Define “out.”

His reply was swift.

KIX: Jesse and I are heading to 79’s. Whole squad, actually. Even Rex.

KIX: We haven’t seen you in weeks, so no excuses, you’re coming. We're already here, so see you soon!(Fives says bring your ‘tactical sass.’ Direct quote from him.)

You exhaled slowly, smile twitching despite yourself. Of course Fives said that. The 501st had just rotated back planetside after a brutal campaign along the Mid Rim. You’d been the one to coordinate the exit routes - making sure the Resolute didn’t bottleneck above Anaxes, that supply lines weren’t stranded, and that the 212th didn’t accidentally jump through a vector still marked “hostile.”

It had taken three sleepless nights and one very loud argument with a Jedi General who didn’t like being told his fleet orders were inefficient.

In hindsight, a drink didn’t sound so bad.

YOU: Give me twenty minutes.

KIX: That’s the spirit, Fleet Girl.

You rolled your eyes and stood, sauntering to your closet to pick an outfit for the night. Your fingers hovered over a soft slate grey top . It was clean, understated, and something you'd worn to briefings before. You dropped it immediately and reached for the other option. The one you didn’t wear for utility or protocol. The one you’d brought to Coruscant on a whim, never meaning to actually wear it.

The top was black, sheer, barely-there fabric that caught the light just enough to shimmer faintly. It was bold, dangerous. Underneath it, you opted for a deep black bandeau, with a subtle metallic glint when it moved. It clung to you in all the right ways.

You slid into the outfit, tugging it into place with a nervous tug at the hem. Then you reached for the tight black jeans folded neatly on the bottom shelf. As you zipped them up and looked at yourself again in the mirror, you hesitated. Was it too much? With Fives there, probably not.

You didn’t have words for what you and Fives were. Not yet at least, but every time he saw you, he watched you like you were something rare. Like you might disappear if he blinked. As you moved to the door, you caught your reflection one last time. You looked like a woman who had a plan. You weren’t entirely sure what that plan was yet, but you were sure about one thing. If Fives wasn’t already looking at you, he would be.

Twenty minutes later, the pulse of 79’s hit you like a warm slap. The music was thumping, the lights were low, the and familiar scent of sweat and synth-spice lingered in the air. The place was already packed, but it didn’t take long to spot the flash of blue armor in the far corner.

Jesse waved you over immediately, almost finished drink in hand. Kix grinned as he scooted over on the worn booth bench to make room. You hesitated only slightly before sliding in beside him.

“Didn’t think we’d get the mighty Fleet Organizer to slum it with the grunts,” Jesse smirked, raising his glass.

“Careful,” you winked, “I’ve reassigned men for less.”

That earned a laugh from both of them, and Kix leaned in a little as he handed you a drink. “We figured you deserved a night off.”

You nodded slowly, scanning the table. That's when you saw Fives.

He wasn’t in armor, none of them were, but somehow he still carried himself like a soldier in the middle of a battlefield. He was mid-conversation with Rex, one arm draped over the back of the booth and a grin curling at his mouth like he’d just told a joke that was meant to get him smacked. As if on cue, his eyes lifted and met yours across the table. He then turned back to Rex, his grin widening.

Kix didn’t miss it, “He’s been annoying all day."

“Fives?” you confirmed, taking a slow sip from your drink - which was horrible.

“Yeah. He wouldn’t shut up after Rex said you might stop by. Even tried to guess what color you’d wear," Kix huffed, “For the record, he was wrong.”

You dared a quick peek at Fives, before tugging at the corner of your top, dropping your voice to a teasing tone, "What? Is black not his color?"

Kix didn't even get to a chance to respond before Jesse started dragging people toward the karaoke machine, “You’ve got five minutes before I pick something embarrassing for you!” he shouted over the music, jabbing a finger at Kix.

“Like you didn’t already have a duet picked out,” Kix muttered, pushing up from the booth. He looked at you and winked, “Just wait.”

You stayed put as the group began to thin out, clones laughing, elbowing one another as they jockeyed for position in front of the machine. The screen glowed a soft blue, cycling through song titles from every system in the Core.

Someone started booing as Jesse scrolled through options. Fives was still seated, lounging at the end of the booth, half-watching the chaos unfold.

He glanced sideways, catching your eye again, “You surprised me." His voice was just loud enough to reach you over the music.

You arched an eyebrow, “How’s that?”

“Didn’t think you’d come.”

“Didn’t think I’d be welcome.”

Fives chuckled, “Oh please. Kix practically worships the ground you walk on. Jesse might be in love with even your datapad. And me-” he paused, swirling his drink in his hand, “-well, I like a woman who can reassign an entire fleet with one signature.”

You snorted, “I only did that once and the troopers were very dramatic about it.”

He gave you an exaggerated eye roll, “You sent us to Akiva during monsoon season.”

“You needed air support and a clear route to pull the civilians. I needed you off Ryloth before the Seppies rerouted their fleet. It was a strategic win.”

“Well it was muddy,” he groaned, waving over a service droid for another drink.

You smiled into your glass, “Sounds like my statement about you guys being dramatic stands correct, ARC trooper.”

His grin widened like he’d just won something, “So you do know my rank.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference, “I know a lot of things.”

That caught him for a beat. His gaze drifted lower, briefly, before he leaned in just a little, his forearms resting on the table.

“Well, here’s something you don’t know,” he teased, “I’ve been trying to think of an excuse to talk to you all night.”

Your eyes drifted up to the ceiling, “You needed an excuse?”

Fives blinked, but before he could fire something back, Jesse’s voice cut through the room like a vibroblade.

“Behold the long awaited duet! A masterpiece of musical dysfunction!” The lights dimmed a little around the machine. Jesse struck a dramatic pose as the intro blared through the speakers - some loud, ridiculous ballad with high notes Kix had no business attempting.

The entire booth burst into laughter. Even Rex cracked a rare smile, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall behind them. Kix somehow made it through the first chorus without combusting. Jesse took every beat like he was on a stage in the Galaxies Opera House.

You laughed, real and full, your arm brushing Fives’ in the tight booth space. Neither of you pulled away.

“I didn’t think Rex would come out,” you noted between laughs.

Fives glanced at his brother, then back at you., “He doesn’t, usually. But Jesse told him you might.”

Your lip quirked, “And that worked?”

Fives tilted his head, “You’re good at your job and seem fun outside work, but you don’t exactly make it easy to know you.”

You looked down at your drink, “It’s not personal.”

Fives sighed as 79's erupted in laughs and applause. Jesse and Kix’s duet finally ended in dramatic, off key glory.

“Alright, alright, someone get Rex up there,” Fives called out loudly, already grinning in anticipation.

“Not a chance,” Rex grunted from his corner.

“Oh come on, you owe us after the long deployment,” Jesse shouted into the mic.

Rex raised an eyebrow, a smirk slowly spreading across his face, “If anyone’s going next, it’s little miss Fleet Girl over here.”

You nearly choked on your drink, Fives too. But Rex just continued to sip his drink and looked straight at you, “I think we’d all like to see what you've got.”

Fives recovered fast - almost too fast - his grin sliding back into place as he swiveled to face you, “Yeah, tactical sass and all. Let’s see it in action.”

You gave him a sharp look, “Still bitter about Akiva?”

“I still have mud in places I won’t name.”

Now, the whole 501st is looking in your direction. You set down your glass, “You boys really want drinks and a show?”

Rex tipped his head towards you, “We’re listening.”

You smiled slowly, dangerously, as you stood, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Jesse gasped, clutching the mic like he’d just been given a promotion to ARC Trooper, “Rex, I love you.”

The table whooped as you sauntered past them. You barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You moved like the drinks hadn’t hit you at all with deliberate steps toward the console. The lights of 79’s shifted, soft blues and pinks catching in the shimmer of your black top. You didn’t need to look to know Fives was watching you.

You tapped into the song list manually. No one caught the title right away. Not until it loaded onto the screen.

“15 Minutes by Sabrina Carpenter?” Jesse announced to the table, “Oof, who hurt her?”

You adjusted the mic and let the intro play. Your gaze slid to Fives once. He was still in the booth, but when your eyes met his, he suddenly went very, very still. You smirked. He had no idea what was coming.

"The clock is tickin' lately

Guess that means I'm doin' something right

Been here a long time, baby

But gosh, I hope I make it through the night"

The first verse hits low and teasing. The lights above shifted again, throwing a soft violet hue across your skin, catching the sheer fabric of your top in a way that made your confidence look effortless, even if your heart was racing beneath it all as you moved onto the second verse.

"It's fleetin' like my battery life

Hard to hold on to like every guy

When you're hot, it's just a matter of time"

Your voice wasn't technically perfect, but it was smoky and sure, like it had been pulled straight from a cantina lounge on the upper levels. You sang the verse like you were telling a secret, like every word had a target. By the time the first chorus arrived, you saw him. It was go time.

Fives leaned forward in the booth, elbows on his knees, mouth parted slightly. He hadn’t blinked since the first note. Not even Rex’s amused glance beside him broke his focus.

"But I can do a lot with fifteen minutes just five minutes

Lot of pretty boys, lot of funny business

Take a couple bucks, turn 'em into millions

You, you, you know I-"

You altered the lyric, and as you did, you winked right at him.

Fives choked in his drink as Kix thumped his back once, half-laughing. Jesse let out an obnoxious OHHHHHHHHH!!! so loud someone from another table joined in without even knowing why, but you didn’t break rhythm. You kept singing the chorus.

"I can do a lot with fifteen minutes just five minutes

Only gonna take two to make you finish

Piss some people off, show 'em what they're missin'

You, you, you know I can-"

Rex's hands were cupped around his mouth, presumably covering how low his jaw dropped, his eyes darting between you and Fives. You let your voice curl and dip in the next verse, pouring the teasing ache into each line like you were writing it just for him.

Your eyes found his again. This time though, he wasn’t smirking. His jaw was tight and his gaze was like fire caught under glass. He looked like a man trying very hard not to do something reckless and maker, that made you sing even better.

The chorus came around again with another lyric swap and another deliberate wink. His grip on the edge of the table was now white-knuckled. You weren’t just singing anymore, you were practically hunting him.

By the final chorus, you weren’t even watching the crowd. They didn’t matter. The entire song had funneled down to this one thread pulled taut between you and him.

"Oh, I'll do it, babe"

You dragged the final note before dropping the mic into its cradle with a satisfying snap. You barely made it three steps back to the booth before Jesse let out a howl of laughter.

“Did you see his face?” he choked out, nearly dropping his drink as he pointed at Fives, “He’s malfunctioning.”

Kix coughed into his glass, not even attempting to hide his grin, “You good, vod?”

Fives shuttered like he’d just been pulled out of hyperspace without warning. His jaw was tight, one hand still braced on the edge of the table like he needed to hold on to something. Or maybe like he was about to launch over it.

“Shut up,” he muttered, slowly raising his voice, “All of you. Shut the kriff up.”

“Oh no,” Jesse grinned, sliding over dramatically to make room for you, “We’re just getting started.”

You took the open seat beside him, reaching for the drink you left on the table. You didn't look at Fives right away, nor did you have to. The heat coming off him could’ve powered a starfighter.

Kix leaned back, one arm draped lazily along the back of the booth, “He hasn’t blinked since you got up. It might be permanent.”

“I’ll arrange the med evac,” you shrugged, as you sipped your drink, earning yourself a round of laughs.

Jesse turned to you, shaking his head with eyes wide, “Did you change the lyrics? I swear you changed the lyrics.”

You hummed innocently, “Did I?”

“Oh you did,” Kix chuckled, still staring at Fives like he was a case study, “He nearly died when you said his name without even saying it.”

Fives finally moved. He sat back, running a hand over his face like that might cool him down. It didn’t. His ears were still flushed crimson. His voice cracked just a little when he spoke, “You’re all real funny.”

“Not as funny as your face when she winked at you mid-chorus” Jesse snorted, slapping the table, “You clutched the table like you were under sniper fire.”

You arched an eyebrow, finally looking at Fives fully. His gaze snapped to yours instantly like a direct hit. He didn’t look amused. He looked wrecked. You almost felt bad, but you smiled anyway, “Was it that bad?”

Fives blinked and took a long chug from his drink. He almost looked like he was calculating the fastest way out of the bar without starting a riot, “You,” he exhaled hard, “you have no idea what you just did.”

You let out a playful laugh, “Oh, I think I do.”

Kix snorted into his drink again, “He's going to need a full recessitation kit.”

Fives didn't respond, but kept staring at you like you were the only person in the galaxy - until he finally stood, “You’re coming with me.”

Jesse just cackled, loud and delighted, lifting his drink like he was toasting your funeral - or your success.

Kix leaned back with a low, amused groan, “Maker,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face like he couldn’t believe it’d taken this long.

Fives didn’t spare them a glance and reached for your hand. His grip was warm, fingers curling around yours with a quiet urgency, like he’d finally let himself want this out loud and couldn’t bring himself to look back.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fast and loud. You didn’t ask where he was taking you. You didn’t need to. Your feet moved like they already knew.

He didn’t say a single word as he led you through the back corridors of 79’s, weaving past low lit maintenance halls and spare rooms until the exit sign glowed red in the distance.

The heavy door hissed open with a metallic shudder. The night air was much cooler out here, brushing over your heated skin like shock. You drew in a breath, chest rising slowly as the sounds of late night Coruscant traffic pulsed around you.

“So,” you began, breathless from keeping pace beside him, “are you dragging me to Unit 3C, Block 47, Level 5008, CoCo Town Residential Ring, or do you plan on hashing this out in the alley?”

For a fraction of a second, he stopped dead in his tracks, and the faintest flash of surprise crossed his face. A dark smirk slowly began to overtake the surprise as he squeezed your hand just a little tighter, “You must need a damn good memory to live here."

The walk quickened after that, every step between you loaded with anticipation. The city lights blurred past, dipping into a muted background as your focus narrowed to the heat radiating from Fives beside you. His breaths came in short, sharp bursts, and every so often, his eyes flicked to you like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

When you reached your building, Fives slowed just long enough for you to press the security gate open. He stood close behind you, his breath heavy against your neck.

The turbo-lift ride was mercifully short, but the silence between you was dense, but perfect for the electric tension crackling beneath the surface. The only sounds were the soft hum of the repulsor machinery and the steady beat of your pulse pounding in your ears. The soft glow of the panel lights barely lit your faces, but it was enough to see the tight line of Fives’ mouth, the sharp edge of restraint behind his eyes.

When the doors slid open on your floor, Fives barely hesitated. His hand tightened on yours as he pulled you forward with a sense of urgency that sent shiver down your spine. The moment seemed to last forever as fumbled with your keycard, sliding the door open.

You stepped inside, the familiar scent of your apartment wrapping around you. Before you could move further, Fives closed the door behind you with a soft click that felt like the final lock clicking into place.

His body pressed against yours, trembling with restrained need. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, his lips finding yours with a fierce, desperate hunger that had been simmering all night, finally unleashed.

The kiss was consuming, breathless, rough, and tender all at once. His hands roamed, memorizing, claiming, and every touch sent sparks dancing beneath your skin. The world outside, the teasing friends, the laughter from 79’s, everything. It all of it fell away until there was only you and Fives.

You broke the kiss just long enough get a few hushed words out, “Been wanting this a while, haven’t you?”

He closed the distance instantly, mumbling against your lips, “Don't act like you haven't.” Fives pressed you gently against the cool wall of your apartment, his body anchoring you in place. One hand came up slowly, cupping your jaw with a tender firmness, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate path over your bottom lip.

His eyes flickered to yours, dark and raw with want, the earlier urgency now tempered into something more controlled but no less intense. The kiss deepened, shifting from the frantic need of before to a deliberate, searching rhythm. His lips moved over yours with slow, calculated patience, He was teasing and exploring now.

“You wore that just to ruin me, didn’t you?” he huffed against your skin. His breath felt warm along your jaw, sending shockwaves across your skin.

You smirked, letting your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him a little closer., “Took you long enough to notice.”

That sparked something fierce in him. His hand slid from your jaw, trailing down your neck, then dipped beneath the edge of your top, his touch feather-light but electric as he brushed over your skin. Every nerve ending seemed to flare under his fingertips.

You could feel his breath hitch against your cheek as he pulled back just enough to glance into your eyes. His hand moved with purpose now, slipping beneath your shirt to cup your side, the warmth of his palm pressing you closer.

The kiss broke, only briefly, but when your lips met again, it was an urgent and fierce collision. Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands at the nape of his neck, pulling him even closer.

A low curse escaped his throat, his grip tightening on your waist as if to keep you from slipping away. The tension between you felt like a taut wire, ready to snap with the slightest motion. Yet beneath the heat and urgency was something softer. Almost like an acknowledgment of how long this had been coming.

You laughed breathlessly against his lips, “You’re unbearable,” you teased.

He smirked against your mouth, fingers tracing a slow line down your back, “Only for you.”

His hands moved with confidence now, sliding under your shirt fully. You gasped softly, the sensation both new, yet somehow achingly familiar.

Between kisses, the quiet sounds of your shared desire filling the room. His mouth left a trail of soft kisses along your jaw and down your neck, each touch igniting sparks that traveled straight to your core. You leaned into him, the walls around you fading until there was nothing but the space between your bodies and the steady beat of your heart.

His mouth latched onto your collarbone, “You have no idea what I’ve been holding back.”

“What if I do?," you whispered into his temple.

Fives didn’t hesitate to lift you off your feet the moment the challenge left your lips. His arms wrapped around your waist like you weighed nothing.

You didn’t miss the slight wobble in his step as he carried you, the obvious awkwardness of navigating your apartment without knowing exactly where to go. You guided him with quiet instructions, pressing soft kisses along the side of his neck as you did.

You squeezed your arms around his neck, feeling the steady thump of his pulse racing beneath your fingertips. His chest rose and fell faster now, matching your own ragged breaths.

Once inside the bedroom, he set you down gently on the edge of the bed and pulled away, towering over you. Your shirt was the first to go, his hand working quickly to free you from the fabric. Fives’ mouth followed, leaving a trail of scorching kisses along your collarbone and dipping lower, his lips teasing and worshiping all at once. The heat from his mouth was enough to melt away every last trace of restraint you both clung to.

But you felt as if it all unfair - all the attention on you. Without a word, your fingers found the waistband of his pants, tugging them down to his knees. The cool air hit his skin and made him shiver, lips parting in a low groan that vibrated against your chest.

His cock was already hard, thick and heavy in your hand, pulsing with need. You wrapped your fingers around him, teasing the tip with gentle strokes, feeling the quickening pulse beneath your touch.

You stood up, released your grasp on him, and placed your hands on his shoulders, spinning him around before giving him a gentle shove onto the mattress.

Fives swallowed hard, his neck arching upward as you mounted yourself between his legs, your mouth warm and eager as you slid his pants off. You traced your tongue along the underside of his shaft, flicking just enough to make him jerk, eyes fluttering closed.

“So I have a theory to test about two minutes,” you teased, your voice low and sultry.

His answer was a ragged breath, tangling his fingers in your hair, pushing you deeper. His hips pressed forward on their own, desperate for friction. You took him in, tasting every slick inch.

Fives groaned, hips rocking gently as you bobbed your head, one hand grasping the sheets. The way he looked at you, raw and wrecked and entirely yours, broke down every wall you hadn’t even known was there.

When you pulled back just enough to look up at him, his mouth was glistening, eyes hooded with need, “You’re driving me insane,” he repeated for the umpteenth time.

Your grin was wicked, fingers curling around his cock to pump slowly as your mouth went back to work. Every deep suck, every teasing flick of your tongue, was a promise, a claim. The bed dipped as he shifted, finally shedding his shirt. His skin was flushed, the muscles in his arms tight as he tensed underneath you.

You reached down, your fingers brushing against his balls, he shuddered, hips thrusting again into your mouth. You hummed around him, sliding your hand down and wrapping around the base, matching the rhythm of your mouth. The sounds he made filled the quiet room, echoing your own racing heartbeat.

Finally, he pulled you up, lips crashing against yours with renewed hunger. His hands were everywhere, fingertips tracing fire across your skin as he claimed your mouth, your neck, your collarbone.

"A little overdressed, don't you think?" he groaned into your mouth, forcefully pressing your back into the bed in one swift motion.

Fives carefully peeled the rest your clothes away, each bare inch of skin he revealed making the ache between you pulse hotter. It was almost as if he was worshiping each moment of the act.

"Still think five minutes is enough?” he growled against your skin, hands settling just above your hips.

You smiled wickedly, “Depends what you have to offer.”

That challenge sent a shudder through him. Fives didn’t waste a second, his hands trailing down to the bare skin of your thighs. His fingers teased the sensitive skin just between your legs, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Look at me,” he demanded, as he settled between your legs.

You complied without hesitation, watching him worship your body with his hands and mouth, his lips pressing wet, open kisses across your inner thighs, teeth grazing until a low moan escaped your throat.

His fingers slid inside you, slow and steady at first, in teasing, building motions. The contrast between his strength and tenderness was maddening. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the pace.

You shivered beneath him, hips lifting into fingers., “You feel like a dream,” you gasped, voice trembling.

"Then I won't wake you up," Fives groaned deep in his chest, fingers curling inside you, thumb rubbing your clit in hard, slow circles. The way your body responded to his touch left him utterly undone.

His mouth moved to your core, tongue flicking and swirling with maddening skill. The sensations overwhelmed you, and you cried out as he worked you higher and higher.

Fives’ breath was ragged, his hands at your clutching your hips, holding you steady as you shattered beneath him. The way your body clenched and quivered around his mouth left him dizzy and raw with need.

Without warning, he pulled his mouth up and crawled over you. His eyes met yours, searching you unspoken approval to continue as he positioned himself at your entrance. The lust in your eyes gave him every answer he needed as the sexual tension grew unbearable, every nerve in your bodies screaming for release.

With a slow, deliberate push, he slid inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that made you gasp and arch against him. He stayed buried for a long moment, savoring the way your body clenched around him.

The first thrust was slow and deep, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm that left your muscles trembling and your heart pounding.

The moans, gasps, and curses you made filled the room as he fucked you with a wild urgency, as if he trying to erase all the months of longing and restraint in one fierce motion.

His hands slid from your hips to your back, pulling you up against his chest as he set a relentless pace, each powerful thrust driving deeper and harder.

You matched him, your hips rising to meet every push, nails raking down his back as his mouth found yours again in a kiss that was desperate and raw.

“Still think five minutes is enough?” you mocked his line earlier, breathlessly.

His growl was dark and possessive, “Not a chance.” The pleasure continued to build until it was a roaring inferno. Your bodies moved together in fierce, messy harmony

When you each finally came, the world exploded in waves of white hot heat that left you breathless and trembling. Fives’ grip tightened, his own release shuddering through him as he groaned your name, burying himself deep inside you.

You held each other close in the afterglow, hearts pounding in sync as the silence wrapped around you like a warm, perfect cocoon. Your lungs still burned with the echo of him. With your muscles weak and skin dewy with sweat, you felt like you were floating in a body that barely remembered how to move. Every nerve had been stripped bare and every thought in your mind was melted down to nothing but sensation.

Fives was still inside you, his forehead resting gently against yours, both of you shaking from the weight of what had just passed between you. He didn’t speak at first, just breathed. They were deep, unsteady exhales that you could feel more than hear. His arms tightened around you gradually, like he’d only just realized you were real. And that this moment was real.

Then, finally, in a voice hoarse and full of something too big to name, he let it out, “What took you so long?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you whispered back, your forehead tilting just enough to nudge his temple.

He groaned, not in amusement, but something closer to disbelief. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to just do something, say something. But I kept telling myself I’d ruin it.”

He moved slightly, carefully easing out of you before guiding himself down onto the mattress. He didn’t leave your side, but instead, pulled you close, wrapping one strong arm around your waist and tucking the other behind his head. His body cradled yours easily, like it had always been meant to.

You curled into his chest, lips brushing against the croook of his neck, “You wouldn’t have ruined anything,” you half-smiled, tracing small circles into his side with your fingertips, “I was just worried that once we crossed this line, everything would change.”

Fives let out a quiet exhale, and the sound of it made something in your chest ache. He tilted his head down just enough to press a kiss to your hairline.

“I didn’t think I was enough,” he admitted quietly, like confessing it hurt more than any battle ever had. “You’re you and I’m just a soldier with a number and a nickname I gave myself so I wouldn’t be another reg in a sea of armor.”

You sat up slightly, bracing yourself on your elbow so you could look at him properly. His eyes were open but distant, lashes still damp, his expression raw with honesty.

“Fives,” you cooed, your fingers coming up to cup his cheek, “You are not just a soldier, and you sure as hell have never been just a number. You think I didn’t notice how you make people laugh when everything feels impossible? How you keep fighting even when you’re barely standing?”

His throat bobbed with a swallow.

“Even if it's just through the comms, you’ve been with me through every fight, every close call. You never let me fall behind when things when south. You've seen me at my worst. I've lost whole fleets, yet you still wanted me to come out with you guys tonight,” You brushed your thumb over his cheek, “It’s always been you.”

He blinked rapidly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, “You mean that?” he asked, voice tight with disbelief.

You leaned forward and kissed the center of his chest, right over his heart, “Every word.”

His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you back down against him, breathing deeply like he was trying to anchor himself with you.

The two of you laid there in silence for a while, skin against skin, hearts slowly finding a shared rhythm again. No armor. No rank. Just two people clinging to the truth of each other.

“I used to imagine this,” he said after a while, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, “Not the sex," he paused, tilting his head to the side and shrugging, "I mean that too, but this. Holding you.” He lifted his head up slightly, looking at your head on his chest, "and waking up with you?"

You gave him a small laugh, half-asleep against him, “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“I’m allowed to hope,” he hummed with a smirk you could hear, even if you couldn’t see it.

You then finally turned your head to glance at him, “You’re allowed to have anything, Fives.”

As the words left your mouth, something cracked inside him. It was almost like you could see everything hit him. Not just the physical intimacy, but the safety, the want, the idea that someone had chosen him not out of duty, not out of convenience, but because they saw him - despite everything - and still stayed.

“I don’t want this to be just a moment,” he exhaled, pulling you in closer.

You pressed a finger to his mouth, “It never was.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he buried his face in your hair like it might hide the emotion he wasn’t used to letting show.

The room stayed quiet for a long time. You laid there wrapped in each other, the sheets tangled around your legs, the bed carrying the scent of both of you. Your hand drifted along his chest, aimless, your thumb tracing the edge of the '5' on his temple. He shivered lightly at the touch.

“You cold?” you asked, reaching for one of the sheets.

He shook his head, “No. Just overwhelmed, I guess.”

You kissed his shoulder, “We'll figure it out together.”

He let out a hum and opened his eyes again, “So, just five minutes, huh? ”

You laughed, “You’re lucky I don’t time these things.”

He grinned, then leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. The kiss was much slower and softer now. One of those quiet, lingering kisses that didn’t ask for anything more than this. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again, “Thank you.”

“For what?" you mumbled against his shoulder.

“For choosing me.”

You pressed your palm to his cheek as if the motion could pull him closer to you, “There was never anyone else.”

Fives pulled you into his arms again, one leg curling over yours, his body fitting around you like a promise and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he didn’t have to survive alone.

You were here, and you weren't going anywhere.

if you enjoyed this fic please consider reading Reputations by @bigbadbatch

tags: @trixie2023 @clon3wh0r3 @melonmochiii @alice-in-wonderland111 @marvel-starwars-nerd @simping-for-fives @horsegirl4561 @koskareevesismyqueen @katelynnwrites @pinkiemme @youmaynowdothething @808tsuika @dangerdumpling @ahsoka-padme @persaloodles @soclonely @coffeeandtodd @gryffindorqueensworld @obiorbenkenobi @jedi-dreea @lightning-wolffe @msmeredithrose @orangez3st @alor-ika

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"Just a Dream"

Pairing: Vinny Hong x Reader

Summary: You cheated on him....in his dream.

Tags: Fluff, Established relationship, Insecure! Vinny :<

A/N: I just thought it'd be funny lol and I've had too much coffee to sleep rn anyway

He’s mad.

You can feel it—thick in the air between you, sharp like ozone before a storm. Even from the other end of the couch, it’s obvious. The space he’s put between you is deliberate, tense. You’d barely stumbled out of bed, still groggy and expecting him to reach for you like he always does—but he didn’t move, not an inch.

And you don’t even know why—like, you literally just woke up. 

It’s barely 9 AM and he’s already in a mood—a sour one. Oh, did you already mention that he’s ignoring you? Because he is. Loudly.

“…Vin,” you mumbled, curled up on the far end of the couch, wrapped around a cushion like it could substitute for him. “I wanna cuddle,” you said softly, blunt and half-asleep, more interested in passing out again right then and there—with him this time.

He scoffed—barely audible, but sharp. His mismatched eyes flicked your way, but he didn’t move an inch from his slouched position. One arm stretched across the back of the couch like he owned the whole damn thing, the other casually scrolling through his phone like it was more interesting than you—which, obviously, was a lie.

You heard a mutter—something low and annoyed, almost more breath than words.

“Huh?” you blink, already halfway back to sleep. You don’t have the energy for riddles.

He exhales harder this time and finally turns, just enough to shoot you a glare sharp enough to curdle milk.

“I said go ask Wooin,” he snaps. “Since you like laughing with him so much.”

It takes a second to register.

You blink.

Then blink again.

Groggy brain buffering.

“…What?” you said, like you weren’t sure if you’d just been accused of emotional treason before breakfast.

“What?” he mocked under his breath, voice flat and bitter as he repeated your word like it personally offended him. His eyes rolled skyward, head falling back slightly against the couch as if the very sight of you drained the last bit of his patience.

You blinked, momentarily stunned. That tone wasn’t teasing. It was cold—petty. 

Jealous.

You sat up a little straighter, sleep still clinging to your limbs as you shifted to face him. The cushion you’d been hugging now clutched loosely in your lap.

“Vinny…” your voice was gentler now, confused, concerned. “What does that even mean?”

He didn’t look at you. Just clenched his jaw and tapped at his phone screen like the dull thuds of his thumb could distract him from how annoyed he was.

“I haven’t even seen Wooin in weeks,” you added, trying not to sound hurt by how distant he was being. “And you were literally there the last time I did.”

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

You tilted your head, now more puzzled than anything. “Wait… did I miss something? Did I do something wrong?”

He finally moved—lowering his phone, mismatched eyes sharp as they finally met yours.

“You were laughing,” he said flatly, like it was a confession. “With him. All close. Like—like it was nothing.”

You blinked. “When?”

He stared. You stared back.

A beat passed.

“…Last night,” he muttered, eyes narrowing, like the memory still stung. “In my dream.”

You blinked.

Then blinked again.

And then let out a short, breathy laugh, disbelieving. “Wait—are you serious right now?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just crossed his arms tighter over his chest and angled his body slightly away, jaw set in quiet frustration—his silence said enough.

You stared, a little dumbfounded. “Vin... you’re mad at me over a dream?”

“You cheated,” he said flatly, as if that justified it all.

“In your dream,” you emphasized, mouth quirking into a smile you tried to hide. 

“You laughed with him,” he muttered, looking away. “Like he was your favorite person in the whole world. And then you—you leaned in close and whispered something in his ear and he smiled like—like he knew something I didn’t and—and I just watched.”

You couldn’t help it. A soft laugh escaped you again—half because it was ridiculous, and half because he looked so genuinely troubled about it. 

Like he actually got his heart bruised by your subconscious twin in a dream he made up.

He shot you a glare, but it didn’t quite land with how his lips were already starting to twitch.

“Oh my god,” you breathed through another quiet giggle, crawling toward him slowly. “That’s why you’ve been ignoring me all morning? You’re jealous of dream-Wooin?”

“Don’t call him that,” he scowled.

You try not to laugh again as you ease into his side, slow and gentle. “Baby,” you say, fingers brushing lightly over his arm. “I love you. Not dream-me, and definitely not dream-Wooin.”

He exhales, long and dramatic.

“You don’t understand,” he mumbled as you curled into him. “You looked so happy with him—like I wasn’t even in the room.”

Your smile softened at that. 

That’s what it was, then—more than jealousy, it was fear. Sleep-stupid and surreal, but real enough to make him fold in on himself like this.

So you take his hand and gently guide it around you, until his arm is draped across your back. You curl in close, nose brushing the hollow of his throat, voice muffled against his hoodie.

“You’re in the room,” you whisper. “In my mornings, in my dreams—you’re everywhere. My eyes are always on you. Just you.”

A soft giggle sneaks in at the end, and you lean up to kiss his cheek—slow and light, just the way he likes.

He stills—then sighs, the last of his tension finally draining as he melts around you, arms curling tighter like a lock snapping shut.

He buried his face into your neck with a quiet groan, voice muffled. “You’re so annoying.”

You laughed. “And you’re so dramatic.”

He grumbled something incoherent, nuzzling closer, holding you like he still wasn’t fully convinced you wouldn’t disappear if he let go.

Then, after a moment, he whispered against your skin, “Promise me something.”

You hummed, brushing your fingers through his hair. “What?”

“Don’t laugh like that with Wooin anymore.”

You huffed a soft laugh. 

“Vin—”

“I mean it,” he mumbled, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes. “Dream or not; only laugh like that with me.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately, cupping his face. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

“Good.” He leans into your touch like it’s enough to piece him back together. Then he tucks himself into you again, arms locking around your waist, his nose pressing softly into the curve of your nwck.

“Mine,” he added softly, almost to himself.

“All yours,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple.

And finally—finally—he smiled.

MASTERLIST

[heliosail]

Get the game for free! Patreon Itchio Gumroad GameJolt

Heliosail is Finally Here

Words cannot possibly capture how I am feeling today. I am joyous, overwhelmed, proud, humbled, and terrified all at once. This game is, in many ways, a very personal reflection of my heart and soul. I could have released it years ago, when it was "playable" for the first time, but I held back. I knew that it had not yet bloomed into the rose that I could see within it. 

This game has changed me in a profound way over the years I've devoted to it. When I started this process, I was in my mid twenties, severely depressed, being entirely supported by my father, and completely unable to see a future for myself. Since that time, I have moved halfway across the country, put my depression in full remission, come out as nonbinary, changed my name, written a novel, and now fully support myself. I am unrecognizable from my younger self. I used to be unable to make new friends, and now I have a whole group of people I met and bonded with over TTRPGs. I used to have screaming, crying meltdowns over my math homework well into high school. Now, I understand mathematics, statistics and probabilities with ease, and know that I am AuDHD. I used to be constantly anxious that if I ever did the wrong thing, no matter how slight, I would be rejected by the people in my life. Now, I can sit down at a work meeting and accept discipline without crying (Sometimes.) I used to not have the energy to do more than two things in a week. Now, I am running out of days in my calendar for everything I want to do. 

I cannot credit all of this change to one project, of course, but this game really has been a guiding force through this chapter of my life. I've been in a sort of dance with it, where I began to create answers to my anxieties, and in turn, Heliosail gave me resolve and hope. I was worried about climate change, so I imagined a future where we go back and fix our mistakes. I felt like I didn't fit in, so I created a fantasy where I could run away on a ship and be queer with all my friends. I was anxious about surviving in this capitalist world, so I imagined a society that tries to take care of everyone in it.

I fell into a comfortable pattern, where I could experience the joy of puzzle-solving that is the design process, and literally build the world that I wanted for myself.

And so, the truth is that, while I am excited and proud beyond words to finally let the world see my work, I am kind of mourning too. There will be more Heliosail to work on; I am already planning more content for the game, and will continue to try to spread it to those who will enjoy it most. But that is not the same. To achieve my dream for this work, I will need to develop a whole new set of skills. I feel rather like Sisyphus, having just reached the top of the hill only to realize that somehow I'm at the bottom once again. No matter how daunting I find the road ahead, though, I believe that Heilosail is worth it. Maybe it makes me sound conceited and self-important, but the truth is that I feel a drive and responsibility to make this project a success, as if it is for something greater than myself. It's like I'm pushing this boulder, not up a hill forever, but towards someone who badly needs it. I don't know who they are, but I am driven to reach them as if both our lives depend on it. 

More Content Coming Soon

More files will be coming in the near future, added to the download for Heliosail everywhere you can find it. I will be adding a "Home-Printer Friendly" version of the handbook very soon, which will be black and white with no images, and will be reformatted to use the fewest number of pages possible. I will also be releasing a free adventure to provide you all with some content for your games. Adventures I publish after this will be paid supplements, but I will continue to publish "Monster Mondays" and other free content on Patreon. 

[deedee-sims]

Non-Sims Interests

I was tagged by @episims and @katatty, thank you! ❤

Video games: What a surprise! I do prefer chill games, simulators, or puzzle games... If you'd look at my steam library, you'd probably think I'm trying to play all the hidden cats games in existence 😅

Theater and musicals: I love musicals! Just the whole vibe and the songs ❤ I'm going to see a version of my favorite musical (that they don't really play anymore - it's called Elisabeth) later this month and I'm so excited! 🙌

Writing: Well, it's kinda sims-related 😅 Because I started with writing sims stories (a little more than 10 years ago), but nowadays I really only write fics so 🤷‍♀️

Jigsaws: I love jigsaws, woo! 🧩

Cross-stitching: I've been cross-stitching since I was a teen! Of course, I don't have as much time for this hobby nowadays, but I still try to poke at some textile a little every week. Here are some of my 'newer' works from the past few years:

I have more hobbies but that was enough lol

I tag: @esotheria-sims, @mdpthatsme, @eulaliasims, @kayleigh-83 if you want to :)

[lanawinterscigarettes]

hiii i just found your blog, I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE, and if i can request like an angsty story about house and wilson with reader, and the reader has like some disease that'll kill her😭😭😭😭😭im just craving angst

YOU ARE SO SWEET THANK YOU 💞💞 it's been awhile since I've written a good angst fic so this is perfect for me

Your Last Breath (Greg House x gn reader x James Wilson)

Warnings: talk of hospitals/medical procedures, reader has a mystery illness that kills them, they/them pronouns used a few times to refer to the reader in a gender neutral way, hurt/no comfort, heavy angst, main character death (spoiler: it's you)

The doctors had been trying for months to figure out what was wrong with you. Months of invasive tests, months of going back and forth with possible explanations, months of being put on temporary treatments that seemed to work for a short while before you eventually succumbed to whatever was causing your problems again.

Everyone was stumped, and by everyone I truly do mean everyone. Not even House could figure out what was wrong, something that frustrated him to no end for multiple reasons. And by the time he was finally able to figure out what the cause was, it was already too late.

The disease had progressed too far along on its course for the doctors to be able to treat it properly. The best they could do was make you comfortable for the few weeks you had left to live.

Usually he liked having cases he couldn't crack, he liked figuring out the puzzle of what was bothering his patient, he liked being able to go to Cuddy and say "I told you so" when it ended up him being right and everyone else was wrong. But not this time.

This time all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. If only. He'd gladly give up both of his legs if it meant you'd get better.

Meanwhile, the resident head of oncology wasn't taking the news very well, either. It was normal for House to shut himself away for extended periods of time, but not Wilson. He barely left his office anymore, not to check on his own patients, not to accept a request for a consult, nothing. In fact, the only time he ever did leave was to visit you.

Most nights were spent with either him or House at your side, checking your vitals and fetching whatever it was that you needed. You ended up having to beg the both of them to go home at some point, even if it was to just shower and change, but they still refused, choosing to stay at the hospital instead.

Occasionally one of the ducklings would stop by if either of them couldn't for some reason, whether that be due to another patient needing attention or because you finally convinced them to take a break for once.

Foreman was solemn, talking about arrangements that could possibly be made for your body after death if you hadn't decided already. Cameron was sympathetic, reassuring you that they'd make sure you wouldn't be in any pain during your last days on earth. Chase was playful, trying to take your mind off things by cracking a joke or two. And Cuddy was surprisingly very nurturing when she managed to make the time to check in on you.

The whole thing was very bittersweet. While you appreciated everyone caring so much about you, it hurt to know why they were doing it.

Your final day was surprisingly quiet, with no nurses stopping by to check on you every hour or so like they had been for the past couple of weeks where you'd been bedridden almost completely. You suspected someone had requested for that, so you could have a bit of peace in the last few hours you'd be alive for.

House stood at the foot of your bed, watching as you slept. He looked like he was about to say something when Wilson suddenly spoke up from the armchair beside your bed.

"Don't even think about it, House. You're not waking them up right now."

Despite Wilson's firm tone, House couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Oh, come on. It's not like it matters much, they're going to be dead soon anyway."

It took everything in the oncologist not to snap and strangle the man in front of him. The only thing that managed to stop him was the sound of you letting out a hacking cough as you woke up. Even with the oxygen machine, it had become increasingly more difficult for you to breathe.

"Guys, don't fight," you tried to make your tone stern as you lectured them, but your throat was dry and therefore made your voice weak and raspy when you spoke.

"Hey, hey, don't speak, it's alright," Wilson gently reassured you as he reached out to take one of your hands into his. Your skin felt clammy, but he didn't care.

House had a pained look in his eyes as he watched you, but he did his best to cover it up with his usual snark. "We were just talking about you. Trying to figure out who should get your stuff when you die."

Wilson gave him an evil look, but you simply laughed. At least, they thought you laughed. It was kind of hard to tell given how sick you were.

"You guys are funny."

If it were any other time, House would've beamed with pride and joy at being able to make you smile with one of his quips, but this time he just felt empty inside, knowing that it was possibly the last one you'd ever hear. He quietly observed as Wilson helped you drink some water out of a small paper cup, one hand helping you hold it up to your lips while the other rested on your shoulder.

"Thank you," was the only thing you managed to get out once you were done, your breathing stalling yet again when you tried to speak. The three of you knew it was getting close to when it was going to happen. The problem was that only one of you had accepted it, and it wasn't either one of the two doctors who were in the room.

"I love you guys," ended up being your final words, a bittersweet smile on your face and tears in your eyes as you took your last breath. You hoped they knew that you meant that. You hoped they knew that you didn't blame them.

And you hoped that your death helped to bring them closer together rather than tearing them apart. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but who really cared? It's not like you'd be around to witness it anyway.

End notes: I rarely ever finish a request this early so please don't expect this to become a normal thing 😭 I just got really into writing this for some reason and once I started I just couldn't stop

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | House MD masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @pigeonmama @caplanreblogsfics

[j-eryewrites]

Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want This Time

Chapter Seven of Under Pressure: A Thunderbolts Fic

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Previous | Next

Word Count: ~7.0k

Warnings: Language, mentions of wanting to kill/murder someone, Valentina hate train, mentions of insecurities, I guess still THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS, (let me know if I missed something)

Author's Note: Sorry for the late update. I've been on vacation in DC and Maryland, so I have been busy. But here it finally is. I believe from now on the chapters are going to get a bit longer. I'm trying my best to not write over 10k chapters anymore (we will see how long that lasts). As is mentioned in the tags, this is a slow burn, so I'm sorry folks, it'll be a while until reader and Bob become a thing, BUT I promise we will get a whole lot more interactions with Bob in the upcoming chapters. Anyways, please enjoy!

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You were all better prepared this time, walking into the old Avengers Tower. However, hardly anything remained of your old home. It had been one of many you had lived in, but it was the first. One tends never to forget their first home and the memories that linger in the walls, growing quieter with the years. The bones stayed the same, but the skin and muscle had all been torn out and replaced. Even as you walked in the front doors, there were people patching up and building new drywall. Your brows furrowed at the large white truck. Its siding was unlabelled, almost like a blank canvas waiting to be used for something more. As you approached the front, a team of guys hustled around the truck, seemingly trying to remove it from the building. You couldn’t help but notice some snickers escaping your fellow–well, you guessed you could say it now– teammates. 

“Wow,” Yelena announced from her place in the front of the group. She twirled around, eyeing you all whilst wiggling her brows before stopping at Bucky. A slight grin appeared on her face as her pointer fingers twiddled in the air. It was the kind of smile that was always followed by a joke or a jab at another, and from how she scrunched her nose at Bucky, you figured it had something to do with him. “Nice knowing the door was unlocked this time.” 

Peering over your shoulder, you caught Alexei cheerfully slapping Bucky on the shoulder. Yeah, definitely Bucky.  

“It was great plan, Mr. Winter Soldier.” Alexei’s chest heaved as he let out another chuckle. Everyone besides you and Bob let out another laugh while the two of you tried to piece the inside joke like a puzzle. All the pieces lay before you: a broken wall with an indent that fit the front of the crush truck perfectly, piles of swept-up glass as workers put in new panes, Bullet holes in nearby walls.  Each piece fitted together, snuggling closely inside your mind beside everything you knew about the culprit. 

Despite being great friends with Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes was nothing like your bonus dad/uncle. You still weren’t really sure what familial titles to call the Avengers–your family. They all raised you, each one taking a different spin on the responsibility of caring for you. Bucky was someone who fell under that category. While Steve was the kind of person who’d sit with you on rainy days where you wanted to savour the sound of the water drowning out your thoughts, Bucky was the one you’d crash into when running from the demons in the dark. He listened and understood your struggles with your past, the regrets, the lies, all of it. With his vibranium arm, he’d hold you until you could stand on your own again, all while he shooed the shadows that crept too close to you. While a stable foundation you could find your footing on, Bucky was just as rickety as the rest of you. In a moment's notice, he’d jump out of a moving car, all while avoiding taking a trip to the grocery store because of something embarrassing he said a few weeks ago to an underpaid clerk. As you passed by the struggling workers removing the truck from the building’s entryway, it was apparent Bucky had taken the jump. Instead, the jump was barreling through the front doors.

Bucky rolled his shoulder back, as he tilted his head back and forth like he was adjusting how tightly his head was screwed onto his neck. He tightly nodded to Alexei, shaking off his encouragement, “Thanks. And just call me Barnes.” 

“You got it, Mr. Win–Barnes,” Alexei corrected himself. Clutching the base of his belt, Alexei adjusted his suit to better keep his belly tucked in. He had insisted on wearing his Red Guardian attire despite its soiled state. 

Besides Ava, due to obvious reasons, the others had chosen to wear the fresh clothes you and Bob had picked up for them at the store. It was strange seeing them all out of combat gear. You struggled to find the word for it as you waited for the elevator to arrive in the lobby. Peaceful? You shook your head. You all were anything but peaceful, with how everyone had a permanent scowl or glare plastered on their face. The only ones you could probably say were close to anything peaceful were Bob and Yelena. Although Bob held a befuddled expression, he still did not understand much of anything despite your attempts to explain things to him. Yelena, on the other hand, was smiling, but it was the kind of smile that could turn deadly in the blink of an eye. You were all on edge with the upcoming meeting, so relaxed wasn’t the word. Your eyes lit up. Uncomfortable. 

“Right,” Ava said, eyeing you strangely. It was then that you realized you had said it out loud. “Anyways, what are we planning on doing when we get up there? I still say we should kill her, you know, get it over with and then go on our merry way.” 

Walker’s eyebrows raised as if he pondered the thought before shaking his head, his head tilting slightly. Your brows pinched together, wondering if he always shook his head like a father who only said no because Mom said so. Glancing at the group, you figured the title of ‘Mom’ belonged to Bucky, given how drained he appeared due to all the threats of murder. 

“As I said before,” Bucky exhaled. His mouth was working overtime as he enunciated every word with remarkable clarity. “ We can NOT kill Valentina. We are here to discuss and ONLY THAT.” His eyes met every one of you, lingering a bit longer on the more bloodthirsty of you. 

“Okay, Senator Barnes, way to be a politician,” Walker grumbled under his breath. “A little beating never hurt anyone. See, I turned out just great–” You and Ava snickered.  

“Yes!” Alexei cheered. “Mr. Walker gets it. We can always break a few bones–”

“No breaking bones, no accidental flying knives, no weird energy stuff, or–” He pointed at Yelena. “Your zit-zit thingies.” Yelena groaned, flinging her arms into the air, revealing she had indeed brought her stun bracelets. “Bob–” At the mention of his name, Bob stood a little straighter. His gaze was torn from the popcorn-looking ceiling and onto Bucky. “Just…” But Bucky couldn’t finish his sentence. His face contorted to discover the right words, only to sigh in defeat. “Just don’t do any of what I said.” 

“Yeah, no, got it,” Bob blurted. “No killing. Just talking.” 

The ding of the elevator bell interrupted the conversation, bringing it to a conclusion. The brass doors slid open, revealing a spacious room. One by one, you all filtered in. Once Alexei entered, the room felt a little less spacious. Slowly, the doors closed with a thud. You all stood there for a moment. 

“Why aren’t we moving?” Ava questioned, standing on the tip of her toes to peer over Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Don’t ask me, I’m not near the buttons,” Walker clarified, shifting to lean his back against the cool surface of the elevator walls. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you, now did I?” Ava retorted. Walker lifted his head to scoff at her, angering Ava further. 

“Okay, okay, we get it. No one has pressed the buttons yet.” With minimal effort, Yelena jumped into the air. It was just enough height to see over most of the heads. “Bob?” Yelena called out to him. 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re in the corner with the buttons.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“So…can you press them, so we can go up?” 

“Uh…W-what floor are we supposed to go to again?” Bob quietly asked. A loud groan left Walker’s mouth. You swiftly elbowed him in the ribs, stifling his complaints. “I forgot.” 

“Uh…It’s floor…” Yelena trailed off. Her green eyes fell on Bucky. 

He felt the stare hit the back of his skull. Sighing, Bucky muttered the floor Valentina had told them to be on. “73.” 

“73, Bob!” Yelena bellowed. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“So,” Valentina cleared her throat, bringing her hands together in a wringing motion. You eyed her tense smile. One you had put on many times before in front of people you’d rather be six feet under than standing in front of you, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and Valentina was desperate. “Can I get you anything to drink? Mel here makes a great cup of coffee.” Mel gave you all a tiny introductory wave before catching Valentina’s glare and slumping back against the wall with her eyes cast down.

“I’ll have coffee. You can never be too awake,” Alexei grinned at Mel, who began to jot down his order.

“What would you like in–”

Leaning forward in your leather conference room seat, you placed your elbows on the table. It was a dark-stained oak with the O.X.E. label plastered on the middle in a blue and gold resin design. Your fists clenched tightly together as your voice lowered. “We’re not here to play nice and chat over drinks, Valentina.” Valentina’s smile dropped, finally expressing the face she had fought off since the moment you all entered the conference room.

It had been one of the only floors safe from the damage caused by the Void incident. After all, a building is not typically built to withstand a helicopter or two falling out of the sky and crashing down onto it. Some of the outer windows had been shattered, letting in a chilly late afternoon breeze. Even in the closed-off conference room, you could still feel the cold. You welcomed it. It kept you alert, and one needed to always be on the tip of their toes with Valentina. 

“Ms. Stark, you surprised me.” Valentina’s dark eyes narrowed on you. “I thought your Father would have raised you with some manners. Or at least common courtesy–” 

You lunged out of your seat. If it weren’t for Bucky hauling you back, you’d have your bare hands around Valentina’s throat. 

“Y/N,” Bucky hissed. Using his vibranium arm, he led you to a chair farther away from Valentina, right across from Bob. “Talk, not kill,” he whispered to you under his breath once you were seated. You let out a huff of air in distaste at being removed from the conversation and placed in a time-out. 

“Valentina,” Bucky cleared his throat. 

“Mr. Barnes, or ah–” She corrected herself. “Senator Barnes, forgive me.” 

Bucky made a tight-lipped smile before continuing. “Bitch,” he muttered quietly, as he took a sharp breath to try and cover the curse. But before he could say anything else, Valentina’s act dropped in the blink of an eye. 

In an exasperated manner, Valentina flung her arms up and gawked at the lot of you as you sent her glares. They were all on a varying wavelength: Alexei was on the lowest end due to him loudly whispering to Mel his coffee order, Walker and Yelena were in the middle of bordering the fine line of talking to and actively planning Valentina’s murder. Ava and you were on the furthest end wanting to strangle the woman, and the desire grew ever more enticing the longer she breathed. All while Bob did not know the spectrum even existed, yet still held some animosity towards the woman. Something deep inside him hurt when he saw her. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling it had to do with what you and the others had gently tried telling him. Bucky was in the 3/4th range: 25 percent wanted to kill, and the other 75 percent wanted to sort this out. There was also an extra 30 percent there for his desire to just call Sam and have his help in figuring this all out. 

“Jesus! What is with you people?” Valentina bleated. Her eyes went wide as they made a round trip around the room. “It’s like you hate me or something.” A flash of nervousness rippled through her dark eyes. She tried to hide how shaky she was getting by drinking some of the water in front of her at the head of the table. You all noticed the signs despite her attempts at concealment. 

“More like we want to kill you,” Ava commented, shifting in her seat to prop her legs up onto the conference table. “But Bucky here wants us to talk and, well, he’s terrifying, so I’m doing my damnedest to listen.” Walker nodded in agreement. When he caught Bucky’s eye he uncomfortably shrugged in response. 

“Wait–” Bucky turned to Ava, his eyes meeting each of yours briefly. “You’re scared of me? Why?” 

Yelena let out a bewildered gasp. “Dude! You’re the Winter Soldier. Who wouldn’t be scared?”

“Not the Winter Soldier anymore,” Bucky clarified.

“Well, you were,” Yelena quipped back. “I’m still reeling from when you blew up our car.”

Alexei let out a sob, thinking about the Red Guardian Limo. “My Limo business,” he somberly mourned. 

“Look,” Bucky sighed. “I said I’m sorry. You were evidence that was trying to run away, and I–”

“Made a tactical decision, I get it.” Walker finished. “Still could’ve driven your motorcycle up to us or, you know, maybe talked it out like you’re wanting us to do now.” 

“Guys–” Bucky tried to defend. 

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” Bob interjected. 

“Honestly, Bob, that’s such a great question.” Yelena loudly stated, bringing the conversation to a halt. Bob beamed, happy to have been of help. Slowly, his eyes met yours as they flickered with confusion, asking for your help. Quietly, you nodded your head to the seat beside you.  Yelena turned to Valentina, her eyes growing cold. “What are we doing here, Valentina?” 

Finally having the attention back on her, Valentina clasped her hands together. Her rings ground against each other as she tried to calm herself. “Thank you, Yelena.” She cleared her throat, pulling up her most diplomatic voice. “Well–” 

A loud screech came from the end of the table. “S-sorry,” Bob muttered, pulling out his chair. All eyes flashed to him as he made his way around the back of the table to sit next to you. He muttered apologies as he trekked over. It felt like years, with the silence and stares looming over him. “Sorry,” Bob apologized again, finally sitting down beside you as his hands found their way into his lap. He began to fiddle with them with his eyes cast down. 

“You good?” You leaned over, whispering to him. 

Bob’s eyes moved to yours, smiling softly as his hands came to a still. “Yeah, just…” He trailed off, looking at the others as they engaged with Valentina. “I still have no idea what’s going on.” 

“I can try to explain if that helps?” Bob nodded. “You remember the Vault?” 

“Y-yeah, we almost burned alive. I thought that lady was the one who, you know…” Bob gulped. “Wanted to kill us.” 

“Right, well, I’m pretty sure she still does, but now we’re her ticket out of an impeachment trial, so she’s trying to play nice. While we are trying not to get caught up in her schemes and be taken down with her.” You explained. 

Bob’s eyes narrowed as he began to piece things together. “So that’s what you and Bucky were talking about at the restaurant–Good food by the way. I really liked it. Wait–” Bob stopped himself short, his eyes lowering as his next question popped to the surface. “Uh, what’s she being impeached for? I’m sorry, I don’t know–” 

“The director of the CIA.” 

You weren’t sure what Bob was expecting you to say, but it sure wasn’t what came out of your mouth, with how his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “ Jesus, uh, wow. That’s a big one.” 

“Yeah, I know–” 

“No!” Alexei loudly exclaimed, banging his hands against the table. The coffee in his mug was spilling from the sheer force of the pound. “We are the Thunderbolts! Not the ‘New Avengers’.” Yelena groaned into her hand. Her face turned red as Alexei got louder. The disgust in Alexei’s voice at being the “New Avengers” was appallingly apparent. “We are no second-coming of Avengers. My team is the Thunderbolts. ” Then he mumbled under his breath, cursing the name Shane. You couldn’t quite hear it all. 

“Well, it’s a little too late to change the name, seeing as I told the press and all,” Valentina explained. She tensed as Alexei claimed it was his team. “Besides, it’s my team.”

“No. My team. Yelena, tell her.” Alexei demanded. 

“Dad–” Yelena pleaded. 

“Tell her we are Thunderbolts,” He proudly proclaimed, before switching his focus back to Valentina. “Change name back. So simple.”

Valentina let out an annoyed chuckle. “Not simple. No, you’re all the New Avengers, whether you like it or not.”

“I think we’re all forgetting the fact that she tried to kill us,” Walker hissed. Standing up out of his seat, he pointed an accusing finger at Valentina. All of a sudden, it felt like you were in a courtroom, except every one of you was a prosecutor put up against a defendant who was speaking for themselves. 

“Actually, I was having you all kill each other, ” Valentina clarified. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at her poor attempt at an excuse. “Which seems to have worked somewhat since there’s only seven of you instead of eight.” 

Walker froze. The finger that was once pointed at Valentina now faltered down to his side. His jaw clenched tightly at her words. You all did. Ava especially. Her eyes fell to the ground, finding the speckled pattern of the carpet drawing all of her attention. Bucky and Alexei glanced around at you all. Alexei’s eyes softened at Yelena’s somber expression, as a deep frown already etched itself onto her face. When Bucky’s eyes met yours, you couldn’t help but look away. Valentina was right. There was no refuting her words. 

“So what?” Yelena muttered. Her breath was low, and her shoulders were tense. Her eyes slowly drew away from her reflection on the table. “Are we still your shadow ops? Here to do your dirty work but under a new shiny title?” 

Valentina cocked her head to the side, taking in a deep breath. As if it were a reset button, her posture now stood straighter, like a needle about to inject something venomous deep into your veins. “Yes and no.” Her empty glass clinked as it was placed back onto the table. “You’re in this with me now. If I go down, you all do too. There’s nothing people love more than tearing into those who have fallen, and trust me, I’ll make you fall with me.” 

Bob nervously glanced over at you. His glance sparked a similar reaction in others. It was exactly as Bucky had told you earlier. Valentina was a predator who saw her opportunity and took it. You all were trapped, enchained by her side until she fell, dragging you all down with her, or until someone freed you. The weight of Bucky’s words and ideas fell on your shoulders. You shrink under their gaze, not enough for Valentina to see weakness and pounce. No, it was the kind of weight that you could not buckle from. The only place left to go was forward, and so you raised your head to face the viper. 

“Now, the public is already skeptical of you all, and I don’t blame them. I mean, we’ve got Walmart Captain America, a former assassin, a mall Santa, a failure of a senator—” Valentina’s words were intended to cut deep despite the coach-like tone she used when speaking to them. Despite her attempts to weaken you all, they fell on deaf ears. You knew you weren’t perfect. No one who sat at this table was. Covered in the shadows cast by the new name you all bore was enough of a reminder. 

“Alright, we get it, Valentina,” Bucky spat. “Where are you going with all of this?” 

“You’re so lucky you’ve got a cute face, Senator Barnes–and good hair,” Bucky scowled at the disguised insult. “Mel, I’m sure we can get it even better, tell the hair department that–”

“On it,” Mel said, already jotting down the ideas that began to spew from Valentina’s mouth. You wanted to feel bad for the poor woman, but she was just as much a part of this as you were. 

“We’re going to need good PR. Charity events and maybe some interviews with top news stations. We have got to build the image that you, miscreants, can step into the shoes of the old Avengers. Oh god, I won’t even begin to mention sponsors and–”

“Yelena, the Wheaties box!” Alexei cheered, nudging Yelena’s side. It seemed he intended it to be a whisper of sorts, but his voice came out much too loud as if he were a child going through a growth spurt. Whose brain was not realizing that they stood two feet taller than before, misjudging every action and placement. 

“I’m sorry,” Valentina blinked. “What? And what is that ridiculous get-up? We are definitely going to have to change that.” 

Alexei’s face dropped as his eyes narrowed at her. “No change. I am the Red Guardian and–” 

“Let me stop you there, Mr. Red Guardian,” Valentina interjected, brushing over Alexei as she continued to spit out more ways to make each of you into the most delectable mold for the press and people to eat up. The way she discussed wardrobe changes and PR events would put even the best social media influencers to shame. “Mel, make a note to trim up the beard, tidy him up a little…” She paused. “A lot. Hell, all of them. Actually, call the wardrobe and other accompanying departments stat. We’ve got a lot of work to do before–”

“Oh, I feel a headache coming,” Bob mumbled. The stress of it all: the unknown, Valentina’s threats and judgements, and now all this talk of being public and close-ups were making the wrinkles in his forehead more and more prominent. 

“I feel you,” you replied, trying to soothe the divots in your skin that mirrored his. 

“Enough about the hair and…whatever,” Bucky declared. Valentina paused her monologue, clenching her jaw. Sitting straighter, Bucky brought his hands together. He looked very official with how he sat, despite the T-shirt and jeans, and leather Jacket combo he was rocking. You understood now why he was elected by his Brooklyn constituents. While he didn’t have a way with words, Bucky did have a way with connecting with people and getting things done. “We need to talk about how this is going to work. Clearly, you need us, and somehow we need you.” 

A smile flickered onto Valentina’s face. It wasn’t a challenge or one meant to belittle. Instead, it was one of acknowledgement, as if Valentina began to see past the cover and actually read the contents. “You all, this little team you made, is official. And because you are the New Avengers, you need to start acting like them, doing what they did. You will all live in the Watchtower once the renovations are complete. You will attend events and make public appearances. And you will complete missions, save the world, I’m sure you get the gist. You do all that, and I make sure you are provided for. It’s an exchange, you see, I don’t get impeached and criminalized, and you all can have a chance for the clean slate I promised. Sound fair?”

The rest of the meeting flew by. Not because the topics rolled off the tongue spurring on the conversation, but because you chose not to listen for much longer, instead choosing to fiddle with your fingers. You trace their shape, dragging along the creases of your knuckles, which eventually stop. Next, you fumbled with your nails, not once bringing them up to your mouth. It had been a habit you broke long ago, but the urge to nibble now was unbearable. You could feel the nail beds touching your skin, digging into places you hadn’t noticed before. Soon, your focus was brought to the hangnails that peeled away from the original nail. You winced as you scratched at them, an attempt to get it away. It wasn’t until a soft hand squeezed your shoulder that you snapped out of it. 

Looking up, you found Bucky. It took a minute for your mind to load and understand what he was trying to tell you. 

“Y/N?” Bucky muttered your name. His thumb came to rub your shoulder in a circular pattern. It was the same one he always did when trying to comfort you. Clockwise three times, then counterclockwise four times before rubbing up and down to restart the pattern. 

“Huh? Oh yeah, I–sorry, ” you quietly said. You glanced down at the paper in front of you. It was a contract of sorts. One Valentina was having everyone sign. Legally binding, you recalled her saying. She’d do all the things she promised: provide housing and support for you all so long as you did what you agreed to. Scanning the papers, you realized she had pre-signed everything. You scoffed, picking up the pen that laid in front of you. You twirled it around, creating an illusion as if the pen was floating in the air. As your hands mindlessly flipped the pen between your fingers, your eyes lifted from the contract to your team. It seemed they were all reluctant to sign something like this, even though you spent the last two hours, give or take, discussing all the fine details. 

It was air-tight, or at least that is what Val wanted you to believe. You knew there was always some loophole you could find and hold onto, like a get-out-of-jail card. Finding it was the problem, though. While you were smart, you knew little about the legality of things. Picking up the thick paper, you bit your lip and clicked your pen. With a swift motion, a signature now lay on the line. Signed and dated. Mel came around, picking up the contracts one by one. Valentina blabbed on about how you all would receive copies of the contract to keep with you. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you watched as the contract in front of you disappeared. You couldn’t help but feel as if you had just made a contract with the devil, and you weren’t sure if you’d get out of this with your soul intact. One thing was for sure: you were going to need one hell of a lawyer to help you out. 

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The savoury scent of Chinese takeout wafted through the air. Although you and the others had devoured it the moment the delivery arrived, scarfing it down until your stomach overflowed and then eating some more, the scent lingered. Flopped against the cushions of your couch, you flung arms out, trying to stretch away your food baby. 

“Oh god,” Yelena groaned as she curled up in the corner of your couch. Snagging one of the throw pillows to brace against her stomach, she puffed her cheeks and let out a huff of air, which blew the blonde strands of her hair out and away from her face. “I don’t think I have ever eaten so much food in my life.”

“I second that,” Ava added, letting her head fall back on the cushion to the right of you. Wiping a few stray strands of hair from her face, she let her arms slump back down to the ground, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of your shiny hardwood floors. 

Beside you, Walker took a long sip of the beer he borrowed from your fridge. The flavour of the golden liquid teased his taste buds. At first sip, he wasn’t sure if he’d like it, seeing the brand and all, but it grew on him. The bitterness gave way to a soft sweetness that helped massage away the stress of the past few days. “Nothing better than cheap food and good beer,” he muttered, his eyes distant as he raised the drink in his hand, making a toast. 

“I’d drink to that,” you chimed, as you turned your head to gaze at your drink on the coffee table. You had only taken a few chugs of it before filling your stomach with as much Chinese food as you could eat. Now it sat building up condensation that formed a ring on the wooden surface of the table, matching all the other rings that had come before it. You weren’t one for coasters, it seemed. Extending an arm, you reached out for the drink. Your knuckles stretched out of their place to brush the dewy surface of your can. You jutted out your bottom lip, frowning. It was just out of reach. So you strained even further. Still, the drink lay out of reach. 

Walker chuckled. “Why don’t you try again? Maybe you’ll get it this time.” 

“Shut up, Walker,” you quipped back. You caught sight of the smirk that formed on his lips. The line of his smile reached his bright blue eyes. You rolled yours in response, reaching again for the drink. However, you didn’t have to reach far as the drink was lifted up and placed into your hand. 

“Here you go,” Bob said. Despite wearing your gloves, you could feel the warmth radiating from his hand. Carefully, you adjusted your fingers to hold only the tip of the can, giving his large hand the room it needed on the drink. 

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling his hand slip away once you had a grip on the drink. Bob just nodded his head, before turning back to his plate, still making his way through the last bits of fried rice on his plate. Lifting the beer to your lips, you felt the cool liquid drain into your throat. It sent a welcomed chill throughout your body. 

At the end of the couch, Bucky pushed himself off the cushions. His hands reached for the dirtied plates and dishware littering the coffee table. Stacking them one on the other, he carried the pile into your kitchen, gently placing them into the sink before washing them off and putting them into your dishwasher. You wanted to tell him you’d take care of it later, but the meeting with Valentina had made your throat coarse and your vocal cords unwilling to speak. Instead, you made a mental note to remind yourself later to thank him. Soon ,Bucky came back with a trash bag, collecting the empty take-out boxes and crushed cans of beer. Eventually, you willed yourself off the couch, following Bucky into the kitchen to finish cleaning up. 

“I’ve got this,” Bucky said, urging you to go sit back down with everyone else as the food comas overcame them. Alexei was the first to succumb as ripples of snores began to sneak out of his mouth. 

You shook your head, placing a few remaining dishes into your dishwasher before closing it. “Nah, it’s my house, you’re my guests.” 

“Well, you’ve been a great host so far, now let me be a grateful guest,” Bucky quipped back. 

You chuckled as he gently pushed you to the side to start your dishwasher for you. “Ever the gentleman, Bucky Bear,” you teased, letting the nickname you gave him long ago slip out, watching as he rolled his eyes at it. You knew he cherished the name more than he let on. He just never would give you the satisfaction of knowing. 

Reaching into the cupboard below your sink, you snatched a container of wipes and popped open the lid. The antiseptic smell of Lysol filled the air. With a sharp tug, the cleaning wipe detached, freeing itself from the bottle, and you began to wipe the counter. There wasn’t much to wipe, but even so, it kept you busy providing you a much-needed distraction from Valentina, the contract, the team, hell, everything. 

“Pepper called.” The words slipped out of your mouth. You sighed, wiping a spot on your counter a little harder. Bucky leaned against the counter beside you. He didn’t say anything, instead just giving you the space you needed to breathe, to keep talking. “She saw the news and called to check in. Make sure everything was okay.” 

“And is it? Is everything okay?” Bucky asked. You didn’t turn to look at him, but felt the weight of his eyes all the same. 

“I don’t know anymore, Bucky,” you admitted. You had stopped wiping the counter long ago, the Lysol wiping having dried out. “Earlier at the restaurant, I thought maybe I could do it, but then we had the meeting and signed the contract–Bucky, I’m drowning. In over my head with everything, and I haven’t even started. What’s worse is that Val is right. She’s a horrible person, but she’s right. I mean, look at us.” You tried your best to stay quiet, but with how much your voice was trembling, it was getting difficult. “We’re a bunch of misfits.” 

“You’re human,” Bucky said. 

You let out a dry laugh. “So were they, and yet here I am feeling less than.” 

Bucky took in a deep breath, flexing his hands. “Look, kid,” you sent him a glare. “Y/N,” Bucky corrected. “The Avengers were idolized. Put on pedestals for stepping up and being the first, but even then, they weren’t perfect. No one is. You know that better than anyone.” 

“Then why is it so much harder to live up to their expectations when they’re gone than when they were alive?” 

“Because they’re a memory. Living things change and adapt. Memories stay fixed, imperfect capsules of what once was. Look, I know it doesn’t do any good to dwell on the past. You get lost in all the questions of what could have happened and what might be instead of seeing what’s right in front of you.” Stepping closer, Bucky placed his vibranium hand over yours. “Go rest, I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

Reluctantly, you dragged yourself away from the kitchen and into the living room, flopping back down onto the couch. Pretty much everyone had fallen asleep by now. Walker lay tucked into the side of the couch. His mouth hung slightly open as he breathed in and out. His chest rose at a slow and steady pace. Nearby, Yelena grumbled in her sleep, still hugging your throw pillow. Ava was no longer anywhere in the room, but from the creaks in the floorboards upstairs, you figured she had found her way back into one of the guest rooms. Alexei still snored, his mouth hanging wide open. His nose twitched, and you noticed bits of rice stuck in his scruffy beard. All while Bob leaned against the palm of his hand. His elbow, which was braced against the table, slipped as he dozed off. The sudden jerk startled him awake. With a finger, you nudged his shoulder. He whirled around to look at you. His eyes were blown wide with sleep. “Huh, uh–I’m up,” he said groggily. 

“You can take one of the beds,” you quietly offered, glancing at the sleeping figures nearby. “I doubt they’ll wake up anytime soon.” 

“Uh, I’m good,” he tried to convince you he wasn’t tired, but you could see the sleep he was trying so hard to fight off. 

“Bob,” you sighed. “You need to rest. We all do. I know my place is unfamiliar, but I’ll do what I can to make it comfortable for you. More pillows or blankets? Maybe melatonin?”

Still, he shook his head. “Melatonin makes me wake up in the middle of the night, so–I promise I’m okay. I just–” His face fell, and he turned away from you. You sat up from your place on the couch, sliding down on the floor next to him. Behind you, you could hear Bucky’s deep footsteps as he made his way into your office to crash on the blow-up mattress. “I-I know you all said that I’m coming with you and that I’m a part of the team, but I can’t help but feel like that if I fall asleep, that I’ll wake up and you all will be gone.” 

Your shoulders fell as the tremble in his voice. Softly, you laid your head against your knees to get a better look at him. “Bob, I promise we will all be here when you wake up. I know some of them are leaving to get packed for when we move into the Watchtower, but we’ll be here.” 

Finally, Bob looked at you. His eyes scanned your face as he searched for any sign of a lie, but there was none. You looked certain and secure in your words despite the uncertainty he had heard you convey to Bucky in the kitchen. He felt bad for eavesdropping, but found it difficult not to listen to the sound of your voice. “Okay…” 

“Speaking of,” You began. “Do you have some place you want to go, things to pack up?” 

Bob shook his head. “No, when I left for Malaysia, I kinda sort of left everything behind. I don’t really have anything, besides the clothes and toothbrush you got me.” 

“Oh,” you uttered. “That’s fine. I’d be happy to pick you up some more things, if you’d like.” 

“I don’t want to ask that of you. You’ve already done a lot for me.” 

“Bob, please, it’s fine. I promise it does nothing but ease the weight of my wallet,” you lightly teased, all while trying to reassure him. “We can go shopping tomorrow if you like.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Bob smiled, tucking his knees into his chest to rest his arms on top. Slowly, he let his head drop down, lying in his arms. His eyes were still gazing at you from where you sat. You couldn’t help the heat that flooded your cheeks as he looked at you. 

Licking your lips, you began to nibble on them, your body unconsciously mirroring Bob’s position. “You’re welcome to stay with me, you know, until we all move into the Watchtower and all,” you whispered. Your fingers trailed the seam of your pants up and down, unsure as to why you were nervous for just offering him a place to stay. He hummed in agreement, fighting off the weight of his eyelids as they tried to close. Shifting, you carefully nudged him. “If you won’t go to sleep in one of the beds, at least sleep on the couch, Bob. It’s a great couch, if I might add. Might just sleep on it myself,” you yawned, lifting yourself off the floor to grab some blankets from your closet. Bob shook himself awake, mumbling that he’d be fine, but his body betrayed him as he stood up and crawled onto the couch. You unfolded the blankets, peeling the soft fluffy fabric from each other before lying it down over Yelena, Alexei, Walker, and lastly, Bob. Then finding an open place on the couch, you tugged a blanket over yourself. 

You curled your legs closely, settling in the fetal position. Settling in one of the corners of your large U-shaped couch, you let the serenity of the night overcome you. Bucky or Ava still shuffled around upstairs moving to and from the bathroom. It was a few minutes before the light at the top of the stairs flicked off, leaving only the dim light in the kitchen and some of the warm lights of your lamps remaining. Outside, you could hear the faint rumbling as cars drove by. Occasionally, some light chatter would fill the air as your neighbors stumbled into their homes after a late night. Nearby, you could hear Bob shuffling. The fabric of his sweater zipped across the fabric of your couch as he tried to get comfortable. For a moment all would be still, until he started moving again. 

“Bob?” You called out. He hummed in response, his movements stilled. “You good?”

“Y-yeah, I just–it’s a bit cramped.” You tilted your head off the throw pillow you were laying your head on. It was a floral pattern with tiny birds embroidered onto the surface. Even in the dim light you could see how crowded the other side of the couch was. Walker and Alexei, who were no means small, lay spread out. Walker had his legs out, his feet hanging off the edge of the couch as Yelena’s legs lay tucked behind him. Where Yelena’s waist lay, was Alexei’s head. Granted he was on the floor, his large arm that was tucked underneath his head took up the same amount of space as Yelena’s torso. At the end of the other side of the U lay Bob, trying to avoid placing his feet near Yelena’s face, and legs anywhere near Alexei’s open mouth. 

Observing the large gap that was between you and Walker, you figured it’d be safe. Besides you still had your gloves on which eased any worry you might have accidental touch. “There’s more room over here,” you admitted, opening up the space for him. Bob muttered out an okay, before waddling over, dragging his blanket behind him. Your head dipped down as he lay next to you. His feet just inches from grazing Walker’s sleeping body, his head coming to a rest near yours. Your pillows pressed up against each other. “Better?” You asked. 

Bob nodded, as you watched the tension in his shoulders and neck relax letting him fully extend. “Yeah, thanks.” 

“Of course, anytime.” You took in a deep breath, letting your body fully be held by the couch below you. As your eyelids shut, you called to FRIDAY instructing her to switch off the lights and lock the doors for the night. You vaguely recalled her signalling the completion of the tasks. “Goodnight, Bob” you mumbled, unsure if your words came out coherent or not. Sleep quickly overcame you before you could hear Bob wish you a goodnight as well. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[lastofthewardens]

SPOILERS i'll probably be talking about mostly foggy but also some other things so read at your own risk

alright. i said i'd wait until the end of the season to be mean, but now the season is over, and i have no reason to care or be cautious anymore.

i'm the most livid about the foggy stuff so i'm going to start there.

last week, when they revealed vanessa ordered the hit, i was pretty hopeful. but i thought about what this episode could look like over the past week, and i decided my worst case scenario was if it was confirmed that vanessa specifically wanted foggy dead. if that happened, it was over, and i wasn't going to let them fuck with my emotions anymore. that was my line in the sand.

and so here we are. because vanessa ordered dex SPECIFICALLY to kill him.

i really don't think, after seeing that finale, that foggy is coming back. i already didn't after watching the way they chose to film his death scene, but against my better judgment, i let myself believe as the season went on, especially this past week, and i wish i had just kept the same energy the whole time now because this hurts way more.

but i'm also kind of glad i didn't because it makes me more angry too.

i've said it before, but they've been outright cruel in the way they've handled things with foggy. they've laughed about wrecking everything, they've done really weird interviews saying frankly really weird things, they've directly teased brubaker on social media..

the most cruel part though, to me at least, is adapting foggy's fake "death" from the brubaker comics without it being fake. filming the scene with similar or at least comparable shots, the matt hearing his heartbeat stuff, having it be an ordered hit, having matt think fisk was behind it only to reveal it was vanessa, having all the necessary characters and puzzle pieces around, using so much of that plot.. and then stopping short of having foggy be alive. THAT'S fucked up.

they have, i believe intentionally if i'm being honest, strung foggy fans along for most of this season. they had to know they were inviting brubaker theories, they had to know people would hope, speculate, wish for an adaptation of the secret life of foggy nelson. there's no way they didn't know exactly what they were doing when they chose these plot points.

i complained about the "maybe i didn't want to give you an excuse" line back when it happened because it doesn't make sense for foggy to be complaining about daredevil anymore given where the original show left off. and even after how stupid it already was, they somehow managed to make this line even worse too?

because karen told matt that foggy saw the true matt, light and dark, matt/daredevil/etc, and believed in him anyway. so what the fuck was that line of dialogue from episode 1 then? lmao. WHY did they have him say THAT, especially as his last words to matt EVER? i allowed myself to hope that if foggy was alive, that line would be out of context, that maybe he knew the red hook stuff was connected to fisk, and he was hiding it because of the deal matt made with fisk/not wanting matt to potentially accidentally break their truce. in that case, the dialogue could be referring to not wanting to give matt an excuse (to break the truce). but no, he had no idea about any of that, he thought it was a random truck robbery apparently and had no clue what he stumbled into lmao. great.

the only explanation i can think of is that they had foggy say that because it assisted the plot. they wanted matt to feel bad and just did it, and then by episode 9, they probably forgot because it made no sense to begin with. that's part of the problem this show has btw. so many lines of dialogue and other stuff is entirely dictated by the plot or wanting to sound cool or be quotable rather than anything that makes sense for the characters. i'm still not fucking over "my mistake was believing i was immune to the darkness". what a wildly bad misread of the character, just a horrible line of dialogue. i don't know if there's any basis for that in other materials that i haven't seen, but in the netflix show iteration of this character, matt knowing he's got darkness inside is half the plot, dude.

speaking of character assassination though. cole n*rth is probably going to go through some weird redemption plot next season i'm sure, but uh. wow. the things they've done with him have certainly been a choice.

and kirst*n mcd*ffie.. hoo boy. she's one of my top 5 favorite characters in the comics. i see the potential in her scenes, but they wasted her the whole time and barely gave her anything, and i'm annoyed as fuck about that too. i would've loved to see this actress play her alongside matt and foggy like in the comics (and being able to include karen could've been fun).

i also just want to say.. i'm a mattfoggy first and foremost, i'm sure anyone reading my posts can guess that, it's very obvious lol. but i'm also a fan of matt x karen, it's my second favorite ship after mattfoggy. and in a world where foggy wasn't dead and i didn't hate this show, i'd be glad to see matt x karen get back together. i want that, especially since my main ship can't/won't be canon, but watching them use foggy's death as a prop to make that happen makes me mad as fuck. foggy deserves better, i think foggy fans probably feel that way, but i think matt x karen also deserves better than that. and while i understand people do bond over these things, the way they did it here just felt weird to me, it was a weird scene and didn't feel very genuine in content and was entirely carried by the actors being great at what they do. i've felt this way since "i refuse to believe a tragedy had to destroy everything", which is something the real matt would NEVER say about foggy nelson being dead. comics matt and even netflix matt would NEVER. and the scenes about it tonight only made me feel that more.

some of those scenes also gave me the impression they think they can just replace foggy with karen, which will never be okay. karen is her own person with her own personality and her own function in the narrative. neither of them can replace the other, that's not how it works.

like the scene where karen tells matt how foggy felt about him.. why her telling him that? it literally makes sense, i guess, but why? why not have a foggy hallucination at some point express those things? or even when he's 'dying' after taking the shot for fisk, he could've talked to foggy if he's really dead? or even a foggy who came back from being dead! because those words would've meant a lot more after a foggy is alive reveal! karen telling him that stuff couldn't possibly have the same impact as foggy saying it after "maybe i didn't want to give you an excuse". (a stupid line of dialogue, yes, but if they chose to roll with it anyway and try to explain it away). can you imagine after matt thinks foggy hated daredevil, he reluctantly picks up the mask against "foggy's wishes", only for foggy to eventually come back and tell him he knows him and believes in him?

i've said it before and i'll say it again, this show, EVEN THE NEW EPISODES BY THE NEW TEAM, is mostly just missed opportunities: the show.

also i clocked the clumsy attempt to explain how fisk got out of prison and it just made me laugh. 'oh there was fbi corruption so that's why my husband got acquitted' LMAO. what a weak explanation for a plot point that should've been adequately handled but whatever.

extra side note just for a bonus.. the slowmo in the fight with matt, frank, and the police in matt's apartment was horrible. no idea why they did that. it actively made the fight seem worse than it was lol.

and i'll say one more thing. there's a world in which foggy is like.. in actual witpro or something. like for example if there's a case being built against fisk that we don't know about yet, and he's stuck in real witpro until fisk and vanessa are dealt with. i hesitate to say that because i honestly do not think that's happening at all, but i have to acknowledge that it's at least a small chance. resuscitated in the ambulance unbeknownst to everyone, hidden away by actual law enforcement who aren't corrupt... idk, i guess it's possible, right?

but i seriously don't think you guys should get your hopes up at all. i don't want anyone to be sad or hopeless or anything like that. it's just that i think the only real possibility of foggy coming back now in the capacity he deserves is if people are angry.

because i don't think these showrunners (or half the people involved tbh, despite 'we care a lot' lmao) give a fuck about foggy at all. it's transparently clear they bring him up to inject easy emotion into scenes and that's it. i mean, come on, the avocados at law thing? don't get me wrong, in a world where foggy's not dead i'd eat that fanservice up, but they're purposely invoking these things for a reason. which doesn't have to be bad but reads as pretty shitty in the context of everything else they've done. they're doing it because it's easy to make you emotional that way. they don't have to write better dialogue that way. nostalgia bait indeed.

so i think if you're mad, you should use that, you should be open about this foggy stuff on social media and wherever else (don't be aggressive or hateful though; if you are, you'll just get blocked or ignored, and it's better if they hear you out). because if everyone sings their praises for these last two episodes, they'll think no one cares, and they need to know people are unhappy or they'll just carry on.

i don't know why they have elden in season 2, or what foggy's role will be, but let them hear you. even if they've started to backtrack on their own (press x to doubt), speaking up would only be good for foggy either way. they need to know fans do care and aren't happy with this.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: requested by an anon!

Warnings: the sickness????

pairing: Sihtric x you (x Finan)

summary: keeping your pregnancy a secret during the sickness did not go as planned

wordcount: 1,1k

Masterlist

'I hump my wife whenever I want, yes.'

'What are you looking for, Finan?' Osferth asked.

'Bodies!' Finan answered, cutting through the tall grass while covering his mouth and nose with a cloth.

You, Sihtric and Osferth glanced at each other as you relaxed and laid back in the grass.

'Eh?' Osferth said for all of you.

'Bodies!' Finan shouted again, 'I know the sickness is close!'

'Why are you shitting yourself?' Sihtric taunts. 

You snort at your husband's remark, who gives you a proud smirk.

'I've seen men as strong as bears at breakfast time,' Finan said, 'gurgling blood and pus by supper time! You little runt!' he snarled.

'Hey!' you gave Finan a disapproving look, but then grinned at Sihtric, loving how easy it was to rile the Irish man up right now.

You had been feeling a little under the weather yourself the past week. You knew if you told Finan, he would completely freak out, which could be funny, as you knew you weren't truly sick. But for Finan's own health, you decided against it.

Your travel continued, by foot. You and Sihtric walked with your fingers laced, and he kept you close at all times. Your husband noticed you hadn't been eating as well as usual, but to not freak Finan out, he decided to not bring it up yet, unless it would get worse or you would show signs of being ill.

Finan was the only one to hear you vomit one morning, near the river, and he stared at you, deadpan.

'The… the sickness,' he whispered with big eyes, pointing his sword's edge towards you from a safe distance.

'Finan,' you sighed and wiped your mouth, 'it's not the sickness, trust me,' you said and got up from your knees.

But as you set a step closer to Finan, the Irish man immediately took a step back. And so the dance began.

'Finan, don't be ridiculous!' you hissed, 'trust me, I'm fine.'

'Aye,' Finan said, 'and then catch the sickness myself, lady? I don't think so.'

You tried to walk back to camp but Finan blocked your way, from a safe distance still.

'Excuse me?' Your eyebrow raised so high, it almost hurt.

'You can't go back to the others,' Finan said firmly.

'Finan, you will let me go to my husband, right now, or I will cough in your face when you sleep!' you snarled.

Finan grimaced and took several steps back, allowing your passage back to camp, back to Sihtric.

Finan kept a close eye on you as the days progressed, and he was the only one aware of your early morning sickness. He did find it interesting no one else seemed to get sick like you, and he was especially puzzled that Sihtric didn't catch the sickness, knowing you and him were all over each other the whole day. Which kind of made Finan feel sick, but in a whole different way.

Unfortunately, Finan became more paranoid after the events earlier that day. You and the group you travelled with had been cornered, the only seemingly safe way out was through a river, which was filled with dead bodies, all victims of the horrible sickness. And it all spooked Finan even more.

'We can swim through!' your husband, the oaf, had blurted out, which you told him off for later, in private.

'Sihtric, why are you so reckless?' you asked.

'I am not!' Sihtric retorted, 'I just wanted everyone to get to safety.'

'By suggesting to swim through waters in which dead bodies lay? My love,' you sighed and rubbed your hands over your face. 

You absolutely loved Sihtric, but sometimes you wondered how he was still alive, being the way he is.

Sihtric didn't reply. Looking back, he knew he had been reckless, and he felt bad.

'You know I meant well,' he mumbled.

'I do,' you took his hands, 'but, Sihtric, you have to promise me to try and be more careful. Because I really need you here, with me,' you kissed his cheek, 'alive and well.'

'Did you wash your hands?' Finan asked you when you were making their dinner later that day.

'Yes. I washed them in that river, with the bodies!' you offered Finan a mean glare, and he returned the same face.

He went to sit at a safe distance while keeping his eyes on you. Sihtric was resting under a tree, several paces away from you, while the others were scouting the surrounding lands.

'You will kill us all,' Finan whispered, 'all of us, lady.'

'Will you shut up!' you hissed, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Sihtric wasn't catching any of this.

'Does Sihtric know? That you're dying?'

'Finan, will you shut your mouth?' you groaned, 'I am not dying! I do not have the sickness!'

'Aye, that's exactly what someone would say who is dying, because of the sickness!'

'Okay, listen,' you said as you had enough, 'don't tell anyone else, okay? But I am not sick. I am pregnant.'

Finan stared at you.

'Pregnant?!' He then blurted out loud.

You tried to hush him, but it was already too late. When you looked back over your shoulder, you saw your husband awake and alert, sitting up in the grass.

'You… you and Sihtric have been fooling around during the sickness?' Finan grimaced.

'Oh, I'm sorry. Just because your cock stops working when someone sneezes, doesn't mean that goes for everyone else!' you hissed.

Finan flared his nostrils. 'Lady, my co-'

'My love?' Sihtric frowned at the heated interaction as he walked over, 'what is going on?'

'You humped your wife while the sickness is going around?' Finan asked, stunned.

Sihtric shrugged and gave Finan a proud smile, 'I hump my wife whenever I want, yes.'

'And you got her pregnant?!'

'Finan, no!' you yelled. 

But it was too late. Sihtric's jaw had already dropped and his eyes were big, fixated on you.

'Is that… is that true?' he asked as he took your hands, 'darling are you… are we…'

'It's true,' you smiled, 'I carry your pup. And I couldn't be happier. I really wanted to tell you myself,' you said, 'and not like this. But the Irish loud mouth had to ruin it,' you glared at Finan.

Sihtric teared up and even Finan softened now, when he finally realised you weren't a threat to his health.

'Lady,' Finan said as he finally approached you, 'I owe you an apology.'

'Apology?' Sihtric frowned as he pulled you in his arms, 'what did he do, darling?'

'Your friend here has been harassing me for days,' you hissed at Finan, 'he heard me vomit one morning, you know, morning sickness, but he thought I caught the sickness.'

'I did,' Finan admitted, 'and I was wrong. I am sorry.'

'Is that why you're not eating as much lately?' Sihtric asked you, 'I noticed it but as you seemed fine otherwise, I didn't want to scare anyone else.'

'Yes,' you admitted, 'I hoped you wouldn't pick up on it, my love. But I've passed those days already,' you smiled, 'I am feeling good now. Just, maybe, a little worried about the pup, you know? Of course the sickness worries me too.'

'Lady,' Finan said, 'I promise I will look out for you,' he looked at Sihtric, 'I promise, mate. We have to keep your woman safe.'

'I know,' Sihtric swallowed hard, still trying to grasp that he was becoming a father, 'I… I will.'

'We will,' Finan said, 'aye? We will keep her safe.'

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