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Invisible Smoke - Two

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he continues to pry. Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader Word Count: 9.7k A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter, I truly wasn’t expecting it. I apologize for the wait, but hopefully the length will make up for it! Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, themes of stalking, cursing, mentions of terminal and life-threatening illnesses, and combative fluff :)

The ceremony was wonderful if not a little long winded but you hardly cared as you stood with the rest of the crowd to cheer as Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson presented the Daggers, officially a squadron of Lieutenant Commanders. You caught Rooster’s eye, having watched Captain Mitchell pin the leaves to his uniform, and saw that he still had tears lining his lower lashes. You winked at him, earning a small smile and a bit of pink in his cheeks. You were so proud.

“I’m so happy for him!” Came a warbled voice and you held the phone in your hand a little higher. This wasn’t exactly how you thought you’d meet Jake’s family (not that you had ever given it much thought, really) but when he’d explained that his family couldn’t make it out to the ceremony for one reason or another, you had volunteered to make sure their FaceTime was at the right angle so they could see everything. There were four of them all crammed together—his mother, Sandra, and three sisters, Mia, Kelly, and Alex—staring at what you assumed was an iPad with how Sandra was holding it; blonde heads swiveling together to track Jake’s movements on the stage had been quite the spectacle but when you had glanced up to see Jake looking at you with the biggest, brightest smile you had ever seen it had nearly made you drop the phone.

Embarrassing.

As the ceremony wrapped up and the crowd started to disperse, you lingered near your chair and watched as everyone else reunited with the family that came to watch the ceremony, shook hands with the brass, or hurried off to the Hard Deck to celebrate because Captain Mitchell had, unsurprisingly, sweet talked Penny into letting them take over (again). You waved Tasha on when she went to wait for you and she frowned but did eventually leave, looping her arm through her older sister’s before disappearing out into the parking lot.

“Is my son making you wait?”

You glanced down at the phone with a smile. “He’s schmoozing with some of the big wigs. I’m in no rush to go anywhere.”

Sandra hummed, green eyes narrowing behind her glasses as she paused. It was almost comical how much the expression reminded you of Jake when he was thinking of something. “Well, sugar, I hate to ask this, but could you remind me of your name?”

You gave it readily but added, “most call me Punch.”

Mia once again appeared on screen, leaning down with a matching squint. “Punch?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story but-”

“Oh, we’ve heard of you.”

That had your brow pinching and you fought the urge to bring the phone closer to your face as if that would help you decipher the look on Jake’s sister’s face. All you managed to say was, “oh?”

A smile started to stretch across Mia’s face. “Don’t worry. All good things.”

The phone was snatched out of your hands before you could ask just what the hell that meant and you turned to see Jake smiling at his family on the little screen. “Hi, mama.”

“Jacob Seresin!” Sandra started. “Did you make Punch wait when she was doing you a favor?”

If possible, Jake’s smile widened and his sea glass gaze shifted to you. “Already ganging up on me with my mom?”

“Your family is a delight,” you drawled. “You must be adopted.”

There was an answering laugh that had Jake’s cheeks turning a light shade of pink before he nudged at your arm with the flat of his palm. “Get out of here.”

“It was nice to meet you, Sandra!” You hollered, already turned toward the door.

Sandra’s laugh rang out again and you walked out to the car, thankful to see a few small groups of people still milling about in the warm San Diego sun. You were quick to get into your car and lock the door behind you before curling your hands over the steering wheel. Your next breath was a slow, stuttering sigh. It had only been four days since you had seen him in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Lurking.

Smirking.

And it had been four days since you felt like you could actually breathe. A familiar pressure on your chest had been your constant companion. You knew it was part of your anxiety, a physical manifestation of your fear. You were still on that metaphorical cliff, waiting to fall. You leaned back against the seat and tried to drag in another breath but it was like your lungs couldn’t expand. Pressing your hands over your stomach you tried again and again and again until the ache lessened enough for you to continue to pretend.

Pretend to be normal.

Pretend to be okay.

You’d nearly blown it when Jake had walked you out of the Hard Deck. But maybe he just thought you really wanted to get away from him and brushed it off, thinking you were in a mood. He had only texted to make sure you made it home okay and you’d spent the rest of the night on the couch with a baseball bat clutched in a shaking grip. But you had continued on. Going to work. Putting on a smile and a brave face. Keeping your mouth shut. It was better this way.

With another stilted breath, you grabbed your bag from your backseat and changed out of your uniform and into the dress you’d picked for the night before driving off base. The Hard Deck’s parking lot was already starting to reach capacity so you took the first space you could find and smoothed out your dress as your car beeped, letting you know the doors were locked. The inside of the naval bar was just as busy as the parking lot and you dodged an elbow of someone playing darts not two steps in. Weaving through the crowd, you waved at a few familiar faces—mostly other ADs grouped near one of the windows—and waited to finally make it up to the bar. Jimmy and Penny were both fixing drinks and a few other employees were picking up empty glasses left abandoned on high tops and booths. It might be a minute.

“Hey.”

You looked to the side with a smile and pulled Bob into a hug which he quickly reciprocated. “Hey yourself, Lieutenant Commander Floyd.”

Bob’s cheeks flushed a tiny bit and he adjusted his grip on the hat beneath his arm as you stepped back. “You’ve got to meet my brother before he flies out.”

“Of course. But first, let me buy you a drink.” And as he opened his mouth to protest, you shook your head. “You wouldn’t let me do anything else so I’m buying you a drink.” Bob sighed but dutifully followed you up to the bar and let you pay for his ginger ale but grumbled when you insisted on buying his brother’s drink, too. You also had Penny put together a round for the Daggers you knew would be circling the pool tables soon enough. Bob helped you carry everything toward the table where his brother was waiting. You’d ‘met’ Bob’s brother, Harrison, a few times when you accidentally barged in on Bob FaceTiming his family but it was nice to finally meet him in person. He was just as charming as Bob but had a few more extroverted tendencies and regaled you with stories about the year he took off before medical school to ‘visit’ Bob who was stationed in Hawaii and spent the entire time learning to surf and trying to teach Bob, too.

“I never quite got the hang of it,” Bob admitted, still sipping on his ginger ale.

“You tried your best!” Harrison said with a kind smile. But soon his phone was beeping and he grimaced before standing from the table. “All right. I’ve gotta catch my flight back to New York.”

“Let me know when you land,” Bob murmured as he stood and wrapped him in a hug.

You might have heard a muffled ‘of course,’ before they separated but you definitely heard Harrison say, “I’m so proud of you.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder again before turning to you with a smile and he surprised you with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“That’s mostly Phoenix,” you said with a smile.

But Harrison shook his head. “I’m sure it is a team effort. Now, keep in touch, okay?” And then he breezed away, disappearing into the crowd and probably into a waiting taxi outside.

You spoke for a little longer, mostly about the ceremony and how Cyclone actually seemed like a human instead of a robot the last handful of days but Admiral Cain still seemed like a douchebag of the highest order. By now the rest of the Daggers had arrived, to much fanfare in the bar, and would sometimes filter by the table to grab a beer and chat for a bit—Natasha’s sister was a riot and had Tasha’s blushing a surprising shade of scarlet after telling you and Bob a particularly embarrassing story about “baby Tash” trying to jump off the roof with a bedsheet cape before she, too, had to leave to catch a flight back home. And you almost hated that you knew the exact moment Jake entered the bar, like you couldn’t help but turn toward him whenever he appeared, like a sunflower facing the sun. Again…embarrassing. However, you noticed Bob kept looking at the group of women circled around one of the high tops and you nudged his shoulder with your own. “Don’t,” he muttered.

“What?” You asked, fighting a smile.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He took another sip of his ginger ale and shook his head. “It isn’t happening.”

“And why not? You deserve someone nice. They look nice…for the most part,” you added with a scrunch of your nose. “Maybe the blonde in the red dress looks a bit mean, but the rest of them look nice. Want me to go over there and test the waters? I can see which ones would be down to handle that sword-”

“Punch!” It was honestly impressive how quickly Bob’s face went a violent shade of scarlet and he nearly dropped his pop.

“You got a sword with your promotion. I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I am a lady, Bobert.”

He snorted and knuckled at his glasses to push them up again. “Sure. Sure you are, Punch.”

Then you laughed. You laughed and that weight in your chest cracked and fizzled out. For now, you could breathe again. Bob eventually got you up and away from the table with the promise to take it easy on you with a game of pool—he lied. The WSO absolutely demolished you in an embarrassingly quick game.

“That was brutal,” Tasha said as she grabbed a beer.

“It was.” You handed her the cue with a wince. “But, to make it up to me, Bob now has to let me test the waters with the ladies he’s been eyeing all night.”

Tasha glanced over at the group when you tilted your head in their direction and hummed. “Not the blonde in the red dress. She looks mean.”

Bob just groaned. “Please keep the sword innuendos to a minimum.”

“Why? You need someone who knows how to handle that ceremonial saber-”

The sound of someone choking on their beer had you all turning to see Jake wiping at his face. Tasha, smirking, smacked him on the back a few times to ‘help.’ He nudged her away with a halfhearted scowl as he licked the last few drops from his lips. “Jesus.”

“What?”

Jake’s smirk vanished but you could tell he was fighting to keep it down as his brows furrowed in an echo of a certain Admiral’s disappointed frown. “So crass-”

“Oh, blow me, Ken. It isn’t like you don’t have a list of sword-related pickup lines or nicknames at the ready.”

Tasha laughed into her beer and you felt a little zing of pride—you always did when you made her laugh.

“You did call that one barracks bunny a sword swallower,” Rooster said, cutting into conversation with ease. And it was then that the party really seemed to start and you let Tasha pull you into a game of darts (you lost) before you did actually try to get a read on the group of women and deciding that, actually, they all seemed a little mean and they were more interested in Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson anyway, if their drunken whispers were anything to go by.

You’d find a lady for Bob. One day.

After watching Bradley and Tasha beat Billy and Neil at pool and finally finishing your drink, you remembered Sarah’s invitation and stepped to Bradley’s side again as he went to grab another beer from the table. As soon as you were within reach, he slung an arm over your shoulders and hauled you closer. “You doing okay?” He asked, voice low.

You sagged in his grip, a reaction you couldn’t fight. He made you feel safe. He always did. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

You winced at the tone. He had an innate way of knowing you were feeling off. And you hadn’t been exactly subtle in how you were acting lately. But you didn’t want to put more on Bradley’s plate, not now. Not when he was high on the new hardware on his collar. “Yeah,” you said, trying to sound convincing before changing the subject. “Sarah’s throwing an engagement party for Junior. She said I could bring someone and I thought you’d like to go? I know it’s been a minute since you’ve seen them all.”

Bradley set down his beer with a nod, licking the droplets from his lips. “When is it?”

“Friday.” And your heart plummeted as Bradley’s face crumpled and his arm slipped from your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Punch, but I promised Mav I’d help him haul in a part for his plane—we’re leaving at like five in the morning on Saturday.”

You nodded as you pinched your lower lip between your fingers until Bradley swatted it away with a knowing look. “I can ask Bob-”

“Bob and Phoenix have been asked to speak in Annapolis this weekend.”

Fuck. Fuck! You knew that. How could you forget? He’d been so excited when he got the call to lead a few classes back at his alma mater. “This is fine. I can just go by my-”

“I’ll go with you.”

Jake heard something in your neck pop with how quickly you turned your head to look at him. “What?”

And Jake almost recoiled at the amount of shock in your tone. “I mean, if you need someone to go with you.” Then, when neither you or Bradley said anything, Jake was about to retract his offer, already feeling stupid for opening his mouth in the first place. Usually he’d be more conscious to not let anyone know he was eavesdropping but the four beers he’d had probably loosened his tongue and he’d pounced at the opportunity to take you anywhere before he could stop himself with thoughts of repercussions. “I-”

“You’d do that?” And Jake hated how small your voice was, barely heard over the noise of the bar.

“Yeah. ‘Course.” And your smile was near blinding, twisting at something Jake didn’t want to acknowledge behind his ribs.

He listened intently to what the party was about—engagement for your not-actual-little brother, and when you’d pick him up—“I’m driving, you’re going to have to deal with it,” and what was expected—“just have a good time. And sign the card I’m buying, you can take half the credit for the gift I’m bringing, too.”

It sounded like it could be a good time. But if you smiled at him like that again, he’d probably agree to anything. You also told Jake to be ready by 18:20 next Friday so you’d be on time for the party and then Jake tried to ignore how that familiar feeling came roaring back in the confines of his chest as he watched you walk back toward the bar.

A hand clapping on his shoulder pulled Jake from admiring how your hips swayed with each step and he turned to see Rooster still standing beside him. His hazel eyes went from Jake to you and then back to Jake. “Let’s have a chat, Bagman.”

Fuck.

By the time you swiped a bit of tinted balm over your lips, you’d told yourself sixteen times that you were making a mistake but, “it would be fine.” You checked your watch and nodded: you were still on time. Early, actually. Jake would meet you at the Hard Deck and then you’d drive you both over to the Kazansky home to save room on the driveway—knowing Sarah, she’d probably invited half the people in her contacts and would still consider it a small party.

And you were contemplating texting Jake and telling him to forget it and that you’d go by yourself. It was too risky. Too intimate. Accepting his offer to go with you had been stupid. And choosing a dress that you knew made your tits look good because you’d caught Jake looking at you the last time you wore a dress like this was also very, very stupid. But when your phone chirped and Jake’s text lit up the screen—“Ready when you are, Punch!”—you knew it was too late.

And really…didn’t you deserve to have a good night?

He had robbed you of enough, hadn’t he? You could have one night. And there was a small bit of you that hoped he was satisfied with just scaring you once.

When you pulled into the Hard Deck’s parking lot, you were barely stopped before the passenger side door opened and Jake slid in with a bright smile and filled your car with the scent of his cologne—leather and oak moss and something distinctly Jake. “Ready?”

“Do you usually hurl yourself into moving vehicles or is that a recent addition to your lengthy list of ways you are a man-child?”

Jake’s smile widened. “You keeping lists about me?”

You resisted the urge to smack his arm and scowled instead as you reached into the backseat to grab the card you’d picked and made sure to hit him in the chest with it and the pen you wrestled from the bottom of your purse. “Sign that.”

Jake clicked the pen several times as he read over the mushy words Hallmark had written for a recently engaged couple and you drummed your fingers against the steering wheel as you slowed to a stop at a red light. If he said anything about the paragraph you wrote you might just-

“This is a nice card.” He then signed his name with a flourish and tucked it into the envelope. “What gift did you get them?”

“We got them an engagement photo shoot with a photographer who I may or may not have bombarded with emails and bribed after realizing Taylor follows her on instagram.” Were you proud of that? Not really. But you had felt extraordinarily bad after realizing that Junior had texted you after he proposed and you hadn’t responded until two weeks later. You knew he’d say there was nothing to apologize for but you still felt the need to make up for it.

“No, Punch,” he started. “My mama told me to never take credit for something I didn’t do. That gift is from you. I got them this.” He held up a bottle of champagne that you knew cost a few hundred dollars with a little silver bow taped to the neck. How you managed to miss that when he basically threw himself into your car, you’d never know (you were probably distracted by the way his thighs flexed beneath his nice trousers).

But it didn’t matter. You sealed the card after slipping the photographer’s business card inside. “It would’ve been fine, you know. But I’m sure they’ll love the champagne, too.”

Jake’s chest puffed a bit at that and you tried to not look too much at the tan skin that was revealed with the movement nor the silver links of his dog tags you knew were hiding beneath his obscenely tight shirt. You failed. And when he caught you looking, his smirk returned.

You couldn’t have that. “Careful, Ken. If you pop a button I’ll have to drop you on the nearest street corner.”

And then the asshole actually unbuttoned the next button. “I like to think I’d be a high-end escort. Like for senators.”

The answering laugh punched out of you before you could even pretend to not find him funny.

The rest of the drive was spent slapping his hand away from the radio when he said your taste in music was terrible—even when you caught him singing along with Stevie on your preferred classic rock station. It was good and easy and you almost hated it by the time you parked outside Sarah’s house, managing to snag a place beside the mailbox.

Jake was at your side before you reached the front door and knocked his foot into yours when you sucked in a breath before knocking at the front door. Yeah. Coming with him was a mistake. A beautiful, terrible mistake.

Jake had never been to the Kazansky home. On the ride over, you gave him a rundown on who he needed to know—Missus Kazansky, Junior and his fiancée Taylor, and younger sister Lily—and how to behave. It was mostly good natured ribbing and an actual threat to push him out a window if he hit on Lily.

“Okay, no Lily, but Missus Kazansky is free game?” That quip had earned him a glare so intense he would swear he saw his life flash before his eyes.

Worth it.

After all, it wasn’t all that often that Jake got to see you like this. Sure, he saw you in uniform on base and you had the innate ability to have a spare change of clothes wherever you went so you were never in uniform when you didn’t need to be so he got to see you in civvies often. But that was usually jeans and t-shirts. Maybe that one pair of shorts he thought about when he couldn’t sleep, if he was lucky.

But right now you were in another dress and he could see the thighs that he definitely didn’t dream about peeking out from the skirt as you shifted your weight from foot to foot. You were…

He couldn’t say gorgeous.

He couldn’t say beautiful.

He couldn’t say stunning.

So, you were special. And right now, as you waited at his side for the door to open, he could smell your perfume. Gardenias and sunshine.

His grandmother had special flower beds just for her gardenias—she once said that the soil in southern Texas was too acidic for her favorite flower but she was determined to have them near the ranch and had planter boxes filled with specialty soil and heaps of the flowers. All of his favorite memories of home were filled with the scent of the small white blooms.

And then there was you. You smelled like home.

The door opened and a petite blonde smiled at you before wrapping you in a quick hug. “Oh, sweetheart, you know you don’t need to knock.”

“Old habits,” you murmured as you returned the hug. When you stepped back, you gestured to Jake. “This is Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin. He’s part of the Dagger Squadron with Bradley. Jake, this is Sarah Kazansky.”

After shaking her hand and murmuring his thanks for letting him tag along, Jake stood a little straighter as Missus Kazansky’s eyes looked him over. “You’re Hangman, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you from Pete.” Then, without giving any indication as to what that meant, she waved you in and Jake followed suit. The inside of the large house was filled with people with champagne flutes in their hands as soft pop ballads from decades ago filtered through a hidden sound system, crooning about love.

You complimented Sarah on the tasteful decorations and earned yourself a motherly pat to your cheek before she called out for someone. There was an answering squeal and you shoved the card in your hand to Jake just in time to brace as a younger woman wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!”

You laughed and returned the hug before holding her at arm's length with a smile. “Pasadena looks good on you! And you’re so close to graduating!”

This must be Lily, then. Jake watched you talk with her for a moment, seeing you smile as you traded a few short stories and Lily tugged at the skirt of your dress with a mischievous look in her eye. “You’ve gotta tell me where you bought this. You’re a bombshell.”

You waved away the compliment—as Jake knew you often did—and rattled off some store name as Lily shook her head.

“No, no. Take the compliment. You look gorgeous.” Then Lily’s sharp eyes moved to Jake. Jesus Christ. She was Ice Man’s daughter—that look was cold and calculating. “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

And Jake’s mouth opened-

“Lily, c’mon. Stop it.” Your voice was nearly a whine. “This is Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin. He is one of the Daggers with me at Top Gun. Jake, this is Lily Kazansky. She’s about to graduate from Cal Tech with her degree in Engineering and applied science.”

A matching smile pushed at Lily’s mouth as her eyes raked over him. While Jake usually preened over such an obvious once-over, there was absolutely nothing wanting in her gaze. And maybe having you standing beside him helped…but he wasn’t going to address that. “Hangman. Yeah. I’ve heard of you.” Then Lily’s gaze flickered to you. “Enjoy the party. I think Mom needs my help in the kitchen.” And then she flounced away as you sighed.

“She’s…”

“Don’t say it,” you griped, pulling the envelope out of his grasp again.

“I was going to say intense.”

You nodded as you gnawed on your bottom lip before grabbing the champagne Jake was still holding and setting it on the gift table behind you. “She’s all Tom. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s running the Pacific Fleet by the time she’s forty.” But you waved that away, too, and tugged at his arm, leading him toward the exorbitant spread of finger foods on another table a few paces away. You snagged him a flute of champagne as you handed him a plate and then Jake let you wrangle you both onto a pair of the few remaining empty seats near the kitchen bar.

“Not going to mingle?”

“God, no. I hate mingling. You are free to go off and schmooze, if you want. There are a few people here you may know—probably shook hands with them at your ceremony.” You waved your flute toward a group of middle aged men near the fireplace and, yes, Jake knew them. All of them were upper echelons of the Navy brass and had congratulated him on the promotion. “I won’t hold your seat though.”

Jake laughed and shook his head. “I think I’m good right where I am, Punch. But thank you.” He glanced over at the men to see them already looking in your direction. They each raised their highball glasses with practiced smiles which you and Jake reciprocated with a tip of your champagne flutes. “You sure you don’t want to talk to them?”

You shrugged as you turned back to your food, plucking a small cube of cheese from the assortment and eating it quickly. “If I wanted to talk to them, I could’ve done it at barbecues or one of Sarah’s soirées that she liked to host. I just…don’t care enough. I climbed up the ranks by accident mostly. I like where I am.”

Jake frowned at that. “What do you mean?” You were headstrong and tenacious. Not having drive or ambition just didn’t line up with what he knew about you, with how you presented yourself.

You popped a cherry tomato into your mouth and chewed and swallowed before answering, almost like you were stalling for time. “I’m not a lifer like you, Jake. I didn’t dream of joining the navy as a kid or anything like that. You probably had a vision board or something, right? Asked for model planes since you could talk. You look the type. Probably ate some of the pieces, too.”

But Jake didn’t take the bait and he’d never admit that he did swallow lego when he was seven. “Then why did you enlist? You could go anywhere.”

You were quiet again and that familiar twist in his chest returned as your lips pushed up in a small smile. Then your eyes searched his face, visibly debating something, and you must have found what you were looking for because you nodded, just once, unknowingly twisting the knife you didn’t know you held. “You caught me in a good mood. I’ll tell you. No one will believe you, but I’ll tell you.”

He resisted the urge to grab at your hand and just hold it as he said, “try me.”

“Sparknotes version?”

Jake wanted to know everything. Wanted to ask you to tell him every little detail so he could know you better than anyone else. But he could wait. Maybe. “Sure.”

“My little brother, Danny, got sick his first year of high school. Really sick. Expensive sick. I was in my last year of school and had the choice to either go to university or find a job that could help with the bills.” Your next breath had your shoulders sagging. “The Navy was the only recruitment office that wasn’t on lunch when I walked in. Four days after graduating high school, I was shipping off for training. Then I was volunteering for any deployment that my commanding officers even hinted at because I knew that deployment meant more pay. So, I was accidentally a decorated AD because I was desperate.”

Jake felt you jump when his hand landed on yours as it rested on the table beside him but you didn’t pull away so he selfishly curled his fingers over your wrist, content to feel the warmth you exuded. He remembered the photo on your desk and the soft look you’d been giving him—that was your baby brother. “Is he-”

“Oh, he’s fine now. Finishing up his doctorate at MIT.” Another smile pushed at your lips as you shook your head before your other hand settled over Jake’s. “Healthy as can be. Lily actually reminds me a lot of Danny. Both of them hated their English classes in high school. They’d prefer to have a root canal than write a book report. I probably did too much to actually have them learn anything about The Catcher in the Rye or Persuasion, but I just wanted to see them succeed.”

Jake’s heart leapt when he felt your thumb sweep over his knuckles as you kept looking out over the crowd. It was just a little touch. A little brush of your skin on his. And it was…special.

But as soon as it started, it stopped as you pulled your hands away from him and waved at someone in the crowd. “There’s the couple of the hour.”

Jake turned to see a younger blond guy with his arm wrapped around a smiling brunette. She’d reached up to tangle her fingers with his, showing off the massive rock on her finger. They must be Junior and Taylor—the pair certainly had that look about them that all newly engaged couples had. Well, almost all couples. Jake knew some weren’t so fortunate.

You hopped off the seat and dragged Junior and Taylor into quick hugs as Jake followed suit and stood, shaking both their hands as you introduced him. You oohed and ahhhed over the engagement ring and poked at Junior’s cheek when he blushed as Taylor recounted the story of the proposal. You handed over the card and Jake saw you curl your hands into fists behind your back as Junior opened it almost immediately.

Just as she finished reading, Taylor all but launched herself at you and Jake had to keep you upright by catching you at the hips when you started to teeter backward. And, only for a moment, Jake thought about doing this with you all the time. Thought about showing you off at parties, watching you smile, keeping you upright with a laugh on your tongue. The invisible knife twisted again as Junior caught his eye and arched a brow after glancing at his hands on your hips.

“Oh! I can’t believe it! This is so kind!” Taylor turned to Junior with a beaming smile, waving the business card like a flag, and explained that she actually followed the photographer on Instagram and loved her work, just as you’d said in the car.

Jake felt you relax in his grip at that, a relief to know your gift was well received. “I’ve made a list of all the weekends she has available for the next six weeks. She said you two would have first dibs—you just need to call her and tell her what date and time works for you.” You’d off-handedly mentioned that both Taylor and Junior were in the middle of their medical school residencies and were rarely free for more than a few hours at a time every other week.

You spoke a little longer and Jake earned a bright smile from Taylor when he said that she and Junior would probably be the photographer’s most liked post on her page—he also earned an elbow to the gut from you, too. Jake didn’t care, not when he heard you laugh.

“But we’ll let you get back to your other guests. Thanks for letting me hold you up for a little.”

Junior frowned and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You’re never holding us up.”

“You’re always welcome,” Taylor said with another brilliant smile.

You nodded with a matching smile and mentioned that Jake had brought a bottle of champagne and Junior was the one to smile this time. “That’s my favorite bottle, man, thanks!”

Then you spun in Jake’s hold and all but shoved him backward toward your abandoned seats and the smile you gave him had his entire chest aching. “They’re so happy. Don’t they look happy?”

And he had to smile, too. “They do, Punch.”

But your eyes tracked to something over his shoulder and Jake turned to see you looking at that same group of men from earlier and you rolled your spine, straightening your posture. “I’m going to introduce you.”

“I thought you said you didn’t talk to them.”

“I don’t. Not as Naval officers, anyway. They think I’m like a very distantly related and adopted niece or something. They know me but don’t…know me, you know?”

Jake resisted the urge to roll his eyes but simply said, “no.”

“Doesn’t matter. C’mon, let me get you promoted again.” You were then a flurry of demure smiles and careful introductions that seemed to instantly endear you to the group of brass and Jake was readily folded into their conversations as you slipped away from his side with a wink and a mouthed “you owe me!” after being talked over twice—maybe they really didn’t have any clue that you were in the Navy as well. It almost made Jake want to excuse himself, too. But he knew you’d probably chew him out for that. Rooster’s ‘talk’ from the other night on the Hard Deck came ringing through his mind: “There’s another reason we call her punch. She can roll with the punches. But that doesn’t mean she should have to. If she comes to me on Monday and says anything about you ruining her night, I’ll shoot you out of the sky.”

You knew that officer promotions were always a game of politics and who you know so getting Jake on a friendly basis with men like this was invaluable. So, yes, Jake did owe you. But he was having a hard time fully investing in the ham-handed conversations and when he was halfheartedly listening to Rear Admiral Cunningham speak about his latest secretary snafu, Jake caught you moving through the crowd with Lily hot on your heels and a laugh on your tongue. He could hear it over the din of the party and he felt himself smiling despite knowing he shouldn’t in the present company. You and Lily were soon joined by Sarah and three of you danced around a little, sipping on canned sparkling waters. When Taylor and Junior joined in the impromptu dance party, he could hear your excited laughter.

Jake remembered that you sat with the Kazansky family during the funeral, holding Lily’s hand as she sobbed. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now he could see it. You were one of them, unofficially of course. An older sister to the kids. Another daughter to Sarah and Admiral Kazansky, if he was willing to bet.

You were special.

The party had continued on. The dancing you and Lily had started had somehow sprouted to most of Junior and Taylor’s friends and the living room had transformed into a dance floor. You noticed Jake stepped out onto the back porch with the group of brass and tried to tell yourself that the pride you felt was purely coincidental. That you would have introduced any of the Daggers to them and wished them the best. Really. The warmth you felt wasn’t anything other than friendly. Really. But by 10, the party was wrapping up—Lily needed to drive back to Pasadena and Junior was murmuring with a few of his friends about an “after party”—and you’d started helping Sarah clean up as people filtered out. The kids had each given you a squeeze before leaving and promised to text you when they got home.

As you tugged a trash bag around the living room and tossed the paper plates into it, you glanced up to see Jake taking a handful of half-filled champagne flutes into the kitchen. The few sentences you’d exchanged with Missus Seresin during the promotion ceremony did give you a bit of insight into Jake’s upbringing—you could see a little Jake helping in the kitchen, being told how to properly wash pans and how to keep an eye on a boiling pot under the watchful eye of his mother or older sisters.

But you weren’t supposed be thinking about that and shook it away with a grimace as you yawned. You grabbed another stack of discarded plates and pushed them into the bag with a little more force than what was necessary as Jake circled back into the living room.

Sarah stepped to your side with a tired smile of her own. “You can stay here, sweetheart. We still have your room upstairs.” She then turned to Jake with a smile. “The bed is big enough.”

You choked on your next breath and Jake patted your back as he fought a smile. “We-” you wheezed the word.

“We’re not together, but you’re kind to offer.”

Pink flooded Sarah’s cheeks and she pressed a hand over her mouth for a moment. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought…” She waved it away. “Either way, both of you are welcome to stay the night.”

“I think we’re actually going to head out as soon as everything’s cleaned up. Thank you again for inviting me and letting me bring a friend along.”

Sarah hummed as she tried to nudge the couch back into its usual position and watched as Jake quickly took over the task without issue before once again starting to grab the remaining flutes left by the window sill and take them to the kitchen—you heard him carefully putting them into the dishwasher. “Yes, a friend.”

Embarrassment burned and clawed at your throat and you turned away to see if there were any other plates for you to throw away. “Barely a friend.”

“Sure, sweetheart. I definitely can see where I got confused with the way you were smiling at him and the way he looks at you like you hung the stars. My mistake.”

“He doesn’t.” The words were barely more than squeaks. “And…and I don’t smile at him like anything.”

Sarah hummed, again. “Whatever you say.”

You tried not to think about Sarah’s words as you settled back into your car a few minutes later. Jake let out a sigh as he buckled in and you tried to ignore how his cologne once again filled the small space. And it was so strange that your body seemed to seize and relax at the same time because of it. Like you were fighting two separate and equal instincts.

“Thanks for coming tonight. I hope you had fun,” you said as you pulled away from the curb, waving at Sarah through the windshield.

“They certainly know how to throw a party.”

“This was tame. One time Junior threw a rager when his parents were out of town and his entire fraternity swarmed the house.” You smiled at the memory, remembering ordering a group of frat boys around at the crack of dawn to clean the house before his parents got home. Junior baked you a cake in thanks after learning you’d been the one to stall Tom and Sarah for a few extra hours by suggesting they stop for brunch on their way back. Lily had done the same after you’d helped her get all the bubbles out of the hot tub after she and her friends had filled it with something you’d rather not mention.

Jake was quiet for a moment as you turned down the street, heading toward the highway. “How do you know them? I mean, you seem pretty close.”

Your tongue pressed against your cheek as you thought about how to phrase your answer. Had to be careful. Had to make sure you didn’t reveal something you shouldn’t. “Bradley introduced us.” There, that was vague enough. “Admiral Kazansky was good to me. His family looked after me during a really weird time in my life and I tried to repay that kindness, in any way I could. After all, I did have some experience with what they needed.” You sighed and scraped the edge of your thumbnail against your lip. You’d been the one to deal with the home care nurses when Sarah needed a break. You knew a few ways to help Tom be comfortable through his treatments and he seemed to be grateful that he didn’t need to ask for them, keeping a little bit of his pride. You’d been so hopeful when he’d gone into remission but tried to keep it together when it had come back. You were happy to play the part of stalwart supporter when the prognosis came back grim. “They’re good people.”

Your stomach churned when you thought of why you’d met the Kazansky family but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. But you changed the subject, asking about the surely-dull conversations Jake had with the brass as you merged onto the highway.

“…if I ever get that boring, you have my permission to smack me,” he finished with a grimace.

“You’d probably like that too much. You’re just going to have to be boring and live with the consequences.” Proving your point, Jake smiled when you smacked his hand away from your radio again. There was no way you were changing the station when David Bowie was singing. Absolutely not. And then when “Rhiannon” came on next, you made sure to crank the volume as Jake pretended to not know the words.

You were having a great time. Really. And it was a little terrifying how easily he made you laugh when he finally gave in and started to croon (a little off key) alongside your pitchy warbling. But it petered out as Jake looked back with a squint but turned forward with a frown. When he turned to look back again you turned down the radio with a frown of your own and glanced in your rear view mirror. “What is it?”

“The car behind you keeps speeding up and slowing down.”

While keeping an eye on the traffic in front of you, you looked at the car Jake pointed out and your stomach sunk to your feet as you watched it drive under the next streetlight.

It was a black ‘67 Dodge Charger with a distinctive sword charm hanging from the rear view mirror.

You knew that car. You knew that charm.

And despite the shadows of the car hiding the driver’s face, you knew who was behind the wheel.

And just as that realization dawned on you, the charger’s brights flashed and you winced as the lights flooded your car.

“What is this guy’s problem?” Jake grumbled, turning back around to stare.

“I…” What could you possibly say? You couldn’t tell Jake. Wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever. But it didn’t matter because the next time you glanced in the rear view you realized the charger was about to ram into the back of your car. You stomped on the gas and the engine roared as you tried to avoid the collision.

But he kept coming.

Your heart clawed its way up behind your teeth as you merged into the next lane over, earning an angry honk from a Jeep for not using your turn signal, and the charger sped past and you almost thought you were in the clear but then he was merging too, slamming on his brakes and you had to swerve back into the other lane to avoid crashing into his trunk.

“Jesus!” Jake yelled.

“I-I’m sorry!” The words were torn from your throat but you doubted Jake heard them over the barrages of angry honks and the thundering of your car’s engine, nearly drowned out by the growl of the charger’s overpowered mechanics.

The charger moved, keeping pace with your car and you were only given a warning in the form of Jake yelling before you realized that the car was coming into your lane. You yanked the wheel, nearly hitting the dividing wall as you avoided it and pressed the accelerator to the floor. You weaved around two cars, earning more honks as you used the shoulder to gain distance, and then noticed the next exit was only half a mile away. You needed to get off the highway.

“Fuck!”

The charger followed you onto the shoulder and you knew you had to move. Now or never. You moved across the highway and nearly clipped the barrier as you shot onto the off-ramp, a cacophony of squealing brakes and horns providing a terrible soundtrack to your horrendous driving. But it worked. You saw the charger try to get to the exit, too, and miss. He had to drive on. Away from you.

You hardly remember driving the rest of the way back to the Hard Deck in silence, your heart still stuck behind your teeth. Every few seconds, you’d check your rear view mirror but you didn’t see that car again. When you parked in the Hard Deck’s lot, you finally peeled your hands away from the steering wheel and your fingers shook and ached.

“What the fuck was that?” Jake asked after a stretch of silence.

You tried to suck in a breath and only managed to make your lungs burn. You needed to calm down. Needed it. Needed… “I-I have to call Bradley,” you muttered, shaking hand scrambling through the contents of your purse to grab at your phone. “I have to-”

“What’s Bradshaw going to do? He’s out in the desert with Mav. I’m right here, Punch. Tell me.”

But you only shook your head and had your phone dialing Bradley’s number before it even reached your ear. But it rang. And rang. And rang.

“This is Bradshaw. Can’t come to the phone right now-”

Fuck. You killed the call with an unsteady breath and none too gently shoved your phone back into your purse before pressing your nails into your thighs, needing to feel something other than your racing heart. Tiny pinpricks of pain zipped up your leg and you let your head fall back against the headrest before uncurling your hands. This was better. This was okay. You’d made it. For now, you were okay. “I…need a drink.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.”

You turned to the side and felt just a smidge of mortification wash over you as you realized Jake was still sitting there, waiting for you. Fuck. “I’ll get you one, too.” Then you were up and out of your car, hitting the lock button four times just to make sure, and all but stomping into the Hard Deck with Jake on your heels.

It was either a blessing or a curse that none of the other Daggers were at the bar tonight as Jake followed you up to the mostly un-busy bar and rattled off your usual order. “And please get Jake whatever he wants,” you said, handing over your card to Jimmy.

Jake slipped into the barstool at your side and studied you for a moment. It was almost like you hadn’t nearly crashed your car three times or run off the road by a charger with a vendetta. If he didn’t know you better—and Jake tried to ignore that it was becoming clearer by the day that maybe he didn’t know you as well as he thought—he might think you were just out for a nightcap. But the vacancy of your expression was too…careful. Too practiced. It looked like there was a concentrated effort to keep your brow from pinching.

“You wanna tell me what that was back there?” He asked, almost tentative. He just…wanted to make sure you were okay, but he wanted answers, too. The way you were reacting wasn’t normal. The complete shut down of your previous panic wasn’t right.

Your next breath was slow, measured. “I must’ve cut him off or something. Road rage is a hell of a thing.”

Jake bit back the disbelieving comment and thanked Jimmy as he set the drinks down with a small smile and handed back your card. Fine. “So you needed to call Rooster after all that but can’t tell me what you really think happened?” Jake had seen all the close contact between you and Rooster. He’d seen how you’d whisper in the other man’s ear. He had seen how Rooster was always ready for you with a hug or an arm around your shoulder. And no, Jake didn’t hate that. Didn’t hate that you seemed to trust Rooster more than him and he had been the one to be in the car with you tonight. “Is he your boyfriend or something? Fuck buddy?”

Your unamused stare over the edge of your glass had Jake sitting a little straighter. “He’s not my type,” you said with a shrug before downing the rest of the small drink.

“You sure? ‘Cause it sure as hell seems like-”

Your glass hitting the bar top stifled any other words Jake might have said. “Look, I’ve been trying for eighteen months to get Bradley to admit he’s in love with redacted.” You flagged down Jimmy and asked for a refill with an easy smile that evaporated the second you looked back at Jake. Your arched eyebrow had his stomach clenching for several different reasons he didn’t have the time to address. “Any other slightly invasive questions you want to ask? Want to know my social security number? What color of underwear I’m wearing?”

Jake could feel the tips of his ears burning. You were relentless. But good. At least he was getting some sort of reaction out of you. “Those are two wildly different questions, you know.”

“I do know. So, hurry up and ask. I’m giving you until my drink arrives.”

He had a million more questions but he really did need a straight answer. He could be relentless, too. But first: “You literally said redacted.”

“So smart, Ken! Look at you go!”

“Who is redacted?”

The next smile you gave him was all teeth and your tone was as condescending as Cyclone on a bad day, “well, now, Ken, when someone says ‘redacted,’ it means-”

Jake’s hand pressed over your mouth, and he sighed as he felt you frown beneath his palm. Fine. He could switch tactics. He could get one real answer out of you tonight. “You can’t blame me for thinking that something else is going on. Do you love him?”

You peeled his hand away from your face as your new drink was quickly placed in front of you and you drained it as if you needed it to deal with him. “You know, there is a Greek word,Philia. It’s one of the different types of love from Greek Philosophy-”

“Punch-”

“And it’s a brotherly love. But since I know you won’t take that as an answer, no. I don’t love him in the way you’re insinuating. And he doesn’t love me that way, either.” The look in your eyes reminded Jake of someone having just come down after g-loc as your fingernail tapped against the glass’ base. Click. Click. Click. “Bradley has seen me at my lowest. Bob, too. Sometimes I think they only keep me around so I don't do something stupid.” Your mouth rolled to the side as the tapping stopped and you pushed the glass away before reaching for your purse.

“That’s not true-”

“Look, tonight has been weird. Okay? Can’t deny that. I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.” You shook your head as you pulled out a few bills for a tip and the second drink and set them under your empty glass. And you wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t even turn toward him again. Jake’s hands curled into fists at his sides to fight the urge to reach out to you, to try to let you know that he would do it all again. All of it. “Thank you for coming with me tonight. I owe you.” And then you turned and left.

Driving home shouldn’t be a problem, right? You just needed to put the key in the ignition, shift into drive, and go home. But you just couldn’t move. Couldn’t pull your eyes away from the dark dashboard.

He had found you while you were on the road. He had tried to crash your car. He had tried to run you off the road. He had tried to kill you.

While Jake was in the car with you.

Tears burned your eyes and you limply let them fall, your hands not moving from your lap. A familiar, dull ringing settled over your ears and you slumped further into your seat, only to feel your entire body go rigid as you heard someone stepping up to your car, sand sliding beneath their shoes on the pavement.

You swung around as the door opened, ready to fight, ready to scream, but felt yourself deflate as Jake leaned down, shoving his way into the car to haul you closer, warm, muscular arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. And that just about broke you. The first sob was ripped out of your throat and the next followed in rapid succession as you grasped loosely at the front of his shirt. The scent of his expensive cologne was almost calming. Almost comforting.

His hands moved up and down, up and down, along your spine and you vaguely heard him whispering something to you. Something like, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” But it was barely more than white noise to your ears as your body shook. But soon you were pulling back, eyes bleary and itchy. God. You were a mess. There was an apology on the tip of your tongue that died as soon as Jake’s large hand gently, carefully cupped your cheek and his calloused thumb swiped against the delicate half moon of skin beneath your eye.

“Let me drive you home.”

Your chin wobbled with new tears and a fresh wave of self-loathing washed over you but you still nodded. It was a moment of weakness. A moment you were sure you’d regret but you just needed help. Just a little. Just for now. But still, you let Jake help you over the center console and into the passenger seat. Before you had the chance to move, Jake reached over and buckled you in and moved to do the same for himself before he frowned, looking at something on the hood of your car. He stepped out and grabbed something from underneath your windshield wiper.

You frowned as he sat back down. “What is it?”

But Jake didn’t answer, mouth set in a thin line and eyes trained on the thing in his grasp.

Leaning over, your heart almost stopped. It was a Polaroid of you and Jake at the engagement party. It was obviously shot through the window, a glare taking up half the photo. But still, anyone who looked at the picture would see you and Jake, his hands on your hips and smiles on your faces.

Did you have fun at the party? He doesn’t look like your type

“Jake, I…” Your throat was scratchy. Arid.

“What does this mean, Punch?”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think! I’d love to hear your theories. Also, as an aside, I do not keep a tag list. I’m sorry!

#Jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #Hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #tgm #top gun maverick #female reader

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sleeplesssmoll · 2 months

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Reverse 1999 Connections to History: Wandering Womb & Hysteria

Isolde, Evangeline, and many other women were diagnosed with these "afflictions". This is a SFW run-down of Wandering Womb & Hysteria. I won't go into graphic details about anything, but its still one of the darker aspects of history. If this makes you uncomfortable, please skip over this post or stop reading!

For those who read on, we have a special historical figure with a last name you should all be familiar with! I'm excited to share my findings with you! All sources will be listed below. If I was a good Smol I'd include in text citations but I forgot to do it as I went. But who doesn't enjoy a scavenger hunt? Channel your Sonetto energy and read on!

Please feel free to add on or correct anything I got wrong. I left out A LOT for the sake of brevity and sensitivity but there is a lot to chew on in this topic.

Wandering Womb Concept:

Definition: Belief that a displaced uterus caused various medical issues in women.

Description: Aretaeus (2nd century AD) described the uterus as moving freely within the body, reacting to smells, akin to "an animal within an animal."

Scent therapy: Like an animated creature, the uterus was believed to be attracted to sweet and pleasant perfumes and repulsed by foul smells.

However, future generations would move away from blaming the womb and pin the blame on women's "weaker" minds and bodies. It's one of the "illnesses" used to demonize or claim superiority over women. The way this illness was weaponized is extremely sinister but I'll leave it to the reader to look further into that if they want to. A Victorian woman going through menopause was often considered to be emotionally unstable. During this 'climacteric period', she may well have been prescribed leeching or bloodletting from the ankle. Her doctor would have advised against reading novels, going to parties and dancing. For a 45 – 50 year old Victorian woman, an onslaught of instability and madness was considered inevitable. Interesting how the "curse" on the women in Isolde's family killed them before they passed the age of 40.

The bullshitters (There's more well-known men with opinions but I'll keep this short and relevant to Reverse 1999):

Aretaeus: Advocated the mobile uterus theory. The origin of bullshit.

Edward Jorden: Popularized the concept in the 17th century through his treatise "The Suffocation of the Mother" (1603), linking it to hysteria and witchcraft. The spreader of bullshit. The Suffocation of the Mother connected the phenomenon of hysteria with actions like singing, laughing, crying, and choking.

Hysteria:

The idea of hysteria linked to the wandering womb, evolved from ancient Greek "hysterical suffocation." It was described as exhibiting a wide array of symptoms, including anxiety, shortness of breath, fainting, nervousness, sexual desire, insomnia, fluid retention, heaviness in the abdomen, irritability, loss of appetite for food or sex, even sexually forward behavior, and a "tendency to cause trouble for others". It is no longer recognized by medical authorities as a medical disorder. Its diagnosis and treatment were routine for hundreds of years in Western Europe. Even though it was categorized as a disease, hysteria's symptoms were synonymous with normal functioning female sexuality. In the context of hysteria, every symptom and negative thought was linked to sex (also it was problem if you didn't want sex either). Essentially, you were "sick" because you were a woman. Woman disease. How dare females exist 😰

Hysteria was thought to affect only women until the early 1600s. Thomas Willis' concluded Hysteria originated in the brain, not the uterus, implying it could affect men. Despite Willis' findings, hysteria remained a common diagnosis for women, particularly in Victorian times.

Franz Anton Mesmer advanced the theory of hysteria, influencing John Elliotson and James Braid. Elliotson believed mesmerism was particularly effective for hysteria, noting it was not exclusive to women and also affected boys and men. Mesmerism is hypnotic induction held to involve animal magnetism, but we usually use the word "hypnotism". This man appeared in an old journal I was skimming and jump scared me!

Freud's Influence:

Freud shifted focus from physiological to psychological causes. He moved away from Charcot’s hereditary theories, emphasizing psychological rather than genetic or physiological triggers (mind rather than body). Repression is the basis for hysteria. Traumatic memories must be repressed to cause hysterical symptoms. Freud’s therapy aims to bring repressed memories to consciousness to alleviate symptoms. We can see Kakania using this method on Isolde.

Seduction Theory: Freud initially believed that actual childhood sexual abuse caused hysteria but later revised this to include fantasies. This shift was influenced by public resistance and scientific criticism.

Freud's Contributions to Hysteria Theory

Etiology based on nurture, not heredity.

Pubescent experiences as triggers, not causes.

Hysteria redefined as a psychological, not physiological (this one is a very big deal. He was quack, but this shift in perspective is why we've progressed so far in caring for people with PTSD, depression, and so on).

Emphasis on sexual infantile experiences and repression.

Gender distinctions in hysteria based on psychological attitudes towards abuse.

Modern Diagnoses and Connections: Symptoms previously labeled as hysteria are now diagnosed as:

Somatic Symptom Disorder: Characterized by physical symptoms that cannot be explained by medical conditions.

Dissociative Disorder: Involves a disconnection from reality, often linked to trauma.

Conversion Disorder: Involves neurological symptoms without a neurological basis, often linked to psychological factors.

However, there are many other potential diagnosis since hysteria is so broad and vague.

Sources

#reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 lore #reverse 1999 history #idk how to tag this #reverse 1999 analysis #hysteria #wandering womb #isolde

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osmanthus-wine-addiction · 7 months

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One Man's Stone is Another Man's Gem

◈ Pairing: Zhongli x fem!Reader ◈ Summary: You've just gotten out of an exhausting relationship with your boyfriend of ten years. Your boss, who you've only brushed shoulders with a few times in the six years you've worked at the company, suddenly makes you an offer that you can't turn down. ◈ Contains: NSFW, Angst, Boss/Employee Relationship, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Emotional Manipulation

"If someone changes drastically after securing their own interests, then it can only mean that it was never an honest exchange in the first place. In business practices, such a maneuver is called a bait-and-switch. It's rather frowned upon."

"You really can find an anecdote for every situation." You remarked.

Rather than getting deflated over your past, you focused on what Zhongli was saying instead. He had a way of making business sound like some sort of handbook for navigating life. Everything was a kind of transaction or a marketing scheme to him. You were getting used to hearing him explain things like this. Rather than finding his anecdotes boring and deliberate, you were oddly enlightened each time he drew them because of how applicable they were. Life really was just a bunch of transactions and that didn't make it any more or less meaningful. If you had seen things the way Zhongli did maybe you would've seen the abominable losses you were taking and left that doomed relationship years earlier. Too bad you had rose-colored glasses on and they were thick.

"I merely draw a parallel where there's a correlation. Sometimes it helps to see things in a simplified manner. Life is complicated, but oftentimes it's our own emotions, doubts, and fears that make it more complex then it actually is."

"I can see that now." I pouted. "So where were you all those years ago? I could've used some counseling."

He chuckled. "You were in love, my dear. It wouldn't be in my place to speak ill of your relationship. Even if I had, you wouldn't have listened to me then, would you?"

"I listen to you now though." You chirped.

"Only during work hours. You're quite opinionated whenever we're alone." He reminded you.

"I'm not unreasonable..." You defended yourself.

"Indeed you aren't." He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. A sincere pride glimmered in his eyes as he looked into yours. "I'm actually quite relieved that you aren't afraid to butt heads with me as often as you do. Rather than someone who just orders you around, I prefer to be someone you can air your grievances to."

"Don't worry. I don't have any complaints towards you."

He stroked his chin. "While I'm glad to hear that, I find it quite impossible. You simply haven't gotten to know me well enough."

"Well, isn't that why I'm here right now? To get to know you better?" You leaned in, turning the heat dial up a couple notches.

Zhongli's breath shallowed out as you shifted onto his lap. Your thighs parted over his hips, straddling him. His body sunk further into the plush leather with your added weight. You had him pinned to his couch.

"You're certainly getting quite comfortable with me." He noted. His hands rested on your waist as you draped your arms over his shoulders. "When I first took you under my wing, you were unable to look me in the eye."

#zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli smut #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli fanfic #minors dni #minors do not interact #mdni

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aceviscontiswife · 1 year

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Danny, Wesker, and Deathslinger with a survivor boyfriend who gets blushy and flustered at the slightest physical contact? Literally the "hand-holding is so lewd" memes but condensed into a person. Wouldn't mind a bit of 18+ content sprinkled in, too, if you get the inspiration for it.

So I’ve done something very similar to this with the Deathslinger, so for the sake of not reusing old works, I’m not going to be using him for this. I love Deathslinger, so I apologize!!

Amab! Reader. Warnings: Some suggestiveness, talk of handjobs/sex.

• Danny honestly thinks it’s a bit funny. The slightest bit of contact and you’re a blushing, flustered mess—melting under his touch. He wasn’t one for PDA until you came along, now there’s constantly an arm around your waist, hand holding yours, anything Danny can do to have his hands on you.

• While Danny finds your reactions to his touch absolutely adorable, he won’t deny that it turns him on. If this is how you react to a hand around your waist… Danny could only imagine how you’d feel about his hand in your pants. The second he gets you alone, be expecting a complete shift in his personality. Wherever he can get you, whether that be pinned against a wall or on the bed, Danny’s hands are going to be all over you. He’ll whisper the dirtiest things in your ear, watching and relishing as you squirm under him, moaning and panting under his touch.

• Now, with all of this said, expect Danny to make fun of you. Not in a way that’s ill-intended, but simply in his very-own, special Danny way. He loves you, something completely new to him, and poking fun at you is how he shows it. He’ll say things like ‘You act so tough, but we both know the second I touch you you’ll melt.’ Or, specifically when he first noticed your reactions, ‘Blushing and stuttering all because I’m holding your hand?’ Followed by a laugh, as well as a shine in Danny’s eyes that hardly prepares you for what he does the second you’re alone.

You were alone at the survivors’ campfire, resting after a long ‘day’ of trials. The silence was comforting, well-needed after all you’d experienced today. You had almost dozed off, when suddenly a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. You immediately recognize the black leather gloves and long sleeves as Danny’s, your cheeks flushing red as his hands gently squeeze your sides. “Hello, handsome.” Danny says, pulling his mask to the side just enough to expose his lips before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You stutter out a hello, which only makes Danny chuckle and wrap his arms around you tighter, pulling you back against his chest.

“I love how you react to my touch. All of this… just for me.” While others would consider his comment a tad possessive, but his words were only adding fuel to the fire growing inside of you. His hands trail down your side, now hovering over your clothed member, which twitched and strained against your pants as Danny spoke up. “You know exactly what you do to me don’t you, y/n?”

• Oh, you best believe Wesker is using this to his advantage. While he might not express just how much he likes your flustered reaction to even the slightest touch, you can tell it drives him wild. Like Danny, once he realizes, he will have his hands on you whenever he can.

• Now, unlike you, Wesker has little to no physical reaction to touch. It’s as if nothing even happened, really. Inside his head, however, Wesker is ready to take you right then, right there. His touch is how he shows he owns you, so if you were to take his hand in yours? Be prepared for Wesker to fuck you senseless, no matter where you are.

• Wesker won’t necessarily make fun of you, he doesn’t have the time for that, but he will comment on your flustered state. If you’re into it, Wesker will degrade you, especially during sex. If not, he will shower you in praises. Seriously, Wesker just likes seeing you blush and squirm under his touch! It fills him with an indescribable sense of power and dominance; which is something Wesker… probably has enough of already, but hey, it just means he’ll fuck you all the better. 😉

It was another trial, but at least this time you were with Wesker. Roaming through the halls of RPD, you heard your heartbeat pick up and knew he was around. You were waiting in his office, your eyes lighting up when you finally spot him. Stained with the blood of your teammates, Wesker makes his way to you and pulls you into a very unexpected hug. His hold was possessive, tight… enough to have your face heating up and your body practically under him. He leans down until his lips were even with your ear, breath tickling your skin as he whispers.

“I missed you, my pet. I missed watching you blush and stutter under my touch... didn't you?" Wesker hums, the shaky sigh that escapes your lips telling him all he nees to know. His hands slide down to your ass, pressing your hips against his. You gasp, blood rushing to your member as Wesker presses a kiss to your neck. "I knew you did."

---

So sorry for the disappearance! I know I make a lot of excuses, but I promise I mean them all. I work at a barn that puts on camps for children throughout the months of June-July, so I'm very busy during those times. I have one final camp next week, so hopefully after that my works will pick back up again.

#dead by daylight #danny johnson #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #dbd smut #ghostface #ghostface x y/n #danny johnson dbd #danny johnson smut #albert wesker #albert wesker dbd #albert wesker smut #wesker x y/n #wesker x reader #wesker smut #wesker dbd

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myconidwitch · 8 months

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EVERYONE, PLEASE HELP ME CONSTRUCT THE NOELLE RAIL LINE OVER HERE:

i need it so that i have safer ways of transporting my soup, and can also transport myself outside of my region (which, for those of you who don't know, has a spell on it which forbids anybody outside of it to know important things about it like location and stuff, which is a problem because normally the only way to get in is teleportation, but i can't do that if i don't know where the destination of the teleportation is located)

myconid witch wizardblr lore:

noelle merianda was the name of a human girl in a town called fand'quer. she had a father whom she loved deeply. one day, her father fell extremely ill. upon finding out about this, noelle immediately tried to find a way to cure him of his illness. she tried medication after medication, but nothing worked. she became so desperate, that she started learning witchcraft, specifically magic soup, in order to heal him. she eventually found a recipe that would work, and attempted to make it. before noelle could finish this stew, her mother found out about it, and was not very pleased. noelle's town has a bit of a history with witches, and upon finding out her daughter was practicing witchcraft, her mother threw noelle out of the house, against the father's wishes. the only thing she was allowed to bring with her was the large pot she used to attempt to make the soup. noelle had to run into the bog near her village, unless she wanted to be executed for witchcraft. she found the tower of a long dead wizard, where she sought refuge. noelle began studying wizardry in that tower, so that she could protect herself against whoever was inside that bog. after spending about 10 years in that tower, eldritch fungi began enveloping her body, slowly replacing it with eldritch flesh. noelle made a decision to never practice witchcraft ever again, due to it being the reason she lost everything. after about 2 more years, she became a full fledged myconid due to all the eldritch fungi, which gave her the ability to talk with sentient mushrooms. noelle started making friends with a lot of sentient mushrooms by keeping them company and making food for them, while the sentient mushrooms in turn searched for ingredients for food. during one of their searches, noelle's favorite mushroom became sick, similar to her father, and she knew what needed to be done. she wiped the layers upon layers of dust off the old pot, and started making magic soup. she used every bit of knowledge she had about magic soup to be able to heal that mushroom. this time however, nothing got in the way, and she was able to heal them. after this, she began learning as much as she could about magic soup, having regained her love for it.

gonna keep adding other stuff onto this post as time goes on

at 150 followers i'll draw my mutuals, well at least the ones i've interacted with

↑ ok so to be more specific, since im absolutely NEVER going to get the drawing finished if i draw an actual character (i'd get demotivated before even starting lol) im gonna just have to draw something that symbolises the mutuals.

oh also the drawings will all be on one paper and be stacked on top of this absolute MONSTER of a pinned post

#wizardblr #lore

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storgicdealer · 4 months

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ehehehehehe okay. first things first i figured out a good name for stohio: carteblan (i cannot believe it took me this long ive been calling it stohio for like ? oh my god just over a year now)

anyways yeah.

i havent figured out the exact timeline, but a couple years before victim "came back to life"/escaped the ava1 youtube video (that's a whole other can of worms), stickfigures were just finding out about the existence of other living sticks. in particular, freedom was a rather popular figure as one of the first sticks to break out of stick slavery (many living stickfigures were put to tasks, similar to chosen and second, where it was either do the task or die). freedom specifically was the first to discover the outernet, and quickly provided a link to others online.

he then created the "stick freedom ad" (which earned him his name; prior to this, he was simply known as unti (short for untitled) (sticks having Names outside of their roles was not a common thing yet)). he made this ad and scammed several websites into displaying it without actually paying for it by using fraudulent money (there are a couple very old blog posts and forum posts about the Stick Freedom Ad and what its supposed to mean, since clicking on it leads to an error 404).

as more sticks were freed and entered the outernet, they began to build houses. some sticks that had experience with drawing helped draw the sketches for these houses, which was then built upon using the surrounding resources. this eventually developed into carteblan, the city that mango and purple live in today.

however as time passed the culture in carteblan became a little elitist--- victim-blamey (haha), acting like all sticks should be strong, and turning down their noses on sticks who look a little too different from the norm (like paleo, ballista and hazard) (the norm being hollowheads, fullheads and whiteheads).

like i mentioned in my reblog, the sticks in carteblan began to crave more, lives similar to human lives, and amongst that was a demand for stick children. in my headcanon, sticks cannot reproduce and any sex they have is entirely recreational, so they had to devise another method for having kids. adoption, like mango did with gold in my hc, is the most common way of doing this.

sticks like second, that can draw things to life, are extremely rare (like 1 out of a thousand) in the outernet, but theres a couple thousand people in carteblan as of 2024 so there are a few sticks that can actually draw sticks to life. thus, they do 'kid' commissions where they literally draw a kid to life in exchange for money. there are also some website sticks in touch with their animators who ask their animators do do kid commissions as well for people in the outernet.

wow okay this is long. there are other stick cities too but the two major cities are carteblan and adagia most other sticks live in solitude or on websites ok im done woo

grabs you by the shoulders. falls onto the floor. has a fucking awakening

DUDE.

this is one of the most amazing things ive seen recently that inspired me to make a ramble/srs.

im going to create another part of my ramble series and pin it because of it im fr

foundation of the outernet, development of outernet sticks and creation of living beings

(a ramble made with the help of an immaculate person with amazing ideas)

OH MY GOD?????? FIRSTLY. i need to mention that i ADORE that we both have an idea that outernet was discovered by created internet/pc sticks. that its appearance began to be a place for a whole race to live in. and that its not something that exists completely naturally and independently from it. this is the theory of their origins i believe most right now

freedom being the founder IS SICK. ITS SO FUCKING SICK im rolling on the floor

in my "rules of code" ramble also i supposed sticks being in touch with their creators as well and them also BEING DRAWN!!! by sticks and creators. ill put a screenshot of everything hold on

outernets creation

my thoughts about outernets existence that most of which i think i explained

lives of stickmen and reproduction

my thoughts were about reproduction as well!!!!! its mostly accepted as canon in the fandom that sticks reproduce naturally but i cannot say that it actually is canon. everything that was going on with purple was symbolic and didnt showcase like. natural birth

alan said that for gold to exist king would have to marry a very neon yellow stick.

AND THIS made me confirm my headcanon that stick children are created by parent(s) own code. that they cannot influence it or prefer a color, that their code INHERENTLY has the variety of the color palette and hexcodes embedded into it.

ABOUT the code and colors. (i believe that the colors of sticks mixing up with each others is COMPLETELY code.)

all sticks inherently have a code and a name that gives them associated power. that can be messed with as well by a user (tdl command). its something that ive also talked in my rules of code ramble and mentioned the concept of "levels" and name power hierarchy

the chosen one, created and possessing a grandeu amount of power

the dark lord, also posessing a lot of power (that i dont believe couldve came from the command that was written into them. the command of destroying chosen is a goal that i believe is able to not be achieved)

the second coming, the name of someone that ties them with their predecessor (does make me wonder though how exactly their code made a connection with our chosen. maybe its possible that the name "the second coming" by itself, as a level, implies being a coming of someone powerful)

victim, being quite weak by themselves and not posessing any power by their own and having to rely on pc programs they're aware of.

i believe that being able to code a stick into a specific power and duty is something that could only be achieved and controlled through the feature of the program the stick was created in. in case of outernet, since they dont have access to computer programs and therefore, programs of creation such as adobe they cannot influence or change one's code

when it comes to creation of a stick i truly believe that you are able to give them color by yourself, unless the child is made by connecting it to the codes of its supposed parent(s). they gain hue by either actually taking/mixing up the colors of the parents or by taking one color in case of a sole parent.

(societal thought: its possible that outernet sticks, due to not wanting to have a literal copy and just an extension of themselves and wanting to create an "actual new life" by mixing colours prefer to have children with a partner, and not by themselves only)

have thought that color/code of the stick could be influenced by the parent(s) preferences, like a parent would like to have a kid similar to them and name them the same way (thus resulting/having their hexcode being picked out individually) BUT. i remembered alans words about kings spouse.

that for gold to exist king would need to marry a really neon yellow stick.

would it imply that sticks that subtract parent(s) code cannot influence the color of the stick created? as much as it impossible to influence the features of a born child in our real life, only taking it from parents and letting the nature play a randomizer. and that the only thing that they are able to influence is the shape of their creation?

society of outernet

THE CONCEPT OF STICKS SOCIETY BEING ELITIST ABOUT THIS STUFF. im eating it im not sure what fully do with it yet but im eating it

ive also talked about society there

when talking about creators of mercs king purple and co i was mostly thinking about real users. BUT YOUR CONCEPT OF STICKS BEING DRAWN BY OTHER STICKS AND ME THINKING ABOUT IT AS WELL . THIS IS SO FUCKING AMAZING. this is canon for me IDC!!!!!!

it does, however, make me wonder of their living process. we know that alan's hollowheads are created for a reason, are born aware of themselves, how to walk/run/interact/fight and havent been seen aging or changing. and due to chosen, victim and second surviving a whole bunch of damage that should've killed them, second literally REFUSING to delete, the fate of dark lord being unknown and alan not giving a straight answer about it and, very important: cg as created sticks being unable to actually die and needing only refresh of a page to continue living, having all their memories intact... makes me wonder that stickmen created directly by a human hand are unable to die.

(does make me wonder about another completely different thing. the societal perception. is it acceptable to be in touch with your stick creators? how would it even feel. do they perceive them as a distant relative?? do sticks that are able to create life consider their creations close to them as well??? im imagining something along the lines about detroit stuff with connor&kamski but way less intense)

connection of realms and creation of life

ive rambled A TON about connection of internet and outernet and how sticks especially of outernet could connect and travel between realms. hear ye hear ye.

right now i genuinely believe that stick society advanced so far in the outernet and got to live there that their connection with the internet mightve severed:

sticks of outernet don't physically interact neither with internet/pc programs OR travel there unless they obtained something that could allow them to travel to a pc/internet (the minecraft block and nether portals that seem doing quite fine in the outernet dimension) or have powers that can allow them to break through (chosen and the computer/ip sky which, interestingly, has only been seen broken through on the alanspc ip adress//dark portals to the internet).

given this, there's not a lot of accesible methods of traveling to the internet and most of them are available only to pc sticks.

(except. for king and purple. except for king getting a block from minecraft that was not supposed to be in the outernet from that merchant in his backstory. but it is a whole another can of worms as well)

as far as we've seen sticks that werent exposed to pc and internet tech dont really use or possess any tech that could access it??????? the times where we've seen tech such as computers/phones/tvs/pc and programs interface were always in possession of sticks that came from a pc or were there at least once (hollowheads, the cg, purple) or were entrusted with it from someone that was on a pc (mercenaries). talking about the video used on the tv in "the king" episode... it has never been shown that this video was being shown directly from the youtubes platform either. and that lead me to a thought that outernet sticks might not even interacted with internet's properties except for the tools used to create a life that came along with the foundation of the internet and most likely were developed from tools brought by the first sticks. but the way outernet progressed they might not even know that this stuff is literally from another realm

heck, a daring thought.

in case of outernet being almost completely cut off from its original internet history recent sticks of outernet might not even know of the existence of pcs and internet.

this does however clash with sticks being still created by people and sticks that are able to create life being in touch with them. but its still supposable that only rare sticks with an ability to create life somewhat have a.. gene? passed through to them from some of their ancestors that could've been able to create life. and users dont exactly come into this (also given its unlikely that its a regular experience for a user to be emulated in the outernet world like it was with alans cursor in showdown)

continuing to talk about elitism. again this is such a sick concept

im thinking right now that elitism towards stickmen that arent completely strong/prefer not to engage in fighting due to the progress of their civilization//different kinds of stickmen mightve also came from the original stickmen (im going start coloring this concept now. also this whole is some adam and eve stuff) that were created to fight. we know from our real world that the first appearance of sticks in the internet didnt come from a desire to animate them in a fighting ring but the whole scene and culture of fighting sticks came around pretty quickly. the whole reason avam exists as a series

its possible that while predecessors of original stickmen werent created with fighting in mind the stickmen that discovered the outernet might as well been the first sticks created for fight. and since it isnt a thing that gone away and is most likely embedded into the code of sticks themselves in the avam universe the whole "fighting code gene" mightve been carried over to recent sticks as well. and this elitism exists that even though sticks dont have to fight anymore (to literally survive in most cases) due to the progress of their kind some conservative mfs might believe that "this is what our ancestors intendeeeddd you need to bow to your roots and your existing gene"

the elitism towards kinds of sticks is. god its such a big and very explainable and amazing concept

due to sticks just beginning existing in the internet a long while ago and mostly drawn pretty similarly (since most creators were just exploring how to draw them digitally) the race of stickmen that passed down from original stickmen could've been all just fullheads and whiteheads and perhaps hollowheads?.. im really thinking hard about it because. we havent seen hollowheads in the outernet and the fact that orange didnt even know of their existence anywhere else and even WE didnt up until they saw victim (and were probably quite damn shocked) and the fact it was possibly quite a grand moment to them confuses me.

im not sure for what reason, but the number of sticks of the race of hollowheads might have been reduced in present outernet, only having the ones that posses incredible power survive. (yet. also victim. that does not posses such power. but its a whole another idea on that they could've acquired it through different means and not from power coming from their own self)

or, it just is an avam universe rule that users didnt really think of drawing hollowheads when creating first sticks because it was hard for them to keep track of the background besides their damn hollow head and it was easier to have a stick that covered it fully on another layer LOL

either way, coming back to elitism (this sounds funny out of context), due to original sticks being simply drawn as fullheads whiteheads and possibly hollowheads it was the main race that stickmen were used to creating when drawing a new life. but with the progress of their civilization they started to experiment, eventually inventing new kinds of sticks (the kinds of hazard, ballista and paleo). due to some conservative sticks clinging to their roots they didnt like the difference from the norm.

elitism thought.

even with a possible inability to code a stick into doing something by outernet sticks would people still try to draw a stick with a specific build associated with certain jobs and tasks, trying to force them into a mold of who they are "supposed" to be? like, drawing a stick that resembles a sign (like hazard) and having them work for example as an aircraft marshaller or some other job that requires caution and directive? the grey sticks working in rocketcorp, possibly made as clerks and errand dudes?

..could purple be drawn being stronger and having a greater build than a usual stick would have, therefore disappointing navy when they dont match their expectations of a stick they wanted?

would it be a problem that progressive sticks would try to solve? allowing different kinds of sticks to exist, but not forcing them into a certain shape?

another thing. YOUVE OPENED A GATEWAY TO A SEA OF WORMS BY TELLING ME ABOUT POSSIBLE ESCAPE OF VICTIM FROM A YOUTUBE VIDEO.

my previous ramble (rocketcorp, dimensions and virtual reality) made a theory that victim, in one way or another essentially brought pc programs and tech into outernet, thus obtaining power that is, quite literally, linked with their whole creation. (very symbolic considering their whole power is the one that made their life end so fast) and, due to outernet being cut off from programs and powers of internet and pcs, became a being that literally stood higher than the reality and fabric of the outernet realm itself, possesing power that could possibly meddle with it (mercs cannons literally changing structure and whole being of objects like the corndog stand or literally messing with a sticks state and body with chosen). and i have thought that victim is the one that could use internet itself as one of their grand tools.

and. animation vs youtube. we fucking know. that a stick is able to upload itself and break the interface of internet.

no one said that the original ava video on youtube is the whole thing that victim used to escape.

also. remember me mentioning that the original video of animation vs minecraft wasnt shown to be accessed through youtube. this video looked like it was downloaded having a whole different bar at the bottom and everything. couldve it been downloaded by vic or rocketcorp?

(victim interneted the fucking internet and started showing avam series like their own show. by the way its ALSO a potential scenario i talked about before. that due to potential severing of outernet citizens with the internet the recorded adventures of the cg on pc, internet and minecraft (ESPECIALLY considering that minecraft existed as a fun simulation game on a festival) that was broadcasted could've been interpreted by outernet sticks as fiction. but its an independent funny concept to be thought about and i still didnt fully figure it out)

op.

you cracked my mind open like a walnut and i cannot stop thinking about all of your ideas

oh my god this did so much to me. ive been writing for the past two hours due to how much ideas it gave me. im going to pin this ramble because its very important to me and puts a lot of theories and headcanons in stone. you are my saviour cindersnows and you are probably going to be fucking FLABBERGASTED by the length of this post

sincerely yours storgic "the aspiring matpat of the avam fandom" dealer

#animator vs animation #alan becker #animation vs minecraft #ava theory #ava theories #ava headcanon #ava headcanons #PHEEEEEWWW LORD #animation vs animator #avs #storgesinsaneramblings

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witchersmistress · 1 year

Text

Time Out Daddy

this was inspired by @nuggsmum, i took details from a current play date with Daddy that i had over the weekend with his permission of course. now all the fun stuff is a touch of what we did, there are things that occured that sahouldnt be repeat for others.

Trigger warnings: Hedonisim, oral sex, both male and female receiving and giving. P in V, bondage and rough sex, hand necklaces

Word count: 3.3K

my usual warnings, you do not have permission to copy my work in any shape way or form, if you do ill find you and haunt you for the rest of your days

I can do this, I said looking in the mirror as I adjusted my pigtails one more time. It's just August he isnt going to judge you, you've talked about this 100 times. Adjusting my plaid mini skirt and my thigh highs one last time, I made my way out of the bathroom and into the living room where I left him.

He was sitting on his black leather couch reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, now that made me giggle, walking to stand in the living room, I held my hands behind my back and looked at the ground in my stocking covered feet. “Well, little one, what do we have here?” August said as he snapped the book closed. Looking up at him through my lashes I just watched his expression as he leaned back on the couch, letting one arm rest on the back of the couch and the other one on the armrest holding a glass of whiskey. He finished in one gulp before setting the glass on the matte black side table next to him. He crooked a finger at me and I proceeded to move.

“Tsk Tsk Tsk, no baby girl, on your hands and knees, crawl” trying to swallow the lump in my throat, i dropped to my hands and knees, putting extra sway into my hips as i made my way between his wide spread thighs. My heart was hammering so loud in my chest, I was positive he could hear it. Crawling between his legs. He tapped his right hand on his thigh, “Up” he commanded moving to rest on my knees, I folded my hands over his left knee and placed my chin on top of them and looked into those stunning blue eyes. Reaching out he caressed my cheek with his thumb “What am i going to do with you little one?” I smiled meekly at this man. He honestly could have passed for a Greek God with his stunning blue eyes, black hair and dark mustache, his salt and pepper scruff adding to his attractiveness. I carefully removed one hand and reached up to scratch his scruff on the underside of his chiseled jaw. He let out a low chuckle and grabbed that hand placing it against his muscular chest pinning it there with his own hand.

We just stared at one another for a few moments before he said “ What bonita?” I just smiled at the man, knowing full well that he was going to break my heart. I could feel my cheeks turning pink, I just rubbed my face into his hand that was still on my face. He leaned forward, moving his hand from my cheek to my neck and grabbed, dragging my lips to his. He devoured them in a porno style kiss, adjusting his grip on my neck,drooping my other hand and gripping me round my waist, he stood while still holding my neck. As he reached his full height, I was on my tiptoes trying not to lose my balance. He broke our kiss, smiling wickedly at me. The hand left my neck, traveling down, stopping at the top of my short pleated skirt, smirking before he crouched slightly, burying his head in my breasts as his hands traveled from their resting place, past my ass and down to my thighs, grabbing them he picked me up and i wrapped my legs around him “August” i yelled wrapping my arms tight around his neck as he let out a low rumble of a laugh, as he picked up his head “Relax bonita, i've got you, i wont drop you” carrying me from the living room to his bedroom, he pinned me to the door as he finished ripping my blouse off, exposing my black lace bra. Undoing the back, pulling the straps off he tossed it in some direction, he grabbed both your breasts squeezing them before taking your right nipple in his mouth while rolling the left one in between his fingers “August” you begged. He released your nipple with a pop; it immediately hardened from the cool air “Yes bonita?” he smiled, his eyes dark with lust and desire. Tugging on my bottom lip with my teeth, he pushed off the door and turned to throw me on his bed. I landed with a soft thud and he was in between my legs and pinned me to the bed with his waist. It was a clash of lips, tongue and moans. Not sure where he ended and I began. He has been so exceedingly patient with me that I said fuck it and i was going to do something that ive long been afraid of. Pushing at his shoulder till he rolled over, I pounced on him “Eyes on me Daddy, you've been a bad boy and you need a time out” . The look that danced across his face was just too funny, it was a mixture of amusement, pride and horror and desire. “What did you just say to me?” Swallowing what i had left of my false bravado “I said eyes on me Daddy, you've been bad and you need a timeout” he quirked a brow at me, a ghost of a smile tugging on his plump lips “Oh little one your ass will be sore tomorrow by the time i'm done with you…” I placed a finger to his lips.

His eyes narrowed in disapproval. Yep my ass is going to hurt later.. Nipping at his muscular chest as I made my way down his body to his belt, with a shaky breath I undid his belt and slid it off tossing it to the floor. Next I undo his pants with shaking fingers and drag down the zipper. Seconds later, he’s filling my hands. Long and broad and perfect. Eyeballing his erection, I started to have some doubts. His thumb brushes along my cheek as I look up at him. I expect to find him disappointed, but he isn't, his brows are knitted together in concern, an unspoken question bouncing around his retinas. Cocking my head, I looked at him, he nodded his approval.

“Slow,” he murmurs.

wiping a bead of pre cum off the silky head of his cock, circling the head slowly as he moaned. Pulling off the rest of his boxers and discarding them on the floor, I move to push his legs apart, sitting between his muscular thighs, twitching in anticipation, his eyes following your every move. Gliding your hand down your stomach to the front of your thong, delving 2 fingers into your soaked core, collecting some of the moisture, and pulling your fingers out watching your glistening juices sliding down your fingers onto your hand “Is that for me bonita?” giving a shy nod with your hand covered in juices, that is the hand you used to start stroking him with, slowly at first just to give him a little taste.

Picking up the pace of your assault as he moaned beneath you. Lowering your head you lick the underside of his velvet memeber, “Fuck, baby girl” with a gleam in your eye you look up at him as you side you tongue around the top of his head, listening to August moan his pleasure. You grip the bottom of his shaft before pulling him into your mouth, you can taste his precum and your juices mixing together, eliciting a moan from you. Looking up at August through your lashes, making eye contact. ‘Fuck” he grabbed a handful of your hair pulling it out of your face and watching while you suck on his thick shaft “You look so good doing that, ive been picturing you red lips wrapped around my cock all evening” a shudder ran through your body as you reached with you opposite hand to cup his balls and give them a gentle squeeze. He hissed with pleasure as you continued working him over. “If you keep this up i'm going to come in that pretty mouth of yours''

No shit sherlock that's the idea you though smuggly to yourself, closing your eyes you began sucking harder, moaning louder as the grip on your hair tightened and he started to fuck your face, choking you slightly.

“Wicked girl.” He shifts his grip, keeping one hand in your hair and tilting your head back a little. “You want me to fuck your mouth.” “Mmm.” He uses his free hand to touch your left wrist. “it's too much, you let me know.” you make another sound of assent. August might like playing with the darker edge of desire the same way you crave, but he always manages to check in with you. To make sure I'm right there with him. you make you feel far safer than you have any right to. He holds your head immobile as he begins to move.

Slowly at first, testing your limits. i've never had a sensitive gag reflex, but it’s not a trait you were particularly grateful for until the moment his cock bumps the back of your throat. it's not a comfortable feeling, but you breathe through your nose and relax into it as best you can. you wanted this. “That’s it, little one.” His soft praise lights you up from within. Instead, you luxuriate in it as he begins to move in earnest, thrusting between your lips, forcing you to relax into it or choke. eyes watering and he wipes your tears away with a gentle thumb, so at odds with the rough hold on your hair. “Next time we do this, you’re going to swallow me down. Every single fucking drop.” pulling me by my hair off of his thick cock, I whimper at the loss but it’s quickly muffled when he grabs me by the throat and brings me down for a wicked kiss. Climbing up his body, I straddle his thighs as I try to wiggle my way out of the skirt, leaving just my thigh highs, garter belt and black lace thong.

He laughed when I got stuck. Flipping me over, he pulled it off and tossed it. “My my is this all for me?” my black garter belt holding up my tan and red seamed thigh highs. The black lace thong that is soaked at this point.

sliding down the bed in one smooth motion. “You don’t have to—” My voice catches, breaking off as a shock of pure, erotic bliss rocks through me when his mouth touches me. His warm, wet tongue slowly strokes my clit, and all reason leaves me. All that’s left is the painfully exquisite sensation of his skilled, hungry mouth against my bare flesh. My fingers tangled in his hair, and with whatever bit of brainpower that remains to me, you try to pull him away because it’s too intimate, too much, and… “Just relax,” he murmurs, kissing me gently. “Let me make you as crazy as you make me.” Without waiting for an answer, he dips lower again, letting out a sound that’s half sigh, half moan as his tongue slips between my lips, toward my entrance. “Don’t,” you breathe, but you barely hear the sound because you are melting, weakening, as his lips and tongue and breath combine forces, overwhelming me. Dropping my head back on the pillows, gripping his hair as if it can anchor me to this world even as his mouth moves against me like magic. He pulls away, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look at him. “If you try to stop me one more time, I will bind your hands to the headboard, do you understand me?” I nodded my head as he moved back down my body, to my dripping wet cunt. He explores me slowly at first, tasting and sucking, his teeth nibbling gently at me, his tongue stroking me until you can’t breathe, and my hips start jerking involuntarily against his mouth. He grips my thighs harder, his fingers cutting into my flesh, holding me still while his tongue moves faster. you let out a soft cry when his rough tongue breaches my opening, rasping against the raw, broken skin. But his mouth is wet, and I’m wet, and soon the burning sensation is too entwined with the swirling pleasure to tell where one ends and the other begins. “August,” you gasp. “Stop, it’s too much, you can’t—” He lets out a rough groan and squeezes my thighs harder, opening them wider, his whole body writhing in the bed sheets as he pushes deeper, thrusting his tongue into me until you dizzy with it. you buck under him, grabbing at the pillows, at anything, because you're going to explode if he doesn’t stop. But he doesn’t stop. He goes on and on, moaning into me, eating me, until you can’t hold back the soft, breathy cries that have been building inside me with pleasure. He fucks me relentlessly with his mouth, his tongue, until he pushes me over the edge.It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt, not even when I’ve given myself a good one. This one is different, unwilling almost, as he drags it from my helpless body. A rush of wet heat flows from me in a way you’ve never felt, and you cry out, humiliation burning through me even as the orgasm clenches me in its grip. He moans deep in his throat, pushing his tongue deeper even as you cry out wordlessly, not sure if you’m telling him to stop or continue, not sure of anything except the waves of bone deep pleasure and release bearing me away on a current that you know will take you over the edge of the world into the abyss of August’s darkness.

When it ebbs, his mouth is still on me but moving slowly, his tongue lazily answering each pulse of my flesh with one of its own. He lifts his face at last, his lips shiny, his eyes wild and unfocused. “God, you taste so fucking good, little one,” he groans, his breath into coming as quick as mine.“I want to eat you till there is nothing left.” “No,” you cry, shoving at his forehead. He unclamps his hands from my aching thighs, which will surely be bruised to hell tomorrow. Instead of climbing on top of me as I expected, he pushed himself up from between my thighs and made his way over to a dresser and opened a drawer. “ I told you what would happen if you tried to stop me one more time, didn’t I?” My mouth quickly dried out. I nodded, he turned around and had a length of red silk rope in his hands “What did you do little one?” fumbling on my words “ you.. You ..sa sa said that you’ll tie my hands to the headboard.” my thighs were shaking, i don't know if it was from the arousal that was flooding my system or the fear of the man who has that much power. “But you didn't answer my question, pet” Walking back towards the bed, he straddled my thighs grabbing both my wrist as he bound them together. I tried to wiggle out of his grasp but that wasn't happening. “Now what did you do?” dragging my eyes up his body, to meet his gaze. “I told you no and try to shove you off of me” he finished securing my wrist before he laced the rope through a metal ring and secured it. I pulled and wiggled on it but I wasn't going anywhere.

He let out a low chuckle, “No where was I?” trailing his fingers down my cheek, across my jaw to my chin, down my neck and then he grabbed “Oh that's right, i was going to eat what's mine” lowering himself down my body, nipping at my exposed, stomach, and thighs he braced himself on my inner thighs and spreads them wide, staring up at me with that hazy, transfixed expression. There’s no way he can miss what a mess you made. When he leans down, you tense, trying to twist away. “Stop or I'll bind your feet and ankles next,” he snaps, forcing my legs wide. “Let me lick the cream out of your cunt.” His tongue is gentle this time, slowly winding a spiral of pleasure deeper and deeper into my core as he laps up the mess of cum from my wrecked pussy until you swear even my heart is quivering for him. When you think you can’t take it another second, he slides a long finger into me. He murmurs. “I want to feel you gush again.” Then his mouth descends, stroking me toward an edge I know that I can't come back from. This time, I didn't even try. I let him carry me over.

By the third or fifth one, I couldn't quite keep track, I was on the verge of passing out. “August” I panted as he continued pounding into me. Gripping the satin sheets in a white-knuckled hold, a second orgasm rockets through my body like fireworks exploding in a dark sky. When I muffle my grunted screams into a pillow, August’s raspy groans become more prominent. I never thought I was a screamer, but August has proved me wrong. My throat is as raw as my heart. I knew August would be fantastic in bed, but I’m still astounded by his impressive stamina.

, “Just one more little one” I shook my head. My body is slack, unresponsive, and covered head to toe in slick sweat. The only reason I’m still upright is because of the silk rope still holding me in place.

An unexpected squeal rips from my dry mouth when August flips me onto my stomach.

Any protest on further contact is disregarded when I catch his intense gaze scanning my face as he slides back inside me. His eyes look as content as my body does. A husky moan rolls up my throat when his mouth seals over mine. This time, his kiss is passionate and slow, expanding my heart with every caress, nibble, and lick he does. Even the relentless rhythm of his pounding eases. Placing his open palm on my back, August tilts my hips higher, giving him unrestricted access to my throbbing pussy. I’m surprised a short time later when a familiar tightening in my lower stomach gains intensity again so quickly. “Eyes,” August demands. My orgasm rushes to the surface, excited he can already intuit my body so well he knows I’m moments away from climaxing.. He pumps into me on repeat, stealing the air from my lungs with every perfect stroke. “Oh God…” I pant, overcome by the tingling in my core.

The desire to snap my eyes shut is overwhelming when another orgasm roars through my spent body, but I keep them open, fighting through the sensation eating me whole. When my nails dig into August’s sheets, spurts of cum brutally erupt from his throbbing knob. “Fuck, little one,” he groans before leaning over and entrapping my bottom lip between his teeth. The sting of his bite is painful, but his tongue soon soothes the pain. Once every drop of cum has been released, he frees my lip from his menacing teeth before rolling off me. His eyes remain locked on mine as he removes the condom from his still throbbing cock.

Disposing the condom into a trash can, he rejoins me in bed. Gently rolling me over from my stomach to my back, he reaches up and unties the satin rope from the bed frame. I let out a dramatic sigh as my arms dropped. “You hedonistic bastard" i said, laughing , he untied my wrist and rubbed it for me, handing me a drink of water, I chugged it down greedily. Taking the glass from me, he pulled my back into his chest and lifted the covers over us, even exhausted beyond comprehension, my lips tug high when he spoons his body close to mine. With multiple earth-shattering orgasms rendering me immobile, I soon fall into a blissful post-orgasmic sleep.

#august walker imagines #august walker #august walker fanfic #henrycavill smut #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill thirst #henry cavill characters #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x you

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storiesandthingsofthatnature · 1 year

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You Can Cry If You Want To

Summary: You made a promise to yourself long ago that you would never cry again. However, unhealthy coping mechanisms lead to even worse ones. However, Leon is here for you

Word Count: 1.6K

Pairing: RE4! Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, cursing, a single slap that was heard around the world, ummmm, that's it? Do let me know tho!

Disclaimer: Nothing to report :3

A/N: So I'm back again but with something fluffier this time uwu Have a comfort fic :3 I'm probably going to add a rules thingy to my blog and pin it to the top soon so be sure to look out for that if you wanna ask me to write anything for you! :D

Anyways, enjoy!

Being in this line of work you have to come to terms with the fact that you’re going to carry some heavy weight. From the deaths of your teammates to a failed mission that ultimately led to casualties. Not every task ended with a happy ending; human miscalculation and error will always be a consequence. But that wasn’t what bothered you today. No, this was a battle that you had been fighting ever since you could remember; mental illness.

You had bi polar disorder - an illness that has caused a lot of strife in your life. You had hoped that enlisting into the secret service would be more than enough to distract you from your personal qualms but it just seemed to make it worse. However, jumping out now would just fuck you over financially and you weren’t sure just how long it would take to dig yourself out of that hole. So, you grinned and bore it. In front of your superiors, in front of your colleagues, and especially, in front of Leon.

Leon Kennedy was a man of high regard and well respected amongst his peers. You were no exception. It was always an honor to work with Leon and a mission became more secure when he was around. But with constant contact comes welling feelings and you couldn’t stop yours from appearing. It was a slow burn, a small cinder that slowly grew into a healthy flame that now resided deep within your chest only for Leon. You could never tell him, however. You were sure that he had someone outside of work and that you were no way in league with him. So, you just let your feelings fester, an unhealthy way of trying to rid yourself of this puppy crush.

And with unhealthy coping mechanisms comes unhealthy actions - you hurting yourself. You weren’t doing it because of Leon, but the added stress of possible unrequited love was enough to overturn the teetering table that was your fluctuating moods. It always started the same, your manic episodes; you become quiet yet violent to where you go on a small rampage. After you nearly demolish the area around you, you just sit down and sob.

After a certain amount of time, you made yourself a promise that you would never have such an episode again. And, right before you entered the service, you started your streak. Through all of the shit and harsh training, you never broke your self promise. How embarrassing would it be to shut down like that in front of your team anyway? Especially Leon.

You could never let them know about this side of you. But because of this you were left with a single, toxic mechanism which was cutting into your arms. You felt lucky that you could wear long sleeves with your uniform but you also wore bandages so as no dirt or sweat could get into the wounds. You craved the pain but you still wanted your arm.

Lately, though, you were becoming quite sick. Due to your stress your stomach was beginning to twist in an agonizing way and migraines were becoming normal. One day, you couldn’t go in at all. You called in and practically begged for a day off. Of course you were to be given harsher exercises to make up for it but you were let off for the day. You could sob from the relief. You settle deeper into your bed and try to sleep off the pain that your body encapsulated.

However, a little under an hour later you heard a frantic knock at your door. You give an annoyed groan and throw off your covers with such force that they fell to the other side. You stomped to the front door of your apartment and you swung the door open with no regard to your bare arms. You were just so tired and sick that you just wanted to be left alone. You wanted to get this encounter over with and go back to bed. But your heart sank to your knees, your sharp tongue catching in your throat. Leon Kennedy was standing in front of your door and your brain was trying to process why the fuck he was here.

“Leon?..W-what are you…?” You begin to say but stop completely at Leon’s expression. He looked intense, very contrasting to the worried look that was etched on his face when you opened the door. “Y/N…” He said it in a way that sounded surprised yet heartbroken. You raise an eyebrow at him but when you follow his gaze you see what he noticed; your scars. You go to hide them but Leon’s calloused fingers enclosed around your wrist. “Why?” He wasn’t going to ask you the question of what this was. He knew but he just wanted to know why.

You hide your eyes behind your hair, unable to look at him. “It doesn’t matter-” “Yes it fucking does!” He didn’t mean to sound so enraged but you were obviously lost in some sort of self depriving darkness and he wanted to know how or why so that he could fix it. But you didn’t want anything to be fixed. Everything was fine as it was, why couldn’t he see that? “Why are you here, Leon?” You ask and the expense of tiredness was evident in your heavy-lidded eyes and Leon’s heart clenched. Have you even been sleeping?

“You never miss a day of training. I wanted to make sure that you were alright.” He explained himself and you sigh. “Well, you see that I’m alright so-” You gesture for him to move back so that you could close the door but he kept his foot on the threshold. “We’re not done here.” He practically growled at you and your sanity was beginning to crack. “Leon, please. I do not have the energy for this.” You rub at your temples, your love for his caring nature now a jab in your side this time around.

He scoffed at you,”Right. And then the next time we talk about it you’ll come up with another excuse - no. We’re talking about this now.” He said as he tried to make his way in. However, you felt something deep within your mind snap and you slapped Leon. He reared back in shock, holding the side of his face that you struck. “I’M FINE, DAMNIT! WHY CAN’T YOU SEE THAT?!” You yelled, a familiar sensation welling up behind your eyes. “Leon please, just go.” You turn on your heel to hide your face, frantically wiping at your eyes to try and coax your body to stop and not betray your promise.

“Damn it, it won’t stop.” You sniffled, your guard down. You hadn’t noticed that Leon had come up behind you, grabbing your waist as he slid into your apartment with you. “Leon! Let me go!” You struggle but then he sits criss crossed in front of your sofa. He places you in his lap, encaging you in the softest hug you had ever had the pleasure of receiving. “Oh.” You say in surprise from the gentleness and what Leon said next shocked you. “Cry.” You blink once and make a sound of confusion. “You’re not okay, [y/n]. And your body needs to get it out and you’re not letting it. Please. Cry.” He brought your head against his bicep, you subconsciously clinging to his shirt.

“I don’t….I don’t…Need..to..” You try to reason with him but you feel the first few hot drops fall down your face. Your last line of defense was biting your lip but your whimpers were far too powerful. You let out a small sob which then transitioned into a symphony of wails. Your grip tightens on Leon and you shove your face into his shirt as you let out years of bottled up emotion. And he held you tightly, rubbing soft circles into your back as he threads his other hand through your hair.

You cried for a little while, but sobs turned into sniffles which led to you passing out. Your body had finally let out everything and now just needed rest. Crystal drops lined your eyelashes as you slept in Leon’s arms, your reddened cheeks and nose leftover from your crying.

Leon stayed sitting for a while, not wanting to disturb you. But once he felt that you were deep in sleep he rose in place and found your room. He laid you out on your bed, having pulled back the covers to tuck you in. After you were snug as a bug, he hesitated in place. He felt like the respectful thing would be to leave but he didn’t want to go. But, his mind was made when he felt your hand grip his. “Stay?” You ask, your voice a little heavy with strain.

Leon smiled and nodded. “For as long as you want me to.” He says and you give a smile of your own. “I fear you may never have another day to yourself again then.” You lightly joke but hope that he would receive it in favor. “Is that a threat, [L/N]?” He teased back as he climbed into bed next to you and pulled you into his embrace. When your scars were in view, he would gently leave ghost kisses behind along the raised bumps and you felt yourself falling in love all over again. He was so scared that he would hurt you, but he still wanted to show that he was here for you. “Oh no, Mr. Kennedy. That’s a promise~”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #re4 leon #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x y/n

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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 2 months

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@intertexts OKAY. FINALLY GETTING MY SHIT TOGETHER AND WRITING THIS ALL DOWN SO ITS NOT JUST ROTATING IN MY BRAIN ANYMORE

NEW HAVEN WARDS MARK WINTERS ESSAY (except its more like. stream of consciousness me being insane over him)

>> its been too long, simurgh is too close. she fucking ROCKS half the city with an earthquake before she shows up. ashe runs inside as the roof collapses. his mom is trapped- she had grabbed her phone and some other small essentials and was on her way out when she got pinned by the rubble. ive typed this part out already in another post but as shes yelling at ashe trying to get him to leave, she realizes he wont go by himself so she texts mark . its kind of a shot in the dark- part of her hopes he hasnt evacuated yet so he can come get ashe and get him to safety, but she immediately feels this sense of dread for thinking like that because then that also means he's in as much danger as they are. and she can hear the singing now- some tiny part of her brain logically knows its too late and theyll be trapped by the quarantine protocols anyway, but. they can still get out of that alive. they just need to get there. anyway the important thing here is that the last thing ever hears from his wife is a text that says "ashe athome cant lea e come get hjm"

adding jonesys stupid fucking image in here bc it's so funny to me and is fr how I felt typing this whole thing up for like 4 hours

>> okay going to try my hardest to keep this chronological but i KNOW i will get distracted from that halfway through. starting from the simurgh attack. assuming simurgh attacks look pretty similar to each other, ive been imagining this a lot like the one we actually got to see with the travelers. the notice to evacuate went out in the early afternoon. (im going to say on a wednesday because thats the day i used in my fic and this is OUR AU i get to make the emotionally devastating rules. not that that matters to anyone but me. its a little treat.) so. mark was at work, ashe was at school, i like 2 think ashes mom works in somehting to do with old things or books or whatever so she was probably at work too. her IMMEDIATE thought is to go get ashe from school, because of course it is! (worldbuilding side note i think there are probably evac protocols in place for schools where. first priority is to keep the kids Togehter and get them out first so theyre SUPPOSED to evacuate straight from there and then meet up with their parents when everything is safe. but in a real emergency what parent is going to trust that and just leave their kids safety up to someone else?) she gets to the school and it is absolute chaos with all of the other parents trying to do the same thing. she gets ashe, goes to call mark to tell him where they are and- oh, yeah. she forgot her phone at home this morning. i just. like. the mundanity in that. its a normal morning, she maybe woke up late and had to rush out the door, got to work realized she didnt have her phone, had the thought like "damn thats frustrating. oh well, not like ill need it, ill just get it when im home later" we've all had days like that!!!!!!!!! but it becomes fucking heartbreaking in this situation because it means she now has No Way of contacting her husband to let him know that she has ashe and to tell him not to go to the school (because hes probably thinking the same thing) and to get out and where to meet them when theyre out. she KNOWS its a bad idea, she knows it would be catastrophic if they took too long... but all the other cars are going in the opposite direction, the road back is completely empty, surely they can be fast enough? she knows exactly where she left it, itll take two seconds and hey maybe the roads will be empty enough at that point they can get out even faster. so they fucking RUSH back home. she tells ashe to stay in the car wiht the doors locked while she runs inside.. he is scared and confused and doesnt want to be alone so after. maybe 30 seconds of her being gone he gets out of the car and goes inside.

>> switching to mark pov finally. evac notice goes out, he fucking books it to his car. but because its important to me that hes a little bit of a coward. this is where he hesitates. he knows he should find his family. meet up with them, make sure theyre all okay and they all make it out together. he's also logical. he knows this is a bad idea and his wife's job is closer to the school, shes probably already got ashe and theyre on their way out too. he can just leave. but he hasnt heard anything from her. thats not like her, she would call or something if they were okay, wouldnt she? so he kind of. panics over what he should do. he starts driving, telling himself he'll make up his mind on the road. hes about halfway to the end of the quarantine zone when he gets the text. has a moment of "fuck why are they there?" before immediately deciding to go get them. finds the aftermath of ashe's trigger. ashe is in breaker state, unresponsive except for... why is he laughing. hes sitting on the floor, knees up to his chest hands over his head jsut kind of. staring into the middle distance eyes unfocused quietly loopy laughing like hes totally unaware of the. scene.

>> mark is like. frozen there for a minute obviously horrified and he thinks ashe is having some kind of mental break at the shock and horror (he doesnt. understand that ashe killed her yet) until he goes and tries to get him to stand up and . oh the floor is unstable and bouncy like a trampoline and as soon as he touches ashe's shoulder hes knocked back by a pain in his hand that suspiciously feels like a joybuzzer turned up to 11. okay! fuck! his kid is a fucking parahuman and his wife is dead and the singing in his head just keeps getting louder and he knows what that means and he knows they have to get the hell out of there but hows he gonna do that when he cant get within 5 feet of ashe-

>> i think he just has to like. sit there and talk to ashe. which is a uniquely horrible punishment because it kills so much time in a situation where they need to get out, now, and the whole time theyre in the same room with whats left of a bloody corpse (but he cant think about that right now) and he has to be calm and keep his voice low because every sudden movement makes ashe's powers flare up again in response to a perceived threat- its MESSY, its SLOW its TERRIBLE but he needs ashe to calm down enough that he can actually talk to him and get him out. he eventually does (it feels like hours later, it was probably only like.. 10 minutes) and the weird distortions stop and mark just. runs forward and picks him up and takes him out to the car before ashe can. see what else is in the room.

>> he doesnt even bother putting ashe in another seat in the car he just holds him in his lap as he drives (oh god there are wings in the sky) just. as fast as he fucking can to whatever checkpoint or hospital or safe zone there is for any survivors. theres. not many. enough that the two of them can get lost in the crowd if they try hard enough but . not enough to fill an auditorium. he's maybe got a bunch of really small scrapes or bruises from the process of trying to get ashe to calm down but he doesnt know whether ashe is actually hurt or not so he goes to find some sort of medical attention and the whole time hes thinking "maybe this is a bad idea. i shouldnt tell them ashe has powers what if they take him away" and he gets the same sort of rundown about quarantine and payment that krouse got and mark is just standing there fucking shaking, hes still carrying ashe, he hasnt put him down since they left the house (ashe is still out of it- not because of his powers but because of. everything) and i think thats the breaking point where mark makes up his mind like. fuck this. we cant stay here, we cant go through all of the bullshit protocols, we cant wait that long (he can still hear simurgh in his head- what if shes pushing him to make this choice? is that exactly what she wants? who cares im getting my son somewhere safe)

>> i think mark is really good at. compartmentalizing and pushing down any emotion thats not anger and turning to logic in panic situations rather than emotion. so he hasnt like. fully processed any of this yet. he was more focused on "solve the problem, get out, get safe" to actually think about the fact that. oh my wife is dead. ashe doesnt have a mom anymore. ashe has powers now. how is he gonna deal with a powered kid? he never really cared about capes what does he even do now? i dont think any of this hits him until theyre out of the quarantine zone hiding out somewhere safe (as safe as they can be after. all of that) and his head is quiet and ashe is asleep and he looks down at his phone and sees the text and it all comes crashing down like. oh my god that was real. shes gone. he doesnt even have anything of hers and he never will because their house is basically gone and they can never go back and- FUCK HIM UP!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK HIM UP i want him to have a fucking breakdown . villain origin story moment he realizes nothing is ever going to be okay or normal ever again because theyve been marked by simurgh and hes already broken a huge fucking law how much worse can it get? what else does he have to lose. everything in his life revolves around keeping them safe and keeping ashe out of danger. simurgh be damned if hes going to become an agent of chaos it might as well be on his own terms to protect whats left of his family.

>> i think they move around a lot after that, never staying in one place for too long, never doing anything that make people look at them too closely. mark does a bunch of odd jobs, but its hard to get a job when youre legally dead and have no experience with making a fake identity so. theres a lot of stealing. never anything that would garner cape attention, at least at first, and if people started to get too suspicious theyd just pack up and move again.

>> and then mark does something that DOES draw cape attention. idk what it would be, but it captures the attention of. a guy who knows a guy who works for overlord. hey man you seem like you could use a job. off the books. so he joins up as like a... foot soldier mercenary whatever for overlord. this job is risky- hes essentially a full time criminal now (but what does that matter, he already broke the law), he has to spend extended periods of time away from home, he has to kill people sometimes now... but the money is worth it. he's okay with being a number, a blank face in the crowd, because it means he wont get the immediate fallout if something goes wrong. that gets put on whoever his boss is. ashe is maybe 13/14 by this point, he can take care of himself at home. mark gives himself a limit, hes never going to be away from home for more than 3 days (which he eventually extends into 5 days, which then turns into a week-). he is. really fucking good at his job. hes smart, he can be ruthless when he needs to be, he's efficient. no identity means no friends which means no slacking off on the job. this is all he has, he needs this, so hes good at it.

>> he starts to move up the ranks, take bigger (but never riskier) jobs, and it catches overlord's attention. overlord offers him a promotion. offer being in air quotes here. he lays everything out plain and simple- youre good, youre going to join my personal elite team, i know who you are and why youre running. i can offer you an out, get you and your son (oh god oh fuck overlord knows about his kid) a new life, a new identity, nobody will have any reason to suspect you. and also in order to join you have to take this (cauldron vial!!! + canon parallel to the like. forced experimentation on harttawa)

>> mark doesnt want pwoers. he doesnt want to be a cape. but overlord knows about ashe, knows about their history, and if he turns down this offer theyre both fucked. so logic takes over emotion again and he accepts it, leans into the position, stays as fucking ruthless as ever. but its Different now. hes a cape, he has a secret identity, a name, people are Looking at him now, even if all they see is a costume.

>> silly sidebar for ME here but this period of time is where he meets tide :] forever thinking about ur nhw tidalwave post. fight to maim, not kill.

>> a couple years pass like this and its Fine. ashe is 17 now, mark knows hes fucked up (theyre both fucked up) but hes too deep into this job now to give it up. its kept them safe and in place for this long, he can fool himself into believing they can stay like this . ashe does not have the same train of thought. hes lonely, hes miserable, hes bored, he just wants to have a life! they fight a lot about this. they fight a lot about this and sometimes mark leaves in the middle of it because he gets called on a job so nothing ever gets resolved. they have a particularly rough fight and mark gets pulled away in the middle of it to answer a phonecall, and when he comes back ashe is still pissed but hes just so tired and defeated that hes like "listen. we'll deal with this later, i have to go for a few days, there are groceries in the fridge, do whatever you want, just stay here, be safe, dont be stupid" and then he leaves! and ashe is still pissed and his dad is a hypocrite (why does he get to go out and use his powers and put himself in dangerous situations when ashe gets in trouble for floating the tv remote to the kitchen table while hes eating breakfast, and never gets to leave the house or go to school or have friends or-) . and this is where he makes the decision to sneak out the first time!!

>> he starts sneaking out more often, usually only when he knows mark is gonna be gone for extended periods of time, he gets good at disabling the tinker devices, he has friends!! everything is good!!!! mark finds out when he gets home from a job early and ashe is gone. and he fucking freaks out, hes ready to tear up city streets, hes ready to go on a fucking rampage... but then he hears the window open as he climbs back into his room . its a big like. "oh shit" moment on ashes part, he doesnt think hes ever seen his dad this angry before, he threatens to put bars on the goddamn windows, etc (mark has a reason to be as angry as he does- if anything ever happens to ashe everything hes ever done will have been for nothing. but its still. harsh.)

>> i think once everything cools down from this they do have an actual talk about it that isnt a fight; ashe tells him he has friends now and he just wants to be normal, be a kid, he cant spend anymore time in his room its killing him knowing hes wasting his life like this etc. i think mark maybe reluctantly agrees to letting him go out with his friends (he doesnt know who they are yet, ive GOTTA believe he knows tide hes had to have fought or at least seen the wards before, theres no way he would say yes to this if he knew thats who ashe was talking about) but gives him strict like. dont use your powers ever, curfews and check in texts and a code system and its a little Too Much but ashe is just. giddy at all of it because !! curfews are a thing Normal kids get!! he gets to go hang out with his friends without the looming threat of sneaking out to do it !!!

>> ashe starts using his powers anyway because his friends are capes and !!! he is also technically a cape!! he can help!!!! i think he starts out by beggingggg to go on patrol with them sometimes (i wont even do anything, i just want to see what its like, you guys know i have powers too i can handle myself, dont be like my dad etc etc) i think the wards are pretty reluctant to do that bc they know what its really like but. man. its ashe. he deserves Something. it becomes more frequent and serious and the prt handler tells them they should recruit him.

>> mark is sooooooo fucking against ashe joining the wards. because of course he is he has to be. ESPECIALLY considering. hey. hes a villain, working for one of the most notorious villains in the city, being put in a situation where he has to choose between fighting his son or losing overlords protection is a HUGE NIGHTMARE SCENARIO. (he would choose to say fuck overlord with no hesitation, no way he would even consider the other option, but he also knows what kind of consequences a choice like that would have)

>> hey. actually. that gives me an idea. what if thats exactly the scenario that leads up to the whole trickster thing. overlord wants to be proactive, launch an attack on the wards, they just got a dangerous new member lets go see what kind of powers theyve got. mark obviosuly refuses. overlord does not take being told no very kindly. hey what if this is how mark gets the lizard stuff. instead of getting it as a side effect mutation of his powers, he pisses off overlord, the guy who has a morbid fascination with animal human hybrids and genetic experimentation. ive solved everything!!!!!! (<< guy who is fucking insane. please imagine me with mad science hair and crazy eyes as i am saying this. dr. cross who?)

>> mark effectively goes missing while overlord has him captive, ashe is freaked out because his dad has never left without telling him first, but maybe it was an emergency or whatever... until his hard limit on jobs passes. its been over a week and no contact whatsoever. hes gone. ashe gets fucked up about this

>> mark is unconscious for the entire trickster thing. he was unmasked for the experimentation so when the heroes come to clean up the aftermath they dont recognize him as one of the villains (tide does. tide doesnt tell anyone) and take him to. a hospital rather than prison. he is fuuuucked up when he wakes up. gotta adjust to a WHOLE lot of freaky lizard things. hes kind of out of it, understandably, so nobody... tells him. its only a few days later, when mark is more lucid and can stand on his own two feet without losing balance, and when he can see properly again, tide visits him (tide has been visiting him the whole time, not that he'd remember it much, because who else will. who else will!) tide tells him ashe is missing. he breaks the news as gently as he possibly can because its gonna be a shitshow either way (he knows how mark is gonna react no matter what. waiting doesnt help either because then hes just pissed that he was lied to for days ("you coudlnt even stand, how was i supposed to tell you then?" "i dont know, i wouldve done something. he could be anywhere by now")

>> mark goes sooooo rogue. he goes so very rogue. hes literally got nothing to lose anymore. the wards try to work with him, try to help him, because theyre looking for ashe too, but he thinks theyre too slow, too good, too afraid to do things that actually need to be done. he goes too far and gets put in the birdcage.

>> i think he probably loses it a little bit in the birdcage. hardcore despair depression that turns into just this awful terrible rage. hes mad at himself for not being able to stop it, hes mad at ashe because this is what he WARNED him about for YEARS and if he only would have listened, hes mad at the world, hes mad at SIMURGH . all nhw mark winters knows is be so full of grief and rage at all times

>> breaks out of the birdcage (still insane abt this btw) and goes back on his. sort of rampage. the wards stop him (tide is. retired at this point. that happened while mark was in jail) and they try to talk some sense into him, maybe they get him to slow down just a little bit, enough to tell him what theyve learned (not much). mark and everyone else eventually learn about muse. mark winters worlds most miserable man is watching every single one of his nightmares play out in front of him and he realizes this is what simurgh marked them for. hes watching his son, unmasked, level a fucking town in some gaudy outfit he knows ashe would never wear and hes calling himself muse and thats not what his laugh sounds like and

>> okay im a little more fuzzy past this point. i said this mostly joking before but i DO think there should be a moment where. mark is up against muse and hes trying to talk to ashe like he did that first night to get him out of breaker state and ashe gets one lucid moment where he just starts crying and babbling about losing marks jacket and hes so sorry but that only lasts about 2 minutes before trickster gets control of him again. this is the catalyst for them realizing that yeah, ashe IS still in there and it might be possible to break him out .

>> god. all of that was plot and i didnt even talk about Little Things which are my favorite. heres a collection of Little Things:

>> i want him to keep his weird terrible lizard biology <3 maybe its not as smooth a transition as in canon, maybe hes just got the scales and the eye and not. the tail or infrared sense or whatever. but he Could. as a Treat for Me.

>> i actually... ironically think mark is a better dad in this au than he is in canon. like. dont get me wrong hes still awful and he sucks but. hes working with the knowledge here that no matter what he does he and ashe are still doomed and hes always waiting for the other shoe to drop and hes more scared and theres nothing he can do about it so. he makes more of an effort to Actually Care about his son. before overlord he never wouldve missed a birthday for anyhting. theyre all each other has.

>> that little bit of dialogue i typed up for mark earlier. stay here, be safe, dont be stupid. be safe, dont be stupid. he says that a lot, always in that order. enough that when ashe is with the wards sometimes he'll also say it. dakota "im going to pick up the pizza" ashe from the couch "be safe dont be stupid" (IMMEDIATE recoil as he thinks about it for more than a second because he has an oh god i sound like my dad moment. but everyone else finds it endearing)

>> THE COAT!!!!!!!! THECOAT. i think about the coat a lot. its just. a random one that ashe grabbed from the closet the first time he snuck out. but it was a good size, exactly as baggy as he likes, hey! he found old money in the pocket! so he just like. claims it as his own and neither of them ever say anything about it but its suuuuch. comfort clothing for ashe and he doesnt like thinking about why. it just is. he wears it EVERYWHERE all the time, its the one piece of clothing the rest of the wards never steal beacuse they know its important to him.

>> there is exactly one (1) surviving picture of ashes mom outside of their old house and its a crumpled polaroid mark had in his wallet from when ashe was a baby.

>> he will never admit this to himself or anyone else but. as much as mark is scared for ashe and scared for both of their safety and what it means for them to be simurgh victims... he is also scared OF ashe, even just subconsciously . he has nightmares about finding ashe that day, laughing. about what mightve happened if he wasnt able to break ashe out of that state. about what mightve happened if he had never gotten that text and continued on with the evac protocols. i need that blonde man to be fucking miserable

>> literally always thinking about your tidalwave post. never not thinking about your tidalwave post. i dont even have much to add here other than i really like nhw tidalwave a lot. the aftermath of the leviathan fight makes me crazy even if thats mostly one-sided on tides part.

>> his tinker specialty is power enhancement. he makes devices that make his and other peoples powers stronger or extend their range. the drawback is that the devices need to be Connected to the person using them in some way (thinking about the ports he has on his back in canon. his gauntlets clamp down on his forearms. overlord had him make each of the capes under his power something that enhances them too so theyve all got little. gadgets embedded in them somehow) (begs the question can he also make things that dampen powers? is this falling too far into Trump category?)

>> he got ashe his headphones as a birthday present when he was like... 15 . their fights had been getting more frequent as he had to be away from home more and ashe was fully in his angsty teen "i hate my dad" phase, but mark had been working w overlord for like a year at that point and money wasnt as much of an issue anymore so he got ashe like. the most high quality noise cancelling headphones he could possibly find.

okay i think thats all. its nearly 1am lmao!!!!!

#new haven wards #wow. that was a lot . ive been Thinking about him #have fun with ep 36 <3 #cannot wait for u to finish that and then be normal for a second and then immediately get hit with. nhw mark psychic blast

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