#this was made like while i was watching it like . mid series . somewhere in there

[beansismyreligion]

apotheosis doodle page i made a while ago and forgot to post anywhere

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 18: First Impressions Are Often Correct

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eighteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 11.6K

Warnings: I'm going to rate this one 18+ just to be on the safe side. :) References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Mentions of Death, Blood, Gore, Possessive Soldier Boy, Protective Soldier Boy, Soft Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: I'm so sorry, I know this has been a long time coming. I work hard, but writer's block works harder tbh.

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

It had to be herogasm. You think to yourself with an audible groan looking up at the mid-century house from your position in the tree-line while watching the couples on the back porch writhe against one another.

The three hour drive from your apartment to Vermont had been uneventful and quiet. Every once in a while Ben would whisper something to you and you would half answer, but only because your mind was somewhere else or rather on someone else.

It was on Rosemary. She had stopped trying to text you or call you, and the silence was worse. You had no idea what she was going to do or what she was thinking. It was a miracle that she hadn’t shown up to your apartment and kicked down the front door before you left. You knew she was angry about the whole situation. And the sooner you dealt with the twins the sooner you could go see her.

Of course you still had no idea how you were going to bring up the conversation with Ben and you knew that there was no way he would let you just leave with no explanation to go talk to her.

This is why I hate texting. I should have just gone to see her, I shouldn’t have told her that Ben was back in a text, if anything that's a three drink minimum. Hell, she's probably half way through a second bottle of wine by now. Something that you also had considered several times today. Guess sobriety is going out the window. Shocker.

Ben kept asking you what was wrong, sensing your discomfort on the drive and held your hand tightly between the two of you, but you only shook your head whenever he asked. He thought that you were having second thoughts of going after the twins, but that was the one thing you were sure of. They deserved to pay for what they did, all of your team did. Anger rises beneath your skin like a roaring crowd when you think of all the years Ben spent alone in Russia being tortured and experimented on. Years that you could have stopped if only you'd known, years that he could never get back, memories that wouldn't fade in the next decade or two, and memories that you hoped you could replace by making him feel loved, by holding him close, and allowing yourself to forget the memories that still plagued you when you thought about the past.

But you still didn't know how the hell you were going to tell him about Rosemary. Every moment it felt like the words were going to vomit out of your mouth, but you clamped your jaw shut. You didn’t want to talk about Rosemary in front of Butcher and Hughie, didn’t want to tell Ben like that. What you needed to say about Rosemary and Lou didn’t deserve to be shouted at him or said in haste, you wanted to sit Ben down and tell him, give him time to adjust to the idea. Because you had no idea how he was going to react to the news that he was a dad and a grandfather.

Would he pull away again? Would he run? Would he leave me? Those thoughts kept swirling around your mind like a mixtape. You were scared that by telling him about her would make him go cold like he did the moment you told him you loved him. You remembered the distant look that replaced his smile as soon as you had uttered those three little words.

Little but not simple. Three little words that launched ships and started a hundred wars. Three little words with the power to create and the power to destroy. Three words that Ben had said to you more times than you could count since he came back to you, and three words you wished you never stopped hearing him say, the three words you always wanted him to say to you.

If Ben pushed you away now, you knew that you wouldn't survive it this time, knew that there was no going back. Which made you more fearful about Rosemary's reaction to Ben coming back into your life.

You were afraid that Rosemary would give you an ultimatum and make you choose between her and Lou or Ben. You really hoped that it didn’t come to that. You had just gotten Ben back and you didn’t want to have to pick between him and your family.

Because Ben is family too. You knew that deep down in your bones, even after everything that happened, Ben was your family. He was the only person who knew you inside and out, the only man you’d ever loved and the only person who understood you. You couldn’t turn your back on him and you didn’t want to shut him out. Not when you loved him more than life itself.

Your frown deepens as you continue to watch the people on the back porch while your supe hearing picks up the moans and sounds of the couples inside and the subtle thump of music, new pop songs that you didn't understand and didn't try. You were up with the times, but it didn't mean you had to like what was happening or the new music being produced no matter how hard Rosemary tried to get you to listen to it.

You sigh again, trying to drown out the sounds by focusing on the wind moving through the trees and the birds flitting through the branches overhead, but it wasn’t working. The beautiful day was already ruined by the loud and messy sounds from the inside of the house. 

“Always wanted to bring you to one of these Sweetheart.” Ben glances over at you with a cheeky grin, lowering the binoculars from his eyes, but then he notes your frown. “Then again-“ His hand comes around your waist to pull you into him. “That means I would have had to share you with someone else, and I’d much rather have you all to myself.”

 You can feel his smirk against your ear, but it does little ease your anxiety about Rosemary and the looming conversation you were going to have with Ben when this was over.

Hughie had disappeared a few moments ago to scout out the inside and to find the twins, while Butcher was doing a walk of the perimeter, leaving you and Ben to wait for the all clear. A welcome break, because every few minutes Hughie would play with a Geiger counter and the high pitched creak-like squeak was giving you a headache. Not to mention annoying you. You'd only been able to have a few sips of your coffee this morning after Butcher and Hughie burst into you apartment, but at least your anxiety was picking up the slack.

Because of course it was.

The house in front of you looked innocent enough on the outside, big windows light wood,  but now that you were here, you really didn’t want to go inside. Despite wanting to face the twins, you didn’t want to go inside and be reminded of the one reason why you stayed away from Herogasm.

At least today we aren’t attending it as much as crashing it.

“Why do you think I hated going to Herogasm?” You murmur, frown deepening at you continue to stare at the house.  The memories of the past had an ugly way of crashing down on you and despite not wanting to make Ben feel guilty, keeping them to yourself made you feel worse. Plus you figured he knew when you were lying, because Ben was basically a human lie detector when it came to you.

Ben sighs, his warm breath washing over the side of your face as his arm tightens around your waist to secure you to him. “Sweetheart please look at me.” His voice is comforting, filled with emotion, but you still don't look at him.

“What?” You whisper, mind still a million miles away.

His fingertips come under your chin to turn your face to his. Ben’s green eyes lock with yours, soft and apologetic, familiar in the best way and weird given the fact that he was wearing his uniform. You’d never seen him look so sorry when he was dressed up as Soldier Boy.

“I would have killed any man who tried to touch you, especially after the night we shared together. When Vogelbaum danced with you I wanted to rip his arms off.”  His eyes darken.

You remembered the way he watched Vogelbaum and you dance together at the premiere with the cameras flashing in your eyes, but then the image of Countess plastered to his hip arises. The way she ran her hands up his chest, the way he turned his gaze away from you to stare at her.

“Yes, but see I never killed any woman that touched you-“

Double standard much?

“Well-“

“Countess doesn’t count.” You snap.

Ben’s thumb strokes along your jaw, before his expression softens again. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve apologized-“ You sigh, suddenly guilty. You hadn't meant to snap at him like that, you were on edge because of Rosemary, not because of what Ben did in the past. You were already starting to forgive him for what he did.

“Not for this.” He takes in a deep breath before he pulls you closer to him. “I’m sorry that I made you think I didn’t want you. Because I do. I don't want anyone else, haven't ever wanted anyone else like I want you. I was so stupid. I fucked those other women because I couldn’t handle how I felt about you and I didn’t think that you would ever want me even a fraction of how much I want you-“

“More.” You whisper before you can stop yourself, laying your hand against the front of his suit.

“That is impossible.” Ben smiles faintly.

You toy with the material, plucking it between your fingers. “It’s okay. I understand why you did it. But it was hard to watch you with them.” You try to fight the image of him and Countess again, that is quickly followed by the memories of the many women over the years you’d see Ben with in public and of course the memory of the first and only Herogasm you ever went to, the one you left early because you couldn’t bear to see Ben with anyone else. The same one that you swore you saw Ben watching you just as closely when Noir tried to reach out for you and you walked away.

It’s different now. You think to yourself. Ben said that he’s wanted me this whole time and I believe him. I don’t think he would lie about something like that, not to mention he’s been more open about what he’s feeling.

“I know.” Ben continues to stroke along your jaw. “But I promise it won’t happen ever again.”

“I believe you.” You lock your arms around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you, loving the way his body felt wrapped around you, like he was molded just for you.

“Good.” He leans his forehead against yours for a moment. "Can I kiss you yet?" Ben's words are quiet, barely above a whisper, so low that you know if you didn't have super hearing you'd have missed them.

"You've never been a patient man. In all the years I've known you." You breathe with a smile.

"Maybe I've just never met someone worth waiting for." Ben's nose nudges into the space between you faces, waiting for you to tell him it's okay and you want to. "But you are Sweetheart."

"You've waited forty years."

"You waited longer."

His words make a ball of emotion lodge in the back of your throat, because it meant Ben listened. He heard everything you said to him and he wasn't going to forget, he was going to make this up to you.

It was hard to say no to him, not when he was smiling at you and gazing at you the way you'd always wished him to.

"We both know I'm a bit more patient than you."

"Maybe."

"You know, maybe we should be focusing on something else right now." You smirk, still keeping your lips just as hairsbreadth away from his.

“It's hard to focus on anything else, not when you’re wearing something like that.” Ben purrs, thumbs brushing against you hips in a way that makes your chest tight.

Your smirk deepens “Oh this old thing?”

At the last minute you had chosen to wear the outfit you had picked when you thought you were going to be going to Russia to get Ben, rather than your old supe suit. You didn’t want to be connected with the person you were then, and despite Ben’s want to hold on to Soldier Boy, you were more than happy to let Indigo go.

The outfit was working better than you thought. The tight black tactical pants, combat boots, black leather jacket, and long sleeved leather corseted blouse that was sinched at your waist all perfectly accentuated the curves that your mother tried to hide. When you had walked out of your closet wearing it, Ben’s entire body had gone rigid.

“What?” You’d asked him with an innocent smile standing just a few steps outside your closet, while watching the tension in his shoulders.

“Damn it sweetheart you’re making this hard.” He had responded, clenching his hands into fists at his sides to hold himself back from crossing your bedroom to touch you. It made you smile wider to understand that he was trying to respect the boundaries you made between the two of you.

“What is it that I’m making hard Benjamin?”

“Fuck. Don’t tease me. Nobody likes a tease.”

You’d smirked at him. “Sorry babe you walked right into that one.”

“It’s not fair-“ Ben had growled.

“What’s not fair?”

“You wearing that, biting your fucking lip like that-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He’d stalked towards you, eyes dark, causing you to back up until your back hit your pale bedroom wall. His hand had landed next to your head, the other wound around your hip so you could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes.

“You know, two can play at that game Sweetheart.” Ben had murmured, easing his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips.

“And what game is that?” You’d said it trying to keep your composure, but the dark look in his eyes and the smell of his shampoo was everywhere. Your heart beat had given you away, thudding violently in your chest as if it wanted to break free. It was hard to ignore how much you still wanted him after all these years.

"You know exactly what game." Ben had held your gaze, raising an eyebrow as a confident smirk pulled at his lips. He could hear your heartbeat too, probably could smell how much you wanted him. “But you’re so fucking beautiful I'll let it slide.”

“Huh?” It had been the last thing you thought he was going to say. If anything you’d thought he was going to tease you.

The hand that had been previously on the wall near your head dropped onto your face to gently trace the arch of your brow and the dip of your bottom lip.

“You always have been. I thought I remembered wrong but-" His expression shifted from the seductive smirk into something softer. "Fuck I missed you." Ben had leaned his forehead against yours. "So tease me all you want. I'll wait, because you're worth every second."

Remembering what he said earlier still filled you with an incredible amount of love and made you want to kiss him all the more now. Knowing that he was willing to wait for you to be okay with whatever came next made you fall harder for him. But now you knew that you needed to focus on what you were about to do. And standing here in front of the house, listening to what was going on inside made you sober up, just a little bit…. But not completely.

"Then again I thought those overalls were pretty sexy too." Ben states, staring down at you with a wide smile as the mid-afternoon sun turned his hair into a light brown and found the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looked every bit as handsome as you were accustomed to, so much in fact that it made your heart ache.

"Sure." You roll your eyes. "I think you're the first person in history to say that." Your fingers lightly curl into the strands at the back of his head.

"Maybe. Or maybe you're just the sexiest woman in history."

"Shut up."

Ben's gaze darkens. "Make me, Sweetheart."

Every viable thought except the thought of crashing your lips to his vanishes.

I wonder if they're as soft as I remember. If he still makes that sound when I-

"You two ready?" Butcher interrupts appearing just over Ben's shoulder, but smirking when he sees how close the two of you are. "Or do you love birds need a little alone  time?"

You roll your eyes and let go of Ben's hair, as he loosens his grip on your hips. Stepping back away from him was like having a bucket of cold water drop over you, you missed him and yet he was standing a full sixteen inches away from you.

This is really not good.

"You have the worst fucking timing." Ben moves to pick up his shield, but the playful smirk he'd had a few seconds ago has been replaced with a frown.

You wondered if he was as disappointed as you were.

The wind shifts and you can smell the Temp V in Butcher's veins, hear the steady beat of his heart as it pumps blood through his body, strengthening him, making him feel indestructible. When Butcher and Hughie had injected it at the back of Butcher's car, you couldn't help but be reminded of the day you took V. You had been afraid and when they injected it, you remember the pain, the unspeakable pain that made you scream so loud that Ben heard you from the room he was being kept in, and he broke through the wall to get to you. It was how the scientists learned that Ben had super strength, because he had smashed through solid rock to make sure you were okay.

Butcher shrugs and begins to walk through the trees towards the side door of the house, leaving you and Ben alone.

"You didn't answer my question." He hefts his shield up with a smirk.

He didn't have to explain, you knew he was asking about the kiss. "I'll take a raincheck."

"Hmm." Ben takes a few steps towards the house, before he stops to look back at you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Huh?"

"In the car, even now. You're kinda quiet." He shrugs.

"I-" You were going to say that you were fine, but you knew that he would clock the lie. "We need to talk about something, but it can wait. This is important too."

Ben's frown deepens, but then he finally sighs. "Alright. Come on you’re lagging behind doll."

"Guess you changed your mind about wanting me here." You snort as you catch up to him.

Ben puts his hand on your wrist, turning you to look at him. "I always want you with me." His hand trails up your arm to finally rest under your chin. Ben smiles, leaning down towards you, but before you can arch up into him, he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I love you." He murmurs into the top of your head.

"I love you too."

And with that, you both follow Butcher into the house hosting the worst event in all of history.

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

I should have brought ear plugs. You cringe as you follow behind Ben and Butcher, weaving through the lower levels of the house. Maybe someone will let me borrow their blindfold. Hopefully there are nose plugs somewhere… well there have been other kinds of plugs but those are a bit big for my nose.

You walk down the staircase after Ben and Butcher who pulled ahead a few moments ago and as you do the sharp sour smell of a chemical wafts in your face, different than the other odors in the house.

What is that?

You round the corner and see Ben up ahead, shrouded in smoke, staring down an attractive muscular black man who for some reason has decided to raise his fists to challenge Ben. Your eyes trace the man's face, recognition pulling at your heart. You knew who he was. The first time you'd seen him he'd only been a boy, made eye contact with you at a funeral you couldn't help but go to, after Ben made a mistake. You'd offered the boy an encouraging smile and left the boy's family an envelope of cash in their mailbox because you couldn't think of anything else to do for them. You knew it couldn't replace who they lost, but you didn't know what else to do. Ben had been upset with himself after, he always was when he lost control. He showed up on your doorstep like he always did, drunk, high, smelling like stale perfume, and fell asleep in your bed after you reassured him the same way you always did.

Now that little boy was grown up and standing in front of you. You see recognition flash in his eyes as he sees you. Of course it does. You didn't look any different and you hadn't worn your supe suit when you went to the funeral.

"Not him." Butcher says to Ben, but Ben doesn't look away from the man.

"Ben." You whisper, reaching out to touch his arm gently.

Ben's eyes flick to yours. The look in Ben's eyes is familiar, predatory, unwilling to back down from a fight. Soldier Boy. You'd seen it countless times before, talked him out of killing people in the past. You hated how quickly you had to slip into your old job, the one that made you feel like a babysitter, but you shake it off.

"He doesn't know what he's doing. Come on. The Twins are upstairs, I can hear them arguing." It was true, you could, but you didn't want this to turn ugly so quickly. Not when the real reason why you were here were currently arguing about toilet cameras. 

His jaw tightens, eyes sliding to the man standing at the other end of the room, before he nods once and motions for you to go ahead of him.

As you continue to move through the house, you fight the shudder that threatens to travel down your spine when you think of how Ben looked moments ago. It was the first time you had seen Soldier Boy since Ben showed up again, and it was the same way you remembered it. You just hoped deep down that Ben really did want to change and that he was adopting the façade of Soldier Boy to get through what came next. You knew that you were going to have to adopt one as well.

"Here." You stop just before the two of you round the corner where the Twins were in the other room. "Let me go first. They might not try to run if I go in before you."

Ben frowns. "I don't want you to-"

"I know, but it'll be better this way."

"Fine."

You walk around the wall and towards the circular room where the Twins are fighting, ignoring the couples on the outskirts that are grinding against one another.

Like Countess, the Twins didn't look good, both were considerably older, rounder, grayer, and more wrinkly than the last time you'd seen them, but they were still the same. Still arguing and still just as annoying as they had been forty years ago.

"I never want to see you again!" Tommy spits at his sister, adjusting the golden robe slung over his shoulders that flaps around him like a cape.

"Oh sure!" Tessa sniffs while puffing on a joint. "Our Westfield mall appearance is next week and nobody is going to come see you without me!"

That must suck to have your powers depend on someone else.

"Wow, mall appearances? Aren't we all getting a bit old for that?" You flash a winning smile as you step down into the room, locking eyes with Tessa.

Both of the twins visibly pale, their hearts speeding up to work overtime, as the stench of adrenaline begins to waft through the air between you. It's almost comical how identical their reactions are to Countess' at seeing you for the first time in forty years. Then again you hoped that you looked better than they did.

Why didn't I try to find out more after Ben "died?" If our entire team had this reaction to seeing me then I would have known the truth and Ben wouldn't have been in a fucking Russian Lab all these years!

Their plan to ensure you not being in Nicaragua had paid off, because not only were you not there, you didn't want anything to do with any of them. And you wished that you had confronted them all those years ago. You knew that you'd live with that guilt for a long time, but now you allowed your anger at what they all did to Ben, overpower it.

"Y/n-" Tessa stutters.

It was weird to see her at a loss for words. You and all of Payback had listened to her nag Tommy since the moment they joined the team. Judging by what you had walked into, you figured that she hadn't changed at all.

"Hey long time no see!" Tommy fakes enthusiasm while licking his lips nervously, eyes darting to the open doors behind you. You could practically see the escape plan forming in his mind.

"You know, when I found out you guys were living in Vermont I was surprised. I would have thought that you moved down South. They’re probably more accepting of your relationship.” You make air quotes around the word relationship, before shifting your smile into an worried frown. “Oh sorry, are the two of you still pretending that you’re not fucking?”

Tessa’s gaze turns stone cold. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d check in.” You look around the room. “You guys have a nice house. Must have budgeted better than Countess did. Her tailer, now that was a shit hole. Must not have done as many mall appearances.”

Tommy’s heart skips a beat at the mention of Countess’s name. “Look y/n-“

“Please. We didn’t have anything against you. We didn’t come after you. Even after all these years we left you alone.” Fear seeps into Tessa’s voice with her plea, eyes wide with worry.

They had reason to be worried, you’d all but admitted to killing Countess.

“Oh sweetie.” You with false sweetness in your tone. “It’s cute that you think you can beg for mercy. That you're deserving of it.” The room begins to shake with the force of your anger as your eyes shift to bright purple. Cracks like thin spiderwebs stretch through the wide windows behind them and through the thick drywall as you lose control, the composure you always held on to drowning in the flood of emotion you feel when you look at the two of them. “Ben told me exactly what happened that day-“

“He lied to you!” Tommy exclaims. “He went crazy! You know how he gets, how he loses control!”

“He lost control and we had to protect ourselves y/n-“ Tessa adds, another lie.

Ben steps into the room beside you, his eyes are focused on the Twins, and if you thought they looked afraid when you showed up, they look near dead when Ben appears.

"You were saying?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Ben! Hey Buddy!." Tommy forces another smile but pales when he realizes Ben just heard him and Tessa try to lie to you. "How are you? Long time. We were just talking to y/n about-“

Ben's eyes narrow, stopping whatever Tommy was going to say about you.

"Nicaragua wasn't our fault!" Tommy says to recover. "Neither was the premiere." His eyes dart to yours, cowering under the purple light that pulses from your irises.

Wow. Just. Wow.

"We swear." Tessa adds.

"Why should we believe you?" You spit.

"Please-"

"Then whose fault was it?" Ben's frown deepens, hand tightening on the shield.

None of the other couples have stopped what they are doing, too enthralled in one another to notice what was going to unfold between the four of you.

"It was Noir!" Tommy shouts desperately, his eyes flitting from Ben to you as if trying to see which one of you will believe him. "He gave Ben to the Russians."

It's almost pathetic watching his mad scramble to protect himself. Apart of you hates that you don't feel guilty for any of this, at least with Countess at the beginning you felt some guilt for hurting her, but with them there was nothing. Not even the prick of remorse, there was only anger.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "We all know that Noir didn't even take a shit without Vought's say so."

"Not to mention his head was so far up Stan's ass it's a wonder that he could breathe." You narrow your eyes at the two of them waiting for them to make a move. They might be cowards, but if you knew the Twins well enough, you knew that they weren't above throwing a bolt of lighting in your direction. And you knew for a fact that electrocution wasn't fun.

"It's the truth!" Tessa shouts above the moans and wet squelch of the people around you. “Please y/n we have children.”

“You're really the worst liar hon. Always have been." You snap, listening to her heartbeat jolt in her chest as she attempts to save herself.

"Please talk Ben out of this, just like you did for Noir-“ Tommy's plea falls on deaf ears, but you knew what he was talking about. The day that you saved Noir's life because he started a fight with Ben over a stupid role in a movie. But this was different, no part of you wanted to save them from this, to save them from what they deserved.

“Noir will get what’s coming to him.” You don't recognize your own voice. "You brought this on yourselves."

But then something shifts in the air, call it a feeling, or an energy current, but something feels wrong.

The music coming from the radio has changed to a Russian pop song, why it's playing you have no idea, all you know is that it does something to Ben.

The sound of his shield hitting the ground rings in your ears and you turn to look at him. His entire body is tensed beneath his suit, sweat dotting along his hairline, red beginning to creep into his cheeks. His eyes are squeezed shut and he shakes his head as if he's trying to clear it.

"Ben? Are you okay?" Your hold on the room vanishes, eyes fading back to their normal color as your worry turns to Ben.

His fists are clenched tightly together as he brings them up to the sides of his head, chest beginning to glow with his new power, the one you'd never seen before, the one that Ben said practically vaporized whatever was in it's path.

Shit.

"Ben. Stay with me, listen to my voice." You touch the sides of his face, begging him to listen to your plea. As much as you wanted the Twins to pay, Ben wasn't just losing control of his powers, this was different. It was almost like he was being dragged somewhere else, somewhere you couldn't follow.

"Everything's okay. I'm here, I'm right here." You soothe, but he continues to glow brighter and brighter and you're directly in the line of fire.

Shit.

Ben's eyes flash open, no longer bright green but an orange-gold that makes fear snag in your ribs like a fishing hook. His hand makes contact with your chest shoving you to the side, out of the way of the beam, but unfortunately through the solid rock wall.

You don't really know what happens next. The world goes black for a few minutes, not like when you die, but just black as everything burns around you when Ben explodes. You're not sure how long you're under, could be minutes, could be hours, all you know is that when you wake up everything hurts.

It's how you know that you didn't officially die. Whenever you woke up after death, it was different, you felt powerful, reborn, but right now you felt like a train ran over you. A headache throbs at your temples as you begin to come to, blinking your eyes against the darkness that doesn't go away. Your ears are ringing, filled with the screams of those who survived and the smell of burned flesh and blood surrounds you like a cloud.

A mountain of rubble and roofing covers you, leaving you in the darkness to get your bearings, but nothing feels broken.

At least the brick fireplace broke my fall. You think to yourself with a groan as you begin to push off the planks of wood and pieces of the roof that cover your body, so you can sit up. As soon as you do, your head spins and you fight the unpleasant urge to throw up.

Great. Might have a concussion.

You might be as strong as Ben, but your ability to die meant that you were just a little bit less equipped to handle a hit like that.

Ben. Worry and fear war in your heart as you look around the broken room that lays in tatters around you.

The house isn’t recognizable anymore. Singed carpet floats in tufts with ash around your face like a swarm of flies while fires burn in clumps all over the ruined room. Chunks of drywall and planks of blackened wood litter the floor and the back half of the house is gone, burned to a crisp in the blast from Ben.

What the fuck did they put in his chest? Ben had tried to describe it to you, tried to explain it, but standing here in the rubble you understood just how bad it was. The ruins in Mid-town you had seen the coverage of on the news, but it was a completely different thing to experience it in person.

People are going to think that he did this on purpose. That he's a bad person, that he's some kind of terrorist. The thought is immediately followed by the fear that Vought and the government would come to take him away. Your jaw tightens. I'd like to see them try.

The bodies of Tommy and Tessa are burned beyond recognition, still holding hands, but now are just blacked lumps of flesh and bone that lay where they tried to make their final stand. But you feel no remorse.

It’s what we came here to do, to make them pay. You bite the inside of your cheek listening to the screams of those who survived. I just didn't think that so many others would get hurt.

You continue to look around the room, worry rising in your chest as you think of Ben and remember the look on his face. He had been scared of what was about to happen even if he didn’t want to admit it. He lost control. In the past when he lost control the worst thing he could do was rip someone in half or smash their face into a pulp, but now if Ben ever lost control he'd level a building.

I see a lot of yoga in his future. Or maybe anger management classes.

Although the thought makes you smile, as soon as you see Ben everything else fades from your mind. Ben is on his knees in the center of the room, head slumped forward on his chest, hands laying limply by his sides, as he takes in shaky breaths. You could hear the frantic pound of his heart, beating hard against his rib cage as if begging to be released. Seeing him like that almost sends you into overdrive. You’d never seen him look so defeated, so small, so tired, so… lost.

“Ben?” You fall to your knees next to him, reaching out to touch his face, to bring his attention to you.

His body tenses as you do so, eyes narrowing when he meets yours like he doesn’t know you. His eyes miles away.

But where?

“Hey, it’s me.” You say gently, cupping his face with your hands to rub your thumbs across his cheeks while fear grips your heart as you try to bring him back to you. “It’s me, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Ben inhales sharply as if suddenly remembering, the look in his eyes clearing for a moment, rising through the fog. "Y/n?" He whispers.

"Yeah. I'm here." You repeat, smiling at him even though the urge to cry builds in the back of your throat. It broke your heart to see him like this. You push his hair back from his face, brushing the ash from the mahogany strands.

 “Are you okay? Did I-“ Worry etches itself across his handsome face.

“I’m fine. Shhh.” You soothe, pulling him against you so your can rub his back softly and lock him in your embrace. But the truth was you were afraid. You didn’t understand what happened and couldn’t explain the look in his eyes when he went under, when he started to lose himself in his newfound powers. Ben crumbles into you, leaning his head against your shoulder as if needing it to strengthen him.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You weren’t sure the effects the blast had on him, just that he seemed unsure as to how the hell he did it.

 Where did he go in those moments?

“The twins?” Ben mumbles.

“They’re dead.” You could hear the approaching ambulances and police cars, hear the anxious chatter of the survivors outside.

We’ve got to get out of here.

“Come on. Let’s go.” You say softly rising to your feet and helping him up. Ben stumbles a step, shaking his head like he can’t catch his bearings and the worry comes roaring back. You catch him and tilt his body so he can lean on you. “Ben are you okay?” Your fingers dance against the sides of his face trying to bring his focus back to you, because you were afraid he might lose himself to whatever the hell happened before.

“I will be in a minute.” Ben takes in a shaky breath, leaning on your shoulder. "I don't know what happened."

"It's okay." His shield rises telekinetically from the rubble and into your outstretched hand that glows a brilliant purple in the dusty light. Smoke billows up from the room around you obscuring the sunlight that filters through the ruined front of the house, but you can still see the front drive already becoming swarmed with people and news crews.

Because that's exactly what Rosemary needs to see, me and Ben on the 5'oclock news. Fuck.

"Come on." You lead him back the way you can, toting his shield in your free hand, down the stairs.

When you spot Butcher, Ben straightens finally catching his bearings and takes the shield from you. Butcher looks from Ben to you, eyebrows raised.

"Sorted?"

"Yeah." Ben frowns.

You could tell that he was still a little shaky, but you knew he wasn't going to admit that to anyone, especially not to Butcher. Your gaze falls on the man from before laying on the ground, the man that Butcher had told Ben to leave.

Why did he want Ben to spare his life if Butcher was only going to beat him down?

But just as you take a step towards the man to check him for injuries, a long shadow falls on the floor at your feet.

Your eyes jolt upwards and focus on Homelander. The smell of hairspray, hair dye, and cheap cologne waft through the air at Homelander's appearance.  He's shorter than you expected him to be, not overtly muscular, but he didn't need to be. Supes with superstrength didn't need to look like body builders, and you suspected that the only reason why Homelander even had any kind of muscle was for his image as America's Hero. Then again, you never complained about Ben's muscular physique.

I don’t think anybody should complain about that and- Nope. Nope. Not thinking about that right now.

But as you stare at him there's something wrong, something that you can't place, something that tugs at the back of your mind when you look at him, almost as if you've forgotten something important.

Seeing him in person is surreal. You'd only ever seen him on the news or on billboards or on those stupid energy drinks that were sold at the bodega on the corner where you get coffee filters sometimes, but the look in his eyes is the same. It's cold, unfeeling, and reminds you of those ridiculous shark documentaries that Rosemary is obsessed with. The only time she could watch shark week was after Lou went to bed. She said that watching it made her feel better about her job and you didn't complain.

Homelander looks around the room forcing a smile, a predatory glare in his eyes.

"William Butcher and Soldier Boy. Of course you are behind this. It really is all about me." Homelander's smile widens.

Narcissistic much? This guy's like a walking red flag.

He takes a step closer to the three of you, and Ben steps in front of you to shield you from Homelander's view. Homelander clocks the movement, but then tsks his finger at Butcher.

"William we made a deal to fight to the death, you and me." Homelander's eyes begin to glow. "You cheated, deals off."

The red flash of the laser-vision illuminates Ben's face in sharp contrast as the beam hits Butcher full in the chest propelling him back into the wall. His body falls to the ground and lies still.

Well. That's not good.

Honestly you didn't like Butcher all that much, but you couldn't help but feel a little bit bad.

You glance up from Butcher's body to gaze at Homelander again. Fighting him hadn't been on the agenda today, but it was starting to look that way. You knew what his powers were, knew that Vought probably told him his entire life that he was a god and that no one could compare to him. And you knew that the man standing next to you hadn't changed enough to walk away from the fight, no matter how bad his odds were.

And deep down you knew that you weren't going to let Ben take that beating, which of course meant that you were going to fight Homelander. Not that you were afraid of him. One look at him might have sent everyone else heading for the hills, but he didn't intimidate you.

"I watched all your movies, hundreds of times. You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me." The look on Homelander's face is one of respect almost wonder.

And you can imagine a smaller version of Homelander being fed all the same propaganda that Ben and you were fed all those years ago, imagine Homelander growing up hearing that he was stronger, greater, faster than Soldier Boy, and imagine Vogelbaum working hard to make sure to mold Homelander into the hero that America wanted. Not to mention all the shit he probably heard when he was with Stormfront. You were very happy that you didn't have to see her again, though now you had a fun story to tell Ben about one of his exes.

“Buddy you’re wearing a cape, do you think you look strong?” Ben frowns at Homelander.

“It is pretty stupid.” You agree examining Homelander’s supe suit. “Honestly I thought you had it bad with that dorky looking helmet-“ You glance at Ben out of the corner of your eye.

“Really? You’re gonna do this now?” Ben glowers turning his attention to you.

“I’m just being honest it was pretty bad and I’m glad you decided not to wear it today. But his cape is definitely worse.”

“Do you want me to bring up that ridiculous hood you had?”

“You can, but I won’t believe you, because that hood was fabulous and I looked fantastic in it.”

Homelander clears his throat to catch your attention. “Um hello?”

“Hi.” You force a smile. “Oh sorry did we interrupt your little monologue?”

Homelander's gaze turns icy as you continue. “Because we can take this from the top. What was the line again? Something about power or watching his films? I was only half listening. Did you want me to record it for you so you can post it on your socials?”

“What the f-“ Homelander begins to say, but you interrupt him.

“I mean. That is why you practiced it in the mirror for so long right? And why you did your hair and makeup?" You scrunch up your nose. "I'd skip that last mist of hairspray if I were you. You want it to look smooth, not look like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.”

You could tell that Ben was trying to maintain his composure, but his mouth was twitching in a smile. “Oh wait does your suit have a body cam? I guess that makes things easier, because it probably doesn't have pockets. Not to mention if you dropped your phone while you were flying around-"

"Who the fuck are you?" Homelander spits interrupting you.

"No one important."

“Is he really what passes for a hero these days?” Ben cocks an eyebrow. “He’s just a cheap fucking knock off of me.”

“No.” Homelander snarls, eyes beginning to glow bright red. “I’m the upgrade.”

The laser cuts through the air in slow motion, but you’re already moving.

"Ben!" His name rips from your throat as you lunge forward and shove him as hard as you can out of the way of the beam. You feel the laser tear through your body, the force throwing you backward through one of the wood paneled walls and then the darkness swallows you whole.

If someone were to ask you what it was like to die, you wouldn’t know how to answer. To exist in those thirteen seconds sometimes feels like a dream, like you're floating, but it's always silent. And the silence scares you. How quickly it comes to drag you under and how it seems to replace everything you know or remember about the real world until you come back to life. You understood why Ben didn't like being alone, because you didn't either. It reminded you too much of those moments you were gone, wishing for it to stop. There was never a bright light, there was only the darkness and the silence that fell when your heart stopped beating.

When you take your first breath in thirteen seconds it's full of dust and ash, swirling into your mouth as you inhale sharply to jumpstart your lungs. But at the same time everything is different. The colors in the room are brighter, the sounds more acute, the smells just a fraction stronger, and you feel different. Power floods through your limbs, swirling through flesh and bone, pouring through your veins, electrifying through each nerve ending and setting you on fire, more than any other power ever has. You'd never felt power like this before. Even with Countess and the others that had killed you, no other power you'd ever gotten had felt this strong.

You stand up from the rubble you landed in, covered in a layer of dust and blood. The hole in your new outfit where the laser struck is just under your left breast, the mark left behind already a pink scar. And you knew that Ben would probably kill you for it later, for taking the laser for him, but you didn't care.

Homelander is floating in the center of the room, holding Ben by the throat, smiling cruelly at him.

"Hey asshole." You snarl, spitting out a glob of blood onto the ruined carpet. "We're not done."

Homelander turns his head towards you amused, while Ben grabs at the front of his suit, trying to get his attention, but Homelander is focused on you.

"So that's it? That's your big trick? Laser vision? Forgive me for not cowering in fear." Your hands clench into fists at your sides.

He eyes you for a moment. "You're Indigo aren't you?"

"I used to be. Now I'm just disappointed. I expected more from Vought's big hero, but now I see that you're just another asshole who thinks he's a god." Your eyes drift to Ben for a moment, worry clawing at your heart when you meet his gaze. "So drop him. Before I drop you."

"You’re very confident for someone who was dead a few seconds ago. I don't really see how that ability is going to help you-"

"Before I didn’t want to kill you."

"And you think you can?" He laughs.

"No." You smirk. "I know I can."

"Who do you think you’re talking to?"

"I’m not talking to much." Your eyes narrow. "But I'll be nice, and I'll give you a chance to leave. To tuck your tail between your fucking legs and fly away. We didn't come here for you and you and I don't have to do this."

"And if I don't leave?"

"Then I'll kill you."

"I'd like to see you try." Homelander throws Ben as hard as he can through the brick fireplace, causing rock and mortar to rain down on top of him, but Homelander's eyes don't leave yours. “Well why don’t you give me your best sho-“

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence, your body ploughs into his tackling him through the solid outer wall and onto the back lawn.

Truthfully you hadn’t meant to go through the wall, you’d only meant to pin him to it, but flying was proving just a little more difficult than you expected. Your hand closes on Homelander’s wrist bringing him down against the ground so hard that the earth quakes, before you throw him as far away from you as you can.

His body spins awkwardly in the air, before he ploughs into one of the thick oak trees head on, at the edge of the backyard. The loud snap of the tree compensating for Homelander’s body fills the air.

He stumbles to his feet, eyes narrowed in pure hatred, lip curled back in a snarl, and his blonde hair flopping forward into his face.

“You chose wrong.” You spit, rolling your shoulders, preparing for what came next.

Homelander lets out a roar and flies towards you, arms outstretched for you, but you’re ready for him.

You catch his fist before it lands against your face and tighten your other hand around his throat. Your bodies are floating two feet off the ground, but it doesn’t faze you.

When Homelander’s gaze meets yours you see just a flicker of fear, a spark, quickly masked by his shock. He struggles to pull away to push you away with his free hand, but all you do is tighten your grip.

 "You've never felt real pain before have you?" You force your face into a sympathetic frown, before your eyes harden. "Allow me to enlighten you."  You throw him to the ground again, watching his body spin and screech against the grass and dirt.

 Given the screams and smell of blood in the air, any witnesses from the massacre inside were at the front of the house waiting for the police, leaving you and Homelander on the backside of the house alone.

Worry for Ben rose in your chest like the peak of a wave, you hadn't seen him since Homelander threw him through the fireplace, but you funnel that worry into all encompassing rage.

"They told you that you were a god right? That you were the most powerful supe that ever lived. They were wrong. There's only one supe more powerful than you, and you just fucking pissed her off." You shout beginning to float towards him.

Homelander growls rising to his feet, eyes glowing bright red as he fires a laser at you, but you’re ready.

Your own beam catches his mid air between you, the high pitched sizzle and smell of ozone floats across your face, but you don't back down. If anything, it just makes you more angry.

And then something slams into you from the side, breaking the connection between your beam and Homelander's.

"What-" You shout, looking up at the body above yours, preparing to blast them off, but you realize it's Ben. "Ben what-"

"Stay here." He growls, eyes black. Ben looks pissed, whether it’s because you pushed Ben out of the way before or if it’s because he’s annoyed that Homelander punched him you’re not sure.

"What?" You look beyond him, to see Hughie and Butcher tackle Homelander to the ground.

They're going to try to turn him human.

"I can hold him down-" You say. “Let me help.”

"No." Ben snarls as he stalks towards Homelander, his chest beginning to glow.

“Ben-“

“Stay the fuck there.” Ben shouts still looking at Homelander.

Your eyes flit to the leader of the Seven. Watching him struggle against Hughie and Butcher, who yell at one another, but you don’t hear them. You wait for the remorse to crash over you, the guilt, but it never comes.

I gave him a choice. He could have run. He didn’t. He chose this.

And just when you think it’s all over, Homelander breaks away from them, surging up into the air to freedom. You feel your feet leave the ground to follow him, someone’s hand tightens on your ankle and drags you back down to earth.

“No.” Ben’s voice is more of a growl than anything else.

He’s angry, that much you can tell from the look on his face and from the way his eyes have hardened into two solid chunks of emerald as he locks eyes with you.

But why? Angry because Homelander got away or angry because I pushed him out of the way?

“Ben I can get him. Let me go.” You kick your ankle but Ben holds on.

“No.” Ben snarls. “You’re not about to go after that sick fuck by yourself.”

“Ben-“

“No. If I have to chain you to the ground I will.” Ben pulls you down further and releases your ankle to  fasten his hand around you waist to hold you tighter against the ground. “You’re not going after him.”

“Fine.” You snap pulling yourself from his grasp, your own temper flaring.

You hated when Ben did that, when he acted like you weren’t just as capable as him of doing this. It reminded you of your childhood, when you were treated like you were made of glass, a pretty doll that was made to be looked at but never touched.

And you knew it came from Ben’s want to protect you, knew that it came from his fear of losing you, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

You didn’t pout when Ben went out to face someone, didn’t try to act like he couldn’t do it.

“I know that maybe I’m a little behind but… WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?” Hughie shouts. “You have laser vision and you can fly and you can move things with your mind!?” He looks frantically from you to Ben.

You don’t answer, your eyes are still on Ben who looks ready to throw Butcher’s car into space. You could practically see the waves of anger rolling off of him like a comic strip.

“You didn’t before, did you?” Butcher’s eyes trace your body as things begin to click into place. “You didn’t before he killed you.”

“Hold on.” Hughie holds up his hand. “Are you telling me that you die and you come back to life WITH THE POWERS OF THE SUPE THAT KILLED YOU?”

“It wasn’t in the files.” Butcher’s eyes still haven’t left you. “Vought didn’t know did they?”

You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, don’t like the glimmer in his eyes as if you’d just solved all his problems. It was the exact look that was in the eyes of the scientists the day you took the serum for the first time. To them that’s all Ben and you were, lab rats, people who were stupid enough to listen to the wild ideas of glory and a better world they spouted.

“We should go.” You murmur, listening to the sounds of the ambulances and the police coming up the driveway. “It’s about to be a circus here and I'd rather not make my big social media debut covered in rubble and blood."

Ben’s mouth is clamped together, green eyes blazing at your mention of blood. You knew that he was focused on the bloody hole left behind in the corset where Homelander's laser had ripped through your body.

Another scar, another fun story to tell my daughter when I see her… great.

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

The car ride to Legend’s is dead silent. Ben doesn’t look at you, doesn’t try to hold your hand, and doesn’t try to touch you in any way. Instead his hands are curled into fists, sitting on the tops of his thighs while his anger heats the inside of the car like a furnace. You knew it was only a matter until he exploded, but now you had bigger things on your mind.

You had just exposed yourself to Homelander, showed your face to him, not to mention you admitted to being Indigo. It would be easy for him to find your real name in the Vought archives find your file and the same name that linked you to Rosemary. She’d gone back to her maiden name when her husband died, which meant the two of you had the same last name and it wouldn’t be difficult for Homelander to find her.

Which meant you needed to get to her first.

You had tried to text her, tried to tell her to have a bag ready and that you were going to pick her up, but she was refusing to do so and you didn’t exactly want to text “Homelander is a fucking psychopath and he’s going to come after you” to her phone. Plus you couldn’t exactly call her, not in this cramped car.

Legend is waiting on the front porch of his country home when Butcher pulls his car into the end of the long driveway, somewhere that you’d been to many times in the past. He's smoking a joint and scrolling through his phone, wearing the same outfit you had seen him in a few days ago.

"Kitten!" He smiles wide at you when he sees you and pulls you into a hug. “I was worried when I heard about that mess with Countess. You never called.” Legend frowns at you, blowing out a lungful of smoke. "Guess you guys had a talk."

"Something like that." You frown. "It got complicated really fast."

“I told you so.” His eyes shift to where Ben is glowering a foot behind you. "I see he found you. I didn't tell him-"

"I know you didn't. Thank you for keeping your promise." You smile tightly, squeezing Legend's hand. He really was a good friend. One of the oldest ones you had besides Ben.

"Figured if I did, you'd keep him from ripping my head off."

“Haven’t decided if I’m not going to yet.” Ben snarls and Legend's eyes widen in fear.

But you knew that he was just redirecting his anger. Ben was angry because you put yourself in harms way to protect him and the sooner you had it out, the sooner you could go get Rosemary and Lou.

"Ben we both know that you're not mad at Legend, you're mad at me. So you might as well spit it out, because we've got bigger problems than your hissy fit-" You begin to say. You were sick of him pouting, refusing to look at you, refusing to touch you.

"What the FUCK were you thinking?!" Ben roars towering over you, eyes flashing. "Getting between me and him like that!"

Legend backs away, afraid that he's going to get caught in the cross-fire.

"Calm down." You sigh, gritting your teeth together. You were trying your best not to lose it either, because the last thing this situation needed was you losing control.

"DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN." Ben's hands are clenched tightly into fists, his suit beginning to glow bright.

"You're going to have to calm down or you're going to blast me to kingdom come!" You snap back.

Ben grits his teeth together and closes his eyes tightly while his chest begins to fade back to normal and when it does, he opens his eyes to glare at you. "Why did you do that? I had him handled-"

"You didn't."

"Yes I did. You didn't give me a chance to-"

"No what I did was I didn't give that psychopath a chance to punch a hole through your chest with his fucking laser vision." You poke him in the chest. "Of the two of us, I have a greater chance of surviving that!”

By then Butcher and Hughie had moved to give the two of you a wide berth, standing where Legend was watching the two of you looking bored. They were probably hoping that you didn’t cut one of them in half with your new powers.

"Are they always like this?" You hear Butcher ask Legend from where they stand a safe distance away.

"Pretty much." Legend answers, blowing out a puff of the fowl smelling smoke.

"Do you ever get used to it?" Hughie mutters.

"Nope."

“Is there an off button?” Butcher sighs.

“Nope.” Legend puffs his joint.

"You don't know that!" Ben spits back at you. "I could have!"

"I wasn't willing to take that chance damnit!"

How can I make him understand this? How can he finally understand what it would be like for me to lose him all over again, just when I got him back?

"Do you really think that I'm willing to play Russian Roulette with your life?" Ben snarls, grabbing you by the shoulders so tightly you're sure they'll be bruises but all you can do is look into his quickly darkening eyes. "Do you have any idea what it did to me to see you die AGAIN? To see him TOUCH YOU? To know that he HURT you?"

"We've already had this conversation Ben-"

"And we're going to fucking have it again!" His grip tightens. "I told you to stay behind me!"

The last time he'd touched you like this was the night of the premiere, when he told you that he didn't care about you, that he could never love you. The memory of that night lodges itself in the back of your throat, but you keep it down.

"And I told you that I wasn't going to do that!"

"Damn it y/n you can't-"

You pull yourself away from him. "No Ben. You can't tell me what to do. You don't get to control me. People have tried to control me all my damn life and when I first came with you I thought I was giving that up. But no, I just moved on and Vought took over. When I decided to live my own life, to stop being a supe, I was free! Finally! After forty years of bullshit I was finally free!"

Ben’s jaw is so tightly locked together you think you hear the grinding of his teeth. “So what are you saying? Are you saying that when you’re with me you feel trapped? Like I’m holding you fucking hostage?!”

“No.” You exhale heavily. "I understand that you love me. I understand that you want to protect me. But you need to understand that I love you too. That just as you're willing to lay down your life for me, I am willing to lay down my life for you. And if you want this to work between us, you need to understand that you don't control me. You're not my dad or my owner, you're the man I love. And until you realize that I am just as capable of protecting you as you are protecting me-"

"I know that." Ben seethes.

"What?"

"Do you really think that I don't see how strong you are?” You watch something flash in his eyes that isn't anger, the vulnerable look is back for a fleeting moment and it rocks you to your core. "I don’t want to control you! I’m not trying to. Have you thought that maybe after all this time I just wanted you to need me like I need you?"

His confession makes your heart stop. Does he really think that I don’t need him? That after all these years there’s no one else that I’ve needed more in my entire life?

“Ben.” You sigh while stretching out your hand to lay against his arm, but he flinches away. “ I do need you. You have no idea how much I need you, no idea what it did to me when I lost you even after everything that happened. I just don’t want you to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“I don’t treat you like you’re-“ He begins to say.

“Yes. You do. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect me, but you have to understand that I want to protect you too.”

He huffs out a breath, shoulders tensed, arms crossed over his muscular chest. “I do understand that. I just hate it when you do that, that you push me out of the way. I hate when you get hurt.”

“And I hate when you get hurt." You bite the inside of your cheek. "You say that you were angry that Homelander hurt me, but did you stop to consider what it did to me to see him try to hurt you? Do you know what it did to me to see him touch you?”

Ben stands there for a minute glaring down at you, before his gaze begins to soften. “No.” He grumbles.

“Exactly.”

You both stand there for a minute eyeing one another, daring the other to break the silence.

This is ridiculous.

Finally Ben, sighs out a breath and jerks you forward against his chest. The hug would be bone crushing for anyone else, but not to you.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He mutters into the top of your head, while his body curves around yours.

“I love you too asshole.” You huff, hugging him back just as tight.

“See they always work it out.” Legend shrugs at Butcher. “Takes them a while to get there. They made my job so much harder in the 70’s. Though I will say it’s a relief that they’re finally admitting they love each other. Way too much sexual tension before, gave me anxiety.”

Ben pulls back to look at your face with another loud sigh. He still looks a little angry, but not angry enough to start shouting again. His thumb strokes against your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You nod once leaning into his touch. “Are you?” You brush back some of his dark hair out of his face, looking for bruises but you don’t see any.

“Yeah.” He nods.

“If the two of you are done, we have bigger things to worry about-“ Butcher begins to say.

“We are and we do.” You interrupt looking away from Ben to stare at Butcher. “I need to borrow your car.”

“Why?”

“I need to go back to the city.”

“What?” Ben sputters releasing you from his grasp.

“And I think it would be better if I went alone-“ You continue slowly.

Honestly you did think that it would be better if you went alone, but you didn’t want to. You wanted Ben to come with you, the problem was Rosemary.

“Like hell I’m letting you go alone with that son of a  bitch flying around!” Ben shouts, temper flaring again.

“Which is why I have to go.” You try to say it diplomatically, try to have him understand without having to explain it. But there’s really no way around it, around any of this.

“No.”

“Ben please c-"

“Don’t tell me to calm down again! I’m not being crazy. You’re not going after him!” His eyes blaze a brilliant green, as he crosses his hands over his chest.

“Ben-“

“Why can’t you listen to me for once?”

“BEN!” You shout, grabbing his face and holding his cheeks between your palms to catch his attention.

“What?” Ben’s eyes lock with yours.

“I’m not going to the city to go after Homelander.”

He pauses confused. “Then why are you-“

And you just can’t take it anymore. You can’t hold it in any longer, can’t think of a way to tell him without just ripping the bandaid off. Your eyes meet his, apologetic, determined, and just a little bit fearful.

“I’m going back into the city to get our daughter.”

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

A/N: I know I know, it's been a while and honestly I didn't mean to get hit by writer's block this bad 😂😭

But it kinda works out, because what better way to celebrate Father's Day than to tell Soldier Boy that he's a dad?

As always thank you so much for reading! There are big things coming! And thank so much for the love and support! If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm @lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21 @boywivlove @mrsjenniferwinchester @vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake @thesilmarillionblog @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @libby99hb @peachhiz @tinydancer40

[bangaveragewhitewine]

maybe it ain't so bad

Bouncer!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader (established relationship) - Part of Happy Hours

Your boyfriend doesn’t like Christmas much. Inside his huge soft heart, he carries the memories of Christmases good and bad. After this year, the first Christmas you will actually get to spend together, he might feel a little warmer towards the Holidays…

Word Count 4.4k

Contents / Warnings | 18+ | Eddie & Reader are in their mid/late twenties | Loss of a parent, mention of child neglect and abuse | No explicit sex, nonetheless this is an 18+ fic - making out on the sofa, brief choking mention, Eddie’s love of hickies, being horny and in love, mentions of sex and post-sex softness, ‘slut’ as a term of endearment | No physical descriptions of reader; the image used in the header is not indicative of Bartender Reader in this series

Note I missed our metalhead bouncer boyfriend. I tried and tried not to make this sad or angsty. A quick moment to say thank you for all the love over the last sixish months while I have been writing and sharing my work. It’s a joy, truly! Have a cosy holiday season, sweet angels!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Christmas, 1992 

Eddie Munson didn’t care for Christmas.

A long time had passed since the last Christmas with his Mom, but each year the scabbed-over wound inside him tore and stung and bled just a little more around the Holidays. 

It might be more accurate to say then that Eddie Munson did not let himself care for Christmas. It hurt him to care about it, to remember the good ones and the bad ones with his mother, so he tried to just not care. 

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the coloured string lights wound around the shitty plastic tree, glinting against baubles that had seen better days. He could feel her hands holding his much smaller ones as they danced together to Christmas records, the way she held him safe and steady to place the star on top of the tree. The shininess of it all had pulled his attention from her pilled and threadbare sweaters and the bruise-like bags beneath her eyes. The festive earworms drowned out her tearful phone calls to her parents for some extra cash to make sure Eddie would have a present from Santa beneath the tree this year, and her promises that her no-good-husband would see a penny of it.

As he watches you hanging shiny-and-new decorations on the branches of the small fir in the corner of your shared living room, humming to music only you could hear, he could not help but think of her. It hurt, but the smile that spread across your face when you caught him watching soothed his soul just a little bit.

“Hi, handsome.” 

Your voice and that cosy greeting, the eye-sparkling smile you wear when he comes home to you, feels like stepping into a warm bath every single time. It’s a hug before you even open your arms to him.

You watch him unwind his scarf and shake out his frosted curls once his jacket has been hung on its peg. His boots are slipped off and left to pick up later. 

“How’d it go?”

Eddie stares at the shiny ornament hanging between your fingers on gold thread, lost somewhere in his head or hypnotised by the way it caught the light until you call his name again. 

“Sorry, yeah. Went good. You’ve been busy…”

While Eddie was teaching his last guitar lesson before the Holidays, you had draped the tree with shiny bright lights and made a start on the baubles, hanging them extra-slowly in the hope that your boyfriend might want to help when he got home. Neither of you had work tonight, scheduled off synchronously as a little reward for working Christmas Eve.

“You wanna help?” you ask, a glimmer of hope in your eyes, even as you readied yourself for rejection.

You knew his feelings about Christmas - not just his capitalist hellscape rant that came out whenever someone asked if he was looking forward to the holidays, but you knew the deep emotional pain he carried as another year passed without her. Every year the taste of her cinnamon-spiced sugar cookies and the scent of her perfume, that special Mom Smell, faded more in his memories.

For the first Christmas you would actually spend together as a couple, you wanted it to be special and cosy. You wanted Eddie to feel comfortable and safe, not like a prisoner bound in tinsel as you forced him to watch Miracle on 34th Street or How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (though he did have a soft spot for the green guy). A lazy few days cocooned in your apartment, a nice no-fuss dinner and quality time together. It helped too that you could pick up the Christmas Eve shift in the bar instead of travelling out of the state to sit at home with your families and miss each other, count the days until you hopped back on the plane to O’Hare, and pray that Eddie would drive safe on the icy roads around Hawkins. 

The decorations had been a compromise; Eddie never usually bothered and you liked to spend at least half a day making your home look like a festive explosion. A deal had been made on a small tree with a few lights.

You looked at that tree now, its small and slightly wonky stature had charmed you. Eddie’s staring at it too and you can see a glimpse of the broken boy Eddie once was; it makes your heart hurt. 

“Is it too much? I can stop…” Your voice is quiet.

Eddie shakes his head and plasters on a smile for you that makes your chest ache, before rounding the sofa on socked feet to press a kiss to your head and squeeze you around the middle.

His nose is cold from being outside. That fresh scent of bright winter air clings to him and slowly melts away inside the warm flat you share. 

“Looks great.” Eddie picks up a random red bauble. “Where does this one go?”

“Wherever you want it to go. Just look for the bare spots.” 

You tamp down any fizzing excitement that he’s taking an interest, then feel guilty that you are thinking of him like he’s a wild animal who is easily spooked. 

Eddie brings you back to reality, just like always.

“You gonna move it later when I’m not looking?” he asks, brows raising beneath his bangs as you loop your ornament on a branch. 

That ‘I know you too well for your cute lies, babe’ look he gave you made your cheeks feel warm. It was close to his ‘you’re pushin’ it and you’re being a brat on purpose’ look. That one was fun.

“Only if it’s too close to another red.”

He had seen you and Michelle in full-festive-flight when you decorated the bar every year; every year he braved the cold of the beer cellar or the back alley to stay well out of your way lest he be roped into a squabble on the placement of some stupid garland. 

Not fully convinced, Eddie zeroes in a bare spot (not too near to another red ball) and slips it over the branch with less practiced precision. It’s perfect.

You lean over to smack a kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek. “You’re a natural, Teddy.” 

His arm slips and winds around your waist, squeezing the squish of your hips before he presses his lips to your head. “Do I get a reward?” 

Eddie’s touch and the low timbre of his voice stoke the cosy glow in your body into something more fiery and exciting. His fingers skate along the waistband of your sweatpants, tracing up beneath your (his) hoodie. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

Two can play that game.

“For one little bauble? I’m not that easy, Munson.” 

It pains you to pull yourself away but the warmth and hunger in his gaze feeds your ego and the flame in your gut. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, I need you to show me.” His fingers reach out to grab the empty space between you. 

Your eyes roll as you crouch to pick up two more baubles.

“Gimme a kiss for every decoration I put on then?” Eddie suggested, “I’ll keep tally.”

A slow smile makes its way onto your face and you nod. “That could be arranged. Don’t half-ass it though, they’ll fall off if they’re not on properly.” Your eyes narrow in warning, “I’ll bite you instead of kiss you if you half-ass it.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, honey,” Eddie smirks and takes both baubles from you - one gold, one pink - and hangs them on his fingers, strategically dangling them right over his nipples. He gets the exact reaction he was hoping for - an eye-roll and that smile you do when you try not to laugh at his silliness. That smile that had made him fall for you.

“And you know my motto - full ass or no ass at all. No half-assin’ around here.” 

Before you can make a smart comment about his flat ass, Eddie takes his time to thoughtfully hang the ornaments in two bare spots and surveys his work with a quietly-pleased hum. You could imagine what he was like as a kid, bargaining for an extra cookie once the tree was decorated, or an extra bedtime story. You didn’t hang any more decorations in favour of watching him work for a few moments, the colourful glow of the lights on his pale skin. 

He catches you staring and softens, winks at you as he picks two more baubles up. One for you, one for him. 

After passing the gold string between your fingers, you press a bonus-kiss to Eddie’s lips before finishing off your first tree together. Neither of you acknowledges with words how special it is, but it’s there. You squabble playfully when you get in each other’s way or when Eddie slaps your ass while he’s reaching for the snowman ornament you have had since you were a kid. 

You had accumulated a little collection of retro Christmas decorations in thrift shops over the years - pretty vintage baubles and kitschy ornaments, a few random or weird tchotchkes. A purchase from last year - a glittery skull wearing a Santa hat - earned instant approval from Eddie and pride of place on the tree. That one had caught your eye a few months after you two had started dating.

When the box of ornaments runs out, you take a step back and pull Eddie’s arm to join you. 

“You like it?” Your voice is quiet and careful as your cheek rests against the softness his sweater.

“Pretty,” Eddie says, just as quiet. His arms wind around you and hold you against his chest, starting a slow rock from foot to foot.

“Can I give you something?” you ask, voice muffled against his chest.

Eddie’s brows shoot up, a flirty look in his eyes. “Oh? You can give me whatever you want, babydoll.”

That wolfish grin of his still made you feel tingly all over, even as you rolled your eyes at him.

“It’s for the tree. Cool it, Romeo.” 

You pay this kiss-tax to be freed from the cosiness of his arms and slip into the bedroom for just a second. It is enough time for Eddie to edit a few baubles like it’s second nature to him, swapping out colours that are too close to each other and filling gaps until you arrive with a box. He has forgotten that he used to watch his mother do the same thing while he was content with his oven-warm cookies and cold milk on the couch.

You pass the box to Eddie. “It’s not really a gift. It’s for both of us.”

“Is it lingerie?” His brows raise, hopefully suggestive, as he smooths a finger over the lovingly slapped-on bow. Lingerie has certainly proven itself to be quite the mutual gift over the last year. His mind wanders to that last deep purple set you bought, and he can feel himself starting to drool.

“Eddie, just open it. You’re going to be so disappointed, it’s lame…”

At the talk of lingerie, you are acutely aware that you are currently dressed in sweats and one of his hoodies. In a funny sort of way, you know that the cosy combo does it for Eddie as much as lace and satin. The every-horny-for-your-boyfriend part of your brain considers wrapping yourself up in a big red bow for him. He would like that far too much.

He feigns coolness as he pulls the lid off and you push your unhinged thoughts away.

Inside, wrapped in crinkly red tissue paper, are two things - a matte black bauble with your initials curling together in shiny red calligraphy. Beside it, a small silver frame ornament with a candid snap of Eddie and you from Thanksgiving just passed, the one you spent in Hawkins with Wayne and his girlfriend. You’re perched on his lap, arms looped around his neck, smiling and very clearly obsessed with each other.

“I just thought we could... We could start our own traditions. Little things.” You speak into the quietness of the room as Eddie stares into the box. You murmur to yourself when he doesn’t answer, “You didn’t even want a tree, it’s so stupid.”

“Stop that.” Eddie’s frown is serious. “My girlfriend isn’t stupid. How dare you.” 

“But you don’t even like Christmas… It’s kinda stu-”

“Don’t. It’s fuckin’ thoughtful as fuck.” Eddie smiles softly at the ornaments, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. “You’re too cute, baby.” 

Pressing a smiling kiss to your lips, Eddie could feel himself beginning to soften. Maybe this Christmas thing would not be so bad this year…

Christmas with Wayne was always low-key - some years his Uncle took a shift at the plant and they exchanged thoughtfully practical presents like new guitar strings or picks, a book or an album, novelty mugs and new baseball caps or shirts. 

Wayne was not so fond of Christmas either. It reminded him of his heavy-handed drunk of a father, and the anxiety-inducing unanswered phone calls to his idiot brother’s house after Elizabeth died. It reminded him of finding his nephew alone in a cold house on Christmas Day, without a tree or dinner when Al forgot to come home. The kid didn’t have a single present to open from Santa. 

When Eddie moved to the trailer with him, too wise to the big bad world to be so easily distracted by shiny things, Wayne made sure there was a present for Eddie every single year, a meal and some company - even if the kid didn’t want it, even if Eddie screamed and threw a fit until he sobbed himself silent because he was just a little boy who missed his Mama…

Now, in the cocoon of your home together, Eddie's smile brims with child-like innocence, touched by the weight of wanting to start your own traditions together. You knew you were it for each other, but the little reminder of how much you meant it makes him glow.

He puts the box down and cups your face, pressing kisses everywhere he can reach. “God, I’m so in love with you,” he growls like a happy demon, making you laugh. 

Contently trapped against his body, soft and lean in all the right places, you release the breath you had been holding as Eddie studies the contents of the gift box again. 

“Look at these! I need this picture for my wallet. I need like, six copies,” he murmurs, “Have you ever seen a hotter couple?” Eddie brushes his thumb over the velvety loop of ribbon to hang it on the tree. “We need this for our grandkids, baby.” 

“Laurel took it. I’ll get you another copy.” Your face hurts from smiling as he kisses your cheek again. Wayne’s girlfriend was fond of you both, particularly Eddie.

“And this? Fuckin’ gothic as hell, I love it.” He strokes the intertwined initials before putting the box down to hug you just a shade off too tight. Nuzzling your noses together, he asks, ���Where are we going to hang ‘em?”

“Front and centre?” you suggested, shrugging a little. “We could move that one…”

“Creepy Santa?”

“Banish him to the back of the tree. Begone, creep.”

Eddie chokes a laugh and muttered, “I love when you say nerdy shit, baby,” before unwinding his arms from around you to banish Creepy Santa.

“My boyfriend is a huge nerd, I can’t help it,” you tease.

After some careful re-arranging, the two new additions take pride of place on your tree. Eddie’s tongue had stuck out in concentration as he balanced them both so carefully; you wished you had your camera to capture the moment, not that you would ever forget it. 

You are wrapped up in his arms again once you agree on the placement, nose to nose as Eddie tells you how much he loves you again. The little noise he makes when you slip your hands into his back pockets hits low in your gut.

“You saving those kisses you earned or cashing them in, hot stuff?” you ask, tracing his jaw with the tip of your nose.

Eddie’s teeth flash in the low light; the room is shadowy and warm in the glow of string lights and a dim lamp in the corner. 

“Oh, I’m saving them up, princess. Might claim one or two right now, but the rest are staying with me. Got a pocketful of IOUs for kisses.”

You press your face against his shoulder, smiling. “That’s so ominous, Teddy.” 

“Next time you’re mad at me? Kiss token. When you’re too busy with stupid chores to take my human right to be kissed seriously? Pucker the fuck up, pretty girl.” 

You love him all ways, but especially like this; playful and fun, flirting hard with you. Eddie’s using his voice in a way you know comes from years of playing DnD, and a stint in the drama club at school. He’s in-your-face-flirty, never subtle. This is the man who punched someone for you before you were even dating; there’s nothing subtle about Eddie Munson. 

No, there’s absolutely nothing subtle about Eddie as his hips press forward against yours and he directs your mouth to his, cashing in the first of those kisses. He smiles when you chase him for more. You pull him closer, your hands on that flat ass of his, and sigh when his tongue licks across your bottom lip. 

“That’s one,” he whispers. 

He cups your warm cheek, his pinky stroking your pulse point. He can feel your blood pump quicker when his breath breezes over your mouth, like the hard beating of butterfly wings that he feels too. Eddie likes how they have not gone away yet for either of you; over a year together and no sign of migration. He hopes they never leave.

“M’not counting. Just kiss me,” you whisper, a little whiney and needier than you had realised now that you are pressed up against him with nowhere else to be. 

Never one to leave you hanging (unless that was part of the game you were playing), Eddie kisses you like a man starved. He craves that gasping whimper only he can pull from your throat, the flutter of your lashes when your tongues slide together. 

You shiver when his chilly fingers slip up beneath your sweatshirt, palm flat to the small of your back - the part he likes to see arched when he takes you from behind. 

Your lips buzz where they press against Eddie’s; the electricity passing between you makes you glow like Christmas lights. 

Eddie can tell your brain is still working too hard and brings his hand to your throat; not squeezing but his touch just enough to bring you back to him. It makes you keen for him. A reminder of something you both want to try, but not before you work up to it and do a little more research.

“Okay?” he checks, kissing the corner of your mouth. He watches your eyes go dark, swallowed up by your pupils in the dim light. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, tilting your chin just enough to graze your lips against Eddie’s.

He blesses you with an all-too-brief kiss, knowing you need and want more. He backs up a few steps, taking you with him to sit on the couch. Sitting there, thighs spread and waiting, the way he looks up at you makes you clench. You take your place in his lap and spend a moment slowing it all down again, forehead to forehead with Eddie’s hands stroking your hips. 

“I love you,” he whispers, the words tickling your lips. 

“I know. Love you,” you murmur back, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. You thumb the tired crescent beneath it, skating along his smiling cheek. 

When he looks at you, it makes your heart beat double time; it’s not just the lust darkening his eyes, but pure adoration. 

You cross your arms to wriggle out of the hoodie, stripped down to a cotton cami and a bra that had been relegated to comfy-wear-only. Eddie thinks you are a goddess, and he is completely and utterly down-bad for you. The glow of the Christmas tree behind you makes you look like some sort of angel.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs. His hands run up your sides and down again, pulling you in closer onto his lap. You can feel him beneath the layers of sweatpants and denim. 

You lean into him again for another kiss, melting against Eddie’s warm chest when his hands begin to wander. He kisses you, his tongue twisted with yours as he takes his time. There is no rush this evening, no need to get off quick before your shift. 

Without the deadline, you draw it out - kissing slow, hands wandering to squeeze and tease, hips rolling and grinding together hot and hard beneath the layers. You give extra attention to that spot on Eddie’s neck that makes him go cross-eyed, dragging your teeth over the little bruise he can hide beneath his hair (but he won’t because he’s a menace and a bit of a slut). 

You pull off his black sweater - the one that hugs his arms and makes his waist look biteable - and kiss along the neckline of his tank top. Your fingers push at it and his silver chain when they get in the way of another bruise-making kiss that makes Eddie swear under his breath. 

“Baby, fuck.” 

He grunts quietly when you push your hips together again, attempting to relieve some of the building ache between your thighs. 

“Mm, that’s the plan,” you whisper, smiling against his collarbone when he chokes on his own throaty laugh. 

When you look up at him there is a dusty pink flush across his cheeks. You watch his jaw drop just a fraction when your breath casts over the damp kisses you left on his neck. When your thumb catches purposefully on his nipple there’s a quiet ‘fuck’ that tumbles from his tongue. 

As his ability to be patient wanes, Eddie catches your lips again and slowly guides you to lie back against the sofa cushions.

“You drive my crazy,” he whispers, brushing back the hair that had fallen around your face. He kisses you again, a whisper of teeth against your lip before your tongues meet in a filthy kiss.

You make space for him between your legs, lying chest to chest as close as possible without opening up your chest and letting him crawl inside, without physically melting together to become one. You lose yourself in each other, bathed in the warm light of the tree.

“You didn’t do a star. Or an angel, angel. Do you have one?” Eddie’s jeans and belt are undone around his hips as he sits with your feet in his lap, pulled back on to smoke out the window.

“I got distracted before I could put it up.” You wiggle your toes against his thigh, yelping when he runs his fingertips over the sole. You shove it beneath his leg, safe and warm away from his tickling fingers. “I have one. It’s in that bag.” 

Back in your (Eddie’s) hoodie and your underwear, you point him toward the busted-around-the-edges gift bag left forgotten by the stereo. “You wanna put it up?”

Eddie smells warm and smokey when he leans in for a kiss, a tinge of sweat lingering after making love to you. He still has his warm pink-cheeked glow and proudly wears the bruises from your sweet mouth, the red marks left by your fingernails on his back. 

Three pecks later, he stands with a groan more befitting a man of his uncle’s age and picks up the bag. You watch him stare at the contents, an unreadable look on his face as he lifts it out.

Your star is kitschy as hell, gold with little tinsel pom-poms on the pointy edges and definitely older than both of you. It’s not to everyone’s taste, a little tacky perhaps, but that was part of its charm. When it caught your magpie-eye in a junk shop a few weeks ago you couldn’t leave it behind. The had-seen-better-days tree-topper that had cost one whole dollar and seventy-five cents. It had glittered at you from the shelf and whispered ‘take me with you’. 

“If you hate it, we don’t have to put it up. We could put Creepy Santa up there instead,” you mused, “Our creepy angel…” 

“I don’t hate it. It’s so… wrong in the best way.” Eddie turns the star-shape in his hands. It reminds him of the chintzy and bright Christmas trees and flashy lights in Forest Hills. “Where the hell did you even get this thing?” 

“In the little thrift store near the camera shop. The one where you got me those earrings…?” 

“Mm, I know it. Maybe we can un-banish the Creep too. I guess it’s Christmas after all…” he reaches for the previously hidden Santa Claus figure with shifty eyes and rosy cheeks and replaces him near the top of the tree. “Yeesh, you’re a weird little man.” He flicks Santa before lifting the star up. “You wanna do the honours?”

From your cosy place on the couch, still pleasantly jelly-legged and tingly all over, you shake your head. “You do it. I’m comfy.” 

Eddie shrugs and reaches to balance the topper on the highest point of your perfectly wonky little tree, standing back with his hands on his hips before looking to you for approval. 

You give Eddie two thumbs up before opening your arms for him. You barely brace for impact when he pounces on you, head thrown back laughing. “Ed!” You squeak when he presses growling kisses to your neck. 

Resting on your chest, Eddie looks up at you with those shiny baby-cow eyes you adore. He is so soft beneath it all. He makes your heart beat double time. You brush back his hair and kiss his forehead as he gets comfortable. You wrap your legs around him so he cannot go anywhere, even if he wanted to. 

“Can we make this part of our tradition too?” he asks.

“Mm, I like how you think, pretty boy.”

Your fingers comb through his curls as he rests his weight on you. There is nowhere you would rather be.

Eddie cannot keep himself from staring at the tree in the quiet bliss of it all. He soaks it in; the thud of your heart beneath his ear, the way the tree-lights blur his eyes when he stares at them for too long. 

A small slow smile spreads onto his face. He decides then that maybe, just maybe, Christmas might not be so bad this year.

An easter egg for the babes who made it to the end - here's the picture from the header image (I love making photos like this for fics tbh). I like to think this is one of the pictures Eddie's Mom sent to Wayne and he still has it 🥲🥲🥲

Thank you for reading ❤️ reblogs, likes and comments are cherished and adored!

[okanra]

FEW FUN BEHIND-THE-SCENES STUFF I DID FOR “THE UNSPOKEN” WEBCOMIC SERIES (still ongoing, of course)

So I’m migrating some of the (public version of) pre-production stuff I did in 2021-2023 for THE UNSPOKEN webcomic (back when it still had the old name “Trunks and Goten in High School AU”) here, since X/Twitter apparently annihilated the old Moment feature for real. These are mostly research stuff, some warm up doodles and inspiring sountrack playlists I did before a chapter or a story got made. I usually do a lot of research offline before working on any creative project, that’s why sometimes it feels like there’s so many information gets jammed into one chapter: it was mostly to make do for all the time that I didn’t get to, or wouldn’t be able to work on the comics.

Will add in the chapters along side the information paper for clearer understanding ✌️

———————————————

1. The warm-up expression practice sheet (or doodles, in my case) of Son Goten and Trunks in my webcomic series (late 2022 or early 2023):

Since the idea in mind for these two in the webcomic was to be more “mature, human-like” than the original manga version to fit with the narrative I want to tell and aim at the older demographic, practices are needed :p

2. The Martial Arts techniques research information papers - Chapter 2 and 3 aka “The Spar” 1 & “The Spar” 2 (2021-2022):

A. Goten’s techniques:

B. Trunks’s techniques:

This research about martial arts techniques was actually very fun to do due to martial arts and cultural aspects are being two of the things I enjoy the most in life. That’s probably parts of the reasons why I went back to Dragon Ball in 2020: motorbikes, martial arts and mixed races culture.

Back then I did plan on sharing my research to everyone in the form of little fun art lessons, so there were interesting tweets like this or this. Later I decided to share this somewhere else more private (like my Patreon community) since I realized pre-production researches (or something akin to visual developments) are not that well-liked for most online viewers even though it’s a very much needed process in a creative project 🤔

This martial art concept is one of the actual main themes throughout the whole webcomic series, not really the (super duper gay) b-romance relationship between Son Goten and Trunks, yes I’m very sorryyyyyyy I like them too but I like worldbuilding more lmaoooo :p

3. The brief character design sheet and Chinese-influenced culture research information papers - Chapter 4: “The Iron Woman” and Chapter 5: “Her Resolution, His Origin” (mid-2022 until now and will be continued):

A. Character Design brief sheet:

B. Culture research stuff:

The hilarious thing about researching for these chapters are: Back when “The Iron Woman” was being made, the research limited at reading articles and some books about Chinese cultures, and watching documentaries on Youtube. But when “Her Resolution, His Origin” was being made, the research tuned into a real life trip to China, to take real life reference photos and listening to real legends and stories.

This research for “Her Resolution, His Origin” will be posted to Patreon later, of course ✌️

4. The Original Comic introduction and comeback announcements in mid-2022:

I must have eaten some edibles while drawing this because the boys look so good here. Goten looks so good, I even made him the profile picture for my Patreon account lmao.

5. Soundtrack playlists for inspirations (2021 - now): always the cherry on top. I listen to these playlists everytime I work on the series.

A. Duo playlist for chapters featuring both main characters: link

B. Character playlist for chapters focusing on single character, or anything related to that character: link

———————————————

All in all, posts like this are for people who like to see what’s beneath the surface when working on a creative project. I completely guarantee you, what you’ve seen on this blog are just the tips of the ice berg 🤫

Def not a PR, but my Patreon has lots of this lmao. Half joking half serious, there’s even a “non-posted” comic up there too and many other things. I’m just stating facts.

That aside, I’m just really happy to be able to work on this webcomic. THE UNSPOKEN webcomic series has always been a long-term indie project, not a daily content so I hope the readers who like and follow this series would stay tuned for more ✌️

———————————————

For easier reading, you can either follow the links that are included above, or just read this Tapas updated version.

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

PAIRING: Office! Ghost/Co-Worker! Ghost x F! Reader 

WARNINGS: that particular kind of tacit sexual tension you find in corporate Britain || sexy eye contact from across the bullpen || filthy language and smut || 18+ only ||

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 of 4 || Part 4

***

You don’t know what he looks like.  You don’t know the colour of his hair, or if he has freckles, or if his bottom lip is fuller than his top lip.

What you do know is that he has a broad, uneven nose and warm, callused hands.  And the reason you know these two very specific things about him is because his palms are on the backs of your thighs, holding you still and open for him, while his nose nudges into your clit from behind.

What is significantly less clear to you is how you got here.

Well.  The events leading up to this moment had gone like this:  You’d found yourself outside an office door in a lonely corridor, on the day and at the time Simon had told you to be there.  With clammy, shaking hands, you’d knocked hesitantly.  When you’d heard footsteps on the other side, you’d spooked and spun around to walk away.   

And then a low voice made your joints lock up and freeze mid-step.  “Goin’ somewhere?”

To be completely fair to Ghost, he hadn’t bothered with small talk.  He’d leaned against the door and gestured for you to come inside his office with only a tilt of his head.  When you had, he’d shut the door behind him, but continued to lean against it, while you’d performed a cursory investigation of the place.  

Ghost had pushed off the door and a couple of strides had brought him right in front of you.     

But then you’d looked up at him and…your mind had blanked.  You’d seen him before  from across the mess, or randomly on base talking to MacTavish or the big man with the mutton chops, and only ever from a distance.  Logically, you’d known that the man was huge.  Huge enough to crush your skull in his palms, but oh you’d been so very fucking wrong thinking that was the end of it.  

No, Simon was someone you’d call “big.”  Ghost was something else entirely.  

Looking up at Ghost had made you realise exactly how wrong you’d been—in that moment Ghost was a black hole, taking up not only the physical space in front of you, but also every single thought in your mind at that moment.   You stood no chance, had no choice but to be pulled into his orbit, and be crushed by the gravity of his presence.  Helpless and completely at his mercy.  It made your core ache.           

You didn’t know what Simon had told him, you hadn’t even known what to expect when you’d turned up at his door.  It’s like the daily, ridiculous amounts of masturbation since goddamn Simon had started to work with you and the reality that you couldn’t just fuck him had made you desperate to have any man’s touch on what felt like your perpetually heated skin.  It was embarrassing and downright dirty, but if it got you fucked by Ghost, you’d take the shame with the accompanying—presumably, hopefully—numerous orgasms.      

“Y’want this?” he’d whispered, and there was something in the way he’d said the words.  Apprehension, you’d thought, but had quickly dismissed the thought.  You didn’t know him enough to make that assessment, and the thought of Ghost being apprehensive about this was foreign to you. 

“I want this,” you’d repeated, your voice full of conviction.  

A glove covered hand had come up to your face, hovering over your cheek for a split second before you’d felt it on your skin.  Your eyes had closed involuntarily—it had been like nothing you’d imagined before—and you’d felt shivers of anticipation rain down your spine.

And that exact series of events had brought you here, to this very moment.  

In all honesty, being bent over on a desk in Ghost’s office being eaten out from behind felt like you’re not you anymore—like having an out of body experience, watching someone else live your life.  

The single lamp on his desk doesn’t even begin to illuminate the room properly, and just ends up making the whole place feel moody.  Although, it’s unclear to you exactly what kind of mood he’s going for.  

You’d tried to reach for him, but he’d shook his head at you and, without saying a single word, rearranged your body the way he wanted.  He rids you of your skirt, then your panties, and runs his hands carefully, gently over the skin he’s exposed until you’re left a panting, frustrated mess.  And then he gets on his knees for you and his mouth touches your flesh.  

He’s on his knees for you, and that thought alone blows your mind.  Ghost—the man, the myth, the stoic fucking legend that you’ve wanted for months—is on his knees for you.  And you’re…thinking about Simon.  Just for a split second, and it’s only a fleeting thought, but it’s as though Ghost knows that your attention is elsewhere because his hand comes up to smack the fullness of your ass, making you gasp.     

And just when you’re about to come, he stops.  His mouth moving away from your skin prompts a whine from you, and it makes him pause, then lean up to kiss your spine, whispering a quiet shhh against it.  It settles you for a second, but only a second, because he’s already plotting your ruination.  Ghost easily supports you, lifting one of your legs and setting your knee on the table.  It leaves you more exposed than before, and the thought induces a shudder.  

And for the second time in the evening, when you’re about to come, he stops.  And then again.  And then again, until you’re left begging and whining for him to continue, to stop, to do something, anything, but you’re denied every time.  

He’s not entirely cruel to you, though.  He helps you to come down from it each time with gentle touches and hushed, soothing murmurs—the intensity of almost reaching orgasm and its cruel denial—but the familiar ease with which he manipulates your body, raises a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach.  It’s not nerves or frustration…but it is something.  A feeling to be explored much, much later.

And it is during that much, much later, when he’s turned around to briefly grab you some water and you’re trying to catch your breath that your eyes settle on something strange—a folder addressed to Ghost.  Except.  It’s not addressed to Ghost.  It’s addressed to your newest work friend, the one you’re most definitely catching feelings for.  

Lt. Simon Riley.   

Your newest work friend, who’s just denied you an orgasm four times this evening, and the same one that you’re going to kill.

***

Taglist: @devcica || @kneelingshadowsalome || @tiredmetalenthusiast || @xintothewoodswegox|| @miyabilicious ||@almightywdm || @nrthple || @cassiecasluciluce ||

[mxigo]

soul sick | part 1

SERIES SYNOPSIS: It’s hard enough watching the male that holds your heart pine for another woman, one that is the definition of beauty and grace, but to watch him fall for another yet again after you feel the mating bond snap into place is its own hell. A hell that makes you dangerously ill.

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: you get ready to go out with Azriel after his check in with the Illyrian camps, but things don’t go as planned.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing. a relatively tame first chapter

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

NEXT CHAPTER

a.n. if i get anything wrong i’m blaming it on my shit memory and the fact that i haven’t finished acowar and haven’t read acofas and acosf. really just going off what i remember and what i’ve read in other fics. enjoy!

It has been three months since Feyre’s sisters were Made and subsequently brought to the Night Court. You’ve done what you could in aiding their transition to fae life, even getting as far as calling Nesta a friend, cold façade and all. But while you have gained a friend, you’re beginning to lose your best friend, and the male that you love, all at the same time.

It first started with him checking in for a second after the two of you had come back from being out and about in Velaris, then it turned to him apologetically explaining that he already had plans with Elain for the evening, and now, you hardly see him at all anymore.

It’s become more often than not that he spends his time with Elain, leaving you on the back burner, as a second thought to his plans now. You have other friends, yes, but you don’t remember a day where you haven’t at least sent notes back and forth to each other since you became close. It’s like you’re missing a part of you, something that is supposed to be there but isn’t anymore, and your body knows it. Why did it have to be him? She has a mate waiting for her for crying out loud, one who you can tell just genuinely wants to know her, and Azriel is entertaining her, knowing full well what her position is.

Guilt eats at you for these jealous feelings, knowing that the girl has been through so much when her entire life was ripped away and was literally turned into something that she was taught her entire life to fear. You want to be accepting and carefree about the situation, but it is literally impossible when you catch him looking at her with the intense adoration that you have yearned for decades for, and she has simply swooped in and stole him from you.

But tonight, you and Azriel have plans to go out into Velaris for the night for dinner. It’s your tradition that you’ve had for years to catch up after his return from his visits to the Illyrian camps, something to help him unwind. You just hope that for a single night that you can forget about it.

The new dress you bought just yesterday is a beautiful deep burgundy color, the hem falling just above your mid-thigh, long-sleeved, and the neckline plunges lower than what you are used to wearing. You were able to find a pair of nude heels that fit you perfectly in a corner shop. You were even successful in keeping your hair styled for the occasion. It was safe to say that you looked stunning, and there was a glimmer of hope that it wouldn’t be left unnoticed by him.

The heels’ click echoes off the paneled hallway as you scramble to finish getting ready, knowing that you need to leave. You stride into your bedroom, beelining for the jewelry tree on your vanity. Considering the colors that you’re wearing, you think a gold set would be the best, and you know exactly which to wear. Gently, you pick up the teardrop Alexandrite earrings and necklace that Azriel had bought you after one of his trips to the Summer Court. The gem’s color shifts between purple and green depending on the light source, easily making them your favorite pieces.

It hurts a bit when you try to put the earrings in, meeting a bit of resistance as it’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, but you’re able to get them through without too much trouble. The necklace thankfully clasps easily around your neck, the pendant falling in the middle of your chest. The delicate gold glitters in the candlelight, making you smile at the memory of Azriel giving it to you. With a shack of your head, you snap out of the memory’s haze, misting yourself with perfume as a last thought before leaving your bedroom.

The click of your heels echoes off the buildings lining the road as you make your way to Rhys’ townhouse to meet Azriel for drinks before dinner. The night’s cool breeze causes your flesh to break out in goose bumps, but it feels nice over all.

The door unlocks as you turn the knob, and the house becomes alight as you enter. The candles flicker to life to bring the house into a cozy atmosphere, and even the fireplace roars to life to stave off the last of the early spring chill.

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimes, signaling the turn of the hour at seven o’clock. Your heart flutters, excitement filling you knowing that he’ll be here any minute. You make your way into the kitchen, pulling out Azriel’s favorite whiskey and your favorite liqueur, grabbing two tumblers out of the cabinet to set it all out on the table.

Minutes tick by as you wait for him to winnow into the kitchen like he always does, a soft smile on his face as he holds out his elbow like the gentleman he is to winnow you wherever you want to go. You settle into a cushioned seat in the adjoining living room, picking up a book that has been left out and flipping open to the page that you had left on.

Those couple of minutes turn into five, then into fifteen, and then by thirty minutes, you’re constantly glancing between the clock and the kitchen, anxiety eating away at you. Azriel has never been late like this before, and if he’s ever late, it’s only by no more than five. Your stomach rumbles as hunger makes itself known, and you set down the book on the table to stand up. Maybe something happened that’s causing him to be late, but there’s a little voice that’s whispering to you, saying that he’s forgotten about you, that he’s preoccupied by a certain sister.

You shake your head, setting the book back into its spot to stand up and head back into the kitchen. You pour a drink and watch as the dark amber liquid swirls into the cup before settling around the ice. More minutes pass as you finish the drink only to pour another, still waiting, hoping that he will pop into the room, spewing apologies as he tries to explain why he was so late.

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, it is Rhys that winnows into the kitchen, startling you so bad you nearly fall off the stool.

“Mother, Rhys, give a girl a warning before you snap in like that,” you joke, righting yourself up. Your eyes meet his, and you’re confused because he’s confused, staring at you like you are crazy.

“What are you doing here? Are you meeting someone?” he asks, his head tilted slightly as he stares still.

There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, but you want so badly to be wrong about what’s happening.

“I’m meeting Az here. We’re supposed to be going out tonight like we always do when he comes back from the camps, but he’s late. Have you seen him by chance?” A look passes over Rhys’ face, and you recognize that look immediately, your face dropping, heart hammering as you wait for those few words.

“Oh, sweetheart, he left the House with Elain,” he whispered, like you would shatter at just those words, and you suppose you do.

Your breathing stutters, and it’s like the world goes fuzzy, the sounds muted as your breaks cracks. Never in all the years have you been friends with Azriel has he ever forgotten about your nights out when he comes back, let alone either forgetting or just flat out choosing to spend it with another female and not tell you. And of course, it’s with Elain.

Your lungs shake as you take your next breath, reality coming back into focus as you realize that Rhys is still in front of you, worry etched across his face as he too realizes what has happened. You knock back the rest of your drink, and your hands shake as you pick up the glasses to take care of them and to put the bottles away. In an effort to try to get Rhys to go away, to be alone, you put on a fake smile, looking at him.

“Oh, well, I guess I shouldn’t have expected that we’d be going out tonight without checking in with him to see if he was free. That’s my mistake, but thank you for telling me, Rhys. I’ll clean up here and I’ll get going,” you try, but he just shakes his head.

“Nonsense. Leave it, I’ll take care of it later. Let me take you home.”

“Honestly, Rhys, I’m ok. It’s just a misunderstanding on my part. And my home isn’t far from here at all, and the night is nice. You don’t need to winnow me,” you insisted, already done with rinsing out the glasses and putting them away. But your voice is shaking ever so slightly, sick to your stomach, and you know that Rhys notices.

He grimaces, debating with himself on what to do.

“If you’re sure,” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and you nod. “I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”

“No! No, you don’t have to do that. Seriously, Rhys, it’s not a big deal,” you beg, and finally, he relents.

He nods once before stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“You’ll let me know if you change your mind, right,” he asks.

“Of course,” you promise, and he pops back out of the house, leaving you to truly process the situation.

He took Elain out instead. He left you, that same voice whispers, louder this time. Tears sting your eyes, and a half-sob rips out of your lungs, a hand flying up to your mouth to prevent any more from leaving. But you’re fruitless in your efforts to contain your emotions as tears start spilling over, splattering onto the table.

You leave the townhouse in a flurry, harshly wiping at the tears. The house goes dark behind you and the lock snicks shut, leaving you in the night’s chill. Then all at once, your face crumbles as your emotions make themselves known. You try to reason with yourself that there’s no reason to be upset because it was true when you told Rhys that you never did confirm with Azriel if he didn’t already have plans, you just assumed.

But you never have to check in, he has always been there.

“Fuck,” you whisper, walking down the cobbled road back to your townhouse, furiously wiping away the stray tears.

The walk back is quiet for the most part, and you’re thankful that you don’t run into anyone. You would never let yourself live it down if someone saw you in the state that you’re in. You almost make it back, but as you look up, your heart drops and your veins fill with ice as you recognize two figures walking your way. They are so enraptured with each other that they haven’t noticed you yet, so you quickly move over to the edge of the road, hopefully giving yourself enough space that they don’t see you.

You continue walking, arms crossed, and hair falling around you to shield your face, and you’ve just passed them when you spare a glance, making eye contact with him.

Fuck. You walk faster, eyes trained on the ground.

“Y/N?” he calls out, but you keep walking, quickening your pace.

“Y/N! Hey, wait,” he shouts, and this time catches up with you.

A calloused hand closes itself around your arm, effectively stopping you. You whip your head around to face him, and he looks at you in confusion. His form towers over you, and you’re so close you can smell the cologne wafting off of him. You watch as his face crumbles while he looks you over, and it almost seems like he’s panicking.

“Please, just allow me a moment to explain,” he begs, but you shake your head, eyes screwing shut to prevent him seeing the frustrated tears.

“It’s fine, Az, really. I just wish you would have told me instead of having Rhys be the one to tell me where you were,” you whisper, your eyes now trained on his chest, still avoiding his eyes.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s confrontation. Even if all you want is for someone to feel what you’re feeling, and to confront them about what they’ve done, you can never bring yourself to do it, to hurt them like they had hurt you. So right now, you just want him to let you go so you can let yourself fall apart and piece yourself back together in the comfort of your home.

He is helpless as he sees you put up your walls, trying to keep your emotions in check by shutting them off entirely. It’s something that he’s never been on the receiving end of, and it crushes him to know that he’s who caused this.

A cold whisper ghosts over your wrist, and you look down to find a shadow caressing you anxiously, but it only makes you even more upset, the corners of your lips forcefully tugging down and eyes burning. Blood thunders in your ears, and you can feel your hands shaking, and no doubt Azriel can feel it too, which just makes you panic harder.

“Please, let me go I just want to go home.”

“Y/N,”

“No, Az. Just—”

“Azriel? Is everything ok?” A soft, ethereal voice breaks the moment, your eyes snapping over to the culprit.

You’re horrified as she walks over, the object of your ire making herself known. She looks absolutely breath taking dressed up, and you can’t help but understand for a moment why he would choose her over yourself. She’s absolutely perfect, and you’re… not.

She stops just behind him, placing a delicate pale hand on his back, looking up at him with worried eyes. His gaze snaps from you to her, and it makes you sick as you watch his face soften for her. You take the moment of weakness to rip your wrist away, giving yourself a step to breathe.

Azriel looks between the two of you, confliction painting his face as he tries to decide what to do, but you don’t give him the chance.

“I used to believe that you wouldn’t go as far as this, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

He reels back like he was physically slapped, looking back at you in astonishment.

“What is that supposed to mean,” he begs, his eyes wide as his grip grows tighter around your wrist, but if you say what you want to say, you’re going to irreparably damage your relationship with him. Despite how you feel, that’s the last thing that you want.

You sigh, closing your eyes and shaking your head, just wanting the conversation to end. “It doesn’t matter. Enjoy your night, Azriel.”

You spin around and high tail it away from him. Although you just want to be left alone, it still makes your heart break even more when he doesn’t try to come after you.

The guilt eats at you again knowing that you ruined his and Elain’s night, but that selfish part of you is glad that you did and made him feel like shit.

Thankfully, you make it back home before you lose it, sobs racking your body as it all comes out. The pain of being pushed aside for someone else yet again comes to a head from tonight’s events. In a fury, you rip off the dress and heels, slinging them somewhere to be found later. You all but drop your jewelry onto the vanity, letting it clatter against the dark wood top. Tears still pour out of your eyes as you rifle through your liquor cabinet, pushing to the back to grab a bottle of dark and strong whiskey, but you slam the door shut as the thought of whiskey being Azriel’s favorite pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

So instead, you crawl into bed for the night, staining your white sheets with your black-tinted tears.

-

Heavy thudding at your door drags you from sleep, making you groan as you have to peel open your eyes. The sun is blocked out by the thick curtains, confusing you even further as you try to figure out what time it could be. A headache makes itself known, pulsing behind your eyes causing you to groan as you sit up. The thudding continues, and you can’t help but snap.

“Give me a Mother-damned second! Fuck!” You slip from the sheets, stumbling across the room to get to your dresser. You pull a pair of pants and a t-shirt from a drawer, throwing on them on as you make your way to the door. You pray it’s not Azriel, but it’s more than likely it is. He’s the last one you want to see right now. Hopefully, he’s smart enough to stay away for a little while so you can cool off, allowing the whole situation to blow over.

You yank the door open, squinting at the bright sunlight, but they snap awake when you see Mor and Cassian in front of you instead, the latter standing against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“Uh…” You’re at a loss for words, guilty for the way that you had screamed at them.

“Get ready, we’re going to lunch, and you’re going to tell us why Azriel came home like his fucking puppy died,” Mor says, inviting herself in and grabbing you to lead you to your room. You look back at Cassian, eyes begging for help, but he just shrugs. Bastard.

The blonde immediately starts riffling through your wardrobe, picking through dresses and outfits, but you’re not sure what she has in mind. You allow yourself to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Cassian’s footsteps announce his entrance as he takes a seat on your love seat.

“What’s this?”

You pick your head up to see Mor holding your dress that you left in a ball on the floor. Your face flickers for a moment before you reign it back it, allowing the emotionless mask to take place.

“Nothing,” you whisper, letting your head fall back onto the bed.

It’s silent for a moment as Mor and Cassian look between themselves then back to you. It’s obvious something happened between you two last night, and the story won’t come easy from either of you.

The bed dips as both of your friends sit on the edge, one on either side as the flop down next to you. They remain quiet, but the tension and everything that you’ve been feeling makes your chin tremble, and you bite your lip to try and conceal it. But the tears sting at your eyes anyways, making the ceiling go blurry.

You sit up, digging your elbows into your knees, heaving a great sob. A small hand rests itself on your back, rubbing in circles as you allow yourself to finally fall apart.

“He fucking stood me up,” you choke out. “We always go out when he comes back from the camps. I got dressed up and everything, waited at the townhouse for a half hour just for Rhys to show up and tell me he wasn’t coming. Then I ran into him with Elain on the street on my walk home.”

They’re silent as they let you recount what happened last night, Mor’s face twisting as she watches one of her closest friends fall apart in front of her.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Cassian whispers, but you just shake your head.

“It’s fine—”

“No, it’s not fucking fine. He’s either blind or just outright stupid to not see what he’s doing to you.” Cassian’s face is set in a scowl as he thinks about his friend’s behavior after Elain came into the picture.

He knows that his brother has a history of fawning over unavailable women, but for him to entertain one who already has a mate, one that lives with them and wants to engage with her nonetheless, makes him question if Azriel is really that ignorant to the entire situation. It’s not exactly a secret that you harbor feelings for the shadowsinger, but he has been oblivious to the way that you look at him, and Cassian can only imagine how you are with him when no one else is watching.

Mor’s heart breaks while she is helpless watching your face crumble and tears drip off your chin. There’s been a lot that has brought you down, but nothing like this. You keep a strong face around your friends, always trying to be a happy and fun person to be around, letting yourself be the shoulder to lean on when they need it.

Although Mor was the first obstacle between you and Azriel, she was always a good friend to you since you first joined the Inner Circle decades ago. Her warm and confident nature brought you out of your shell when she introduced you to everyone on that fateful night at Rita’s, which in turn brought you to Azriel.

You let your feelings ruin it all, the voice whispers, if you had just kept your feelings in check then you wouldn’t be in this position.

Then, with a deep breath, the mask comes back.

You wipe your face of the tear tracks, sniffling to try and clear your sinuses before looking at Mor and Cassian with a watery smile.

“So, what were you guys saying about lunch?”

A look passes between your friends before looking back at you.

“Well, we thought today would be a good day to try that new place on the Sidra for lunch,” Cassian answers, a slight smile on his face.

“I would love to. Will you two help me pick something to wear?”

“What else would we be here for, angel,” Mor giggles, standing up and taking you with her.

I’m so lucky to have them as friends.

[lumidles]

“Husk would work better as a mentor figure to Angel”

I understand where this take comes from, but I think it has more to do with how the characters are subconsciously perceived as rather than the actual contents of their characters and dynamics together. People who say this are mistaking Husk as a narrative role model for Angel when their purpose (at this point) is to be narrative parallels. I think Husk and Angel work infinitely better as equals.

"Age Coding"

If you ask the average casual Hazbin viewer how old they assumed Angel was when watching the series, they would likely say somewhere in his mid-20s. Husk might have more variation, but everyone would agree he’s meant to come across as an older, more jaded character. A “grumpy old man” archetype.

Assuming that the information on the characters’ ages and years of death are not drastically different from the Pilot’s canon, we know that Angel died in 1947 in his mid-30s, while Husk died in the 1970s in his 60s-70s. This would mean they, at most, have an age gap of around 10 years which is negligible when they are both adults that have existed for over 100 years. I take information that was canonized in the Pilot era with a grain of salt, but I think it’s at the very least safe to assume they are both around 100 years old when combining their time on Earth and in Hell based on the motifs of their designs.

We know that they both have a similar amount of life experience, but the “age coding” (for lack of a better term) of these characters already gives people a subconscious feeling that Husk is much older and wiser, and is therefore a fitting mentor for someone like Angel, despite the fact that Angel has been in Hell longer than Husk. This is amplified by the bartender trope that Husk fulfills; a blunt and perceptive “older” character like him would make sense to be the role model in most series. The problem is that it doesn't fully apply here.

Husk’s Assumptions

Husk shows a lot of self awareness, a common trait for a mentor that has done a lot of self-reflection to have. When Angel asks for a strong drink after a long day, Husk warns him that it won’t solve his problems.

“If you’ve got a problem you’re not going to find the solution at the bottom of a bottle. I should know, I’ve been looking there a long time.” (0:17-0:41)

Important things to note here:

Husk isn’t on the “other side” of dealing with these issues, it's an ongoing struggle for him still. He cannot give advice beyond deterring Angel from going down that path

He’s assuming Angel doesn’t already know this or that he doesn’t fully understand how using alcohol to cope can hurt him

Angel, not wanting to actually get into the conversation, deflects by flirting with Husk. Husk calls him out for being fake and this is what gets Angel to snap. Not because he doesn’t agree with Husk, but because he feels Husk doesn’t understand why that persona is so important to him.

Angel’s persona is not only what he’s loved and famous for, it’s what keeps him safe. It’s a big part of his work. Husk challenging and insulting that is a hit to Angel’s already fragile ego. (But that’s a ramble for another day).

(6:52-7:04)

After Angel storms out and Vaggie tells Husk to go after him, Husk says “it’s just Angel, he’ll be fine.” He’s assuming Angel is just being sensitive after feeling called out. This isn’t completely wrong, but he fails to consider how his outburst might run deeper than that.

(0:49-1:25)

You can see Husk’s guilt and surprise in this scene. He knew Angel was putting on a front and correctly clocked that Angel uses his persona to cover his insecurity and to gain some feeling of control, but he made the assumption that Angel’s fake and self-sabotaging behaviors were not things that Angel was actively self-aware about.

Angel is extremely self-aware about his own situation. He knows exactly what he’s doing; it’s a calculated recklessness. This is one of the biggest reasons why Husk wasn’t made to be a mentor figure for Angel. Both of them can identify the issues in their lives, and both of them don’t know how to go about fixing it.

Husk and Angel as Parallels

Husk and Angel both know they're engaging in self-destructive behavior, and they both know why they do so. Husk and Angel are both under the control of someone who owns their soul. Husk and Angel are parallels and this is the purpose of “Loser, Baby” and the scene leading up to it. The point of the song isn’t for Angel to realize that he’s in a rough situation, the point is for him to realize that he’s not alone.

Their friendship is based on them seeing each other as equals, which is part of why I enjoy them so much. Charlie is Angel’s mentor, Husk is his confidant.

I think it’s pretty clear that Husk and Angel will be going in a romantic direction in season 2 which I'm excited for. I do think they’re endgame, but I’m not against a platonic outcome for them. There are a lot of ways it could work.

My main point is that they help each other, rather than Husk only helping Angel. They both gained a friendship and a shoulder to lean on from someone who understands.

"I just got used to you guys... I ain't finding no new drinking buddies" (7:04-7:09)

[ohnomytummy]

Here's a tummy ache scenario for ya...

A and B both enjoy belly aches and the things that come with that, much like you and me. So one day, they decide to have a competition. They will eat the same amount of gummy bears (somewhere between 30 and 40) and have to hold it as long as they can because the person who can hold it in the longest wins. And the winner gets full control of the losers belly for 24 hours.

Considering how many gummies you’ve eaten in the last 24 hours I think you would beat me in a heartbeat (or maybe not considering it’s consequences 😉)

Before starting, A and B get into their loosest, comfiest, dirtiest clothes to prepare for the day’s events. Towels are washed and sheets are prepped for re-lining the bed, just in case.

They start in the morning, already confirming they’ll have nowhere to be for the next two days. A, being a bigger glutton for extreme belly aches and torment, finishes the bag before B can get down 10; B’s stomach has turned on a gas faucet and bubbles are starting to float and pop all over the top like foam. B, trying to hide their rapidly growing discomfort, watches the movie the pair put on in stoic silence. From the corner of their eye, they can see A peering at their middle.

“I can see your stomach pushing against your sweater. Your silence is fooling no one, babe,” A pries playfully, poking roughly into B’s stomach.

“Hey, don’t cheat,” B whines, gently pushing A’s hand away.

A rolls their eyes and curls into B’s side to lovingly rub the top of their stomach. “Fine, fine, I’ll be nice. If you finish your bag.”

“That’s mean,” B jokes, stuffing another handful in their mouth. Mid chew they start complaining. “Swallowing hurts my stomach,” while guiding A’s hand over the bloated top of their abdomen, dramatically sighing for effect.

“Rules are rules,” A stands their ground and adds their other hand to B’s tummy for rubs of encouragement. B moans softly as rumbles erupt from their stomach, soon they start forcing up burps to relieve the growing pressure, but with A’s hands on their middle they keep eating until their bag is finally gone.

“Happy?” B rolls their eyes and adds their own hands to their belly, which already feels like it’s filling with air and is beginning to round like an inflating rubber ball.

“Very,” A kisses B’s cheek and puts their head on their shoulder, cuddling into the blanket to finish the movie. A’s tiny middle is slowly beginning to fill with gas, but they’re willing to ignore the tightening feeling in their guts to tease B, who’s got a much lower tolerance for sugar free sweets.

As the day progresses and morning turns to afternoon, B remains uncomfortably round, tight, and nauseous. “I feel like you made me pour a packet of yeast down my throat.”

A begins asking B to get things from around the apartment just to watch them get up and cradle their gut while they walked. The bottom of their sweater is riding up so A can see the bottom of B’s belly—bloated and strained with gummy sludge. On one such errand (getting a water from the fridge because the one on the end table was warm), just as B opens the fridge and bends over to get A their beloved water, B feels their belly drop as a gurgles rips from their belly button to the bottom of their belly. All A hears is B moan quietly from their spot in the kitchen.

Obviously curious, A gets up to check on B. A’s own middle is 2x its usual size, but all their feeling are some tight, strained gurgles. They’ll be in the bathroom at some point, but not anytime soon. A reaches the kitchen, their hands teasingly placed on the sides of their tummy to extenuate their bloat, and asks sweetly, “need any help?”

“Not unless you’ve got any pepto,” B mumbles, closing the fridge and handing A the water.

“What?” A takes the drink, their fingers lingers on B’s. A heard B loud and clear.

“Oh hush,” B sighs, embracing A’s bloated tum, pushing their middles together, popping a series of small bubbles B can feel all too much, making him burp sickly. “I don’t feel good.”

“Oh?” A’s eyebrows raise in concern, but their eyes twinkle. “How long have you been—“

“Two hours,” B moans, placing A’s hands on their underbelly. B blushes, embarrassed. “You’re gonna win…”

A giggles sweetly, rubbing B’s slop filled belly firmly, eliciting even more whimpers and desperate moans from B. A watches as B’s thighs clench together, relishing in the look on B’s face as they feel a slippery gurgle slide across the hand placed on B’s guts. “Yeah.” A kisses the top of Bs tummy. “You need to go, don’t you?”

“So bad,” B’s whole face goes crimson as they whimper.

“And you can’t hold it anymore?”

“Please,” B begs. “I really can’t.” A warm, sick cramp rushes through B’s belly and they desperately clutch and lean into the counter top. “Oh g-god…I need to go now!”

B sends A a pleading look, understanding the consequences of their actions but desperately not wanting to make a mess in the kitchen. A steps aside and B rushes to the bathroom, clutching their belly and stripping their clothing as they go. By the time B reaches the bathroom, they’re naked and groaning, slamming the door shut before A can follow them inside. But that doesn’t stop A from sitting outside the door, listening for nearly a half hour while B moans and swears as their belly gets sick from the candy.

The 24 hours might have to come from you ;)))

[wheels-of-despair]

Enough | A Make Up Story | Tom Grant x You | Series Masterlist

Chapter 15: I Don't Even Want to Be Me Words: 1.8k

The first thing you saw on Sunday morning was a pair of big brown eyes.

"Hi," you whispered, trying to focus on the beauty in them instead of the sadness.

He responded by launching himself at you, like he'd been waiting for the opportunity since he woke up. You laid there and held him until he'd had his fill. When he started trailing gentle kisses down your neck, you gave in and had one more last time.

You laid there a while, just staring at each other, until you couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer. You hoped to be on the road by noon. You had no idea how traffic would be today, and you were expected back at work tomorrow.

You started to get up, but Tom's hand shot out to grab yours. "Don't."

"Gotta get up sometime, Tom."

"If you don't get up, you can't leave."

You close your eyes and sigh. He has a point. But your mind has been made. You have to go home.

"C'mon. Let's see how your pancake skills are holding up." You force a smile, give him a light smack on his boxer-covered ass, and pull yourself out of bed. He lays there and watches as you get dressed. Not dressed for hanging around his van, or packing at April's, or going out, or freezing your ass off in the sea. Dressed for leaving. Dressed for home.

"C'mon," you repeat, holding out a hand to him. His eyes fill with tears again, and he gets up angrily, without your help. He stomps past you and into the bathroom and slams the door.

You take the opportunity to shove the rest of your belongings into your bag and deposit it in the living room.

You're flipping the second pancake when the bathroom door opens. You keep your eyes on the stove. Tom stands behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and his chin rests on your shoulder.

"Sorry."

You rest your free hand on top of his and lean back into him as a way of telling him he's forgiven for his little tantrum.

"You wanna do the next one?" you ask as you move the finished pancake to the plate.

Tom reaches for the batter with one hand, holding you in place with the arm that's still wrapped around you. He watches over your shoulder as he pours the mixture into the pan, places the batter back on the counter, then resumes his clinging. You worry that your heart will never recover.

He waits until it starts bubbling before he reaches for the spatula. He flips it expertly, even from the odd angle.

"Perfect," you admire. He really is.

You stay like that until you're out of batter, then shuffle over to the table to eat. Most of breakfast passes by quietly. You're trying to think of something to say to him when someone knocks at the door.

Tom licks a bit of syrup from his thumb and goes to answer it. You can't see out the door, but you know who it is when you see his body tense.

"Hi, Tom. Can I talk to her?"

Tom doesn't move.

"I'll be right out, Jade," you call from behind him. He closes the door and turns to you with a look somewhere between fury and misery. "It's alright," you whisper to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. "She probably just wants to say goodbye."

"Again?"

"Again." You kiss the tip of his nose, grab your jacket, and step through the beaded curtains into the mid-morning sun.

"Hi, Jade."

"Hi, dove."

You stand there awkwardly for a moment.

"You wanna…" Jade tilts her head toward a picnic table in the distance. You nod and walk there with her in silence, sitting on top together and resting your feet on the bench.

Were it not for the plywood window, you'd probably be staring at Tom right now.

"Figured you'd be leaving today."

"Yeah. Gonna try to be on the road by noon."

"I'm really sorry about the way this turned out."

You finally turn to look at her. "I'm not."

"You're not?" she asks in surprise.

You shake your head.

"It's time, Jade." It comes out softer than it probably should have, but it's Jade. You could never stay mad at her for long.

You look into her eyes, but you don't feel the pull the way you used to. She's beautiful. She's always been beautiful; she always will be. She'll always have that Jade Charm that can make people move mountains for her; change who they are just for a chance to be near her.

Why doesn't it feel like a relief to gaze into her eyes and feel nothing?

"I'll miss you," she eventually says, unable to stand the quiet.

"I know," you nod, hoping it's true. "I'll miss you too."

"What about Tom?" The corner of her mouth twitches.

"I'll miss him too." You know that's not what she's asking, and she knows you misunderstood on purpose.

"Ruth feels awful about what happened with him."

You pick at a splinter of wood on the table between you.

"I'm glad he had someone here to watch out for him this week. Ruth is too. She says he's a great guy. He's just…"

"He is a great guy. He just wasn't what she wanted," you supply. "Know how that feels."

"Darling, is that what you think? That I didn't want you?" You peel off the strip of wood and twirl it in your fingers. "Please look at me."

You turn to her with a hard look.

"I love you," she says. "I always have. You are the only person I wanted here with me when Nan died. No one has ever made me feel more safe or loved than you. I'm sorry if I made you feel like you weren't wanted. And I'm sorry if I never told you that before."

She hadn't. It had taken five years of blind devotion and what you thought was a last goodbye to get it out of her.

"Then why did you never ask me to stay?"

She doesn't answer.

"I tried so hard to make you love me. I'd have been anyone you wanted me to be."

"I just wanted you to be you," she says gently.

"I don't even want to be me, Jade."

She looks at you curiously, and you change gears before you have to explain.

"Do you love her? Ruth, I mean?" You twirl the sliver of wood in your hands, unable to look at her.

Jade chuckles. "I don't know. She makes me feel… different. I can't quite explain it."

"Is she going to stay with you?"

"For a while, I suppose." It doesn't hurt as bad as you thought it would.

"You've clearly given this lot of thought."

"You were always the thinker, remember? You'd plan things, then I'd ruin them by being spontaneous."

"Hurricane Jade," you smile.

Jade smiles back, and it reaches her eyes.

"What will you do now, dove?"

"Go home, get back to work…" you shrug.

"You deserve better than that."

"What else am I supposed to do, Jade?"

"Something that makes you happy," she suggests. She made you happy once… didn't she? You snap the wood in half and drop the pieces on the ground.

Jade steps off the table, and you instinctively follow.

"Can I hug you?" she asks, almost like she's afraid of the answer. You nod and embrace her.

"Can you do something for me?" she asks. You nod again and rest your chin on her shoulder. "Find someone who deserves you. Someone who makes you happy. Someone stable, and normal, and nothing at all like me."

The irony does not escape you. But the tears do.

"I'll always love you, Jade," you choke out.

"I'll always love you too, dove." She gives you one final squeeze and takes a step back. "Drive safe." She wipes away a tear. "And be happy." You stand there and watch Jade's favorite jacket grow smaller until she turns a corner and disappears.

It feels like she's taken a piece of your heart with her.

You dry your eyes and return to Tom's van. He rises from the sofa when you enter. He's dressed now, and the wreckage of breakfast has been cleared away.

"You alright?" he asks.

You nod as you walk toward him and bury your face in his chest. You squeeze each other tight and you try to banish the thoughts of throwing all your plans out the window and staying here with him forever. But Tom deserves better, too.

You pull back, look at the clock, and meet his eyes.

"Thank you, Tom," you whisper.

"You don't have to go."

"I don't know how you did it, but you turned what could've been the worst week of my life into one of the best."

"So stay."

"Remember what I told you yesterday?" you ask. He looks upward and fights back tears. "We have to figure out who we are without them."

"Will you at least come back and see me?" His eyes pierce holes through you.

"Tom…"

"Please say yes. Even if you don't mean it. Don't leave me here with nothing."

How much simpler would your life have been if Jade had left you with nothing that first time? No phone number, no address, no see you later, dove. Where would you be now if you hadn't spent five fucking years waiting for her to come back to you?

You go in for a hug so he can't see you tearing up. "Tom, you could have any girl you want. You're smart, and funny, and hard-working, and fucking gorgeous. You don't want me. Wait 'til spring, when this place is crawling with tourists, and make some young thing's dreams come true. Hell, you could pick a new one every week. You deserve to see what else is out there. You deserve to have fun, and mess around, and decide what you want out of life."

"I want you." His voice cracks, and so does your heart.

You turn, pick up your bag, and head outside before you break. You throw the battered bag into the backseat, but before you can get in the car, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn, and Tom holds out a crinkled paper bag.

You look from the brown sack to Tom's bloodshot eyes.

"Sandwich for the road," he says emotionlessly.

You accept Tom's gift and carefully put it in the car. Against your better judgement, you come back for one more hug. One more kiss. And then… you were gone.

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

Echoes of the Past (1) - Whispers of Darkness

Summary: When a night of drinking with friends unearths a dusty book long forgotten about Y/N's friends decide to try their hands at demon summoning. Disappointed it seems to not have worked they all go home leaving Y/N alone with someone lurking in the shadows. What will happen when a childhood friend, who's also an incubus, turns up looking for answers. Slight slow burn with smut to be added in future chapters.

Demon Bang Chan x Witch Female Reader.

This is my own work not a reblog! Please do not repost or translate.

Series Masterlist Navigation

Content Warnings- cursing, demonic rituals, mentions of consuming alcohol

Word Count: 1,733

As Halloween night nears and the spooky season is in full swing Y/N and her friends decide to get together for a night of drinks and fun. Y/N goes into her kitchen to root around for more alcohol, she's sure she has some hidden somewhere around her, her beautiful friend Lisa shouts to get her attention asking her to come back into the living room.

Giving up momentarily on her quest for alcohol she shrugs and rejoins her friends, stopping mid step as Jennie holds up a book you'd thought was lost when you moved house a few years ago "what are you doing with that old thing?" She asks with her nose scrunched up in mock disgust "does this shit work?" Jennie asks excitedly almost vibrating in her spot on the floor "fuck no" she laughs as she shakes her head "got given it as a birthday present one year when I was young, it's a load of shit" Y/N goes to reach for the book feeling a sudden need to protect it but stumbles having to catch herself mid air, a feat considering how buzzed she was, when Lisa snatches the book away unexpectedly "what the hell?" Y/N groans throwing herself onto her sofa "sorry honey but I need to look through this thing" she laughs as her nimble fingers flick through the dusty and brittle pages.

As the night continued Y/N had almost drifted off to sleep when a shriek made her jolt upright "who died?" She mumbles making the girls laugh, "nobody, Jennie found some hottie in that book of yours apparently" Alexa giggles as she points to the two girls drooling over what looks like a sketch of a young looking man with striking blonde locks. Y/N's eyes blink a few times as a sense of foreboding and nostalgia settle in her tummy when she looks at the ink "who is this Y/N you gotta tell me!" Jennie giggles drunkenly making her laugh "uhh a lust demon or something if I'm remembering right, haven't read that thing in a long ass time" an excited gasp shoots out of the girls perfectly glossed lips "if he's a demon that means we can summon him right?" She smirks as she wiggles the book in the grasp, the notion of doing something so spiritual in mid October makes all the other girls in the room scream happily.

That dark sense of foreboding returns to her tummy and squeezes at her chest "I… don't think that's a good idea guys'' the girls in the room start moving furniture to make space for the summoning circle they need to draw "why not?" Lisa asks as the two other girls grab supplies such as candles and chalk from around the house "you said yourself the books a load of shit" Y/N's eyebrows crease as she watches the hurried movements suddenly feeling herself start to sober up "worst case scenario nothing happens and it's a bust, best case scenario we get to order around a hot demon" she wiggles her eyebrows at the uneasy girl "who says he'll listen to we say?" Y/N asks "no duh it says so in your book" Jennie nods while pointing to the book in Lisa's hands.

Once everything is ready the girls each sit at a point around the circle and Lisa holds the book out to Y/N "what? I have to read the spell?" She asks with a frown "I don't even wanna do this" she whines "it's your book honey so you get the honours" Alexa smiles as the girls join hands "lucky me" she grumbles but places the book in her lap and holds the hands of the girls to her sides, she recites the spell as best she can from the book and they all wait with baited breath. A few moments roll by but seemingly nothing is happening "what a bust" Lisa moans as the girls all share looks of disappointment "don't look at me, I tried to warn you guys" Y/N shrugs as a long yawn escapes her body, she rolls her shoulders and stands "I think that's me done for the night sorry girls" she smiles sheepishly, they all give her a hug and thank her hosting them.

Once everyone has gone Y/N flops herself down onto her sofa in exhaustion and groans when her eyes fall onto the book abandoned on the floor. Deciding to place the book back on her bookcase where it belongs she turns to get up off the soft surface and picks up the book gently, she rubs her thumbs over the cover and smiles thinking back to her childhood and all the times she thought she was a witch who would summon demons to be her friend when she was lonely. One of the demons she remembers being especially drawn to, he even conjured her a sparkling blue rose once after she'd been bullied at the playground. She tries to remember the names she'd made up for her demonic friends but her thoughts are fuzzy like she's trying to remember a dream of a memory rather than her own actual memories.

The sound of a man clearing his throat suddenly breaks the silence making her physically jump into the air almost dropping the book when she recovers from the shock she looks to find where the noise came from and her eyes almost fall out of the sockets as she can't believe what she's looking at "Been a long time since I was last summoned by you, what a nice surprise" the voice greets her making the blood in her veins run cold "w-what do you mean since I last summoned you? I've never summoned anything in my life" she squeaks in fear "you don't remember me?" he asks, looking almost offended as he makes a move to walk towards her "I know it's been a long time Y/N but-" he's cut off when she points to him with a shaky finger making his eyebrow raise "h-how do you know my name? what's going on?" She steps back from him which makes the demon stop in his tracks as he holds his hands up looking completely confused "you truly don't remember me? at all?" he asks slowly with a look of pain painted across his beautiful face.

She shakes her head "no… the spell worked? How did the spell work?" he takes a deep breath before speaking again "yes...it did work..." he says trying to diffuse the tension in the room "it worked the same way it always has, because you're a witch" he looks deep into her eyes as he waits for his words to sink in "a… a witch? I can't be- I don't u-understand" she tries to slow her breathing as her eyes flit to the summoning circle "why didn't you appear when the girls were here?" She asks confused as he walks towards her making him sigh deeply "how could you have forgotten" he whispers looking so hurt it makes her heart clench.

He clears his throat before continuing "you used to summon me all the time when we were children, we'd play together in this very house, you even summoned my younger brothers a few times" he gestures to the room around him as if to make his point "you were able to summon me then and still can now because you have witches blood coursing through your veins, all the woman of your maternal family line have been practising witches except your mother. She turned her back on the craft a long time ago" his words are making her head spin as she tries to take in everything he's telling her "and finally, I didn't appear before because you were with other humans, of course I heard you call and felt your magic and I wanted to race up to you as soon as I could but once I sensed you weren't alone I waited in the shadows until they left" he sighs trying to help fill the gaps in her memory.

She picks up the spell book as she flicks through the pages hoping it'll help her remember something… anything "I don't remember anything you've said" she frown as his eyes drop to the floor dejectedly "I do remember playing with this book and pretending I could conjure up magical children to play with when I felt lonely but that's all it was right? Just my overactive imagination" he simply looks at her with a small smirk on his face "maybe my presence is helping you remember, that boy you remember playing with… was me. You didn't make it all up, I was real… I AM real Y/N" he thinks for a moment before holding out his hand, a small blue spark shoots from his palm and a beautiful blue rose suddenly appears in its place.

As soon as she sees the rose she gasps, holding her hand over her mouth as she looks up "Chan…? You were real all this time?" A single stray tear rolls down her cheek as he smiles widely and suddenly wraps his arms around her pulling her into a tight hug. They stay like that for a few moments before she pulls back with a confused look on her face "how could I have forgotten you? It's not everyday you just forget you can summon demons out of a magical book" the demon standing before her hums as he thinks while pacing around the room "it's possible that because this all happened when you were a child your mother told you it was all in your head and it's as simple as that or your mother could have used her magical connection to get a warlock to tamper with your memories" a sound of shock leaves her throat "warlocks exist too?" He simply nods his head "how would we know which version happened?" Bang Chan bites his lip as he weighs up his options "I could use my magic to look through your memories but it's an uncomfortable process and it requires immense trust on both parties" Y/N's brow creases as the room becomes eerily silent, the air around them filling with unspoken tension "I'll do it" she resolves as she looks up at his enchanting eyes.

[winterfireice]

look at me posting a fanfic for the first time in months (also the first time this year so yay) anyway here is some Sophiana because when and doubt write random gay stuff for pride month.

story under the cut

Age 13

I’m walking through the pier with my family, it’s June 15th and my parents wanted to find somewhere to eat with a good vegetarian menu and outdoor seating. My brothers are playing some random game where they try to attach sticky notes to each other’s backs without the other noticing and my mom has tried to stop the game three separate times but since then has given up, they’re both being quiet and that seems to be all my parents care about. 

I on the other hand am window shopping. I’m looking at colorful beach bags and darkly-tinted sunglasses, I pass by all of them without a problem. The only thing that catches my eye is a flowy sundress that looks long enough to touch the floor even if I am wearing heels. But my attention is quickly taken away by a little piece of fabric on the counter. It has all the colors of the rainbow and a thin tan stick anchoring it into a pen cup. 

My mom notices me hanging behind and wraps an arm around my shoulders into some weird side hug and gives me a look I don’t know how to process. Just a second later Fitz, one of my brothers yells out because he finally notices there has been a bright green piece of paper stuck on the back since we left the house and Alvar has just been adding to the collection. Aka Fitz has been losing this made-up game since it started. 

The rest of my family’s attention is diverted to my brothers and even mine is taken away from the flag.

Age 14

I’m on a run with my brother Fitz’s best friend, Keefe. I hate running alone and he was the only one free so I asked him to go with me. My dad gave me an extra long look which I ignored, I’m pretty sure the majority of people we know think we are going to start dating since he’s only a year older than me, and were both single. Plus he’s been hanging out around our house a lot more, one of my friends said it's because he likes me but I’m pretty sure he likes my brother more. 

My side starts to cramp so I slow down waiting for the pain to subside and taking deep breaths. Keefe notices I’m no longer next to him and turns around to find me. He gives me a second to catch my breath and looks around, we are on a residential street a couple of blocks away from my house, and while there are a lot of trees providing shade the June heat is still beating down on us so much I can feel the sweat dripping down my neck. 

I’ve closed my eyes to try to get the sun out of them but when I open them I see Keefe’s head turned to one of the houses. I follow his gaze and see a flag hanging by someone’s front door, it's the same color pallet as the one I saw a year ago and I can see Keefe smile to himself before asking me if I’m ready to finish up our run.

Age 15

I’m on a picnic with one of my best friends, Sophie. She has pined up her long blonde hair to beat the heat of mid-June. She prepared the whole day, made little sandwiches, and packed different fruits and cookies, there are even some baked goods her mom taught her how to make.  

The two of us are leaning against a huge oak tree in the park and watching the neighborhood kids fly kites and chase each other around the other trees. 

“Ooo look a rainbow!” Sophie gasps and points past some clouds on the other side of the park. She pulls out her phone and I notice her lock screen has a photo of her holding two little flags, one is rainbow and the other is a combination of pinks and oranges, she swipes away the photo as she opens her camera to take a photo of the rainbow and I can't ignore the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Age 16

It’s June and I’m sitting in my room with my brother, his boyfriend, and my girlfriend. We’re getting ready for a parade that Sophie and Keefe heard about. Soph is using her phone as a mirror since all the other ones in my room are currently being used but before she opened her camera I saw her newest lock screen which is a photo of the two of us holding up a pride flag just like the one she got me a couple of months ago that sits in an old cup on my desk that I use to hold my pens.

But hey, it's just a cute little flag.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Mimi: "So, MHA!Winx!Hisashi is just Mr. Crocker, but he’s down with murdering children?" / Me: "…..I mean. We don’t know that Mr. Crocker WASN'T down with child murder." But yeah, similar vibes, of this guy is obsessed with proving "MAGIC IS REAL" & proving that Katsuki is magic. I imagine there's a mid-point somewhere, where Hisashi manages to contact AfO, & things really start going nuts.

I mean it's been a while since I've watched FoP but I feel like Crocker was down for child murder.

But also yeah it's.

It's been a while for them because obvs Inko got a restraining order as well with the divorce so it's not like Hisashi could get near the kids to try and figure out what the shit is happening.

He probably fucked off for a bit to investigate because like. If Magic is a thing™, then there's probably more out there than just these two kids.

Actually like. Swinging back to the idea that the regular Winx plots already happened and the like.

We can keep it that Bloom's home of Gardenia is in Italy, as the original series is Italian. And while Magic is returning to the world, it's slow and basically spreading and it's still very like. Hush hush comparatively. So Earth Magixae are slowly appearing in a radius around Gardenia slowly spreading. But the news/events haven't made it to Japan just yet, so very few people here know.

So he probably started looking into it then found out about these events and hopped on over to Italy to be like 'yo what the fuck' and found out about all the Magic nonsense.

[rising-volteccers]

hi!!!, Can you please write something about how young Friede get his pikachu. I'm kinda obsessed with them.

Okay so initially I had an idea until they announced the summary for episode 18. After watching it, I decided to fill this prompt in a way by writing an in between scene of that episode featuring younger Friede and Cap. Hopefully it still fits within the prompt, and if not, my apologies for that! I hope it'd be an enjoyable read still!

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Captain Pikachu

--

While Orla did an awesome job in creating the Brave Asagi, they still needed to put in a lot of work before this airship could take to the skies. For starters, Friede needed to go through the proper hoops to legally operate an airship. Next they had to hash out details of important aspects like their supplies, means of earning funds to keep this ship running and the like.

It felt like every day he faced a new set of problems that gave him a headache but quite frankly, Friede didn’t mind it as much. This was all to make the Rising Volt Tacklers soar high in the sky. They’d want to make it as peaceful as possible, after all.

He spent the better part of the morning working out what they need to keep the engine room running. Friede offered Charizard to help with firepower if needed but obviously they couldn’t rely on just his starter. The pair decided to catch more Fire-types if they had the opportunity to help Orla out in there.

At some point, Cap probably found the talk too boring for his tastes so he left the meeting room early. Friede wondered about his partner’s whereabouts but figured he was somewhere on the ship at least. In the meantime, he made the short trip below deck towards his room.

When Friede pushed open the door, he paused mid step into the room. His eyes quickly zeroed in on Cap standing on top of his desk. He was staring at himself in the mirror, pawing at the captain’s hat on top of his head with his button nose all scrunched up.

Various thoughts immediately came to his mind. Friede genuinely forgot that Cap was a wild Pikachu until recently. The concept of accessories never once crossed his mind, nor was it something he’d naturally consider anyway. Pikachu typically communicate via squeaks and tail shakes. They also send messages to one another–or with other Electric-type species–by using electricity. 

What kind of genius Pokemon Professor am I if I forgot something this simple? he mused, resisting the urge to rub the back of his head in mild frustration. Throughout the airship’s construction, he was dead set on having Pikachu be the captain. To commemorate it, he made the trip from Slateport City all the way to Lilycove, wanting to check out its large department store to find a small captain’s hat. 

As to keep it a surprise, Friede had Cap stay with Ludlow that day. Finding one that fit Cap’s measurements didn’t take too long–it seemed that nautical themed accessories were pretty popular in Hoenn seeing that it was a landmass surrounded by the sea–but he wanted it to be extra special. He paid extra to have a custom emblem attached to it, feeling pretty pleased with the idea of fashioning the ‘F’ from his name (and freedom) to emulate wings. He thought it was fitting for them that will be flying high and free. 

When Friede unveiled the hat and place it on Pikachu’s head, he seemed to like it, accepting his new role as captain with pride. Captain Pikachu had a nice ring to it, and he needed a clear tell for others to know that too. Friede honestly believed that it was a good idea. 

Now, seeing Cap fiddle with the hat, his stomach churned slightly from guilt. Had Cap simply followed along with his whims, caught up in the heat of the Rising Volt Tackler’s formation? From what Friede knew of his personality from the weeks he spent researching on him, Cap was confident, self assured and would quickly show his displeasure if he didn’t like something (or someone. Ah, he could almost feel the phantom touch of Cap headbutting him in the stomach). 

If Cap really didn’t like the hat, surely he would have shown it the moment Friede place it on his head right?

Then again, it was his lacking ability in understanding a Pokemon’s emotions that led him to stagnate. Friede theoretically knew a lot about them but he didn’t consider that Pokemon too had their personal wants and desires. There won’t always be a logical reasoning behind their behavior. He can’t just check off a list and claimed this was how all Pikachu would behave.

They might have formed a bond but it was still new. Friede had a lot to learn about his partner, and it felt like he already missed the mark from the start.

Lost in his thoughts, Friede didn’t realize his hum caught Cap’s attention. He found himself face to face with the Pikachu who looked surprised to see him here.

Swallowing down his rising doubt, Friede plastered on a friendly smile as he properly entered his room. “Hey Cap! I was searching for you. Seems like you’re… checking out the hat, eh? I guess it’s not something that you’re used to, huh? You don’t have to wear it if makes you feel uncomfortable, yeah?”

Try as he might, Friede couldn’t fully mask the mild disappointment in himself for failing to understand his partner. He genuinely thought it was a good idea, one that Cap liked but he also won’t force Cap to do things he wasn’t comfortable with. Establishing that early on should show Cap that Friede saw him as equals, hopefully deepening their bond going forward.

Cap’s button nose scrunched up once more. For a moment, Friede thought he somehow messed things up again. Before he can say anything, Cap adjusted the hat till it settled nicely between his ears.

He then turned to the mirror, striking a confident pose with his arms crossed and head tilted upwards. After that, Cap turned to him to flash the same thumbs up that he did when they were higher than the sun. He maintained that pose for a few seconds before taking the hat off. If Friede didn’t know any better, it looked like Cap was embarrassed. 

It took a few seconds for Friede to properly understand the meaning behind Cap’s actions. Warmth bubbled within his chest, his lips trembling from the effort to keep his smile from stretching ear to ear. 

Cap was… assuring him that he liked the hat. He saw past his mask, showing Friede that he didn’t read him wrong. Perhaps it’d still take time for Cap to get used to wearing it but he didn’t hate it like he (secretly) feared. Cap could have just worn it but he went the extra mile of posing to really drive the point home. 

Oh, he really does have an awesome partner.

Friede quickly closed the distance between them to scoop Cap up. The Pikachu squeaked in surprise, cheeks sparking in mild warning. He didn’t care about the potential electrocution in his near future. All Friede could think about was how kind, considerate and awesome Cap was.

Chuckles slipped past his lips before they settled into a goofy grin. “Aww, you look so cool Cap! That’s my partner! Anyone who sees you and not think you’re the epitome of awesome doesn’t know a Pikachu from a Plusle!”

The rush of compliments seemed to make Cap even more embarrassed. He tugged down the rim with his paws as a partial cover but Friede didn’t miss the tiny smile he sported. 

Friede decided to hold off the rest lest he pushed Cap past the point of embarrassment and into the ‘you better shut up before I make you’ stage. He still had nothing to counter for electric shocks after all. 

With one last chuckle, Friede brought Cap up so he could settle on his shoulder. He then looked at their reflection in the mirror.

Friede wore his usual Charizard themed shirt with a jacket on top while Cap was in his hat. Seeing that they were going to travel all over the world, he supposed he too should wear the part. Depending on parts of the ocean they’d cross and the high altitude, he certainly needed to dress warmer. Perhaps some aviator goggles too for the flights he’d likely do on Charizard.

Well, Friede had plenty of time to figure out his personal wardrobe. The Brave Asagi had yet to make its maiden voyage, and with the time they’d likely spend in various corners of the world, inspiration might strike when he least expected it to. 

In the meantime, they were plenty of other things to figure out first. Orla handled the ship’s maintenance but they lacked manpower for other important aspects of running an airship. For the time being, they’d take turns making food for everyone on board. In the case of an emergency, Friede knew how to perform first aid but he lacked proper knowledge to treat anything serious. 

So many things to consider that it left his head spinning after. Still, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Friede would take figuring out the logistical nightmare of keeping this airship running over researching in a lab any day of the week. 

“We’re going to be super busy, huh Cap?” he murmured, raising a finger to lightly rub Cap underneath his chin. “There’s probably going to be a lot of problems but we won’t give up, yeah?”

Like the Pikachu who never gave up in flying to see the horizon, the Rising Volt Tacklers too would get past whatever problems they faced so they can fly towards a new horizon every day.

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

Little Things I Dig About STRANGE WORLD

Much like the one I did for PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH, this post will be a list of unorganized thoughts on STRANGE WORLD. And as usual, if you haven't seen STRANGE WORLD and were planning on doing so but haven't really had the chance nor gumption to fire up Disney+ and watch it, there be spoilers ahead!

'They're The Clades'. This is a hit the ground running opening right here. An all-too-brief cel-shaded depiction of Jaeger Clade's adventures and exploits, and how his son Searcher was by his side but was never really the rough-and-tumble explorer type. The song would do the Mello Men proud, as it recalls the songs of various live-action adventure movies that Disney had made throughout the '50s. This whole movie, if it wasn't clear before, is a massive homage to that era of adventure stories. The scene alone is evoking an early-to-mid 20th century pulp comic. Also during this sequence, we see these really lovely paintings of the Clades on their adventures. Particularly the visuals of them encountering birds of prey and a bear. It hits all those classic wilderness aesthetics in mere seconds flat.

Avalonia itself is actually quite a cool-looking world. It being on the back of a giant turtle-like beast swimming around on an all-water planet is very much Terry Pratchett's DISCWORLD, but being someone who lived the early 2000s as a kid, it also struck me as very BIONICLE. Hey, did you know Walt Disney Animation Studios was looking to option DISCWORLD for an adaptation of MORT? That was to be Ron Clements and John Musker's movie after THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG, but due to rights issues, that fell through, and they ended up pitching other ideas that would later morph into MOANA.

Continued, Avalonia in the post-Pando era: The retrofuture setting, the sortakinda steampunk-like aesthetic, very TREASURE PLANET in some ways. The graphic design recalled various decades of aesthetics of the 20th century, too. Some '30s and '50s touches on Callisto Mal's ship, the Venture, subtle and neat stuff. Loved the architecture, technology, and cruisers. The cruisers, especially the one the Clade family uses to dust the crops, in particular reminded me of the hovercraft vehicles in the JAK & DAXTER series. That was another action-adventure franchise from the early 2000s that I was very much big on back in the day (and still am!).

Legend. Just Legend. He's literally one of my dogs, but in Disney animated form. Plus he's a tripod. Disabled rep, even for a doggie! It was also nice to see a shot of a disabled Avalonian, too.

Primal Outpost reminds me of game called Heroscape, which I remember being advertised a lot circa 2004... Though my 12-year-old self never played it or got invested in it, I thought it always looked cool. The hexagon pieces and such... But yes, I liked that a role-playing/strategy game played a part in this world, it just added a depth to it: This is a game that the kids/teens play. Today I learned that Heroscape ran from 2004 to 2010, and there was a failed revival somewhere down the line. I kinda wish STRANGE WORLD came out in 2004, this would've been my *shit*. Big time.

The lighting choices are what really make the "strange world" pop. The subtle sunset-like oranges and pinks, the misty-like layers, really brings out a lovely look to everything.

There's a particular shot when the Venture is crash-landing while careening into the insides of the Avalonia turtle-beast-creature... Searcher and Legend drop off as the ship is still speeding, it's a particularly well-done shot.

What little there is of the vibe - both good and bad - between Callisto Mal and Meridian Clade, particularly when it shows up during their confrontation in the Venture cockpit.

Right before Ethan meets Splat in that cave of bioluminescent creatures, some of them are apparent in a few frames: They look kind of like glass vases with fireflies inside of them. A small but cool detail, and the framerate on them is much slower.

Splat slapping Ethan when you think they're going to do the HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON-esque connect-with-each-other moment, a well-timed send-up of those kinds of person-and-creature scenes.

The Clade men playing Primal Outpost is a standout scene to me, and I absolutely love the jab at the well-repeated "criticism" that Disney animated movies don't work without traditional bad guy villains in them.

How Searcher and Jaeger can't get the handshake/gestures right, they're preemptively doing a different one. It's a fun little character beat for both of them.

Everything about the much healthier insides of the beast after the heart is restored. A colorful, near-psychedelic set of images.

[nifaswriting]

Hey there u cutie :3 I came across your blog and I totally fell for your writing 💞 Can I request something for Smoker? Modern AU Headcanons or the "Love with XX is..." would be awesome! Please choose what you are more comfy with. Have a wonderful day 💕

Hello there, beloved ! Your request made my day, I'm very happy to know you enjoy my writing ! I hope you'll like this as well ♥

I chose the modern au because I got inspired, but you'll probably see the "love with" serie with Smoker at some point 'cause this man has me on chockhold, it's not even healthy...

Anyway, enjoy the little headcanons and have an amazing day as well ! ♥

P.S. : I made this waaaaay longer than expected haha ! Also, slight TW for mention of injuries, nothing bad don't worry, just thought I would put it, just in case ♥

Smoker modern AU headcanons :

To start somewhere, I strongly believe Smoker used to be in the army when he was younger, probably around his early/mid-twenties or something

His long life dream since he was a little kid was to serve his country and bring some kind of justice to this world he thought was way too unfair sometimes

But my thoughts is that he got involved into some traumatic near-death experience (more than likely the day he got that big scar on his face) at the beginning of his thirties

The recovering process was painful, yet his not-so-infamous will made it a little eaiser for him to endure

It also helped that he met you at that time : you quickly became his anchor when he felt like his determination was slipping through his fingers during hardest times

After everything got better for him, Smoker decided to quit the army to be able to start a long life with you by his side ♥

Back to the present we go !

Smoker now works for some kind of big lawyer company, either as a lawyer himself or as one of the big heads

He found in this new job a way to accomplish his dream while also trying to balance work and private life

Emphasize on trying...

This man works A LOT and he works so hard all the time it's giving him grey hair

Haha, get it ? Because his hair's white and stuff...

Most of the time, he comes home later than he first intended to

"I'll be back around eight tonight." is what he texts you, but you know he won't be there until 10pm or even later sometimes

And when he gets home, you're almost always already asleep because, as much as you love him, you too need your daily rest

Honestly, he can't blame you, and deep inside, he feels horrible that he's not spending enough quality time with you at home

Same goes for mornings : he gets up very early and usually you're still sleeping, so he just gets ready in silent, kisses you softly and leaves without a noise

Luckily for you, there are times when he's not so busy and you bet he's going to spend every single free minutes he's got with you, either at home or by taking you out

Nothing is too much when it comes to you, and somehow he loves spoiling you just a little bit when he has the chance

You want to try that new restaurant you saw on your way to work ? He's already booking a table for you both. You need new shoes or new clothes ? He's taking you on a shopping session. You want to stay home and cuddle him all day ? Watch a cheesy movie while eating take-out ? Fine by him, for your sake, he'll accept anything.

It's his way of showing you how much he cares despite not being there a lot

Such a sweet man ♥

Please though, if he's in one of his busy periods and you get the chance, visit him at work, he'll be the happiest man in the world

He doesn't look like it, his face remaining neutral the all time if not for the slightest of smiles curling the corner of his lips, but the moment he sees you walking past his office's door, his frown softens

It immediately lightens his mood and makes his day 100 times better

Bonus if you brings him something he enjoys like his favorite food/snacks or flowers (yes, he loves flowers, who would have thought ?)

On rare occasions, when both your schedules allow it, he offers you to eat lunch together, either at one of your workplaces or at a restaurant

Sometimes, your coworkers or Tashigi join you two intentionally and Smoker gets all grumpy because they're interrupting his precious alone time with you

Please, when it's just you two afterwards, give him a big kiss to get rid of his bad mood before returning to work, it'll help him feel better ♥

He's in fact just a big busy baby man, but you love him and he loves you dearly

[alwritey-aphrodite]

A Cat Named Bee

Chapter 8 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: can you tell I like when cats do that nuzzling thing?

It seems strange to you how strange normal life feels. You always expect to hear your friends busy in the kitchen when you wake up, to see them first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Only after a week living together, it seems odd to be apart.

Although, you really aren’t apart all that often. You and Rose work the same shifts at Maz’s more often than not, and Finn, Poe, and Rey come in at least once a week. The five of you always get together on Fridays, whether that’s at someone’s apartment, The Resistance, or somewhere else altogether.

And, you’re always texting each other throughout the week, so not a day goes by that you don’t talk to them at least once. But it really isn’t the same as being around them all the time. You’d been worried that they’d get sick of you, but you all seem to feel the same way: the more time you spend together, the more you want to be together.

You just keep finding more and more things to love about your friends. Sure, they have some negative qualities, all people do, but all in all they’re the best people you’ve ever met, and you’re thankful for them every day.

Even when Rose springs it on you that she’ll be gone for an entire week, off to visit with her family out of state.

So, not only will you have to brave all of your shifts alone, you won’t get to see her or Rey for an entire week. You can’t even remember a time when you weren’t spending at least five hours of your day with Rose.

But you know how excited she is to see her family in person after so long, and how excited she is to bring Rey home. You can’t help but smile whenever she talks about it.

You promise, or threaten, to send her updates every hour, and she responds by saying she’ll block your number. Knowing her, she’d do it. So instead, you just tell her to have fun and tell you all about it when she comes home.

The morning shifts go by so much slower without Rose to keep you company, even when Finn and Poe stop in to talk during your slow times.

“Just the three of us, huh?” Poe says, leaning his elbows onto the counter while you finish making their drinks. You ignore the wink Finn sends to you.

“You should stop by The Resistance later, annoy us while we work as much as we annoy you,” Finn adds, taking his to-go cup from you after placing a generous tip into the jar.

“Maybe I’ll make an appearance,” you reply with a shrug of your shoulders, as if it’s probable that you’d have any conflicting plans.

“We’ll see you later!” Poe shouts on his way out the door, letting you tend to the customers who arrived during the mid-morning rush while he and Finn were distracting you.

You spend your afternoon lazing around your apartment, staring at half-finished paintings with a brush in your hand before giving up and settling on the couch with a book, hoping that you’ll magically receive infinite inspiration.

When that doesn’t happen, you make yourself dinner and send Finn and Poe a text, confirming that you’ll be at The Resistance later. When they text you back, they try to upstage each other on the number of exclamation points they can send. You just watch the messages light up your phone screen with a smile on your face.

A few hours later, when you arrive at The Resistance, you find yourself a spot near the corner of the bar, and settle in for the night.

“Usual?” Finn asks as he slides over to you, your drink already half made.

“What if I said no?” You ask, with a nod of your head to the drink he's already placed in front of you.

“I would have given it to a customer who appreciates me,” he responds, ignoring your eye roll and heading off to tend to more of the customers leaning against the bar.

You don’t see Poe until a little while later, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up when he spots you after stepping out of the back office to help Finn behind the bar.

“Look who finally showed up,” he says in greeting as he steps behind the bar, working on refilling your empty glass.

“I got here on time, you should pay more attention,” you quip back, accepting your drink with a smile of thanks.

You spend most of the night by yourself, with Finn and Poe coming up to chat whenever they have some down time. It’s not until they’re practically closing that the three of you have a whole conversation, interrupted only by their shouts of goodbye to the customers heading home.

Once they’re all done cleaning up, you slip off your barstool and make your way towards the door, only to be stopped by both Finn and Poe.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Finn asks incredulously, pausing in his wiping of the bar top.

“Home?” You reply, but your confusion makes it seem like a question instead of a statement.

“Alone? Are you walking?” This time it’s Poe, organizing the space behind the bar that descended into chaos throughout the night.

“I was going to Uber.”

“By yourself? At one in the morning? No fucking way, Poe’ll drive you.”

You know they’re looking out for you, but you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Guys-“

“No arguing, Finn can finish up,” Poe already has his keys out and is shrugging on his coat, truly giving you no room to argue.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you buckle yourself in and Poe starts the car.

“It’s no problem, really,” he moves his hand off the gearshift, gently squeezing yours where it rests on your knee, and your body is full of sparks, “if you ever need anything, I’m always here.”

He says it with that signature smile that melts your insides to goo, so you only nod, even though he can’t see you. The rest of the ride is silent, in a comfortable way, only the gentle hum of the radio filling the car.

It’s over much too soon, and you linger a little too long outside of your building.

“Thanks again,” you say, leaning through the car door you’re still holding open, drawing out this interaction as much as possible.

“Like I said, not a problem.”

You’re turning and about to shut the door when you hear him clear his throat, so you turn back around and Poe looks like he’s about to say something. You raise an eyebrow in question, silently urging him on.

“Wanna get dinner tomorrow? Finn’s busy and it’s a Friday and that’s when we all do something together but everyone else is busy, so I thought-“

“That’s great,” you’re trying to play it cool, but you can feel your grin splitting your face apart, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

With that, you finally shut the door, and hope that he can’t see you silently celebrating as you walk up to your apartment.

Little do you know, he’s doing the same thing in his car.

As it turns out, the only thing Finn was busy doing was playing matchmaker. When you call him the next morning and ask what his plans are for the evening, you hear him chuckle to himself and immediately know he’s set this all up.

“You’re awful, did you know that?” You say through a smile, only making him laugh harder.

“You know you love me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Let me know how everything goes.” He’s barely containing his laughter, he’s just so proud of himself.

“I’m never speaking to you again.” That makes him cackle through your phone speakers, and you hang up without another word, not yet deciding if you’re going to be upset at Finn for setting you up.

You spend the day as an anxious mess, and nothing works to distract you. To try painting, reading, watching TV, taking a nap, and no matter what you do, you always end up thinking about Poe and overthinking what it’s going to be like to spend the entire evening together.

It’s not like you think he’s going to be rude or anything, you’re worried if you’re going to be able to control yourself and not let loose all the feelings you’ve been containing for months now. You’re practically a bundle of nerves the entire time you’re getting ready, and during the walk to Poe’s apartment, and by the time you’re knocking on his door, you’re sure you’re going to pass out.

You manage to stay upright when Poe opens the door, a broad smile on his face and a towel thrown over his shoulder. There’s a smear of flour across his nose that makes you fight the urge to gently wipe it away, and have your hand linger on his cheek.

“C’mon in!” Poe steps back, letting you enter into his space, “I tried to clean it up, but it’s still a bit cluttered. And dinner is almost done.”

You toe off your shoes before stepping deeper into his apartment, taking in all of his decor and furnishings.

“Wow, a chef and a bartender, what can’t you do?”

“Juggle.”

You snort, and it’s an ugly sound, but Poe breaks out in a grin while you shake your head at his joke, and you’d make that noise a hundred times if it means you can see that expression light up his face.

He goes back to cooking, frantically stirring at something simmering on the stove, while you take a peek at his kitchen and living room, looking through the items he has on his bookshelves and end table, the pictures he has framed and hanging on the walls.

There are pictures of him with Finn in front of jets, looking baby faced and bright eyed. There are pictures with him, Rey, and Rose, laughing around a table with a board game set up. There’s a picture of the five of you from your lake trip, and you can’t help the smile that grows on your face.

He had pictures with a man who you assume is his father, with the same nose and dark brown eyes, spanning from his childhood to what looks like a few months ago, in front of a large tree. He has older, weathered photos, with a smiling woman with curly hair and a curly haired baby on her lap. There’s a photo with him and an older woman, a different woman, with her grey hair in an elaborate braid.

You want to ask, want to sit and listen to him rememinse on every moment from the pictures, but you’re not sure how he’d react. The last thing you want is for the two of you to start growing close, only for you to ruin it by prying into his past.

While you have your dilemma, an orange and white cat winds itself around your legs, nuzzling its head as it goes.

“Oh, you must be the famed Bee,” you say to the animal, crouching down to give him a good scratch between his ears, delighting in the way he purrs and rubs against your hand.

You stay in your crouched position, cooing to the cat as he flips onto the ground, allowing you to pet him and making happy little noises as you do. Poe, for just a moment, stands in the entryway to the living room, smiling as he hears you speaking softly to Bee.

“Be careful, or you’ll inflate his ego,” he finally says, suppressing a chuckle as you jump in surprise.

“He deserves it, he’s adorable,” you reply, standing up, much to the protest of Bee, who meows loudly in an attempt to get you to stay.

As much as it pains you to leave the cat, you follow Poe back into the kitchen, Bee trailing behind.

“What can I help with?” You ask as Bee winds his way between your legs again, trying to get the attention back on him.

“Nothing, it’s almost done.”

“Then can I help set the table?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ sound. He truly is a headstrong, stubborn man.

So, you sit around and wait while Poe finishes up before plating the food and setting it on the table. It smells amazing, and you’re sure that it’s going to taste twice as good. Poe pours you a drink, and then you settle in at his cozy kitchen table.

You spend hours there, talking and talking about everything and nothing and all the things in between. You reminisce on your childhoods and cringe as you tell stories from high school and college, reliving your fondest memories.

You can’t remember a time in your life where you’ve talked with someone this much, where you don’t even realize the sky growing dark or the hours ticking by, you’re so enthralled with Poe and everything he had to say. Of course, he listens to you and your stories with just as much intensity, asking questions and humming along in all the right places.

At some point, you find yourself squished between him and the counter, helping him wash the dishes. He still insists that he wash and you dry, so he instructs you on where all of the dishes go. It feels intimate in an unexpected way, and it makes your heart thud against your ribs.

Though, you’re doing a much better job at keeping yourself together than you thought. You haven’t spilled your guts to the man yet, and it looks like you’re in the clear, as long as you remember how to breathe when he steps behind you to open up a cabinet and you can feel the warmth of his chest on your back, even through the layers of fabric that separate you.

It’s like he does it on purpose, acts all charming and lovely so you fall in love with him, and even though you know it’s not remotely true, that’s the only reason you can think of for why he’d torture you like this. Or, maybe, you’re being a bit dramatic and he’s just trying to put the dishes away.

Either way, he steps away all too soon, and you suddenly feel extremely cold without him pressed up against you.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” you blurt after a glance at the clock on his oven, worried you’d overstayed your welcome by about three hours.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he responds, looking confused until you jerk your heads towards the time flashing on his oven, nodding along as realization dawns across his face. “Well, now I’m sorry for keeping you here so late.”

It’s delivered with one of those classic Poe Dameron smiles that makes you weak in the knees, and you’re lucky you’ve got the sink at your back to support you.

“Alright, let me grab my keys,” he says, leaving no room for discussion as he turns away, heading towards his bedroom.

You shake your head, even though he can’t see you, and crouch down to give Bee some goodbye scratches. When you stand, he gently headbutts your leg, and your heart bursts at this adorable little animal. You see why Poe loves him so much.

When Poe comes back into the kitchen, you head towards his door and slip your shoes back on, waiting as he does the same. The two of you talk quietly as you make your way to his car, mindful of the late hour.

The conversation dies off into a comfortable type of quiet after Poe starts driving, and you almost think you could fall asleep like this, feeling warm and happy and safe. But, then Poe starts to talk, so you put off your nap for now.

“I’d let you watch him, next time I go out of town if you want.”

It seems random, out of the blue, but it makes your throat close up all the same. You remember the jokes about just how much Poe loved his cat, how he wouldn’t let anyone but Finn, Rey, or Rose pet sit for him.

You think you grasp his meaning, despite how well he thinks he’s hidden it.

“You’d trust me with your best friend?” Your voice is teasing, and your chest warms at the smile that graces his features.

“‘Course I would.” He’s pulling up to your building now, and you’d give anything to live in this moment for a little while longer. “Though he’s more of a handful than he seems.”

“Like you?” You ask, unbuckling and getting ready to bolt.

“Just like me.”

“No one’s just like you, Poe.” You say, voice going soft and tentative, “You’re one of a kind.”

You hope he grasps the meaning behind your words, while simultaneously praying he doesn’t.

“Goodnight, Poe.” You decide that no answer is better, so you hurry out and shut the car door without looking back at him, trying to walk to your apartment as calmly as possible, even though you’re rioting on the inside.

Your heart doesn’t stop pounding until you're laying in your bed, running through the night in your mind over and over, analyzing every single thing you’ve said. You aren’t sure how, but at some point, you fall asleep, still ruminating over every moment you’ve spent with Poe.

Tags: @aellynera @userspectors @andromeda-dear @dailyreverie @poopirate @luckynachos @creatively-analytical @stevenngrant @tiquinntheghost @fallinallinmendes @sabxism @ghostsongwriter-22