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ahgasegotarmy116 · 2 months

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Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part One

Summary: Some of your closest friends betray you and somehow push you into the arms of someone unsuspected. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 5.7k Warnings: Mentions of cheating resulting in pregnancy and explicit language...I think that's it lol (Barely edited per usual lmao) a/n: You guys seemed really excited for this fic so I'm gonna make it a miniseries since even the poll results were so close so anyways I hope you enjoy! Requested by the lovely @kkusadmirer 💜

"Is everything ready?" I ask my best friend Jina for the hundredth time today. "Yes y/n calm down. This party is going to be perfect don't worry" she says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes, making me even more apprehensive but decide it's best to just take her for her word instead of digging deeper.

"You're right, I should probably just go back upstairs and get ready huh?" I say and start heading upstairs to take the curlers out of my hair and finish up my makeup in her old bedroom. "Let me know if you need help, I'll just be putting the finishing touches on everything in the meantime" she calls after me and I respond with a quick 'okay' before running up the rest of the steps I had been ascending.

I walk down the hallway lost in thought and am stopped in my tracks when I find myself bumping into someone, almost falling over but he luckily catches me before I even have a chance to stumble back more than a few steps.

"Careful there" he teases and I look up and apologize immediately. "I'm sorry Mr. Jeon I wasn't watching where I was going" I say quickly and he smiles at my flustered state. "It's okay darling don't worry about it" he says in a deep tone that has always gotten to me. I take a quick step back to create some much needed distance and to cover up the awkwardness that had settled in.

"Thank you again for letting us hold our engagement party in your home. Are you sure you still don't mind?" I ask him as well for the hundredth time as if we had time to change things with mine and my fiancé's relatives already on the way.

"Y/n if I minded I would've said no a long time ago. Don't worry, I'd do anything for you, since you and Jared have been such amazing friends to my daughter. It truly means more to me than you know" he says placing his hand on my bicep to aide in showing his sincerity.

"Of course Mr. Jeon. Moving to a new state in the middle of your Sophomore year of college has gotta be difficult for anyone so I'm just happy we could be there for her" I say smiling up at him. He stares at me for a second, studying my features before breaking out of the slight trace he had caught himself in to continue the conversation.

"I'm sorry you're probably wanting to finish getting ready and I'm holding you up" he says taking his hand off of me and stepping aside so I can walk down the hallway to my intended destination.

"Don't worry about it. We've got plenty of time as it is so I'm in no rush. Thanks again Mr Jeon" I say, quickly wrapping up the conversation and walk into Jina's room. Before I'm able to close the door though he makes it a point to remind me of something I've always forgotten.

"Haven't we agreed upon calling me Jungkook? Mr. Jeon makes me feel so old" he teases and we both laugh at his words. "Thank you, Jungkook" I say and he smiles, satisfied with the change. "You're welcome" he replies with an heir of sensuality that leaves my brain buzzing and I close the door before either of us has the chance to say another word.

He's always made me nervous but why does today feel different? It's not like his playful nature is anything new. He's acted like this since the first day I met him and when I had brought it up to Jina she just said he was being friendly so I never really gave it a second thought.

There's no denying he's a handsome man and from what I can tell him and his ex wife had Jina when they were quite young so he's not anywhere near old enough to make it seem a bit strange but I tend to just deal with the butterflies by ignoring them as much as I can.

He makes sure to be respectful when Jared's around and he hasn't crossed any lines to my knowledge so I don't mind it. It makes me feel confident more than anything and I don't think there's anything wrong with that.

I shake off those thoughts and finish getting ready before I start to panic about being late and end up finishing up a lot sooner than I had planned and as I'm putting on my heels I hear a faint knock at the door.

"Come in" I call out and my fiancé pops his head in from behind the door. "Aw I thought I would catch you while you were changing" he says with a fake pout leaving me smiling and shaking my head at him. "You'll get to do that plenty of times once we're married you pervert" I tease and he scoffs playfully.

"You know, now that I think about it I kind of am a pervert aren't I?" he says while stalking towards me, making my breath hitch and my adrenaline start pumping but I have to tell myself to calm down before I do anything stupid. "After the wedding I warn and he backs off like he always does.

I smile and get up from the bed I had been sitting on and give him a quick kiss but he holds onto the back of my neck, keeping me there for a little while longer and deepening the kiss. "You look gorgeous" he whispers against my lips and I smile before giving him a quick peck and pulling back to look at him.

"You don't look half bad yourself" I taunt and he scoffs before granting me a sarcastic 'thank you'. "I'm kidding baby you look handsome as always" I say and he smiles at that and places a quick kiss on my cheek before taking my hand and leading me downstairs to where we're met with a few of our family and friends having already arrived.

"You should've told me they were here sooner" I whisper to him while I wave at them as we walk downstairs. "I didn't want to rush you" he replies, giving my hand a gentle squeeze leaving my heart fluttering at how thoughtful he had been.

"Thank you love" I say looking at him as if he's the only one I need. "For what?" he chuckles, studying my features almost as if he's committing them to memory. "For wanting to marry me" I say and he laughs at my cute sentiment. "Thank you for saying yes" he replies and at that we start mingling together throughout the crowd and thanking everyone for coming.

~~~~~

We part ways after a few more groups of people come in and around the time we're going to bring out the champagne I start to look around to see if I can find him so we can both be ready to make a toast once everyone's gotten a glass.

As I look around and ask a few people where he might be they point toward the far end of the house where not many people had wandered to and so I curiously make my way over to the room I had assumed he would be in but before I'm even able to put my hand on the door I hear the voices of not only Jared but Jina as well.

"We have to tell her" I hear her say and stop short, my heartbeat immediately raising as I hold my breath, waiting for the response. "You told me you were on the pill though. How did this happen?" and at that my heart breaks. "I don't know I guess I forgot to take a couple of them and-" "And so what? You decided that screwing me without protection would work out just fine? Fuck Jina" Jared cuts her off and I hold my hand over my mouth to stop the sobs that I know are sure to come.

"You were the one that said you wanted to stop using them" she defends. "Oh and so now it's my fault. Jina we both agreed to that and you know it" he says and at that the room falls silent for a moment before he speaks up again.

"What are we gonna do?" he mumbles, leaving the choice in her hands. "We need to tell her because I'm not getting rid of this baby. I don't care if you're going to be in our kid's life or not but either way we're telling her" she says, standing firm on what she thinks is right. 'She should've thought about that before she started fucking my boyfriend' I think to myself and wait for the conversation to continue.

"She deserves to know" she says in a hushed tone and they both agree moments later that they'll tell me after the party to avoid both of our families catching wind of it and at that I walk away as quietly as I can, heading to the bathroom across the house to collect myself before I even try to face anyone.

'How the fuck could they do this to me? How could they do this to us? Did everything the three of us did together really not matter? All of this love that I gave Jared and he gave me made me feel like we were gonna last forever but I guess my wants and needs weren't enough for him. He wanted what he wanted and found that in my best fucking friend.

I chuckle dryly at that thought and how ironic it sounds at the moment. The wants to avoid the drama of the rest of the family knowing? Well they don't have that kind of luxury anymore.

I collect myself a few moments later and make my way out of the bathroom to intermingle again until I happen upon my soon to be ex fiancé in the crowd.

"Hey honey" I say and I can see him trying to hold back the guilt at my words and I hold back from ripping his head off for the sake of what I'm about to do. "Should we go ahead and bring out the champagne and make a toast?" I ask and he nods his head agreeing wordlessly.

"Great I'll ask Jina to help us out" I say and I can see how stiff his whole body becomes after I mention her name and he laughs it off and walks closer to me and I hold out my hand for him and guide us both over to where we've placed everything for the toasts.

~~~~

"Does everyone have a glass?" I call out and everyone says yes and Jina makes her way around, filling everyone's glasses but her own. "Okay great Jina go ahead and grab a glass and then if you guys don't mind we'd like to pose a toast!" I say and everyone places their full attention on both Jared and I who are standing side by side.

I watch as Jina tentatively fills her glass half full knowing full well that she won't be drinking any of that but I singled her out as a way to make her even more uncomfortable. Serves her right honestly but it's only just begun.

"Okay everyone, firsts things first I would just like to thank all of you for coming. It is just so wonderful we could all gather here together and the fact that you all made the effort to come and celebrate Jared and I is just something that I won't ever forget so thank you again from the bottom of my heart" I say and hear murmurs of 'You're welcome's and 'Thank you for inviting us' throughout the crowd and I continue on after those die down.

"Another person I would like to thank would be my best friend who I couldn't have any of this without her including being able to host this party in her's and her father's wonderful home so thank you both for that" I continue and I look for Jungkook in the crowd and see him raising his glass to me and I turn my attention to Jina moments later and see the forced smile on her face and I smile back at her and take a deep breath before continuing.

"You know Jina has been such a great friend to both Jared and I and the countless memories we've made together are something that I'll always hold close to my heart. One memory in particular is one that I think we'll all remember for the rest of our lives is one that I would like to share with you all" I say and I watch as Jared and Jina make nervous glances at each other but I hear the room fill with words mentioning how cute our friendship is and how it's nice to have close friends that get along. Oh boy they're about to know just how well we all get along.

"This one actually just happened not too long ago, in fact it was just today wasn't it guys?" I say making eye contact with the both of them and I can see as both of them realize that they've been caught.

"Yeah it's funny I was looking for Jared not too long ago to try to find where he had scurried off to and low and behold I found him and Jina having a cute little chat together just over there" I say and motion to the secluded part of the house where they had been and I see the crowd go from happy to confused.

"They had been talking about how they had a surprise and they needed to tell me after the party but I figured that I would just give them an opportunity to say it now so all of us can hear it together. Would you guys like to share it with everyone?" I ask the two of them and wait a few moments before Jared tries to shut me down.

"I think that's probably a conversation we should have in private right Jina?" Jared says, pleading with her to back him up. "Oh are you guys too shy? Don't worry I can say it" I counter, brushing him off. "Y/n I don't really think that's necessary" Jina now tries to reason with me but I'm way too far gone by now.

"Why not? Doesn't everyone deserve to know that you're pregnant" I say, pausing for the rest of the family to smile at the surprise and some of them start to congratulate her but before they can get too far I continue on.

"Yeah she's pregnant with Jared's baby! Isn't that so sweet?" I say and at that point the room goes so silent you would hear a pin drop and I break it by continuing to rub salt into the wound.

"I know right? It's so crazy isn't it? It was a surprise to me too. Congratulations to the both of you" I say and down my drink while they stand there speechless as does the rest of the crowd.

"So yeah anyways thank you all so much for coming and get home safe!" I say and make an exit into the backyard while Jared and Jina chase after me.

"Y/n, y/n wait. Please" Jina calls after me first, following as I make my way over to the clearing behind the house and away from prying eyes. "Why should I wait huh? It's not like you waited and thought 'Hey maybe it's not the best idea to be raw doggin my best friend's boy friend' or were you guys still fucking by the time you asked me to marry you?" I ask the two of them and they both just stand there in silence.

"You know what, you guys are perfect for each other. The whore I thought was my best friend and the whore who chased after her because neither of you could keep it in your pants. Thanks a lot, have a nice life" I say and storm off into the small clearing behind Jungkook's house, praying they won't follow me.

"Oh and another thing" I say before walking too far, "I'm keeping the ring to compensate for emotional damage you bastard" I spit at my ex and his jaw drops, never having heard words like that come out of my mouth ever let alone directed at him.

"Baby wait I can explain" he says trying a pathetic excuse of trying to get me to get him to hear him out. "Pretty sure I heard everything I needed to hear when you were having your little rendezvous earlier" I say, fully admitting to listening in on their conversation.

"If I never see either of you again it'll be too soon" I say and continue on into the clearing, walking just far enough to be out of their view. "We really fucked up didn't we?" I hear Jina say and soon hear Jared scoff in return. "We fucked up? No you fucked up! You should've been more responsible" he throws back at her and storms off. "What the fuck Jared don't you dare walk away from me" she yells and chases after him, following him back into the house.

After taking a few deep breaths and convincing myself over and over again that this is for the best and I'm better off without them I slowly make my way back into the yard and sit on the bench that's furthest away from everything, hoping no one finds me out here. Luckily it does the trick and I'm able to avoid facing anyone from the party and soon hear all of their cars leaving and the place falls silent.

"They're all gone now if you want to come inside" Jungkook says, walking over to me tentatively, making sure he doesn't do something to make me run off. I look up at him with a tear streaked face and try to smile but ultimately end up hanging my head, hiding what little emotions I've let myself show and he walks over and sits on the far side of the bench I'm on. He doesn't say anything, he just sits with me and lets me ride the wave of emotions I'm feeling but also letting me know he's there if I need him.

I let out a few shaky breath after having let a few more tears fall before collecting myself and drying my eyes. "I'm sorry" I whisper and he turns towards me with a confused look on his face. "Whatever for?" he questions, puzzled as to why I could possibly be apologizing.

"For the show I put on back there. I was just so mad when I overheard them talking and I don't know, I felt like I wanted to humiliate them since they decided to fuck behind my back like how fucked up can you be to sleep with your best friend's boyfriend?" I spout off and then look over and remember who I'm talking to.

"I- I didn't mean. I'm sorry Mr. Jeon" I apologize again and hang my head in shame. I'm met with a chuckle as a response and when I look up at him I can see that he's clearly very amused. "What's so funny?" I question and he continues to laugh.

"I'm sorry darling, just seeing how horrified you looked when you remembered that you were talking shit about Jina to her father was kind of hilarious and honestly adorable" he chuckles and I let out a breath and smile at him, happy he wasn't offended by it.

"I wasn't thinking straight, I'm sorry" I apologize again, feeling so so guilty for bringing all of this drama to his house. "Hey, you have nothing to apologize for" he says softly, placing his hand on top on mine. The one that happens to be sitting on my thigh and I gulp at the sight of his big hand enveloping the sight of my hand and now has his fingers resting high up on the inside of my thigh.

"It's not your fault that they're both fucked up and you got caught in the crossfire okay? So please don't apologize about that again" he says and I nod my head mindlessly, my eyes still focused on the hand that is now squeezing my thigh in reassurance but I can't get past the feeling of having his hands on me like this.

He stands up a second later, taking his hand off of me and I look up at him, almost as if questioning why he stopped and he simply smiles at my cute reaction. "Let's head inside alright? It's gonna start getting cold out here soon" he says and I nod my head, wordlessly following him back into his home.

"Did you want a drink?" he asks and I jump at the opportunity. "Yeah I'll just take this" I say while grabbing one of the barely opened champagne bottles. "Did you want a glass?" he chuckles, watching as I take a big gulp out of the bottle. "No need, this is fine. Might as well not let it go to waste right?" I say and he hums in acknowledgement while poring himself a drink.

I walk around his living room and take in everything about it, reminiscing about all the memories and shared laughter there had been here over the last couple of years and find my mind wandering a bit. "I'm really gonna miss this place" I say, meaning to keep it to myself but accidentally voicing it loud enough for Jungkook to hear as well.

"You're welcome to come back here anytime you'd like" he replies, startling me when I realize he's gotten closer and is now sitting on the couch directly behind where I stand, facing the mantle and looking at the various pictures placed on it. Pictures of Jina, Jared and I over the years, ones that no doubt Jungkook had taken.

"I always hated this picture" I say mindlessly and I hear him get up off the couch so he can see which one I'm referring to. "Oh the one where I took all of you to the beach house a few years ago for your birthday? Why? Didn't you have fun?" Jungkook questions, genuinely surprised with my reaction to it.

"No it's not that, I had a great time. I just feel like I look like a wet dog in that picture" I admit and I'm granted with a little chuckle beside me. "Hey" I whine and glance over at him, my breath hitching when I realize just how close he's gotten.

"You know what? Now that I think about it I don't really like that picture either" he says and I turn my body to fully face him, highly offended and demanding he explain himself. "I didn't like the way that Jared was touching you that day. He couldn't keep his hands off you and I know that it was making you uncomfortable" he says, lowering his voice an octave and causing a shiver to run through my body.

"How did you-" "When a man really pays attention and cares for you he can tell from the slightest change how their woman is feeling. I guess he just never got the memo" he says, glaring at Jared in the picture and how he unashamedly has his hand placed directly on my ass while I'm wearing a swimsuit that I had already felt uncomfortable in in the first place.

My mind goes into overdrive with what those words could've possibly meant. 'Was he paying that close of attention to me that he noticed something small like that? Has he been jealous of Jared? Does he care for me?' are just some of the questions that start swirling around in my brain and before I can register what had happened next he's gone and sat on the couch and is suggesting I come sit down as well.

"You've had a long day don't you think?" he asks and I nod my head and sit on the other side of the couch making sure to keep proper distance between us. "Yeah I guess you could say that" I chuckle dryly and take a drink from the champagne bottle I still have in my hand but end up spilling it on myself.

"Shit" I say and Jungkook quickly grabs a napkin to help clean up having spilled some on the couch as well. "I'm sorry" I apologize, constantly finding more and more reasons to apologize and he shuts me down again. "A little champagne never hurt anybody don't worry about it" he says, brushing it off and leaving me feeling a little less guilty.

"Why don't I grab you a glass and give you some of my clothes to wear so if we have another little mishap it won't be as big of a deal" he offers and before I can refuse he's already given me a glass and is halfway up the stairs. Gosh my brain really must be working in slow motion already.

~~~~~

After Jungkook gives me a big t shirt and sweats I change into them and tie the drawstring tight to aide in keeping the pants up and look in the mirror of the bathroom I had been changing in and realize how much of a mess I look like right now with smudges of mascara under my eyes and my nose all red from all of the crying I had been doing earlier.

I quickly wash and dry my face and throw my hair up and out of the way since at this point theres no saving this look and just accept defeat, walking out in my now more casual look and find him sporting an almost identical one.

"Feel better?" he asks and I nod my head and walk towards where he's standing. "Come here" he says holding out his arm and pulling me into a hug. I melt in his embrace and almost start tearing up a bit again, but push back a little and softly break apart from his embrace before the two of us sit down.

"I don't know how to feel honestly. I feel angry and sad and betrayed and relieved and heart broken and I don't know. I'm just confused" I start and he nods his head, encouraging me to continue and so I do.

"We've been together since before Jina and I had ever met and things had always been so good between us and then when Jina came along it felt like things had gotten even better if that's makes sense. We had our three amigos group going and whenever we were together it felt like the rest of the world didn't matter. Or I guess at least that's how I felt" I say and take a shaky breath in and out before preparing to say the next part.

"When Jared and I got together, I told him right off the bat that I wanted to save myself for marriage and he respected that. I will admit that we both had gotten close to breaking that boundary I set once or twice but he always backed off when I asked him to and I was thankful for that. Guys my age or guys in general don't really respect that sort of outlook anymore so the fact that he was more or less willing to date me after knowing that gave me hope for us" I say, letting everything off my chest.

I down my glass and pour myself another one before continuing on and I take into account that he's watching my every move. "I figured 'If he had a problem with it and got tired of it then he would've dumped me' or 'He's had really good self control all of these years so that must mean there's something special between us'. So when he asked me to marry him I said yes without thinking twice. I had my knight in shining armor, the one who waited for me and I couldn't be happier" I scoff, taking another gulp of champagne.

"Looks like he waited to have me but got someone else to fulfill his needs on the side" I mumble and down the rest of my glass before pouring another and I can see the concern in Jungkook's eyes growing but I pay no mind to it.

"You know after all that I just can't help but wonder 'Was it all worth it? Was saving myself and in the end losing the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with worth it?' At this point my virginity is becoming more of a hassle than anything and honestly I don't want it anymore" I say, finally voicing how I had been feeling about keeping myself pure for a while.

"I feel like it would be best if I just got it over with and went on with my life you know?" I say, finally looking at Jungkook and I can see how dilated his pupils are and how ragged his breath has gotten, doing a horrible job at concealing it.

"Can I ask you something Mr. Jeon?" I question, leaning towards him, a new gained confidence flowing through me from all the alcohol that I had consumed in such a short time. Downing glass after glass throughout our whole evening. "Jungkook" he rasps and I feel a fluttery feeling building in my stomach.

"I'm sorry, I always seem to forget. Jungkook, can I ask you something?" I repeat placing my hand on his thigh, feeling the muscle tense up at the contact but he nods nevertheless and waits for me to continue. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?" I question, wondering what his experience might've been like.

"Um, when I was about eighteen I guess. It was right before I graduated high school" he answers truthfully and I nod my head, mulling over what I plan to say next.

"It seems like a man of your age has had his fair share of sex am I right?" I ask and see him gulp at my assumption. "I guess you could say that" he responds and leans back a bit when I get closer. "Mr. Jeon do you have a girlfriend right now? Someone you might be seeing?" I ask, making sure that in my tipsy state I won't make the same mistake my hopeless excuse of a best friend and ex made.

"No, I uh I'm not seeing anyone" he says quickly and I nod my head and wait a moment to get my words together. "Do you think you would mind taking my virginity?" I ask and at that his jaw drops, not expecting to be asked something like that straight away but in this state I guess you could say I'm full of surprises.

"I- What?" he asks, confused and concerned as to if I actually meant what I said and not only that but clarifying to make sure he's heard me right. "I'm asking you if you would take my virginity. You said you'd do anything for me remember?" reminding him of his words from earlier in the day.

"Y/n I think you might've had a little bit too much to drink" he says scooting back from me to create some distance but I close that distance moments later. "No I'm fine, I haven't even had that much silly" I say, slowly starting to slur my words but still conscious enough to make them coherent.

"Look I think that's something you should keep until you have a chance to give it to someone special. Someone who you care about and cares about you too" he says, trying to softly reject me but it falls of deff ears.

"I care about you though. Don't you care about me?" I pout and he shakes his head and tries hard to hide a smile but fails. "Of course I care about you darling but I think you're too confused and too drunk to be making this sort of decision" he say holding my shoulders at arms length to keep me from getting any closer to him.

"It's okay Mr. Jeon I know what I'm doing. Oh! I mean Jungkook" I say cutely, leaning in a bit more and his arms give in, letting me get a bit closer so as to not harm either one of us. "Don't worry I won't tell Jina" I say and he clears this throat at the sound of his daughter's name.

"Y/n I really don't think this is a good idea" he says, watching almost helplessly as I place my hand on his shoulder and use it to anchor myself as I climb onto his lap and although his words have said otherwise, his hands are the ones that guide me by my hips to sit on his lap, giving me a boost of confidence in my decision.

"Can you do this for me?" I ask and his eyes ping pong between mine, seeing how blown out my pupils are and notices how hot my skin has become. He stays silent and just takes in all of my features and waits for my next move. I lean in closer to him and run my fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck.

"Just take it" I say against his lips and without a seconds hesitation he grabs the back of my head and smashes his lips against mine.

It's a mess of lips and tongue and teeth, accompanied by the sound of him groaning and pulling me closer and me moaning at the feeling of being desired by someone like him. Someone strong and confident and undeniably sexy. Someone who wants me just as much as I want him but before I can fully grasp what's about to happen I feel myself slipping away and lose control of my body.

"Y/n?" Jungkook questions feeling my body slump against him after I had broken the kiss and rested my head on his shoulder. He smiles at the realization that I had fallen asleep in the midst of it all and wordlessly stands up, carrying me off into the guest bedroom and laying me down to sleep there for the night.

"Goodnight darling" he says, placing a kiss on my forehead before walking out of the room and slowly closing the door behind him.

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ikarakie · 1 year

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what if they won? what if steve was trying to get the injured eddie out of the upside down as the gates were sewing themselves back up again? what if he knew that not everyone could get out safely, so he sends robin and nancy through. then he sends them eddie and hoists dustin after him and by the time everyone else is through, he knows there's no time.

dustin screams. he curses him out and sobs as the gate closes between them. steve promises it'll be fine, just take care of eddie, he'll be fine, but they both know he can't know that. robin looks so betrayed, so heartbroken, he can't bear to meet her eyes. just looks to the floor and tries to tune out their pleads until the gate's shut for good and he's all alone.

maybe he hadn't really thought it through. just figured his chances were better on this side than trying to squeeze through an actively closing gate and possibly being torn in half between worlds. decided that, out of all of them, he was the one who deserved to go back the least. they all had families that actually cared, that were waiting for them. they had each other, and soon enough they'd forget about him. it was all for the best.

but it still hurt. he still sat in the upside down version of eddie's trailer and wept. wished to tell dustin he loved him like a little brother, wished to kiss robin on her head one more time, wished to know if max was okay, wished that he and eddie could've become real, proper friends.

wished to know if there was something else eddie had wanted to tell him before they split off. if he'd misread things, especially after he'd pushed so hard for him and nancy to get back together. but none of that mattered anymore, because he was stuck here now.

after a few hours of crying and wallowing he gets his ass up and decides he's gonna at least try to survive for a while. he decides to stay in eddie's trailer. doesn't feel like he could make it to his own house, and doesn't even think he wants to. though he does trek to the nearest convenience store (and cries there, too, because he remembers bringing max and the kids here for snacks so many times). picks up whatever non-perishable food he can carry and then holes up.

he thinks of little will byers. cries some more, for him. so small, all alone in this place. how strong he was, how he was braver than steve ever would be, even at his young age. thinks he'd like to tell him that, if he ever could.

he's not sure how long passes. maybe days, maybe weeks. not like it's easy to tell how time goes down here. he would say he lost hope, but he never really had any hope to lose. he never intended for anyone to come and get him, made his peace with the fact he'd die here when he watched the ceiling gate close back up again. it's pathetic, how he mopes around and sits in a single spot for days on end. staring at the walls, not moving a muscle.

that's how she finds him. when he hears the door to the trailer jiggle, he just sort of thinks: ah, this is it. something's come for me. wonders if his parents will come to his funeral, if he even gets one.

it slams open. he doesn't even turn his head, doesn't want to know what it is that'll have him. just closes his eyes and waits, listens as it quietly comes towards him. crouches between his legs and- and takes his hands- what-

"steve." he opens his eyes and the floodgates start up again because it's el. her hair's buzzed again, which breaks his heart because he'd been the one to show her how to take care of it when she was growing it out. knew how proud she was of how long it'd gotten. but she's smiling so brightly, like she's won the lottery.

"el?" he asks, and he's shocked at how broken he sounds. "why are you here?"

"i have come to take you home." she says, rather matter of factly, leaving exactly zero room for argument. there's a fierce determination in her eyes, and she squeezes both of his hands.

but it's so dangerous here, he wants to say, you could've gotten hurt. why go through all of that for me?

and maybe she's been hiding mind reading powers from them, because she adds, "everyone misses you. i would have come sooner, but it took a while to get back to hawkins." then, she smiles. "i think they would have found a way even if i didn't, though."

it's like it all hits him at once. they've missed him. they've all been... looking for ways to come get him, this whole time. however long it's been. they didn't just forget about him like he wanted expected. the very idea suddenly seems so silly.

he takes a shaky breath. "well, in that case, let's not keep them waiting, yeah?" she smiles, big and happy, and nods.

part 2

#PART 2 EDDIE POV COMING SOON #stranger things #prompt #steve harrington #imagine #steddie #stranger things prompt #eddie munson #steddie prompt #steve and eddie #steddie fic #steddie hc #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington ficlet #steve and el

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vyriadurav · 7 months

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(Edit: using this as a pinned post about all my books for now in lieu of another one. This was formerly for International Lesbian Day but now is a one stop shop for all my books) For starters, consider checking out

Catnip Amazon | Itch.io | Alternative Ebook Sellers | Audiobook For all his life, Sol has believed he's only worthy of affection as long as he's useful--and he intends to prove his ultimate use by restoring a colony on Venus as a new home for his friends and lovers. But upon arriving, he realizes there's more here than he bargained for. For one, the resident artificial intelligence wants to make friends with him. For another, the nanites want to completely change his body... and in the process reveal her true self. Stuck (or perhaps blessed?) with a new form, she must find out what it means to live, to be loved for who she is rather than her work. Catnip is a cozy space exploration novel about a trans woman's journey to find herself and what it means to be loved for who she is, with the help of her polycule and a lesbian AI. If Sci-fi isn't quite your speed, you can also check out

The Hatchling Amazon | Itch.io | Alternative Ebook Sellers

Sarric dreamed of dragons all his life; such flights of fancy captured his imagination at a young age and sustained him through the cruelty of the hunters that ruled the isolated mountain town of Rivermist. One day, a real dragon appears before him, dazzling him with her beauty and an answer to the unease that's afflicted him for as long as he remembers. He's eager to take what she offers--but the greedy hunters, driven by tales of treasure hoards, will do everything in their power to destroy her. The Hatchling is a fantasy about a trans woman's journey of accepting her identity and her new found family.

If you want something a little spicier, consider reading Wyrmheart Itch.io exclusive

A mage without home or family seeks to establish a legacy for herself so that her name might ring out through the ages.

An assassin is charged with striking at the heart of a draconic cult that surely hides some greater evil.

Wyrmheart is a story set in Maria Ying's Those Who Break Chains universe and tells the story of trans women making their way through life in this fantastical world.

You can also take a look at my Patreon where I am currently writing several things, but primarily

Forged in the Light of New Stars

Forged is a t4t lesbian isekai story about a closeted trans woman and a repressed, rotten egg (in the trans sense) who find themselves transported to a vibrant, magical world filled with advanced technology, mysteries to discover, and most importantly: a place where they can their truest selves. Follow Gwen as she strives to take control of her life, to be the woman she's always known she could be, and find true happiness.

Follow Brian as he struggles to cast off the chains that his family has bound him in, to undo the bigoted messages they poured into him constantly, and find out, deep down, who she truly is.

Watch them fall in love with each other and with the mystical world of Tellara and all the new friends they make along the way. See them uncover secrets about the connection between Earth and Tellara and their purpose as travelers between worlds. Magic, alchemy, and queerness collide in this otherworldly journey.

#t4t wlw #trans lesbian #transfem #trans author #wlw #original fiction #transfem author #Dragons #transhumanism #science fiction #fantasy #modern fantasy #isekai #portal fantasy #novel #polyamory #yuri #girls love

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obsessive-valentine · 5 months

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Are your request open? Can I request a sequel to Barbarian?

I know he's kind and everything but I don't think I could give in to him 100%, like yes, probably return the kindness but never love him. Reader feels a lot of guilt about the attack and I think that after the event and realizing that they didn't have much to do in the situation, they just felt numb about everything, living on autopilot except when they are with their dog.

This is just my interpretation and basically a self insertion sorry haha.

I would love to know about their daily lives! Does the barbarian take reader to war with him? (If you delve deeper into my idea) Would he realize that reader doesn't talk to him much? Would he be jealous of the dog?

Requests are always open, I love to hear about people’s thoughts on my silly little characters lol.

I did focus more on the barbarians perspective on the relationship rather the actual complexity of the whole thing and psychological depth of it all, it was a rather shallow Drabble but I’d love to expand more on his character. I’ll see if I come up with any domestic short stories for him in the coming weeks, love that idea thanks :)

Yandere!Barbarian X GN!Reader Headcanons

The barbarian himself isn’t a good person, morally or in any other way, and he knows that. He understands what he’s done to you -pulled you away from everything you’ve ever known or loved leaving it all in tatters- he understands he’s killed innocent and guilty all the same and will continue to do so for the clan to thrive. And he doesn’t feel bad about any of it.

He definitely tries to sympathise with how his greed effects you, but, he doesn’t regret his actions but does understand to an extent how hard this is for you. This is why he tries to over compensate by gift giving and finding it within himself to be gentle and patient, so as not to damage you further (despite that being the polar opposite of how he was raised).

He’s not super emotionally intelligent so doesn’t really know what to do aside from the above. Anyone with common sense will learn fast that they can’t fight him off so it’s very possible to become numb and retreat into the mind. If you wont retreat into his arms he will try make it so you feel comfort in his tent that way you’re not always on autopilot but enjoying a craft or something in your quiet tent if even just for a hour.

Honestly though he doesn’t really mind if you’re on autopilot but does expect you to tolerate him, so if you are adamant on distance or fighting him you might trigger his temper. Like pulling and tugging you around, making you sleep in the same bed no exceptions, raising his voice to remind you who you’re trying to challenge etc.

A very tearful darling is a whole other situation, he cant stand seeing you cry, he’d be sobbing, crying, throwing up on the inside while trying to maintain a poker face and think up a solution.

Onto a lighter topic, the barbarians do move camp every few weeks and that includes reader (dont worry he never makes you walk) they don’t have a permanent home just their tents though our barbarian does intend to settle down at some point once the fighting becomes to much hassle for his ageing bones. But never once does he imagine bringing you into one of his raids, rebellions or battles.

He leaves you at camp with the members that aren’t participating that particular day (like the few women, elders or barbarians that just didn’t go-nobody’s forced to fight every battle, just to pull their weight). And of course your beloved wolf dog who he doesn’t regret, he doesn’t get jealous easily especially of the dog he got you for the soul purpose of cheering you up, if he can’t cheer you up at least the dog can and that’s a win in his books.

He’s really not high maintenance, as long as at the end of the day he load up your plate with his finest hunt and sit near you while you both eat, watching whatever fight breaks out in the clan from a safe distance before he has to eventually step in. There’s not much entertainment in the middle of the woods during the evening so you both take what you can get even if it’s drunken fight.

Maybe he takes you and the dog out for walks or fetch if it gets really boring at camp. Will bring you the best stick he finds for you to play fetch with the dog, he sees how much the dog means to you so he treats it with utmost respect. He’ll let you have control over this one little thing in your life for your own sakes.

Therefore while he would prefer you to love him truly, he doesn’t expect it (mostly because half the time he can’t tell the difference between your compliance and you showing affection), doesn’t stop him from trying though. He’s a saint compared to the barbarians before him... only for you though.

#Yandere barbarian #x reader #yandere #yandere oc

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wardenparker · 1 year

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Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 7

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: Explicit for violence Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Canon typical violence. WARNINGS CONTAIN SPOILERS! Kidnapping, torture, burning victim with cigarettes, broken bones, a whole lot of gun pointing and talk about murder, medicine by injection. Summary: When the divide between you and Jack becomes big enough that a well-intended question causes an explosion of anger, you decide to get out of dodge for a while. Unfortunately, this decision has consequences that neither of you could ever have anticipated. Notes: I cried writing it, I cried editing it, I cried putting this post together. Consider yourselves warned.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

It's been a month and Jack Daniel's is a miserable fucking bastard. You've been told about the marks being detrimental to his job and refuse to get rid of the tattoo or the scars. Claiming that it wasn't your problem, and he considers that to be true, even if it pisses him off because he can't escape you. Stuck here at Statesman and being a firsthand witness to you dating. He swears he's seen half a dozen different men picking you up from your cabin and every goddamn time his stomach churns with jealousy until there's nothing left to do except get blindingly drunk.

There have been good days and bad ones, of course. You and Jack don’t ignore each other but you don’t ever do anything more intimate than having an occasional drink or taking a break from your day to have lunch together if he stops by the restaurant. Your staff has been hired and menu set, interior painted and linens picked out. Now that opening is just a few weeks away, it’s about finalizing and finesse, and your staff has been amazing.

The dating has been…touch and go. You had gone out with Ginger’s brother Lewis on almost every night of his visit, enjoying each other’s company much more than you had expected. Apparently he was just getting out of a relationship and had accepted Diana’s attempt to fix the two of you up gratefully. Without any kind of stress as to whether or not the relationship would be perfect – or even lasting – you and Lewis were able to have fun and relax on the nights you went out together.

With Jack not wanting to have anything romantic to do with anyone else especially and including you, you had no reason to say no to most of the invitations you got after that. A concert or a dinner or a movie or a special event - they were all nice things and the men were equally nice about half the time. Sometimes they stayed over and sometimes they didn’t, but none of them ever saw you more than twice. The guilt and the regret would creep in, reminding you that you have a soulmate and that he’s a good man, even if the two of you are at odds. The fact of the matter is, even with the casual and extremely platonic time that you spend with Jack, you do find yourself falling for him a little more every day. Whether that’s because you’re bound to him or because you just do love him, you really can’t be sure. And it wouldn’t do you any good to say anything anyway. So you do what Statesman employees do best and drink away the guilt.

******

Jack sighs, rolling his shoulders back before he opens the door to his house and steps outside to face the day. This time of year seems to weigh heavily on him and it doesn't help that he had watched you disappear into your cabin with some man last night while he sat on his porch. Not seeing either one of you emerge when he had finally gone to bed well after midnight.

Catching sight of Jack as you leave your house in the morning isn’t uncommon, but today when you do, guilt pools deep in your gut. Waking up with someone other than your soulmate is a special kind of self-torture, and the green-eyed, blonde-haired man curled around you this morning definitely was not Jack. This morning when you glance toward his house, you accidentally catch his eye and end up awkwardly waving as you leave your house alone. The blonde had been politely kicked out before breakfast.

Jack sends back that half-hearted wave and tries to keep the scowl off his face for your sake. Knowing that you will think that it's directed towards you instead of towards the man who had snuck out of your house this morning with a jaunt in his step that Jack certainly recognized.

A thought has been gnawing on you for a while now, and you hustle to catch up to Jack on the sidewalk that leads away from Statesman housing and heads toward the main area of the company’s campus. Trying to maintain a friendship with Jack has been agonizing for you, as you realize the actual depths of your feelings for him, but you’re also trying to respect his wishes. If he doesn’t want to be anything but a platonic pair, you aren’t going to forcibly change his mind. Either he wants to be with you or he doesn’t. End of story.

He hears your quick footsteps behind him, the effort for you to catch up to him and Jack sighs to himself. Not in any kind of mood to play nice, not when he's going to see that 'freshly fucked' glow that you seem to get when you bring someone home. Acid churns in his gut and he wonders if he's developing heartburn for how often he's eating antacids to keep it moderately tolerable.

He slows down only slightly, but you catch up to him by just the last few steps that land much harder like a schoolgirl trying to casually match the stride of her upperclassman crush. It’s a fairly apt comparison for how you feel about him sometimes, but that’s not a thought you want to have to nurse today. “In a hurry today?” You ask, knowing he isn’t late for his usual day. His 9-5 is the same as yours.

"Just wanting to get my heart pumping." Jack doesn't look over at you. "Not getting much exercise being stuck behind a desk." He tells you. "Champ still won't clear me for field work."

That’s your fault. You know it is. You’ve had full conversations about it. But as long as Jack insists on acting like you mean nothing to him, you’re going to maintain the same behavior. If he doesn’t want a soulmate, then he doesn’t get any of the benefits of you being that person. Including, but not limited to, an understanding heart.

“I had something I wanted to ask you,” you admit, shoving your hands in your pockets as you walk. Something that is very much above and beyond the call of a normal friend, but you’re telling yourself that that doesn’t mean anything. He’s not the only person you’ll be asking about this, so it’s fine.

"What do you need to know?" Jack rolls his eyes, noticing that you are avoiding him mentioning the fucking tattoo, but he didn't expect you to.

“I know it’s not really your thing…” He looks annoyed, and you wonder if he didn’t get enough sleep last night or if he skipped breakfast. The fleeting thought that he might be jealous of your date is flicked away with the reminder that he doesn’t want to be connected to you. He’s probably glad you’re finally leaving him alone. “But I’m asking my friends, which you did say you wanted to be,” the reminder comes with an awkward smile that you drop when he doesn’t respond. “Gabriella’s birthday is coming up, so it jogged my memory. I’m just asking my friends what they want their birthday cakes to be this year so I can plan ahead.”

"I don't celebrate my birthday." Jack manages to say the words without anger or devastation in the inflection in his voice. "Don't worry about it, sugar."

“I know you had said that, but I thought…sometimes it’s worth revisiting an old tradition. Who doesn’t like cake and presents, ya know?” Walking beside him, you feel like you ought to be clutching your textbooks and twirling your hair or something equally ridiculous. But all you want is to show him that you’re not the enemy.

Jaw clenched, Jack stops short and whirls towards you, obviously startling you from the way that you jump but he doesn't give a damn. You just push and you push and you push, not giving a damn what someone else might want. "I don't fucking celebrate the day my goddamn wife and baby boy died." He growls furiously. "Forget the goddamn day exists."

You feel knocked over even though all you've done is freeze on the sidewalk, wide eyes staring at him in shock while you're not sure if your jaw is trembling in shock or dropped fully open. "I—" The way your chest clenches, it feels like you might dissolve inwardly. "I didn't know. I'm so...I'm so sorry..."

"You didn't know because you didn't give a fuck." Jack sneers. "All you care about is yourself, what you want. What you think is best, damned what anyone else might think."

"Where do you get that from?" From bottomless sympathy, you bounce back to shock in a very different way. "I was trying to do something nice for you!"

"I told you I don't celebrate and you couldn't let it go." He shouts. "You won't get rid of the fuckin' tattoo so I can do my goddamn job. Maybe if you did, you wouldn't hafta worry about a fuckin' soulmate because I would be dead like I deserve to be!"

"This is the first and only time I've asked since the day we met." This time you know for certain that your lip is trembling, and that it's from oncoming tears. Being screamed at is never something you've been able to take, and this is...it's Jack. Someone you want to make happy so desperately that you're doing things you actively hate in order to do it. "You didn't want a soulmate. You wanted to be friends. So that's all I've done."

“I do want a soulmate. I want my soulmate.” Jack fumes, eyes flashing angrily. “I want the woman who fucking died on my birthday because she was going to get the fuckin’ candles she had forgot to buy for my cake. For me. She died because of me! That’s the soulmate I want!” His own agony makes him blind to the fact that he is crying, tears rolling down his face and his heart about to fucking bust apart, but not because of Abigail, it’s from hearing you say that all you’re trying to do is be friends.

With both of you crying it's almost an exercise in futility to make sense of anything, or to try to hold a reasonable conversation, and you can feel yourself shutting down faster than lightning. The words are there, ringing in your ears, never ever to leave again. I want my soulmate. Not you. Never you. He wants his wife back and you're just standing in the way and insulting her memory purely by existing. "Right." You barely croak out the one syllable, nodding vaguely and already backing away from him while you try not to shake where you stand. "Th—that's...you..." Whatever sentence you were trying to form isn't happening, to the point where all you can think about clearly is how badly you don't want him to be upset with you anymore. And the only way to do that is to walk away. "I'm sorry." Are the only coherent words you manage to murmur, fleeing in the opposite direction as soon as you get them out.

Jack stands there for a few minutes, only moving to wipe away the tears when his breathing is relaxed. Dread curling in his stomach as he replays the cruel things he had said to you in his anger and sorrow. “Shit.” He hisses quietly, wondering if you would talk to him now, but he doubts it.

You have to get yourself under control before you make it to the restaurant, you know that. But the tears rolling down your cheeks are thick and angry and making it hard for you to think, and when you pull out your phone to send a text you can barely read the screen. Hopefully, even if it doesn't make sense, your brother will understand enough to call you later. It's Friday and you need to be anywhere but here this weekend. Hopefully his guest room is free.

******

Jack pauses outside the restaurant, knowing that he needs to talk to you again, but he can’t make himself go inside. He’s fucked this all up. He’s hurt you and his heart aches from that. Instead, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number that oftentimes he avoids like the plague. “Hey doc.” He greets the Statesman therapist when the call is picked up. “Do you have some free time? I need to talk.”

A two-hour flight to New York is nothing, but by the time you land it’s late and the sight of your brother standing at the gate waiting for you nearly brings you to relieved tears.

******

It’s not unusual that he doesn’t see you at night. His therapy session opening his eyes and making him see that he’s been very wrong, very cruel to you. Sighing, Jack pushes off the swing with his foot, the tall glass of Statesman in his hand as he watches your dark cabin. He knows you’re in there, the pinging on his phone showing that you are.

There’s no sign of you all the next day, or even the one after that. No movements from your house, no lights turning on or off, no television flickering or even anyone else’s car in the driveway. It’s like you’ve shut yourself inside and locked out the rest of the world.

Jack tries to go about his weekend, but his eyes still wander over to your place. Hoping to see you, not having enough courage to go over and knock. He knows you won’t answer the door and it’s not like he’s given you any reason to. So he waits for an opportunity to bump into you.

But when Monday morning comes, you aren’t there. The bracelet he gave you - the one that was presented as an apology for an argument but actually contained a tracker so he can keep an eye on you - hasn’t moved. According to that tracker you’re still in your house, but it’s 8:40 on Monday morning and you are never late. You should be closing your front door behind you right now to walk to work, but there isn’t any trace of you in sight.

“Fuck this.” Jack slaps his thigh and stalks across the small courtyard to march up your step and - it’s probably a little more forceful than necessary - he starts beating on your door. “Come on, sugar! Open the door!”

There’s no answer. No movement from within at all. A peak through the garage door shows your car sitting there as usual so it’s not like you’ve decided to break your walking tradition and drive to work.

“Damnit.” Jack shakes his head and presses the button on his watch. “Ginger, unlock cabin 6.” He orders, worry starting to curl in his gut though your marks are still on his skin.

“Roger.” Ginger’s voice comes through his com loud and clear and the locks on your front door click open obediently to allow him entry.

His search is quick, getting more and more hurried as he rushes through the space until he’s convinced you’re not here. “Shit.” Jack hisses, sweeping his hat off his head in a panic. “Shit!”

“Agent Whiskey. Report.” Ginger had left the com open when she unlocked your house, knowing Jack would never want her to do something like that for anything less than an emergency.

“Where the fuck is she, Ginger?” There’s an undercurrent of panic in his voice and the bracelet firmly in his fist. “‘Cause she ain’t here.”

"Come into the office," she urges him, knowing that tone in his voice after years of working together. "I'll see if I can track her down in the couple of minutes it takes you to get here."

“Find her now, Ginger.” Jack flies out of the cabin and his boots thump on the walkway as he makes for Statesman at a dead sprint.

The door to the lab slams open with a violent rattle five minutes later but Ginger barely moves in her seat. The control panel in front of her gives her domain across the myriad of screens mounted on the wall, most of which are showing traffic cam footage, sidewalk security footage, or even in-building security footage of you over the last two days. A flight itinerary is pulled up in one corner and the far-left monitor shows a string of text messages. "She went to New York City," Ginger tells Jack, her hands flying across her keyboard. "It looks like she went to see her brother after your last fight."

“How did— you know about that?” Jack huffs, slightly deflated as he catches sight of the texts that you had sent your brother and winces at the stark harshness of his words written out. “Shit. Can you track her phone? Where is she now?”

"I tracked her phone to a hotel in Times Square." That fact makes Ginger cringe, but she glances up at Jack cautiously. "She didn't get on her flight last night and she didn't change her ticket, either. When I called the kitchen with the pretense of wanting to invite her to lunch today, her sous-chef said she hadn't heard from her either."

“Fuck.” Jack shakes his head, pointing at her as he starts rushing for the door. “Get Pony Express fueled up and on the tarmac when I get there!” He orders as he dashes out of the room. In his gut he knows something is very wrong.

Jack dashes out of Ginger’s office right before she gets another ping on your information - something more than cell phone records between your family members like she’s seen this morning. This is a missing person’s report, filed by your brother with NYPD just a minute or two ago. “Shit.” Ginger mutters, furiously clicking at her control panel to notify the hangar to have the Pony Express ready so she can call Champ immediately.

Jack has never run so fast in his life. Breathlessly changing into his flight suit and bolting for the fighter jet. He knows something’s wrong. You would never let your kitchen be kept in the dark, no matter how upset you were with him. No, this is dangerous and it’s all his fault.

******

There are some things television is very informative about: interior decorating, cooking, fashion, even nature or manufacturing. But in no way, shape, or form does it prepare the unsuspecting person for what kidnapping might really be like.

The men who approached you after you left your self-indulgent solo dinner had been overbearing and pushy, asking for your number and where you were going, trying to get you to go with them willingly to their next destination - a bar you had never heard of. When you had politely refused so many times that you had to go from polite to insistent, the one standing directly in back of you had pushed the muzzle of a gun into your back while the leader ordered you to do as you were told so you wouldn’t have your spinal cord severed. In terror, you had obeyed.

The duct tape, zip ties, and blindfold were not enough, apparently. You had been gagged and starved, left tied to a chair in a room you could only describe as drafty and damp, and generally ignored excepted to be threatened periodically or violently interrogated whenever one of them got frustrated. You’re fairly certain that you now know what waterboarding actually is, but you’re grateful they haven’t done worse. The thing is — what they want? Is Jack. And there is no way you’re going to give them that. Even as angry as you can be with each other, if you didn’t realize that you loved him before now, this would have proved it. Literally willing to die for his safety, you haven’t said one coherent word to these mongrels since they shoved you into the back of an SUV in Times Square.

“Come on sweetheart…” The slow, condescending roll of the words come from your left where a man of middle-aged years is watching you, leaning back in his chair as your head swivels towards him. “All you gotta do is make a phone call. One thirty second call. You can be as damsel in distress as you’d like.”

With a gag in your mouth, you shake your head once to signal ‘no’ and raise your head again, determined not to cry this time. You have no idea how long you’ve been with these degenerates, but it feels like days - and you’ve definitely cried a lot during that time. So much that you’re starting to finally feel numb.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” mutters someone on your other side. The voice sounds younger. Angrier. And familiar. “She’s fuckin’ useless.”

“No, she ain’t.” There is a low, evil chuckle from the other man. “You said she’s his soulmate.” He hums, pleased with himself. “If she doesn’t want to cooperate, we’ll start shippin’ pieces of her back to him.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. You blink back the fear, cut between the fear that that kind of stunt either wouldn’t work at all because Jack hates you so much, or that it would bring him straight into danger on Champ’s orders. Whoever that man is, he can’t know what Statesman really is - or is that exactly why they came for you? If you could fucking place his voice, that would be a huge goddamn help.

“Aw, look.” One of the other men snickers nastily. “Bitch is gonna cry again.”

There’s a round of chuckling, generally enjoying your fear and upset, “I bet it’s gonna eat him alive.” The older man snorts. “Buryin’ a second soulmate. Another one he couldn’t save.” There’s another round of amusement, harsh and cold. All of them in on a secret you don’t know.

“Go get some dinner.” The first man tells another. “I’m hungry. I’ll watch her, see if she’ll give in.”

There is a general sound of chairs scraping and boots on concrete, the sound of heels clicking so similar to the now-familiar sound of cowboy boots on the sidewalk. They keep you from responding with the gag, and the blindfold keeps their faces hidden, but they always want you to hear. It keeps you afraid, and fear is what they’re banking on. That fear will make you cave. What they don’t know is that your fear has more to do with not knowing whether or not Jack will even care that you’re gone.

“Has he fallen for you yet?” The question comes with a hint of irony in his voice. The need for information that would twist the knife deeper. “Or is he runnin’ from it to keep from gettin’ hurt?”

You can’t help that that brings a fresh set of tears. It seems to be the part of your body you have the least control over. Fucking tear ducts. But this guy’s seemingly endless need to talk and talk and make you as miserable as humanly possible has made you pay more attention to his voice over however long you’ve been here. Some of the others have slightly different accents - but this one is a cowboy.

“Mhm, running.” The deeply satisfied tone settles back slightly as he sits back in his chair and watches you, “just so you know it’s not personal.” He tells you conversationally. “I just want to see the poor bastard’s face as he holds another dead soulmate.”

Without this fucking gag in your mouth, you might have said something that would give you away. That would hurt Jack somehow or prove that you actually are useless to them. They don’t know that you’ve fallen for him despite your very best efforts, and they don’t know that he despises you simply for existing. He’s not running from anything – but you’re not Abigail, so you’re an insult to her memory.

“Oh hell, I’ll tell you since you aren’t leavin’ this room.” Alive is left off the end of the sentence, but the threat is clearly there. “I was the one who arranged for good ol’ Jack Daniels to lose his first soulmate. Her and the kid she was carryin’. Cherry on top of you ask me.”

Your eyes open wide against the blindfold, head snapping in the direction of the voice as he chuckles. The evil bastard is so goddamn pleased with himself. You could scream if you had breath, but the best you can do is fight against bindings that will never break.

“Bastard never even knew it, either. Dumb son of a bitch.” He huffs. “Bought the story of it being meth heads, robbing the store. Can you believe that? But it allowed me to attend the funeral. Watch his grief firsthand.”

Why? Is all you can wonder, as your mind races to try to figure out what the hell Jack could have done to warrant such a vast conspiracy before he was ever even a spy. Diana said Jack hadn’t joined Statesman until after his wife and son had died, so why the hell would anyone want to ruin his life when he was just a normal man?

“Jack Daniels is gonna fuckin’ pay,” the chair scrapes back and the sound of boots slowly comes towards you, ominous in how measured the steps are. “Maybe I’ll stage it for him. Write a note sayin’ how you couldn’t take being his soulmate.” He chuckles and his hand caresses the side of your face. “Pretty neck of yours will look good stretched out on a rope for him to find.”

You grunt, jerking your face away from his touch and wishing you could just scream at him. The muffled noises of frustration that do make it past your lips seem only to amuse him and you twist in your chair in a vain desire to lash out.

“Oh don’t be that way…” he tuts and bends down, smirking directly in your face even though you can’t see it. “You’d even be my type if you weren’t tied to that bastard. Maybe we could have some fun before your usefulness is done.”

That’s a line too far, and you instinctively start screaming, not like you’re trying to call for help but like you would call him every horrible name in the book if you could speak. There’s no way you can move but you take a chance, even knowing it’s a long shot. Reeling back as quickly as possible, you hit your head forward and manage to connect – head butting the bastard and making him stumble and fall backward into some nearby furniture, from the sound of it. Bastard.

“Bitch!” he growls, rushing forward and raising his hand. Bringing it down against the side of your face and slapping you hard enough to nearly knock your chair over. “Fuck with me and I start chopping you into pieces now!” He bellows.

Muffled and muted, the "Fuck you!" you scream as loud as you can is just clear enough to understand. You've gone from terrified to pissed, and it feels like a light switch has turned on inside you. These fuckers aren't getting shit from you. Not even another tear.

******

Honestly, Jack doesn’t remember a time when he’s pushed the Pony Express so hard. Finally setting down on the runway, he ignores the curious and awed looks of the grounds crews of the airport and starts looking around. “Where are my wheels, Ginger?”

"Rye is in the black SUV on the edge of the runway." Ginger fires back immediately. Champ had authorized the rescue mission immediately and sent one of the senior agents from the New York office to be at Jack's disposal.

“Goddamnit this is all my fault,” Jack spots the car and starts running, not bothering to change out of his flight suit. “She should be in her kitchen!”

"I've combed the security footage from Times Square." In his ear, Ginger is clicking through countless screens with images of you from all angles - a large number of them featuring a group of seven men and a large SUV that you appear to get into willingly. "She got into a slate gray SUV with a group of seven men on West 51st between 8th and Broadway."

“Who the fuck are they?” Jack demands, ripping the door open and jumping inside the car. He spares Rye a nod as he waits for his answer. “And did you track the SUV?”

“I’m working on the car. It drops off the traffic cameras after the Williamsburg Bridge.” A few clicks can be heard in the background and Ginger hums. “I have records on four of the seven men. Domestic, drug charges, firearms, breaking and entering, the usual gamut of ‘goon’ crimes. But…” she muffles a groaning sound. “Jack. Some of these guys are from your hometown…”

“What?” Jack slams his fist on the dashboard, sick that his suspicions are right. This is all his fault. “Give me their names.”

"Hank Rollins, Ben Jeffrey, Andrew Kelly, and Sean Perring. All from Lloyd, Montana." Ginger bites her lip, sighing at her screen. "On the sidewalk footage she appears to be going with them willingly, but from your reaction I'm guessing that isn't the case."

“Rollins.” Jack growls out, pissed off to hear the name after so long, thinking that he’d escaped the fucking family feud unscathed. “Haven’t heard that name in a long time. Hoped to never hear it again.”

“They’ve had her for nineteen hours now.” Ginger swallows, not liking how high that number is. “And we haven’t had a ransom note or a phone call of any kind.”

“Shit.” Jack shakes his head. “Take me to where she was taken. Now.”

Rye doesn’t hesitate, throwing the car into gear and heading for the road at a full tilt. Getting close to Broadway at any time of day is a task, but if they have to, he can pull any number of public safety tricks to be able to block off part of the area. Being a Statesman agent in New York City means having a few tricks up his sleeve. “What can we be expecting?” He asks Jack, wondering if the other agent might have an idea now that he knows some of what is going on.

“Anything.” Jack’s teeth grind together. “This is personal. A family feud over land disputes dating back to the fuckin’ 1800s.” Jack hisses, shaking his head. “I left the goddamn valley for a reason.”

“They grabbed her over a two-hundred-year-old land dispute?” Nothing should surprise him at this point, with what he’s seen as a Statesman agent, but Rye still huffs. “What the hell do they want you to do? Time travel?” It’s the absence of a ransom demand that makes him nervous. They took an agent’s soulmate and it’s not money they’re after.

“When my daddy died, I put the land in the hands of the ranch board.” Jack tells him. “I didn’t wanna fucking ranch, not after Abigail died. Rollins wants me to sell to him, but I can’t. It has to be passed down to blood.”

"So what's the idea?" Speeding through the streets as fast as possible without causing an accident, Rye keeps his eyes on the road but frowns. "Make sure she's out of the picture so there's no blood to pass it down to?"

“Did I mention that the entire Rollins family is as crazy as a fuckin’ loon?” Jack huffs, shaking his head and even more worried about you now that he knows that bastard is behind your disappearance. “Who the hell knows? Tried to claim I’d stolen his soulmate at one point.”

“Jesus.” The other agent huffs, continuing to weave their way through the thick New York traffic. “It’s up to you how you want to approach this,” he tells Jack honestly. “She’s your soulmate.”

“She doesn’t get hurt.” His answer is immediate, almost growled out. “Not a fuckin’ hair on her head.”

“Copy that.” His tone says everything, and Rye doesn’t ask any more questions. “We’ll get her back.”

Finally, the SUV comes to a screeching stop at the spot where you were forced into a vehicle. Jack throws open the doors and bolts out, eyes scanning the ground for something – anything. It's a long shot, but there's got to be something here that would show that you were here. Some marker. Anything.

Any street in New York City has trash and debris to a certain extent, and there are traces of people having been through the area just because of how much car and foot traffic moves through Broadway every single day. Broken bottles, cigarette butts, tissues, all the normal bits of peoples' lives that go by the wayside are littered about on steps and in sidewalk cracks. Candy wrappers or coffee cups by the curb. Rye combs the area for specialized clues – a name on a cup or a wrapper from a list of the favourite snacks listed in your file, but frustratingly finds nothing.

“Come on, there’s gotta be something here!” Jack huffs, kicking a trash can and there is the tiny clink of something metal being launched against it. “Fuck, what’s this?”

Rye bends over, swiping up the item as it glints in the sun. "Looks like a bracelet." He inspects it carefully, not finding a serial number or any indication of a designer, except for a small engraving in the tip that looks like a maker's mark. "Maybe Ginger can track down the manufacturer? It's a long shot that it will help, but it's something."

“It’s hers.” Jack stares at the inscription on the inside of the bracelet. “Beautiful girl, you can do hard things.” He reads aloud. “She—she showed me this. It’s a quote her grandmother would tell her.” His mouth is dry and he takes it from Rye to put in his pocket, determined to put it back on your wrist himself. “Let’s hope she can hang on. Just hold on, sugar. I’m comin’.”

"Whiskey. Rye." Ginger's voice in their ears makes both men's heads perk up, listening for a report from their eyes and ears. "The car registration belongs to a shell corporation owned by the Rollins family. They also own a shipping company with containers in the Brooklyn Navy Yard." She clears her throat pointedly. "Right off of the Williamsburg Bridge where we lost the car."

“Get us there now.” Jack points at Rye and starts running back to the Statesman SUV like his heels are being nipped by the hounds of hell. “Ginger, I need you to get me the specs of that building.”

"Sending them now." Her voice is accompanied by the sound of keyboard clacking as Rye and Whiskey jump back into the car, peeling back out onto Broadway to head toward Williamsburg. The heavy traffic doesn't part for them easily but Rye was chosen for this assignment specifically for his abilities as a driver.

“Ginger, is there any indication on how they know that I have another soulmate?” Jack demands, tensing the closer that he gets with every mile to the shipyard. He knows he will kill them; he’ll kill every last one of them to protect you. “They don’t seem to know I’m a fuckin’ spy.”

"I'm working on it." It isn't something that has been advertised, obviously, and Jack has kept his marks from you hidden since they first appeared on his skin. There are few people who know, most of whom have priority clearance. She's gone through all the background checks on the new Statesman employees and the places you frequent, all the men you've dated, even all the way back through the staff at The Whitney months ago who might have seen your marks on your first soulmate before the accident. Not a single red flag had risen, but Ginger hesitates for just a split second as she tries to think through more connections. There was one - just one – the newest line cook for The Rabbit Hole that makes her hesitate. "Have you ever heard her mention a man named Tripp Tanner?" Ginger asks, pulling up the file on the man once more. It's too pristine. Too squeaky clean. Too pitch-perfect. Like it's been manufactured.

Jack is ashamed to say that you’ve not been doin’ a whole lot of talkin’ around him. It’s not like he’s really encouraged close conversations. Keeping things as surface level as he could to not make it more difficult. Even though every day he aches and he hates that he aches. “No.” Though he recognizes the name, he can’t place it. “She hasn’t mentioned him. Why? Is he one of the ones she’s been…uh, seein’?” His ears burn slightly, noticing the way Rye’s eyes cut from the road to look over at him but he tries to ignore it.

"No, he—" Ginger hates that it makes her stammer, feeling like your dating is partially her fault because it started with her brother. "He's on her staff. The background check is clean and his resume is spotless. But it's too clean, so it's the best lead I have. I'm running him through Statesman facial recognition now." The Statesman database is far more complex and complete than any government or criminal database. If her gut feeling is right, it might kick up a result.

“Send me a picture of the boy.” Jack grunts, having already looked at the blueprints of the building where you might be. It’s better than you being in a random shipping container. They might never find you if that’s the case.

"His employee ID photo is coming through now." More taps come from Ginger's end of the conversation before a muffled shriek of dismay. "Shit. Jack— Tanner is from Lloyd, too. He changed his name from Rollins two years ago. Stephen Stuart Rollins the third - nickname Tripp - has a rap sheet a mile long."

“Son of a bitch.” Jack hisses, his grip on the dashboard nearly about to put an indentation in it. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t been avoidin’ her, I woulda recognized the bastard.”

"We'll fix it on this end, Jack." She promises him. "Just go bring her home."

“She hates me.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I was— I wasn’t very nice to her.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll forgive you after you save her life.” Ginger sighs, watching the dot on her on-screen map that represents her two agents speed toward the warehouse where she’s figured out you’re being held. “Stop these assholes first, apologize second. She— she thinks you hate her. That’s what she told Gabriella, anyway.”

“I don’t hate her.” Jack grumbles, feeling guilty as hell because he knows that’s what it looked like.

“I would suggest telling her that.” Even though Ginger’s voice goes soft, she’s following their movements and watching the Navy Yard security cameras. “There’s movement at the building. I don’t see her, but I’m counting…six men outside the building.”

“Good.” Jack’s voice is grim and his brows are knitted together. “Every single one of them is going in the ground, Ging. This feud ends today.”

******

There is a group of men milling about around a large brick building with the number 31 painted above the bay doors. Cars parked haphazardly nearby with doors flung open present as frustratingly casual, but the large, dark gray van from the sidewalk cam footage is nowhere in sight.

“So what are we doin’ here, Whiskey?” Rye demands, slowing the vehicle down so it doesn’t look like they are barreling into the place. “Are we run in guns blazing or using some stealth?”

Every instinct inside him is screaming to run in guns blazing, but he can’t risk another man inside hurting you. “Shit.” He hisses. “Turn down the service road and park the fucking car.” He grunts. “We’re sneakin’ up on the bastards.”

The service road runs behind the old abattoir buildings and Rye tucks the car out of sight so he and Whiskey can arm themselves out of the trunk before coming up on the group of abductors. “Three doors on the blueprint.” Rye murmurs, tucking a Bowie knife into the sheath on his belt. “Those buildings are big, we gotta be methodical.”

Jack finally shucks the flight suit, changing into his standard jeans and a button up with a sports coat. His double six shooters tucked into their holsters and his electric whip and lasso tucked into his belt. “They are going to keep her somewhere small, like an office. Probably have her tied to a chair, the bastards.”

“I’m followin’ your lead.” Tucking a few throwing knives into the hidden pockets of his jacket for good measure, Rye nods for Jack to step out first. This is his operation and Rye will do what he needs to keep him covered.

He moves silently, deciding that he will pull his weapons later to get as close as possible without seeming suspicious. Crouching low enough that his knees protest, Jack skirts the edge of the loading docks and edges towards the northeast door. The one farthest away from the group out front.

There is no guard at the northeast door. The bastards obviously are either overconfident or underprepared, and Rye picks the padlock in record time to let Jack get inside with minimal noise. No alarm sounds, no person is alerted. It looks to be a storage room, and the two men pass through it easily to find a claustrophobic hallway waiting for them beyond the interior door.

There’s a muffled sound, Jack tensing and hisses under his breath when he recognizes the sound of screaming through a gag. “Fuck.” He murmurs, imagining all sorts of horrible things. “That way.”

The room where the noises are coming from is non-descript now, empty except for some card tables and chairs, and the remains of a meal spread out with some discarded firearms and a bag of who-knows-what open on the ground. Two large men are hunched in the center of the room. Deep, rumbling laughter rolls from them and cigarette smoke is pungent in the air as the muffled shrieks get slightly more panicked. Still blindfolded and gagged, the front legs of the chair that you've been zip-tied to almost constantly your arrival in this place have been broken, leaving you kneeling on the cement floor between the two of them. One who has decided to turn your shoulder into his ashtray, and the other who is deciding which fingernail to pull off with the pliers in his hand. Presumably to send to Jack.

“Shit, shit.” Jack hisses under his breath, the urge to rush in there nearly overwhelming but he doesn’t want to give them a chance to anticipate. Stealth is needed and he slowly starts to pull his pistols out but decides against it. He wants this to be more personal, so he reaches for the whip and lasso.

“I know, I know.” Rollins drawls, holding onto your left hand to inspect your fingernails. “Jack likes his girls done up, so not being able to have all your nails painted is gonna disappoint him.” He tuts, finally deciding that your pointer finger mail is long enough to get a good grip on with the pliers. You’re screaming and crying again after a few hours of putting on a brave face and he’s enjoying it. “If ya like I could just cut off the whole finger? That might be more fun for everybody.”

“More fun if you get the fuck away from her and face me like a man, Rollins.” Jack bursts through the door and squares up, his eyes not even looking at you as he focuses on the man responsible. “Always knew you were a chickenshit, but this is low even for you.”

Jack? You would know his voice anywhere, even as often as you’re at odds you’ve still memorized the tone and tenor. He came. He actually came. As fast as your heart was beating before, the pace doubles now and the tears soaking your blindfold are relief. He came for you. It might not say ‘love’, but it doesn’t say ‘hate’.

The deep, rolling, evil laugh that bubbles out of the man beside you is so pleased that it makes you physically ill just to hear. Rollins, as Jack calls him, drops your hand but stomps on the back leg of the chair you’re tied to for good measure - breaking it and sending you crashing to the ground with another scream. There is no way you can see what’s going to happen with the blindfold, but at least the two men have lost interest in torturing you for the moment.

“Daniels.” The game is up and if Rollins is surprised that Jack has found out that it’s him, he doesn’t show it. Too deep into his madness and he sneers at the man in front of him. “You came with a whip?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Always knew you were a fucking idiot.”

The man who had been standing in the other side of you drops his cigarette beside you - probably hoping to burn your clothes in the process - and squares his shoulders like he’s planning to make a run at Jack but isn’t sure he’ll win.

“I’m begging you too.” Jack growls out, wanting nothing more than to have them strike first. Give him a reason to cut them into pieces with his tech. Rye moves past the door behind him, intent on taking out the others while he saves you. “Do it.”

“Begging.” Rollins laughs again, taking a step forward. “Tripp, don’t fuckin’ move. Keep a gun on the bitch until I say otherwise.” The sound of the safety of a gun clicking is now intimately familiar to you and you squirm on the ground, trying to push your chair away from it even a little, but a pressure on your ribcage stops you. It’s unmistakably a foot. And you’ve only heard the name Tripp once in your entire life - meaning the jackass you hired to your kitchen to bolster numbers now has his goddamn boot in your side. You knew you recognized that fucking voice.

“It’ll be the last fucking thing you do, Tripp.” Jack hisses, keeping his eyes on the older, more unhinged brother. “Finally gone off the deep end, huh? What’s this all about?” He doesn’t know why the Rollins boys are after you to get to him. Doesn’t understand it. He’s not run the ranch since he was in high school.

"You're a hard man to get through to, Daniels." Hank tells him, smug smirk still painted across his crooked face. "Last time I had to talk real loud to make you listen. Figured I'd have to do it again."

His head tilts, eyes narrowing slightly as he tries to figure out what he means by that. “Well, I’m here now. Whadya gotta say?”

"Y'all got something I want." And even after fifteen years, he hasn't figured out a way other than this to get it. Something that isn't criminal. "Now, the last time I made myself heard, you went off and skipped town with your tail between your legs like a spurned schoolgirl on prom night." Hank Rollins takes out his own gun, the pistol pointed directly at your head when he stretches out his arm. "But I'm sick and tired of a whole world that thinks the sun shines outta Jack Daniels' ass crack."

Jack’s entire world narrows and focuses on his words, taking them and twisting them in his mind. “The last time…” He growls. “My wife died in a fuckin’ robbery.” He hisses, fingers twitching on the whip and hovering over the button that would turn it deadly.

The way Hank Rollins laughs - the wicked, pleased, loathsome way he chortles at Jack's pain - almost makes you physically sick. "I love that you bought that," he gloats, taking another step toward the senior Statesman agent, ignoring his backup altogether if he's even taken a long enough look to see Rye in the room. "Hook. Line. And sinker. Goddamn beautiful."

“What did you do, you bastard?” His knuckles are practically white and he curls his lips back in disgust. “A pregnant woman? Why? What evil did I do to you?”

"You took what was mine." His free hand moves to his sleeve even as Jack watches him more carefully than a hawk. When Rollins rolls up his shirt sleeve, there is a scar there that is burned into Jack's memory as clear as day - Abigail was bitten by the neighbor's dog as a little girl and wore the scar for her entire life. "You brainwashed her against me. And you paraded my soulmate around town like your fucking prize, Daniels. That boy should've been mine, too."

“I wore her marks.” Jack hisses. “Every goddamn one of them and you know it! They would be gone if she was your soulmate.” He always thought Hank was insane, and this just proves it. The marks would have disappeared. They wouldn’t be there, just like they disappeared from Jack when she died. “But you mean to tell me that you murdered her because I had her and you wanted her?”

"I saved her!" Rollins snaps back, waving his gun in your direction as the rage builds in him. "The wife of some city-slicker pretty boy without the sense to keep a single fuckin' eye on the most important woman in the world. She would have been miserable bearing your heathen children and picking up the pieces of everything you ever broke."

Jack scoffs, knowing it won’t make any use to point out that he grew up in the same small damn valley Hank did. That they both worked and lived on ranches. The Daniels spread was more lucrative thanks to his Grandaddy being a smart man and the Rollins have always been a little unhinged. Hank and his younger brother being the worst of them all. “Point the gun at me, not her.” As devastating as it is to hear him talk about Abigail that way, you are the one in danger right now. His heart bursting with the need to see you safe.

"Now, c'mon." Rollins drawls, throwing his brother a smirk from a few feet away. "Don't start pretendin' you like her now. She already knows why you can't look her in the eye. Lyin' piece of shit."

Jack wishes he could see your eyes, but they are covered. All he can hear is the panicked breathing and sobs from your poor body. “Your issue is with me. She ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.”

"Cryin' over a man who can't ever love her." Tutting as he shakes his head, Rollins moves his gun temporarily from pointing at your head to Jack, but goes back again. He's having too much fun watching the man he despises twist. "You been treatin' this one even worse than my Abigail."

It’s in his chest to scream out that Abigail was his, but she’s dead and you’re here, alive and depending on him. His heart clenches and he rocks his jaw. “If you know how I’ve been treatin’ her, why take her? Why not let her go? I’m here now. You’ve got my attention.”

“You want me to let her go?” Hank Rollins scoffs to his brother and seems to weigh his options. As far as he’s concerned there’s no reason this can’t be as much fun as he likes. “I could see my way to lettin’ that happen,” he concedes with another contemptuous chuckle. “You got two options, Daniels. One is I shoot her in the head right now and you walk free knowin’ you’re the reason two innocent women are dead. But two? Two is you take her place. Right here and now. I’ll let her walk right out on outta here. Yer friend there can even get her home safe. Either way, yer signing over that ranch land and the whole business operatin’ on it over to me first.”

“Done.” The word is out of his mouth so fast he’s not even sure if he actually said them out loud. Maybe he just thought it. But then Rollins’ face cracks into a wide grin and he looks like he’s struck gold. “Let her go, and I’ll take her place.”

It may not be discernable words, but the hoarse screams coming from you now are crystal clear - pleading with him not to take your place. As much as this is the very last circumstance you would ever want to be in, as much as you cannot fathom how this absolute basket case Rollins thinks his 'plan' could ever succeed, Jack is worth far more to the world at large – and to you. So if either one of you is walking out of here, it should be him. Thrashing as much as your binding will allow, trying to toss off the foot of the man standing on you or else wiggle away from the pressure, probably a move that will end in broken bones, but you couldn't care less. Just as long as Jack stays far away from this chair.

“Let her go.” That’s all that matters to Jack right now. Getting you far away, keeping you safe. “Now.” Hank huffs and rolls his eyes, pointing the weapon at your head once more for the sheer pleasure of watching Jack’s face drain of all life. “Fine.” He grumbles, motioning to Tripp. “Get her up and hand her over to whatever city boy he has with him.” He doesn’t get to watch you die, which is disappointing, but he gets Jack Daniels and the land his family stole. It might even be better this way.

Tripp grumbles, on the verge of protesting, but he does as he's told...mostly. All he really does is kick you - still attached to the chair - over to the man a few feet away. Rye immediately drops to his knees, murmuring to you quietly who he is and that he's going to untie you, Bowie knife out of its sheath and slicing away at the ties and tape that bind you to the chair that has been your prison for the last God only knows how many hours. As soon as your ankles are free you kick your legs, trusting that this other Statesman agent is here to help but wanting desperately to get to Jack to stop him from giving your literal kidnapper what he wants. As soon as your wrists are free you shove the blindfold off your eyes and drag the gag out of your mouth, shrinking away from the light in the same breath that you scream for Jack not to give in with everything you have left in you. Which, after countless hours screaming, crying, and very nearly choking on a ball of knotted cloth, is hoarse at best.

Finally looking over at you, Jack is furious by how swollen your eyes are, how raw your voice is. He doesn’t say anything about it though. Knowing it would give Hank a thrill to know how much he pissed Jack off. “Get out of here, sugar.” There’s a lot that Jack wants to say, but there’s no time. He needs you away from this room. “You’ve got a restaurant to open, remember? Go with Rye.”

Like the nail in the top of the coffin, you reel back at being ordered away. Not a moment of gentleness or sensitivity after being fucking kidnapped by the man who is still as obsessed with his wife as Jack is. After being convinced he wouldn't come for you only to feel such soaring hope at hearing his voice, the desolation of realizing that he only came because you're a complication and that he never felt any kind of tenderness or care for you at all. It's almost reassuring, in a way. To know that you at least had the right level of expectation in the beginning is something, at least.

It isn't hard to bundle you up into his arms when you deflate, but Rye doesn't say anything about it. Only tucks you against him and helps you shuffle toward the door on weak legs. "Come on, darlin'," he murmurs, glancing back at Jack. "We'll get you fixed up right. Let Jack handle it from here."

"Sure." Even one word makes you cough, but you don't put up a fight or try to get back to him. To your fucking soulmate. After all - you have a restaurant to open. God forbid you get behind on your commitment to Statesman for any reason.

He wants to call you back, to talk to you. His heart aching with every step you take away from him, but it’s safer. He sees the glint in Hank’s eyes, he knows he’s looking for another reason to strike out. Possibly waiting until Jack talks to you to shoot you. He can’t risk that. He can’t risk you. No matter what, his soulmate – you – needs to survive.

After about four steps, Rye stops your shuffling and scoops you up, not wanting you to walk on any injuries or aggravate anything. He nods to Jack and carries you out the back door, planning on bundling you into the backseat of the SUV and then taking out the stragglers out in front of the abattoir. But you need to be safe, first.

It feels like you’ve cried every tear in your body, and this bitter disappointment is met with stony silence and efficiency of movement. It doesn’t take long to get you out of there but Rye does it carefully, promising you in low tones that everything is going to be okay from here. That you’re safe. That Jack’s going to take care of you. The last part just makes you feel hollow as you nod.

“Now you stay right here,” Rye croons, buckling you into the backseat and tapping a few times on his watch. “Ginger, I need your eyes in the car. Our girl is safe but I gotta take care of somethin’ before we clear out of here.”

“Copy.” Ginger acknowledges the request and as soon as Rye closes the doors, the entire vehicle locks and a red light above the rear-view mirror flashes on. The built-in screens in the headrests come on and you can barely see Ginger’s concerned face. “Honey, I need you to listen to me.” She urges. “It’s Astrid. The Statesman cars come equip with medical facilities for injuries. I’m going to scan you now.”

Talking hurts, with how hoarse you are, but you nod at Astrid’s face on screen and only shrink away from the bright lights - What are those? Lasers? - for a second before you remember she has never done anything to hurt you. “Everything hurts.” It’s just a whisper, but it’s there.

“I know, I’m going to make sure that you feel better, okay?” Sorrow and rage fill the Statesman tech as the images comes back to her. Multiple contusions, burns - obviously from cigarettes - two broken ribs and a fractured ankle. All of them evidence of the horrific torture you endured at the hands of those madmen. “I can have a shot administered.” She tells you through the screen, trying not to show her emotions. “Just a tiny prick and then you will feel so much better. Can I do that?” It’s important right now for you to feel like you have control. That nothing is being done to you anymore and she wants you to be comfortable.

“Sure.” You murmur, hoping it’s something like morphine or stronger so you don’t have to think or feel anything. “A-Astrid?” Right before whatever happens happens, you look up to find her eyes watching you on screen. “How…how long have I been gone? Does my family know?”

Pausing for a moment, Ginger nods. “Your brother filed a police report, this morning. After Jack went to your house when you didn’t leave for work this morning—”

“Jack came to my house?” You practically whisper it, but Ginger hears you loud and clear. “He did. You’d been missing for seventeen hours when Jack jumped into the jet to come to New York.” She confirms softly.

“Will you just…let them know I’m okay?” Whatever lie Statesman tells people, you’ll go with it. It’s just that right now you can’t wrap your head around the idea of Jack giving two shits about you enough to check on you at home - let alone rescue you. It’s too much.

“As soon as I get you feeling better, I will have the local police contact them to tell them that you are safe.” She promises, knowing that you wouldn’t want them to worry. “We’re going to bring you back to Statesman to put you in our hyperbaric healing station. Six hours in it and you will be completely healed.”

“Okay.” As long as they tell your family you’re okay, you could care less what else happens. Everything hurts, there are no more tears to cry, and it’s possible that you feel even more hopeless about Jack ever sparing you a second glance ever again. Soulmates. Fucking laughable. Whoever Abigail was, she was clearly more important and more wonderful to multiple people than you’ll ever be. “Astrid?” When you look up again she’s still watching you intentely. “Can…can you get rid of my tattoo while I’m in there?”

“Are you sure you want that?” She asks quietly, her eyes searching your face through the screen to try to get an inkling of what you are thinking. “You don’t have to make any big decisions now.”

“The scars, too. You said you could erase scars.” Let him be free. Is all you can think. Obviously nobody was exaggerating about the danger you were in, but it’s more than that. It’s how, when Jack barely spared you a single glance, it hurt more than anything the Rollins brothers ever could have dreamt up.

The silence lingers in the air, suspended between the two of you for a long moment. Ginger sighs softly. “Of course.” She murmurs, hating how broken you appear. “We will get rid of them all.”

Gunshots, unmistakable now that you’ve heard them up close and personal, ring out from multiple directions and you sink down in the back of the car you know for a fact is bulletproof - all Statesman vehicles are - out of instinct. “And Astrid?” You watch the automated needle release from the door handle of the SUV and make sure your arm is in line for the injection. “Remind me to fire Tripp.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” Ginger promises you softly. On another screen in her lab, she can see the feeds from both Rye and Jack, and the justice that is being delivered is swift and brutal. They messed with a Statesman’s soulmate, and Jack grunts in pleasure as he retracts the whip on the left screen, pieces of Hank and Tripp Rollins scattered around the room.

A clean up team will be deployed from the New York Statesman building to scrub the site. Body removal is a necessary evil of the job and Statesman has some of the best. By the time footsteps can be heard running back toward you in the car, Ginger’s injection is starting to take hold and you’re finally feeling drowsy. Adrenaline and fear have had you on high alert since you were taken, but having Astrid’s face and voice to reassure you is soothing.

Shouting your name, Jack rushes towards the SUV. The only thing in his mind has been to get to you. To make sure you are okay. He knows Rye will be alright and he needs to see you. He manages to get to the rear door before Ginger deactivates the locks and security, yanking on the handle. “Let me in! Let me in!” He yells frantically.

“She’s out, Jack.” Ginger’s voice in his earpiece comes with a sigh as she deactivates the locks and lets him into the car. “She’s hurt pretty badly so I gave her a sedative. When you get back to Statesman, get her in a medical chopper and bring her to my lab asap.”

“Oh my god.” Jack rips open the door and climbs into the back seat, finding you slumped against the other door. “What— what did they do to her?” He demands, panicked because he’s never seen you like this. Angry at himself that he let this happen. Gathering you against him, he runs his hands over your body as he pulls you into his lap.

“Nothing I can’t fix,” she promises him, not wanting to give him the full rundown of your injuries when he’s still visibly upset enough to lash out. “She’ll be okay, Jack. But I don’t want her to go into shock or accidentally aggravate an injury, and she said she was in pain. That’s why I needed to medicate her.”

“Tell me what they did to her, Ginger Ale.” Jack demands again, turning towards the screen even as he is cradling you and stroking your face.

Ginger sighs, softly again, and looks down at her diagnostic pad. Avoiding Jack’s eyes while she reads this off will probably be better. “Two broken ribs, fractured ankle, superficial burns clearly from cigarettes. Bruising, contusions, and internal injuries consistent with being beaten, waterboarded, and kicked multiple times.”

“Motherfuckers.” Jack hisses, tightening his grip on you to where you whimper in your unconscious state. Immediately relaxing his hold on you and petting your face to soothe both of you. “I should have made it take more time. I should have beat him to death with my fists.” He growls. “I’m gonna burn their fucking legacy to the ground and piss on the ashes.”

“Jack.” This time Ginger’s tone is a warning. It’s not frequently that she hears this kind of rage from him – usually only in relation to his late wife. “She’ll be okay,” she repeats. “But she’s going to need support. Mentally. Emotionally.”

“It’s my fault, Ginger!” He hisses, his own emotions beyond rage finally surfacing from the compact box he had shoved them in to be the agent he needed to be in order for both of you to get out of that building alive. “She would have been at home— it’s my fault. She asked…she asked me about my birthday and I lashed out at her.” He chokes back a sob and looks down at your face. “I didn’t protect her.”

“Then you’ll apologize. And you’ll make sure it never happens again.” Jack isn’t a man who breaks down unless the stress is truly unbearable, and as his friend Ginger has seen only a bare handful of these moments. “She wants me to remove her marks when she gets here,” she tells him carefully. “Just so you know.”

Jack closes his eyes, absorbing the meaning behind it. “She wants to be rid of me.” He whispers, knowing it’s his fault when he had pushed you away and kept you at arm’s length. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry sugar. I should have been keepin’ you close. Keepin’ you safe.”

“You can talk to her when she’s awake,” Ginger murmurs, watching Rye finish with the last of the goons on the video feed from his glasses. “I’m deploying Delta Team to sweep up. You and Rye get back to the New York building and you get her in a chopper first thing. If she wakes up before you get back, you can talk then. If not?” Ginger watches Rye running back to the SUV, so much more composed than Jack for having no personal stake in this mission. “If not, then it might be tomorrow morning. After she’s done at the lab.”

He’s not happy, but he nods. Holding you and refusing to let you out of his arms as Rye comes climbing back into the SUV. “Where’s the chopper, Ginger?” Jack demands, knowing he needs to get you home and mended.

“There’s a helipad on the other side of the Navy Yard. Five minutes from where you are. I can have them meet you there.”

“Copy that, Ginger.” Rye takes the suggestion as absolute, seeing the condition you’re in, and the car comes roaring to life a second later.

“Goddamnit, sugar.” Jack huffs, his hand smoothing over your hair as he tries to look past the damage inflicted on you to see the woman who had intrigued him from the start. “You gotta hang on. You gotta get better.” He murmurs. “I gotta lotta grovelin’ to do when you’re up for it.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Danels #Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x reader #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au #canon typical violence #graphic depictions of violence

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mastermindmiko · 6 months

Text

Ghost Love

Pairing: Regulus Black + Potter!reader

Word count: 1783

Summary: You have the ability to talk and see ghosts

Warnings: angst, age gap but not really, kissing

Part 2

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

an: this was inspired by someone here on tumblr who is called or used to be called vampirestookmydoubts, but I really couldn't find the account to tag them, so if anyone does know what happened to their account lmk please!

“It’s completely insane! He still does it, does he not get bored?” Regulus asked you as you both looked at Professor Slughorn. He was once again drunk in one of his Slug Club dinners. This was the last dinner before the Christmas party and Christmas break.

You shook your head at the drunk teacher with a small chuckle. You didn’t turn to look at Regulus knowing that it would make your look weird, “Yeah. He did that too? You know, when you were well-” You trailed off, always so cautious not to mention death to any of them. Some were sensitive but others didn’t quite care like Regulus, “So what I died? Can’t change that now, can I?” He would always say that.

He rolled his eyes “I don’t care by the way so what I-” He started saying his usual phrase but you rolled your eyes and continued to say the sentence with him “Died? Can’t change that now,-” He raised his eyebrows looking at you when you both spoke in unison. “... Can I?”

“You say that a lot.” You say finally looking at him with a smirk. Your heart fluttered when you did.

“As you so graciously care to remind me. Not all of us cry when you mention that we died. Not like Fred who balled his eyes out-” He rolled his eyes.

“... now, now. Reggie. Just because you didn’t have someone to cry over you doesn’t mean you should go all salty on us.” Fred said, going through the wall towards you.

“Fred you’re back!” You said with a smile that he returned. “So tell me all the updates.” You added and you refrained from trying to hug him. You embarrassed yourself by trying to do that on several occasions before and you had to endure other people’s laughter when you went through air. Fred started to tell you about George and the rest of his family. You had intended to switch the subject quickly knowing that Fred dying wasn’t the thing that affected him but rather what his death caused for his family.

You shot Regulus a glare while he just shrugged. You listened to Fred intently as he talked about George and the rest of his family. Your family as well. You laughed at how your uncle Ron still gets mad at Harry when he kisses Ginny. It was a gift you had, no one knew about it except for your ghost friends. You had the ability to see Ghosts, only specific ones of course; the ones who chose for you to see them or just the ones that are there -it depends-.

You first saw Fred at Christmas six years ago, you screamed and shouted at seeing the man you saw in many family photos; in full color, going through a wall and sitting casually beside his twin. When your mom -Ginny- calmed you down and put you to bed, Fred came in to check on you -as he would with any normal family member- and then you talked to him. He was the first ghost you have seen.

The ghost you spent most time with is Regulus. He was your best friend despite the major difference. As you talked animatedly to Fred, he watched you fondly. He saw a girl looking at you weirdly because of the ‘air talking’. So he walked near her and made her punch fall on the floor, so he can grab her attention away from you. He knew how badly you took the ghost thing, you were happy so happy about it. However when you came to Hogwarts people noticed your weird actions and made fun of you for it. He made sure it didn’t happen again.

The party was loud and crowded so he wasn’t worried that someone might notice you, but every so often someone would look at you and scoff or laugh; and he made sure to take care of that. He watched you cry so hard and his heart clenched each time.

His thoughts came back to why he even had to do that in the first place. He was happy for you, you could speak to all your dead relatives and get to know them; but it was so hard for him. At first he watched you from afar curious by why you would do certain things, but as you grew older he started to gain feelings. You were 16 and he was 18. It wasn’t that big of a difference. -excluding the obvious over 55 year age gap-

His heart hurt and when you laughed at something that Fred said, his heart gained a burning feeling. He fumed at how absurd this is and he left the party for the nearest wall. Fred was a ghost, he was a ghost, there’s no way for either of them to be with you so why was he acting like this. Even so Fred owned a joke shop, he made people laugh for a living. So, why was he acting like this?

He sat down in the astronomy tower, he didn’t notice how far his feet took him with his thoughts on the run. He sat on the floor and rubbed his face with both his palms, sighing deeply. Wasn’t there supposed to be no hurt after death? Then what was he feeling?

Reuniting with his brother was the only good thing he could seem to come up with from being a ghost. Meeting you could’ve been the highlight of his entire being but why did it have to be under these circumstances?

“I thought you’d be here.” You said standing a couple feet away from him. Regulus always chose to walk instead of float like other ghosts do. James and Fred always floated so they could twirl and flip in the air as much as they pleased.

The ghosts always appeared in full color to you unlike ghosts who were visible to everyone like Sir Nicholas who was between black and white or transparent. Sometimes you would see him and your heart would soar seeing him real in front of you but then you’d remember and your heart would plummet going straight to the core of the earth.

“It’s a shame I told you.” He refused to look at you. You pressed your lights together tightly as you bound your hands together and you sat beside him. “Well it’s a shame you told me then.”

You looked at his side profile. Merlin! Everything about him is perfect, you thought. Especially with the moonlight illuminating his sharp features and his grey eyes reflecting the stars. It made it look like he had stars in his eyes. Feeling a restricting feeling in your chest you looked away and let out a small chuckle “You made it so dramatic too.”

You switched your voice in a poor imitation of his in a much deeper tone and mimicked, “I used to come here almost every night just to look the stars and think”

You laughed and he matched you shaking his head fondly at you. “You always use that big brain of yours too much.” You smiled at the end of your sentence.

“Why’d you leave?” you asked meekly. Most of your questions resulted in deep conversations with him, it seemed as if the more you got to know him, the more there was to learn about him.

He sighed and he shrugged his shoulders. “Hands.” Regulus ordered, and you obeyed. You turned your entire body to him and you placed both your hands -face down- in front of you. You crossed your feet under you and he did the same. He repeated your action and he placed both his hands on top of yours. He sucked in a deep breath and moved his hands from the top of your hands to the bottom. He watched as his hands went through yours.

He repeated the action for as long as it took for the message to sink in. He created this thing as a cruel reminder to what is real and what isn’t, for what could happen and what couldn’t. It was a cruel that he couldn’t be with you. He did it whenever he felt his heart give him hope because the heart will come up with whatever it wants just so it can numb it’s pain.

In his head, inevitably you will fall in love with someone and he’ll have to watch so why not just get over his feelings now. He pulled his hands away from yours and rested them on his lap. His heart now hurts but at least it now can’t fog up his mind with false hope. The universe always gave him the bad cards, he thought all the bad events that could’ve happened, happened because he died. However there were two cards that he still hadn’t been dealt yet when he died; a good one, you and a bad one, that he can’t be with you.

“I still don’t get why you do that.” you commented eyebrows furrowed as you put down your hands. Whenever you asked he would just say ‘70s’ thing and you would roll your eyes and let it slide. This time felt different though as if he was trying to break himself, and you knew you wouldn’t get an answer.

“WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING DOWN HERE WHEN THE PARTY IS DOWN THERE?” James said as he barged into the astronomy tower, Sirius and Remus following behind. Sirius ruffled regulus’ brother and you waved hello to all of them.

“What are you doing up here?” Remus asked. You had bonded with the former werewolf by opening books for him. While he could create small gusts of wind he couldn’t change anything major like opening a book though you wouldn’t consider opening a book a major thing.

“Snogging of course.” Sirius said, as he fake tutted. I wish, you thought. You laughed at his suggestion, but James went to Regulus and pinched his cheeks. “Of course not, they’re just babies.” Regulus swatted his hands away. As if James would let you come near a 20 foot radius from any guy when you’re his granddaughter.

You let out something between a scoff and a chuckle as you said “Babies my ass.” Remus shook his head and said “Language!”

You stood up trying to be at the same height as him but you failed miserably and you said “As if I didn’t learn all my swear words from you.” Remus opened his mouth before he could protest, Sirius placed his lips on his and said “She’s right, moony.”

Regulus grimaced at his brother kissing another person as any sibling would and James said “Oh! look and prude too!”

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teyamskxawng · 1 year

Text

In Heat [IV]

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Previously: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III

Keep reading: Chapter V

The rundown: As your first heat finally comes to an end, you worry that your shameless behavior put a strain on your relationship with Lo'ak.

Warnings: 18+ content, language, final angsty bits i'm sorry, characters are aged up, minors do not interact!! please

WC: 3.4k

A/N: This is a little shorter than usual but it’s mainly just filler plot before the good stuff starts next chapter (which is already done and will be posted tomorrow 🫡). No more angst!! f yeah

Training that afternoon was grueling. Lo'ak didn't know if it was because his mind was so out of it or if his father had just decided to play with death that day.

Either way, Lo'ak left the training session pissed off and sore, feeling every bruise and nick from when he couldn't dodge Jake's skilled moves in time.

The walk back home with Neteyam was just as frustrating. Lo'ak stormed ahead, aggressively pushing away any stray branch or leaf that got in his way.

Neteyam knew that his brother acted this way every time he had a tough training session, so he took it upon himself to attempt to lighten the mood.

"C'mon baby bro, you gotta get your skxawng-ass in shape," he said with a laugh, grabbing Lo'ak by the back of the head and nudging him around until Lo'ak managed to pull away with an annoyed hiss.

Neteyam took a step back, cocking an eyebrow in Lo'ak's direction.

Lo'ak, on the other hand, was in no mood to be made fun of or lectured by Neteyam. He just wanted to go back to his tent and crash for the remainder of the day. Lo'ak's mind was spinning, and he just needed a break from everything.

With that in mind, he marched ahead, reaching Hometree before everyone else in their group. Just as he was about to head to his sleeping mat for some much-needed rest, he suddenly recalled his promise to you.

Bringing you lunch was the least he could do, but facing you again in such close quarters was more than he could manage. He didn't trust himself to keep his emotions at bay.

Lo'ak knew that your heat was coming to an end, and he dreaded encountering the ever-conscious version of yourself that would definitely be able to tell how head-over-heels in love he was.

Despite the storm of emotions raging within him, Lo'ak was painfully aware that he couldn't afford to break his promise. You would go out searching for him if he failed to follow through, which was the last thing he needed.

With a long, exasperated sigh, he reluctantly took off toward his family's tent.

As if the universe was granting Lo'ak at least one small favor, the tent was mercifully empty upon his arrival. Sitting patiently for their consumption was his mother's carefully prepared lunch. It was intended for himself, his brother, and his father–a reward for a hard day of training.

He piled a veritable mountain of food high enough for two whole meals onto a spare leaf.

Lo'ak couldn't care less that he was taking not only his own serving but also snagging a portion from either his brother's or his father's share to give to you.

With clumsy haste, he wrapped and tied the meal before stealthily slipping out of the tent and making his way toward you.

Lo'ak gingerly approached your home and peered inside, relieved to find that your windows were still rolled open.

The morning's stillness had given way to a soft late-afternoon breeze, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. As he scanned inside the room, his eyes fell upon your sleeping form, curled into a ball on your sleeping mat, your breathing slow and even.

He didn't let himself linger for long.

He moved closer to the entrance, trying his best not to make any noise, and left the neatly wrapped meal just outside the foot of your tent.

He then reached out and gave the structure of your tent three loud knocks, hoping it would be enough to rouse you from your sleep.

As he stealthily returned to the window, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at disturbing your rest, but it was all for a good cause.

Lo'ak watched as you started to stir, moaning in protest at the unwanted intrusion. You sleepily sat up, rubbing your eyes and probably wondering who would dare disturb your precious sleep. He didn't stay any longer than he needed to, confident that you would find the food and get the picture that he wouldn't see you for the rest of the day.

You had no choice but to wake up to the obnoxiously loud and aggressive knocking at the front of your tent. It was a sound that would render anyone jumpy and disoriented.

You grumpily stretched your legs out in front of you, picking yourself up off the floor and forcing your legs ever so sluggishly toward the disturbance that interrupted your slumber.

To your confusion, you opened the flap to find nothing but a clumsily wrapped package containing copious amounts of grilled hexapede and banana fruit.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you took in the sight–it had to be enough food to keep a small army of children fed.

You furrowed your brows at the food, recalling that Lo'ak said he'd bring you lunch that afternoon. However, maybe naively, you had assumed it would be a shared meal.

The whopping portion of food left for you by the tent implied that the plan might not pan out after all. Either he had no clue how much was too much, or he wasn't planning on bringing anything for dinner that night.

You couldn't help but feel a little stupid for thinking that Lo'ak would be able to drop everything and be by your side all day.

You were determined not to let the situation get to you.

You brought the food inside and cautiously ate half of it, saving the rest for later. You didn't want to jump to conclusions and assume you would need it if Lo'ak never returned for dinner, but it was always better to be prepared.

After you finished eating, you spiritlessly sat at your table, restlessly tapping your fingers against your folded legs.

Suddenly, you stood up and walked over to your sleeping mat, rolling it up and stashing it away in the corner of the room. With a sigh, you made your way to your shelf of knick-knacks, which held your collection of wooden beads, half-woven tops, leather arm bands, neckpieces, visors, and shawls, all carefully arranged atop the wooden structure.

Purely out of habit, you anxiously picked up each item, placing them in piles on the floor before rearranging them all back onto the shelf.

You repeated this process multiple times, each time rearranging the items in a slightly different order until you were somewhat satisfied with the display.

You then took a step back to look at your work, only to realize that it looked exactly the same as it had initially been.

You had to physically refrain from shouting out in frustration.

Your eyes darted around the room, landing on the half-finished top you had abandoned on the shelf. You hastily grabbed it and planted yourself on the floor, mindlessly weaving the item of clothing. Your fingers expertly wove in and out of the fabric, but your mind was elsewhere.

Bizarre. Restless. That was how you felt.

You didn't feel restless in the sense that you needed to get off (which had been the case all throughout your heat), but you felt restless in the sense that you were hyper-aware of everything: the rustling of the forest outside your window, the crackling of the fire in the center of the room, and the glaring fact that you were all alone.

Even though it was now dark outside, and you were sure that dinner had come and gone, Lo'ak was still nowhere to be found.

A part of you clung to the hope that he would show up, but deep down, you knew it was a lost cause. He had left you lunch outside your door earlier in the day and made no indication that he would be returning.

As you continued to weave the fabric, you could hear the wind howling outside. It was a familiar sound that had lulled you to sleep many times before, but tonight it was different. There was an edge to it that made your skin prickle with goosebumps.

Your thoughts incessantly circled around the way you had acted towards Lo'ak and, fuck, the things you said to him throughout those past few days.

It all resonated in your head, making your heartbeat quicken with equal parts worry and embarrassment. Had your actions driven him away? Was he so uncomfortable around you that he couldn't stand to be in your company anymore? Had you ruined your lifelong friendship?

Your fingers fumbled with the weaving pattern, ruining the piece so many times you lost count.

You tossed the partially-finished top to the side, anxiously running a hand up your face, through your hair.

You needed to do something. Anything to keep your mind off the angst you felt rising to the surface all at once. So you pushed yourself to your feet, tied your hair up with a leather band, and made your way out the front door.

You managed to sneak out of Hometree, escaping to the peaceful forest that surrounded you.

Breathing in the fresh air, you took a moment to appreciate the serenity of the forest, feeling its calming aura wash over you. Finally free from the confines of your indoor prison, you relished in the feeling of the leaves brushing against your skin as you sprinted aimlessly through the forest.

With each stride, you grew increasingly invigorated, the rain puddles splashing beneath your feet as you bounded across stones and beneath looming branches.

As you ran, your thoughts began to quiet to nothing, melting away the day's tensions. You ran without a destination in mind until your lungs burned and your legs ached. Finally, breathless and exhilarated, you came to a stop, slowly catching your breath.

Satisfied with how burned-out and sore you felt, you turned back in the direction of Hometree, which now had to be a good twenty-minute walk back.

You made your way slowly back through the forest, your feet dragging with bone-deep exhaustion. As you finally approached your tent, you rolled out your sleeping mat and sank onto it with a sigh, feeling the peacefulness of the forest still humming through your veins as you fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, you woke up feeling more rested than you had in months. You sat up with a yawn, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes before you stopped in your tracks and gasped in shock.

"Holy shit," you whispered.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you woke up entirely pain-free, without the gnawing pressure on your core that you'd become so accustomed to during your cycle.

It was like a miracle had occurred overnight.

You couldn't even recall having any lust-filled dreams, and you actually woke up without the uncomfortable feeling of being all sweaty and sticky.

With a massive grin on your face, you squealed out in delight at having made it through your first (and what would undeniably be the worst) heat cycle.

You were finally at peace with yourself now that you had complete control over your emotions and hormones. You eagerly got ready in record time to leave your home and return to the world again. The thought of hiding out in your home all day and night made you feel suffocated.

You made your way towards the center of Hometree, where breakfast was already underway.

Like the previous day, before you were unceremoniously dragged away from your meal, you quickly spotted Näoo, grabbing a bowl of food and making your way over to the girl with a smile on your face.

Näoo's face lit up as she caught sight of you, her excitement evident.

"y/n! I was getting worried I wouldn't see you today," Her eyes scanned over your face, widening in delight when she saw your eyes.

Your previously dark eyes now resembled their original bright yellow, your pupils no longer blown out to extreme proportions.

"You look better than you did yesterday, yawne." Näoo said, her delight evident. "Your eyes are back to normal! How do you feel? Is your…"

She trailed off, her eyes going wide at almost screaming your business out to the entire clan. She continued at a lower volume, much to your relief. "…is your heat cycle finished?"

You smiled, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you nodded at the girl before you.

"I think so…" you replied, barely able to contain your enthusiasm.

Näoo reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tightly as she beamed at you. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice filled with joy.

You paused for a moment, unsure of how to answer the question.

On the one hand, you felt so relieved that you were back to normal, finally feeling like yourself again in your own skin. But on the other hand, you couldn't help but worry that you'd put a strain on your relationship with Lo'ak.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Näoo squeezed your hand again, urging you to go on. You hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"I feel like I messed up," you admitted in frustration, hastily biting into a piece of Spartan fruit.

Näoo's forehead creased in puzzlement, her head cocking to the side as she tried to make sense of your response. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Does this have something to do with 'you-know-who'?"

You snorted derisively at her blatant attempt at not spilling your secrets to anyone who happened to be within earshot. However, you still nodded your head in confirmation.

Näoo's expression changed dramatically, morphing from one of confusion to understanding within a matter of seconds.

"Have you spoken to him since your cycle ended?" she inquired pointedly.

The thought of approaching Lo'ak again made your stomach drop. You quickly shook your head no, which only caused Näoo's face to pinch even more in confusion.

"y/n," she admonished, "you have to talk to him! You're only making things more awkward if you don't address what happened!"

You rolled your eyes in frustration. It wasn't that you weren't aware of how much the situation between you and Lo'ak had deteriorated ever since you entered your heat, but you literally would've rather been eaten alive by a palulukan than talk to your best friend after the way you'd so brazenly acted towards him.

"Absolutely not." You vehemently shook your head.

And you absolutely did not want to discuss the topic any further. To mask your present frustration, you stuffed your mouth with a healthy serving of fruit.

Näoo noticed your childish behavior and began to roll her eyes, something you, the older of the two, usually did to her.

"So, what? You're just never going to talk to your best friend ever again?"

You shrugged. "I guess not."

Näoo knew that you were being irrational. You knew that you were being irrational.

Näoo sighed in frustration.

She inconspicuously nudged her head across the room towards the Sully family, who unfortunately included the boy in question.

You swallowed at the sight of Lo'ak, feeling your cheeks flush at the memories of what your heat-induced self said and did to the boy.

Kiri noticed you and Näoo looking their way.

She broke out into a smile, waving her hand at you both, which immediately caught Lo'ak's attention. His brows furrowed as he looked up from his food towards his sister, following her gaze all the way across the room to where you and Näoo sat.

His eyes only briefly widened as he made eye contact with you before he quickly averted his gaze towards his food, not looking back for the life of him.

You exhaled deeply, releasing the breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

You made an attempt to flash a reassuring smile at Kiri in the midst of the chaos before switching your focus back to Näoo, who appeared baffled by Lo'ak's odd demeanor towards you.

The two of you had a history of being inseparable. You were best friends, for Eywa's sake. Just yesterday, Lo'ak practically ran to you upon seeing you at breakfast. Näoo couldn't understand why he reacted so differently today.

In a dramatic flourish, you widened your eyes at Näoo, emphasizing your point. "See? He's avoiding me. Has been since yesterday afternoon."

Näoo looked back and forth between you and Lo'ak, squinting in confusion, trying to find an explanation for the boy's strange behavior. "What the hell happened yesterday afternoon, then? Did you guys get into an argument or something?"

You sighed deeply, because how could you even answer that question? What the hell did happen yesterday afternoon?

You remembered Lo'ak's words clearly, that you shouldn't have been out in public during your heat. You got pissed at his overbearing nature and told him off for telling you what to do. But deep down, you knew he was only looking out for you.

Lo'ak then tried to set a firm boundary between you both while you finished your heat cycle. But you begged him not to leave, not wanting to be alone during such a difficult time, and then proceeded to do the unthinkable right in front of him. Eventually, Lo'ak left and never came back, except to drop off enough food for two meals while you were asleep.

All signs pointed to him being so uncomfortable around you that he felt the need to put a Pandora-sized distance between you two. You felt so embarrassed and guilty that you couldn't blame him for avoiding you.

Näoo shook your shoulder as you went silent. "Well?!" She pressed.

You took a deep breath and sighed before finally opening up, "I don't even know. I think I was just too much, too forward and needy and desperate while I was in heat. He probably hates me for doing this to us."

Näoo vehemently shook her head. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"No, y/n. It's not your fault. You were under the influence of your heat. You couldn't control what was happening to you."

You shrugged your shoulders, clearly unconvinced, as Näoo continued trying to reassure you, "He could have easily said no or pulled out of the situation when you guys did stuff together. If anything, he's at fault for going through with it while you were in an altered state of mind! That little piece of–!"

You cut her off, instinctively reaching for Näoo's arm.

"That's what he said, too, right before he started avoiding me," you sighed. "But I even said that I was fully aware of what I was asking for, of what I wanted from him. That's kind of when he freaked out and said that it wasn't really me who said those things. I guess maybe…."

A lump formed in your throat at your realization. "I guess maybe he doesn't see me like that. Oh fuck, I deluded myself into believing that he did…"

Näoo's eyes softened at you as she shook her head.

"y/n. That boy is head over heels in love with you," Näoo said simply. "I said it before, and I'm saying it again now. Everyone knows it—except for you two idiots."

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Everyone knows?"

Näoo rolled her eyes at your obliviousness. "Yes, everyone. It's obvious. The way he's always by your side, the way he goes on and on about you when you're not around, the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. It's all there," Näoo said with a knowing smile.

You couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. "Really?" you asked tentatively.

"Really," Näoo confirmed.

She leaned back and crossed her arms, "Look, it sounds like you two have a lot to sit down and talk about. And I mean seriously talk. Like two adults."

Upon hearing Näoo's words, your face twisted into a grimace.

As much as you hated to admit it, Näoo was right. But you honestly couldn't imagine yourself being able to hold a conversation with Lo'ak any time in the near future.

Näoo noticed the expression on your face and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I care about you, y/n, and I know how much you care about Lo'ak—whether you want to admit you do or not. I just want to see you happy."

You smiled back at your friend, returning the reassuring gesture. "Thank you, Näoo. It really means a lot to me." You said.

Upon hearing your words, Näoo's smile grew even wider. "You're so lovesick," she snickered.

After finishing your breakfast, you promised Näoo that you would talk to Lo'ak soon. You had to, even though the very thought made you feel like you were going to throw up.

A/N pt. 2: This was originally part of the last chapter (which was getting tooooo long which is why this prob feels so weird), but next chapter is so much better I promise :)

Taglist <3:

@vanillawhale, @strawberryclouds22, @countryandsweetbabygirl, @kurogxrix, @yunonaneko, @ahsatan785, @lauratstrange, @lwesodra

Previously: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III

Keep reading: Chapter V

#teyamskxawng #teyamskxawng’s fics #lo'ak x reader #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak smut #lo'ak smut #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar 2022 #atwow #lo'ak x y/n #lo’ak x y/n #lo'ak sully #lo’ak #lo'ak fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #james cameron avatar

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billiethepumpkin · 2 months

Note

heyo billie!! i absolutely love love love LOVE your posts so much!! your writing is amazing and i find myself being super immersed in them! if you don’t mind me asking, could i request shinsou comforting the reader after a terrible fight with their parents and they have no else to rely on so they end up just venting EVERYTHING to him??? long story short ive been struggling with that situation and it’s been hard for me :( thank you for your works and i wish you a happy day!!

Feel Small: Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: Rated R. This content is intended for those ages 18 years and older. If you are a minor, pleas do not interact.

Contains: GN!reader. Parental issues. Crossed boundaries. Comfort.

Author's Note: All characters are portrayed to be ages 18 years or older because I'm an old fuck :)

You'd been away at university. It had been winter break, though, and you had gone home to visit your parents. You ate the same dinners as when you were a child; you slept in your childhood bedroom; and you had the same conversations you'd always had. You weren't even sure how it had spiraled into the screaming match between you and your mother, but here you were, pacing back and forth with your hand on your chest, trying to come back down to earth. All you wanted to do was go home.

You paced the floor in your room, waiting for a solution to appear in front of your face. You were an adult, damnit! Sure, they were your parents, but they didn't have any right to speak to you that way. You took deep breaths, but your chest didn't get any better.

But you were home. Right? You were in the place where you had grown up. You were sleeping in the bed where you had always slept. You were eating the foods you always ate, at the same table you had always eaten at. But somehow, this time, the house felt so... small. You felt so closed in and stuck, and you just wanted to get out.

Where were you supposed to go, though? It was late. Like, really late. Normal people would have been in bed, not contemplating driving all the way back to school.

Not everyone, though.

You sent a text to Shinsou. "Are you awake?" you asked. He was roughly an hour away, closer to the school you were attending, but he was all you had right now.

"What do you think?" he texted back quickly. You couldn't help but laugh as you read it in that sarcastic, snarky tone that he always had, even with you, his partner. Shinsou was always awake.

Eventually, you ended up packing all of the things you had brought to your childhood home and driving to Shinsou's apartment just barely off campus. He opened the door to let you in, and before he could even close the door, you found yourself burying your face in his shoulder. "Hi," he muttered before kissing the side of your head. He pulled you in and softly closed the door behind you before pulling you deeper into his grip. One hand held your back, the other caressing the back of your head, and he gently shushed you as you cried into him.

Hitoshi was so gentle, so delicate. He brought you to the couch and rubbed your back as the tears rolled down your face. He didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't tell you to calm down. Shinsou just held you there in comfortable silence, waiting for you to be ready to talk.

Once your breathing steadied again, he turned to you and simply asked, "What happened?"

And when you answered, boy, did the floodgates open. You let it all out. The way you felt trapped in that house now that you've been in the real world. The way you remembered their disrespect and emotional neglect from when you were a child. The way they continued to belittle you now, to speak to you as if you were still small. They made you feel small. You couldn't handle it anymore, and you weren't sure how to move forward. Because you loved your parents, right? You always thought you had. But now, ever since they shouted at you the way they did, now that they had pushed your boundaries and disrespected you from the moment you walked into their house, you were lost.

And he just listened. Shinsou, the angel that he was, just sat there next to you and listened to you vent. He rubbed your back, tracing delicate patterns over your skin, and listened until you had gotten everything out of your system. "I'm not really sure what you need right now," he said. "I still haven't really figured out how to fix the issued with my family either."

You sighed and held your face in your hands. Both of you paused for a moment while he figured out what to say. "What I do know, though, is that you are very loved," he finally continued. "I love you to death. And I know that they love you to death, too. If you need time and space, that is okay. If you need help figuring out how to set boundaries, we'll figure that out. I am here to help you, whatever that looks like right now."

Now you started crying for a different reason. "Well, fuck, Toshi," you teased, wiping your own tears with the backs of your hands. You both giggled a little bit. "I love you a whole lot," you said, falling back onto his chest, the golden light of the only lamp in the room shrouding you in shadow and creating a halo around Shinsou's head.

Hitoshi kissed your forehead and rubbed your back some more. He held you close, trying to press all the love he could into your flesh. As long as you needed him, he'd be there, whatever that meant.

#mha #bnha #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha comfort #bnha comfort #mha shinsou #bnha shinsou #mha hitoshi #bnha hitoshi #shinsou x reader #hitoshi x reader #shinsou comfort #hitoshi comfort

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shhh-secret-time · 1 month

Text

Yeah so this is in fact going to be a two part fic! This request came from AO3 and we were able to hash out more on this fic! I pitched the idea of making it a cowboy AU and they seemed to really like that idea! So here we are! Please enjoy and look forward to part 2!

Warning: Strong-Language, Gun Violence, Blood (Minor), Writer doesn't know how guns work!

Pairing: Gunslinger!Kyle x Fem!Reader

Colorado was an untamed lawless wasteland, at least that's what most people out East would tell you. Between talks of untapped land and the rumors of gold mines out that way, people were scrambling to find out there. But not all men had fortune and discovery in their hearts. Some had things to hide, pasts they intend to bury deep in the desert sands.

You were one of those people. As an heir to your family's printing press, it was only natural that from the time you were born a target would be painted on your back. Distant family members, friends of the family, hell even the butler once thought if they got their hands on you, they could use you as leverage. Kidnapping, attempted murder, blackmail, and threats all before the age of sixteen. You'd seen and heard it all. And every time it got harder and harder to want to stick around.

Now here you were twenty something and unwed. Parents long buried having left you everything as they always said they would. You were alone with all the money one person could ever need, and it was so incredibly lonely.

After a while you just kind of became desensitized to the attempt at your life. But no one really gets used to being so alone. How were you supposed to make a connection with people, when all that ever came up was the talk of marriage or your money.

Truly you were grateful for your parents, and you did love them! After all they were good to you, they protected and loved you. That protection morphed and twisted into an overbearing relationship. Up until now you weren't allowed to go out on your own, they decided who you interacted with. Your tutor you had known for years had to go through a background check by the Pinkertons every few months just to remain employed.

So, again, when they passed it was like being thrown out into the ocean and told to swim. If the business was to stay afloat you would have to learn to be sociable and professional. Learn to swim in the shark infested waters of a male dominated field.

Or you could sell the company to the highest bidder and bounce. Which is what you decided to do. Auction out your family’s printing company and try to retire in the lap of luxury. Maybe start your own book using all that tutoring your parents got you.

But it could never be that easy, could it? Once word got out about your plans to sell it all, certain people started plotting against you. It all came ahead one night when you were getting ready for bed. You blew out the candles that kept your bedroom lit, closed your windows, and locked your doors. Double checked them a few times before finally deciding to lay your head down for the night.

A lot of good that did. As soon as you close your eyes, a gloved hand cups your mouth. Another pair goes for your arms and legs, you feel the coarse hemp rope across your skin. Another night, another attempt at your life.

Your attackers must've not heard that the heir to the printing press was no damsel in distress. Quick as they came, your hands shot under the pillow next to you, the side of your bed that lay bare. Except for the .38 derringer that you slept with; two shots loaded in the chamber. Two intruders and still two shots were all you needed.

Click. Bang.

You stand there watching the sheriff and his posse drag the intruders off in their wagon, a blanket thrown over your shoulders by said sheriff. He sits next to you with his badge gleaning off the dull light from the city’s lampposts, a cigar tucked in between his teeth.

"You know this is the third attempted break in this month." He says puffing on the brown tobacco.

"I know." You mumble, bringing the blanket closer to your form.

"And the third time my men had to take in men with bullets in their chests. You're lucky you're a fine shot or I'd have to take you in for murder." He doesn't look at you, but you can hear the danger in his voice. See the way he inspects the cigar, holding it between his fingers.

"Sheriff?" You look up at him with furrowed brows.

A chill runs down your spine when he finally meets your eyes. The smirk that slowly creeps up his lips says it all.

"Now that's not to say I don't believe you. From what I've heard you got quite the record when it comes to things like this." He gestures vaguely with the tip of the cigar before continuing, "just find it kinda odd it keeps happening to you."

"You think I ask for this?" You ask back with a little more frustration in your voice than you should. Could you really be blamed for it though? The sheriff who was supposed to protect you, keep you safe from things like this, was sitting here blaming for the actions of stupid men.

"I don't think you do anything to prevent it. Just strange that a lady in her prime lives alone and isn't going about means of protection besides what...a gun under her pillow?" He blows out smoke that illuminates under the same light that touches his badge, the heavy white smoke lifts from his lips towards the night sky.

You honestly couldn't believe what you were hearing. That shiver that went down your spine spread throughout your body, making your blood run cold. Men breaking into your home you could handle, but a person with actual power? This was a battle you couldn't fight, not alone anyway.

"I'm sorry sheriff." You bite your tongue until you taste blood. "You're right. I should do something about this."

That was the best advice that asshole could have given you. To find someone in your corner. To find someone who can smuggle you out of the state and across the country. Finding someone who you could trust to not immediately shoot you in the back or run off with your money.

After searching around and pushing the word out there as subtly as you could, you finally catch wind of someone who fits the bill. You'd have to push a few dollar bills into the right hands, greasy palms, and all that, but you eventually get a name.

Kyle Broflovski.

That name carried weight, made your tongue feel heavy when you said it. The kind of reputation that he had wasn't one to take lightly. Over thirty bounties turned in alive and done by hand. While the number of bounties he brought in may not have been the largest out there, it was the fact he took down only the worst of the worst. The number on the bounty poster meant nothing to him, it was all about what the target had done. He was exactly what you were looking for, a man who could see past the money.

Now it all came down to arranging a meeting with him. Even a shut in like yourself knew the best place to find what you were looking for was the local saloon. The only thing left to do was dress down and try to convince the famous gunslinger that you desperately needed his help.

The smell of cigarettes and cheap booze was the first to greet you and you hadn't even opened the door yet. You could see boot prints made in the sawdust scattering across the floor. The cheery show tunes being played behind the door almost drowned out the sound of laughter. Before you could push open the door, a man came flying out being thrown by another gentleman. He hits the stairs and slumps down next to your foot. The poor man hit his head pretty hard, enough for it to put him to sleep.

With a little gulp you ignore the shaky feeling in your legs and push the dark wooden doors open. Maybe the thick brown cloak thrown over your form wasn't doing the best job at helping you blend it, but on the other hand most of the people here seemed to be enthralled by the women playing upstage to even care that you walked in. The girls dressed in flashy clothing were dolled up in the brightest makeup you've ever seen. They were gorgeous and the performance they put on brought life to this place, it was no wonder why people could lose themselves.

Your eyes scan the room as you scurry away from the door. People coming in and out, pushing past you like you weren't even there. The entire situation made your anxiety spike, being in such an unfamiliar place.

Somehow your legs carry you over to the bar. Taking a seat at the scuffed wooden counter, you note just how many empty shot glasses are covering the surface. Empty plates that looked like they were dipped in grease. Stained glasses that had thick amber liquid, the kind that burned your throat just looking at it. You tried not to look at the bar too much when you caught sight of faded red stains.

You take a deep breath and steady yourself before trying to flag down the bartender’s attention. A woman with tan skin and dark red hair. The bags under her eyes are so dark you don't think she understands the concept of sleep. Two cross tattoos just under her amber looking eyes lead your own down to her outfit. The light blue vest she's wearing makes her skin pop, somehow her nail polish isn't chipped or scratched in anyway. You watch as she takes a bottle of liquor by slotting it between her index finger and her middle finger.

She must have sensed your eyes on her because she side eyes you for a moment. The woman flips the bottle over and pours a clear liquid into a small shot glass. Once the drink is poured, she slides it down the bar and it lands in the hand of another patron. It takes her but a second to put the bottle down, wipe her hands off, and then approach you with a cigarette dangling from her lips.

"You're new here, aren't you?" She asks like she already knows the answer to that question.

"I... I am. I was just...looking for a drink." Not a complete lie, at this point a drink would help calm your nerves.

"Is that so?" Her brow shoots up. The bartender takes the cigarette from her lips and blows out a thin wisp of smoke. She crosses her arm under her chest and gestures for you to continue.

You look up towards the various brown and orange glass bottles behind her. Brands and names you've never heard of before lined the shelf. It isn't until you get to the higher up shelves that you find something you recognize. A bourbon, darker than most. Something your father used to have from time to time.

You lift your finger and gesture to the bottle. She follows it and lets out a little hum.

"The bourbon? Hm. Color me shocked. Alright."

"Two shots...please."

She stops and looks back at you with the bottle in her hand. A small smirk plays on her lips. "See that's how I know you're not from around here. Most people don't say please. Much less recognize a good brand. Most of these assholes just drink rotgut like it's the end of the world."

"I am a bit out of my element." You run your fingers over the wood, brushing your fingertips over the carvings. Wondering what the story was behind each little chip and groove.

Like before she takes two shot glasses between her fingers and places them down on the bar. The bottle is uncorked with a satisfying thoonk. You watch as the liquid catches the bright lights of the bar, making the amber shimmer with the candlelight.

"No kidding. What brings you here?" Once she's finished pouring your drinks she puts the bottle back under the counter. Her hands make themselves busy by collecting the dirty glasses, putting them off to the side.

"I'm looking for someone. Someone said I could find him here."

Like something straight out of one of your penny and dime novels, she begins cleaning the inside of the glass with a rag. When she doesn't say anything, it makes you shift nervously in your seat, but she eventually nods expecting you to continue.

"He's a gunslinger. Tall from what I've heard. Bright red hair?" You do your best to describe a man you've never met. You make a gesture with your hands by your head of his rumored fluffy red hair.

Before you could continue the woman stops cleaning the crystal-clear glass. She puts it down with a loud thud making the men next to you jump and look away. You hadn't even noticed your conversation was garnering attention. She lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah, you really aren't from around here. Let me give you a little advice. The man you're describing has a bit of a reputation around here. Only comes around when he's intending to collect."

You blink up at her.

"Bounties sweetheart." She snuffs out the cigarette with a little chuckle. You must have looked like a newborn dear the way you looked at her. Blushing a bit at the thought, you try to push it down. Suddenly the little glass of alcohol in front of you looks far more interesting.

"But my contact said he'd he here."

"Your contact isn't wrong." She pauses for a moment. "Man at your six- don't look." She hisses as you go to turn your head.

"Sorry." You squeak out, snapping your head back towards her.

"Man at your six is wanted in four different states. Highway robbing, harassment, nasty attitude...a perfect blend of asshole."

"Oh..."

"Men like that bring the gunslinger. Now I don't know what you want with someone like him, and I don't want to know. But if you want his attention, when he gets here you had better work fast." She looks down at you as she rubs her neck.

"Wh... why?"

"Because he'll drag that idiot out to the streets and probably duel him. Win. Tie him up and take him into the sheriff's office. Collect his bounty and move on."

"You talk like you know him." It was time for that liquid courage. You knock back the drink and grimace at the taste. It burns and claws its way down your throat.

The bartender lets out a little laugh at your reaction, or maybe it's your question. "I've been around for a while."

"She's also full of shit. She talks like I'm a gun lovin' nut." The low whispering voice next to you makes you turn in your seat.

He's a bit shorter than described but still pretty tall. His hair is exactly as you imagined it to be, curls sticking out from under his usual green cowboy hat. The way his emerald, green eyes peer down at you makes you shrink in your seat. They widen a bit as you squirm away, so he decides to move his head up towards the bartender who's got a smirk on her face.

"You gonna tell me I'm wrong?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.

"No, no just that you make me sound much more dangerous than I am. Just a simple man tryin' to earn enough to eat." He says with a chuckle.

And when he smiles at her, lips curled up so softly. Every part of this man looks so gentle. Even the green tattered sarape around his body looks warm and inviting. It was hard to believe someone so soft looking had a reputation. On the other hand, it made it easier to approach him, maybe this wouldn't be so hard.

The drink you bought for him would probably help too. You recall all the times your father would pour his business partners a drink before pitching a new idea. So, you take the shot glass and scoot it towards him. He blinks down at it before letting out a little chuckle.

"You've got this backwards ma'am. S'pose to be the other way 'round. Man's supposed to buy a pretty woman a drink." Despite it all he takes the shot, and in his hands, it looks too small. He holds it up to you and downs it without blinking. The corners of his lips twitch and his hooked nose wrinkles a bit, looks like he wasn't expecting the stronger stuff.

His compliment makes your cheeks burn; you twist the material of your cloak in your hands. "Well...nothing says a lady can't buy a gentleman a drink, does it?"

"I reckon not. Just ain't used to it s'all." He puts the glass down with a gentle tap. "But you're sittin' in this here bar all by your lonesome askin' for me. So... here I am. Somethin' I can help ya with?"

How much of your conversation with the bartender had he heard? Enough to make you nervous that other people were listening in. Your hands lowered to the derringer strapped to your thigh, under the long skirt no one knew it was there. You palmed the handle and took a deep breath. There was no real plan to use it, but it brought you a little comfort. Just a reminder that it was there.

"Yes I-"

You're cut off by the sound of screams. From a few of the waitresses and working ladies to be exact. You look over your shoulder, it's coming from your six. Where the bartender told you not to look.

A burly man stands up and when he does, he looms over most of the men in this establishment. Slicked back short black hair tucked inside a crumpled up old bowler. For all the grime and dirt on the man the one thing you could give was that his handlebar mustache looked nice. The rest of him, not so much.

His voice bellows out, bringing an end to upbeat show tunes. "Broflovski! Yous here fer my head ain't ya!"

The man grins like he's proud of the fact that he's garnered such attention. The way he carries himself almost has you fooled if it wasn't for the bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face.

"Not at the moment, no. I was in the middle of havin' a conversation. Rather rude to interrupt a lady Knucklehead." You don't know if Kyle is calling the man a knucklehead or that's just some stupid bandit name.

Either way he sneers and with a flick of his wrist he tosses the gamblers table to the side. Chips and cards go flying up in the air, the poor dealer scrambles to get out of the way.

"I don't care if you was havin' breakfast with the fuckin' Queen of England! You shoulda know better than ta come in 'ere without a lil' backup. See I ain't one fer duelin' so we're gonna have ta do this the ol' fashion way. With yous layin' face down in the dirt bleedin' out ta death!" He whistles and a few more men sitting at other tables stand up.

Couldn't have been more than five or six, every single one of them equipped with some kind of weapon. Rusty nails pushed into wooden boards. Chains being spun around so fast it creates a little breeze. The sounds of their spurs jangling as they start to step closer.

Kyle puts his hands up defensively, the laid-back smile he had on his face falls when they get closer. "Now come on, can't we talk this out. Like I said, I ain't finished my conversation. It'd do you well to learn some manners. Call your men off."

He's not asking. The way he narrows that dark greens at the man makes the room feel cold. For a minute you think you see a spark in those eyes, a glint of something dangerous.

"God damn it..." You almost don't catch the bartender behind you mumbling, but you do hear the rack of a gun clear as day.

It's quiet all except for the way Knucklehead growls, deep and low in his chest. Despite having all these men, he still somehow looks like an animal backed into a corner. The bead of sweat trailing down his face travels lower. Down his cheek, towards his jawline where it hangs. Then...it falls. Drips onto the sawdust covered floor.

Plip

Click. Bang.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling someone's hands on your shoulder. You're hoisted in the air and thrown over the bar, you can hear the way glass shatters. Another collection of screams, and then nothing but groaning. When you open your eyes, you're in the arms of the bartender, the woman has the both of you pulled down and tucked behind the bar. Safe certainly isn't the word you'd use here, but it was better than being in the crossfire.

She's got another cigarette lit in her mouth; a shot gun pointed up towards the ceiling. You strain your ears, but you think you can hear her counting in Spanish. You can smell the gunpowder in the air, it's almost as thick as the tension. Then there's a different sound. A grunt of pain and the sound of a chair being broken.

"Thought you could really take us all on?! You're fucking daft!"

The gunslinger lets out a strained laugh, wiping the blood off the corner of his mouth. Splinters of the wooden chair catch in his curls. The man took a hit from the gorilla and is still standing. Well, more like leaning over the side of the bar for support, but nevertheless his eyes are still open.

"Daft is a big word for you Knucklehead. Gotta give it to you!" His voice sounds strained and broken. You catch the way he's struggling to breathe yet still has it in him to snap back.

Without thinking you take the shotgun from the bartender and before she can protest you lower the barrel towards the man. He seems surprised to see you jump up from behind the bar, he must have really not cared that you were there. But a loaded gun that can shoot slugs the size of an acorn sings a different tune.

"Now missy...this ain't got nothin' ta do with you. Yous don't wanna get yourself wrapped up in somethin' I don't think you can handle." Knucklehead's eyes lower to the gun in your hand, the gravity of the situation sinks in. Not enough for him to let the gunslinger’s throat go, but enough to where he's contemplating backing away.

"Let him go. Let him go and back away." You keep your voice steady, that nervous air about you slips away and a different mask comes on.

That mask you've had to wear every time you look danger in the eyes. You don't see a man choking a bounty hunter to death, you see a large target. A light you could snuff out with a twitch of your index finger. You can see it in his eyes, the way he looks down at Kyle, whose smirk has returned. Then back up at you, staring down the barrel of the shot gun. It's cold double barrel unblinking eyes.

"Whattya say Knucklehead... feelin' lucky?" Kyle is able to put a little distance between Knucklehead's hands and his throat. Enough to take another gasp of air and spout some cocky one-liner.

It must have pushed the brute over the edge because he went to move again. If you had to guess it would be to lift Kyle up and use him as a shield. But he doesn't get that far. Doesn't even make it past a muscle twitch because your trigger finger is faster. For the second time that night shots ring out, but this time it's only the bandits scream that fill the air. He goes flying back letting the red head go.

If it wasn't for the bartender, you would have gone flying back as well. The force of a shotgun wasn't something you were used to. Compared to your derringer’s little kicks, the shot gun was in a league all on its own. Her hands keep your body steady, holding you by the waist. She lets out a puff of smoke and sighs.

"Nice shot." Once she realizes you're okay to stand on your own, she breaks the silence with praise and lets you go.

"O-oh...um thanks." It makes your face flare up; the fact the entire bar’s attention is now on you. The wondering eyes make you squirm and want to shrink back down behind the bar.

"Shoot a man dead in his chest and ya get a little flustered over a compliment." Kyle laughs in between trying to catch his breath, his coughs sound painful.

You avert your eyes from him, like it will do your blushing face any favors. Trying to ignore the way his laugh makes your body burn. Something about it makes you feel a bit tingly. It's either that or the adrenaline coursing through your veins. They land on the man bleeding out on the floor. He's clutching his sides spouting so much profanity you feel like you need to confess at the church just hearing it.

Just as Kyle finally gets the ability to breath properly again, the sheriff and his men come bursting through the door. The same sheriff who you had a problem with. The same one who put you on this crazy path. Once again, things could never just be simple. Every little fucking thing had to get in your way.

His eyes fall on the man first, then on you. Then on the gun in your hands and you immediately groan. Of course, he had to come in just as you slugged a man. With a scoff, he gestures to his men to round up the other bleeding bandits. Kyle was able to take down the other group by himself. Their leader using the men as bait so he could close the distance.

You push the shotgun back into the bartenders’ hand and sigh. Kyle watches as you lift your skirt and put your foot on the counter. Without a second thought he offers you his hand and helps you down off the bar. You take it and allow yourself a quick smile. One the sheriff is quick to wipe away.

"It's always you. I guess I didn't make myself very clear." He says with a sneer. "I thought you were smarter than this, seems I was the one mistaken."

You shoot him a look, brows furrowed in confusion. "Sheriff, I didn't start this! I was just defending my um..."

Friend? Soon to be employee? Guy I just bought a drink for. Shot another man for?

"I wasn't talking to you woman!" He snaps, eyes flickering between yours and Kyle's. When they land on the man his eyes narrow. "Was talkin' about this one! Coming into my town, causing trouble! Think just because your daddy was a lawyer you're above the law!"

The look the red head gives him would be enough to kill. Death himself would answer that call. You watch a vein pop out from the side of his temple, his hat and hair barely covering it. Kyle didn't even show that much anger towards the man who threatened his life and interrupted his conversation.

"Sheriff Cartman I wouldn't have to come to this town and clean up your mess if you and your men did your fucking job!" Kyle hisses through gritted teeth, emphasizing the word this like he's reminding the sheriff the town doesn't belong to him.

"I should've known better than to think you could be anything but trouble! I should haul you in with the rest of 'em!" Cartman's voice is dangerous, completely immune to the looks he's getting from Kyle.

"On what grounds?!"

"On the grounds that I'm the fucking sheriff and I'm sick and tired of your bullshit!"

"That ain't enough to bring me in you fat son of a bitch!"

"Let's go ahead and tack on threatenin’ a man of the law to that too! Wanna keep going Kyle?!"

Cartman uses his first name so casually. The air grows heavy again as the two men get into each other space. Neither go for their weapons instead fingers curl around the collar of each other's shirt. Kyle looks like a lit fuse ready to blow and Cartman is just adding fuel to an already dangerous fire.

"A-Actually Sheriff! If I may!" You don't know what compelled you to put yourself in between the two bickering men. Guess there was a little left in the old adrenaline tank, taking down a man twice your size will do that to you.

"What?! Get in my way and I'll make sure to slap you with a fine as well! Helping a criminal won't look good on your record!"

"Criminal!?"

"Gentleman! I believe the lady is trying to talk! Now you either let her talk, or you take this shit outside!" The bartender cuts them both off by slamming her hands on her bar. Her voice isn't loud but it's enough to make both men stop.

The sheriff mumbles something under his breath that makes the bartender narrow her eyes. He turns to you giving you the floor.

"Sheriff just...please hear me out." You've dealt with men like the sheriff before. Men who think they're the smartest man in the room, so it's best to just make them think they're right.

"Fine. Go ahead."

"Thank you. Y-you see...I was just following your advice! You told me to find some help and that's what I did!" As you explain yourself Kyle's brows furrow in confusion. "I was looking to hire Mr. Broflovski here."

"Didn't realize you were selling yourself out now Kyle. Bounty hunting too hard for you?" The sound Kyle's teeth makes as they grind together makes your breath hitch.

"If Mr. Broflovski here agrees, I'd like for him to take me out west. If you think about it this is the best outcome. You wouldn't have to deal with me anymore and I'd be taking him with me."

"Now hold on-"

Cartman cuts him off like he's not even there, at this point Kyle's face matches his hair. "You're leaving? Jesus christ why didn't you lead with that!"

"Yeah..." You smile and let out a little sigh, the whole situation would be a lot funnier if it wasn’t you.

"I tell you what...you leave tonight. You and that ginger fuck get out of my town, my state, my side of the country! I'll give you an hour and if you're not out of here. I'll run you down like dogs!" Sheriff Cartman looks pleased with himself and the whole idea, but the more he speaks the more it comes through gritted teeth.

"Two hours."

"One and a half, only because I'm in a good mood." He clicks his tongue and turns on his heel. "Plus, however long it takes for my useless deputy to book these assholes." Cartman turns his back on both of you and walks towards his posse.

Great. You had an hour and a half to get out of town and you hadn't even asked the famous gunslinger if he was even willing to do this.

"Well, I reckon we outta be on our way." Kyle breaks your thoughts with the sound of his voice.

You look up at him with your eyes widened. He smiles down at you and flicks up his hat, moving the brim out of his face.

"No need to look at me like that. You told the Sheriff we'd be outta here so let's get a move on." He speaks.

Kyle makes his way towards the double doors without so much as a goodbye. You go to follow him but stop, turning back towards the woman behind the bar who is just picking up the broken glass scattered around the bar.

"Um...ma'am." When you call out for her, she turns and looks in your direction.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

".... You’re welcome, now get outta here. You wouldn't last a day behind bars, so go on. Get."

A soft smile plays on your lips. She was right, you had a long road ahead of you.

The bartender looks back over her shoulder when she hears the double doors close again. She let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. As she stands up with the metal pan filled with broken glass, her head lulls to the side.

"What I wouldn't give to be a tumbleweed following them. Ya got your work cut out for you Broflovski." A smirk plays on her lips.

Kyle leads you out towards the stables where he kept his horse. She was a pretty horse, a blend of brown and whites painting down her back. She doesn't stir much until Kyle gets closer, when he's within reach she bends down and presses her head against his hand.

He smiles and touches the side of her face, petting the sides gently. There was that soft and warm feeling you got when he first sat down next to you. Even after the bar fight and the whirlwind of events that happened, he found a way to go back to being so gentle. When he turns to look back at you, you quickly find something else to look at. Suddenly the saddle on the back of his horse looks so very interesting.

"I don't s'pose you got your own horse, do ya?" he asks as he unhitches his horse from the post.

"No, I don't. I... wouldn’t even know how to go about riding one." That seems to catch him off guard.

"Hm... We’ll have plenty of time to fix that. For now." Kyle walks over to you and whispers a, ‘pardon me'. His gloved hands cup your hips and lift you up. He lifts you like a child would their doll, like you weigh nothing. He sets you down on the back of his horse, guiding your legs over the side of the large creature.

It feels so strange, the way something so powerful just stands there letting him do it. You cling to the saddle for dear life as it takes a few steps forward and then back. If you had to guess she was just as surprised as you were.

Kyle swings himself up onto the horse shortly after. He puts his arms around your waist, being oh so careful on where he lets his arms rest. His hands find the reigns and it forces him to get closer. Close enough to where you can feel his chest against your back.

You can feel his heart beating against his chest, it makes you feel a little better knowing he seems to be just as nervous as you. At the very least that's what you're telling yourself. You can't see his face, unable to move any part of your body out of fear of falling off.

No, you can't see the blush that’s creeping across his freckled face. Can't see the way it trails down his neck, disappearing behind the layers of his clothes. You would never know how much he's mentally screaming at himself to get a grip.

"Gonna be a little uncomfortable at first. Just bear with me for a while. As soon as we hit the next town, we'll see what we can do about gettin' you your own horse." With that he clicks his tongue and snaps the reigns.

You let out the smallest squeak as the horse goes from a gentle little trot to a full-on sprint. Your hands fly out to grab onto Kyle's arms using the cowboy to steady yourself. A part of you thinks about asking him to just go ahead and drop you off at the holding cell. At least then you could die behind bars and never make such embarrassing noises again. The other part of you felt a twinge of excitement when you heard him chuckle. Feeling the way it made his chest vibrate low. It kept you warm against the cold wind that rushed past you.

It doesn't take long before Kyle feels your body go slack. He peers down at you and feels his heart leap up in his throat. You were tucked up against his chest, arms wrapped around your frame fast asleep. He only wishes that he could slow down so he can take off his sarape and bundle you up in it. Instead, he settles for pulling you closer, caging you in his arms. He'd do everything in his power to make sure the ride was at least a smooth one and by the time you'd wake up, hopefully, he'd have you out of town. And hopefully then he can get more details about this job he blindly accepted from you.

For now, he'd let you sleep as he rode out towards the moon. Nothing but the wind at his back and the large pale light to his front.

Next Chapter ->

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lipstickitty · 2 months

Text

I Wanna Be Yours

Chapter One

Jake Kiszka x Demon!reader

1k+ words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS GO AWAY!! talk of death, reader is a demon, Jake is a sweet angel baby love, eventual smut

Having been born centuries ago, you had watched the world transform entirely before your eyes more times than you could count. Being orphaned at a young age, you had struggled your way through every day of your human life with a heavy heart and the weight of the world on your shoulders. You’d fought tooth and nail for even the most basic of necessities and gone without plenty of times before. Which is why, when a stranger showed up on the dark path leading to your makeshift home after a long night of trying to scrounge up enough money to eat on, you decided to hear him out for his strange offer rather than panicking right away. ‘How much worse could things get?’ You’d thought to yourself as the man introduced himself as Malachi, a demon in a salesman position of sorts.

His job was to find mortals who lived miserable lives, those who suffered daily, and offer them whatever their hearts desired in exchange for their souls. You’d be “recruited” so to speak, as a demon, and assigned a job based on your skills and talents, very similar to human jobs really.

Due to your smooth talking skills and no nonsense attitude you’d been hired as a succubus- sapping energy and claiming souls of those unlucky enough to fall into bed with you.

Suffice it to say, you’d met quite a few men in your lifetime. Countless, even. But you’d never encountered another soul like Jake Kiszka, not in all your centuries on this earth. Though you were technically a demon, you remembered being human and took pity on those you felt deserving of it. You only set your sights on the skeeviest, most depraved and revolting of men, seeing it as the consequences of their own actions. The good men, the kind men, those only trying to provide for themselves and their families, you left alone. Their souls were worth more than that to you. Jake’s soul was worth more than that to you.

You’d met Jake at your day job at your local bookstore. Independently owned, you were the assistant store manager and as such you got a lot of say in what books and other merchandise were carried, which you delighted in. You adored filling the store with a vast variety of different genres, truly something for everyone. You took special pride in your occult section, you were a demon after all.

One day, Jake had come in while you were just coming off your lunch break. As soon as you’d clocked in, he’d awkwardly said hi to you and blushed when you smiled in his direction. Part of your succubus charm was the effect you had on men, making them nervous and enthralled with you at first glance even if you never intended to take them to bed. “Hi sweetheart, I’m y/n! Ya looking for anything special today?” You cheerfully greeted him.

“Oh, nice to meet you y/n, I’m Jake! Well, Jacob- or- Jake… whichever… anyway, uh, yeah, I was really hoping you could point me towards the history section- biographies and such on, like, musicians or historical figures, or… ya know…” he trailed off with a nervous clearing of his throat.

“Oh yeah, of course, Jake! Follow me, I’ll show you!” You linked your pinky with his, leading him to the section he was looking for. “Any specific thing you’re interested in, Jake?” You asked with a bright smile.

“Oh, pirates, mostly… kinda nerdy but I find it very interesting… fascinating, actually.” He giggled. “Ah, makes sense.” You grinned, gesturing to his necklaces layered on his mostly bare chest. His cheeks flushed the most adorable shade of pink, muttering, “yeah I guess that does make sense.” With a chuckle, not quite meeting your gaze.

“Hey, don’t be shy about your interests, Jake! I love seeing people be passionate about their interests! I’ve read a lot of these myself! What you’re looking for is gonna be over here, honey” you point out the books in question. You smile and go to turn away but he clears his throat once more, stopping you in your tracks. “Listen, I know this is kinda forward but I think you’re fucking gorgeous and I’d love to hear any insider tips you have on the best books here. Can I- give you my number? And we can… swap book recommendations, or maybe hang out sometime?” He stammers out, barely meeting your eyes.

“Jake, sweetie, I don’t date, and not to be too blunt here, but I don’t sleep around either, not in the way you’re used to. I’d love to be friends, we could grab coffee or swap music or books and catch up, but I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I couldn’t be good for you, I’d only hurt you, and you seem like an honestly good man. I’m good at reading people, and I couldn’t hurt someone like you. We can swap numbers and get coffee when I’m done here, okay?” You looked in his eyes and held his hands with yours while you spoke, handing him your phone to put his number inside. When the shock wore off, he slid his phone to you to do the same.

“I’ll text you later, Jake. It was really nice meeting you.” You gave him a genuine, warm smile as you walked away to get back to work. You managed to keep the smile on your face for the rest of the shift, and help all the customers that needed you, but you felt dread settle in your chest when you thought about the beautiful boy that had walked in and turned your world upside down. You wanted nothing more than to throw yourself at him, get to know him, keep him all to yourself. But given your nature, you knew it wasn’t fair to do so knowing you couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t get hurt.

You knew the safest thing for the both of you was to stay far away from Jake Kiszka, not let it go any further than that first interaction. But in all your years you’d never felt the kind of magnetism that you’d felt towards the brown eyed boy you’d just met. You knew you’d try and be his friend, selfishly wanting to keep him in your life in any capacity. You knew Jake would be your undoing.

Tags: @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @gracev0609

#jtk x reader #jtk x demon!reader #jtk smut #jake kiszka fanfic #jake gvf

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the-damnable-fool · 5 months

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tinfoil hat time: the devs wanteD Sophia to be a pseudo-love interest to P but GASP, not only she is technically older than P (and even Carlo by default, she looked like a young teen when Carlo was a child) she also looks older (in the last render at least). cant have a female love interest looking, acting and behaving older than the mc, noo sire.

Uhhhhhhhhh I don't know about that one chief. First off, Romeo is definitely firmly first in the running for P's potential love interest when you take a look at their history as characters. Secondly, Sophia and P don't really have any sort of chemistry to speak of. Thirdly, and most importantly, Sophia's motivation to find P was almost entirely selfish. I don't doubt that she cared about him and wanted him to succeed for other reasons too, but she also really, really wanted to be freed from the Arche Abbey (and life itself).

That does, however, allow me to segue into another gripe about the storytelling of Lies of P. Sorry for hijacking your ask for this purpose, but its happening.

Why the hell was the MC a silent protagonist?

Actually, I know that answer. It's because Dark Souls did it, and this game wears its influences on its sleeve.

But why does it work better in Dark Souls and worse in Lies of P? Simple. In Dark Souls, the MC isn't really a character.

You see, in any Souls game, there are a couple things you can take as read from the beginning. First, the world is going to be transitioning from an age of light into an age of darkness. Second, the great heroes of the world are going to be corrupted or insane. Third, the protagonist is a mere pea sized insect trawling through the ruins of a once great civilization. These are the constants.

These constants lend themselves to a silent protagonist because the protagonist is merely a vessel for the player. They have no history. No motivations. No relationships or connections. They're merely a vehicle by which the player experiences the bygone grandeur of the world around them. In Dark Souls, you aren't a great hero or anyone of consequence, you're just the one that gets to come by and put them down after they've gone mad. Sure, your choices may affect the fate of the world, but who you are is ultimately of no consequence because you are overshadowed by what has come before you and what you represent. You're not a person in dark souls.

But in a story in which the main character is an established character with relationships and feelings, that all begins to break down. You cannot be the blank-slate player stand in and a fleshed out character at the same time. Lies of P's MC (I don't call him Pinnochio because I don't think that name is ever uttered in game) is a person with history to him. Granted, he doesn't remember most of it, and its arguable that he's a different entity from Carlo entirely, but he's still an established character with his own struggles, relationships, and so forth.

I've been rambling for a bit now, but the gist of what I'm trying to say here is that having the MC be a silent protagonist just doesn't really work when you're trying for a more character focused story. The MC isn't The Nameless Undead or some gothically titled hero of myth, he's Geppetto's puppet. His actions only have real consequence to about a dozen people (I stand by this estimation because the vast majority of Krat is dead). Having other characters talk to him and form relationships with him comes across as odd when he never talks back or voices his own thoughts or opinions on the subject. It's like they're trying to make friends with a wall, but they seem convinced that that wall has its own thoughts and opinions even though that's never actually demonstrated.

Circling back to the original Ask, I don't think that Sophia is a love interest for the MC for the same reason that I think that none of the characters were intended as love interests for the MC. Love is a two way street, and you can't have a good love story if one of the lovers doesn't talk to the other. Giving the MC a voice and his own concrete personality and character separate from the whims of the player could've made room for a love story and greater character exploration, but that's not the route they chose to take, and I'm personally of the opinion that that was the wrong move.

#asks #lies of p #carlo lies of p #media critique #sophia lies of p #lies of p spoilers

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sitp-recs · 1 year

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Hi, first of all i want to say thank you for all of your recs. Thanks to you i found a lot of beutiful fics🤩

I wanted to ask for two kind of recs please:

1. Do you know fics where thay are in a secret relationship or at least they think its a secret?

2. Do you know fics that deal with harry's childhood trauma and abuse?

Thank you😊

Thank you so much! I’m thrilled that you enjoy the recs. I have a reclist for Secret relationship already, and here are some fics that deal with Harry’s abusive childhood:

Snug by @moonflower-rose (E, 6k)

Potter can't keep his hands off himself. Draco can't look away.

It Never Occurred to Me That I Would Fall in Love With a Frenchman by lamerezouille (T, 6.5k)

Harry kisses Draco in a public place. All hell breaks loose.

Darker Than You Think by Lomonaaeren (M, 8k)

Draco and Harry have been together for some time before Draco learns about the abuse Harry suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. Harry expected him to explode. But what he wants is to explode with Harry’s permission—and he’s perfectly willing to seduce that permission out of Harry if he doesn’t get it any other way.

Timeshare by astolat (M, 14k)

“It’s not for long,” Hermione said. “By the time we get back to Hogwarts, the Unfettering Brew will be ready.”

Conquering the Dark by noeon (E, 23k)

Harry's a Healer specialising in the care of children, Draco Malfoy's an expert in neuromagic at St Mungo's. A difficult case forces them to work together and, in the process, unearths some of the trauma of the past, as well as the chance for healing in the present.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil (E, 36k)

Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

Boiling Point by @goldentruth813 (M, 43k)

After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they're forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over.

A Piercing Comfort by talithan (T, 44k)

When Harry Potter hits the lowest point of his life so far, it is not his friends who keep him honest. With Draco Malfoy's patience and guidance, Harry learns to stand on his own. The thing is, after the fact—he's no longer sure he wants to.

The Ties that Bind by phoenix_writing (NR, 60k)

Upon Andromeda's death, Harry and Draco are given custody of Teddy. Their lives will never be the same again.

Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding (E, 71k)

Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with.

The Ordeal of Being Known by louisfake (M, 146k)

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions.

Away Childish Things by lettered (T, 153k)

Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

#asks #Drarry reclist #childhood trauma

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maochira · 6 months

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Going off the last doyle ask you finished, what if the reader tracks him down after he left the school and tries to talk to him looking for answers?

More dad!Doyle for my father complex 🫶 I wrote a oneshot this time!

Masterlist - first part of this

Tags: gn!Doyle's child!reader, reader is a teenager, Doyle is aged up for logic purposes so him having a teenage kid makes sense, not much dialogue because I'm still learning how to write Doyle as a character

The moment Doyle leaves your classroom, you feel the urge top follow him. This might be the only chance you ever get to talk to him. But unfortunately, the shock from moments before remains in you, preventing you from moving only a little bit. It's as if you're frozen in your seat.

As soon as you regain your ability to move, you jump out of your seat and run out of the classroom. Your classmates are yelling at you, asking where you're going, but you ignore them. The only thing that's on your mind is how badly you want to talk to your father.

You're unsure in which direction he left, so you choose the one that seems the least obvious. And that ended up being the right decision, as you soon find Doyle in an alleyway.

"Stop!" You yell as soon as you see Doyle, but he keeps running without even looking back at you.

Not once in your life did you run as fast and as much as right now, which results in your body being close to breaking down. Only the adrenaline kept you going this far. But you slowly feel your body getting weaker with each step until you end up passing out.

The sound of you falling to the ground is what finally makes Doyle stop running. He knows he can't just leave you alone like this.

After a bit, you regain consciousness. Your sight is a bit blurry, but you're pretty sure you're in the corner of the alleyway where you passed out.

"Are you okay?" Doyle asks, his tone is gentle in a way you wouldn't have expected. But then you figure, you don't even know what you expected him to be like in the first place.

You answer in a shaky voice, "I think so...", while carefully sitting up and leaning your back against the wall. Your sight is getting less blurry, so you get to take a closer look at Doyle. He's kneeling down beside you, but your sight is still too blurry to figure out his facial expression.

Countless things you want to say start running through your head. So many questions you want to ask and things you want to tell him. But before you get to open your mouth, Doyle already stands up again.

"Alright, then I'll leave aga-"

"No!" You quickly interrupt him, your voice being louder than intended. "Please... At least talk to me."

Doyle is hesitant. He doesn't even know why he wants to leave, so he ends up kneeling back down. "...Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

Multiple questions burst out of you at the same time, some not even making sense because it's just you trying to say everything that's on your mind.

But one thing you didn't need to ask was if he really is your father. Both of you just know without it needing to be said out loud.

After realizing how you asked way too many questions at once and how some didn't make sense, you try to calm down and ask your questions slower, hoping you'll receive answers to at least one of them.

Hours later, you and your father still sit in the same spot, talking about all sorts of things. After Doyle had answered your questions, he ended up asking some as well. That turned into you telling him as much about your life as you could.

There's a weird connection between you, but neither of you is sure if this connection can be described as "love." But there definitely is at least some sort of care for each other.

Before you left, you told Doyle your address. But now as you're walking home, you're wondering if that was the right decision. He might become dangerous and hurt you or your mother. Or not. After all, he didn't do anything to you in all these hours you spent together.

He's your father. He wouldn't do anything to harm you. Right?

#💟 maochira writes #baki x reader #hector doyle #hector doyle x reader #baki the grappler #grappler baki

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insane-fangirl · 1 year

Note

Ok so I’m a daughter of Athena and I don’t think there’s enough platonic Annabeth content. So, if you’re okay with it, could do you something with a child of Athena x Annabeth and it’s platonic? Maybe something with her going off to college too. Have a wonderful day/night!

Yikes this took a while... and it's kinda short... hope you enjoy anyway!

I totally agree with you tho! Not much out there for platonic PJO anything :(

Annabeth x sister!reader

I imagined reader like 15, but any age works that's not in college

Summary- Y/n doesn't want Annabeth to leave for New Rome.

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Oh gods did it hurt. More than you expected to be honest.

Annabeth was by far the person you had been closest with and had been there for you every time you could recall. You of course loved all your siblings, but you and Annabeth were inseparable. Blame it on the fact that Annabeth had been the one to find you in the mortal world, but regardless you two had a special bond.

It was just a few hours short of the time Annabeth had intended to leave, and you hadn't seen her all morning. Your only solace last night was that Annabeth would spend most of the morning with you, spitting memories from the last 5 years, or sitting in the comforting embrace of silence as Annabeth packed the last of her things.

Instead you woke to an empty cabin, every trace of Annabeth's belongings wiped from her bunk and desk. Even the spot at the breakfast bench where she normally sat was barren and cold.

Trudging across the lawn from a painful breakfast you heard a shout from afar. Turning you head, you could see Annabeth frantically waving you down from the strawberry fields. Percy, Jason, and Piper had been only a couple feet away, and you presumed they had been out doing something, keeping Annabeth from breakfast.

Jogging over, Annabeth began to meet you halfway, and when you were close enough, she pulled you inter her arms.

It was one of the good hugs, squeezing tight and a slight rock as you started to tear up.

"Why do you have to go now?" You asked though a teary haze.

"I'm not leaving forever," She replied, "We can visit, and before you know it you're going to be attending New Rome University too, majoring in biology, or law if you're still into that."

Annabeth smoothed you hair and wiped your tears with the edge of her sweatshirt sleeve.

"When I come back in the fall, you and I can go pick out pumpkins, crash at Percy's place, and watch Halloween movies while we carve them. And don't even get me started on our plans for Christmas break."

You smiled lightly, knowing well that Annabeth probably already had an itinerary booked by the minute.

"Distance makes the heart grow fonder, eh?"

You nodded reluctantly and let yourself melt into one last embrace.

"You know you can always IM me, anytime, anywhere, okay? I love you y/n/n." Annabeth whispered in your ear.

"I love you too Bethy Boo Bear."

You heard her growl lightly as you shrieked and rushed for cover near the volleyball courts.

Everything was changing, but the love you shared never would.

#percy jackson #pjo #annabeth chase #annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase x sister!reader #heros of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians

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hangmansgbaby · 1 year

Text

Meet the Family | 3

Summary: The day comes for y/n to bury her brother, Jake. With her mother showing up sporadically because of the funeral, y/n faces to reality of everything around her and slowly opens her eyes to what's really going on.

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x reader, Jake Seresin x TwinSister!Reader

Warnings: funeral, mentions of panic attacks,, brief psycho mom, honestly this will probably be rewritten at least 3 times after publication

Note: this takes place in a universe where Goose got nothing more than a serious concussion from the accident.

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

"Where are my grandbabies?"

"What are you doing here, Adeline? How'd you figure out where we live?" Bradley questions, blocking the doorway.

"The officer who picked me up from the airport brought me here. I'm staying with my grandchildren for the rest if the week."

"No, you're not. They don't even know who you are." Bradley tells her.

"And who's fault is that? Probably my good for nothing daughter's. Probably why my son is-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. You can wait out here, I'll call you a cab to take you to the furthest hotel from this house." Bradley tells her through clenched teeth.

"I want to see my daughter." Adeline demands.

"She doesn't want to see you." Bradley shuts the door immediately calling a cab.

"Who was that?" Y/n asks.

"Wrong house." Bradley answers, not turning towards her. "They were intended to go a few doors over."

"Okay." Y/n sighs, grabbing her jacket from by the door.

"Where you off to?" Bradley questions.

"Just gonna go grab a few things for uh... dinner tonight." She zips up her jacket, leaning over the kitchen counter, where Bradley is. He kisses her, turning to face her.

"I can see your khakis. You're going to base."

"No I'm not."

"Baby, you're working yourself to the brink, you need to take a break, actually grieve." Bradley moves around the counter, holding y/n's arm so she can't walk away.

"I'm fine, Bradley." Y/n pulls away from him, opening the door.

"Y/n..."

"Mom?" Bradley glances around her to see Adeline still by their door.

"Oh baby!" Adeline tries to throw herself at y/n but y/n has her hands out to stop her.

"What are you doing here? How did you even find me?"

"I'm here for Jacob's funeral. And to see you, and my grandbabies." Y/n just laughs at her comment. "I don't see what's so funny."

"You seriously think that after how you treated me my whole life that I'd let you anywhere near my children?" Y/n questions.

"Because I'm your mother." Adeline answers.

Y/n goes to retaliate but is interrupted by Nick running into the room from the hallway. "Mommy! Daddy!"

Y/n snaps around. She recognizes his tone. His worried tone.

"What is it buddy?" Bradley asks.

"It's Jace!" Nick says loudly. Y/n takes off sprinting to the playroom, Bradley pulling Nick out of her path before following behind, Nick hot on his heels.

Y/n drops to the ground at Jace who laid on his back, crying while taking shallow breaths. "Jace! Come on baby!" She pulls the boy up to sit. You gotta take deep breaths.

"What happened Nick?" Bradley asks his oldest as Carrie runs over to him, crying.

"We were playing and he fell backwards and started making that noise. Mommy said that noise not good when Alex did it." Nick explains. Alex was Nick's friend, another navy kid that y/n occasionally babysat over the last six months.

Y/n loudly lets out a sigh of relief when Jace finally calms down.

"You did a good job getting us buddy." Bradley looks at his son proudly, glad he actually listens to them unlike Bradley at that age.

"You okay, sweetie?" Y/n asks after Jace takes a couple deep breaths. The boy just nods, wrapping his arms around his mothers neck, holding on tight. "It's okay love." She sighs, running a hand over his back as she stands, lifting him into her arms.

"Oh look at you cuties." Y/n turns quickly holding Jace protectively. Bradley pulls Carrie and Nick close, lifting them as he stands, walking away from Adeline.

"Get out." Bradley warns.

"Oh come on! I traveled all this way, let them give grammie some love."

"Get out of my house before I call the authorities. I don't think you want to get arrested for trespassing right before the funeral." Y/n stands in front of Bradley, holding tightly to Jace.

"Fine, but they're going to have to get to know me soon enough. Especially if you want the ranch to stay in the family." Adeline turns, leaving Y/n and Bradley alone with the kids.

"Is he okay?" Bradley questions.

"Just got the wind knocked out of him." Y/n sighs. "How did she even find us? I didn't even tell her I had kids." Y/n questions, softly rocking Jace who was still worked up.

"You dont think Jake would've said anything do you?"

"No. No, it was his idea to not tell her in the first place." Y/n sighs. "We shouldn't bring them tomorrow." Y/n decides.

"We got no one to watch them, baby. Trust me, if there was someone who could watch them, I'd agree." Bradley sets Nick and Carrie down, they immediately return to playing. He walks over to y/n and guides her out of the playroom, half asleep Jace still rested in her arms.

"I dont want her anywhere near them, Bradley. She'll just do exactly what she did to me." Y/n eyes start welling with tears at the thought of what her mother was capable of.

"She won't go anywhere near them." He sits beside her on the couch. "We have the advantage here, we know every single person who will be there and they know that your mother is not allowed near these kids. Everything is going to be okay."

Y/n simply nods, watching her youngest son sleep in her arms. She sighs, knowing that what Bradley said was true. Their friends and family were very protective of their kids so she knew no one would ever get their hands on them.

"You ready?" Bradley stand in the doorway of their bedroom. His dress blues freshly pressed and neat.

Y/n stands on the opposite side of the room, her own dress blues on. She runs her hands over the fabric, feeling constrained by the semi fitted uniform. "Yea, kids ready?"

"Downstairs waiting for you with Mom and Dad." Bradley makes his way over to her, his hands rest on her arms to stop their movements. "You sure you're okay?"

"As okay as someone who's about to bury their brother." She musters a small smile before turning around. "Lets get this over with, please." Bradley nods, taking her hand and leading her through the house. Downstairs, Goose and Carole wait with Jace and Carrie in their arms, Nick close by until he spots his parents.

"Mommy, look! Daddy helped me do my tie!" Nick runs over excited as they come down the stairs.

"It looks so good baby!" She smiles picking up the boy. "Lets get you and your brother and sister in the car okay?"

Its a 45 minute drive to the cemetery and a 5 minute walk to the grave site. Bradley makes sure y/n and the kids are settled before walking back to the main road to meet Coyote, Bob, Payback, Fanboy, and Maverick, the six who would carry Jake's coffin to its final resting place.

Nick, Jace, and Carrie sat next to each other in a few of the chairs at out, Carole sat next to the twins, keeping an eye on them as y/n is greeted by those who came to show their respects.

"Hey y/n/n." Y/n turns to see Lottie, Cass, and Tyler walking up to her.

"Hey guys." She softly smiles giving Lottie and Cass a hug, shaking hands with Tyler. "How are you holding up?" She asks Lottie.

"I'm okay." She smiles softly. "I'm more worried about you. Bradley said you've been avoiding it."

"I'm okay, Lottie. Just ready for it to be over." Y/n sighs.

"Its never gonna truly be over, y/n. You're always gonna miss him." Y/n softly smiles at Cass.

"Oh my baby." Y/n rolls her eyes at the hysterics she hears, turning around to spot her overly hysterical mother making her way up to the gravesite.

"Here we go." She mutters, walking up to the woman.

"Oh my—"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to go sit over here." Phoenix steps in, keeping y/n from having to deal with her mother.

"I'm family." Adeline retaliates. "We're burying MY son!" They hysterics continue.

"I'm sorry ma'am but only those okayed by the next of kin can sit with the family and unfortunately you are not."

"This was that bitches doing wasn't it? That ungrateful little minx is trying to cut me out of their lives, keep me away from my grand babies."

"Ma'am that is a commanding officer you are insulting." Goose steps forward. "If you cannot show the necessary respect, I will have to have you escorted away from here."

"Wow she's really got everyone playing along with her little game." Adeline scoffs. "That uniform is probably fake."

"Thats it." Y/n scoffs, joining Phoenix and Goose before Adeline. "Ms. Seresin, I am Lieutenant Commander Seresin-Bradshaw. This is Lieutenant Commander Trace and Vice Admiral Bradshaw, my father-in-law. You are no longer welcome here."

"Lieutenants, please escort Ms. Seresin to the main road and make sure she gets in a cab. Escort her to the airport and ensure she returns to Texas, today." Goose directs the two boys who nod and immediately guide her away as she screams.

"No! Thats my son!"

"Not anymore." Y/n says, turning back towards the gravesite, moving to sit next to her kids.

Its not even 5 minutes later that she can see her husband and friends slowly walking up, Jake's casket in the middle of all of them. She tries to hold back her tears, to stay strong for her kids but the reality of the moment sets in. Her brother was in the box with an American flag draped over it. Her husband was about to hand that flag, folded, to her. Coyote was about to hammer Jake's wings into the casket. She was about to permanently say goodbye.

She stared blankly at the box as they lifted the flag, Fanboy and Payback received the honor of folding it. Fanboy takes the perfectly folded flag and hands it to Bradley with a salute. Bradley turns and makes his way to y/n. She stands when he enters her line of sight. He gently places the flag in her hands, a small comforting smile on his face as he nods to his wife. He steps over the Nick and kneels before his eldest. He pulls a copy of Jake's dog tags, handing them over. Nick says thank you, taking the chain from his father, but he doesn't hold on to them. Nick stands on his chair and turns around to where Lottie stands.

"Here Aunt Lottie." He holds out the chain hanging from his small hands. "Uncle Jake want you to have them." Everyone's hearts melt at his comment.

Lottie's eyes well with tears as she takes the chain from her nephew. She pulls the little boy up to her arms hugging him tightly.

Bradley stands, walking over to the other side of y/n, his hand resting on her shoulder as she sits. Maverick says a few words before Coyote steps up, pounding the wings in.

Everyone gathers at the Hard Deck afterwards. Carole and Goose volunteer to take the kids, insisting that y/n needs the weekend to reset from everything. Before anyone leaves, they all stop and offer their condolences to y/n and Bradley. They knew anyone who had ever worked with Jake may want to attend but no one expected this much people to show up.

Y/n must have said thank you a hundred times before she started feeling overwhelmed. More people walking up right after the other. Keeping a straight face, she tries to push the feeling down as more of Jake's previous coworkers come up to her. She offers a small smile to anyone who came up to her but soon it because difficult to muster the smile, which slowly turned to difficulty breathing. Bradley must have sensed her distress (or probably saw the growing shake in her hands) because it wasn't long that he was leading her away from the crowd of people and into Penny's quiet office.

"Baby? You okay?" Everything broke in that instant. One second its shallow breaths, the next its full blown hyperventilation. "Okay, deep breaths babe, come on." Bradley runs a gentle hand up and down her back as she sobs, sitting on the small couch.

"Hey is everything alrigh—" Pete pauses in the doorway of the office as soon as he sees the state of y/n. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I think she got overwhelmed with everybody out there and the minute I got her back here she just broke down." Bradley explains.

"Alright, Bradley go get her some water from the bar. Y/n, look at me. You need to slow your breathing. You gotta ground yourself." Pete instructs, pulling a chair up to sit next to her. "Can you tell me 5 things you can see?"

She mumbles her answer but Pete can see her eyes move around.

"Okay, how about 4 things you can touch?"

She continues mumbling but is still clearer than before, her breathing slows.

"3 things you can hear." Bradley comes back into the room, glass of water in hand.

"You, the—the music, everyone o-o-out there." She stutters.

"2 things you smell."

"Bradley's cologne. Alcohol." She answers clearly, breathing completely back to normal.

"1 thing you taste." Mav finishes.

"My tears." She laughs, licking her lips.

"Here you go." Bradley hands her the water and she immediately drinks it, downing half the glass in seconds.

"Thanks." She mutters, pulling the glass from her lips.

"What happened out there kid? That was a pretty bad panic attack." Maverick questions.

"I just... all those people coming up. Saying the same thing, over and over. I'm so sick of everyone feeling bad for me. I get it, I lost a brother. But I'm not the only one here that lost someone important in their life! Lottie lost the love of her life! Bradley, Phoenix, Bob, Coyote, all of them. They lost a wingman. Hell! Yes, my mother lost her favorite child. Yet everyone wants to tell my that they're sorry, why? Cause I'm the one who got handed that stupid flag?" She says exasperated. "I just want it all to stop."

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't know you felt like that." Bradley's gaze never leaves the ground, only moving when y/n's hand rests on his cheek, guiding him to look her in the eyes.

"Do not start blaming yourself for this. I did it to myself. You couldn't have possibly know with how often I locked myself away."

"I knew you were hurting but I had no idea-"

"I didn't want you to know darling. You had enough going on with your nightmares and own panics." Y/n sighs. "I'll be fine but can we just go home please?"

"Of course." Bradley helps her up from the couch, nodding to Maverick as they go to leave.

"Be careful getting home, you two. Get some rest." Mav pats Bradley's shoulder, holding the door open for them to leave.

That night y/n and Bradley held each other a little tighter. When Bradley woke up suddenly from a nightmare he didn't push y/n off to deal with it on his own. When y/n cried over the loss of her brother again, it wasn't alone in the shower or locked away in her office but in the comfort of their bed, Bradley's arms around her as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

It got easier for them, years later. Y/n had gotten into the habit of calling out to her brother while in the air. "Talk to me Jake" was a common phrase muttered silently to herself as she'd soar through the air. She always glance down at the photo pinned to the empty space of her jet. It was one of her favorites. Jake and y/n were holding the twins. Everyone has joked about how similar the twins looked like their mother and uncle so a mandatory photo of Jace and Carrie in Jake and y/n's stetsons was a must. The hats clearly to big for the kids but y/n could remember their giggles as Jake held Jace and y/n had Carrie tucked into her side.

Each of the kids got something of their uncle's.

Nicholas Bradley had chosen Jake's helmet, which sat on his bedroom shelf until he left for the Academy 16 years later. Only then was it moved into the living room, right next to the folded flag on the bookshelf. 6 years later when Nick finally got his helmet with his callsign written across the front, there was a small half-finished hangman from the dumb game he played in school placed on the left side of the helmet, in honor of his uncle.

Jacob Dean of course got his namesake's Stetson, which would remain on the wall until he was at least 16, when he would start wearing it everywhere. Jace got had gotten into rodeos that year and considered his uncle's hat good luck anytime he went to compete. When Jace turned 18, he decided to go to the University of Texas, Austin, majoring in business. Upon his graduation, he moved onto the Seresin family ranch and built it into something bigger than it ever was. Adeline, despite her distaste for her daughter, had left the ranch to y/n on her deathbed the tear Jace left for college. Y/n hired a few ranch hands to look after it until her son was ready to take over, only then he would decide who stayed on.

Carole Marie chose something simple of his, the brown leather bomber jacket that he always wore. Once she had finally gown into it, it fitting just slightly big, she wore it everywhere. She even took it to college with her. But her favorite use for it was when she did a lesson for memorial day at the end of every year after she started teaching. She would bring that jacket, her grandfather's dog tags, and her great uncle's helmet to class and tell her students about her family. She'd even manage to convince her older brother to come in if he was ever in town to help her. And on Veteran's day she'd always use those big puppy dog eyes to convince her father to pay her class a visit. A trick she most definitely learned from her mother.

As years went on and their kids grew up, y/n and Bradley slowly made it to a point in their lives where they were no longer affected by their grief and trauma. They happily watched their children graduate, go off to college, graduate again, begin their careers, and get married. They even got to see the birth of their own grandchildren, even witnessing a few great grandchildren. Although they had lost so many due to the nature of their job, they still managed to find the joys in life, all of which had to do with their 3 beautiful children.

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #rooster #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin x reader #glen powell #gbaby meet the family #hangmansgbaby

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