#Part 18

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 18

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4,000 Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, brief mentions of the events of Part 13, some ADA Sam, Detective John, and a cliffhanger…

Part 18: “V for Vendetta”

After that first rocky month, Dean started to improve physically, and so did you emotionally, as he tried his best to let you help him when he needed it. 

In turn, you did your best to gauge his moods; when he truly did need help, and when it was best for you to just be his girlfriend, not his caretaker.

January rolled onwards, and the resulting winter cold snap brought a kind of calm before a storm. Nick Savage still hadn’t been found, but that didn’t mean your worries were over.

Dean knew that this would hang over all of your heads until both Nick and his father were caught and exposed.

Today Dean walked with Sam on his day off, doing a few laps around the neighborhood as part of Dean’s rehab. They knew a police car was stationed nearby, watching them for their safety. It was a bit unnerving, but necessary.

They were walking back into the building when Sam stopped to check the mail. The box for their unit was along the wall in the corridor with several other locked boxes. Sam unlocked theirs and pulled out a rolled-up newspaper, some coupons, and a stray folded note addressed to Dean. Sam’s brows furrowed.

“What’s that, a love note?” Dean asked dryly. He took it from Sam and unfolded the scrap of paper.

20579. Your badge will join your dad’s on the wall.

Both the Fire Department headquarters and the 84th Precinct had a wall to commemorate firefighters and officers who had given their lives in the line of duty. Each of their badges had their own display plaque hung on the respective walls.

In short, the note was a threat.

Sam’s worried frown deepened as he watched Dean’s good mood evaporate. He crumpled up the note and pocket it, before he met his younger brother’s eyes.

“Keep this between us,” he warned. As in, don’t tell you.

Sam shook his head. “Dad needs to know, at least. And you two need to be careful.” 

“That goes for you and Eileen too,” Dean replied. He reached for Sam’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t matter that you’re an ADA. Azazel goes after cops and their families. He’s gonna be gunning for an opportunity to get to one of us.”

Sam’s lips pressed together, but he acknowledged that with a nod.

They went back upstairs together, where you were dressed casually and gathering up your purse.

“Heading out somewhere?” Dean asked. Sam shot him a glance, which Dean silently answered with a short nod. He looked back at you when you offered him a smile.

“Yep, we need a few things. Milk, eggs, more Twizzlers, apparently,” you quipped, lightly smacking his stomach. Dean quirked a smile.

“Give me a sec. I’ll go with you,” he said.

You made an uncertain sound. “Didn’t you just get back from a walk? You sure you don’t just want to shower up and relax?”

“I’m good,” said Dean. He knew you didn’t like the idea of him overexerting himself, but he didn’t feel comfortable letting you go out alone. He could tell by the look Sam once again threw his way from the kitchen that he didn’t think it was a good idea either.

Dean slid a hand up your arm. “How about this. I’ll stay in the car. I just want some more fresh air.”

You tilted your head at him, but you conceded. He followed you to the door and held it open for you.

“Can I drive?” Dean hedged.

You chuckled. “Don’t push it, Lieutenant.”

On the way back from the grocery store, you discreetly eyed Dean’s profile. His knee was bouncing as he stared out the window.

Sometimes he checked the rearview mirror of your Camaro. Sometimes he fiddled with the radio or checked his phone.

It was all nervous behavior you took a catalogue of. By the time you pulled back into the parking lot of Dean’s apartment building, he finally seemed to relax a fraction. You parked the car and turned to him. 

“Okay, what’s the matter?” you asked.

Dean gave you a curious look, but there was an unmistakable tension in his demeanor.

“What do you mean?”

You tried your question a different way. “What’s got you all on edge?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Dean,” you prodded. “Does it have something to do with why you insisted on coming with me, even though I can see that you’re tired?”

His face tightened, but he reached over for your hand. Your fingers curled around his. Now you were getting worried.

“We’ve got the police watching us here, but anything could happen out there,” Dean said. “Until this blows over, I don’t think you should go out by yourself.”

Until this blows over. You wanted to ask when that would be, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to give you an answer.

“Zachariah called me this morning,” you admitted. “He’s standing in for Nick as CEO. He said I have a job waiting for me when I get off medical leave next week. Everyone’s been working from home since the fire, but we’d be going to a new building the company owns downtown.”

Dean tightened up, just like you knew he would. His eyes closed as his head tilted back against the headrest. He let out a long breath through his nose. You stayed quiet, both waiting for what he might say and preparing for him to get upset.

He surprised you by calmly looking over at you again.

“It’s not a good idea. If Nick’s still alive, it means his dad probably knows you know who he is,” he said. “And not for nothin’. Even with Nick out of there, that place’s probably been built on blood money.”

Both were fair points.

“I know. I’m going to find something else, as soon as you’re better,” you said. Dean shook his head and held your hand tighter.

“Don’t let me be an excuse,” he said. His gaze was firm and direct meeting yours. “I need you to start taking care of yourself too, all right? Please.” 

Faced with his earnestness, you couldn’t help but soften. After everything he’d done to save you, to protect you, was it fair of you to keep making him worry?

In the past, you’d felt justified. You couldn’t quit. You needed the money. You could handle it, whatever came next. You would deal with it because you had to.

But maybe this time, you didn’t have to. It wasn’t worth all this.

With that resolve, you let out a breath.

“I’m going to call Zachariah,” you said, “and tell him that I’m working from home, or I quit.”

Dean stared back at you with a measure of surprise.

“I’m not going back,” you said, squeezing his hand. “If he has a problem with that, I’ll use whatever I have left in my savings. Hopefully that’ll be enough until I find a new job.”

After a moment, Dean expelled a breath of relief. He beckoned you over, and carefully as you could over the upholstery, you leaned over and caressed his cheek before you went in for a kiss. He welcomed you, with his hands slipping up your sides and around your back, pressing you into him with a heady warmth.

He paused against your lips after a while. His forehead rested against yours.

“You don’t need to drain your savings. I can help you,” Dean started to say, but you pulled back and held your fingers to his lips.

“You’ve helped me enough. You’re already letting me live with you rent free,” you pointed out. “Let me figure out the rest.”

After a moment, Dean wordlessly agreed. He wanted to argue that you wouldn’t have had to move in with him if not for Azazel putting you in his sights, but at the same time, Dean understood that you’d been providing for yourself for a long time. He respected you for it.

So he just guided you back to him for another slow kiss.

John Winchester owned a condo approximately 20 minutes from his sons’ apartment. It was the home they’d grown up in after the house fire, over thirty years ago.

John had learned a lot since then. In fact, some might say that he’d become a paranoid bastard.

Aside from a professional alarm system, he’d installed hidden cameras inside and out of his home, and at every window. It meant that even when he was asleep, his eyes were never truly closed.

When the intruder took his first steps into John’s bedroom, the man himself was waiting with a gun cocked and loaded. The safety clicking back made a small sound, but in the silence, it might as well have been a gunshot.

The masked man swiftly turned and ducked, throwing a punch. The scuffle that followed was quick and covered by darkness.

The cameras on “Night Mode” picked up every moment.

And that was how John later showed video evidence of Alastair Rolston breaking into his condo, and subsequently getting his ass handed to him.

Both men had their fair share of bruises, but at the end of the day, Alastair was the one cuffed to a chair in the bowels of the 84th Precinct. He sat beside his court-appointed lawyer.

Meanwhile, Cas watched the scene from behind the one-way glass window of the interrogation room. Rufus Turner, their Lieutenant, was beside him, along with ADA Sam Winchester. He watched the man his father questioned very carefully. 

“Well, I think you know what this means, Mr. Rolston,” John drawled.

Alastair’s stance in the chair was relaxed, almost unfazed. He gave the detective a wry smile.

“What’s that, John?” he asked.

“I’ve got you dead to rights on attempted murder of a cop,” said John. “It ain’t a good look, my friend.”

“Don’t answer that,” said the lawyer. Alastair glanced at the man, unimpressed, to say the least.

“No shit,” he replied.

“I’d say you’ve got two options,” John pressed forward. He leaned on the table between him and Alastair.

“Did Azazel…excuse me, Daniel Savage, put you up to this? You can answer that question, or I could just skip to the part where you sit in a cell for 20 to life.”

Alastair’s face gave away nothing but calculation and amusement. John nodded, with a grim smile.

“I’ll bet you set the fire at Savage & Co. Trying to get Nick to look like a victim in all this—the consequence of doing business with the likes of Azazel,” he said. “Better yet, I think you’re his favorite hitman. Clean, precise, no tracks left behind, no traces of evidence. Perfect kills. I’ll bet you consider yourself a goddamn artist.”

Alastair lifted his gaze, and John saw the familiar depths of a killer.

“I don’t like setting fires,” said Alastair.

John was nonplussed. “I’m sure you don’t.”

The other man rolled his shoulders.

“It’s all very…messy, you see. Unpredictable.” A smile graced his lips. “But I know someone who does.”

“He’ll give you his employer,” the lawyer said. “The person who ordered the hit.”

“Which hit?” John arched a brow. “I can’t be the only special one. What about Paul Richardson, Jerry Stillwell, Amanda Waller?”

The lawyer shared a look with his client. Alastair rolled his eyes and leaned over to whisper in his ear. After a moment, the lawyer nodded and met John’s gaze.

“He’ll tell you what you want to know, but only for a blanket deal of immunity.”

John could’ve guessed. Alastair smiled once more and leaned back in his seat.

The detective held up a finger and exited the interrogation room. He met Sam’s gaze, and the latter already knew what his father was thinking.

"Give me a minute," Sam said. He went into the room and tried to negotiate with Alastair and his lawyer, but the man wouldn't accept a plea of 20 to 25 years, even to serve all the murders they could charge him with concurrently. Nor would he accept 15 to 20, or even Sam's best deal: 10 to 12.

Sam exited the room and hid his discouragement. He met his father's waiting gaze.

“We can’t give him immunity,” Sam said. “He’s likely the one who committed Azazel’s hits. Not just for the past six months, but for God knows how long, and how many bodies.”

“At this point, it’s the only way we’re getting a chance at Daniel Savage,” John said. “Not just finding him, but pinning him as the mastermind behind the whole operation. Drug trafficking, arson, murders…the whole thing, Sam.”

Sam didn’t like it. No one did, for that matter, but even Rufus heaved a sigh.

“You can’t move forward without a trigger finger willing to testify,” he said.

“Yeah, because hitmen make notoriously credible witnesses,” Sam retorted.

“Do think he set the fires as well?” Cas asked John. “He seemed to imply that he committed the murders, but not the arson.”

John hummed in contemplation.

“We’ll find out. But first, I want a confirmed name from the horse’s mouth,” he said, shifting his attention to Sam. “Can you get me that, son?” 

Sam’s lips pursed.

Within an hour, the paperwork was drawn and the plea deal was arranged. Father and son sat side by side on one side of the interrogation room, while Alastair and his lawyer sat on the other. Alastair finished signing the final document as the cuffs on his wrists jangled.

“All right,” said John. “Tell me what I want to know.”

Alastair smiled and spread his hands as wide as he was able.

“I’m an open book, Johnny. Ask away.”

John leaned forward.

“Let’s start with this,” he said. “Who ordered you to kill me?”

Nick Savage was unearthed from a luxury apartment in the south of France. He was extradited back the United States and hauled into a courtroom in Lawrence, Kansas for arraignment.

Sam Winchester was the prosecutor on the case. As luck would have it, one of his favorite judges was also assigned for this docket.

“What do we have here?” asked Judge Devereaux. He was a portly man, short and graying, with square black glasses that framed his perpetually surly face. The man now adjusted his glasses so he could read the slip of paper the clerk had just handed to him after reading off the docket.

The charges included four counts of murder in the first degree: the murders-for-hire, enacted by Alastair Rolston.

Followed by attempted murder in the first degree, ten counts of murder in the second degree (those who had lost their lives in the most recent building fire), conspiracy to commit murder, arson, and if that weren’t enough, a charge each of attempted sexual assault and sexual harassment.

When the last two charges were read out loud in the courtroom, Nick looked visibly angry.

Sam glanced over at the defendant with thinly veiled satisfaction. Some days, it was difficult for him to come to work.

Today was not that day.

“All right, that is a laundry list of potential misdeeds,” Judge Deveraux remarked. He looked up at Nick Savage. “How does the defendant plead?”

At the prodding of his lawyer, Amelia Richardson, Nick spoke up.

“Not guilty,” he said. Though he rolled his eyes, as if this was a waste of his time.

“What’s the deal here, Mr. Winchester?” Judge Devereaux asked.

“The primary charge is a murder-for-hire, your Honor,” Sam replied. “Mr. Savage hired a hitman to murder at least five people, and succeeded with four. He also masterminded several arsons. This includes a fire at his own company building, which claimed the lives of ten people and injured several others. This is all part of a larger connection to organized crime, which the People intend to prove in our case. Due to the nature of the charges, and the defendant clearly being a flight risk, we seek his remand to custody without bail.”

The judge raised his brows. He turned to the defendant’s lawyer.

“What about it, Miss Richardson?”

Amelia shot Sam a glance, but she replied to the judge.

“What we have here is a conflict of interest, your Honor,” she said. “Detective John Winchester has a vendetta against my client. Therefore, Mr. Winchester should recuse himself. It’s a family affair, Judge, and they have no evidence for any of these charges, except for the testimony of a confessed murderer.”

“It’s called prosecutorial discretion,” Sam cut in. “Our evidence goes beyond Mr. Rolston’s testimony and will more than support our case. I’ve also tried my father’s cases before, your Honor. This defendant is no different.”

The judge peered closer at the docket with incredulous eyes.

“Except for the fact that one of the attempted murders was on your father. John Winchester?” Judge Devereaux actually chuckled. “Oh, Mr. Savage. Many have tried and failed on that regard.”

“Judge,” Amelia tried, but Devereaux waved her off. Sam took in that small victory without giving anything away outwardly. The fact that John was on the docket as a “victim” was easily Sam’s biggest challenge in this arraignment, but he just couldn’t hand this off to another prosecutor.

“And what’re these last charges about?” the judge asked.

“Mr. Savage attempted to sexually assault one of his employees at a company Christmas party in the defendant’s home, your Honor,” Sam replied. His gaze once again cut over to Nick, who glared back at him with a sneer.

“That’s a goddamn lie!” Nick shouted.

Amelia grabbed his arm and tried to shut him up, but Nick jerked out of her grasp.

“Put a gag on your client or I will, Miss Richardson,” Devereaux warned with a deepening frown.

“Hey,” Amelia hissed a whisper, grabbing the sleeve of Nick’s suit jacket this time. “Get it together and shut your mouth. Remember where you are.”

He ignored her to try and speak to the judge himself. 

“That bitch tased me. Did she tell you that?” Nick levied Sam a look, before he turned back to Devereaux. “Yeah, she assaulted me, Judge. So that charge is fucking bogus.”

“I’ve heard quite enough!” Devereaux snapped. He raised his gavel and slammed it down loud enough for Nick to flinch. “The defendant is remanded to custody, without bail.”

It was more satisfying than John would admit.

While the development wasn’t exactly what he had expected, having Daniel Savage’s son dragged out of his new prison home to sit in another musty holding cell was the highlight of the new year.

This was the poor excuse for a man who’d given him such a headache these past few months. This was the little shit that nearly got his son killed, and who’d been terrorizing you for months, if not years.

But he would be a means to an end.

“I’ll tell ya what, Nick. You don’t look like a man that could organize a handful of murders and arsons, but here we are,” John said.

He scratched the back of his head and sat on the corner of the desk. Sam was seated across from Nick, and Cas was hanging back within the cell, watching the exchange (and watching Nick’s reactions for any tells).

On the other side sat Nick himself, dressed down in his gray prison garb. It was a far cry from the $5,000 suit he wore in the arraignment. Next to him was his lawyer, Amelia Richardson.

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” she asked. She shot Sam a glance.

They had dated in law school for a few months. It had ended abruptly when her husband returned from Afghanistan. It had been a shock to both of them, since the man had been presumed dead.

Clearly, Sam had moved on since then. He was happier with Eileen than he ever was, but he could tell that Amelia had never quite recovered from the “what could’ve been” of their relationship.

Still, Sam had set all that aside the moment he stepped into this room. He watched his father work.

“Why did you set fire to your own building?” John asked.

He’d expected Nick to be more explosive with his denials, but the man was quietly simmering, like he just wanted the questioning to be over. It reminded John of when his sons were teenagers. Maybe he hadn’t been the perfect father, but intuition was telling him something…

“You didn’t do it, did you?” John mused. “At least, not that fire.”

It was interesting, however, that Alastair had pinned the Savage & Co. fire on the son—that Nick had started it himself, along with the other arsons. Alastair had just been the muscle, committing the murders and the brandings on the victims.

John wasn’t so sure he believed that. He leaned in a bit and gave Nick a wry smile.

“Did Daddy do that one for ya?” he asked.

At that, Nick held firm. “My father has nothing to do with this.”

Hmm, a bit of familial loyalty? Maybe trying to prove himself, John detected. How far is he willing to go to protect his dad?

“So you did do it, along with the other arsons,” John said.

“Are you trying to get him to confess without a plea deal?” Amelia snarked.

“I’m trying to figure out how badly this kid wants to stay out of jail for the rest of his life,” John said.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Nick grumbled.

“If you have something for us on Daniel Savage, then we’re willing to listen,” Sam added. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in jail?”

Nick crossed his arms, clearly uncooperative.

Sam narrowed his gaze. “This is your last chance, Nick.”

“You don’t have anything on me except for the word of a murdering felon,” Nick retorted. “I’ll beat this trial in a few months and I’ll be out free…but if you really want to know, I’ll let you in on a little something.”

He leaned in, meeting John’s eyes.

“Dad retaliates,” said Nick. “I think you know that best of all, Detective. This time, I think it’s one son for another. And you’ve got two to pick from.”

“Nick,” Amelia warned, but he ignored her.

He glanced at a carefully stoic Sam before he smirked in John’s face, which had become devoid of all humor and revealed the stoniness underneath.

“If I were a betting guy, I’d put my money on the one that had a fucking building fall on him.”

After leaving the county jail, John drove Sam and Cas back to his sons’ apartment. They couldn’t treat Nick’s warning as an idle threat.

Sam was the prosecutor on the case. He wasn’t willing to step down, so the best they could do for him was give him a police security detail that would have to be with him at all times. However, all three men agreed that you, Dean, and Eileen needed to be put in protective custody during the trial.

“Damn it, Dean,” Sam muttered. His brother wasn’t answering his cell.

“Try him again,” said John.

“Is Eileen still at work?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, but she’s talking to the principal now about a temporary replacement for her classes,” Sam replied. He was worried about her safety, but he was also worried about you and Dean. Neither of you were answering your cell phones.

He later let John and Cas into his apartment, where all looked normal and clean.

“Dean!” Sam called out. He was just about to search the apartment when the man came out of his room, looking freshly showered.

“Hey, what’s up?” said Dean. “The gang’s all here, huh?”

“I’ve been calling you for an hour. Where’ve you been?” Sam asked in annoyance, though it was edged with a hint of more that tipped off Dean.

He sensed the tension in the room between his brother, his father, and his friend. He frowned.

“I had a doctor’s appointment. Why?”

John explained the latest round of questioning with Nick Savage, and his most recent threat. John asked where you were right now, if not in the apartment. Dean’s expression shifted to one of worry as he went to find his cell phone.

“She had a job interview,” he admitted, scrolling through his phone to find your name. “She couldn’t reschedule it, else she would’ve gone with me.”

He’d been uneasy about you going to the interview by yourself, but you hadn’t wanted him to change his appointment, and you had assured him it was only a few minutes away…

Dean held the phone to his ear and waited what felt like an eternity as it rang.

Pick up. Pick up, damn it.

Finally, the line connected.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted…but you didn’t answer.

“You there?” he asked. There was a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced up at John. His father met his gaze with furrowed brows that betrayed concern.

The line was silent for one more painful moment. Dean opened his mouth to call out to you again, but a smooth voice interrupted.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a man replied. “Forgetting something?”

AN: 🫣 Sorry lol.

But the next chapter will bring the final showdown...

Next Time:

Dean’s heart began to pound. His mouth parted, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t escape.

“Who is this?” he said. His voice was a hint unsteady.

“I think you know, son,” the man replied.

Keep Reading: PART 19

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @a-very-supernatural-christmas @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#V for Vendetta #Smoke Eater #Part 18 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #john winchester #sam winchester #Castiel #zepskies writes

[aintinacage]

endless peter parker - part 18

#endless peter parker #peter parker #spiderman #spider man #spider-man #tom holland #irondad #Ironman #iron man #tony stark #robert downey jr #robert downey junior #RDJ #irondad and spiderson #james rhodes #colonel rhodes #don cheadle #civil war #captain America 3 #captain America civil war #part 18 #gifset #marvel #mcu

[drowningparty]

POV: you open up emotionally to the elder god whose taken possession of your body and he starts choking you to death wdyd

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #part 18

[ice-hockey-is-pretty-cool]

Examples that show goalies are the best, part eighteen

1: A huge save deserves a huge celebration. (Mite Goalie)

2: Alex Lyon (34) and Sergei Bobrovsky (72) hugs.

3: Jack Campbell looking really confused about how that puck sliced through his glove.

4: You can mess with Vítek Vaněček, if you don’t mind getting the bitch slap.

5: (thanks to lemondropbois for showing me this lol) Hunter Miska does not appreciate the rink renovations.

6: Not technically ice hockey but this save was CRAZY! Ice 3 is awesome. (Eamon McAdam)

7: Kai Dawson(?) has combined two great sports. Hockey and motor racing!

8: Elvis Merzļikins raising the new generational goalie talent.

9: Jumping during a goalie hug is permitted, but not encouraged. (Jeremy Swayman (1) and Jakub Lauko (94))

10: Everyone loves a good goalie hug. This is a reminder to hug your goalies! (Goalies are: Malcolm Subban (47) and Craig Anderson (41))

{part 17}

>part 18<

{part 19}

#nhl #ice hockey #goalies are the best #goalies man #big marshmallow men #nhl hockey #i love goalies #gifs #ice hockey gifs #hockey goalies #hockey gifs #ice hockey goalies #nhl goalies #goalies are precious #gifset #Mite goalie #Alex Lyon #Sergei Bobrovsky #Jack Campbell #Vítek Vaněček #Hunter Miska #Eamon McAdam #3 ice hockey #Kai Dawson #Elvis Merzļikins #Jeremy Swayman #Jakub Lauko #Malcolm Subban #Craig Anderson #part 18

[locitapurplepink]

Taglist : @photogirl894 , @leosardonyx18 , @commander-tech , @aintinacage , @trapezequeen , @cassie-fanfics , @zaya-mo , @genericficerblog , @laughingphoenixleader , @kanerallels , @ambulance-mom , @fulltimecatwitch and anyone else who wants to vote this one.

#star wars #star wars rebels #wolves and a door #sw rebels #star wars rebels season 1 #gathering forces #star wars rebels season 4 #star wars polls #sw rebels season 1 #sw rebels season 4 #sw rebels round 1 #part 18

[knightprincess]

Forgive Me (Echo x Medic Reader) Part 18

Words: 2.8k Warning: Fluff, Indication of depression, mentions of PTSD, and Nightmares. Also a bit of a time jump. Some Fluffy Wolffe and Mando'a used. Pronouns used: She/Her (also uses Y/N) Mando'a used: Verd'ika (little warrior) and Ad'ika (little one)

It had been months since the war had ended, almost a year. In that time, so much had changed. Worlds that had once been part of the separatist movement had undergone merciless imperial occupations; others had suffered through devastating massacres at the hands of the Empire and its many officials. The senators hadn't gotten off lightly either. Some had been forced to run for various reasons, some from rebelling against the empire, others for their acts during the war. Most, if not all, of them had stood up for what was right, both for their people and morally. 

Time, however, hadn't been kind to Clones. Not only had the new Trooper Kore been brought in to replace them, but their home on Kamino had been decommissioned and destroyed as well. In the time since Order 66, many clones had broken free of the Inhibitor chip control, whether that be from sheer willpower or the chip not being as effective as it once had been. Many clones had fled the empire, and others had disappeared entirely. Those who had previously been imprisoned for treason or other unfounded accusations had been transferred elsewhere, never to be seen again. 

Wolffe and (Y/N) had been on the run for most of the year. Both knew they were being hunter, or at least (Y/N) was. Over time, they had developed a small system that helped them survive. They only stopped off for fuel and supplies when needed, normally on an outer rim planet where the empire had yet to suppress or had little power. They'd do odd jobs for credits, Snap would use her skills as a medic to help those in need, and Wolffe became a mercenary for hire, using the skills from the battlefield to his advantage. 

Regarding communication, the two used old Republic devices, using code words to ensure they were protected should someone undesirable stumble across the com channel they used. When landing on new planets for supplies, Wolffe always ensured the coast was clear before giving (Y/N) the signal to leave the ship. If they were hailed, on the other hand, Wolffe would be the one to answer, with Snap remaining quiet until it was determined if the caller was friendly or Empire-bound. 

The pair had long since replaced the small two-person attack shuttle, suspecting they could be tracked via it. Instead, they had gotten a much larger and more comfortable ship, a VXC-100 light freighter. The ship had enough space for the pair to move around and comfortably have their own personal area. It worked as both a means of transport and a home until the time came when they found a planet to stow away on safely or the empire stopped pursuing Snap. 

"Your eye playing up again?" softly asked (Y/N), taking up her normal spot in the cockpit. Wolffe grunted in response while continuing to push the ball of his hand into the mechanical eye in an effort to either stop the searing pain or silence the sound emanating from it. The sound that had been a constant since the close call with the empire the previous week. (Y/N) soon stood, intending to return to her quarters to retrieve the medical equipment she'd been collecting over the months. All things she'd need to take care of Wolffe's cybernetic, as well as properly tend to any injuries that may occur. 

"My eye can wait," called Wolffe with a sigh, noticing the blinking red light on the dashboard, indicating someone was trying to contact them. "We're being hailed again," he added, waiting for Snap to return to the co-pilot chair before all but whacking the blinking button as if it was a deadly insect that needed to be squashed quickly. From the force of the whack and the groaning of the dashboard, (Y/N) was almost certain Wolffe had broken the button. His anger at their situation was likely getting the better of him again. 

As normal, Snap remained quiet, listening intently as if to determine if the caller was trying to deceive them, as had happened a few times before, back when they were still finding their feet as fugitives and before they worked out their little system. Wolffe, as normal, kept his voice even but gruff, asking the caller to identify themselves in a way that few would dare refuse. 

"CT-7567," answered the familiar voice of Jango Fett, a voice millions of Clones across the galaxy shared. "Rex, former Captain of the 501st, served under General Anakin Skywalker," added the voice. Wolffe allowed a relieved grin to pass over his lips before forcing it back again and regaining his rigid seriousness. He'd allowed himself to be fooled by an old friend weeks ago with Cody, only to find out the former commander of the 212th was serving the empire. Although Wolffe was sure he could have trusted Cody, he didn't take the risk of revealing (Y/N) was with him, although safely stowed away on the ship. 

"State your purpose," almost growled Wolffe, trying not to show he was hoping for the best. That Rex was there as an ali rather than to help the Empire get hold of Snap. 

"CC-5576 here. Lighten up, you gruffly old bugger. Rexy's been looking for you since the war ended," spoke a second voice, one that managed to draw an eye roll from Wolffe and quiet laughter from Snap. The medic was quick to slap her hands over her mouth in an effort to stop any sound from escaping and alert Rex and Gregor she was there. "He thought you were under imperial control until I told him otherwise. Didn't believe when I said you were too stubborn to listen to Order 66." 

"I'm sending you coordinates, rendezvous with us. We'll talk Snap there," voiced Rex as Wolffe glanced toward (Y/N), noticing her attention was on the vast void of space stretching as far as the eye could see. He soon followed her line of sight, seeing a larger freighter in the distance. It looked like those piloting it had a close call with someone or something. Sure enough, mere seconds after the beeping sounded to signal something received, the ship jumped into hyperspace. 

"Jedha," whispered Snap, her voice uneven and flooded with all the emotions she tried to suppress. "Midrim, but a good place to disappear for a little while," she added with a sigh, escaping her lips shortly after. If she was honest, she liked the idea of leaving the ship for a little bit; as much as she was thankful for the safety it offered, the durasteel walls had started to feel like a prison. The void of space made it feel like happiness and freedom could never be achieved. "Penny, for your thoughts?" asked Snap, briefly turning away from Wolffe to program the hyperdrive, preparing for the journey through hyperspace to reach their new destination. 

"Mixed feelings," replied Wolffe, submitting to (Y/N) attending to his eye. He at least had faith she could fix the damage done to it and had hoped she could once again ease the pain as she'd done many times before. "For almost a year, it's been a constant struggle to survive, always looking over our shoulder and coming to terms with being unable to trust old friends or seemingly harmless civvies. It's just been me and you. My heart is telling me to trust Rex and the mad buffoon, but my instincts are screaming there is something off," admitted the battle-tested commander. He knew better than most to listen to his gut when it told him something was off. He'd paid the price for ignoring those very instincts during the war; now he had Snap to protect as well; he had the weight of knowing his choices affected her as much as himself. 

"Do you trust Rex and Gregor?" asked Snap once she'd removed Wolffe's cybernetic. From the prevailing vision, she noticed Wolffe put a black eye back over the empty socket, preventing anything from getting into it. "Can you describe the noise said cybernetic makes?" she added, her attention remaining on the small device in her gloved hand, turning it gently as if searching for the course of the sound Wolffe had unknowingly yelled about during his sleep. "You talk in your sleep," she commented after seeing Wolffe throwing a confused look in her direction. 

"It's difficult to describe," replied the battle-worn commander, rubbing the back of his neck to buff away the embarrassment creeping up from the collar of his shirt. "A combination of scraping, drilling, scratching, and vibrating. It sometimes squeaks when it gets stuck," he answered, finding it tougher than expected to describe the sound he kept hearing from the eye properly. "Been playing up since the last close call with the imps." 

"What about you? How are you handling your demons?" asked the former Commander of the 104th, recalling the many sleepless nights he'd comforted Snap after she'd woken up terrified by nightmares, covered in a thin layer of a cold sweat. She was always shivering, tears staining her cheeks, frightened of every little shadow for days after. The nights the past plagued her were the ones she asked Wolffe to stay with her; the safety and comfort he brought her just about enough to settle her, even if it was just for a short snap. 

"It's hard," replied Snap, debating if she should open up about what plagued her every time she tried to sleep. Sometimes, it was as simple as the faces of all those she failed to save during the war, both troopers and civilians caught in the crossfire. The friends she was forced to leave behind after the war ended, most of the time, her imagination conjured up the worst scenes. What remained of her family was that her parents had to bury at least one daughter; force only knows what they thought regarding Devika and herself. She worried for Devika, always wondering what happened to her bright little sister, hoping she was safe and didn't share the same fate as Isolde. 

Questions haunted her too, most of the time of things that couldn't be changed. What would have happened if the Jedi listened to Fives when he'd tried so hard to warn them? What happened to Kix? He'd suddenly disappeared mere days after the mission to the information center on Anaxes. What about Echo and the Bad Batch? Did they enact Order 66? Were they somewhere with the empire, helping to force the galaxy into the mold the emperor wanted, helping to sow fear and hate? 

She thought about the empire, too, what they wanted with her and why they were so insistent on her capture. She questioned why she was so valuable to them; after all, she was nothing more than a civilian medic during the war, one of the thousands to apply for the role, and one of the thousands of civil personnel a part of the GAR. It didn't make sense to her why they wanted her so much. Nor did the original transfer, the advanced science division, make sense to her. She was no scientist, just a simple medic with a passion for helping people. 

"There's so many unanswered questions, so much fear and distrust, so much loss. It feels like I'm being pulled in so many directions that I'm being torn apart. I'm scared for Devika, always wondering if she survived the end of the war or shared Isolde's fate. I'm terrified to think about what happened to friends, to loved ones both of us were forced to leave behind. I'm afraid of what the future will hold, of the unknown, of losing someone else I care for. It's like I'm in a tug of war of what the future will be like if the empire finds us and the person I could have been if things ended differently," worded Snap, unaware of the tears staining her cheeks again until Wolffe reached out to wipe them away, sympathy painting his features, although it was clear he'd suspected she struggled with everything. 

"Listen to me, Ad'ika. You are not alone. Things may get tough, but you are a fighter, a survivor. You'll get through this. We'll get through it. Remember what Cody said: you have an army of brothers. Right now, you're stuck with me, and I'll be damned if I let the empire take away someone else. They took away my brothers and played a game with our lives. You're not going to suffer more; neither of us are," spoke Wolffe, trying to inspire confidence and give (Y/N) a little hope things would eventually get better. Both of them would be stronger once they got through the trials placed before them. 

(Y/N) could only whisper a quiet thank you before continuing on with her previous task. Feeling a little bit of the weight lift of her shoulders but she still worried for Wolffe. Even now, he refused to open up to her, always carrying the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, determined to carry the burden without help, even when it was getting to him too. Snap was no fool; she knew it was more than the damaged cybernetic getting to the former commander. She knew his past was getting to him, too; the unanswered questions plagued his mind. What happened to the rest of the Wolffe Pack? Guilt over being unable to save more or General Plo, the man who had been a father figure to many. She knew the nightmares he suffered, the day he lost his eye on repeat as the sound of the lightsaber haunted him. The brothers he lost to Grievous and the Malevolence, watching as the escape pods were cracked open, the survivor's guilt and PTSD. 

"I know you won't talk about it. But if you feel like everything is getting too much to handle. Please say something. You're not alone either," softly spoke Snap, fiddling with the small cybernetic, a small smile painting itself across her lips upon finding the damaged area. She got to work on fixing it with her, the limited knowledge she had, determined to bring her close friend some comfort. "As for Gregor and Rex, there's nothing wrong with hoping. Whatever you decide, you've got my support," she added before nodding and turning her attention back to Wolffe fully, indicating she was done fiddling for now or needed his opinion regarding the silver-colored cybernetic. 

Quietly, Wolffe removed the eye patch, closing his good eye while waiting for the expected cold ball to be placed back in his empty socket. The process was always uncomfortable, but at least (Y/N) was gentle, her touch always as light as feathers, healing even. The moment the cybernetic was in place, Snap tapped his shoulder, giving Wolffe a little time to readjust. As expected, he shook his head a little and tapped the side of his temple a few times as if trying to will the silver eye back into place. 

"The noise is gone," commented Wolffe, noticing the vision was much clearer now. Before (Y/N) fiddled with the tiny device, the edges of the vision had been blurry and colorless, almost fading into black. Now, it was sharp and clear, perhaps better than when he'd first received it. "Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He knew Snap was a good medic; she was friendly and always put others before herself, and she was caring and a good listener. But her talent for fixing things was new, or at least not one he'd noticed before. The former commander was aware others had taught her things; he, Gregor, and Rex had taught her to use blasters during the war, if only so she could protect herself. Fives had taught her hand-to-hand combat as well with Jesse's help. 

"General Skywalker, mainly he was always fiddling with something when stressed," replied Snap, a soft smile coming to her lips as her shoulders relaxed from their previous rigid position. "Probably picked things up from Tech as well," she added, recalling the many times Tech had told her about his side projects scattered around the barracks on Kamino and aboard the Marauder. 

A low rumble of laughter soon escaped Wolffe as he shook his head again. Soon after, a smirk appeared across his lips, one he didn't try to fight off this time. Instead, he wondered what else she had picked up over the years of service to the Republic and GAR. 

"Definitely not made of glass," commented Wolffe, recalling her comment from their first meeting aboard the triumph. "More of a verd'ika now, stronger than you know," he complimented, as the beeping signaling they were close to their destination echoed around the cockpit. A rainbow of colors soon replaced the once blue and white swirls of hyperspace, and then a large desert planet appeared; from their position, the sandy dunes looked similar in color to that of Geonsis, the sandy planet where the clone wars had begun all those years ago. 

Series Masterlist

#star wars #reader insert #reader interactive #the clone wars #the bad batch #star wars fanfiction #captain rex #commander wolffe #clone commando gregor #fluff #friendship #fluffy wolffe #fem! medic reader #medic reader #part 18 #forgive me (echo x medic reader) #cross posted to wattpad #cross posted on quotev #cross posted on ao3 #happy new year x

[tokachithewarrior2]

- luciel toma a tokachi del suelo y la sostiene entre sus brazos -

No te preocupes, Aquí estoy!

- Ella se está poniendo nerviosa y asustada por el dolor que está pasando a tokachi, hace lo mejor para retener la sangre -

- la comienza a cargar en brazos y mientras ella se cubre el adomen -

"... al diablo.."

lo siento maestra Lucy

- De sus espalda brotan sus alas de angel y ella se pone en posision de vuelo, pero tokachi mira a luciel con preocupación -

"--- n-no.. el examen."

"Olvídalo hermana, Tu vas Primero"

- Ella toma fuerte a su hermanita y toma el vuelo -

"Casi llegaremos, solo respira hondo"

.

.

Anterior || comienzo ||

Fin de capitulo 1

¡Eso es un envoltorio! Lo lograstes! En ver este capítulo completo me alegro que me handes Sigendo y apoyándome para dar más continuación nwn

Se que no lees pero no me gana más la alegría de que aún sigas aquí amigo mío 😊

#tokachithewarrier2 #tokachi #love #tokachi the warrier #soul crash #tokachithewarrier #my art #luciel #comic #my comic #part 18 #parte 18 #cw: blood #angel girl

[drumkenz]

(via GIPHY)

#giphy #showtime #twin peaks #driving #finale #laura #cooper #laura palmer #twin peaks the return #the return #twin peaks on showtime #agent cooper #twinpeaksonshowtime #part 18

[abutchdisaster]

Things I'd do for a cute girl: part 18

I'm back. With more entertaining content. How long will this go on? Probably until I get a girlfriend. So far it has been like 4 or 5 years I think?

Showing up at her place in the morning with breakfast and a single flower bc I just finished my shift and I'm about to pass out til 6pm, but baby I haven't seen you in person in two weeks because we've both been busy, so here's breakfast, can I nap on your couch while you eat?

Stupid activity dates. Not the grown adult kind where you go axe throwing or make couples pottery or go to the pub with friends, I mean the kind where I spend like $10 so we can make bouncy balls and eat grapes, or make slime and throw it at each other

Randomly send dramatic ass poems. Maybe romantic, maybe not, I just enjoy poems that sound deep or passionate or gay as fuck. Possibly written down and sealed with wax for that extra drama

3am crepes with Nutella and strawberries and fresh whipped cream! Can't sleep? Want food? K, I got it baby, just chill, I'll be back in like 20-ish? You want some tea while I'm up?

Build-a-bear. I personally don't like having much plush toys anymore, bit of a waste of space and money for me, but if my girl did oh you can fucking bet I'm taking her on a build-a-bear date at the mall where we make each other a soft toy and then go get lunch and maybe boba or ice cream after and then if she wants to walk around for a bit and shop I'll carry her shit so she can carry her bear

#things id do for a cute girl #nblw #lesbian #nonbinary #sapphic #wlw #stone butch #part 18 #no i will not be linking posts. have fun

[hazbin-luciferalastor]

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #anastasia crossover hazbin hotel #part 18

[ejzah]

In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 18

***

“Hey, I’m bringing bagels and coffee. Any requests?” Kensi texted Deeks Saturday morning. She’d stopped off at a bakery on the way to his house.

Last week, he’d surprised her with donuts, so it only seemed fair. Plus, she figured he could use a break from cooking. Deeks didn’t respond by the time she reached the register, so she ordered three of her favorites—a triple cheese bagel toasted with cream cheese—, her usual iced coffee, and one of the lattes Deeks favored, and an apple juice for Caleb.

She was a little surprised that he didn’t answer since he was usually up early with Caleb. Maybe he’d slept in for once though. Kensi smiled at the thought of a drowsy, sleep-mussed Deeks.

It was just after 10 when she knocked on the front door, and it was a minute or two longer before it sung open. “Hey, lazy bones, did you—?” Kensi started to say, the joke she’d spent the whole ride over crafting dying on her lips as she realized a woman, not Deeks stood in front of her. “Um—”

“Oh, you must be Kensi,” the woman said before Kensi could form a coherent sentence. “I’m Roberta. Come on in.”

“Mrs. Deeks, I had no idea you’d be here,” Kensi apologized, taking a couple steps back. “I can come back another time.”

“Nonsense! Marty’ll be ready in a minute.” Holding her arm wide, Roberta waited for Kensi to hesitantly step inside, then continued father into the house, talking a minute a mile. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have whipped up something special for breakfast, but it looks like you got that covered.”

“Oh, it’s just bagels, no big deal.” Kensi gestured lamely with the drinks carrier and paper bag.

“Let me tell you, food is the way to most men’s hearts.”

“Actually, Deeks is usually the one who cooks,” Kensi found herself saying, and instantly regretted. She internally winced, and wished that she’d had some forewarning before this meeting.

Roberta turned, settling her hands on her hips, and narrowed her eyes at Kensi. Then to Kensi’s complete surprise, she smiled. “I like you,” she decided. “Deeks needs an honest woman. Who cares who does the cooking.”

“Ok.” Kensi smiled back a little uncertainly.

“Hey mom, Caleb wants you to help him pick out some pajamas,” Deeks said from somewhere down the hallway, appearing in the living room in sweat pants and a faded t-shirt a few seconds later. His expression from confused to pleased as he noticed Kensi awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. “Kensi. I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“I texted you,” Kensi explained. “Though I’d bring over some breakfast.”

“God, I’m sorry. It’s been a crazy morning.” He rolled his eyes in the direction of his mom, who made a huffing sound.

“I’ll give you two a minute. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” She gave them both a pointed look. “I’ll help Caleb finish packing.”

Deeks waited until she was out of sigh to let his head fall back. “Oh my god,” he sighed. When he straightened up again, he added. “I am so sorry about that. I haven’t checked my phone in a while.”

“That’s ok.” She glanced around the room, which didn’t hold any clear signs of an impending trip. “Are you guys going somewhere?”

“Food first. Then I’ll explain. “ Deeks rested his hand on her lower back, ushering her into the kitchen. While he grabbed plates, Kensi pulled out three bagels which were still slightly warm and crunchy on top.

“And that is a beautiful sight. Bless you, Kensi Blye,” he said, accepting the bagel with a sigh of happiness. He took a generous bite, shoulders relaxing for the first time since she saw him.

“Ok, so why is Caleb packing?” Kensi prompted.

“Every so often, mama takes him for a couple days. They go to all his favorite places, watch movies together. Usually, we plan it a little more, but since my mom is wonderfully unpredictable and chaotic, she decided to surprise us. Which is why I couldn’t warn you.”

“And you’re ok with her just dropping in like that?” Kensi asked with some surprise. She’d seen how protective he was of Caleb.

“A couple years ago, my answer would be “absolutely not”, but I’ve seen how much she cares about him. She’d never actually pull any crazy stunts with Caleb because she loves him too much. Sure, he might get significantly more ice cream for dinner than I would prefer, but mom holds in her more…eccentric qualities when she’s taking care of him.”

Kensi nibbled at the top of her bagel, putting together the mismatched pieces that Deeks have provided. It painted a very interesting picture of his mother.

“She seems to know a lot about me.”

“I may have mentioned you a time or two,” Deeks admitted reluctantly, dipping his head to conceal the blush highlighting his cheekbones.

“Don’t believe him,” Roberta disagreed, sweeping back into the kitchen. “I haven’t heard this boy gush so much since the time he got to meet one of his surfing idols.” She squeezed his shoulders affectionately, blatantly ignoring his glare.

“Thanks so much mother. Don’t you have reservations to make or some national secrets to spill?”

“Oh, don’t be salty, Marty. This girl deserves to know that you think she’s amazing and gorgeous.”

Kensi pressed her lips together to conceal a grin as Roberta shamelessly ruffled his hair.

“Grandma!” Caleb called from the other room, and Roberta dashed back out to see to him.

“Amazing and gorgeous,” Kensi repeated, taking a healthy sip of her coffee. “Interesting.”

His entire face was flushed a light pink now. “Uh, I believe the exact words I used were fantastic and stunning,” he corrected.

“Ah, completely different,” she teased. Huffing a laugh, Deeks slid his hand across the table and threaded their fingers together. “I’m sorry,” he gestured across the room with his head. “I know she’s a lot to take in without warning.”

“Deeks, it’s fine.” Any discomfort she initially felt had been obliterated by Roberta Deeks’ complete lack of boundaries. “Though I do want to hear more about what makes me so stunning.”

“Dad, we’re leaving!” Caleb announced, running into the kitchen with Roberta trailing behind him.

“Woah, how much did you pack?” Deeks asked, examining Caleb’s backpack, which couldn’t quite contain several superhero figures and what looked like a stuffed rabbit or possibly a lamb. “You do know you’re going for like a day and a half, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to forget something important. Grandma’s house is like a 100 miles away.”

“Well, you can argue with logic like that.” Deeks kissed the top of his head and swung him up into a tight hug.” Have fun, kiddo. And listen to grandma.” Turning to Roberta he added, “Have fun and try not to end up in the news.”

“He thinks he’s a comedian,” Roberta said with an eye roll. While father an son finished talking, she added, “It was nice meeting you, Kensi. You’ll have to come over for dinner sometime.”

“Oh, sure. That’d be great.”

“Bye, dad!” Caleb said, kissing Deeks’ cheek and hopping to the ground. To Kensi’s surprise, he skipped over and gave her a hug. “Bye, Miss Blye. C’mon grandma, let’s go before they run out of pizza!”

Roberta let him drag her from the room, picking up an extra duffel bag as she went. “We’ll be back Sunday night.”

Deeks rested his chin on his palms and laughed softly. “So, now you see why we don’t live near each other. Definitely didn’t see my weekend going this way.”

“Well, you do have me, and bagels,” Kensi pointed out.

“True.” Deeks lifted his coffee in a silent cheers, then leaned forward, expression shifting in an instant to something more intimate. “Kensi, would you go out with me for our first completely solo and undisturbed dinner?” he asked.

“I would love to, Mr. Deeks.”

***

A/N: Probably the most unrealistic thing about this story is how much free time Kensi has as a teacher.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #lawyer deeks #teacher Kensi #self indulgent writer #in miss Blye’s class #part 18 #au #fluff #ejzah fanfiction

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - The Epilogue

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: This chapter is set about a month before "Love Actually." So...are you ready?

Song Inspo: For this last chapter, it’s “The Book of Love” by Peter Gabriel. (It’s just lovely. I listened to it while writing the second half of the epilogue!)

Word Count: 7,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Violence and peril, angst, familiar bickering, smutty smut, bit of breeding kink, tender fluff, hurt/comfort, and an ending…

Epilogue: All My Living Time

“I’m not fucking around,” he said. “I want you to live with me.” 

Your smile was soft and bright when you took his hand. Ben wouldn’t admit it, but something in his chest stuttered to life then.

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

Six months later…

You were frustrated with your roommate.

And yes, you used the word roommate, because he hadn’t seen fit to give it any other label.

You stewed in your irritation as you also stirred the beginnings of chicken tortilla soup. It was early in the morning before work, and Yvette had been teaching you how to master the crockpot. Hopefully, by the time you and Ben got home tonight, it would be ready and waiting for dinner.

Six months. You had to nag him about cabinets left open, dirty boots left right in front of the door to your shared apartment, and hell, actually going to his therapy sessions.

While that last one had taken months of convincing and cajoling, he’d caved when you suggested that acknowledging and dealing with what happened to him in Russia might help him control the nuclear power inside him. And maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t have to patch another hole in the ceiling.

Mind you, he wouldn’t actually talk to said therapist about anything related to his PTSD. But at least he was going. And the therapist was apparently getting an earful of Ben’s celebrity encounters, with all the explicit, gushy details.

However, even with all of this, it also sometimes felt like you were an in-house maid rather than a partner.

The latest reason for your frustration returned to you when Ben strolled into the kitchen in search of coffee. He wasn’t yet dressed for work in his supe suit; instead, still in the plain shirt and sweatpants he’d slept in.

He glanced at you, and seeming to sense your mood, he kept to himself as he found his usual mug and poured a cup of steaming French press in silence.

You took in a breath, trying to calm yourself. Maybe he’d had time to sleep on it. You closed the crockpot and went over to him. Your hand on his arm made him pause.

“Hey,” you said, “have you thought about what I asked you last night?”

Ben’s expression remained flat. “I think I already said my piece on that.”

You sighed.

“Why is dinner with my family such a hard thing for you?” you asked. Your brows furrowed. “My sister’s starting to warm up to you! And Mom just wants to get to know you. What’s the problem?”

Ben scoffed. “Your sister fucking hates me.”

You bit your lip. He wasn’t totally wrong, but in fairness, Louisa wasn’t happy to learn about why you’d nearly died in the hospital, when Vought Tower collapsed.

She thought you needed therapy for an egregious case of Stockholm Syndrome. But the more Ben worked with Supe Affairs, helping to clear the streets of out-of-control supes and cleaning up the remains of Vought, you were slowly getting Louisa to come around.

“She just needs time to get to know you too,” you said.

Ben wasn’t having it though. He rolled his eyes and tried to walk away from you with his coffee and a newspaper—aiming to get to his favorite lounge chair in the living room. It was the way he always started his morning, like the old man he was.

You followed him.

“Come on, one dinner won’t kill you,” you said. “And by the way, neither would moving your dirty-ass boots out of the doorway.”

You went over to grab said boots, and in your annoyance, you all but tossed them into the hall. Ben frowned at you, throwing down the newspaper onto the coffee table.

“Why’re you nagging me like a goddamn wife?” he snapped.

“Wife?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You don’t even call me your girlfriend.”

But God forbid another man even smile in your direction. Ben was possessive, protective, and claimed with all but words that you were his. And yet, he wouldn’t say it.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was afraid of commitment, but you’d been living together for six damn months. Almost seven, if you counted the safe house.

When you found this nice, but cozy apartment in Scarsdale, you’d sat him down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, like the two of you used to in that house in Medellin.

And you established the ground rules before you two officially moved in together: 

First, an exclusive relationship meant exclusive. Meaning no fucking around. (He’d raised a brow at you.)

Second, you were his partner, not his slave. You expected him to carry his hefty weight, not only in the relationship, but around the house. (He’d most definitely rolled his eyes at that.)

And finally, don’t be an asshole, you’d decreed. “Be honest when you’re not feeling right about something. But don’t be a dick about it.” 

That cut both ways, of course, just like the other two rules. He’d agreed to all of these, albeit begrudgingly. You hadn’t really known then if he meant it.

And now, looking at him, you still had no idea if he was trying, or if he was just tired of being alone…and if you were just a convenient bedwarmer. You bit your lip once again, this time with a growing fear blooming anxiety in your chest.

“Do you even love me?” you asked.

Ben blinked down at you, and his lips pulled into a deep frown.

“Stop fucking around,” he said.

“I’m serious,” you insisted. Your crossed arms tightened, as if to protect yourself from what he might say. “You’ve never said it once.”

“And the fact that I agreed to live in this mediocre fucking apartment doesn’t mean anything?” he said, gesturing around him with a hand. “I take you out, I buy you shit. Matter of fact, I fucking spoil you.”

“And you take off whenever you feel like it, especially after missions,” you shot back. “Sometimes I don’t know where the hell you’ve gone for hours. For all I know, you’re out there doing blow with a caravan of strippers!”

While that did sound like a damn good time, that hadn’t been Ben’s M.O. in recent months. And in his mind, you should’ve known better.

“I haven’t fucked anyone but you since we moved in here,” he snapped.

Even longer than that, if he was honest. 

Meanwhile, you wanted to trust his words, desperately, but you just didn’t know if you could. 

“Even if I believe you, what’s the problem here?” you asked. Your gaze fell from his as you worried your bottom lip. “Am I doing something wrong?”

You didn’t see the way Ben’s brows knitted together, his eyes softening a bit.

“Other than annoying the hell out of me right now, no,” he replied. 

“Okay,” you nodded with a sigh. You looked up at him again. “Then just tell me the truth. What are we doing here?” 

“What the fuck do you mean?” Ben’s hands went to his waist, and once again, he frowned in irritation. “I’m here. What more do you want from me?” 

“Do you love me?” you asked. “And don’t lie to me.” 

He knew very well that you would be able to detect if he was lying. Which was why, you suspected, he hadn’t tried to. 

He couldn’t seem to answer you though…and that broke your heart.

Shaking your head, you walked away from him to get ready for work.

Your attitude at work was snappish at best. Annie had pulled you from the Surveillance department on your lunch break to join her and your friends in the breakroom, but you couldn’t enjoy yourself like you usually would.

“Smooth and creamy, all the motherfuckin’ way,” M.M. said. Sitting across from him in the breakroom was Frenchie, pelting him with a roasted peanut.

“This is why you are an unsophisticated, bourgeois, fucking fuddy-duddy,” Frenchie remarked. He was also vaping, as Annie was trying to get him to stop smoking indoors. “Extra crunchy peanut butter is the only way to do business.”

“What’s the point? Just eat peanuts if you want it that crunchy,” M.M. countered. He blocked each roasted nut thrown at him and organized them in a perfect pile on the table.

“You know what? You’re right. Smooth and creamy is how I’ll eat out your mother’s sweet and savory vajine,” Frenchie teased.

M.M.’s deadpan face was priceless. But when a peanut projectile strayed and hit you in the cheek, you leveled Frenchie with a glare.

“Can you guys not act like children for five goddamn minutes?” you snapped.

His brows raised, along with his hands in surrender. M.M. and Annie looked at you in mild surprise, and the latter with concern after the guys eventually left.

“What’s going on with you? You’ve looked tense as hell all day,” she asked. You sighed, holding a hand to your brow.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you replied. She gave you a knowing look.

“Is…something going on?” she asked. “Is it Ben?”

Most of the S.A. was still wary of Ben, while M.M. tolerated him at best. (You understood how hard he was trying.)

You appreciated Annie though. She was a good friend, and along with Hughie, she’d been another who started to come around to the idea of Ben. Not only as he occasionally worked with the S.A., but to the man himself, after she’d seen the way he did his best to save you, Yvette, and her son Devon.

You nodded at her question. You couldn’t help the tears burgeoning in your eyes. Annie scooched her chair over so she could rub your back in comfort. You sniffed and tried not to break down here in the middle of the breakroom, over your sad ham sandwich.

“We had a fight,” you admitted. Annie’s gaze was tight with concern.

“Did he…hurt you?” she asked. Her brown eyes were as direct as her words, promising her protection as well as retribution, depending on how you answered.

Your glassy eyes widened. “No. He’s not like that, he…believe it or not, but he’s never hurt me, Annie. Not once.”

After a moment, she nodded. “Okay, good. Well, tell me what happened.”

You wanted to. But before you could, both of you got an incoming text in the team group chat. It was from Grace Mallory.

She had a new mission.

Grace asked you to join the team on your first field mission since you’d returned to work three months ago. She also called in Ben, as in her words, it was another “all hands on fucking deck” situation.

Ben and Butcher eyed one another with similar stoic frowns, before they proceeded to ignore each other. Despite how you felt about Ben right now, the brief exchange almost made you smirk.

Apparently the whole I saved you with my super blood thing was awkward for both of them. You knew Ben had seen it as a means to an end. You still didn’t know how Butcher felt about it, but it seemed as if a begrudging respect had formed between the two men.

Or at least, they were civil, anyway.

“All right,” Grace said, once she saw that everyone was in attendance. “Let’s begin.”

A supe named Sapphire had been giving the CIA trouble for years now. She was moving drugs from South America to the States, to the Middle East, whoever would deal with her. And she was smart. She had a network of spies that transcended continents, and so she had evaded every attempt at arrest.

She was also a powerful supe, with the ability to channel vaporizing energy not unlike Crimson Countess had. However, this supe could spear blue shards of light through her enemies as well.  With her damn eyes.

Grace turned to you after she finished explaining the details of the mission.

“Sapphire’s internal security is advanced. Our system can’t penetrate her firewalls. You’ll need to get a hand on the mainframe from there, shut down her system. Then our Surveillance team can back you up here.”

You nodded, but in the corner of your eye, you noticed Ben frowning as he crossed his arms.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re out of practice,” he told you. “You really think you’re ready for this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I train every day,” you snapped back.

Ben’s expression fell into irritation. “Not the same, and you fucking know it.”

Butcher, Annie, and the others watched the exchange with mixed wariness and discomfort. Grace looked between you and Ben with curious, narrowed eyes.

“Is this going to be a problem, you two working together on this?” she asked.

You turned from Ben’s annoyed face and met Grace’s gaze directly.

“Not at all,” you said.

Sapphire had been spotted doing business in the Meat Packing District. By day, the building was a beef butchering factory. By night, it was apparently one of the most massive drug running operations in the city.

As such, her security team was extensive—at the front, the back, and the roof. So while Butcher, Kimiko, and Ben broke through the front, making a lot of noise and distraction, the rest of you went under.

Unfortunately, that meant the sewer. Annie lit the way through, while M.M. followed a set of schematics to find the right spot.

“It’s not my first time in the bowels of New York City, but please God, let it be the last,” Hughie quipped. You tried not to breathe the foul smell through your nose.

“Watch the fucking rat,” M.M. said with a grimace, before he set up the double-sided ladder he brought. He and Frenchie climbed either side of it up to the metal ceiling which, according to the building’s schematics, led directly beneath the factory basement.

They took up welding guns and masks to carve a large hole into the metal and cement above. And soon enough, they pushed up and slid over a large portion, creating a gap you could all crawl through. 

M.M. helped Annie up first, and she shot a few star bolts at the three men inside, who had been smoking and eating deli sandwiches. Each of them went down, alive, but groaning in pain. That allowed the rest of you to climb up and into the basement.

“We’re in,” M.M. said into the Bluetooth communicator in his ear.

“We’re cutting through her goon squad,” Butcher said. “Sapphire’s here somewhere. I can smell a massive cunt already.”

“Gross. Thanks for that visual,” Annie remarked.

From there, you all took off toward the stairwell. It was your task to find the operation’s security control room. So Hughie and Frenchie went with you as backup, while M.M. and Annie went to join the fight and find Sapphire.

It took you a few tries to find the right room. Most of them were offices. One contained wagons of discarded meat parts (disgusting). But eventually, you found a large room filled with computer equipment and a huge wall monitor with several panels of camera feeds. You and Frenchie raised your guns and took out the team inside.

Then you and Hughie went to the controls. Frenchie watched the door while you worked to disable the firewall first. You instructed Hughie on how to knock out their communications as well. And within a few minutes, your work was done. You were able to make a call to the S.A. Surveillance team.

“Hey, friend!” a cheerful voice greeted you. You smiled; it was your coworker Jess, who you’d worked with for the past two years. 

“Jess?”

“Yep! I’m helping out on this one. What do you need?”

“I shut down the firewall. I’m giving you the I.P. address now so you can connect.”

“…Okay, got it. I’m in. I can see all twenty cameras, and you! Hey, there.”

“All right, where’s Sapphire?” you asked.

“Looks like they haven’t found her yet,” Hughie said, pointing at the camera feed in the main room, filled with rows of conveyor belts, and a massive fight as Ben, Butcher, and the others made their way through the building.

“We’ll just have to help them clear each room,” you said. “Let’s go. Jess, keep an eye on us, but look out for Sapphire.”

“Will do. I’m patched into your comm now too,” she said. So you hung up your cell, and you left with Hughie and Frenchie.

You ran into more security when you left the room, more than the three of you could realistically handle as a fire fight began. You guys ran in the opposite direction, but while you veered right around the corner, Frenchie and Hughie ran left. Bullets tore in between, making sure that none of you could cross the hall to join back up.

“You guys keep going. I’ll find my own way out,” you called out to them. Neither of them liked that idea, but Frenchie nodded and pulled Hughie away when Sapphire’s security team closed in.

You kept running down the hall. You knew you were being chased. Several heavy footsteps thundered behind you. 

“Jess, I need a way out of here,” you commed in.

“You’re on the second floor,” she said. “The closest stairwell is the one you’re running away from.”

“What’s the second closest?” You panted as you ran.

“Hmm, you can cut through room 234. The exit stairwell is right on the other side.”

 “Is the room clear?” you asked.

After a moment, Jess answered. “Yep, it should be.”

"Should be?”you said dubiously.

“What the hell’s going on?” you heard Ben’s voice on the line. You heard the edge of his annoyance (and underlying worry), but you didn’t have time to talk to him right now.

“Looks clear on my end,” said Jess,“but this connection is a bit wonky.”

Damn it, Jess, you thought. When you reached room 234, the door was solid gray. There was no window to peek into, and you didn’t have time for caution, as a stray bullet nearly caught you in the head.

You ripped the door open and ran in, slamming the door shut behind you and locking it for good measure.

You turned around and stopped short. A gasp caught in your throat.

The room was huge, and it was filled wall-to-wall with white packages, of what you could only assume was cocaine. A few men were continuing to stack them. At the center of it all was a tall woman, rich tan skin, long black hair, wearing a deep blue pantsuit and killer heels. She looked like a boss ass bitch.

But unfortunately, she was also looking straight at you, raising a brow.

“Ah,” she said. A smile curved her lips, painted with a dark plum lipstick. “You’re one of the little bitches making a mess in my office.” 

Her eyes glowed blue, and yours widened. You dove for the nearest shelter—a wall of cocaine parcels. White powder exploded and wafted in the air as you ducked and ran across the room (and tried not to inhale). You drew your gun and shot out the legs of her men underneath the long stretch of table, but you yelped as bullets continued to follow you.

“I found Sapphire! Need backup in 234!” you shouted into the comm.

But when a blast of blue energy rocked into the wall directly behind you, you screamed as you were thrown forward. You landed painfully on your side, with the wind knocked out of you.

After a moment, you drew breath into your lungs and were able to pick yourself up. The exit door was close, a mere few feet away, but the second you reached for it, you had to pull back as narrow blue shards of light pierced the door. 

Sapphire was quickly approaching, just a yard or so away from grabbing you.

Instead of shooting your gun, you went for the taser at your belt and shot fast. Sapphire grabbed the end of the line like a fucking moron. Her blue eyes widened in outrage and pain when it shocked 50,000 volts of electricity through her body.

You took your chance, and you ripped the door open and fled. You just didn’t expect the bolt of energy that shot after you when you reached the stairs.

It didn’t hit you, but trying to dodge it made you lose your balance. You uttered a short scream as you were forced to jump the first flight of stairs.

You landed on the middle platform between the first and second floor. This time, you knew you twisted your ankle badly on the way down. You whimpered, holding your ankle and shin, but you knew you didn’t have time to waste.

It was a struggle to claw your way up to the guard rail. You could barely put pressure on your right foot, but you had no choice as you scrambled down the rest of the stairs. Already the door to the stairwell was blown open, and a pissed supe was on her way down behind you.

After shoving the door open on the first floor, you stumbled out and took another painful spill across the concrete floor. To your relief, M.M. picked you up by your arms.

The door behind you swung open, and before Sapphire could fire off a vaporizing blow, Ben raised his new titanium shield in front of you and M.M.

The blue energy bounced right off, and Ben used his shield to bat the supe right in the face—like swatting a fly. With a shriek, she was thrown hard against the wall.

Sapphire sunk to her knees, then the electric blue flickered out of her eyes as she fell unconscious to the floor.

When you all returned to Supe Affairs, Ben thundered down the hall towards the Surveillance department.

“Ben!” You hurried after him the best you could with a sprained ankle, bare-footed and wrapped, while M.M. and Hughie trailed behind. The others were busy getting Sapphire into custody.

Hughie was concerned for you though, while M.M. also wanted to know how you were going to try and reign in Soldier Boy.

“What the hell are you doing?” you called after Ben.

“I wanna know what goddamn moron cleared that fucking room,” he barked, but he didn’t slow down.

M.M. called your name from behind.

“Get your boyfriend in check,” he warned.

You sighed in irritation. At this point, you didn’t even know if he was your boyfriend.

But you struggled to reach him. You were practically hopping on one foot. The moment you tried to put any pressure on your right one, you faltered with a cry as you all but crashed against the wall to catch yourself. Hughie went to help you, grabbing your arm gently with a supportive hand on your back.

You didn’t see it, but that was when Ben stopped short. His jaw ticked. And he turned on his booted heel. When he saw you struggling to support yourself against the wall, he reluctantly went back. He knocked Hughie’s scrawny hands off you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

When he tried to just gather you into his arms to get the weight off your injured foot, you snapped at him.

“I can walk!” you said. “Let’s just go home please.”

His nostrils flared in irritation, but he helped you try to walk back toward the exit instead. You winced in pain with every small step.

Ben growled in annoyance. Fuck this. 

He hefted you effortlessly into his arms. You gasped and clung to his shoulders, and afterwards, you glared at him.

“I said I can walk!” you insisted.

“Shut up,” he grated out, swiftly heading for the exit doors down the hall. M.M. and Hughie watched with wide eyes while you and Ben devolved into what you did best.

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” you raised your voice.

He glared at you. “You’re in rare fucking form right now.”

“You’re the one being an asshole!”

“And you’re being a disrespectful brat!”

You rolled your eyes as anger burned hot in your veins. “What-fucking-ever, grandpa.”

Ben’s teeth clicked and grinded together. It took everything he had within him not to toss you. 

“You really wanna fucking get it, don’t you?”

“Suck my dick. How about that?” you sassed back, unfazed by his warning. 

Ben bulldozed through the double doors with a swift kick that shook them on their hinges. The bickering continued long after you two exited the building. 

Hughie just stared, mouth gaping, while M.M. crossed his arms. 

“That is some volatile shit,” Hughie remarked. 

M.M. scoffed, with a subtle shake of his head. 

“Nah, man,” he said ruefully. “That’s true motherfuckin’ love.”

Meanwhile, in the car, Ben drove home to Scarsdale. You simmered in the passenger seat. He glanced at you.

“Are you gonna be a hissy bitch all night?” he asked. You glowered at him.

“You’re the fucking grouch,” you shot back. In times like these, you liked to fantasize. Sometimes you wished you could rip out his spine and play Jenga with the vertebrae.  

“And you’re the one who nearly got yourself killed,” he retorted.

You took issue with this, your brows raising high.

“Excuse me? You’re really blaming me for what happened with Sapphire? You were ready to take out my friend for making an honest mistake.”

His gaze briefly left the road, turning to you in frustration. He didn't understand how you couldn't get it through your thick skull. You had been one shaky step shy of being fucking vaporized today.

No blood. No body. Just...nothing.

“Case in point, you’re the best in Surveillance," he said gruffly. "You don’t need to be in the field."

His compliment stopped you, warming you a little, but he was missing the point.

“I go where I’m needed, just like you,” you said. “You don’t get to tell me how, when, or where to do my job.”

Needless to say, it was tense for the rest of the way home.

Ben helped you inside, after which, you were determined to get to the bedroom by yourself. He watched you hop away from him with a frustrated shake of his head.

He sighed and started to peel off his gloves and untie his boots…but instead of leaving them by the door, like he usually would, he kept walking until he made it to the bedroom he shared with you. He sat on the edge of the bed and took his boots off there.

He watched you ignore him as you closed yourself into the bathroom.

You came out of the shower a little while later. Your hair was damp, but unwashed as you hadn’t been able to stand there for very long. The wrap on your ankle had gotten wet, so you grabbed the spare one that the paramedic had given you.

Ben didn’t look at you as he took his turn heading into the bathroom. After the door shut, your shoulders slumped with a sigh.

You tried to put on some shorts, but you quickly gave up and instead put on an overlarge shirt over your underwear. You remembered then that this shirt was an old one of Ben’s, and now a favorite of yours, because it still smelled like that earthy mix of his cologne and aftershave.

Frowning, you sucked in a deep breath. And you made a decision.

By the time Ben came back out with a towel wrapped around his hips, he found you still in the bedroom. Except you were packing a suitcase—the same one he’d brought to the safe house he’d shared with you for a month.

You were stuffing clothes into it from your side of the dresser. Something churned uncomfortably in his stomach, and he approached you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded to know.

You glanced up at him, but continued packing.

“Well, you made yourself very clear this morning that we’re just roommates. So I’m going to the guest room.”

“All right, don’t get all fucking hormonal,” he said, reaching out with a hand to stop you. You snatched your hand away from him. His brows raised in disbelief.

When you tried to get past him on the way to your closet, he held fast to your arm. With an angry frown, he then grabbed your suitcase and spilled it over onto the bed. You didn’t need a fucking suitcase to move one room over. Not that he planned to let you go any-damn-where.

“Enough,” he said sharply.

You met his intense stare with your own, but your eyes were shining and red. In that moment, you both stilled. The silence was palpable. For you, it was heartbreaking.

“I can’t do this anymore, Ben,” you confessed. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall just yet. “I put my all into this, and I just…I can’t be with someone who won’t be honest with me.”

You started to grab your suitcase again, along with your discarded clothes. Ben stopped you. 

“I said enough,” he snapped. 

You then threw the heap of clothes to the floor, suitcase and all.

“Why?” you tearfully retorted. “Why should I listen to you?” 

His deep green eyes searched yours. For what, you didn’t know.

Eventually, you started to see through the cracks of his anger.

“Because I fucking love you,” he said. 

You blinked up at him, with hope stuck in your throat. But you were stubborn in your denial.

“You’re just saying that to get me off your back,” you argued. “Either you’ve just gotten used to having me around, or you just don’t feel like being alone. But you don’t really care about me.”

You knew you were saying words you didn’t mean.

You knew that wasn’t true…but you couldn’t help it.

You were more upset than angry now, seconds away from dissolving into pitiful tears. You were just stubborn enough to hold them at bay.

“Just shut up for one goddamn second,” Ben said. He held you by your shoulders, though his hands soon moved down to grip your arms. It wasn’t a painful hold, but it was firm, and quite possibly pleading.

Despite your better judgment, you gave him time to speak.

“You really think I’d stay here in this shithole if I didn’t want you?” he asked. “If I didn’t care about you?”

You unconsciously held your breath. For a long moment, he hesitated to continue.

Again, you waited for him.

Meanwhile, Ben knew he was being a coward. He’d been holding back. Not because he wasn’t serious about you, but because he’d been burned before. 

He knew he’d spent his life being a fucking bastard, in most ways. He knew he’d been wrong, and hadn’t given two shits about it. But Crimson Countess…Tess…he’d been willing to settle down with her. He’d actually told her he loved her and hadn’t been totally lying through his teeth. 

Yeah, he’d fucked around. Flirted with other women in front of her. He knew he was a hypocrite. Still, in whatever way he could at the time, he thought he’d loved her. 

And she’d lied to him. She’d gone through the motions of being with him. For fame or fear or whatever her reasons had been, she went along with it. And then she’d sold him out, along with the rest of their team. 

For nothing. Just to get him the fuck out of her life—out of the world. 

So what was he supposed to do with you? Just let you walk the fuck in, give you the deepest parts of him? A dark fucking space that he’d never given to anyone.

Well, he knew now if he didn’t, you were going to leave. But he wasn’t willing to let go either.

So…he relented. For once in his life, he told the truth.

“I love you,” Ben admitted. “In my whole damn life…I think you’re the only one who’s made me feel it for real.” 

Tears finally slipped down your cheeks. You reached out and grasped his wrist, mostly for stability as you took in his words. He took that hand, held it to his warm chest. Always warm. 

“But one day, I’m still going to fucking lose you,” he said, looking down on you. “Then I’ll be right back where I started.”

Alone. 

You looked up at him with a sad, rueful smile. 

“Not exactly where you started,” you replied. He wasn’t the same man you met last year. You pressed your free hand to his cheek.

“Taking Compound V doesn’t guarantee I’ll come out like you, with a longer lifespan.”

“It’s something the CIA can work on,” Ben said. 

“You want Dr. Baker to experiment on me?” you asked, quirking a brow. The CIA had recruited her, ironically enough.

Ben closed his eyes for a second, letting out a slight huff. “That’s not what I’m fucking saying.”

You nodded and soothed your fingers through his hair. 

“Okay, we’ll have that conversation. I promise.” Then you smiled. “But let me just have this moment…my boyfriend loves me.”

You looked into his eyes and you knew he meant it. His hands moved to your waist, around to the small of your back. You clung to his shoulders and shifted off your aching ankle with a wince. Ben noticed, and he raised you up to him. It had the added benefit of letting you reach his face easier.

He guided you into a searing kiss. You responded in kind, delving into his hair again and opening your mouth to his demanding tongue. With the tips of your toes, you pushed up from the ground and he helped you wrap your legs around his waist.

The towel he wore was starting to slip, and you shoved it the rest of the way off with your foot, until he stood in the center of the bedroom in all his glory. 

He smirked into your lips and walked you to the bed. But before he could lay you down, you broke the kiss and held his face.

“You really love me?” you asked, just to make sure. It was the part of you, perhaps still scarred deep down, that had to ask.

Ben chuckled. He rested his forehead against yours. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget it.”

You grinned, and you kissed him this time, only breaking when he lowered down to the bed. Once your back met the plush mattress, all bets were off. He wrenched your shirt up over your head, and you reached for him again.

Your lips drew a hot, wet path from his jawline to his neck, biting and sucking all along the way to that sensitive spot between his neck and shoulder. His hand clenched in your hair, a deep sound caught in his throat when he felt the sharp sting of your teeth, playfully biting, then soothing with your tongue.

Your nails bit into his skin, but merely felt like teasing down his back, making a shiver trill along his spine. He all but pressed you into the mattress as he made his own descent.

Your fingers trailed up and into his hair while his mouth worked its way down between your breasts, stopping to lavish attention on each one. You made sounds of pleasure when he took a hardened nipple between his lips, between his teeth, dragging deliciously over your skin.

Your thighs wrapped around his hips again, He bucked teasingly into your clothed core, making you moan when you felt his wet tip dampening your panties.

“Ben…”

His lips curved, but he didn’t answer you. His fingers were pressing into the flesh of your thigh as he continued to tease your breasts. You’d felt how hard he was already and frankly, you were surprised he was taking his time.

“Listen,” you panted in his ear. “You’ve gotta wrap it up this time. Do we even have condoms?”

You knew for a fact that Ben didn’t buy them. 

But his brows furrowed. His mouth left your breast as he looked up at you.

“What?”

“I haven’t replaced my IUD yet,” you confessed. Its five-year lifespan had been up, and so you’d gotten the birth control device removed a few days ago.

Now, you watched in amusement at the way his lips curved into a pleased grin.

“No, don’t you even think about it,” you warned. Though you almost laughed at how excited he looked. “We’re not ready for that.”

“Why fucking not?” Ben asked. His pressed his length against your core more insistently. The idea of fucking you raw, spilling into you, putting his seed deep inside you without resistance, had his cock throbbing with anticipation.

“Ben!” You had to laugh. You two hadn’t even been living together that long, and you had just gotten on the same page after six months of trying to figure out what you were together.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want kids,” he said. And he began to ply you with tantalizing kisses along the column of your throat, down your neck, the scraping of teeth making you shudder in delight.

“I do,” you could admit. “But is right now really the best ti—”

He choked a moan out of you as his fingers pushed your underwear aside and spread your folds, then delved right in. Your core pulsed, hot and wet as his thick digits sunk deep inside you.

“God,” you uttered, gripping his hair tight. He stretched and explored your inner channel with two fingers, while his thumb found your clit with ease.

“When then?” he asked. But his hand was unrelenting, working you over until your toes curled and the coil in your lower belly began to tighten. You looked up at him helplessly.   

“Can we talk about this later?” you keened. Ben smirked and suddenly withdrew his fingers from your dripping pussy. He snatched your underwear, ripping them down the middle and making you gasp.

“No time like the fucking present,” he insisted. He lined himself up to your entrance, but you stopped him with a warning look. You knew if you let him inside you now, he was going to try and get his way.

“Ben,” you warned.

He sighed and let you stop him, but then his teasing edge faded.

Ben pressed a hand to your cheek. When he leaned down to kiss you, you felt the need and wanting behind it. 

He pulled away to meet your eyes. You softened looking up into his, because you understood what he wanted.

“We have time, baby,” you promised, stroking his chin. “We’ll have a family…just give us some time.”

He was disappointed…but he nodded. Sighing again through his nose, he clenched a hand into the now tangled mess of your hair.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you’re fucking mine.”

Your eyes widened. In all of this, you’d forgotten to be honest yourself. 

“Of course I’m yours,” you said. “I love you, Ben. So much, I can hardly take it.” 

He closed his eyes with furrowed brows. It had been a very long time since he’d heard those words. Maybe the first time someone had said them with any real sincerity, besides his mother. 

You encouraged him to look at you, both with your voice and your hand gently touching his face. And when he opened his eyes, you marveled at the depths there. 

Smiling, you guided him back to your lips. It was slow and sweet…until it wasn’t, deepening in passion and urgency again. Need burned inside you, so deep and strong that you couldn't take it anymore.

You slipped a hand between you to grasp his still hard cock. You caressed him a few times, letting your thumb circle around the sensitive head. Ben couldn’t help thrusting into your hand, releasing a grunt. His eyes briefly closed again as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his neck, down his chest.

“I need you,” you whispered against his skin. Ben nodded while you held his length poised at your entrance. He raised your hips, tucking your ankles over shoulders. For your injured one, he rubbed your calf.

“What a fuckin’ trooper,” he said with a smirk.

You smiled, but it soon fell into a moan as he began to push inside you. Every time, he stretched and filled you completely. Your inner walls wrapped around him and already fluttered with heat.

“Fuck, baby doll. Got me tight as a damn glove,” Ben remarked. You had to giggle, but that just squeezed him harder. When he began to move, it was all you could do to cling to his shoulders.

As basic as the position was, you liked being able to see his face. You knew when to spur him on, and when to just hold on for dear fucking life. But above all, he was a skilled man, and you enjoyed watching him work.

You were so consumed by it that when he came, it took both of you by surprise. He spilled into you hot and deep, but he still filled you with ragged thrusts, which hit that special place inside that made your entire body shudder with pleasure. You couldn’t help but come apart with him.

Your nails bit fruitlessly into his skin as your voice rose on a high moan. The two of you panted for breath, and he pulled out and let down your legs back to the bed. Once you felt the telltale dripping of his release slipping down from between your legs, your eyes widened. 

Oh shit, you thought. “We forgot the condom.”

Ben stared down at you, first in confusion, then in surprise. And finally, with a broad, Cheshire-like grin.

You laid a hand over your eyes as you relaxed into the pillow behind your head, trying not to laugh.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you said.

“We? I was following your lead,” Ben said. He moved to lay beside you in full satisfaction, folding his hands over his chest. He looked like the cat that caught the horny-ass canary.

"Haven't you heard of, oh, I don't know, pulling out?" you quipped. Ben rose a brow at you, still with that smug look on his face.

"Not my philosophy, sweetheart," he said.

Your mouth dropped open incredulously. Your gaze narrowed, but looking into his gleaming eyes, you really just had to laugh. His smile grew.

Ugh. Whatever, you thought. For now, you closed your legs and moved over to rest your head on his shoulder. He welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

What’re the chances that I’m ovulating anyway? you thought.

After a beat, you huffed another laugh. With your luck, you’d definitely have to stop at a drugstore for a pregnancy test.

And yet, in times like these, you were happy that you caved when Ben insisted on installing a TV in the bedroom. After you both got cleaned up, it was nice to fall into bed like you used to and find something new to watch together.

There were so many things you wanted him to catch up on, and he was generally game for whatever you thought he might like.

Three episodes of The Office later though, you stopped laughing so much and fell into your thoughts. Ben noticed, tugging on a loose strand of your hair.

“What’s the matter?”

“You really think our apartment is a shithole?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I might’ve embellished.”

“Seriously. If you’re not comfortable here—”

“I’m comfortable,” he said, turning his gaze to you. “Why’re you asking me that now?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I just want you to be happy here. I want this to feel like home for both of us, but not like, boring either.” 

He smirked. “Hence the caravan of whores and blow.” 

You shook your head with a laugh. But he still saw you trying to stem off that worry. That all this wasn’t enough for him. 

Well, Ben could complain about being cramped in this three-bedroom apartment…but he knew that when he came home, he wouldn’t be alone. 

He’d be able to see your stuff on the nightstand, by your side of the bed, your half of the closet, your sweet-smelling soaps and lotions in the bathroom. All of that was familiar to him now. 

It was home, he supposed. And so were you.

The beginnings of a softer smile curved his lips, but he edged it into a smirk.  

“You’ve got something they don’t,” he said. 

“What’s that?” you asked, raising a brow. 

“You try the ever-living fuck out of my patience,” he said, “unlike anyone on the planet.” 

With a giggle, you rolled over onto his arm and chest, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Buuut…?” 

He conceded with a nod, if also a roll of his eyes. His arm lifted to once again slip around your waist.

“But no matter how fucked up it got, you stayed.”

With me, his tone implied.

“That’s more than anyone else in my goddamn life,” he said.

And that made you tear up all over again.

“So you’re staying,” you clarified, only half-teasing.

It reminded you of when you’d sat tied to a chair, wondering why the hell Soldier Boy would want to let you live. You could’ve never known it then, but you’d stared straight into the face of your future.

You didn’t know if Ben was remembering the same thing, but he smiled a little, brushing away your tears with his thumb.

“I’m staying,” he replied. Your smile brightened, and you leaned up for a kiss.

“Then we’re square,” you whispered against his lips. 

He chuckled and deepened the kiss. He turned off the TV, chucking the remote further down the bed and turned to trap you beneath him again.

“Nope.” You finished wiping your eyes and pushed against his chest. “You’re not finessing me twice. Go find a damn condom.”

He gave you a grumpy look. “Fucking killjoy.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed. You reached up and took his face in your hands.

“I promised, didn’t I?” you reminded. “We’ll get there.”

His gaze searched yours.

“Soon, not someday,” he said. You nodded, soothing your thumb across his cheek.

“Soon,” you agreed. And you reminded him, even as your throat constricted once more with emotion. “Ben, I love you…God, I love you. And I’ve never wanted this with anyone but you.”

Ben paused, but after a moment, he nodded in acceptance. You were grateful for it. Even though you weren’t quite ready yet, he wasn’t the only one who wanted a family.

While your fractured past and upbringing made it hard for you to move past your fears, your insecurities, you knew that this man made you feel safe.

For the first time in your life, you also felt whole.

Soon enough, you’d be brave too.

AN: That's all, folks. Been a great ride...

Ha! Just kidding. I'm nowhere near done with these two, even with this long-ass epilogue lol.

But honestly, no matter what part of the journey you jumped into with this story, thank you so much for sticking with me until the end. It's truly been one of my favorite stories ever to write. And I'm so glad I got the chance to share it with you. 🥹💚🥹

Next Time:

Ready for Part 2 (of 3) of "Love Actually"?

(AKA: Ben is forced to attend Christmas dinner to meet his girlfriend's whole family.)

Here's a sneak peek:

“Hey. What’s taking so damn long?” he asked. His brows were furrowed, mouth set in an aggravated frown. “I already told you. I’m not planning on being at this thing all night. So if you don’t come down here in the next ten minutes, I swear to fucking Christ—” 

Ben stopped short, as he heard your footsteps at the top of the stairs. When he looked up with expectant, pursed lips, his face subtly froze. 

“What? What’re you gonna do?” you teased. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you grasped the guardrail and carefully made your way down the stairs. These heels were no joke...

😂 Until then, let me know what you thought of the BMD finale! 💚💚

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

#The Epilogue #the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 18 #zepskies writes

[aintinacage]

endless will turner - part 18

#endless will turner #will turner #william turner #orlando bloom #part 18 #johnny depp #jack sparrow #captain jack sparrow #curse of the black pearl #cotbp #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the Caribbean 1 #pirates of the Caribbean curse of the black pearl #potc #potc 1 #potc curse of the black pearl #potc cotbp

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

Sorry for vanishing!! I sort of got stuck on this part and couldn’t figure out where to go, so I’ve had to be working on it off and on. (>.<)” and I’m still not sure how I feel about this soooo. (TT^TT)

We’re very close now!! (>.<) to the end, I mean, how we feeling about that guys? I’m nervous hahahaha.

@hobiesgender @hadesdaughter2002 @lirulua

Masterlist

Fighting the Spot with everyone was…an experience.

Mostly because it was weird working…with Miguel instead of against him. Miguel threw him at the Spot (gently, sort of in the same manner he threw Gwen and Pavitr several moments later), Jess let him jump off the back of her bike to coordinate attacks with the other Spiders, and it gave Miles some sort of whiplash because these people had been after him for ages, it felt like; now, suddenly, it was like there was a much bigger problem they should’ve been focusing on since the beginning and all of a sudden they were willing to work together.

Like he’d said before, but Y’know. Whatever.

The police barricade was getting pushed further back every minute during the fight, the Spiders working together to keep them all safe and secured (ok, so it was mainly Hobie, and Pavitr, and Gwen, and the original anomalies into Miles’s universe that were focused on keeping the police safe but regardless) while the fight raged on. Miles felt out of breath and exhausted, his entire body screaming in an agonized cacophony of injured ribs, sprained ligaments, deep bruises and rapid onset rut symptoms that just wouldn’t abate.

By the time Margo managed, with an entire team of technical-savvy Spiders and LAYLA, to capture the Spot in an upgraded version of one of her containment devices, Miles felt dead on his feet. He was crouching on the twenty-second floor of a (highly) destroyed building, Hobie hovering just behind him and Gwen at his right. The three of them stared down as the Spot threw portal after portal onto the barrier, only to end up right back inside it without going anywhere. He screamed, furious, but all Miles could focus on was the fact that the entire ordeal was finally over.

He fell back onto the floor of the damaged building, listening faintly as Miguel ordered clean up of the destroyed New York. Hobie dropped down behind him, and Miles shuffled until he was able to put his head in the other teen’s lap. Hobie didn’t even seem surprised, just started playing with his hair casually after Miles took off his mask. Miles felt his body relax fully, even with Gwen sitting down next to him and settling in as well. They sat together for a moment, savoring the silence between them while the other Spiders rushed to follow Miguel’s orders.

“Hey, Miles?” Gwen said softly, and Miles hummed at her in response. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, long enough that Miles opened his eyes to peer up at her; she was messing with the hood of her uniform, twisting it gently through her fingers as she stared down at the ground, her mask lifted enough to see her face though the hood stayed on. The police were beginning to make their way through the damaged area, radios going off as they spread out and began helping on their own. “I…I’m really sorry. About how this turned out.” Hobie shifted underneath Miles, enough to make him sit up again and actually pay attention to Gwen as she spoke. “I didn’t mean for this to go so wrong, I just…I just wanted you to stay safe.”

“And safe was not knowing?” Miles asked, and Gwen flinched despite the gentle tone. Granted, it might have been mostly because he was exhausted, and not just from the fight that had literally just ended — staying mad at Gwen and Peter B this entire time took more energy than Miles was usually willing to expend on something like this. “Not explaining…anything? You were really ok just having one more hang out and then just…never seeing me again? That was it?”

“No, that’s not…” Gwen let out a rough breath. “I didn’t want to not see you again, but my mission…”

“Was more important.” Miles offered flatly, and Gwen ran her hand through her hair in frustration.

“No!” She said loudly, and Miles snapped back on instinct; his body was aching something fierce, and he was beyond exhausted, but he could still feel the dredges of his unexpected rut in the back of his mind. Hobie made a noise that calmed Miles, though Gwen looked abashed. “No, that’s not what I meant. I did miss you, Miles, and I did want to see you again, I was just — I was just scared.”

“Scared?”

“Look, things haven’t been…easy, at home.” Gwen pulled her feet up, crossing her arms over her legs in a defensive position. “I was searched for by the police as Spider-Woman already, and then when Peter…my Peter, my best friend…”

“You don’t have to say it again.” Miles offered her, and Gwen let out a shaky sigh.

“Well, after.” She wiped at her face. “After everything, I tried to move on. I had a friend somewhere, a group of them even, but I was somehow just…more alone than I was before, and…my dad is police chief in my universe, and he was dedicated to hunting me down for Peter’s murder.” Miles felt himself frown at that, unable to muster up a better reaction in the moment, but Gwen wasn’t even looking at him. “And the rest of you guys…I didn’t have anyone at all. And when Miguel and Jess appeared, and I told my dad that I was Spider-Woman…”

“Gwen…”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” Gwen said shortly, closing her eyes tightly. Hobie reached out from behind Miles, pressing against the side of her neck where she’d tensed up a bit. She relaxed, and Miles couldn’t even find it in himself to be protective over that small touch; she looked defeated, and she needed some comfort. “It didn’t end…it went badly, revealing myself to my dad. So I…went with Jess and Miguel. Jess convinced him I’d be worth taking along with them, but…I couldn’t mess up. Not a lot of room for error when you’re trying to save the multiverse I guess.”

She let out a weak chuckle that sounded upset, and Miles whined softly at her.

“It was fine but I felt like I was walking a different sort of tightrope.” She said. “One mistake too many, one mistake too big, and I was sent home, where I had no one and nothing but Spider-Woman.” Gwen took a shaky breath, opening her eyes to stare up at the sky. They looked glassy and Miles stretched his leg out so it bumped against her hip. A tear broke through at that, trailing down the dirt that had managed to get on her face through her mask. “I was…so tired, all the time. So scared of running away, so scared of going back.”

“You didn’t deserve that, Gwen.” Miles said softly, and another tear broke free. “I’m so sorry, Gwen. You shouldn’t have gone through that alone.” Gwen twisted suddenly, ducking down under Miles’s chin and burying herself into his suit. Miles wrapped his arms around her automatically, glancing behind him to give Hobie a panicked look. Hobie shrugged back at him, then scooted forward a little more so that he could wrap himself around them as well.

Miguel found them several hours later, still huddled together in a pile but fast asleep.

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #gwen stacy #a/b/o au #a/b/o dynamics #miguel o'hara #part 18

[eldritchqueerture]

ohhhhhh my god

#niki.rambles #malevolent liveblog #part 18

[locitapurplepink]

Disney Princess/Fairies Poll Results so far 18

I have so much fun making disney princess polls with you guys. Here's the list of winner from each poll posts that I've made

103. Favorite Princess Merida's dress (Light blue vs Dark green)

Merida's dark green dress

104. Favorite disney princess round 9 (Aurora vs Belle)

Princess Belle

105. Favorite disney princess round 10 (Ariel vs Mulan)

Mulan

106. Tangled the series/Rapunzel's tangled adventure better royal guard outfit look (Captain of the guard vs Cassandra vs Eugene vs Lance)

Eugene's royal guard outfit

107. Favorite Zarina's pirate outfit ( Dark blue jacket vs Black & Grey dress)

Zarina's black & grey dress

108. Favorite disney princess round 11 (Rapunzel vs Moana)

Princess Rapunzel

Note : there are more ideas to come so get ready, guys !

#disney poll results so far #part 18 #locitapurplepink #disney brave #beauty and the beast #disney mulan #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #disney fairies #tinkerbell and the pirate fairy #disney tangled #princess merida #princess belle #mulan #eugene fitzherbert #captain zarina #zarina #princess rapunzel #poll results