Welcome! I write fics for Eric Northman (True Blood), Diego Hargreeves (and others from The Umbrella Academy!), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer), Matt Murdock (Daredevil), Frank Castle (Punisher), Ward Meachum (Iron Fist), and Shades Alvarez (Luke Cage). But I do mess around with others! I mostly focus on one shots (although I do some headcanons).
Masterlist
Asks/Ideas
My fun stuff blog!
Not sure if my suuuuper long absence means I won’t show up on anyone’s feeds (fair!) but I’ve been toying with the idea of diving back into some fan fics. Only problem is, I have the interest of writing but can’t think of any characters or scenarios and I really have been terrible at keeping up with new, fun shows.
All that in mind...anyone have any ideas? Help me out and throw a request my way? lol
(But do so knowing I might not be able to follow through on that - please don’t be insulted, it’s just seasonal depression kicking my butt haha)
Hey! I don't really write for anyone atm. I started rewatching Daredevil so the oomph might come back though, but I don't want anyone to hold their breaths right now. I was really excited to see the influx of new readers though recently (we all know why but I'll keep it spoiler free). But yeah, my muse in general is quite dormant atm.
Sending all my love though, thank you for reaching out!
Hey!! I'm ok! Please don't worry, everything is hectic but good. I just have lost my oomph for fics and you know...all the fun stuff. Ok that sounds bad, I promise it's not bad just have been quiet and lurk around at most.
I hope you're doing well though!! Sending all my love out to everyone!
This is more for my benefit because for 1. I wanted to know if I could make a masterlist, and 2. because the tags don’t work on my computer or phone, and I want to keep everything in order. More will be added.
Benjamin Poindexter
imposter by @prince-septimus
Just Angles by @kilyra
Lost by @certifiedskywalker
Are You Bored Yet? by @certifiedskywalker
sweetness by @prince-septimus
too obvious by @prince-septimus
come to bed by @prince-septimus
coffeeshop character by @prince-septimus
Suicide Squad
Craigslist Thanksgiving by @frecklefaceb (Boomer)
untitled by @fearthespork (Rick)
taking control by @prince-septimus (Boomer)
Victor Zsasz (BOP)
Choose Where (series) by @cinebration
Orm Marius
Grumpy Gills by @spacetalbot
untitled by @super-marvel-dc
Roy Harper
prompt by @ragingbookdragon
prompt by @ragingbookdragon
Garfield Logan
Beast by @catxsnow
Batmom (sorry not sorry)
her cafe by @taiyakimmy
Your Mom Gave Us A Penthouse by @dragon-star-light
Don’t Tell Bruce (part 1) + Don’t Tell Bruce (part 2) by @dragon-star-light
Hey Mom! by @battymommastuff
Hard Eyes (series) by @uncpanda
Jason Todd
Where’s Your Suit? by @catxsnow
Flirting Gets You Nowhere by @catxsnow
Father of Mine (series) by @invisibleanonymousmonsters
midnight questions by @spvilers
Makeover madness by @peculiarpenman
needy Jason by @babyjordy
Vigilante Rest Stop by @robynundertheredhood
prompt by @ragingbookdragon
prompt by @ragingbookdragon
request by @terry-perry
Why Didn’t You Ask Me? by @coffee-latte-sprite
Rumor has it by @afterthenightprevails
whatever you don’t think about by @babyjordy
Jason Vibes by @babyjordy
couples workouts by @babyjordy
Assassin’s Creed
A Christmas Impersonation by @ragingbookdragon (Haytham)
Defense in His Stead by @ragingbookdragon (Connor)
All The Reassurance by @ragingbookdragon (Shay)
Lost and Found by @lunavadash-creates
Other
Sunshine by @calif0rnia-lovers (Jay Kulina)
Tips and Tricks by @shelby-love (Eddie Diaz)
Let’s Talk Christmas by @shelby-love (Lee Christmas)
pick up, please hold by @paperrretro (Dean Portman)
Kano request by @chadillacboseman
Interdict by @url-in-construction (Han Lue)
Embers (series) by @whatifxwereyou (Mortal Kombat)
Viktor Drogo
You Matter Most by @honeychicana
Protector by @honeychicana
In Recovery by @honeychicana
Evan Stafford (<3)
How to say “I Love You” by @zim-zam-goddamn
Three Little Hearts by @zim-zam-goddamn
Soft Sunshine Boi by @zim-zam-goddamn
Streamers
Livestreams by @shelsgovroomvroom (Corpse)
Cuddlebug by @silly-mouse (Sapnap)
Kisses on Stream (HC) by @cherios
Chaotic Dono’s (HC) by @cherios
poppies by @itsonlydana (Ghostbur)
Stole Their Hoodie by @punzobee (Punz)
Hopeless Romantic by @neptuneofthesky (Punz)
Coming Out request by @helliontherapscallion
(Y/N) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week (series) by @helliontherapscallion
just a little something, something for my main murdock friend, @kilyra after the amazing dd news we've had today. plus, all my matt works belong to her. it's just the rules.
matt murdock x reader
word count: 700 [told you it was little]
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Well, aren’t you a little devilish.”
Matt feels himself smiling before he realises he’s doing it, the corner of his mouth twisting up, pulling until he hears himself laugh. The weight of the day, sliding from his shoulders as he turns his face to you, bringing the beer to his lips.
Even if he had all the words in the world, he isn’t sure he could explain the way you make him feel. Starting innocently, two people who just passed by one another in the same building, sharing a lift here and there. A few good mornings and good evenings. And then again when he’d left to make the new firm—Nelson and Murdock—he didn't expect to find you drinking at Josie’s too.
A favourite, you'd said. You'd been coming here for years.
And then you drank with them all the time. Small conversations turning to longer ones until Karen came. Allowing him a chance to turn to face you, knees butting yours as he hears you laugh, and he's sure he short circuits. Just for a moment. A spark running through him each time you call him Murdock or you laugh.
He wonders, just when his mind is quiet, if you'll ever call him Matt.
Slowly in time, beers and pool, he found himself listening for you. The thrum of your heartbeat as you come through the door, the way you dance your fingernails against the glass bottle in your hand as you listen to him talk about his day. How you always listen, always. How you tease him, softly apologising at the end of the night in case you went too far.
Knowing you never could, and never did.
He knows you now, well enough so from the weeks of seeing you here. The lunches Foggy's invited you on, that working together would make a difference.
But you don't seem happy when Foggy asks. You ask for time, clamming up before changing the subject.
You flirt, he flirts back; you push him, he pushes a little back.
Matt thought it would work well. But then he wondered if it's the dancing. The two of you moving around one another, not realising you're dancing to the same song, and it'd be far easier to come together rather than dancing apart.
Something you both are doing. Something he wants to end.
He likes you.
He likes you so much he wants you and wants to protect you from him all at once. But only one part of him can win, and he's selfish, so damn selfish.
“If only you knew,” he says into your ear, hearing a slight intake.
He hopes it's enough, wondering if the reason you suddenly shift is because of the closeness or his words.
And then there’s an extra skip in your heartbeat. Noticeable to him, because he knows the way yours beats as the crack sound of a cue meeting pool balls.
He has to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself grinning, moving a little closer, happy the bar is so busy, so loud as he does so. Liking it even more that you don’t move away, don’t wish for more distance from him, instead, he senses your head turning up to face him.
“If I work for you—”
“With,” he interrupts. “If you work with me.”
You sigh. Barely audible to most, but he hears it pass your lips, head turning to avoid looking at him. Not that you know he knows any of this; not that you even realise what he does when he’s not in a bar with you.
Foggy calls out to you, and he wishes he could keep you beside him for a second or two longer as he feels you look at him once again, this time more intensely.
“I don’t want to work with you, Murdock.”
He snorts. “And why’s that?”
“Because,” you say, with a less than innocent tone as you place your bottle beside you, turning, your perfume fluttering past his nose, “I don’t think it’s professional to flirt with your colleague. Or have the sort of dreams I have about them. Especially ones involving you, and me.”
Whatever he’s expecting, it isn’t that.
His throat suddenly goes dry, his lips parting ever so slightly, as he hears your heels across the floor walking backwards, feeling your eyes gazing at him as you walk to the pool table until the last second.
He’s rooted.
Stuck.
And then he smiles, before he smirks, feeling his cheeks burn as he shakes his head and sips his beer, knowing full well—without vision—that you were watching him blush.
It taking all he had not to go over, and kiss you until you blushed too.
No Telling What I’d Do, With My Hands Stuck On You (I Know It’s Your Blood That I Bleed).
Written as a gift for my beautiful, incredible and talented best friend @kilyra, this one-shot was inspired by her Eric Northman arc which you could and absolutely should, read here. Whilst some details may differ, it’s definitely how I picture things panning out with Eric and the reader.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it as much as Kily did. Kily- thank you for being amazing as always and I love you immeasurable amounts 💕
Pairing: Eric Northman x F!Reader
Warnings: Smut
Eric was dangerous.
Of this supposed fact, you were quite aware. Granted, you’d also been warned several times by several different people.
This didn’t stop you, though.
Sure, he could be an asshole, blunt and unthinking sometimes, quick to speak before he thought. And yes, he had turned up in your house unannounced several times, creeping up behind you, his tall frame looming at your back. Oh, and you had also woken up to him watching you whilst you were sleeping, a smug grin adorning his beautiful face, those piercing blue eyes set at the very centre, fixing straight on you.
Look at what my amazing friend wrote, it’s so, so, so good! It literally is so good it’s inspiring me to get back and finish the arc she mentioned.
Seriously, who knew a Monday could be this good?!?!
@kilyra Firstly, I am LOVING the gif reaction LOL if you’re freaking out, then my job is most certainly done!
In all seriousness though, I’m beyond happy that you love it and it’s inspiring you to get back and finish the arc. Eeek! Yay! I mean that in a non-pressurised way of course haha. I got your back, girl. As it’s my first time posting smut, you know I was super daunted, but you’ve always given me the confidence to be brave and go for it, so thank you.
Hopefully it hits how I wanted it to and it feels like you can hear Eric speaking, among other things… maybe I should have put a cold shower warning after @somanyyumypeoplejustletmehave1’s comment!
Anyway, big hugs and love and thank you for being the most incredible friend, a rock to me and just the most beautiful person inside and out 💕
Please enjoy this beautiful and bloody gif of Eric below, especially now that you’re his…
I honestly can’t pick my favourite part about this. Like even the early part of the interaction where she’s just trying so hard to explain why he can’t just show up and he grabs the wrong point to hold on to. I can’t tell if he’s being a brat or just feels so superior that he can’t see her point - which means you captured his voice so beautifully well. And his mix between being a dom and then being a little vulnerable himself is just absolutely intoxicating.
Not sure I’ll ever be able to read this enough times!
No Telling What I’d Do, With My Hands Stuck On You (I Know It’s Your Blood That I Bleed).
Written as a gift for my beautiful, incredible and talented best friend @kilyra, this one-shot was inspired by her Eric Northman arc which you could and absolutely should, read here. Whilst some details may differ, it’s definitely how I picture things panning out with Eric and the reader.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it as much as Kily did. Kily- thank you for being amazing as always and I love you immeasurable amounts 💕
Pairing: Eric Northman x F!Reader
Warnings: Smut
Eric was dangerous.
Of this supposed fact, you were quite aware. Granted, you’d also been warned several times by several different people.
This didn’t stop you, though.
Sure, he could be an asshole, blunt and unthinking sometimes, quick to speak before he thought. And yes, he had turned up in your house unannounced several times, creeping up behind you, his tall frame looming at your back. Oh, and you had also woken up to him watching you whilst you were sleeping, a smug grin adorning his beautiful face, those piercing blue eyes set at the very centre, fixing straight on you.
Look at what my amazing friend wrote, it’s so, so, so good! It literally is so good it’s inspiring me to get back and finish the arc she mentioned.
Seriously, who knew a Monday could be this good?!?!
Diego Hargreeves x Fem!Reader
Words: 1.5k
AN: Set with a S1 Diego but not S1 or S2 storyline. For a friend, you know who you are.
He didn’t need to look up when the door goes, he knows it’s you. Because when it rains, it pours.
Diego wonders if he should be more upset about his father, rather than being upset he’s had to see the others. Only for him to take his frustration out on you, consciously or not.
The fact you allow the door to meet the frame with such a loud thud is enough of a signal to him that you’re pissed.
Diego takes a second, thinking of his next steps as he swipes his tongue over his teeth, staring at the punching bag, as if it’s going to provide any answers on what he should do. How he could get out of this. Because if he plays this wrong, which he will, it’s going to spiral. Becoming so much worse than it already is.
A whole lot fucking worse.
And it’s already bad.
Hitting the bag once, twice and then thrice, he pays attention to your footsteps nearing. Not turning, not needing to see if your arms are folded, lips pursed and giving him one of you signature dead expressions. He knows you will be, because Diego fucking knows you and you know him.
And he hates it.
He despises that you know about his tick. About his family. About his upbringing, talent and everything else in between. He hates that you suggested calling off the meal before he did, and he hates himself for agreeing to go even if he knew he wouldn’t attend.
Because he’s decided he hates being happy.
He likes being miserable, likes fighting petty crime without anyone to come home to.
“Asshole.”
Rolling his head, he casts his eyes over you. Finding you exactly as he’s imagined. The only—slight—difference is the look in your eyes.
Sadness. A look which doesn’t suit you. One which stands out to him, because he’s seen it so rarely.
It swirls in your eyes, mixing with your usual shade, darkening them as they pin him to his spot. Or try to.
Letting his hands fall to his sides, he lets out a sigh before he can help himself. And the glare you send him is enough to force him to turn to face you.
When it comes to you, he isn’t sure if he hates how close you are to him physically or metaphorically; not sure if he dislikes it more that he wants to kiss you or let you love him.
“Hello to you too.”
Your lips twitch into a smirk. “You don’t deserve a hello.”
“Touché.”
“Surprised you know that word.”
“Under all this, I’m clever y’know?”
“Are you?” you snap, and you roll your lips together.
Those painted plump lips that’s kissed every inch of him. That he’s woke up dreaming about and gone to sleep pressed against.
“You’re angry—“
“Oh, I’m past angry, Hargreeves,” you says, tapping your foot on the gym floor. “I was angry when I was on my second glass, wondering where you were. I was fuming when I left, embarrassed and ready to hunt you down. Now, now I’m almost murderous.”
He hasn’t been called his surname in sometime. Hasn’t found himself in hot waters, with you at least, in sometime. Even angry, he feels your eyes rake down his frame, following a bead of sweat which falls from his neck down his chest and stomach.
Pulling the gloves undone with his teeth, snaps your eyes back up. And he finds himself smirking at you and his own foolishness simultaneously.
Because deep down he’s known this day would come, where you—like most—tired of him. Finding yourself irritated with his ways, of his selfishness and his impulsiveness.
“Let me have it then.”
He throws the gloves to the floor, shifting his weight as he notices the slight narrowing of your eyes. The way your lips twitch, whether a smirk or a smile, he can’t be sure. Usually, there’s less talking when you’re like this; usually you’re already pinned under him or against something. Now, you don’t even look at him like you’d welcome that.
Diego hates you for that too.
Despises that you have gotten under his skin, throwing him off his game. He’s dated. Well, since Patch they’ve not been constant. Real or permanent.
But you, you got to him. He still doesn’t even know how.
You don’t bend as easily, don’t surrender as you should. You fight him, sometimes tooth and fucking nail, and fuck, he doesn’t hate that about you. He loves that. He loves it when you steal the wind from his sail; when you cut him down. You don’t pander to him, you call him out, and he needs that even if he can’t admit it.
He even doesn’t mind that you sooth the insecurity, recognising when enough is enough. Halting anything before it goes too far, leaves too many wounds. You make him want to try to be a little better, even if he fails most days.
“No.”
“No?”
You snort. “No. Because if I rip you a new one, you’ll find some way to say sorry. And, then you’ll kiss me, and I’ll melt, and then you will forget that you’re an asshole.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”
Your jaw tenses, almost impossibly so. “For someone in your position, you have a lot of snark.”
“Be careful, you may hurt my feelings.”
Nodding, your lips twist before straightening to an unreadable expression again. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m done.”
His muscles relax.
And his heart stops.
Yet Diego is somehow, not as surprised as he should have been.
Even if he looks at you, staring at your eyes and hoping to see a tease, a jest. He looks hoping you will change your mind, that he hasn’t successfully pushed another person away.
“Took you long en—“
“Im done talking,” you continue, cutting him off. Taking closer steps, slow ones, full of purpose as you dig your eyes into him. “I’m not gonna ask you to do right by me, I’m not gonna ask for an explanation why you decided to stand me up tonight. Hey, you don’t even have to talk to me.”
His forehead creases, flicking his eyes from your eyes to your mouth.
“Because I know why. You want me without the commitment, without the expectations of being a good person. You want a hole to fuck, so here I am, Hargreeves. You’ve got one.”
Fuck.
He stifles a sigh, especially as your finger press into his chest, nail digging down into the skin as you roll your lips and then he has to focus on not groaning. Especially when you bat your eyes lashes and smirk so condescendingly he wonders if you’ve been sent to test him.
“You want to pretend you don’t crave normal, that you don’t deserve it,” you continue, looking up at him, “I’ll play pretend. Hey, I’ll become the best damn actor in your movie you’ll ever know. But, I’m done talking.”
You place your other hand on his, moving his to your hip as you smirk.
“So, lights camera action, baby. Where do you wanna fuck me first?”
He feels your lips ghost over his. His hand clenching around your hip. Everything inside of him telling to just go with it, to not talk, to not burst open in front of you.
To kiss you.
To throw you down on the mats and not talk for hours.
“I-I’m s-sorry.”
“No. No you’re not,” you says, full of sadness, your expression not changing to match your tone. “If you were, you’d have come to dinner. You’d have stabbed your fork into the salad before I’d have told you I want street food.”
You didn’t move, and neither does he. Your hand spreading over his chest, his hand still on your hip.
“You don’t let yourself enjoy anything, because what? Your dad was an asshole and your brother went to the moon?” You ask, head tilted. “Diego, I don’t give a shit if you’re number two, you’re number one for me. But you have to try. You have to try at least ten percent otherwise it’s just me, forcing you to be with me.”
He never feels forced. Not with you.
You’re sometimes the only thing which is good. Which isn’t fucked, tainted or ruined. You’re good, if not a bit too sweary and a bit too good at drinking. But, you’re… nice, and unwilling to let him settle.
“You’re m-my number o-one too.”
“Cool.”
“I mean i-it.”
“Nice.”
“Baby, c'mon?”
You sigh. “What, Diego?”
Diego. He’s Diego again.
He doesn’t smile, even if he wants too.
He doesn’t kiss you, even if he’s fighting every part of himself.
He just stares, using his other hand to cup your cheek. “I am sorry.”
“Salad at a fancy place too good for you?”
He smirked. “Yeah, kinda.”
“Good. Because it’s too fancy for me too.”
“So why we’re we even fucking going, baby?”
“Because,” you say, defiance in your tone, “it’s what normal people do. They don’t meet over a bad game of darts and several beers, and fuck on a boxing ring. They don’t fight a literal mugger with trained assassin-level knife skills a month after beginning to sleep together.”
Your shoulders sink, your expression softening. “They date, at restaurants who charge too much and hold hands across parks. And for a second, one tiny fucking moment, I wanted that for you. I wanted normal, meet-cute type romance before we grabbed whatever was in a cart and we fucked on my new sideboard.”
His thumb brushed over your cheek. “I’d have liked that.”
“You’d have loved that. But—“
“I’m sorry,” he says again, softer, more meaningful, “I’m s-s-sorry. I really am.”
“I’m still mad.”
“That’s okay.”
“You owe me a fancy salad.”
Smirking, he nods. “Baby, I’ll give you a salad bar if you want it.”
“I don’t like salad.”
“No?”
“No.”
Smirking, he cups your cheek with more purpose. “What do you want then, baby?”
I have it on good authority (y’know...the actual author haha) that this was written with me in mind based on a convo we had. Talk about making my day, I appreciate it so much! And manalive do I miss my Diego...time to dive into that rabbit hole again haha
Everyone, do yourself a favour and check this out it’s an awesome read!
Awwwww thank you so much!! It's been a bit of a tough time (and has brought all my writing to a complete stand still unfortunately). So I appreciate the smile - you are such a lovely, lovely person 💗💗💗
Omg I’m so excited! You guys, if you’re looking for a wonderful writer who also enjoys the Marvel Netflix crew and beyond, please, please check her out.
If I had no idea the power of my beacons haha
A/N: It’s been quite a while since I wrote last, so it’ll be a bit rusty but I couldn’t let this idea go. And when I tried to figure out which character to write it for, I saw a gif of Oscar Isaac and here we are.
Being a diplomat for the Resistance kept you away from home most of the time while you moved between assignments that often had you working directly with the front line. Which is where you met Poe. Your relationship blossomed quickly, both more enamoured than you had ever been before. But the only problem was, you’re married.
Warnings: Cheating and angst. No spoilers.
If you want to be on my tag lists, (all or just a character) just let me know!
You had only made it a few steps into the cantina when your attention was pulled to one of the tables on the far side, settling on Poe as if guided by the Force itself. He had been mid-drink when his gaze snapped to yours like he just knew you had just entered the room. Everything inside you froze so fast that even your normally confident stride had stuttered.
He was just how you remembered him – soft black curls gently brushing over his forehead, faint scruff sweeping over his chiselled jawline, and those eyes. Oh, those eyes. Dark pools of passion that always drew you in, even if he was just shooting you a casual smile.
Thank you so much for the badly needed love. After getting all geared up to write a few fics, we ran into some bad times at my house. I thought we were going to have to put one of our cats to sleep, but the vet thinks he can recover so now I'm running ragged with this med regiment (the worst part is just a 10 day thing for an infection and after that, it's manageable) and very little sleep.
I still have my little story blurb ideas running around in my head but the time and energy are lacking (to put in nicely haha)
This too shall pass.
A/N: It’s been quite a while since I wrote last, so it’ll be a bit rusty but I couldn’t let this idea go. And when I tried to figure out which character to write it for, I saw a gif of Oscar Isaac and here we are.
Being a diplomat for the Resistance kept you away from home most of the time while you moved between assignments that often had you working directly with the front line. Which is where you met Poe. Your relationship blossomed quickly, both more enamoured than you had ever been before. But the only problem was, you’re married.
Warnings: Cheating and angst. No spoilers.
If you want to be on my tag lists, (all or just a character) just let me know!
You had only made it a few steps into the cantina when your attention was pulled to one of the tables on the far side, settling on Poe as if guided by the Force itself. He had been mid-drink when his gaze snapped to yours like he just knew you had just entered the room. Everything inside you froze so fast that even your normally confident stride had stuttered.
He was just how you remembered him – soft black curls gently brushing over his forehead, faint scruff sweeping over his chiselled jawline, and those eyes. Oh, those eyes. Dark pools of passion that always drew you in, even if he was just shooting you a casual smile.
It was a kick in the gut.
Everything came surging to the surface so fast it was overwhelming. The awkward moments, lingering looks, shy conversations in the hall after a debrief...but it didn't stop there. It couldn't. There was a magnetism between you both that you couldn't deny and while you knew you shouldn't, that you had a family back home, things progressed. It was too powerful to stop. His lips crashing into yours, the desperation as your clothes fell away, his warm skin under your fingertips as your legs wrapped around his hips, never feeling close enough even when he was deep inside. Images of his limbs tangled with yours, both covered in a sheen of sweat, slowly fell away as the harder memories replaced it.
"Stop? I don't understand." Poe's eyebrows knit together as the confusion drifted over his face. There was another expression too, a little harder to place. Panic, maybe?
Wringing your hands together, you couldn't hold his gaze. Everything inside you was trembling – it was the hardest thing you've ever had to do. Looking down at your fingers, you ran one of your thumbnails under the other, suddenly focused on making sure your nails were clean. You couldn't bring yourself to look back up at him, and you definitely couldn't bring yourself to answer.
“It's him, isn't it?”
Finally, you snapped your head up, letting out a short scoff. “My husband? Yeah.”
Coming closer, Poe pulled out the chair across from you at the little table in your quarters. Smoothly sitting, he reached for your hands, stopping just shy of grabbing them. "Leave him."
You thought you had already cried yourself dry, but your eyes were lined with tears again that you desperately tried to blink away. With all your heart, you wanted to, and it stabbed at you as you clamped down on that feeling. "In times of great stress, we sometimes find ourselves in situations...doing things...that we wouldn't normal-"
Abruptly standing, the chair scraped the floor as it was roughly pushed back. Pacing away from you, he raked his fingers through his hair before turning back, spreading his hands apart. "Don't give me that, Y/n. This wasn't some response to stress, you and I both know that. There's something here. Something real. I've felt it since I first laid eyes on you and I know you feel it too.”
Rubbing your knuckles against your eyes, you squashed the tears away, sniffling softly. "I'm not leaving my kids."
Giving you a hard stare, he quickly settled back into the chair, grabbing your free hand. "Bring them. I'm great with kids."
Blankly, you watched him as he offered an unsure half-smile. You had never seen him with children, but something told you that wasn't true.
Shrugging, he continued. "I mean, they're just like little people, right? I'm great with people."
You wanted to laugh, but your small surge of emotion just made your eyes grow wetter. Pulling your hand from his, you brushed away the fresh tears. His face fell as he watched you try to stay composed. Finally, he sighed. "We can make it work."
A sob wanted to rip free, and it was all you could do to hold it back, forcing it to turn into a heavy lump in your throat. It took a moment to swallow it down enough to answer. "I can't, Poe. This is no place for kids."
"But it won't be like this forever.”
“Yeah? How long then? A year? Five? A decade? Right now they're safe at home with their father, taking comfort in how strong their family is, even if I'm away. With all this uncertainty, I can't mess that up for them. I can't put all this...chaos...on them."
It was clear your words struck a blow as Poe grew quiet. His empty hand was still on the table, open palm facing up, fingers stretched towards you, silently beckoning you to take it. Biting your lip, you looked across the room, unable to focus on him. His voice was hardly above a whisper when he spoke. "Y/n, please...we'll figure this out...just...please."
This time you couldn't hold back your cry as his pitiful words broke you.
By the time you forced the memories away, there were already tears lining your eyes. It had been months since you saw him last and you had managed to lie to yourself, to convince yourself you didn't miss him.
But you did. It was wrong, but you missed him fiercely.
Holding his drink in his mouth, Poe's eyes scanned your face as every small sign of your heartache was laid bare to him. Finally swallowing, his eyebrows drew together and the corner of his lips pulled down in a faint frown. There was a sag to his shoulders as his soft brown eyes lowered until he was staring at the table. Slowly, he set his glass down before rubbing the back of his neck and stealing glances in your direction.
One of the other diplomats was tugging your sleeve, guiding you to their table when you suddenly pulled away. The walls were closing in. "I...can't do this. Apologies, but I need to return to my quarters."
Their arguments of celebrating the day's win fell on deaf ears as you politely excused yourself, citing a sudden headache. Something deep inside told you that if you stayed, he'd get up from his seat. He'd find a moment when you were alone and even if he said so much as hello, it would be your undoing.
Your heart raced so fast, all you could hear was the rushing in your ear. You needed air. You needed him. And the pain in his eyes as he briefly caught your gaze again screamed out that he needed you too.
So, you needed to leave.
The only hope you had was to get to your quarters before he could catch up to you because you suspected he was going to try. Firmly refusing your coworkers again, you turned on your heel and hurried back out the door.
As the cool, fresh air hit your face, it never felt so horrible.
So I feel really rusty getting back into writing and as much as I wanted to pour some emotion into the story (always such a cathartic experience), I’m not sure I did. I felt like I did when I first wrote it, but editing it now it just...it just feels like words. I don’t know how to explain it.
I’ll still post it, but apologies in advance if it reads flat! Hopefully the more I pick away at writing again, the more it’ll come back to me haha
Well I haven't. I only used that gif as a kind of "I'm a bit worse for wear, but I'm here" kind of a vibe.
However, now I'm gonna. I'm going to add her in for my blurb idea and do a version of it with Captain Marvel. Thanks for idea! (Even though you were probably just asking and not suggesting, here we are haha)
