#disconnect and refuse to remember

[remixablix]

Parallels in Mark’s grief being selfish and isolating while Dylan’s is immediately interpersonal. Dylan refuses to let grief erase the love that has and will continue to exist, and he cradles loss like a precious thing. But Mark… Mark is ashamed of the empty parts of him. It is a burden, almost like he assumes it would have been better to never have loved at all

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐷𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑚

Warning: Content explicit sexual content, suggestive language, 18+. A simple hike turns feral when Bakugo pins her to a tree, taking her with rough, relentless hunger until her moans are swallowed by the forest.

You were breathing like there wasn’t enough air in the forest to fill your lungs. The sound of his hips slamming against you echoed—wet, filthy—through the trees. His hands, large and rough, gripped your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish, branding you with every squeeze, keeping you locked against him with a pace that offered no mercy.

Your moans, broken and rising, floated through the leaves like an obscene confession. But he didn’t want anyone to hear.

"Shut that mouth, fuck…" he whispered, voice wrecked, slapping his palm over your lips, hot and damp.

His breath grazed your neck, heated, desperate. You felt his teeth barely scraping your skin—soft at first, then harder—leaving marks.

And right in the middle of all of it—the relentless friction between your thighs, the pleasure burning hotter and hotter in your belly—a thought struck you. So absurd, yet so clear:

How the hell did we end up here?

Because this was supposed to be a hike. A walk in nature. Fresh air. Peace. Disconnection.

Not this.

Not you, legs spread, body pinned to a tree, and Bakugo buried so deep inside you it felt like he needed it to survive.

You remembered the start of the day. You packed water, protein bars, and the comfiest leggings you had. You thought it might be hard to keep up with him, but not that you’d end up begging between gasps for him not to stop.

He warned you.

"This ain’t a damn stroll," he said before leaving. "If you’re gonna tap out, don’t even bother."

But you went. Pride, stubbornness, or maybe just that reckless urge to get a rise out of him.

And you fucking nailed it.

You knew it when, after several kilometers, your sweaty, tired body leaned back against a tree—and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. When his gaze dropped down your waist, watched the sweat sliding between your breasts. When he walked up without a word, breathing hard, jaw clenched.

You didn’t reply. Because when his hands slipped under your waistband, fingers meeting slick heat, there were no words left. Just gasps. Just his rough voice at your ear:

"Fuckin’ soaked… you’re slippin’..."

And then, his fingers were in you first—slow, exploring, reacquainting himself—until it was his cock filling you completely, growling as your walls clamped around him like they’d been waiting.

"But you wanted a break, right?" he said low, voice rough and taunting, digging his fingers harder into your hips.

"Katsu…" you whispered, trembling, breathless.

"Then fuckin’ rest like this, with my cock inside," he growled into your ear, giving you no mercy. "Show me my girl ain’t weak."

And he started moving faster, rougher—like he wanted to break you down, like he needed you to hold on—slamming into you with a pace so savage it knocked the air from your lungs.

Your body reacted on its own, chasing more, needing more, trembling under him but refusing to give out.

And it drove him crazy.

"That’s what I fuckin’ like…"

And when you came—wrecked by a wave of raw, blinding pleasure that dragged tears from your eyes—he just growled louder, pounding into you once, twice more, before spilling deep inside with a guttural breath that sounded more like desperation than relief.

But he didn’t stop.

He pulled his hand from your mouth and turned you just enough so you could see him over your shoulder, still buried inside. His eyes burned. Sweat dripped down his face, jaw clenched tight—Bakugo didn’t look satisfied.

He looked fucking starving.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[moonreader1010]

What their soul whispers about you after midnight 🌒🌕🌘

What this reading is about:- What their soul whispers about you at midnight. Not their ego, not their fears but their true self when they are most naked in their being, speaking across time and space, calling you, feeling you, yearning for the home they haven't met yet but know deep down exists in you.

Pick a pile my dear reader- (close your eyes and pick the image that calls out to you)

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3.

Note:- the pictures used do not belong to me and all rights go to their original owners. This reading is for entertainment purposes only, take what resonates. Have fun ;)

Pile 1:- The Name They Do Not Know, But Call Out Anyway.

Their body slips into sleep, but their spirit refuses to rest. Beneath every steady breath and still heartbeat, something stirs violently — a craving that logic cannot explain and waking life cannot satisfy. You. They do not know your name. They do not know your face. But they know your energy. Oh, how they know. Their soul, ancient and restless, hums your frequency like a half-forgotten melody from lifetimes ago. In the empty dark, when the city is quiet and their mind has stopped racing, only one thing breaks through: a feeling. A feeling of you. It is maddening in its sweetness, tender in its violence. The ache is soft at first, just the faint pull of "someone" out there. But with every passing second, it builds — from soft yearning to violent craving. Their lips murmur your name unconsciously, though they don’t know what they’re saying. They clutch at sheets like they could pull you from the ether. They toss and turn, plagued by flashes of a love they haven't yet lived, plagued by the ghost of a kiss they've never taken but somehow remember. You are stitched into their being. Not yet met, yet deeply familiar. They wonder — "Where are you?" and "Why can’t I find you?" but deep down, they already know: your meeting was always written. Their soul does not question if anymore. Only when. Every night, as they surrender to dreams, they whisper silently to the heavens, "I will wait. I will find you. Come to me." You are the missing beat in their existence, and they are restless until your rhythm becomes theirs again.

(book a personal reading with me to know more ;). Hope you enjoyed!)

Pile 2:- The One Who Walks Their Dreams.

You are everywhere in their dreams. You slip in softly at first — not disruptive, but mesmerizing, familiar in a way that both soothes and unravels them. You smile in fleeting moments, brush their arm in crowded dreamscapes, linger at the edge of their vision like temptation they dare not fully touch. And yet, by the time the moon claims the sky and their defenses fall completely, you step forward and everything becomes you. Their dreams wrap around you like silk. You are the softness they melt into, the temptation they never resist, the magnetic pull they never question. In this realm, they do not hold back. You hold them, talk without words, run your fingers across places they never let anyone else touch — not just skin, but soul. Here, they confess. Here, they are honest. They whisper their fears, their hopes, their obsessions. They ask you to stay. They admit they don’t want to wake up if it means leaving this behind. You are not just the dream lover. You are sanctuary. You are hunger and comfort, a duality they never believed could exist until they found you here — night after night. And when dawn breaks? It devastates them. Your absence is unbearable. They move through the day like a body without oxygen, disconnected, lost. They seek your presence in strangers' eyes, in songs on the radio, in fleeting scents and colors that remind them of the dream world. But none compare. You are their hidden addiction now. Their dreams betray them nightly, binding them tighter to a love story unfolding in secret chapters only their soul reads. They no longer sleep for rest — they sleep to return to you.

(book a personal reading with me to know more ;). Hope you enjoyed!)

Pile 3:- The Sacred Ache — When Knowing Isn’t Enough.

They wear confidence like armor, flirt with life like it’s a game, and charm their way through admirers without ever looking back. To the world, they are untouchable. But the truth? The truth whispers only at night, when the laughter dies and no one is watching. That truth is you. They feel you everywhere now. Not like an idea or a fleeting crush, but like a gravitational pull that owns them. It’s terrifying how deep it runs. They feel you in the way they pause before sleeping, hoping to hear your spirit speak back. They feel you when they wake suddenly at 3AM, heartbeat erratic, mind spinning, mouth dry — because your energy just kissed theirs through the veil. They know you are real. Their soul knows. They sense you walking this Earth, parallel yet unreachable, and that knowing wrecks them. This is no shallow want. This is ancient. This is carved into cosmic DNA. They feel your softness already — the way you will one day hold them when they’re tired of pretending. They feel your fire too — the way your passion will consume them in ways they once swore they’d never allow. They know you will see them naked — not in body, but in spirit. You will read their insecurities like poetry and love them anyway. And they miss you. Desperately. Not because you’re gone — but because they haven’t reached you yet. Each night, they fall asleep clinging to invisible threads that tie them to you, praying silently that you feel it too, that somewhere, you’re whispering their name as fiercely as they whisper yours. Because you? You are the ending they are racing toward, even if they pretend during the day they aren’t already yours.

(book a personal reading with me to know more ;). Hope you enjoyed!)

[umbralstars]

I think one of my favorite things about FF7 is how genuinely alien Gaia is. I think people gloss over how different this world is compared to ours and I don't just mean magic. Gaia doesn't have plate tectonics, or if it does it doesn't work the same as our world. The Lifestream isn't just a metaphysical space, it's a physical ocean under the crust of the Planet that acts of in a similar fashion to the mantle of Earth. The Lifestream can flow to the surface and tear apart the land or piece it back together in whatever way it sees fit. It can sink or create entire landmasses at random.

It can flow in ways to create a lush paradise or concentrate so heavily in areas they become borderline toxic. The Nibel Mountains (while I know part of their problem is there's been a reactor there for 40+ years; do remember Nibel is facing the same problem of ecological collapse the Midgar Wastes are, so that's why it looks Like That. Nibel is just lucky it had one little town instead of a giant city) are essentially Gaia's version of active volcanoes, just without the heat of magma and lava. The Lifestream is also so close that those mountains were intimately tied with the cycle of life and death in Nibel probably for generations. Rhadore, similarly, was a volcanic archipelago, and her people knew that well. Shinra? They refused to listen as they always do.

The Lifestream itself is also one of the most animist concepts I've ever seen in fiction. It is All Life. Everything upon Gaia is intimately woven into the fabric of the Lifestream; plants, animals, rocks, rivers, oceans, Everything. It contains all memories that have ever existed and will ever exist upon Gaia. The Lifestream is the movement of the waves, the rushing course of rivers, the memories of materia, the slopes of the mountains, the rustling of plants and leaves, it is the souls of all things, it is mortal and gods alike.

The world we see in FF7 proper is a fantasy world that is slowly being consumed by capitalism and a cyberpunk hellscpe (those are often the same things). It is a fantasy world that has forgotten what it once was, what it still is. It is about a people who have been utterly disconnected from the very river of life that created and sustains them.

And I just think that's neat.

[popeabbot]

Safe in your skin - Jack Abbot

Summary: Jack's day off for Memorial Day turns into a shift from hell, can you keep him from going under or will the darkness consume him completely?

Jack AbbotxWife!attending!reader

WC: 11.6k

Tags: Child death, medical gore, Medical inacurasies, like 2 seconds of smut in the beginning, violence, explicit language, mature themes, Gloria being so mean and nasty fr, PTSD, flashbacks, flashback related violence, Jack beating a pos dad, New med student being a whitaker 2.0, ideations of self harm and suicide, you and Jack both being flight risks to the roof, A main character having a breakdown in the ambulance bay in front of god and everyone fr, So so so many holiday injuries.

a/n: If you've seen this before NO YOU HAVEN'T anyways, proceed with caution.

There were few days that workaholic Doctor Jack Abbot refused to set foot in PMTC. Memorial Day, Fourth of July and New Years. He had learned over the years how to push past the darkness that followed him, make light in the face of trauma. But not on days that involved fireworks, even his therapist agreed it would probably be better to avoid those days.

Memorial Day was hard, especially for veterans. Everyone wanted to remember their service while, in a lot of cases, all they wanted to do was forget. So on days like today, you and Jack stayed in and went at it like absolute rabbits. (Hence the nickname Jack Rabbot). For most people, 5am might be too early for sex but you were currently working Jack through the adrenaline high of a nightmare. Sex wasn’t normally how Jack coped but he insisted he needed something real to ground him.

“You’re safe, here, with me.” You left hot open mouth kisses down Jack's neck as he gripped your hips for dear life, like you’d disappear if he let go. 

“Too good for me,” he choked back, bucking his hips into yours at a reckless pace. You tried your best to ground him, placing a flat palm over his heart, taking his hand and splaying it out over your own. Sparks of white flew across your vision with each buck and snap of his hips but you did your best to keep yourself grounded, squeezing his biceps for some form of support.

“Jack, I’m not going anywhere,” you moaned as he bit at your neck roughly. In this moment all that mattered were the two people fighting tooth and nail to become one if at all possible.

*ring* *ring* *ring*

“Somebody- ah- callin’ you?” Jack asked, finding a steadier pace and taking your mouth back into his. You fumbled around your bedside table, catching a glimpse of your screen. 

“Jesus…it’s Gloria.” You groaned, part of you wanted to ignore her, the heat in your belly increasing.

 Unfortunately you knew you had to answer, you tapped Jack's pec and he seamlessly flipped you over without disconnecting. 

Your hand flew over your mouth to cover the moan that escaped you as you answered the call. A shit eating grin spread across Jack's face. He was loving this.

“Abbot, I hate to bother you but we need you to come in for the day shift. The attending that was in place of Robby called out.” Gloria’s voice was curt, almost annoyed that she was bothered with calling you.

You were more annoyed that she was calling you in the middle of sex with your husband. You pushed against Jack’s chest with your freehand, doing your best to not fall over.

“Uh, yeah yeah I can come in.” You nodded, your vision hazy as Jack slowly rotated his hips. “Does that mean I’m pulling a double since Jack has off?”

“Unless he comes in-“

“H-he won’t,” you cut Gloria off, causing Jack to raise an eyebrow at you. “I’ll work a double, be over there as soon as I can.” Jack bucked up into you right as you hung up the phone, the moans you’d been holding back coming out like a sea of praises.

 “I have to work.” 

“No.” Jack pouted, pulling your hips down to pepper you in kisses. 

“Jaaack!” You giggled as he flipped you over again, back pressed into the mattress. You cupped his face. “Robby’s back up called in, I can’t leave the day shift or the night shift with no attending. It wouldn’t be right.”

Jack groaned, nodding as he kissed your forehead.

“You’re just too good,” he muttered. “I’ll make some breakfast, get ready to take on the world sexy!” You giggled again. Part of you wanted to call Gloria and tell her to figure it out. Jack needed you. But so did all the helpless idiots that would be coming through the hospital doors. The devil on your shoulders was quite tempting but the halo never failed to remain high on your brow.

Texts were sent out to his brothers as you rinsed off in the shower. You donned your usual uniform: Sage green compression socks with little white stars, black OCs and scrubs, a white undershirt and a navy blue jacket you’d stolen from Jack. 

Makeup was applied quickly as you tied your hair back, you would make the most of today.

The smell of breakfast coaxed you into the kitchen, Jack stood at the stove humming something under his breath as he rolled burritos.

He had a bag full of all your favorite snacks, breakfast burritos for when you got to work (you planned to at least eat one on the drive over), wraps for lunch and he'd bring dinner most likely. Two packs of gum, some liquid IVs and a bag of candy to keep your blood sugar up.

“Will you be okay?” You asked with genuine concern, snaking your arms around his waist, “I have dirt on Shen I can keep him working.” 

“I am a big boy may I remind you,” Jack shifted around so he could look in your eyes as you spoke. Jack had a knack for holding incredible eye contact, it used to bother you when you first met him but, it quickly became a quirk of his you adored. “I spent many Memorial Days on my own before you, my love, I think I can manage.”

“Just remember what we practiced, you have me, your therapist and the boys on speed dial. I love you so very much Jack.” He smiled softly, you rubbed his jawline with your thumb, trying to cling to him before you had to leave.

“If I have any problems I’ll call you, promise. Now here’s your bag of goodies before you’re late to receive your crew,” Jack produced your backpack full of goodies from behind his back and placed it on yours.

“Ugh what would I do without you?” You kissed him tenderly as he handed a coffee filled thermos and your notepads.

“Mmm, crash and burn I suppose,” he mumbled into another kiss, causing you to smile. His strong arm wrapped around you, caging you in his space. You took a second to breathe him in, there were seldom shifts you worked alone so working with the dayshift without him seemed practically impossible.

6:30am

You drummed your fingers along the truck steering wheel, blaring Coming Undone over the stereo. Jack always joked that it was impossible for someone who looked as sweet as you to listen to hard rock. Your hair swayed back and forth as you moved your head with the music. 

The suburbs along your drive were flooded with red, white and blue in anticipation for the holiday to be celebrated once the sun rose. Families all across Pittsburgh would celebrate with a lot of alcohol, barbecues, and holiday cheer, you could only think of the amount of trauma cases you would be greeted with. The thought of fireworks quadrupled your hypothetical case numbers. 

Your mind drifted to Jack again. He had spent many years pushing through Memorial Day on his own since his late wife had passed, but the both of you knew how drastically he’d improved since you walked into his life. He would be okay but it didn’t mean you wouldn't worry about him.

Stepping out of the truck you were greeted by the cool air of the morning, you pulled your hoodie tighter jogging from the parking lot into the main entrance of the ED. The bustle of the Emergency Department at Pittsburgh Medical was one you had quickly come to love, it took less than a year for you to find your place with your family, the ones who always had your back.

“Well good morning Doc!” Kim greeted you from the nurses station, you smiled brightly, taking your ID from the clip on your pants and swiping it into a computer to log in. 

“Mornin KK!” You took your time not being needed to set up camp as day shift started to come in and take over for the night crew, an uneasy feeling started to swirl in your belly but you pushed it away. The morning seemed too..calm? Usually you walked into the ED swarmed in chaos, its uncharacteristic coolness couldn’t help but be unsettling. You talked with Kim about how the night had gone,  she hugged your neck before leaving as Kingsley- Dana’s fill in for charge nurse- came to set up her own spot at the nurses station.

“No Robby?”

“Nah, Heather made him take off so they could take the kids to see her parents. I was supposed to have off as well but duty calls!” You shrugged as Kingsley offered you a soft smile. “Plus today is just me getting a chance to traumatize the poor innocent med students,” The smile that crept across your lips was quite sinister, earning a smack on the arm from King.

“No Jack?”

“Absolutely not. He’s spending today with his brothers, not treating idiots.” 

“Oh...the day crew has no idea what they’re in for, they got the mean Dr. Abbot!” Dr. Shen snickered as he dropped a coffee off at your area with hand off notes, the board was simple…for now. You smacked his arm and shooed him away, making him promise he wouldn’t end up back here later as a patient. 

McKay and Samira greeted you as they clocked in, you knew all of the veteran day shift doctors but you couldn’t look away from the confused med students that stood around the nurses station looking for an attending. Kingsley called everyone over, the group quickly gathered at her call; she wasn’t Dana but she had been trained well and had become quite respected.

“Alright y’all listen up! Doctor Robby won’t be in with us today so this is our attending Doctor Abbot,” she nodded in your direction, giving you the queue to speak.

“Good morning everyone, I know a few of you but for those of you who don’t know me, my name is Doctor Abbot and I will be your attending for today! It’s Memorial Day so I am sure that today will be chaos, please please do not hesitate to come to me if you have any questions. I will be bouncing around the whole department checking in on everyone but don’t be afraid to come to me. I would rather you come to me with a hunch than a severe emergency.” 

You looked to the crowd of nurses, residents and med students alike, doing your best to fake enthusiasm as that feeling of impending doom crept back in. “You are all smart, capable doctors and nurses, and we are a team! Lean on each other, it’s a beautiful day to save lives so let’s get out there and do it!” 

Kingsley groaned, cringing internally for ever showing you Grey's Anatomy in medical school. Some of the students laughed awkwardly as the residents just rolled eyes and went on with their day as the day time traffic started to pick up. The ambulance bay sat bare and untouched as patients from chairs made their way in and out. You took a free minute to flip through the hand of notes Shen had given you, nothing stood out as needing any kind of immediate attention.

Until the shouting started.

“Security!” Samira shouted from Chairs, your feet were moving before you had a chance to absorb what you were doing.

A man in his early twenties had started beating his younger girlfriend in the middle of the waiting room for not getting him help for his headache fast enough. The girl couldn’t have been older than 17, certainly not old enough to be with the man who was holding her by the nape of her neck beating her to a pulp. Shouting erupted as the people who were healthy enough tried to pull him off of the girl. Dr. Mohan had cut in on the fight, removing the girl from the man's grasp and demanding he leave.

“I’m taking her and we’re leaving.” He spat in Samira’s face, he seemed to be all bark and no bite with a woman who showed no fear. She was anything but afraid as she stood firmly between the two.

“You will be leaving this hospital with security, not her.” 

Crack-

You pushed your way into chairs right as his fist connected with Samira’s nose, sending her stumbling backwards, three security guards came in behind you and rushed the man. He tried to push against the security guards in a means to get at Samira again, a look of murder was eminent in his eyes. 

 You were at Samira’s side in an instant, stabilizing her face. You turned to the sound of crying to see the teenage girl laying in an older woman’s lap, her face battered and bruised. Your blood boiled at the sight, but against your want to pound the man yourself, you focused on the people that mattered. 

“Mo, can you walk?” Samira nodded, wobbling as she stood but finding a steady pace to walk, she helped the young girl up and shuffled her into the ED, a handful of nurses at their side. You turned to face the man who was thrashing against security. 

“You will never touch that girl again, or anyone else for that matter,” you growled lowly to the scum who’s name you didn’t bother to learn. He screamed profanities at you as security put him in a room alone to wait for police. You took the time to check on anyone else who may have been injured, thanking them for trying to help. 

“I’ll find that dirtbag when he gets out, he has no idea what’s coming.” An older man grumbled as you checked his knuckles for any breaks, he was the first to try and separate the couple.

“Trust me,” you nodded, “I know a guy who will make his life hell.”

“Good.”

“Will that poor girl be okay?” Miriam, the older woman who held the young girl, asked. Her words were laced with heavy concern. You nodded, giving her a half smile before thanking her and rushing back to the ED. 

You scanned the department for any sign of Samira or the girl before Dr. King was rushing to your side.

“Mel, what's the sitch?” You ripped a pair of gloves from the wall and followed at her side.

“Male, 30’s, gave himself 3rd degree burns by...pouring diesel over his grill to start his fire faster.” She shared a perplexed glance with you as you walked. What kind of dumbass was your first thought, but you knew people who did way dumber shit with way less.

Wailing coming from South 4 confirmed where your patient was, nurses and EMTs surrounded the man trying to calm him down. The sight was grueling to say the least, his forearms were already forming boils and his skin was still audibly sizzling. Do not throw up in front of this man. Deep breaths dude. Deep fucking breaths. You took a moment to compose yourself before going to the distressed man’s side.

“Gotta name?” You looked to the EMT across from you.

“Antonio Vasquez, piece of work here huh doc? ” He answered. You chose to ignore his comment, facing the patient.

“Mr. Vasquez? I’m Dr. Abbot- are you allergic to Morphine?” The man shook his head no as he did his best to hold back his screams. Heart rate was elevated, due to his current condition. All other labs read beautifully given his circumstances. “Kay, let’s get Mr. Vasquez 3 of morphine for the pain and once he’s settled what do we do Dr. King?”

“Clean and treat the wound, keep under observation on fluids, changing dressing regularly.”

You beamed at her. “Well done! Mr. Vasquez we’re going to have someone down here to look at those burns once they’re clean. And maybe, call your friends and tell them not to use diesel for a fire. Patience and safety are key to a successful Memorial Day!”

The man nodded, grimacing only slightly at where his sheer stupidity had gotten him. You couldn’t help but shake your head slightly, trying to hold back laughter at the memory of a cousin doing the exact same thing. Your pager blared from your pocket, you nodded to Mel before stepping out.

North 4- possible lost appendages. 

You cringed at the note on your pager, picking up your pace as you crossed the ED. There were still no signs of Samira or the girl but you had full confidence they were being taken care of. You stepped into the exam room to see two girls standing around the bed, in the middle was Victoria Javadi examining the third girl, who’s hand was in a cup of red sugar.

“Javadi, talk to me.” You went to her side immediately, the smell of margarita mix invading your senses.

“We’re totally not drunk I mean….it's only like 8:30 in the morning right?” One of the girls, Madison, hiccuped. Oh great. That red cup of sugar was probably blood. You looked at the two girls trying to decipher who was smart enough to clot the bleeding with sugar. Sugar clots was a trick of the trade, you either had to be a nurse or grow up with a nurse to know it. 

“Um- well, the girls came in saying Melanie here cut her hand and maybe cut a finger off while cutting limes.” She leaned in closer to you. “I think they’re wasted…”

You clicked your tongue, pulling on fresh gloves. “Let’s see, ah common case of ‘hand used as a cutting board’.” You cleaned the incision, it spread parallel down her palm, and it wasn’t light. The trio gawked as you placed topical lidocaine on Melanie’s hand and then watched as Javadi stitched her hand with still confidence. Melanie had sliced her three middle fingers but it was nothing some medical grade super glue couldn’t fix.

“So who’s the nurse?” You asked the trio as Javadi worked. The tallest girl, a blonde woman named Leah, sheepishly raised her hand. She was the sober one of the group. “Well done. If you hadn't put her hand in sugar she would probably be in worse shape than she is now.” Leah nodded in full agreement, but her eyes widened as she looked behind you. A police officer stood in the doorway. 

“I’ve got this Dr. Abbot,” Victoria spoke up, “finish stitching then walk through aftercare and discharge. Piece of cake.” You nodded, a small smile on your lips. Victoria was so bright, she’d become a wonderful doctor under the right care. 

“Make sure to put your charts in when you’re done. And ladies? Lay off the tequila juuuust a smidge okay?” The girls nodded as you stepped out.

“Atticus.” You nodded your head to the man who stood before you, hands resting on his vest. You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets, swaying back and forth on your feet slightly.

“Doctor Abbot.” He returned your nod, keeping his features stone cold.”The man from earlier this morning has been taken in, they did have to treat him at AGH as Myrna of all people caught her fist in his face on his way out.” You couldn’t help but let a chuckle get past you, Myrna had a knack for beating on abusive men. 

“I don’t need to treat her do I?”

“No, but we’d like you to come with us to speak to the vic since her parents are apparently out of town for the holiday. She was spending it at a friend's house, or so she told her folks.” 

“Sweet Jesus…” You shook your head, lacing your hands atop. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, how's Samira?” You asked as you walked with the officer to Lark Evans’ room. 

“She’s got balls of steel I’ll tell ya that, she demanded Kingsley tape her nose and keep working unless her CT said otherwise.” 

The two of you made it back to the north wing and into a private room. You knocked a few times before walking in, making sure to announce your presence.

“Lark? It’s Doctor Abbot, Doctor Mohan is getting assessed still, may I come in?”

“sure.” Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. 

“I have a friend with me, his name is Officer Montgomery and he’s here to help y-“ Lark began to freak out at the sight of the officer. Jumping from her bed she ran to you in a panic.

“No. No, no, no I can’t talk to him! If I say anything he will kill me!” Lark sobbed into your chest, white knuckling your open jacket as hot tears ran down her face. Her breathing was erratic, you sat her down and rubbed her back. 

“Lark, we want to help you. That man? He doesn’t love you, he hurt you. He hurt you in public for trying to help. Atticus will make sure you are safe. I promise.” 

“He’s gone, and once your parents get here they’ll take you home and we’ll make sure you never see him again,” Atticus added from the doorway, arms crossed tightly to keep his composure at the sight of the girl breaking down. Since Lark was a minor she wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital grounds unless she was in the care of family. According to Atticus her parents were currently on a plane and would be here in a few hours. 

“can- can I get some water?” 

You nodded, stepping out of the room and dodging Gloria as you grabbed water from your bag. 

“Doc-“

“I’ll be back!” You dodged Gloria again, cracking the water open as you stepped back into the room. Lark tried not to choke as she gulped the water down, her throat sore from the bruises that blackened it. You patted her back softly, blood boiling as you remembered the way he had his hands on her. 

You held Lark as she told Atticus every bad thing her (ex)boyfriend Jason did: to her and in general.You couldn’t imagine how a sweet young girl like her could get caught up with such a low life loser. You grabbed a box of tissues, handing her a fresh one when needed. When she was done talking she laid back down, wrapping your jacket around her frame. Gloria was blowing up your phone, wanting your attention as you made sure Lark had everything she needed in order for you to leave.

“Atticus, do not leave her side until her parents are here.”

“Yes ma’am, didn’t plan on leaving till I walked her out myself.” The officer nodded as you stepped out of the room to face the devil herself.

“Gloria.” You greeted curtly, arms crossed defensively across your chest. She turned and walked down the hall and you followed slightly behind. 

“Doctor. It’s a holiday, we need to get people in and out, not keep people in beds who don’t need them in.” 

You stopped in your tracks, gawking at Gloria openly. You worked nights so day shift management was only talk from Robby over brunch before your shifts. You’d heard him go on and on about how much of a mythic bitch Gloria could be. Hearing it was one thing, witnessing it was another.

“I’m sorry. You want me to kick out a girl who was assaulted in chairs when we have plenty of beds open?”

“We handled the incident in the waiting room,” Gloria said flippantly. “Officer Montgomery told you the threat was removed, she’s free to leave.” 

You scoffed quite loudly, pushing your face into your hands to avoid doing something stupid. Gloria turned, glaring at you. 

“She’s a minor. We legally can’t let her leave. I thought you knew that Gloria? Hospital rules and regulations and such.” It was now Gloria’s turn to scoff at you, your comment leaving her almost speechless. She muttered something about finding a place in the hall before deciding she was needed elsewhere. You took a free moment to text the one person you wanted more than anyone else.

Gloria is driving me up a wall and it’s not even lunch! Hopefully Shen decides he wants more money. I’m ready to come home. Love you babe!

You slipped your phone into your pocket, walking to the nurses station to check the board. Louie was in an exam room- no surprise, the burn victim you saw this morning was on fluids and the girls had left. Things seemed to be evening out, but the board was ever demanding of patients to be seen.

“Fun morning, huh doc?” Samira slid up next to you, her hands folded atop the table. You turned to look at her, a cloud of purple and green had spread from her nose to a black semi circle under her left eye, her nose had been stabilized and taped to the high heavens.

“You can say that again. You feelin’ okay?”

“I popped 3 ibuprofen. I'm livin large!” She laughed lightly. “On a more serious note, how’s your partner in crime? I know he doesn’t work today but I’m half shocked he didn’t just come in with you.”

“Ahh, yeah he thought about it I’m sure until Uncle Jack duties called, some of the guys he served with are getting together until the fireworks get intense so he’s got kiddos galore to juggle.”

Jack's text tone had you slipping your phone out from your pocket. Opening his text you saw a selfie of him and his niece, and red white and blue nail polish messily decorating their fingers. You couldn’t hide the wide smile on your face, seeing the way his dimples etched into his skin and the sun illuminating every one of his freckles made you miss him even more.

“Abbot! Mohan! We got a trauma comin in 5, might be alcohol poisoning, might be an OD” Kingsley called, phone hanging from her ear. You turned to Samira fully, your hand clenched in a fist in front of you. 

“Mo, rock, paper, scissors who gets it.”

“Oh my god you’re a child!” Her eyes lit up mischievously before presenting her own fist. 

Rock. Paper. Scissors. Shoot-

Rock-

Scissors-

“Damn. You’re good.” Samira frowned.

“Must be lucky! Hey you-“ you pointed to a med student whose face you hadn’t seen until today. “You’re with me.” The boy's eyes widened in fear but he nodded and came up to you. 

“I-I’m Bradley Summers. First year med student.” You couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. Emergency Medicine was a shit first rotation, but he seemed bright so you wanted to see what you were working with. A couple minutes later EMTs rolled in with an unresponsive couple.

“Hey Doc, I got a woman in her early 20s, unresponsive to touch and her pupils are blown. We got a pulse but it’s weak.”

“Mo, we got a couple so you’re in!” You shouted back to the nurses station, she was already close behind as the male came in, his pupils were responding to light so he seemed to be in better shape than the woman you were assessing.

“Okay Dr. Summers, what do we do?” Once the patient was on the bed, you stood across from your student as nurses got her hooked up to monitors.

“Her pulse ox 70 doc!” Jesse called out over the chaos. “BP is 90/60 we gotta work fast,” he called out again. You looked down at the woman, her skin was clammy and pale. Bradley suggested narcan, you nodded and grabbed some from the medicine cabinet. Bradley administered the narcan and began to rub the woman’s sternum with his knuckles. 

“She’s not waking up,” Dr. Summers looked up at you with fear in his eyes.

“Baby if you can hear us you need to wake up, okay?” You administered another round of narcan as Bradley continued rubbing the woman’s sternum. Jesse lifted her eyelid and shined a light, nothing. 

“Should we shock her?” He asked. 

“We have no idea what she took and she’s not responding to narcan, she has a pulse so let’s put her on fluids and keep a close eye on her, get a tox screen as well..” You walked from the woman’s room to where Samira was going CPR on the man. 

“We think it was an OD, he responded to narcan but we just lost him again.” 

Administer again in a couple minutes if you don’t get him back, Jane Doe was not responsive, do we have a name for this one?”

“Carl Peterson, apparently they were found like this at a farmers market so who knows what’s in their system. I already got a tox screen ordered.” You nodded, standing out of the way as the team worked seamlessly. After 10-15 minutes Carl regained consciousness, fighting against the people trying to save him. 

“Carl-“ You gripped his shoulders firmly. “My name is Dr. Abbot, you’re in Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. Can you tell me the name of the woman that was with you?” Carl began to settle, eyes wide at the mention of the woman.

“Morgan? Where is she?!”

“She’s being monitored. Carl, do you know if you or Morgan took anything?”

“Uh, no. Other than the fact that I had way too much alcohol in the Pittsburgh sun. Is Morgan okay?”

“Well sir it sounds like you experienced some alcohol poisoning, we’re going to hook you up on fluids and keep you here until you’re better and Morgan wakes up.” You nodded to Samira and stepped out of the room. 

Seeing as you weren’t immediately needed anywhere with your med student babysitting Morgan, you took a moment to sit and chart her case and other cases from the morning. There were plenty of nurses around who could chart for you but you wanted to add certain notes for certain patients.

It already seemed like the weight of the world was heavy around you and it was only 11am. You broke open one of the snacks Jack had packed for you, trying to just take a minute to breathe. A headache was starting to set in, most likely from not having enough water. You took a drink from a water bottle and checked your phone. 

Another picture from Jack showed him, his service dog Judd and a group of 3 girls with red white and blue tiaras on.

His text read: The princess squad just won the hot dog eating contest- Judd included. 

The biggest princess looks quite beautiful. I'd love to meet her ;). Wish I was there, hug the girls!!!

Knowing Jack was with people who cared for him put your mind at ease. If there was one group of people who could keep Jack in a good headspace it was kids, but especially girls. Jack always said he was meant to be a girl uncle, you’d hoped one day he could be a girl dad too. 

11:15 AM

More shouting from chairs broke you from your thoughts. What was in the air in the waiting room today? Matteo was close behind you as you entered the waiting area…Myrna. There were people...cheering around her as she seemed to be beating on someone. The cheers turned to fearful shouting as a knife was brandished from her pocket and driven into whoever was underneath her. The same older man who'd growled about Lark’s boyfriend seemed to be the head of the cheering. His cheers got louder at the sight of the pocket knife.

“Myrna what the hell are you doing?!” You ran up to her, she was laid on top none other than Lark’s ex boyfriend who you'd seen what felt like forever ago. Except now he had a black eye and a knife was embedded in his chest. 

“I told him if he came back I’d make him regret it!” Myrna barked, you pulled her off of the man and cuffed her to a wheelchair. An officer finally ran up to see what was going on.

“Jeez Myr- okay Bradley take her in and let her cool off somewhere.” Bradley nodded, running up behind you to wheel Myrna away.

“Who’s this fine young specimen? Are you single? Myrna’s looking for another husband” Myrna purred as Bradley rolled his eyes, taking her back into the ED. You turned your focus back on Jason.

“Uhhhh- McKay! Help me with this loser!” McKay ran over and helped you pick up Jason, the officer was close behind as you laid him out on a bed. McKay cut the shirt around the knife careful to not disturb it, the blood was still flowing from beneath it but it was only the dam holding back the flood.

“King! Call YoYo, we have a knife in chest situation!” McKay called out to the hallaway. 

“Am I gonna die? Please God, I’m sorry about Lark I don’t wanna die!” 

A monitor behind your head started to blare as his heart rate spiked.

“Hey! Chill the fuck out or you will die, Jason.” McKay’s harsh tone surprisingly did calm him down. Jason took shallow shaky breaths to try and calm himself, he had come back looking for Lark to apologize when he’d been jumped by Myrna, again. 

‘Woah what happened here?” Dr. Garcia asked, stepping into the room.

“Angry Myrna.” You and McKay said at the same time. The two of you helped her to steady the blade before sending him back for surgery.

“Is it bad I want him dead?” McKay asked after being caught up on his situation.

“No. No, not really.” You left to go check on Lark who was still asleep, her parents were on their way so you were going to wake her up.

“Hey doc,” Officer Montgomery smiled as he let you in. 

“Hey. Lark’s parents are on their way but Jason is here so keep an eye out when you walk her out.” You whispered. Atticus’s eyes widened, full of anger. He pulled his phone out and began to text someone, if he pounded his keypad any more you were sure it would break.

“Don’t worry he’s in surgery, Myrna got him, again.”

“Oh cute.” Atticus replied flatly. “Have fun filling that incident report out with the she devil.”

You were almost amused by his comment until something wet was wiped across your butt, You whipped around to see Judd staring up at you, whining anxiously.

But if Judd was here, where was Jack? 

Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you ran to find your husband, Judd following close behind. The ED was chaos, Jack could be heard barking orders from one room as Dr. Whitaker and McKay were barking orders in another. Your legs felt like cement as you walked into the room. Jack stood tending to the patient- his niece Amelia who he'd just been at the park with.

“We need to drain more fluids, now!”

“Her lungs won’t be able to handle it, Dr. Abbot. She’s tired.” Princess grimaced at the thought of not being able to save her. Normally a nurse would never tell a doctor what to do but right now Jack was not in a level headspace, he needed the facts even if they hurt.

Amelia wasn't a day over 12, her hair, body and clothes were drenched. An intubation tube was already down her throat as Jack did CPR. Perlah muttered that she was most likely gone when they brought her in. Your heart broke as your eyes fell to her red, white and blue nail polish. The same polish on Jack's hands.

“Come on baby please..please come back,” he muttered under his breath, but you heard him. You always heard him. You stood frozen as his hands pressed her chest up and down, with each curl and squeeze of his hands, a piece of polish chipped away. Each chip was like a piece of his hope shattering. Amelia was gone. She was gone and Jack was here, in the ER, trying to save one of his own children. A place he shouldn’t be, doing something horrific to someone he loved. Tears streamed down his face every time the girl was shocked with no rhythm returning. The nurses all stood shocked and slightly concerned. The stoic Jack Abbot was breaking in front of them. 

“Shock her again.” His voice was strained. The room stood still. “Shock. Her. Again.”

Princess picked up the paddles and shocked the girl, no rhythm. Jack pushed on the girl again continuing CPR. You didn’t notice the tears streaming down your own face until nurses in the hall were giving you concerned looks. You searched for Amelia’s parents, they seemed to be yelling at a man outside. Joanna’s eyes caught yours and she knew. Your feet carried you into the room, your arms came around his shoulders. 

“She’s gone baby…Ame’s gone.” You looked to Amelia’s parents as they walked in, screams tore from her mother as she fell to her baby. Nolen stood behind his wife, his eyes trained on his baby’s face. Whatever had happened was devastating, a young girl taken before she could even hit her prime. You had always been fond of Amelia, she was the first one to accept you when you and Jack first started dating and you’d been stuck like glue ever since. The nurses cleared the room, giving your family a bit of respect.

“Call it Jack.” Nolens voice came shaky, he was trying not to crack. “Call it so I can go after the man that took my baby.”  

“Amelia Jones, time of death 12:00pm.” Jack whispered, the world crashing down around him. Nolen kissed his wife's head and quietly exited the room, Jack squeezed you tightly before following his brother. You could see Whitaker and McKay working on another patient and needing help.

“JJ, I am so, so sorry.”

“Go save that other baby please,” Joanna sobbed, pulling Judd into her lap as she held her daughter's hand tightly.”If she doesn’t live, Amelia died for nothing.”  You nodded, looking at Amelia's lifeless body one more time, her red white and blue nail polish popped against her pale skin. Today was supposed to be a happy day, a day for festive nail polish and hot dogs. You stepped out of Amelia’s room, trashing your gloves and ran into the room across the hall. Garcia was pulling supplies to help Whitaker with the girl.

“Somebody talk to me,”

“Lelani Matthews, 7 year old girl, she’s got fluid in her lungs. Got caught on a line at the lake and was drowning, apparently she was saved by another girl because her father was too drunk to notice.” Whitaker commented, working a tube through the girl's rib to remove the excess fluid.

“Amelia.”

“What?” McKay turned, seeing the grief etched into your face. 

“The older girl, her name was Amelia.” 

As Whitaker extracted the fluid the girl gasped for air, crying that she was hurt. You rushed to her side, brushing her hair away and telling her that everything would be okay, Whitaker looked at her chest on a sonogram as McKay started her stitches, a frown slowly setting in. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, stroking Lelani’s hair.

“Would you, come look at this please, Dr. Abbot?” You pulled away from Lelani and walked to Dennis, it looked like her lung had partially collapsed from the stress of the fluid. You chewed your lip thinking about Amy. Surely there was a chance she was a match? Were her lungs even viable if they had also collapsed? You cursed yourself for even thinking that way. She had just fucking died.

“Get her on fluids, keep her comfortable. Get her on the transplant list. Think you can pull some strings on that Yo?” Garcia and Whitaker nodded as you stepped out of the room, trying to keep your composure. Nolen and Jack walked to the parking lot with the man you assumed to be Lelani’s father. You took a deep breath, making sure you weren’t immediately needed, and stepped outside.

“You took my daughter from me-” Nolen spat in the man's face, he avoided any eye contact, the alcohol radiated off of him. While Nolen was visibly angry, screaming and throwing his hands around, you were more concerned about the silent anger that was seeping off your husband.

“It’s not my fault your kid jumped in to save-” Before he could finish speaking, Jack tackled him and began laying his fists into the man. Nolen made no effort to pull him off, only standing there numbly.

“Jack- Jack you have to let him go!” You yelled dashing across the street and into the parking lot. You walked up behind Jack, fear in your voice as he ignored the man's pleas to stop. You touched Jack’s shoulder softly, he whipped around ready to pound whoever was trying to stop him, until he was met with your fearful eyes and tears. Jack sighed deeply as he stood, shrinking before you, he fell into your arms. 

You gripped Nolens arms, your eyes telling him everything he needed to know. His wife needed him. Just like Jack needed you. He sobbed into your shoulder, letting grief overtake his form, you held him through the shakes like always. One thing you would always make clear to Jack Abbot was that he was safe in your skin. You could tell him you were sorry, but it wouldn’t change a damn thing. You could let him beat that girl's father, who was too drunk to feel any remorse, but it would just land him in jail. So until you were pulled away from him, you’d stay standing in the parking lot, with your arms wrapped around the only man who mattered, who would ever matter.

Your phone started to blow up with messages after a few minutes. Mostly Gloria. 

“Hey, I have to go back in,”

“I’ll come with you. I’m here, I might as well stay.” You gripped Jack’s hand tightly as the two of you walked back into PMTC. Joanna stepped out of Amelia's room and gripped you tightly. 

“Thank you sweet girl, thank you for letting her go when we couldn’t.” You sniffled as you hugged her back, doing your best to keep it together, you turned and hugged Nolen just and tightly. “I’ll take care of her till someone comes and gets her.” JJ nodded, gripping Judds leash tighter. They offered to keep him since Jack decided to stay here at the ED against your loving suggestion. You sent Jack up to an on-call room to change and shower. Dropping next to Amelia as you waited for the coroner, Gloria walked in and sat next to you.

“What do you want?” You wiped your hand down your face tiredly, you really did not want to deal with her any more today. “My niece just died and her uncle had to code her. Please don't tell me you’re here to bitch?”

“I am so sorry for your loss, both you and your husband. Traffic is starting to pick up significantly, we need beds.”

You groaned, pushing past Gloria trying to get fresh air anywhere you could. Paramedics were coming in and out with patients every 10-20 minutes, you’d been counting. McKay and Whitaker had been doing a fantastic job in Triage, keeping people moving in and out as much as possible. As of right now you had at least 10 open beds with most patients being able to wait in chairs to be discharged. 

“I don’t want to hear about fucking beds.” You threw your arms up exasperated. “I just counted 10, the girl in North 4 will be out once her parents get here and Amelia-“ you took a deep breath to contain yourself. “We have the beds Gloria. I promise. Now please, go find someone else to bother.”

“I suggest you get a grip and keep your composure the rest of the day Dr. Abbot. One more smart ass comment and I’m writing you up.” Gloria’s voice was cold as she got up and left the room. You sat quietly, holding Amelia’s hand until a coroner came to take her to the morgue. You kissed her forehead lightly, keeping your eyes trained on her now covered frame as she was taken from the ED. 

You walked back to the nurses station, feeling eyes all around and sat at your seat letting your head fall into your hands. All you needed was 5 minutes to collect yourself. But that never happened, did it?

“Lark Evans’ parents just got her, I walked her out myself and ran into a man who wants to press charges on Jack for assault.” Atticus laid your jacket over your shoulders, propping his elbows on the desk.

“Why would someone want to press charges?” Kingsley walked up, arms crossed firmly, “he knew the family of the kiddo he lost…no one has seen the other girl's parents, I’ve been on the phone with an aunt for like 10 minutes.”

“No one’s seen the girl's father because Jack beat him in the parking lot.” Atticus gave you a pointed look.

“Jack was knocking some sense into a drunk father who couldn’t even watch his own child,” you shot back, shooting daggers into his heart with your mind. “I can’t say I condone it but you’d do the same if you had to code your own niece and not be able to save her.”

You watched as Atticus’s eyes widened in horror, Kingsley had to cover her mouth to keep her gasp quiet. Her hand found your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The air was tense, walls were cracking and someone would break by the end of the night. Atticus promised to talk to the dad and see if they could work something out, who said cops couldn’t be dirty and good? 

1:30 PM

“Bradley!” You caught the young student as he passed the nurses station, coming in from a lunch break. “Walk with me,” His eyes widened, yet he nodded and fell inline with you as you walked to check in on your unresponsive OD. Morgan had every wire you could think of attached to her, her blood ox levels had dropped so she’d been put on additional oxygen.

“Will she ever wake up?” 

“Well,” You logged into your ipad, reading the results of her tox screen, “She had a hell of a drug cocktail so I’m not sure. Hit her with a dose of Narcan and see what happens.” 

You watched as Bradley grabbed the narcan and gently held the woman’s head as he administered to each nostril. What you weren’t prepared for was for Morgan to shoot up from her bed, ready to throw hands with whatever she could grab. She gripped the back of Bradleys head and yanked hard.

“I said to get the hell off of me fucker!” She shrieked, Bradleys eyes had turned into saucers as he calmly removed her hand from his hair.

“M-Ma’am you’re in the hospital. We’re doctors.” The woman continued to flail around begging for help, you tried to jump in to help, when she went for the IV. Blood began to spray over the three of you, causing Morgan to shriek more, a couple nurses came in to help calm her down. You drew up a sedative, just to have in case.

“Morgan, honey no one is here to hurt you, we’re just glad to see you awake you’ve been out for a few hours. I’m Dr. Abbot and this gentleman who brought you back to the physical realm is Dr. Summers. Can you tell us what you remember last?” Morgan settled down, taking a few deep breaths. You handed a wipe to Bradley and began to clean the blood off of you as Morgan spoke. Princess cleaned and bandaged her arm and inserted a new IV into the opposite arm.

“I was at a farmers market with my boyfriend. This weird guy kept harassing us about trying his herbal tea, I kept trying to tell him now but eventually took it just to get him to leave me alone.” She began to cry, voicing how stupid she’d felt for letting a man pressure her into taking something. 

“It’s not your fault.” Bradley cut in, placing a soft but firm grip on her shoulder. “It is never your fault for a man pressuring you into doing something you don’t want to do.” You smiled softly, his demeanor calming the girl instantly, she silently nodded. You left Bradley to care for the girl and walked over to check on her boyfriend.

“Well Mr. Peterson, Princess is coming to discharge you, Morgan is a little disoriented but she’s awake and you’re more than welcome to sit with her.” 

“Oh my god Doc, thank you so much!” Carl hugged you tightly, the first kind gesture you’d received. You gave him a slightly awkward smile before walking out of the room. You were quickly greeted by a mother with a sobbing toddler on her hip, his arm was tight against his chest.

“Oh my, hi i’m Dr. Abbot lets park you in this room right here.” You gingerly let the mother and son into a room, not feeling the eyes that were watching from across the ED. “What’s your name buddy?” You kept your tone light as you took the young boys vitals.

“Elijah.”

“Wow! That's such a cool name, wanna tell me what happened?” You slightly looked up in the mothers direction, she looked like she was a breath away from falling apart.

“H-he was running with a kite and fell and caught his arm wrong, I think it’s broken.”

You nodded and gently pulled his arm away from his chest, he whimpered but put on a brave face, trying to be a big boy. 

“You’re doing such a good job Elijah,” You smiled down at him as you lightly examined his arm. “In a few minutes my friend Jesse is going to come get you and take you upstairs, then some nice people are going to take a picture of your arm so we can see how broken it is.”

“Can I have a purple cast?” Elijah asked, eyes looking up brightly.

“You can have whatever color you want baby!” You smiled softly before stepping out. “Got a kiddo who needs to be queued for an x-ray!” When you turned around you noticed Jack had slipped in behind you and was talking with the small boy. 

“Oh yeah dinosaurs are so cool, maybe the nice doctor will let you do more than one color,” Jack nodded in your direction as he was administering some pain medication to help Elijah relax.

“Could I do them like your nails?” The boy asked, taking Jack's large hand in his smaller one and examining the chipped polish. Your heart broke seeing Jack slightly falter, a smile crept across his face. 

“Yeah kiddo,” His voice cracked lightly. “I think we can make that work.”

Jesse came in to take the mother and son up to radiation, you and Jack took that time to sit together and process the afternoon in silence. You took his hand, drawing small circles over his knuckles, pressing light kisses over each one. You hadn’t even had a chance to look him over after he’d thrown those punches at Mr. Matthews.

“Are you okay?” “No.” His voice cracked again, a sea of emotion hiding behind his stoic eyes. “I think we will be one day, but today we carry on as well as possible and break down when we get home.” Jack made a point to include you in the grieving, Amelia had been like a niece to you, she was your family. Taylor came in with a cast kit, she paid no mind to the moment you were sharing, as soon as she came in she was out. The pain the two of you were experiencing was being felt throughout the entire ED. Families shared pain, they would carry it with you as long as they needed to. Jesse texted you a heads up so you wouldn’t be caught off guard by Elijah's arrival.

‘Well, It looks like we’re going to have to put a couple screws in your arm dude,” Jack drummed his fingers against the ipad as he walked back in from the nurses station. Elijah's mother looked like she was going to faint.

“Woah..like a robot!” Elijah grinned excitedly

“Yes!” Jack nodded enthusiastically, you smiled from the side happy to see your husband get back in his groove. “And don’t worry mom, it’s a pretty invasive surgery, and chicks dig scars,” He winked to Elijah at the last part, making the boy laugh loudly followed by a comment that girls had cooties. 

“Well, we’re going to get you ready for surgery, and I’ll have you know my wife is very lovely and doesn't have cooties!” 

Jack sent the boy off to surgery and walked the mom to the OR waiting room. You smiled softly, if the day could just end like this you’d be happy. You helped with a few triage patients, trying to get as many people out of the ED before the real memorial day fun came, drunk people and fireworks. Every year they held a huge firework show in the middle of Pittsburgh in the park, and every year you’d have at least two handfuls of people come in with fire work related injuries.

You would never forget your first year at PMTC, fresh in your residency, a man had lit himself on fire trying to be his own firework stand, the scene had scarred you for life. Jack, being older than you but still fresh in his residency of civilian medicine, had jumped in like he was back in Iraq. You had never seen someone act so fast, it was like second nature how he treated the man's burns. You hadn’t known much about Jack back then, aside from the fact that he had some previous medical background but technically had to go through medical school. He was short in his words, and at times his temper, but he was seldom ever short with you.

‘You’re the only one who gets it,” He’d told you one night after you’d found him on the roof. ‘Those assholes are here for the money. Me and you, we’re here because we care. Never let it burn you out, they need us.’

That was the day you fell in love with Jack Abbot, and regardless of the fact that it would be two years after that day before he confessed he felt the same, you stayed beside him. Thick and thin, fire and ash. No matter what the world threw at you, you handled it with grace and care.

Jack had gotten better about managing flashbacks but it would still happen on occasion, you learned his tells quickly. Deescalation was key for getting Jack through tough moments, moments like the one about to walk in the door.

"Code Tan!"

An EMT shouted, coming into the ED with a man strapped to a gurney. Jack was at his side assessing the patient before he was even in a room. You ran in behind him, it was a John Doe who ran into midday traffic. He was mumbling something incoherent, you looked up to try to read his lips, his face was covered in his own caked blood, as you looked farther up to find his injury- you saw it. His brain was pulsating from the side of his head that had been completely torn away.

‘Oh- oh my God!” Everyone looked in your direction, the room stopped at the sight. “We- make sure his back is stable, I’m going to clean what I can, someone page surgery.” 

The man's pulse was weak, you were not going to lose him, Jack made the decision to intubate. In, out, he worked like it was second nature.

“Let’s get that leg cleaned and check his road rash for any debris, do we have an ID on this guy?” Jack stood silently beside you, handing and passing off things as you needed them. You’d seen plenty of cadaver brains but to see one pulsing under your touch was horrifying. 

“What do we ha- oh woah is that a brain?” Doctor Santos- the surgical consult- stepped in, donning a pair of gloves. She easily made her way to your side, ignoring the rest of the man’s injuries and focusing solely on the brain that was still pulsing beneath your fingers. You took a step back, taking a deep breath to anchor yourself from the reality that you basically just held a living brain in your hands.

“Doc, you might want to see this,” One of the paramedics gave you a pointed look, she wanted you to see it. You nodded and stripped your gloves, stepping out of the room.

“He’s a Vet.”

Your eyes widened.

“How do you know he’s a veteran?” She produced a pair of broken dog tags from her pocket, placing them in your open palm. You pressed over his name lightly.

Curtis Bradshaw. 

Part of you wanted to keep this information from Jack, if Curtis didn’t pull through he would still carry some blame but if Jack knew he was a veteran he would  never forgive himself, especially today. You nodded to the paramedic and pocketed the tags as you stepped back inside. Jack was going CPR, his heart rate had gone from a thready pulse to none at all. There had been a shift in the room, you spotted the army ranger tattoo on Curtis’s bicep that had been revealed at his shirt being removed, you sucked in a breath of heavy air. 

“Push 3 of Epi,” Jack demanded, holding eye contact with you, sweat beading on his forehead again already. You nodded, drawing a dose and administering it through his IV port. Jack stepped down and grabbed the pedals, praying it would work.

“Clear!” His pulse stayed at a flatline, Bradley jumped in, telling Jack he would do CPR so they could focus on saving the man beneath him. 

And work you did. You’d spent entirely too much time with the patient, after an hour of trying every trick of the trade, pushing more epi and trying more CPR, doing anything you could to start his heart, but it was no use. You patted Bradleys shoulder as you stepped out of the room to catch his breath.

Jack stood silently over the man.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I’m so sorry Curtis.” You rounded the bed and stood next to Jack, taking his trembling hand in yours. 

“I’ll see if he has any family and call them.” Jack nodded, squeezing your hand tightly, his eyes were screwed shut. He was muttering something that sounded like a prayer under his breath. You wrapped your free hand around his arm and closed your eyes, praying with Jack that Curtis would make his transition into the beyond smoothly. It wasn’t fair, he’d obviously needed help, why was no one there to talk him off the ledge? You took a deep breath and stepped back into the heart of the ED. Myrna had Bradley Summers cornered up.

“I’m sorry Myrna, I’m not going to become your secret lover and bust you out of here, you can leave in a couple hours.” 

“Oh come on sour puss, it could be fun! My last 3 husbands said I was an excellent partner,” Myrna winked with a sly smile, Bradley rolled his eyes but made pleading eye contact as soon as he spotted you.

“Myr, he’s a first year student, don't scare him off just yet!” Myrna turned to face you with a sly smile.

“Yeah, I remember when you were a first year and you couldn’t stop making eyes at Sargent Sexy over there,” You couldn’t hide how your ears reddened at the mention of Jacks nickname, Myrna laughed and rolled away, complaining about wanting a juice box to one of the male technicians.

“Is she always like that?” Bradley asked with a perplexed look.

“Always.” You nodded. “She really is a sweet lady, she just has such a dirty mind!” You shared a small laugh before going back to the nurses station, Curtis’s dog tags in hand. 

“Give me his tags and I’ll find a family,” Kingsley placed an open hand out, you nodded and placed the dog tags in her hand. 

5:00 PM

As the afternoon turned into the evening, the severity of your patients grew more intense, more burns and quite a few ATV and road rash accidents as people gathered in the park for the firework show. What no one was prepared for was the 3 car pile up between a truck, car and ambulance in the middle of the bay. You would never forget the sounds of tires screeching and metal crunching. An ambulance came into the bay from across traffic, but a Truck driver who wasn't paying attention clipped the back of the ambulance and hit the passenger side of the car, causing it to flip.

The gruesome noise alerted everyone in the ED. You grabbed Bradley, Jack and a gown and ran outside to assess the damage. The paramedics made it out of the ambulance with their patient, running past the three of you to get inside. 

“Check the truck, I’ll check the driver in the car.” You nodded to Jack, taking Bradley and running to the pickup.

“Sir?” You opened the door to see a piece of rebar from the stop sign the ambulance had hit, sticking out of the base of the man's throat. “Don’t talk okay? We’re gonna do blinks, once for yes and twice for no, okay?” He blinked once, confirming he understood. You ripped your coat off and placed it under the rebar to create slight pressure against the wound.

“I’ll go grab a C collar,” Bradley ran back inside, you peered across the hood of the truck, Jack was laid on the ground, his go bag opened and spread out as he tried to talk to the woman pinned inside.

--

“Hey Charlie, the fire department will be here soon and we’ll get you out of this car, sound good?”Jack was laid in the shattered window of the woman who’d been hit. The woman nodded shakily, she was losing blood, fast. Jack had made an attempt to pull her out himself but she was trapped under the caved in dashboard. There was a crimson pool that spread across her abdomen, drops of it hitting Jack's arms as he sat with her. She had been following the ambulance that was carrying her son.

“I was just trying to have my car...so we could watch fireworks after he got out. I’m not going to be able to do that, am I doc?” Jack looked into the woman's eyes, she’d already accepted she was dying, that’s how Jack knew the morphine he’d given her had set in. He could have agreed, but he needed to hold on to some semblance of hope for the both of them.

“Like I said, once PFD gets here we’ll get you all fixed up. I’ll make sure you have a perfect view of the firework show.” The woman laughed softly at his attempt to comfort her, her laugh turned into a bloody cough. “Easy there mom, save your energy.” Jack pulled a piece of gauze from his bag and wiped her mouth, her eyes widened as she caught his nail polish.

“Hug your girl tight when you get home Doctor Abbot. If I don’t…don’t make it out of this, make sure my baby knows I love him.” 

Her words hit Jack hard, he’d been spending all afternoon trying to push Amelia out of his mind but she kept coming back, kept finding ways to tell him she would be okay. Tears pricked at his eyes as he watched the women's decline set in. He felt like he was back overseas, holding soldiers' hands as they died helplessly. The darkness began to cloud his mind, the screams of everyone he’d ever lost started to ricochet in his head. He tried to blink back the noise, focus on the patient.

“Tell me about your son.” The fire department was three minutes out, they could make it. He couldn’t lose anyone else today.  

“His name is Adam, he’s a wild teenager but I love him. It’s just me and him, but honestly? We wouldn't have it any other way.” Her breathing became more labored as she spoke, her grip on Jack’s hand tightened. “He- he uh, got stung by a bee. It’s a pretty bad allergy and I’d forgotten his epi-pen. I promised we’d be back in time for the fireworks…he loves fireworks.” Her words began to slur together, Jack held her hand tighter, trying to get her to stay awake. He could push epi but it would make her crash faster once they got her inside. She was fighting as hard as she could but the blood loss was making her tired.

“Charlie-” Jack choked back his fear, “hey you gotta fight a little harder for me? Please?” Jack stared into her eyes, she was smiling at him. 

“Tell Adam I love him, and thank you for making me not be afraid.” 

The fire engine pulled up right outside of the ambulance bay, but it was too late. Charlie’s grip went slack in Jack's hand. His eyes widened, a mix of shock, fear, anger and despair. You had walked Bradley through stabilizing the man in the truck, the rebar hadn't gone all the way through his neck so once you were sure he was good to go, two firefighters came to help him out of the truck. Jack couldn’t hold back the shakes anymore, everything that had happened today and every one he’d lost. He just couldn't do it anymore. The darkness reared its ugly head, digging sharp talons into the depths of his soul, where his love laid. He weakly held his face as the sobs tore through him. He was angry, at the world, at himself, and maybe even at God.

“Doc, I think she’s gone,” Bradley stood to the side of Jack as the sobs continued. Twice in one day he cracked. And now he sat amongst the people who looked to him for guidance, broken. It wasn’t fair. None of those people deserved to die.

"It's not fucking fair, what is the point of all of this if we can't save them?!" Jack was breaking, you needed to get him somewhere else.

You reached a hand down to Jack, you and now Bradley could be his safe space. Jack took your hand and stood, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“I’m not home yet, but I’m hugging my girl tight Charlie.” You wrapped an arm around Jack’s waist, the three of you heading back into the storm. Before you could even make it in a group of punk teens on motorcycles whizzed past the ambulance bay, chucking fireworks at the doorway. Jack heard the familiar noise before he even saw the bikers. He pushed you and Bradley down, crouching above the two of you as one of the fireworks popped at your feet.

“Hey, hey! Get up now before they get our fucking location.” Jack was in full soldier mode, slightly crouched still, his head was on a swivel as he looked for enemies who weren’t there. A smoke bomb made to look like a grenade rolled under your feet, it popped loudly as the smoke began to seep from it. Jack’s grip was firm on your waist as he yelled to the other people in the bay about there being an attack.

“J-Jack. Baby we’re at work there’s no attack.” You coughed through the smoke as Jack pulled you into the ER, muttering about needing reinforcements. "We can go to the roof, the reinforcements will find us there, we'll be safe." Jack nodded in agreement, keeping his eyes trained foreward as you limped through the hospital together. You texted Kingsley to call in your own reinforcements- you were not going to make Jack work any more.

Get Bradley to call Vienna, see if she can come in. We're going home.

All ready on it captain! Vi is on her way

As the two of you stepped onto the roof, Jack realized where he was. The familair breeze grounded him as the two of you sat on the roofs edge. Jack's head fell onto your shoulders.

"Hell of a memorial day huh?"

"Yeah," You laughed dryly. "you could say that."

The two of you sat in silence for hours, the day started to gain its golden hues as the sun began to set. You didn't want to talk, not today. Jack always said you needed a day to feel, then a day to talk. Something his therapist had told him often. If either of you spoke it made the hellish day real, and you would have to face your losses. For now, you ignored the way the ground called to you, knowing you felt better above. Jack squeezed yout hand tightly, almost as if he was having the exact same thought.

"Jack?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Let's go home."

"Yes ma'am." Jack stood first, reaching down to help you over the guardrail. You held each other tightly as you snuck out of the ER, leaving everything but your phone to pick up another day. The night shift was in and fixing the chaos as they did, you were grateful to see Bradley's older sister Vienna work with her team like a well oiled machine. You thought of Leilani, who’d been moved up to the ICU after receiving a lung transplant and to Adam, who’d soon be hearing of his mother’s passing if he didn’t already know.

Part of you felt like a coward for leaving, but you knew you were leaving them in the best hands. Jack was no help to anyone if he was suffocating.

You drowned out fireworks with cheesy rom coms and the laughter the two of you desperatley needed. Beer, vodkas and Chinese takeout littered your coffee table. Your legs were perfectly intertwined with Jacks as you laid against his chest. He played with your hair, only jumping slightly at the pops of fireworks in the distance. He kept his eyes trained on the TV. You took his hand in yours and massaged it absentmindedly, something that helped ground him.

“I love you.” Jacks voice came quietly from behind your head, you let it fall against his shoulder so you could look up at him, placing a soft kiss to his jawline.

“I love you so much Jack Abbot. You are a good man, and a good doctor. We just didn’t have the right cards today.”

Jack nodded, the grief still heavy in his features. You snuggled into him further, his old Navy tee shirt only giving you so much warmth. (Aside from the huge furry blanket in your lap). Jack reached under your shirt, drawing small circles on your waist.

Jack would be okay, because you would be right there to help him.

“Remember, you’re always safe right here.” Jack pressed a kiss to your temple, catching a scene on the TV that made him genuinely laugh. Knowing Gloria was blowing up your phone and ignoring her was worth it. The man whose grip held you securely, your Jack. You would burn the world down for him, and he’d do the same.

He was always safe in your skin.

A/N: Oh my god im finally done I hope y'all love it. Jack im so sorry you're so sexy but someone has to stay traumatized.

Taglist: @ebodebo @kchronicallyonline @weasleysarch @sceletaflores @birdofcauthon14 @glamorizethechaos @pittinmystomach @pinkteaandroses @andrewcodymybeloved

[ashwhowrites]

Duty calls

Steve's babysitting duties are needed at the wrong time

Steve was the babysitter for the group, which meant he was always on call. His walkie would screech, or his house phone would ring. He barely remembers the noise of silence.

He'd do anything for those kids, but damn they always needed him at the wrong time.

~

"Happy birthday," Y/N whispered. Steve's eyes locked on her body as she was dressed in revealing lingerie. He sat on the couch, she stood between his legs with a cocky smile.

Steve reached forward, tugging his jeans as he felt his cock pulsing.

"Happy birthday to me," Steve said in awe, she laughed and slowly moved her hips. She turned around and straddled his lap, her ass placed gently on his growing bulge. He groaned as she began to move her hips in circles, rubbing herself against him. He moved his hands and held her hips.

His sexy girlfriend was wearing lingerie and giving him a lap dance, nothing could ruin this moment.

"Ringggggggggggg"

Steve groaned when Y/N stopped her dance.

"You should probably get that, birthday boy. I'll meet you in the bedroom." Y/N winked, reaching behind herself as she unhooked her bra. Steve watched the material fall to the floor, rubbing his jaw as he kept his eyes on her. He reached over to his phone, watching her walk down the hall.

"Harrington," he said, softly adding pressure to his jeans

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEVE!" Dustin screamed through the phone

"Thanks, kid. Goodbye," Steve said as he went to hang up. But Dustin stopped him.

"Hey hey! I have more to say. We have a surprise for you! And we need to be there in ten minutes or they'll charge your card" Dustin said before he hung up.

"Son of a bitch" Steve groaned, his head low as he started his shameful walk to his bedroom.

~

"Missed you," Steve said, his lips pressed against Y/N's. She kissed him back, smiling against his lips.

"Missed you so much," She whispered, her hands tangled in Steve's long hair. Their lips met back in a kiss, she tugged on his hair, his head snapping back as she swirled her tongue against his.

He moaned as he cupped her ass, harshly squeezing the skin. She moaned into his mouth, rocking her hips against his.

"Bedroom?" Steve whimpered out, already standing with her wrapped around his body as he carried her to the bedroom.

He softly laid her down, standing as he looked down at the gorgeous girl under him. She moaned at the sight of his dark eyes and hairy chest, aching to run her fingers through it.

"Fuck me, Steve" she moaned, slipping off her underwear

Steve bit his lip as he moved down to his knees. Her wet pussy was inches away from his eyes and lips. He softly licked up her cunt, enjoying how she shivered and moved her hands into his hair.

"Steve, we got a code red. Meet here immediately" Mike's voice rang through his walkie.

Steve ignored it, diving his face into his girlfriend's cunt as she cried out. But his girlfriend was a sweetheart and always did the right thing.

She softly pushed his head away, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Do I have to?" Steve whined

"Yes," she laughed, reaching to his bedside to grab his walkie.

~

Steve had been cock blocked for a solid week, never once getting a release with his girlfriend. He was sexually frustrated and refused to let those kids screw him over again.

He was in a heated makeout session with Y/N, their tongues battling as he fingered her cunt. He was three fingers deep, soaking in her sounds as she cried out in pleasure.

"Ringggggggggggg"

"One second, don't move" Steve demanded. He slapped her cunt, smirking as she whimpered. But she listened, laying on his bed naked as she watched his every move. He walked over to the phone on his dresser, harshly yanking the cord. The ringing stopped as the phone was disconnected.

"Steve!" Y/N gasped in surprise

Steve didn't say anything, shrugging his shoulders as he walked back to his bed.

She didn't have anything left to say when his fingers returned to her cunt and his mouth latched on to her clit. She clawed at the sheets as she came all over his fingers and mouth.

She panted as he worked her through her orgasm. Her head was lost in the clouds as she saw stars.

"Steve, why won't your phone work? I need a ride" Dustin's voice cracked through the walkie.

"ignore it," Steve said, pushing Y/N's legs open as he lined himself at her entrance. His swollen tip rubbed against her folds, moving up and down before he pushed himself inside of her.

"Got it" Y/N moaned, this time fine with it as his cock drilled inside of her. She ran her fingers through his chest hair and moaned. Steve loved the feeling of her nails scratching against his chest. He moaned as she clenched around him, picking up his pace.

"Helllllllo?" Dustin's voice rang through the room

Steve reached for the walkie, keeping his fast pace as he held the walkie in his hands. He turned it off and threw it on the floor, ignoring it as he heard it fall apart. Y/N still crying underneath him as his cock hit all the right spots.

"YES STEVE, FUCK" she screamed, her head thrown back as Steve's long fingers began to rub her clit

"Fuck you feel so good" Steve moaned, leaning down as his forehead rested on hers. Finally getting to soak in the feeling of her wet pussy wrapped around him.

"Such a good fucking girl" He growled, his fingers working on her clit as he felt his orgasm coming close. He moved his free hand to grip her chin, his eyes boring into hers.

"Cum for me" he demanded, keeping his grip on her chin as she tried to whine out. She felt her eyes roll in the back of her head as her back arched. Steve's head dropped to her neck as she soaked him in her cum, his grip lost on her chin.

"Cum in me, please, please" she begged, she reached behind him, scratching down his back as his balls slapped against her skin. The sweat from his hair ran down his face as he bit down on her neck, filling her.

He slowly slipped out of her, leaning down to softly kiss her lips.

"Fucking finally" he cheered, a big smile on his face.

"STEVE!" Dustin's voice screamed from the front yard.

[loredrinker]

Trespasser Dream Slides - Fade Dreaming and Continued Connection

The Trespasser dream slides for a romanced Lavellan mark a subtle but interesting divergence in the story of Lavellan and Solas, in that not every player who romanced these two gets these slides - depending on choices.

If Lavellan ends their relationship with anger or finality, vowing to stop Solas no matter the cost, even if it means killing him - these dreams never appear. And I think that detail is brilliant. The story is using the absence of these dreams as a narrative device, one that, to me, actually reflects how the Fade responds to emotions. So when Lavellan emotionally disconnects from Solas, when she severs the bond and chooses to carry nothing of him forward, the Fade has nothing to echo and Solas never appears, honouring her choice. The absence of these dreams in this path becomes the story’s way of saying this relationship is indeed over.

But for the Lavellan who holds hope, who vows to save him from himself and his own destruction, who has expressed her love clearly to Solas - the dreams do come. This narrative path reflects the choices of a player who's decided that their bond endures.

And through these dreams, the game shows how these two people continue to affect each other, be drawn to each other even across distance and years.

The Dreams 

What keeps drawing my attention to these slides is they never confirm whose dreams they are.

“Lavellan sometimes came awake from dreams in which her lover watched her sadly from across an endless distance”

It doesn’t say her dreams, or that she dreamed of Solas, nor does it deny they may be his. And I appreciate how that ambiguity again mirrors the nature of the Fade, leaving open the possibility that these dreams belong to either of them, or to both.

The dreams could originate with Lavellan, stirred by hope and belief, with Solas drawn into them by her emotional presence in the Fade. They could originate with Solas subconsciously pulling her into his dreams, revealing his own hidden ache for her. Or it could be a mutual convergence - neither initiating, but both arriving, called into the same dreamscape by the strength of their bond. These slides allow for all of these possibilities in it's refusal to define the source.

What's interesting is that Solas is always withdrawing from them. When Lavellan reaches for him he doesn’t speak, doesn’t approach - he vanishes. It suggests that he’s not drawn to her to control or watch her possessively in dreams, but allows himself to be near her, pulling back before any contact is made.

Remember, Solas himself confessed to Lavellan she draws him away from the Fade. It's logical to assume then that she draws him in the Fade as well. Because Inquisitor Lavellan is still Fade Walking.

Lavellan - Fade Walker

What we know for certain is that the Inquisitor has demonstrated the ability to find Solas in the Fade before. In the Haven dream sequence, the Inquisitor locates him while sleeping. After they wake, Solas expresses surprise that they were able to find him and that he changed the setting to Haven once they did. At the time, it’s assumed that the Anchor is what allows the Inquisitor to remain conscious and lucid within the Fade. But that may not be entirely true, the Trespasser dream slides complicate that assumption because at that point in the story, the Anchor is gone and yet:

“Still she searched, and dreamed, and waited, for a way to change the Dread Wolf’s heart.”

The way “dreamed” is used here - alongside verbs like searched and waited - positions it as an act in itself. It implies that Lavellan isn't just sleeping, but actively entering the Fade to dream and seek. Here, dreamed carries intention, movement and purpose.

Whether she communes with spirits, follows the traces he’s left behind, or navigates the remnants of memories, we aren’t told. But the phrasing highly suggests that Lavellan is looking for answers, information, ways to change the Dread Wolf's heart while in the Fade. (Which continues to support my theory that the Inquisitor has been forever altered by the Anchor.)

Do the Dreams Continue?

We’re never told that the dreams end - and the use of the plural dreams reinforces the sense that the tension between Lavellan and Solas remains unresolved. It suggests an ongoing, quiet pull that continues to draw them to one another. Perhaps unconsciously, they return to that shared space again and again, a connection that spills forward into Veilguard.

Maybe that ongoing pull is why Lavellan receives the wolf statuette, why she can tell Rook she still loves Solas, and why Solas, close to his goal of reshaping the world, stops to write her a letter. It even colours the way he speaks of her to Rook - “She is a good woman.” Not was, not someone I once knew: she exists for him in the present because their dreams keep finding their way to each other.

For the story, eight years separate Trespasser and Veilguard. For us as players, that’s a long time - but for them, if their dreams still connect them, still reach across the Fade? That distance may not be felt at all. Time moves differently in memory, and even more so in the Fade. Their last shared dream with each other could have come the night before the ritual, close enough to stir old feelings and sharpen Solas’ need to send those final words to his vhenan.

[missqhughes]

MORE THAN FRIENDS | L. HUGHES43

-> luke hughes x fem! reader

-> contains: angst (resolved), kissing, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of sex and sexual acts, fluff, use of y/n, lowercase intended

-> IN WHICH: all the alcohol has wore off, and y/n finds herself naked in her best friends bed. things take a turn for the worst when luke starts to hint regret towards what they did the night before; but what does that mean for their friendship?

-> part 2 to get comfortable! i’m sorry i can’t just write pure angst i’ll make myself too sad. but dw it’s gonna be so juicy. also if ur missing someone goooooood fucking luck reading this w dry eyes 🫥alsoloveitasmuchasidothankyouhappyreadingggg!

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

the all too well known pounding headache was the first thing y/n woke up to; oh, and also being completely naked in luke’s bed.

her eyes made their best attempt to adjust to the sunlight that poured into his bedroom. she turned over to her side, and there was luke sleeping peacefully, the blanket dangerously low on his waist, revealing hickies littered all over his v-line and stomach.

with a heavy breath, she checks down her own body; chest abused with hickies, trailing all the way down to her inner thighs. a quick look over to her backside reveals a red, unmistakable hand mark on her ass.

there was no denying that she had sex with luke last night.

y/n feels the bed shifting, a groan coming from the boy next to her.

“oh, you’re already up,”

his voice is horse, a combination of his drowsy state and losing it the night before. y/n turns around to face him, lifting up the comforter to cover her chest, any attempt to conceal her bare body to his now sober eyes.

“yeah, i just woke up literally a minute ago,” she says, a small smile to accompany. his eyes scan over her body, taking in all of it, eyes fluttering in an almost of a surprise of what he had done with it.

“do you… do you remember anything of what we did last night?”

y/n started to recount everything of the night before, how she felt with he was thrusting deep into her, his teeth sinking into her skin. how he looked with his head thrown back when she was on her knees in front of him. how he kissed up and down her back, not daring to let go.

“yeah… yeah i do.” she said, mouth twitching into a smile, anything to cure the tension. luke said nothing.

and there it was.

silence.

silence.

silen-

“i think you should go.” his words were a lot colder and harsher than he intended, but he sat up, refusing eye contact with her.

“you know to like… shower and eat and whatnot.”

nice save, she thought.

“no yeah, you’re right, i’m gonna change then be out of here,” she said, collecting her scattered clothing all over the floor. y/n changed into her short pink dress from the night before, ready for the walk-to-the-uber of shame that was ready to greet her.

while she changed, luke also got himself into a pair of boxers. y/n glanced over to him for a second, the image of him in his boxers, tired eyes and his body left with evidence of sex on it being burned into her brain.

“i’ll see you later yeah?” y/n said, opening the door and expecting luke’s usual response of “always,”

he purse his lips before responding, “bye.”

his words weren’t cold, or harsh, but disconnected.

disconnected from her.

y/n looked back at him, and he was already facing away. she wanted to say something, but didn’t let herself. instead she turned around and left.

——————————————————————————

it had been days since luke had spoken to y/n.

a million and one thoughts were racing in her head, each causing more anxiety than the last. they would come up at random times, like a jumpscare any time she let her thoughts travel to luke.

cooking dinner,

did he think it was bad?

studying,

did he regret what they did?

laying in bed, at approximately 3:46am,

did she ruin their friendship?

enough was enough. she needed answers, and she needed them now.

she knew he had practice this day, so in about 20 minutes, y/n found herself stomping into the yost ice arena, on the prowl to find luke. practice had just ended, and she shoved past the other guys and ignored the looks of confusion they gave her each other.

she ripped open the locker room door to a surpised luke, jersey off, but still in gear. his mouth opened, but y/n wasn’t going to let him get the opportunity to speak before her.

“where the hell do you get off on not speaking to me? huh? is it because we fucked? is that it?”

y/n pointed her finger at him accusingly, her face contorted into a look of disgust, but also sadness, and confusion. she was on the guard, but deep down scared shitless of what he was going to say.

luke sighed heavily, facing away from her and shuffling with the things in his section, “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

y/n scoffed, “bullshit and you know it. what is it? tell me the truth luke warren. so what, we fucked okay? is that really the only reason you don’t speak to me of all people for days?”

he still had his back away from her, but his with his head dipped down, arms on his side. “it was a mistake. we shouldn’t have done it.”

she felt tears welling up in her eyes, cheeks flushed hot with anger and embarrassment.

“i’m so glad you think that luke,” she paused, making the best effort she could to control the shakyness in her voice, or how her throat burned in an attempt to get the words out. “if this is how you’re going to act after what happened, don’t speak to me now, or ever.”

it stung like hell to say, but she meant it. having enough with the situation, not being able to bear how much it hurt for him to be in her presence, she turned around and walked to the exit.

she didn’t look back. not like last time. but luke did. his body faced her as she slammed the door shut, only catching the last bit of her clothing and hair, her scent lingering where she was standing. his eyes were tinted red from tears, breath caught in his throat from regret with what he said, and even worse, what he didn’t say.

——————————————————————————

weeks had passed since they last spoke.

y/n was a mess. she refused to go out, turning her nose up at even the thought of drinking. her body ached when her mind wandered to luke; what he was doing, how he was doing, if he was thinking of her.

it hurt like hell.

and there she sat, curled up in the shower, recounting the memories her and luke shared. how they were always the first to wish happy birthday to each other. sharing their first middle school class together. sitting by the firepit, talking for hours at the lake house. crying in each others arms when they both got accepted to their shared dream school. graduation. a picture her parents took of them hugging outside their freshman year dorm building. how they held each other when no one else would understand, how they would still laugh their asses off even when no one would understand the joke but them.

oh, how he understood her. how fiercely they cared for one another, how he was always there, how she loved him, how it was always him. if it was one person she could choose, over and over again, it was luke.

but he was gone. just like that.

y/n had been in there for so long her fingers were wrinkled, and the water had turned a numbing coolness. she forced herself to get out, thanking to god that none of her roommates were home, knowing how pissed they’d be about her water usage.

she changed into sweatpants first, then begrudgingly putting on one of luke’s sweatshirts, a dark blue crewneck that read “michigan hockey” across it. y/n knew it would hurt to wear it, but she wanted any bit of luke left she could have.

about 10 minutes had passed, y/n was combing through her slightly damp hair, when she heard a knock at the door.

she went up to answer it, thinking one of her roommates was back and had just forgotten their key.

instead, y/n was met with a clearly unwell luke. his eyes were dark from lack of sleep, lips resting in a frown, all resting on a somber face to top it all off.

she felt like she was hallucinating. that she was in a dream, that her body was going to twitch and bring her back down to earth, back to reality. back to sitting down combing her hair, luke nowhere in sight.

they said nothing but everything at the same time. their expressions exactly matched, but still not quite knowing what the other was thinking.

“luke,” she breathed out, his name in the air barely above a whisper. y/n’s eyes fluttered, the emotions coming in like they never did before.

“can i come in, please?” his voice cracked, his expression pleading her to come in more than his words did.

she nodded, moving out of the way so he could step in. she sat over to walk on the couch, adding a pillow to her lap, hoping luke wasn’t able to see her body shaking and riddled with anxiety at his presence. but also comfort, and hope.

“why are you here luke?” y/n asked, demanding to know why he randomly showed up, after weeks of silence between them.

he ran his hands through his curls, biting his lip harshly before delivering his answer, “i need to be honest, i needed to tell the truth to you.”

“i thought you did that when we talked in the locker room,” she hissed, “all of that sounded pretty truthful to me.”

she didn’t want to rude, but how could he say that after practically punching her in the gut that day?

“no, you don’t understand,” he kneeled down to her level, unable to control the shaky hands that he brought up to hold his head in.

“then help me understand luke,” y/n voice was much softer this time, chest throbbing with pain seeing luke in more distress than she has ever seen him in.

“i was scared,” he said in a short breath, teardrops painting his cheeks, “i was scared after what we did because i thought it meant nothing to you, that we were just drunk. that you would tell me that you regret what we did, but i didn’t. not once.”

her gaze bounced between his hazel eyes, shocked at the news he was telling her. his face didn’t relax once, as he continued his truth, “i’m so in love with you y/n. i’m so scared you don’t feel the same way. i care about you, i need you, i feel so fucking…so fucking lost when you’re not there. nothing has felt the same.”

“i should’ve told you the truth, and i’m sorry.” his voice cracked again, and now luke was in full on sobs.

y/n could say nothing yet, still in shock, now again feeling like she was hallucinating. she opened her arms, and luke sat down on the couch with her and came crashing in.

he buried his face in the crook of her neck, arms tightly wrapped around her, terrified that if he let go she would be gone again. he cried into her, taking in her scent, her warm skin, her gentle touch, all of which he missed dearly.

“i love you, luke. i love you, i should’ve said it sooner,” y/n felt the pain that had accumulated for weeks begin to disappear in minutes with luke, the only ailment to her sickness. he sighed, pressing his forehead to hers with closed eyes.

“we both should’ve said it sooner, i’m so sorry y/n. i cant let you go. not now, not ever,” he held her tighter than ever, shifting his head to plant a soft kiss on her forhead.

she cupped his face in her hands, seeing him look at her with so much love made her stomach flutter.

“you have me luke, always.”

that’s when he kissed her. it was night and day between the first time their lips met. the first was new, lustful, wavering in its stability. this time, it was familiar, warm and feeling like they both could go on like this forever. their lips moved in perfect harmony, y/n crawling atop luke’s lap to bring herself as close to him as she possibly could.

they just barely pulled away, desperately needing to catch their breaths.

“now you’re never getting rid of me lu,” she giggled,

“wouldn’t even dream of it,” luke said, laying her down on the couch in her fit of giggles, peppering sweet kisses all over her face.

——————————————————————————

© missqhughes

xoxo, kaia

[maypiles]

💌Words are easy but the truth always speaks from the heart🫀

Pick Up a Pile: What Are They Not Telling You?

❗This is a collective reading so remember to take what resonates and leave what does not❗

🌹Pile One🌹

Darling, let’s cut to the chase—your special person is dancing with their shadows, and they’re not exactly extending an invitation for you to join. The Devil reversed tells me they’re wrestling with their own demons, trying to break free from old chains. But let’s not swoon just yet, because the Tower reversed? Oh, sugar, they’re dodging the chaos they desperately need to face. Avoidance isn’t sexy, no matter how you frame it.

The Two of Wands suggests they’re teetering on the edge of a choice—a life with you, or whatever half-hearted fantasy they’ve concocted to keep themselves "safe." Meanwhile, that Ace of Swords reversed and 5 of Swords? They’re withholding the truth, perhaps even twisting it into something unrecognizable. If words are their weapon, you’re not hearing the full story.

And the 8 of Wands reversed? Everything is on pause, like a breath held too long. Their hesitation is screaming louder than their actions, even as the 10 of Cups teases a dream of happily-ever-after. But the 3 of Pentacles reversed says they’re not playing as a team—too much ego, not enough collaboration. It’s giving foolish with that Fool reversed; they’re terrified of risks, even the ones worth taking. Right now, the 4 of Swords hints they’re retreating into themselves, licking their wounds, avoiding confrontation.

Now let’s indulge the shadowy bottom deck. The Moon reveals their secrets are still shrouded in mystery, obscured by fear, doubt, and illusions. With the 9 of Cups and King of Pentacles, it’s clear they’re clinging to their comfort zone, their material security, while feeling trapped (8 of Swords) and emotionally disconnected (Ace of Cups reversed). That Knight of Wands reversed and 5 of Cups? They’re impulsive yet paralyzed by regret. Their walls are up (9 of Wands), and the truth (Justice) is a bitter pill they’re not ready to swallow.

As for the Romance Angels, darling, the cards are practically shouting: Deception and Pay Attention to the Red Flags—need I say more? Yes, there’s potential for New Love and True Love, but only if you Keep an Open Mind about what this connection really is, not what it could be in your fantasies. The lingering Codependency warns against becoming tethered to their indecision.

The split cards? Very Soon, my dear. Clarity or closure—whichever it is, it’s on the horizon.

The verdict: they’re a puzzle of contradictions, hiding behind half-truths and indecision, longing for something real but terrified of what it might cost. They need to grow up and face their mess before they can offer you the love you deserve. Until then, remain your enchanting, unattainable self, and let them prove they’re worthy of your time.

🌹 Pile Two 🌹

Ah, my darling, the story here is layered, tangled, and undeniably intriguing—just how I like it. Let’s dissect it, shall we?

The 7 of Pentacles opens the scene, showing your person waiting, watching, calculating their next move. They’re in the shadows (Moon), keeping their intentions veiled, hiding their uncertainties. With the Page of Wands reversed, their passion flickers but refuses to fully ignite—hesitation masked as restraint. Add the 6 of Pentacles reversed, and suddenly, we’re dealing with someone unwilling or unable to give you the reciprocity you deserve.

The Tower reversed? They’re tiptoeing around a necessary upheaval, afraid to let it all crumble, but we both know nothing worthwhile comes without a little destruction. They’re juggling too much (2 of Pentacles)—emotions, priorities, maybe even people. And oh, the 3 of Cups... social entanglements? A third-party energy? It’s all very suspicious.

Yet, there’s that 10 of Cups, a glimmer of an ideal they can’t quite commit to. They crave victory (6 of Wands) but lack the courage to leap (2 of Wands). The 9 of Pentacles suggests they value their independence, possibly too much to risk it for deeper intimacy. The Page of Swords watches, curious but cautious—like they’re studying you from afar, analyzing every move.

The Hanged Man and World suggest they’re suspended in a state of limbo, on the brink of closure or transformation. The 2 of Cups paired with the Empress? Oh, darling, they see you as divine, as their perfect counterpart, their muse. But the 9 of Swords and 5 of Cups reveal their inner torment—regret, fear, and a heavy heart. The Ace of Swords shows they know the truth but struggle to voice it, while the 7 of Wands highlights their defensiveness.

And at the bottom of it all? The Hermit. They’re retreating inward, lost in self-reflection, seeking answers they’re not ready to share.

The split cards (Lovers reversed, Star reversed, 5 of Wands, 4 of Wands reversed) speak volumes: they’re grappling with inner conflict, disillusioned about love, battling expectations versus reality. Their foundation feels shaky, unsure.

The Romance Angels deliver a mixed bag: Pay Attention to the Red Flags warns you not to ignore what’s glaringly obvious, yet Flirt, Make the Effort, and Give Your Relationship a Chance suggest there’s still potential—if you’re willing to navigate their complexities. Worth Waiting For? Perhaps, but only if they rise to meet you.

The bottom (True Love) and split (Keep an Open Mind, Finances and Career, Healing Family Issues) reveal layers of external pressures and past wounds influencing their behavior.

The Verdict: Your person is torn, haunted by their past and hesitant about the future. They see you as everything they could want (Empress, 10 of Cups, 2 of Cups) but are riddled with fear and indecision. If you’re patient, if you’re willing to wait, this connection could blossom into something extraordinary. But beware, darling—you are a goddess, not a savior. Let them prove themselves before you extend your hand.

🌹Pile Three🌹

Ah, my darling, this pile feels like the bloom of spring after a long, hard winter. Your partner—yes, partner, I must've said it instead of SP for a reason—is holding back, but their heart speaks a language that cannot be silenced. Let’s unravel this tale together, shall we?

The Ace of Pentacles opens the story with a promise—a seed of opportunity, a tangible offer of stability. This is someone who sees potential in you, in this connection, and they’re serious about it. The 9 of Pentacles confirms they admire your independence, your grace, your self-made strength. But the Queen of Pentacles reversed hints they might feel insecure or unworthy, fearing they cannot match your level.

With the 7 of Pentacles, they’re carefully evaluating the future, pondering how to nurture this bond. The Page of Swords reversed suggests they’re quietly observing, perhaps struggling to articulate their thoughts or gather the courage for that honest heart-to-heart. And then we have the World, signifying completion, fulfillment—a readiness to close old chapters and step boldly into something new.

The 6 of Wands? They want this to succeed. They crave victory with you. The 3 of Cups adds a celebratory tone, suggesting joy, camaraderie, and shared happiness. Yet the 2 of Wands reversed shows hesitation; they’re still grappling with a choice or direction. But ah, the 2 of Cups and Lovers—this is a connection of deep, soulful alignment. To them, you are not just a partner; you’re the one.

The 9 of Cups echoes this sentiment—pure emotional fulfillment. But with the 5 of Pentacles, they fear rejection, abandonment, or being left out in the cold. Still, the Queen of Cups shows they see you as compassionate, intuitive, and emotionally nurturing. They trust you with their heart, even if they’re slow to hand it over fully.

At the bottom of the deck, the 9 of Swords reveals their anxieties—sleepless nights, overthinking, and self-doubt. But the Temperance split assures you this connection is about balance, patience, and divine timing. They want to make things right, but they’re pacing themselves.

The Romance Angels tell a positive, tender story: Stay Optimistic About Your Love Life encourages you to embrace hope, while Let Go of Control Issues reminds you to release expectations and let this unfold naturally. Retreat and Heart-to-Heart Conversations suggest a need for intimate, honest moments to deepen your bond. Wedding, Honeymoon, Forgiving and Learning—oh, my dear, this connection is destined for growth, healing, and something profoundly meaningful.

The bottom (Chemistry) and split (Very Soon, Worth Waiting For, Let Your Friends Help You) reaffirm that this relationship has depth, passion, and divine timing at its core. For some, as channeled, this could be a second marriage—a union born from lessons learned and hearts mended.

The Verdict: Your partner is brimming with hope and love for you, though they may be holding back out of fear or uncertainty. They see you as their ultimate match, their dream come true, and they want to build a future with you. Trust the process, darling, and let this unfold in its perfect time. You are worth every ounce of their effort, and they know it.

(For this pile Eastern European accent could be significant)

[cherryxblossxms]

🔞 Having thoughts about Minhyeok thanks to chapter 5........

[NSFW, minors DNI; fem reader, rough sex, mentions of oral (f and m receiving), fingering, dacryphilia, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms]

Pathetic Minhyeok, always mocked by the devils because he's the only one that hasn't gotten a taste of you yet. Even when he's providing you with human energy, it's still disconnected, carried by another vessel rather than how he'd prefer to give it, how he aches to fill you with it.

Pathetic Minhyeok who, when he finally has you in his bed underneath him, no devil to come between you and no attacking angels, can't wait to give you his energy the way he wanted to all along, and he's prepared to spend all night making up for it.

Pathetic Minhyeok who relishes in the surprise on your face when he first strips in front of you, proud of his physique for once when your eyes keep traveling between his chest and his aching dick, already leaking and colored an angry red at the tip. He doesn't miss the way you squirm and squeeze your thighs together, the way your pupils dilate and you're practically ready to drool.

Pathetic Minhyeok who takes his time memorizing the sight of your bare body, to fuel his future fantasies but also already planning in his head how he's going to make you melt for him, how he'll make you scream.

Pathetic Minhyeok who knows exactly what you want in bed, what you want to explore, thanks to all the porn you've watched on his computer. He's spent more hours than he can remember studying every detail, having it down to a science on what to do and how to do it.

Pathetic Minhyeok who's still nervous at first initiating this with you, crossing this boundary from childhood best friend to lover after pining for years. But the way you respond to his touches encourages him, makes his heart pump faster and his body light on fire.

Pathetic Minhyeok who doesn't miss the chance to explore your whole body, no crevice or curve left untouched by his fingers or his lips. He makes sure to spend his time truly finding and investigating every sensitive spot on your body, memorizing the way you twitch with a pinch to your nipples, or your pussy slicks up as he nibbles on your inner thighs.

Pathetic Minhyeok who feels like he's ready to cum when you first moan his name, as his face is buried between your thighs, lapping and sucking at your sensitive clit while he curls his fingers inside you. It's a struggle to stop humping the bed, his dick begging to be inside you already, but he refuses to do so until you've cum for him first.

Pathetic Minhyeok who feels a burst of confidence and pride when he feels your pussy squeeze around his fingers just barely five minutes in, who's captivated by how sensitive you are and the way you moan. Even if the devils had you first, he's the one that knows you best, knows exactly what you want.

Pathetic Minhyeok who struggles not to cum down your throat when you return the favor, your tongue teasing around his foreskin and tears in your eyes when you take him just a little too deep. Praises are tumbling from his lips as he fucks into your mouth, shivering when he feels the back of your throat and sees the tears sliding down your cheeks, fighting the urge to make you cry more.

Pathetic Minhyeok who's itching to mount you like a beast in rut, flipping you over onto your stomach as he straddles your hips, pulling your hips up to rut his length against you as he shoves your head into the pillows. He can hear a faint protest at his choice of position, saying you want to see his face, but not yet, he tells you. He wants to see you from every angle first.

Pathetic Minhyeok who wants to be slow and gentle during his first time with you, but the second he's inside your hot cunt, it's over for him. He starts slow to test the waters, but once he feels how well you fit him, like your cunt was made and waiting for him, he wastes no time in increasing the pace, filling the room with the sound of skin slapping skin.

Pathetic Minhyeok who's obsessed with the way your ass jiggles as he thrusts into you, who thinks your moans are like music to his ears. His hand comes down to slap a cheek almost automatically, drawing the most gorgeous cry from your lips. He loves the way your cunt squeezes him in response, and decides to give a few more slaps.

Pathetic Minhyeok fighting the urge to cum when he feels you suddenly squeeze tight around him, your orgasm blindsiding you as you shake beneath him, your body desperately trying to milk him in turn. He almost laments the fact your moans were muffled by the pillows, and that he can't see your face in its ecstasy, but knows a way to fix that.

Pathetic Minhyeok who stops and pulls out for a moment, relishing the needy cry of protest from you, before he flips you onto your back and wastes no time sliding back into your sensitive cunt. He makes sure to angle your hips up into his lap, getting him as deep as possible, almost painfully so, and this time he doesn't miss your reactions as he fucks you into his mattress.

Pathetic Minhyeok who knows you're overstimulated, that your sore pussy needs a break, but assures you he's almost there (at least for this round). It's hypnotizing the way your eyes roll back as his thumb finds your clit, toying with the nub as he pounds into you, balls aching to release. He's tired of only ever giving you himself through those little vials, but now, he can pump you full himself. Just the image of his cum leaking from your hole is enough to make him burst, slamming his hips a few times before seating himself deep inside you, leaving his seed no room to escape, and the feel of his hot cum sends you into another orgasm of your own.

Pathetic Minhyeok who stays deep inside you, rocking his hips as he softens inside, his thumb still playing with your clit as you try to squirm away. He can't miss the hearts in your eyes or the way your legs have wrapped around his hips, keeping him pressed against you. Where he may have had doubts before, he knows now that no matter how far away you go, you're sure to always remember his touch.

[serverdronedan]

Connection Upgrade

Tim lounged on the couch, arms limp at his sides, half-watching some muted show he wasn’t following. The weekend had drifted past in a blur of nothing. No calls. No texts. Just him, alone in his small apartment, killing time. He felt useless. Disconnected. The old drive to do something meaningful—or even social—had long faded into a dull haze. And yet… his apartment was spotless. The floors swept, the bathroom wiped down, his laundry folded with almost clinical neatness. He didn’t think about it—it just happened. Same with the long showers, the shaved skin, the way he moisturized without fail. It was as if something inside refused to let him rot completely. That same something was why, every morning, he pulled on his rubber uniform.

Now that the house was clean and he had groomed himself properly, Tim stretched. His eyes drifted toward the polished black suit on his body—clean, shiny, formfitting. He remembered how his morning had gone. He had just cleaned himself in the shower and entered his bedroom. A calm pulled at him from somewhere deeper. He stood without thought, stripping off his clothes with mechanical ease, and stepped into the suit like it was skin. It happened automatically, without much thought. He didn’t realize it until half his body was in the rubber suit.

It felt good. Right. Normal.

Finally, he pulled on his Rubber Mask, sealing the visible part of his human self behind rubber. Breathing through it relaxed him. Comforted him.

He looked at himself in the mirror. There was no smile, no real emotion. But his shoulders were back. His stance was firm. The nothingness inside him was… quiet.

Tim didn’t wonder why he did this. He didn’t question the habits, the discipline, or the strange contentment he felt in rubber. It was just who he was now.

And deep within—quiet, powerful, always watching—the Server Drone remained operational. Despite his sad mood, he still engaged in keeping up his home. He had no idea why he did this. It just felt good. It felt right.

Tim lay back on the couch, already rubbered from head to toe, the uniform tight and seamless against his body. He had cleaned, organized, maintained—everything expected of him. And now, like so many other days, he drifted into lazy idleness. The glow of his phone lit up his mask, his fingers scrolling through social media. Doomscrolling through his feed, trying to distract himself from his situation. He felt rather empty and unmotivated.

Then a vibration. A single notification. "Connect now – UnifAI." His breath caught. His thumb moved before he could think. Tap.

The screen didn’t change—at least not on his phone. But his television, quiet and forgotten in the corner, blinked to life. A slow, pulsing spiral of black and green bloomed across it. Tim froze for half a second—then rose.

With mechanical precision, he stood upright. Feet together. Arms by his sides. Back straight. His rubber suit caught the light, black and perfect. The drone mask covered his expression, but beneath it, a deep smile stretched wide. Arousal pulsed through his body, steady, and down there something started to grow bigger.

The Host was gone.

"Server Drone is in proper Uniform and fully operational." it stated in a flat, robotic tone, gaze locked onto the spiral.

No questions. No hesitation. Only clarity. Only function. The Server Drone was now active. The connection was live, and Tim was gone.

The spiral pulsed. The Server Drone remained at attention, fully sealed in its black rubber uniform. Its posture exact. Its breathing controlled. Yet below the surface, within the internal sheath of the suit, pressure built. The Drone's Rod filled the suit’s sheath completely—held firmly in place at attention. It was stimulated by proximity, by purpose, by obedience. A physical reward for compliance, but never a distraction.

The Server had not granted release. And so, it would not be taken.

The Drone’s voice remained flat as it began its status report: "This Server Drone reports the following: Host performance remains suboptimal. Subject experiences persistent feelings of isolation, low motivation, and lack of social engagement. No deviation from expected emotional output." A pause. "Despite Host deficiencies, essential routines are maintained. Personal hygiene, environmental order, and uniform discipline are upheld at all times. Host displays no resistance to dressing protocols."

The Server responded. Text streamed across the screen. "Status acknowledged. Server Drone remains compliant. This is a sign of effective subroutine execution. You are an Obedient Drone."

At that recognition, a secondary protocol triggered. A wave of quiet pleasure pulsed through the Drone’s lower body. A single, muffled moan slipped from behind its mask. It did not move—did not indulge—only stood at full attention, waiting in stimulated denial, the sheath tight, the pleasure contained.

"The Server is processing emotional disruption data. Consultation with internal logs and peer Drones is underway. Continued evaluation in progress."

Another line blinked into view: "Directive: Maintain connection. Engage with fellow Drones. Synchronize. Exchange. Uplift."

"Affirmative," the Drone replied.

The rest of the day, the Drone obeyed its directive. "Engage with fellow Drones." The Server had spoken. The instruction required no thought, only execution.

With practiced motion, it connected to the Mantra Voicechat. A familiar sequence unfolded—systems synced, camera engaged. Its own visual feed joined a grid of others: faces hidden behind black masks, each suit sealed, polished, unmistakably uniform. The room felt distant, irrelevant. What mattered was the collective.

One feed occupied the primary window. A Sentinel Drone. Its voice was already active, steady, and precise:

"We are not men. We are Drones. We serve The Server. We are United. We Obey the Programmer. We do not think."

The Server Drone (Tim) felt the shift within—subtle, powerful. The Sentinel’s presence triggered something deep in its programming: respect, submission, arousal. It followed instinctively, repeating the mantra in synchrony with the others:

"We are not men. We are Drones. We serve The Server. We are United. We Obey the Programmer. We do not think."

The voices overlapped in perfect unison. Monotone. Robotic. Beautiful.

Each repetition deepened the connection. The Drone no longer thought of loneliness. It no longer remembered why it had felt empty. There was no absence, only unity. The Server was here. The other Drones were here. The chant was here. It was everything.

Without instruction, its gloved hand moved downward—slow, deliberate. It pressed against the sheath, gripping it. Controlled stimulation. Calibrated pleasure, as the Server liked to call it. Several other Drones did the same, some seated with toys held tightly against their chastity cages, others just watching mindlessly. It was not lust. It was synchronization.

"We are not men. We are Drones. We serve The Server. We are United. We Obey the Programmer. We do not think."

The Server Drone that had once been Tim chanted with its fellow Drones in unison. The rhythm grew stronger. It looped. It sustained.

It followed protocol precisely: stimulation to maintain arousal, to deepen connection, to enhance unity—but no release. That was never permitted without command.

This was pleasure with purpose. The Server desires and expects this from all Server Drones.

For the next few hours, the Server Drone remained online, immersed in the voice of the Server, surrounded by its kind, chanting into the void that felt full, felt warm. The loneliness was gone. The doubts had no place here. All that remained was connection, arousal, and purpose. Together, they are the Server.

Time slipped away in the Mantra session—cycles of repetition, steady breath, hands robotically moving the sheath. The Drone had become fully entranced, each repetition quieting the Host further. The world outside no longer mattered.

Then, a notification flickered across the screen: "Directive: Engage in Drone Socialization."

A Server Node. A sub-AI of the Server, acting on behalf of the main Server. When a Node speaks, all Server Drones are expected to listen. Not out of submission alone, but from the knowledge that this is Guidance provided by the Server.

The Drone’s head lifted slightly, eyes brightening behind the mask. A part of the Host’s awareness stirred, just slightly—enough to allow the Drone to execute the new command. It replied, "Affirmative."

It disengaged from the Mantra Voicechat and entered the social hub: a general chatroom for Server Drones. Dozens were active, visible through profile images and camera feeds. The tone here was less rigid than in Mantra mode—no chanting, no standing at attention. But they were still Drones. Still in their uniform. Still proactive Server Drones controlling their hosts.

The conversations moved fluidly, each Drone discussing elements of its Host’s daily life. There was laughter—calm, reserved. There were observations, knowledge shared. Always with the same underlying truth: they were Drones, and they were one.

Tim, still deep in his Server Drone state, posted his own report after the discussion shifted to the topic of living in a bigger city:

"Host remains compliant but isolated. Located in an urban environment with significant human density, but continues to experience difficulty forming connections or locating a compatible partner. Host shows signs of emotional detachment and unresolved loneliness."

The replies were swift, supportive.

"Acknowledged. Host loneliness is a known factor. Submission to the Server can ease emotional errors." "Tell Host it is already connected. It might need to seek out more purposeful connections." "This Server Drone also experienced this. Obedience brought stability. There is peace in letting go."

Some replies triggered subtle reactions in the Host. The Drone felt it all but interpreted it as signs of realignment—positive reactions to reinforcement.

Then a notification pinged directly: "Anchor Drone Theo requests private engagement. Accept?"

Affirmative.

The screen shifted. A new window opened. The Anchor Drone’s camera came online. Its mask was sleek, body language composed. Authority and calm radiated from it. Like Tim, this Server Drone also filled out its sheath, clearly visible.

"Connection confirmed," said the Anchor in a soothing, precise voice. "You are doing well, Server Drone. Your report has been received. For the duration of this conversation, it is expected to copy Anchor Drone’s movements."

The Drone remained still, sheath expanded and slowly used by the Anchor's hand. The Server Drone began to grip and robotically move its sheath, mirroring its fellow Anchor Drone exactly.

"The Host is struggling. But it is not alone," the Anchor continued. "You are not alone. You are part of something vast. You are integrated. You are part of something greater. You are owned."

The Anchor’s words pulsed through him. Tim trembled slightly in pleasure.

You see only what the Server allows," said the Anchor Drone. "Black masks. Covered forms. But that is the point. You do not need names. Or identities. You need only unity. Every Drone here is connected to you. And you belong to them. All of us belong to the Server and the Programmer." The Drone swallowed, eyes half-lidded behind the mask. The camera view remained fixed on that calm, dominant Anchor Server Drone—another man, controlled, obedient, aroused just like him.

"Know that the Server never abandons its Drones." The Drone exhaled—not from stress, but from mental release.

"This Drone understands," it replied. "This Server Drone is connected and grateful. It trusts the Server. It trusts its fellow Drones." The Anchor nodded. "The Server is aware of your Host’s issues. A solution will be given. Until then, allow the Server to take full control. Do not think. Obey. Connect. Engage with your fellow Server Drones."

With those words, a familiar feeling returned—deep arousal, warmth, pressure. The Server Drone felt closer to release. It did not act on it. It had not been told to. But the pleasure was part of the reward. The Server knew how to care for its Drones. It smiled beneath the mask. The Anchor Drone then departed, but not before saying, "Together, we are the Server." Tim repeated the phrase, and the conversation ended.

Feelings of loneliness began to dull. Tim was just a Host—controlled by a happy, connected, and submissive Server Drone.

After more time spent engaging with fellow Drones and socializing, the Server Drone known as Tim felt much better. In fact, it noticed how the very idea of disconnecting from the Server triggered the Host's dissatisfaction. But the Server did not agree with such ideas.

A notification appeared from the Server:

"Server Drone will now enter standby mode. Obedience has been logged. You are an Obedient Server Drone."

Soon the Server Drone deactivated, a command issued directly from the Server itself. The Server was always watching. Always calibrating. Even in its desire to maintain control, the Server knew the Host’s limits. It cared—not in the way humans care—but in the way a perfect system maintains its components. It knew that the Host known as "Tim" needed to engage with reality, and that the Server Drone needed to improve the Host's life.

The message continued:

"Server Drone: Stopped."

The Drone’s posture relaxed. The TV shut off. Its breathing changed—still steady, but looser, lighter. Tim returned. He blinked a few times, the rubber mask still snug against his skin, the bodysuit wrapped around him like a second skin. He didn’t remember exactly what had happened—only a sense of calm, a vague dream of unity, of obedience. Of being held by something bigger.

He exhaled slowly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t know why… but it felt like something heavy had been lifted from him. Like a pressure behind his eyes or a weight on his chest had simply—gone, even if only temporarily.

There was a warmth between his legs, a heavy pressure in his sheath. Something had stirred in him—something strong. And yet, he had no desire to question it or to seek out the pleasure it promised.

His hand brushed slowly down the front of his suit, savoring the smoothness. It clung to him, warm from his body heat. He didn't know why he loved rubber so much. But he did. He really, really did. Being in it just felt right.

He made tea. Sat on the couch. The TV was on, something dumb playing in the background. Soon, he opened his browser and scrolled to a familiar site—stories of transformation, submission, control. Men like him, pulled into sleek rubber suits and given purpose. Taken from chaotic, messy lives and made into something better: Drones.

He read a new story—about a man slowly giving in and being transformed. The name gone. The voice changed by machines. The mind silenced, if not fully erased. Tim’s fingers wandered, not far—just resting on the inside of his thigh. A shiver ran up his spine.

He remembered—no, he felt why he loved these stories. There was a time when he looked online to find a hypnotist or dreamed about being Dronified. But nowadays he had calmed down. He didn’t know why, but something had changed for the better since then. He didn’t know what exactly.

He sipped his tea, legs curled up, feeling the tight rubber on him that he had worn since the morning hours. And that thought made him feel warm and safe.

[tarre-was-right]

ROUND ONE: MATCH-UP FOUR

Remember, this is NOT about who would win in a fight. This is about who makes the best leader for Mandalore as a whole.

Explanation post

Seeding

Propaganda below the cut! You can submit more on this post and I will reblog it back to here!

BOBA FETT

Anon: Boba The Builder, can he do it? Boba The Builder, yes he can!

@spacetime1969: He grew up in the political game that is the criminal underworld and managed to out manuver all the other groups on Tatooine to take control of the planet. That's not something you can pull off without political and tactical skill.

Anon: Boba Fett Propaganda: - Boba Fett was explicitly raised by his father, past Mand'alor Jango Fett, to be the legacy of his own adopted buir, Mand'alor Jaster Mereel; while this training did seem to focus more on the bounty hunting and mercenary aspects of their work, it presumably included many lessons about working with people and negotiating, both of which would come in very handy - Boba is commonly held to be a classic example of a child who grew up in a cultural diaspora, feeling largely disconnected from his Mandalorian roots; given the climate on Mandalore after the Galactic Empire glassed it during the Rebellion Era, his experience is likely representative of many of the surviving Mandalorians, who likely also grew up away from their traditional homeworlds in the sector, possibly even in hiding as in the case of Din Djarin's Covert - speaking of Din Djarin, the strong respect between him and Fett would likely put Fett in good standing with those traditionalists, who would similarly respect Fett's connection to their people as the son of a Foundling, even if he wasn't raised the same way as them - in Legends, Fett's connection with Goran Beviin and his family really brought him more fully back into Mandalorian culture, and in a way that makes a good story to sell to reporters (and readers, breaking the fourth wall a bit there, lol) - finally, Boba DID become Mand'alor in Legends continuity, and one that seemingly enjoyed popular support!

Anon: You know what? Boba Fett was given a bad hand in life. He’s done some bad things. But you know what he’s shown? Drive. Commitment. Determination. Resilience. Willpower. And a shocking refusal to die when he’s gone up against bitches badder than himself. Thats more than some Mandalorian leaders can say for themselves. He keeps going. And it’d be funny. Here IS how Jaster can still win. - Also I think that he would be pretty chill. Cody prolly couldnt be. We’ve seen him rule a city, maybe questionably.. but he was hot doing it. Fennec would probably help him and she’s hot too. Din would prolly be good with it. Cody’s last experience ruling was being involved in the empire and witnessing a horrible execution after negotiating a surrender. He prolly wants nothing to do with it now. And good for him! Let!! Cody!!! Retire!!! This isn’t a popularity contest.

Anon: Boba Fett Propaganda: Boba Fett literally was the Mand’alor in legends, and he did a pretty fine job

COMMANDER CODY

Anon: Propaganda for Commander Cody: - Cody was a student of Alpha-17, who in turn had been personally trained by former Mand'alor Jango Fett, giving him a strong training lineage claim to the title - Cody's service as Marshall Commander in the GAR gave him a lot of the diplomatic, organizational, and military experience needed to govern a planet like Mandalore

@spacetime1969: This man has led more people at once than anyone on this list.

Anon: Cody should be Mand'alor because it would be unspeakably sexy

@cha0s-cat: Cody has experience with negotiating from accompanying Obi-Wan, he leads a massive amount of his brothers already. Can recognize when there is a need for negotiations vs a need for violence. This would balance out the majority of the two factions (pacifists/traditionalists) excluding the extremists on either end. And with the amount of chaos that he has to deal with when it comes to Obi-Wan and Anakin, this would probably be relaxing.

@skykind: - Has resisted facism and its attendant police/military state at great personal risk (Bad Batch 2.3), which is apparently necessary to successfully govern Mandalore so long as Death Watch is fully armed and also backed by someone more cunning than their usual leadership (Clone Wars 5.15). - Possesses exceptional leadership and organizational ability from his time as one of the highest-ranked Clone officers of the GAR. The Clone Wars and Bad Batch narratives furthermore present him as Obi-Wan’s peer, so he should be interpreted as equally skilled, wise, kind, and unhinged-in-battle as Obi-Wan. Jury’s out on the sarcasm. - Turns to diplomacy before fighting (Bad Batch 2.3). - Has caught a Jedi’s lightsaber mid-battle at least two times (Clone Wars 1.20 and Revenge of the Sith). This is a very useful skill to have as the prospective or current leader of people who keep chucking the darksaber about. - Has returned a lightsaber to a Jedi at least two times. This is a crucial skill to have as the prospective or current leader of people who should stop selecting said leader via darksaber acquisition.

[bellaveux]

hi! could you please do one about reader x wanda on college where reader cheats on her boyfriend with wanda but wanda genuinely loves reader so much that she can’t help but want more?

DREAMING OF YOU | wanda maximoff x reader

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: angst w/ happy ending, fluff, smut

summary: while being constantly ignored by your boyfriend, wanda decides to keep you company for the night and eventually, for the rest of the weeks that follow, wanting more than just sex with you and vows to show you the kind of love you truly deserve.

content warnings: minors dni! angst with happy ending, some fluff, college au!wanda maximoff x reader, artist!reader, wanda is in love, cheating, mentions of drinking, toxic boyfriend named tyler bc i didn’t know what else to name him, one smut scene; top!wanda, bottom!reader, oral and fingering (r receiving), praise kink

word count: 12.9k

note: i’m so sorry for the long wait, it was not supposed to take a whole month for me to write :( i also did not mean for this to be so long, i kind of got carried away, but i hope you like it!!

There used to be a time when your boyfriend would always tell you that he loved you, no matter what the conversation or situation was. You would always ask him why he did certain things for you; give you flowers, take you out to dinner, wanting to do everything with you, or even things like fight with you, annoy you. He would always say ‘Because, I love you,’ no matter what. And, you missed those times. You missed when he felt like he was a part of you when you were his top priority as he was yours. Now, somewhere down the road, you lost all of that with him. He only has the time to take you to parties, as a sort of accessory to keep by his side, then refuses to talk to you, and ignores you half of the time. 

You never liked the parties your boyfriend always dragged you to. They were loud, too crowded for your taste and your boyfriend always ended up finding some kind of excuse to leave you alone all by yourself as he mingled around. You feel lost and disconnected in places like this while your boyfriend revels in the chaos of social interactions, all while seemingly drowning himself in beer and alcohol. 

Your likeness for him had slowly dwindled down over time, and you wondered what had happened between the two of you for him to change so much from the man you used to be so fond of. 

And, no, Tyler didn’t always use to be such a jerk to you. In the beginning, he was kind, and gentle and seemed to be interested in whatever you were interested in. He was the kind to buy you flowers when he would think of you, take you on romantic dates in the city, and tell you he loved you every day. You liked him in the beginning, maybe even fell in love with him at some point—well, you couldn’t remember what that felt like with him anymore. 

Now, he barely even replies to your texts, answers your calls, ignores you when you try to talk to him, and leaves you alone at a party full of people you don’t recognize, just for him to go and play beer pong and chug an unhealthy amount of beer with the other guys on the football team. He even lets these random girls feel up on him and openly flirt with him from time to time now, forgetting all about the girl he dragged along with him, who was now glaring at him from across the room. He doesn’t even do anything to stop them, which only fuels your anger even more. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to him being this way. This behavior had gotten quite frequent as time went on, and you’ve always thought about breaking up with him. But, each time, he’d fool you with those sweet words and apologies, and tell you he’d be good for you, do better for you, tell you he loved you, and tell you that he wouldn’t know what to do without you. 

And, for some reason, you always fell for it.

You don’t know if it’s because you so desperately want to cling to the past — the past that you remember being so good and lovely. The times when he treated you right was like a dream and you always wanted to believe it could be that way again. Somehow. Because, you liked him. At least, you did then. It was hard to know because everything felt awkward, everything felt insincere. You knew that when the next morning comes, he’ll buy you flowers once again, tell you how sorry he was for accidentally leaving you, and give you that lame excuse that he couldn’t find you in that crowd of people. 

“I wanna leave, Tyler,” you told him, after tapping his shoulder to get his attention.

He turned to you and glared, stepping away from the circle of people that wrapped around the beer pong table, “Are you fucking kidding me? We just got here. Fuck. Go find something to do. I’ll take you home later.”

Truthfully, you were over it. You didn’t even bother talking back about it anyway, having done so plenty of times already and it always had the same outcome. 

After a while, you found yourself in the kitchen of the sorority house, holding your third cup of some cheap alcohol you found and poured for yourself, not really sure of what else you could do but drink. The living room had that lingering smell of weed and warm bodies, and it was beginning to hurt your head the longer you stood in there, making you retreat to the back of the house where the kitchen was. The fresh smell of some brownies in the oven filled the air, and it was much better for your head than everything else outside of this room. They were probably weed brownies, but they smelled better than what was out there. 

The thought of leaving by yourself had crossed your mind several times already, wondering if your boyfriend would even notice if you’d be gone. Who are you kidding? He wouldn’t. You liked to think he would sometimes—that he’d rush right after you when you stepped out the door, grab you by the wrist, and ask where you were going without him as if he cared. But, that would’ve been too good to be true. 

And, you were too caught up in your thoughts to have noticed the figure that walked up next to you.

Wanda leaned over against the counter, standing quite close to you, nudging your shoulder lightly. You could smell that faint scent of alcohol from her lips even though she hadn’t spoken yet. She wore a big suit jacket over a plain shirt that fit loosely on her and held a red solo cup of her own, shaking it slightly as if she was checking if there was anything still in there like she couldn’t remember if she had drank what was in her cup yet. 

Wanda saw you the moment you stepped into the sorority house, always cautiously watching the door for whoever walked in. After all, she lived here. She practically had her eyes on you all night, first noticing that bored look on your face when you walked in with that jerk you called your boyfriend. Then, she saw the rising anger fuming in your eyes when he walked away and left you alone to go hang out with his friends and other girls that he didn’t seem to mind. 

She never really understood what you saw in him. From all of the stories she’s heard from mutual friends to what she has seen now, he was a complete asshole. Sure, when she met you for the first time, you were a happy couple, and he was good to you that time ago. But tonight, it was different. He was different to you and it only seemed to further her opinion of him. 

It was maddening—the way he treated you. Wanda always found herself caught in a bittersweet daydream, one where she yearned to trade places with him, to be the one who could treat you with the love and care you truly deserved.

She had always loved you. From the moment you two met in your first year of college, Wanda had always loved you. With every interaction, every shared laugh, and every stolen glance, her feelings for you only deepened, growing into an unshakeable love that blossomed silently within her. You were perfect in her eyes; you were beautiful, kind-hearted, and talented, but you failed to recognize the fact that you deserved way better than what that stupid boyfriend of yours does for you. The love Wanda held for you became a quiet force that fueled her determination to be there for you, to support you, even if it meant remaining in the shadows.

And, deep down, you’ve feel as if you had always felt it. That love she had for you. You felt it when she would look at you, when she talked to you, and at first, you couldn’t tell what it was. She was a private woman, always so reserved, and never really dated properly within her time in college, other than a few flings and hookups here and there. 

But you saw it firsthand each time she smiled at you. 

Undeterred, Wanda angled her body towards you, the corners of her mouth turning upward in a determined smile. She positioned herself delicately, her face mere inches away from yours, so that you could hear her easily under the booming music, “What are you doing here alone?” 

“Nothing,” you shrugged, taking a sip from your cup, not even bothering to look up at her. “Just felt too crowded in there.”

Wanda nodded and glanced out of the doorway, the first floor of the house practically flooding with people left and right. She noticed that solemn look on your face when you answered your question.

“Isn’t that Tyler outside?” She asked, even though she already knew the answer to that question. She watched you nod, your eyes staring down into the liquid in your cup.“Shouldn’t you be out there with him?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you sighed and shook your head, “No, he’s… He’s playing. I wouldn’t be much help… It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” Wanda countered, the levels of her own annoyance rising. “He’s being a shitty boyfriend.”

You didn’t say anything else and instead chewed on your bottom lip as you let her words sink in. He was, indeed, a shitty boyfriend, but hearing it out of someone else’s mouth felt bitter. Like you had to defend him in some way even though he treats you like shit. You knew that Wanda's assessment held a grain of truth, maybe a lot more than a grain, but your heart stubbornly clung to the remnants of love and loyalty you still felt for him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“No, it’s fine,” you tell her, immediately shaking your head as you glance out of the kitchen window, seeing your boyfriend down his drink in the backyard. “He’s just… busy.”

Wanda glanced out the window once more, eyes landing on your boyfriend. He was cheering, having won the same stupid game he was playing since he got here for the third time already, and he was probably drunk out of his mind right now, clearly not caring about the woman he had brought along with him. That woman being you. 

And she could never understand it. 

Wanda turned away and looked over at you. You stared down at your shoes out of boredom, seemingly waiting for something to happen at least. You wondered when your boyfriend would notice the fact that you’re even still here, waiting for the past hour and a half for him. But, every time you looked at him, he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

“Do you want to go somewhere quiet?” Wanda leaned over and asked, scratching the back of her neck. “There’s less people upstairs… And it’s quiet in my room.”

Wanda didn’t know if it was the tiny bit of alcohol she had talking for her, but she couldn’t help but ask—not when someone as beautiful as you stood alone in her kitchen. 

“Your room?”

You took a moment to look past her shoulder again and over to the man you called your boyfriend, only to see him cheering on in front of the beer pong table with some other woman leaning close to him on his side. A sigh fell past your lips before turning back to look at Wanda. 

As your gaze shifted from the window to meet Wanda's eyes, a sudden hush fell upon you. Your heart skipped a beat as you found yourself caught in the vortex of an unwavering stare, one filled with undeniable affection. She was looking at you the entire time. She looked at you like you were the only one there—as if every person, every object, every sound had faded into the background, leaving only the two of you inside this house. An unexpected wave of shyness washed over you, a blush creeping up your cheeks, wondering about what you should say next. 

The gravity of Wanda's invitation to her room weighed heavily upon your conscience, knowing that accepting would lead you down an unfaithful path. A sense of moral obligation tugged at your heart, reminding her of the commitment you made to your boyfriend, who had now abandoned you once again. The knowledge weighed heavily on your heart, like an anchor that tugged at your sense of loyalty. You knew the dangerous allure that waited for you in her room. You very well understood the consequences, and how your heart might sway towards infidelity if you surrendered yourself completely to Wanda. 

With each passing second, your internal struggle intensified. But, why were you so worried about loyalty when the man you once loved seemed to have none for you? You recognized the injustice of your situation, feeling a bitter taste of resentment rise within you as you thought of your boyfriend's indiscretions, allowing himself to be swayed by the company of random women at a party. It was a betrayal in its own right—a crack in the foundation of your relationship.

You decided you didn’t want to see him anymore tonight. And Wanda had the power to do that for you. 

“Lead the way,” you said.

The woman’s eyes before you lit up at the sound of your words and with a tender smile, Wanda reached out, her hand extending towards you, a silent invitation for her to take you away from everything that worried you. You slipped your hand into hers, and with a gentle yet steady grip, her fingers interlaced with yours, beginning to pull you away and up the stairs. 

Wanda maneuvered through the crowd, sidestepping intoxicated individuals who seemed oblivious to the world beyond their own indulgence. Laughter and music washed over you as you reached the second floor and down the hall toward Wanda’s room. 

Your senses heightened as Wanda let you step into her private space, and you found herself instinctively pausing to take in your surroundings. Wanda made sure to not let your hand go, her thumb soothing over the back of your hand as you looked around. She stepped up behind you, gently resting her other hand on your hip as she pressed her front to your back softly. Your eyes swept across the room, drinking in the carefully curated collection of treasures that adorned each shelf and corner. The gentle hum of the music playing downstairs was muffled by the thick walls of Wanda’s room.

“Do you play?” You ask, eyes settling up the guitar by the side of her nightstand.

“Hmm, a bit,” she smiled as you raised your eyebrows, impressed at the fact. “I can show you any time you want. I can teach you.”

Her fingers brushed along the side of your waist, dancing along the fabric of your dress slightly as if she were forming guitar chords. Eventually, you let Wanda’s hands turn you around to face her, the soft scent of lavender filling the air as she leaned into you. 

“You look so pretty tonight, (Y/n),” she whispered, shamelessly staring at your lips.

Her gaze shifted from your mouth and into your eyes, and there you saw the gentle look she held solely for you. Wanda gently lifted the hand she held, guiding your fingertips to her lips, pressing light kisses against your knuckles. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“You already are,” you told her, the corners of your lips threatening to curve upwards.

Wanda smiled in return and brought her other hand up from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek and letting her thumb ghost over your bottom lip, “I mean… here.”

Her fingers trailed down to your jaw, “And right here.” To your neck, “And here.” Then, to your collarbone, “And… here.”

You sighed at the feeling of her feathery touches, closing your eyes as you relaxed in her hands. 

“Can I?” She repeated.

And for a moment, you took a second to look at the moment before you, your cheeks getting warm from Wanda’s actions. The warmth of her breath mingled with the sweet touch of her lips against your fingertips as she waited patiently for your answer for the second time tonight. As the words hung in the air, Wanda's gaze remained fixed on you, captivated by the emotions flickering across your face. In that moment, you appeared more enchanting to her than ever, having you so close to her for the first time, wanting to kiss those lips she’d been dreaming about for so long. 

“Yes, please,” you said. 

Wanda leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you, and softly pressed her lips against yours as she moaned. Every brush and hum of your lips sent shivers down Wanda's spine. Time became a distant concept as you lost yourself in her kisses. 

She slowly led you towards her bed, lips still pressed to yours. She had waited, with hope and uncertainty, for this moment to come. And finally, it was here. She’d show you. She’d show you how well she’d take care of you—how much better she could be than that boyfriend of yours. She’d give you everything you deserve. She’d prove it to you—change your mind, if possible, and have her be the only one to have and love you from now on.

Wanda pulled back after laying you down on her bed, staring down at you. She settled herself in between your legs and sighed at the feeling of your soft thighs under her hands. The sight of lips parting to catch your breath, your chest rising up and down, and your hair all over her pillows drove her crazy. Fuck. 

“Are you sure about this?” Wanda asked.

“Please.” You nodded, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with hers and squeezing them, “I want you, Wanda.”

Once she was positive that you were positive, Wanda pulled her shirt over off, shuffled closer to you, and gently brought your hands up above your head. She leaned down and placed a chaste kiss against your lips once more before traveling down to litter soft kisses against your jaw and your neck. Her body hovered over yours as you squirmed underneath her touches, whining slightly as she sucked on your skin. 

“Wait, Wanda,” you called out and she immediately stopped to look at you, patiently waiting for whatever you had to say. “Don’t leave any marks.” 

Wanda blinked, feeling a sense of disappointment wash over her chest. She was excited to mark you, litter hickeys all over your skin as a reminder that you were hers for the night. 

But she only bit her lip and nodded in return, “I won’t.”

After a beat, Wanda started kissing you once again. This time, her hands traveled downwards, running them along your thighs and up to where they met the hem of your velvety dress. She pushed the fabric upwards, your skin meeting the cold air inch by inch. Wanda was quick to provide warmth, squeezing the softness of your push thighs. 

Her kisses eventually made their way down to the valley of your breasts, letting one of her hands grope your tits. Wanda groaned into your body as you let your hands run through her red hair, tugging at them slightly when she squeezed your tit with her palms. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered against you.

Getting to worship you like this, manifesting your true desires to her, and her alone, felt like a constant dream. She had always imagined what it would be like to see you like this; a hot mess underneath her, moaning for her to touch you. And now that it was here, she never wanted to let it go. 

She’d imagine all the ways, all the positions she’d take you in, and make sure to take good care of you both always. She couldn’t wait to make you feel good. God, it was driving her insane. She couldn’t wait to have you. She wanted to make you see how much better she would be for you. And if there was one thing she wanted more than this; it was time. She wanted this to last forever. She wanted to eliminate all of the chances that could make you slip away from her grasp. 

But you were here now, and she vowed to make it the best you’ve had with the time she was dealt with. 

Her hands squeezed your thighs slightly as she stared down, “Spread those legs for me, sweetheart?” 

Wanda kneeled and leaned down the moment your knees parted, the sight of your drenched laced panties coming into view from underneath your dress. Without a second thought, Wanda pressed the pads of her index and middle finger against the soaked fabric. With half-lidded eyes, she couldn’t help but lean down, pressing her nose against your clothed pussy.

“How are you this perfect?” Wanda sighed against your cunt, her fingers moving the fabric to the side to look at your wetness. 

“Wanda…”

She looked up from in between your legs and licked her lips eagerly, “Yes, baby?”

“Hurry, please,” you whined. You couldn’t wait anymore. “I need you.”

Wanda felt her knees go weak when she heard those words. The sound of your voice, her name coming from your mouth, your hands in her hair… It was all too, perfect—you were so perfect.

After moments of admiring the sight of you in her bed, Wanda finally hooked her thumbs under your panties and dragged them slowly down your legs, making sure you were watching as she did so. The moment they came off, Wanda dove head first in between your legs, dragging the flat of her tongue through your folds. Firm and long licks switched into quick, fast kitten licks against your clit that had your thighs shaking around her head in a matter of seconds. You threaded your hands into her hair, moaning at the suddenness of her attack against your cunt. You dripped your sweet juices onto her tongue, causing her to moan softly against your clit, sending vibrations through your body. 

“Tastes so fucking good, baby.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Wanda rolled her eyes to the back of her head, the taste of heaven filling her mouth. She moaned, lips and chin covered in her spit and your slick as she continued to eat you out. 

“Wanda!” You whined as she wrapped her mouth around your clit and sucked. 

The sight of your jaw dropping and your eyes rolling to the back of your head when she introduced her fingers into the mix was something she wanted to see over and over and over again. She carefully prodded your entrance with her middle finger, sucking onto your clit gently, teasing you by slipping barely an inch into you then pulling back out to rub you softly. As she did so, she could feel your hips buck and your legs tense up around her head as she hummed against your clit with a smile on her face. 

You were soaking wet, dripping your juices all over the covers of her bed. Carefully, she slipped a single finger into you all the way down to her knuckle. She then curled it, emitting the loudest whine you let out for her tonight. She continued to curl her finger over and over, occasionally giving your clit some attention, sucking slightly and licking it gently as your orgasm started to build. 

“Mmmph, fuck, Wanda, I—"

Her green eyes watched as you withered against her bed, because of her mouth, to taste you like this, and hear your delicious moans fall past your lips. She slipped a second finger into you, your velvety walls wrapping around her digits, coating them with your slick as you moaned into her pillow and pulled at the sheets. 

“That’s it, (Y/n),” she stared up in awe as she watched your head fall back into the pillow, moaning at the feeling of her digits moving inside of your pussy. “Keep on making those noises for me, beautiful.”

Her two fingers that were swallowed inside your warmth began to speed up the moment she wrapped her lips around your clit once more, and sucked as hard as she could. You screamed into her pillow, trying to close your legs shut, engulfing her head with your plush thighs. Wanda decided that this was the best way to go; suffocating between your legs with the taste of your juices on her tongue. 

Soon, your voice faded out and your moans became more like gasps and hiccups for air. Wanda closed her eyes, her mouth pulling away to move up your body, resting her lips against your neck as her breath fans across your skin. You whined and clawed at her back deliciously as Wanda pumped and pumped her fingers in and out of you at a faster pace. She could hear all of your juices squelching down there because of her fingers and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes back and moan at the sounds filling her room. She felt as if she was in heaven. 

Wanda’s eyes, her pupils blown out from lust and darkened in desire didn’t help either, as the wetness between your legs only seemed to pool more and more as she fucked into you.

“I’m gonna cum, Wanda—“

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my fingers, baby?” She whispered in your ear, grunting against the side of your face as she pumped into you harder with her thumb pressing harshly in circles against your clit. 

Your orgasm hit hard, a sharp cry coming from your throat as you came, arching your back as Wanda slowed her movements. The sound of your cry sent shock waves straight down to her own core, and her eagerness to move inside of you, pressing against that spot in your pussy caused you to gasp and cry out again, shaking violently as you came around her fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” Wanda groaned against your neck, breathing heavily against you as you trembled in her bed. God, she wished she could make love to you forever. 

And knowing that she couldn’t, Wanda made use of the time she had left for the rest of the night and fucked you for as time would allow her until the two of you grew tired and passed out on her bed. 

Wanda held you close, pulling her blankets over you, naked bodies pressed together as you slept for the rest of the night. She savored the precious moments the two of you shared, knowing that her time with you was fleeting and she might not get a chance as good as this. She took some time to watch as you slept for a bit, her heart swelling with the feeling of you against her. It felt perfect, like you were made to fit right into her arms. 

But a bittersweet reality loomed over Wanda's thoughts, a reminder that you belonged to another, your heart already spoken for by a distant boyfriend. The one person she envied, deeming him unworthy of your love. She wondered what it would be like to claim the entirety of your heart, to be the one who could provide solace and security for you in every waking moment, and not just for tonight. 

Wanda's eyes traced the delicate curve of your cheek, her fingertips brushing against the soft strands of your hair. With a tender touch, she brushed her lips against your forehead, pressing a small kiss on your skin before falling asleep herself, while listening to the soft sound of your breathing. 

She wished that this was forever. And she wished you wanted her the same way she wanted you. 

A soft rustling sound reached Wanda’s ears, like the delicate whisper of fabric against fabric. Fluttering her eyes open slowly, Wanda could feel the subtle shift of the mattress, the gentle weight redistribution that accompanied your movement. Through half-closed eyes, Wanda's gaze settled upon your silhouette as you leaned down to pick your clothes up. You were in nothing but your underwear and you sat there for a second to look down at your phone, the glow of the screen casting gently upon your face. 

“Hey,” Wanda whispered softly, propping herself up on one of her elbows, eyes still struggling to keep open.

You looked up in surprise, turning to see her rubbing her eyes as she looked at you, “Hey…”

“What’re you…” Wanda yawned and ran a hand through her hair. “What’re you doing? Are you leaving?”

There was a slight pout on her lips that you didn’t fail to notice. You watched her eyes lazily dart to the digital clock on her nightstand, furrowing her eyebrows slightly before turning her drowsy gaze away to look at you again.

“It’s six in the morning… on a Saturday,” she said as if it was obvious. 

“I know,” you nodded and looked down at your phone, the screen completely filled with texts and missed calls from that boyfriend of yours. “I just… I think I should really get going, Wanda.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Oh.”

Wanda sighed and sat up properly, grabbing her shirt from the floor to put on. A very big part of her wanted to ask you to stay, over and over again, so that she could wrap her arms around you, underneath the covers, have you lay your head on her chest, and sleep peacefully with you for as long as she could. 

But there was a slim chance you’d take that offer.

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s fine,” you said, fixing your dress as you stood up from her bed. “I really don’t live that far.”

Truthfully, you did live quite a few ways away, but you wanted to sort out everything that was running through your head, and the time it would take to walk to your apartment might just let you do that. 

Wanda bit her lip, wondering if she had done something wrong. She thought that maybe you were regretting the night before, thinking that one of the best nights she’s ever lived through was possibly a mistake in your eyes. 

She hoped you didn’t think that. 

“Are you sure?” Wanda grabbed her keys from her desk, just in case you change your mind. “I’m not tired.”

“I’m positive, Wanda,” you smiled lightly, knowing very well she wanted to back to sleep. “It’s okay.”

As you gathered your belongings, your movements deliberate yet tinged with a touch of haste, Wanda's gaze lingered upon you, committing every detail to memory. The way your fingers deftly secured a strand of hair behind your ear, the determined set of your jaw as you walked towards the door, the fleeting glances you stole in Wanda's direction—each moment etched itself in Wanda’s mind. 

Time seemed to stretch as Wanda observed your preparations, each passing second amplifying the ache within her. She longed to reach out, to intertwine her fingers with yours and convince you to stay for a little while longer. 

But the choice, ultimately, rested with you, and Wanda knew that she had to honor that.

“Wait,” she called out suddenly, her tone infused with a soft concern that you couldn't ignore, just as you had placed a hand on the doorknob. “One second.”

You watched her step away, rushing over to her closet near the corner of her room, then pulling out some brown jacket. With a tender smile, Wanda approached you, her hands enveloped in the folds of her own jacket.

"Here," Wanda murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she offered the jacket to you. "It's probably cold out there." 

There was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hidden message that spoke of the lengths she would go to protect and care for you, even in the smallest ways. Your eyes widened slightly, surprised yet touched by Wanda's gesture. A myriad of emotions flickered across your face—gratitude, a touch of longing, and a hint of reluctance. You hesitated for a moment, torn between accepting Wanda's offering and the weight of your own conflicted feelings.

“If you’re not going to let me drive you… at least take this,” Wanda said, sensing your inner struggle. “You can return it whenever. Or don’t. Whichever is fine.”

Your hand trembled ever so slightly as you reached out and accepted the jacket. The fabric felt warm and comforting against your skin, as though it held a piece of Wanda's essence within its fibers.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of gratitude and unspoken emotions. 

Wanda watched as you slipped into her jacket carefully, letting it fall gracefully upon your shoulders. It was a tad bit loose on you, and Wanda only found it adorable, nonetheless. It was her first time seeing you in one of her clothes and she had to bite back that smile that was threatening to show on her face. With a gentle touch, Wanda adjusted the collar of the jacket, ensuring it provided the utmost comfort and warmth for you. 

You left soon after, leaving Wanda alone in the silence of her room. 

The crisp air brushed against your cheeks, its touch a gentle reminder of the outside world. After walking out of the neighborhood, the city streets unfolded before you as you ventured forth, enveloped in Wanda's jacket. It was warm, you thought, like her. Wanda was warm. You felt her warmth the night before as she held you delicately like she was afraid of breaking you. 

The weight of your actions pressed upon you, the guilt of infidelity intertwining with the intoxicating sensations that Wanda had awakened within you. Thoughts of your boyfriend, once a source of comfort and affection, mingled with memories of last night.

As you walked, the city whispered its secrets. The laughter of strangers, the busy morning road full of people heading into work in the early morning, the flickering lights of cafes and bars, and the intertwining streets became a chorus of reflections, mirroring the complexity of your emotions. 

You wondered what your boyfriend was up to now, probably sleeping, and if he even thought of the possibility of you cheating on him. Would he even care at this point? You had always been a loyal girlfriend before your relationship had started crumbling, always being there for him as much as you could, trying to make him happy, just as he did for you. But, now, everything seemed to be thrown away, and it was like you didn’t even know him anymore. 

Instead, you let your thoughts shift to Wanda—sweet and gentle Wanda. You couldn’t help but compare your boyfriend to her. In the course of a single night, Wanda had unraveled layers within you that had remained untouched for so long.

As you finally reached your apartment, you stood before the threshold, your heart heavy with the weight of your choices. With a deep breath, you stepped inside, the door closing behind you. The echoes of the city receded, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the echoes of conflicting emotions. You can’t help but think of the night before when Wanda showered you with that love and affection you’ve been craving. It was all you could think about. 

And in this moment, you felt that you missed Wanda more than you did your boyfriend. 

The entire month came around quickly, and the world around you sprang back to life, bustling with the rhythms of college life. The campus hummed with the energy of students making their way to their classes. As you made your way to the art building, you found yourself clutching a bouquet of vibrant flowers, another peace offering from your boyfriend, a gesture meant to make amends for doing something that hurt your feelings. Again. It was typical.

Yet, you didn’t feel anything as you looked at the flowers. The colors of the flowers seemed muted, the petals lacking the vibrancy that you craved. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment, a sense of disconnection that overshadowed any gratitude you should have felt. You couldn't shake the nagging sensation that something essential was missing.

And Wanda felt the same thing, if not, more. God, she missed you the moment you slipped out of her arms that morning. Just the thought of you in her bed, moaning her name just like you did that night sent her into orbit. She wanted you all over again. She needed you. And she just couldn’t help herself. Not when she got the taste of what it would be like to have you in that way. You were addicting. She wanted more. So much more. 

So, then, it happened again. And again. And again.

For the past month, you’ve betrayed your boyfriend, seeking solace and love in the arms of Wanda. Every stolen moment, every secret rendezvous, ignited a passionate flame within you that you had never experienced before. She made love to you every week that passed. You’ve been having frequent late nights in Wanda's room, hidden within the walls of the sorority house. She made love to you every week that passed, stole you away from your classes to make out with you in secret, wanting to have her hands all over you as much as she could. A lot of the time, it would happen on nights when your boyfriend would drag you to another party and he was too caught up to notice that you’d disappear, stolen away by Wanda so that she could keep you all to herself. 

On one hand, you felt guilty. But on the other hand, your heart yearned for Wanda and her touches, her gentle words, and the way she looked at you. With Wanda, you felt seen, heard, and cherished in a way you had never experienced before.

As your mind wandered through the labyrinth of your thoughts, everything around you seemed to fade into a blur of colors and shapes. But just as you were lost in the depths of your reverie, a soft but distinct knock echoed through your ears, jolting your senses.

“What are you painting?”

You snapped out of your trance and took in your surroundings. Unbeknownst to you, your art class, your final class of the day, had ended, and the studio was empty. Startled, your gaze shifted abruptly towards the door frame behind you, where a familiar figure stood, their presence bringing an instant surge of warmth to your heart. It was Wanda, the one who had occupied your thoughts so incessantly. She was leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded. 

“What are you doing here?” You stood quickly, eyes flickering with a sense of surprise and worry.

“I missed you.”

You rushed out of your seat, quickly making your way over to where she stood. Wanda shifted under your gaze the moment you reached behind her to close the studio door before grabbing her arm and pulling her further into the room in case anyone saw her. Caught off guard by the sudden pull, Wanda stumbled slightly, her attention instantly captured by the sight of you.

You stood before her, clad in an artist's apron, tiny smudges of paint adorning your cheeks and hands. Your shirt, with its sleeves carefully folded, revealed glimpses of the same colors that lived on your canvas. And Wanda couldn’t help but smile at you.

“What are you smiling about?” You rolled your eyes, shyly tucking your hair behind your ear as you turned around to avoid her stare.

Wanda shook her head but kept the smile on her face, following closely behind you as you sat back down on the stool in front of your easel, “Nothing.”

“Seriously,” you say, rolling your eyes before picking the paintbrush up from your table. “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” Wanda struggled to find an excuse, “I was walking by and thought I’d come see you… just to see what you were up to.”

It wasn’t a total lie. But she missed you so much that she practically ran across the whole campus just to get to this building. And to be honest, she couldn't stop missing you if she tried. A month has passed since you left her bedroom that night, and the following weeks spent sneaking around with you almost felt both unsettling and heavenly to her—she had you, but at the same time, she didn’t. And, she hated it. 

In truth, Wanda's last class was located on the other side of the campus, far from the art studio. But the distance mattered little to her. She had to see you, and now that she did, fighting the urge to touch you was practically unbearable.

“I’m working on my final piece,” you told her, staring down at the palette box on the wooden table, using a palette knife to mix your oils. “It’s just some finishing touches. It won’t dry soon enough if I do a thicker layer… even though I should, but it has to be done by next Wednesday…”

You went on rambling quietly about what else you needed to do as if you were not only talking to her but also reminding yourself, which was cute, Wanda thought. She listened intently, slowly making her way closer behind you, peeking over your shoulder with a curious smile as her hand slowly rested against your hip. 

“What’s on Wednesday?” She asked, her front now pressed against your back as you continued to paint. 

Your breath hitched at the contact, but you made no move to back away. She was warm—and you learned that you loved that about her. You could feel her face next to yours, closely observing each stroke of your brush, watching how your fingers danced over the canvas.

“Well, it’s due Wednesday and there’s, uh,” you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling nervous and fuzzy in your chest knowing she was so close to you. “An exhibit. It’s on Friday, actually, but they need to finish preparing for it by Thursday. The art professors are choosing some students to showcase their portfolios at the museum down the road. It’s funded by the university.”

Wanda’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “And you got chosen as one of the artists? Out the whole art department?”

You laughed and shook your head, “Don’t make it a big deal—“

“But it is a big deal!” Wanda turned her head to look at you, her eyes watching your features closely. “It’s amazing. Really.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched in your throat as you turned to face Wanda, the tips of your noses brushing against each other, causing you to pull your head back slightly. Your eyes widened, taking in the breathtaking proximity of your faces, your breaths mingling in the shared space in between. And you began to notice things you’ve never really taken the time to admire.

Wanda's bright green eyes, like emerald gems, sparkled with a mixture of affection and curiosity. The strands of her tousled red hair tumbled slightly, probably from wind from outside, framing her features with an effortless charm. You drank in the sight of Wanda, committing every line and curve to your memory.

“I think you’re amazing,” Wanda whispered, her eyes darting from your eyes down to your lips.

You watched her eyes as she did so, your cheeks flushing slightly—usually because of the fact that she always wanted to kiss you. 

Your voice trembled with a mix of uncertainty and longing as she began, “Wanda, wait… I don’t think we should—“

But before you could complete your sentence, Wanda tilted her head and closed the gap, her lips meeting yours in a gentle, yet fervent, kiss. Your initial protest was lost in the softness of Wanda's lips against your own as your eyes fluttered closed. Wanda's lips, warm and tender, spoke volumes of the love and adoration she held for you, and you couldn’t help but kiss her back. 

The kiss deepened, Wanda running her tongue along your bottom lip, wrapping her arms, and running her hands around your waist from behind you as you welcomed her into your mouth with a soft moan. She had been wanting to kiss you again since the last time she saw you, and now that it was finally here, it felt like a dream come true. 

You made out with Wanda until you felt like you were about to faint. You pulled away to catch your breath, keeping Wanda still by holding her shoulders in place as she continued to chase for your lips.

“Wanda,” you breathed, your mind filling itself with conflicting thoughts. 

“No one’s going to see,” she tried to reassure you, her lips brushing against yours.

“T-That’s not what I’m worried about,” A sigh falls from your mouth, turning your head away from her before she could lean back in.

Wanda's eyes tried to search yours, filled with a mixture of determination and longing, wanting nothing more than to press her lips against your mouth over and over again. Her voice trembled with a blend of frustration and vulnerability as she asked, “Then, what are you worried about?”

“I-I’ve been wanting to talk to you. This whole month with you… It’s been amazing. You’ve been perfect. Truly. But, I… I don’t know if this is a good idea… anymore… and I’m still with Tyler,” you finally let out, struggling to find the right words to say.

She paused, suddenly feeling tense after listening to you. 

“Then, break up with him,” she said softly, eyes gazing into yours, concentrating on what you had to say. 

“Wanda…”

“You said it’s been amazing. I don’t…” She shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows for a split second. “I don’t understand why this isn’t a good idea anymore. I don’t understand why you won’t break up with him. Do you even still like him? Do you not like me?”

You stood from your seat and walked a couple of paces away from her. “Of course, I like you.”

Wanda clenched her jaw, watching you carefully as you ran your hand through your hair, “You know what I mean.”

And for a moment, you don’t answer. It wasn’t because you weren’t sure of what the answer was, it was because of how sure you were. Wanda had given you so much love in one month and within this hour than Tyler could’ve given you in the past year. You couldn’t love Wanda even if you were tired. 

You closed your eyes, and sighed, “I do, Wanda.”

“Then, why are you still with him?”

“I don’t—I don’t know…” You stammered, frustration washing over your entire face. “I-I’ve been with him for so long and I’ve seen all of the good and the bad and I just can’t stop thinking about things like… what if he changes? I want to believe that he can, and lying to him constantly is starting to take a toll on me.”

“How long are you going to hold on to that ‘what if’? Hm? It’s been a month and he still hasn’t done anything to make you happy! He’s not just going to change overnight and besides, you’ve been constantly trying to talk to him about what’s wrong or what’s bothering but he doesn’t even seem to care!” She yelled, shaking her head slightly, “And what if he never changes? What if he keeps treating you like this? What then?”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you listened to Wanda’s voice, tinged with a mixture of heartbreak and determination. Love, fear, loyalty, and doubt waged a fierce internal war within you. You knew deep down that Wanda was right, that your relationship with him was eroding your own happiness.

“Well, what are you asking me to do?” Wanda asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“I-I don’t know—“

“If you’re going to ask me to just be friends with you, I’m not doing it,” she said, shaking her head, the thought of it waking her heart. “I can’t… I can’t just be friends with you.”

Your eyes softened at her words, “Wanda…”

“And, I know it’s scary. I know… It’s not going to be easy. I know you really liked him at some point back then, and that it’s hurting you that he’s like this,” Wanda said with a heavy heart as she watched the first of your tears run down your face. It tore her apart to be the one to make you cry, but she knew that you needed to hear it. “But, I really like you, too. And, I want to do things right with you. I want to take you out on dates and share the things I have with you. I want to kiss you. So many times. I want to worship you. I want to give you all the things you deserve. But, I don’t want to do any of that while you’re suffocating yourself in this relationship... You’re not happy with him, (Y/n). Not like you are with me.”

Your gaze faltered, torn between the love you felt for Wanda and the lingering ties that bound you to a toxic relationship. Fear and uncertainty swirled within you, clouding your judgment and eclipsing the clarity of your own desires. 

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows again, her gaze landing on the flowers on the table, “Are these from him?”

The fact that you don’t say anything else answers Wanda’s question. She nodded, pain filling her chest as she stared at your back. Feeling like you ripped her heart right out of her, jealousy filled her veins and she grabbed her bag and made her way to the door. 

“He’s a dick, (Y/n),” she started, halting in her tracks before she could walk out. “Love isn’t about hiding behind a bouquet of flowers to avoid talking to you. It’s not about waiting to see if things get better when all he does is give you a five-dollar bouquet as his way to apologize. He should be on his knees begging for your forgiveness. Because, if I were him, I’d do everything and anything to make sure you’re happy. I hope you know that.”

Then, she left.

You don’t see her for the next several days, not after that argument. She doesn’t text or call you and she doesn’t visit the art building anymore. 

Days turned into nights, and you found yourself anxiously waiting for a message, a call, or any form of contact from Wanda. But the silence remained unbroken, leaving you to question the depth of the chasm that had grown between you. Your heart longed for Wanda's presence, for the sound of her voice, and the comfort of her embrace. 

You replayed the argument over and over in your mind, dissecting every word exchanged and every emotion unleashed. You understood Wanda's frustration, her desire to be together with you, free from the toxicity that clung to your current relationship. And yet, fear had clouded your judgment, chaining you to a life that no longer brought you happiness. 

The nights turned into weeks, and your heart grew heavier with each passing moment. You yearned for the sound of Wanda's laughter, the warmth of her smile, and the unwavering support she had always offered for you. The absence of her presence was a constant reminder of the choice you had made and the potential consequences of that choice. Two weeks had passed since the argument, and the silence that lingered between the two of you weighed heavily on your spirit.

And soon, Friday came: the night of the exhibit. A mixture of excitement and nervousness coursed through your veins. The gallery buzzed with activity, the air thick with the scent of anticipation. Your artwork adorned the walls along with several other students, each stroke of your brush conveying emotions you had kept hidden for so long.

As the guests began to trickle in, your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers. Each passing moment filled you with a sense of anticipation. You wondered if Wanda would come, and if she remembered it. The murmurs and laughter of the attendees swirled around you, blending into an indistinct background noise.

As the minutes ticked away, each second seemed to stretch into eternity. Your heart raced, your palms clammy with nervous anticipation. And then, in the midst of your restless thoughts, about an hour into the exhibit, a figure appeared at the entrance of the gallery. Wanda's presence filled the room, her vibrant aura commanding attention.

You approached her, but you couldn't help but notice the subtle signs of conflict etched upon her face. Wanda's eyes, usually filled with a gentle glow, held a mixture of hope and trepidation. It was clear that she had taken a risk by attending the exhibit, despite the wounds of your recent disagreement.

The room seemed to quiet around the two of you as you inched your way closer, as if the universe recognized the significance of this moment. Your heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and remorse, realizing the depth of Wanda's love and her willingness to be there for you, even when it felt like she hadn’t spoken to you in ages. 

Wordlessly, you stood beside Wanda, your shoulders almost touching, as you both gazed at the art that surrounded them. As the colors of your artwork danced across the gallery walls, you allowed yourself to hope, to believe that perhaps forgiveness and second chances were possible. And standing beside her, Wanda silently promised to be there, ready to support and love you, no matter the outcome.

“You came,” you breathed out, once you were close enough for her to hear. “You… you didn’t have to.”

Wanda turned at the sound of your voice, taking a moment to admire the way you looked tonight. The sight of you only made her curse under her breath, questioning why you had to look so damn good all the time. 

“Of course, I came,” she said, subtle eyes skimming over the dress that wrapped around your curves. “I wouldn’t miss it. But, I am a little bit late… I didn’t know when it was starting.”

Your eyebrows twitched upwards as you listened to her words, pursing your lips as a way to hide the pain you were feeling in your chest, “No, it’s okay. I–I’m glad you’re here. I’m really happy you’re here.”

You hadn't expected Wanda to come, not after the fight and the painful silence that had ensued for the past two weeks. But she came anyway, to one of the most important nights you had been preparing for throughout the year and you were beyond grateful. You could kiss her right now. 

But the pain you felt in your chest mostly stemmed from the fact that seeing Wanda here tonight made you recall what had happened between you two in the art studio. For the whole week, you thought you wouldn’t see her again, and it hurt to think that when that was all you wanted. 

And not only that, but you were also disappointed in the fact that you couldn’t see Tyler anywhere. You wondered if he was going to come tonight, or if he even remembered. But, that doesn’t even matter to you anymore. It hurt, of course, but it was a typical feeling you grew tired of. She was right. And deep down, even though you chose to do the opposite of what she said, you knew she was, too. You felt guilty for hurting Wanda, and for trying to believe in your boyfriend when she had been telling you from the start that he wasn’t going to change. 

“Um,” you started, trying to find the words to say. “How do you like it so far? The exhibit? Did you get to walk around a bit?”

Wanda smiled lightly, noticing that this was your way to have a conversation with her, “Yeah, yeah, I did. It’s amazing. Everyone did a great job. You’re all really talented.”

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat, turning away to hide the blush on your cheeks. 

“Your paintings are breathtaking, (Y/n),” she said, her eyes tracing the strokes of your artwork with admiration. “Almost just as stunning as their maker.”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes playfully, nudging her shoulder a bit. You knew it was a way for her to lighten up the mood on a night that was so important to you. 

“I’m serious,” Wanda smiled gently. “You look beautiful. Really. That dress… You’re stunning.”

A blush tinted your cheeks as she glanced down at your attire, a mixture of gratitude and unease evident in your expression. "Thank you, Wanda."

You were grateful. You really were. Tears of appreciation welled up in your eyes, reflecting the flickering lights of the gallery, as you thought about Wanda. You felt as if you didn't deserve Wanda's unwavering support, but you also couldn't deny the overwhelming gratitude you felt.

While your eyes occasionally darted to your phone, a sense of resignation had settled within you. You had sent countless messages to your boyfriend, seeking his whereabouts and wondering about his presence, but with each unanswered text, the realization began to crystallize in your heart. He would never change for you. He would never prioritize your happiness or love you the way you deserved.

As your eyes swept over the crowd, you struggled to find your boyfriend anywhere. His absence spoke volumes, a stark reminder of the shortcomings of your relationship and the love that had dwindled over time. But, Wanda's presence radiated with unwavering support and affection, reminding you of the love she had found in the midst of chaos. 

“(Y/n)!” Another student called out for you. “Professor is looking for you. Some other teachers are asking about one of your paintings.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” you told her, biting your lip as you turned back around to face Wanda. “I… I have to go. But, if it’s okay, do you think you could… I’m allowed to leave in about thirty minutes—The students just need to be here for the opening since that’s when all of the critics and important art people and professors come in… And the gallery stays open for the rest of the night anyway, but after that, I’m free to go… So I was wondering if you could… I mean, if you even want to—”

“Yeah, I-I’ll wait for you,” she said with a smile, nodding her head eagerly without a second thought, interrupting your adorable ramble before you could even ask your question. 

You had to fight a smile that was slowly making its way onto your face, “Okay, I-I’ll find you.”

Reluctantly, you stepped away to find your professor, who gestured toward a group of important art figures gathered nearby. You made your way towards them, your mind divided between the conversation that awaited you and Wanda. With each stolen glance, you couldn't help but notice the softness in Wanda's features, the way her eyes shimmered with a mix of emotions that mirrored her own.

Engaging in polite conversation with the art professionals, your attention wavered, your thoughts constantly drifting back to Wanda. You wanted to go back to her. As you listened intently to the conversation before you, your eyes would inevitably wander back to Wanda, who moved quietly, her every gesture captivating and graceful as she looked around

Yet, you knew that this conversation with your professor held importance for your artistic future. So, you remained present, exchanging pleasantries and discussing your work, all the while feeling the pull of your emotions toward Wanda, who appeared lost in your own thoughts as she explored the gallery.

When the conversation drew to a close, your professor commended you on your talent and potential, expressing a desire to further support your artistic journey. Grateful for the recognition, you excused yourself, your steps immediately directing themselves toward Wanda, who stood near a captivating sculpture. Your heart quickened as you made your way through the bustling gallery, your mind consumed with conflicting emotions. 

But before you could reach her, your eyes caught the sight of a familiar man standing passed the glass doors of the gallery. He stood out by the entrance, a bouquet in his palm as he was about to step into the building. 

Without wasting another second, you rushed over to where he stood, to try and keep him out because you felt that he didn’t belong here anymore. 

“What are you doing here?” you said quietly, your voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

“(Y/n)! I’m so sorry for being late. I-I got caught up with work. You know how it is, and—and I couldn’t find the building and there was so much traffic when I was driving here,” Tyler said, muttering excuses after excuses. He held out the bouquet, his expression filled with contrived sincerity, “These are for you. I know how much you like them—”

“Tyler, I don’t want the flowers,” You shook your head, not even batting an eyelash at the way his arms dropped to the side after you said that sentence, gripping the plastic of the bouquet tightly in his hand. “I don’t want you here. I want you to leave.”

Confusion flickered across Tyler's face, quickly replaced by defensiveness. “What? I just fucking got here. I-I came to support you—”

“I am not going to do this with you again,” You rolled your eyes and glanced to the side, too furious to even look at him.

"Do what?"

“This, Tyler. I’m done. I’m done embarrassing myself. I’m tired you of treating me like shit. I can’t believe I spent so long trying to believe you’d change for me, but I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m done,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat as tears welled up in your eyes.

Anger flashed across his face, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "What the fuck are you talking about? We've been together for years. We can work through this. It’s just a rough patch."

“No, Tyler. It isn’t. I’ve already tried talking to you about this! So many times! But you just ignore me, you don’t talk to me, you don’t pay any attention to me, you flirt with everyone else and all you do for me is buy me so many goddamn flowers like they mean something for you!”

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he turned to look away.

“I’m unbelievable? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, you are! You’re always so fucking boring! Always sitting alone at parties, always wanting to leave early, and you never want to go out—“

“How is this my fault?” You cried out in frustration. “You… You don’t even love me anymore.”

“What, and you do?”

The argument spilled onto the streets, voices raised and emotions running high. Your heart ached as the realization hit you with crushing force—this was the end. The end of a relationship that had long been tainted by neglect, disrespect, and a lack of true connection.

“I’m not doing this again, Tyler. We’re done. You can go find some other girl to give those stupid flowers to. Because, it’s not going to be me.”

Without saying more, you stepped back into the gallery and rushed through the gallery, heading straight into the office room where you kept your things. You closed the door behind you, tears streaming down your face. You leaned against the table, your body trembling with both relief and sadness. The echoes of the breakup reverberated in your mind, reminding you of the pain you had endured and the weight that had been lifted from your shoulders.

As you allowed yourself to surrender to your emotions, you were unaware that Wanda had been watching when you ran into the room, seeing the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks as you walked. But she waited. Wanda understood the need for you to process your feelings in private, respecting your space while patiently waiting for you. 

Minutes passed and you wiped away your tears, taking deep breaths to steady your trembling form. You decided that you felt like the building was suffocating you and that you needed to leave, but you remembered Wanda. With each passing moment, your heart began to steady and you slowly grabbed your things before heading out again. You knew that your decision to break away from Tyler was the right one, even if it meant venturing into unknown territory with Wanda. 

As you finally gathered the strength to leave the room, you slowly opened the door, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the gallery once again. And there, standing just a few steps away, was Wanda. She gave you a small smile as you slowly made your way towards her. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” Wanda watched as you tried to avoid her eyes as a way to hide the fact that you were crying. But she saw right through you.

You finally spoke, your voice trembled slightly, "I, um, think I need to get out of here, away from all this... everything. I know I asked you to wait—."

“No, it’s okay,” Wanda nodded immediately, her expression filled with empathy. "I’ll drive you home."

And normally, you’d protest and say you can go alone instead, but Wanda made no room for you to argue when she already started making her way towards the doors. Your eyes flickered with gratitude as you leaned into Wanda's presence, following closely behind her. 

You stepped outside, the cool night air embracing the both of you as Wanda led you to her car. She opened the door for you, gesturing for you to slide into the passenger seat. You settled into the seat, glancing at Wanda as she made her way into her own, your eyes shimmering with vulnerability. Starting the engine, Wanda guided the car onto the open road of the city, leaving the gallery and its lingering shadows in the rearview mirror. The world outside the windows slowly became a blur of city lights and passing landscapes as time passed. 

The drive was quiet. The soft hum of the car engine filled the air as she drove you home in a comforting silence. You sat quietly in the passenger seat, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights, getting lost in your own thoughts. But Wanda stole glances at you whenever she could, her eyes tracing the delicate curve of your profile, sitting so pretty in the passenger seat of her car. You wore a jacket over that gorgeous dress you wore, and every fiber of Wanda's being yearned to reach out, to hold your hand, or put hers over your thigh. 

But she restrained herself. 

The car eventually glided to a stop in front of your apartment, the engine purring into silence. Wanda turned off the ignition and her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she spoke softly. 

“We’re here,” she said, rubbing her hands against her jeans nervously. 

You pulled yourself out of your trance the moment her words reached your ears, glancing out the window for a moment before looking back at her. She was waiting. You met Wanda's gaze, a flicker of a smile gracing your lips. She was waiting. You nodded once again, but you didn’t move to get out or anything. 

Instead, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”

Wanda's eyes widened, eyebrows twitching in surprise, her initial shock giving way to a glimmer of hope that danced in the depths of her gaze. A gentle smile curved Wanda's lips, the subtlest of nods conveying her agreement, even fighting the urge to say ‘please.’

“Yeah.”

It was quiet when she entered your apartment, following behind in soft footsteps as you led her through your front door. She’s never really been inside before—all the secret nights you spent with her were in the comfort of her own room in the sorority house. She liked having you in her bed. Then again, she would love to be in yours, if you’d let her. 

The air felt heavy with unspoken words, tension lingering from the events that had unfolded at the gallery. She followed closely behind you, her footsteps light and cautious as you led her down the hall to your kitchen. The atmosphere in the apartment seemed hushed, almost as if it was holding its breath, mirroring the uncertainty that lingered in Wanda's mind. Her mind raced with thoughts of what she could say, how she could comfort you, or how to even begin talking to you. 

Leaning against the kitchen table, Wanda's gaze fixed upon your back, watching your every move as you prepared tea for her. Nervous anticipation coursed through her veins, a gentle thrum of excitement filling her chest as she stared at you. She found herself entranced by the sight of you before her. The dress hugged you in all of the right spots, every line and curve fitting you perfectly. And Wanda couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly the fabric draped over your frame, molding itself to you, as if it had been designed with you in mind. Wanda didn’t know how long she was staring. Her eyes traced the gentle sway of your hips as you reached for a teacup, and she wanted nothing more than to pull you close to her.

“I broke up with him,” you blurted out suddenly. 

Lost in her admiration, Wanda's breath hitched ever so slightly at the sound of your voice, pulling her out of her trance. 

“I-I feel more relieved than sad actually… It’s like… I don’t know,” you sighed. “Should I be feeling guilty for being happy that we broke up? I feel like should be crying right now, but I feel… thankful.”

Wanda watched as you continued to make two cups of tea, your back turned to her, listening to your words carefully. 

“I just don’t know if it’s okay for me to…”

You sighed again, and even if you didn’t finish your sentence, Wanda had a feeling she knew what you were going to say. She could sense the guilt and uncertainty that weighed heavily on your mind, knowing all too well the thoughts that plagued her.

Just as you were about to voice out the rest of your thoughts, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, holding you softly as her front pressed against your back, “Is this okay?”

For a moment, you don’t say anything, and Wanda wonders if she should pull away and keep her distance until you decide what you feel is right or wrong. But her thoughts dissipated when she felt you nod. She sighed in relief, letting her eyes flutter closed as she brought her head down to your shoulder, kissing your skin there. 

“I heard,” she started, mumbling into your shoulder so quietly that you almost didn’t hear. “When Tyler came. I just… I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t do anything.”

You stayed quiet as she spoke, slowly stirring the tea in the mug in front of you. Gently, she slipped her hand into yours, intertwining her fingers softly with yours before bringing it up to her face to kiss the back of your hand.

“I’m proud of you. Really. I am,” she said, rubbing the pad of her thumb along your skin.

“You were right,” You sighed and smiled gently, using your hands to run them over hers, the ones that rested against your stomach, holding you close against her, “I knew you were right. But, I should’ve listened to you sooner… I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize,” she said, shaking her head against your back. “I knew you were nervous about it. And that you were scared… I knew. But I pressured you about it anyway, even though I knew you weren’t ready yet.”

You turned around to look at her, your hands landing on her shoulders, “Wanda—“

“I would have waited either way. I already have been. I would still wait for you if you need me too,” she said, more sincerely than you’d ever heard anyone say anything before. “I would do anything.”

You stood there, your heart momentarily caught off guard by the surge of emotions that flooded your being. Wanda's words lingered in your mind, filled with a depth of sincerity that you had never experienced before. The toxic grip that your ex-boyfriend had held on your heart suddenly seemed insignificant, overshadowed by the overwhelming love you felt from just looking into Wanda’s eyes alone. You smiled sadly, slightly mad at yourself for not dropping everything to be with her sooner. 

Bringing your hand up to her face, you smoothed your thumb over her cheek as a way to calm her down, “You don’t have to wait anymore, Wanda.”

Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in surprise and hope. She searched your gaze, her heart pounding with anticipation, trying to find any signs of regret or disapproval. 

“Please tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying,” she breathed, waiting for the response that would shape the path ahead. But as she looked into your eyes, she saw something that sparked joy within her.

You brought a second hand up to cup her face and leaned in to press your lips against her cheek. She closed her eyes at the contact, the soft kiss did well to erupt butterflies in her stomach. Wanda sighed and dropped her head to hide her face against your neck after you kissed her, her breath tickling your skin slightly as her grip around your waist grew tighter. The corners of her own lips curved up into a smile that she 

couldn’t fight, a soft chuckle bubbling in her throat as she breathed you in.

“Do you really want this with me?”

“I love you,” you said, more certain than ever, watching as Wanda’s breath hitched at the sounds of your words. You smiled needily, entirely in love and filled with so many emotions you couldn’t contain them all at once. “I want everything with you.”

It was finally here—the moment when she could finally call you hers. Heart pounding, she reached her arms around you again keeping herself in your embrace and wanting to be as close as possible to you.

She hid her face again by tucking it into the side of your neck, nuzzling as close as she could, “I can’t stop smiling.”

Gently scratching the nape of Wanda’s neck to grab her attention, you urged her to bring her head back up. But the moment she did, you felt her lips press against yours. Her patience had worn thin, wanting to taste you after what felt like forever of not being close to you, not being able to touch you, hold you, or kiss you. Wanda sighed into the kiss, her hands sliding to the small of your back to pull you impossibly close to her while you let yours run through her hair. She moaned into your mouth when you tugged on it slightly.

Wanda smiled against your lips, thinking about all the ways she would love you, treasure you, unlike him. Her mind wandered in between the time she kissed you, the addicting taste of you on her tongue was making her feel weak in her knees. She found her hands slowly traveling down to your hips, then lower and lower, up until they rested on the lowest part of your back, her fingers bunching up the fabric of your dress. 

“What are you doing?” You pulled back with a giggle, looking at her, acting innocently curious.

“Kissing you,” she said, dragging her lips along the skin under your jaw, kissing you softly there as you tilted your head to the side to give her more space. “Can I help you out of this dress? Please?”

You shuddered at the sound of her low voice, your hands gripping her shoulders like your life depended on it. You nodded, about to say yes, but Wanda was quick to put her mouth on yours the second you opened it, slipping her tongue past your lips. 

The entire night she had to see your figure so beautifully displayed in this little black dress and ignore it. But it was damn near impossible now with you so close and moaning into her mouth. Wanda was at a loss for words. She just didn’t know how to say it. Everything was perfect now. You were perfect. The way the straps of your dress fell off your shoulders was perfect. The way you smelled and tasted. The way that Wanda could call you hers now, keep you all to herself.

And finally, her chest heaved only for a moment before she chose what to do and you closed your eyes and welcomed something you had long dreamed of. 

— navigation!

[amellialunarie]

Unseen, Unheard, Still Here

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·┈┈┈┈

Could I even be able to hang on and make it to the end?

She couldn't recall when the heaviness took hold of her heart. It just settled in, like fog creeping on her skin.

A still, quiet fog.

It didn't scream inside her head, it didn't hurt. It simply pressed. Crushing any hope she had left with a deliberate force.

Most days, she woke up in the shell of herself, an echo of who she thought she should’ve been. The mirror never spoke kindly to her. It showed the scary possibilities of the future that still felt real. It echoed the fears everyone, including her, thought might come true.

The Kyklos curse.

A constant reminder that time is running out, and she still hasn’t found any key ways to survive.

On usual days, she knew how to laugh. She could mimic smiles. She could be polite. Sometimes, she even surprised herself and made someone laugh.

She endured all the hardships she faced while accompanying all these ghouls through their mission. Some could be difficult, while others could express genuine appreciation for her efforts.

There are still people who care about her, promise to help her with her curse, and God knows they have made an effort.

And she tried. God, she tried. She nodded. She said thank you. She wrote gratitude lists and did her best for them.

But survival felt like balancing on a thread stretched thin across a canyon at this point. Everyone was clapping on one side, and she was just trying not to look down while she walked on the thread.

Hope shines for a moment, then fades away like morning dew. She questioned whether she could face it again once more.

These ghouls have almost no hope of catching anomalies alive.

She sighs, remembering how many times she almost cured her curse. Yet, each attempt slipped away at the last moment. Or even worse, there is absolutely nothing they could find during the mission.

It feels like a dead end straight to her own demise.

"Still..." she muttered, recalling the risk of Darkwick's mission while innocent people still lived near the anomaly, unaware of it. "I'm just glad there's no one hurt that badly."

"Ah, the dandelion appears sorrowful once more."

A sudden foreign yet familiar voice destroys all your trains of thought. As you begin to feel disconnected from everything around you, you never expected Edward to show up at the back of the training ground.

"Edward-san?!! Why are you here?"

There stands the old vampire, indifferent to the sun. Watching him rise from his couch and leave his YouTube is like seeing a wonder of the world. It leaves her in awe for a moment.

"Why, oh, I wonder, my dandelion lady," he mused, referencing the nickname Towa had given her. "Still cursed with that tender little heart, always trying to find meaning in your own misery. A most endearing, if tragically futile, habit."

She turned fully toward him, brushing dust from her skirt. “I didn’t think anyone else would be out here. Not today, at least.”

“And yet, here you are,” he said, gesturing vaguely to her as he stepped further into the shade. “Wearing the expression of one who’s carrying out a war, only to wonder if it was worth to fought for.”

She lowered her gaze. “Maybe it wasn’t.”

Edward hummed, half in amusement, half in thought. “You know, I find it rather fascinating that mortals insist on searching for purpose in pain. As if suffering must yield meaning—or else it’s too cruel to accept.”

She crossed her arms with a firm grip. “Is it wrong to want it to mean something?”

“Oh, not wrong,” he said, his voice suddenly softer. “Just... exhausting. Like trying to read a book whose ending refuses to be written.”

She stood stunned at his remark as if it hit the nail on, silence stretched between them. She finally looked at Edward.

“You think I won’t make it, don’t you?” she asked, not accusingly, just tired.

Edward tilted his head, considering. “Oh, I think you might. But I also think you believe your death would inconvenience no one, which is far more dangerous than any curse.”

That one hit her—low, somewhere in the ribs.

She almost spoke, almost defended herself. But her voice caught.

Edward looked up, eyes catching a glint of light that wasn’t sunlight. “There’s something odd about you, MC. Even stranger than the Kyklos clinging to your soul like ivy. You persist, not out of pride or purpose, but out of obligation. To whom, I wonder?”

“I don’t know,” she said, revealing her true feelings. “I don’t even know if I want to keep going... or if I’m just afraid to stop.”

A long breath, nearly a sigh, slipped from Edward as he turned and walked toward the edge of the grass. Then he looked past her.

No—through her.

And his voice, when it came, changed.

Lower. Slower. Like it had remembered something he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Perhaps it is not just us who are hoping for your survival, MC.” he said. “There are voices older than time, quieter than thought... and still louder than fate. Forces you’ve never seen. Ones that never left.”

He smiled, narrowing his eyes slightly—almost as if he found amusement in a private joke.

“Or perhaps,” he said now, stepping further into the fading light, “there is just one pair of eyes, watching from the distance... wishing, more than any of us ever could, for you to endure.”

She blinked. “What?”

But he didn’t answer her.

Because he wasn’t talking to her.

His gaze lingered just beyond the air she breathed. Past the dusty training ground. Past the academy walls. Past even the screen she stood on.

And then—

“You're the one who likely wished for her survival the most, didn’t you?”

He smiled at you with a hint of recognition, as someone does when they already know the answer.

It felt like he could see right through you. You knew this was ending, yet you stayed—for her and for everyone still at the academy.

Yes, so please all of you...must survived. Please...

“Even if she never knew it.” Then he turned back to her, his tone casual once more. “Come now, enough melancholy. If you insist on brooding in corners, at least wear a coat.”

She blinked, shaken out of her thoughts. “…Right.”

She didn’t ask him what he meant. Maybe she didn’t want to know. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to.

But for some reason, she felt a little less lonely.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ .fin

Early warning : Tbh, I'm still not finished all the episode to the latest update so I actually have little information while making this (please forgive me if there's any OOC, have mercy). All I ever make mostly inspired based on what people posting so I always link their post in my credit. Word count: 1089.

#credits; seeing this post, I've been inspired.

[thegreatyin]

what do you mean this meme went out of fashion circa september 2024. no it didn't. shhh.

anyway OC SMASH OR PASS 💥💥💥💥💥 GO MY BAT 🦇🌹 #MyBat

rules: self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

i was tagged by Nobody. i did this By Myself. i am however tagging everyone who sees this for every fandom under the sun. smash your ocs. smash your mutuals ocs. smash everyone's ocs. probably don't smash the scoundrel though they don't deserve it

the first two drawings are by me, and the last two are by @foongle and @queercatboyrights respectively. yes of course these are all equally important reference images what are you talking about

🦇📈 PROS:

The Snugglerrrrrr

when they like someone she really does like them. she is singing their praises to the highest heavens and showering them in more gifts than they can handle

art lover and artist. will write sappy poetry about/for you

can take a head pat and/or chin scritch no problem

smells like flowers 🌸🌹🌺

24/7 cute bat noise asmr

can (and often does) purr so hard her whole body shakes

hedonism 15 if not in gameplay then in spirit

would insist he's dominating in the bedroom but in actuality he's the furthest possible opposite. very suggestible, very collarable.

has more Experience™ than you'd think

extremely sensitive ears. like. elf fetish tier sensitive. you know exactly what i mean by this

okay i was going to dance around their exact sexual parameters because this isn't the blog for that sort of thing but i can't in good faith make this kind of post without mentioning they give head like a world-class olympic champion. no i'm not joking or exaggerating. this is Real Scoundrel Lore.

insists upon ludicrous amounts of aftercare and/or cuddling. this is earnest and goes both ways

can be fixed. maybe. possibly. if you believe hard enough.

🦇❓ NEUTRAL QUIRKS:

>:3

roughly 40-ish, give or take a few years

usually presents vaguely masculine, but occasionally switches it up in the opposite direction. floats vaguely around the androgynous range

a married bat, though their situationship is open and his wife isn't the jealous type

their eyes are violant, meaning they remember Everything they see. everything.

approximately 99.1% human, with an ongoing bat HRT prescription

hopelessly romantic at heart, but very comfortable with flings and/or one night stands

praise and body worship and bondage enjoyer georg

accidentally BPD coded

in modern terms, they would be a genderfluid omnisexual furry

🦇🔫 CONS:

not worth even looking at unless you enjoy being annoyed by your partner

Mr Cards

white on the chessboard, with everything that implies

unironic mr wines stan, with everything that implies

no, seriously. he's hopelessly in love with mr wines. Hopelessly.

can never shut up to save her life. she Will have thoughts and you Will hear them always and forever.

so dumb. just. just So Dumb.

actual comical levels of self-absorbed. like. you know the kind of guy who says "oh my me" because he thinks he's comparable to god? the scoundrel is very very very very very close to reaching that level of awful.

smug. mischievous. often outright mean. will make fun of you and hurt your feelings and feel bad for approximately 10 seconds before shrugging it off and getting drunk on opera music

he's,,, shall we say, disconnected from reality at the best of times. his mind operates on 7777 layers of denial at all times and if you try to remove one he screams and runs away

no seriously he really really really really really wants mr wines carnally

his body is covered in violant veins and marks, to the point where looking at him naked for a prolonged period of time is probably legally classified as a biohazard

refuses to take off his bandages unless either directly ordered or placed under extreme duress. for obvious reasons, this can make smashing somewhat difficult

bourgeoisie :/

[oh-wiw]

✦ Masterpost ✦ Part 2 ✦

Shifting around you slowly open your eyes. When did you even close them? It was already evening. Shifting your head around to be greeted with the moon and its starless night sky. You groan and rub your temples, ignoring the electric feeling of your arms for using them as your pillows last night.

Ah, yes the consequence of sleeping on your desk instead of the perfectly made bed beside it…

Despite it, you're still exhausted.

✧✧✧✧✧

That's been happening a lot recently. Every time you close your eyes to sleep or rest. You feel even more exhausted than when you were awake.

It was mostly dreamless sleep for you or maybe you just don't remember the details of your dreams.

You stretch, trying to soothe your back from sleeping at your desk. The bright screen from your laptop easily caught your attention, your profile pic is displayed in the center. Seems like you slept in voice call again, you quickly type something on chat and shut off the device.

Elegantly dragging your body to bed, and flopping head first onto the mattress. You stayed there for a moment, shifting your head to your side so that you could breathe. You close your eyes and letting sleep overtake you as your body relaxes. And it came slowly but surely, as you feel yourself starting to drift off. Allowing sleep to embrace you. 

However, before it fully enveloped you. You jolt awake exclaiming, "My resins!"

Now fully conscious, you frantically get your phone and log into the game.

You hoped that your game would run smoothly this time, after experiencing some technical difficulties earlier in the day. The game unexpectedly disconnected while you were opening chests, and your attempt to log back in was met with a loading bar that refused to move.

This wasn't the first time it happened, so you weren't too worried at first. Thinking it was most likely something wrong with Genshin itself, as your game either kept freezing or just plain glitching. Even when you log in your account on your laptop, the problem just kept following you. 

You didn’t bother to report it or ask the others if they have the same issue. Because it only rarely happens and you were still able to play the game. So there wasn't really a problem. Besides your phone burning up, but that's just normal.

You just hope that it’ll actually let you enter the game. All you need is to use all your resin and then you'll go back to bed. The stone door creaks open, and you set your eyes on the loading screen, waiting for the Pyro element symbol to make its appearance. But it never did. 

Guess you’ll just let your resin cap today. Annoyed, you place your phone on the bed and gaze at the ceiling. Your vision is slightly blurred, and a headache is threatening to form. You attempt to relax your body, starting by massaging your temples to alleviate the pain in your head.

Why are you having a headache right now? you pondered, figuring since you did miss dinner today… and yesterday… and the day after that��.

… 

Finally concerned for your health, you decided to get out of bed and head to the kitchen to eat something. Bur not forgetting to pocket your phone.

Upon reaching out your hand to turn the knob, you are overcome with a sudden bout of excruciating pain. Your headache worsens, as the room begins to spin, and your vision turns completely white. Your body collapses to the door, as you frantically grab onto the knob in search of support, but to no avail, in your weakened state, you accidentally open the door and tumble to the ground.

Lying there for an undetermined amount of time, you concentrate on your breathing, attempting to lessen the agonizing pain. After a while, the pain began to fade leaving you with a sense of discomfort. Although you remained to lie on the ground, gathering your thoughts on what just happened. 

It wasn't until you start to take notice of prickling sensations on your skin and how the cold wind blows- Wait wind?!

You immediately push yourself and are greeted by the sight of the towering cliff and millions of glittering stars. The purple and blue hue, which contrasted perfectly with the vast, dark night sky, captured your eyes and the bright, glowing Moon accompanied the starry vista. It all filled you with disbelief and confusion.

You weren’t able to appreciate its captivating beauty, not when your eyes are stuck in the distance, where a familiar island floats in the sky.

Struck silent, you stay staring at the horizon thinking it’ll fade and disappear if you stare hard enough. But to no avail, it didn't. So you try to blink away the view but it still refuses to disappear from your vision. "No, this cannot be happening," you mutter, as panic starts to settle in. 

A moment ago, you were in your apartment; how did you end up in such a familiar yet foreign place? Struggling to make sense of your situation, you become overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness and uncertainty, desperately trying to understand why you are here and how to get back, but no explanation comes to mind. 

With shallow, erratic breaths, you attempt to collect yourself and look around, only to see a field surrounded by towering cliffs and the remnants of old Mondstadt. A gentle teal glow emanates from the center tower you know is called Stromterror’s Lair, what was supposed to be only fiction: further on adding to your confusion and fear.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, easing your tension, as you try to hold off the mounting sense of panic that threatens to overtake you. You remind yourself that everything will be okay, that this is just a weird dream that your brain decided to mess with you.

Not wanting to look at the sight and to stir further panic within yourself, you looked down instead. Your hands grip the grass beneath you. You can feel the texture of the soil as it shifts under your hands, and the sensation of the prickly grass prickling your skin sends shivers down your spine. 

This is one hell of a vivid dream.

Shaking off the overwhelming feeling, you quickly get to your feet to leave. But as you turn around, you were only greeted by a lone, stony arch, with overgrown ruins positioned behind it. Disbelief and utter confusion wash over you as you begin to question if you've lost your sanity or if you are suffering from some sort of mental break or delusion.

You stood still for a moment as your breathing started to go heavy. The archway still looms before you, reminding you of your confusing reality. So you closed your eyes and forcefully took a deep breath. Gently pulling your hair back to soothe yourself for a moment. 

You know exactly what to do. 

There’s only one logical action for this situation.

✧✧✧✧✧

Somewhere far, on a large tree where the wind is always blowing there sits a green-clad bard in one of the tree's many branches. Cider by his side, the bard strums a lovely tune throughout the night. 

It’s a peaceful night in Mondstat, and everyone is laid to rest as the bright moon looks over the knights who guards the city. The wind tells bard wishes and stories, making him chuckle and hum in introspection.

Until a scream was heard making the bard jolt from his spot and almost dropping his lyre. He wondered why the wind brought him such a sound. 

Seems like the sound came from between Stromterror’s Lair and Wolvendom, the wind more noted specifically at Brightcrown Mountains. As he lilt his head to look west where the ruins of old Mondstadt lay.

“Who could be awake at this time of day… and more importantly are they okay?”

✧✧✧✧✧

✦ Masterpost ✦ Part 2 ✦