#the jump from one to the other and back again is a constant source of fascination for me

[polyteleology]

If you want to have a look at the ATU (Aarne Thompson Uther) Index of Folk Tales:

The Multilingual Folk Tales Database (which includes the ATU Index) is saved on the Internet Archive

The Kalevala Society Foundation has PDF copies of the 2nd printing in 2011: Part I, Part II, and Part III

GUYS THIS IS AMAZING

SERIOUSLY

6000 YEARS

STORIES THAT ARE OLDER THAN CIVILIZATIONS

STORIES THAT WERE TOLD BY PEOPLE SPEAKING LANGUAGES WE NO LONGER KNOW

STORIES TOLD BY PEOPLE LOST TO THE VOID OF TIME

STORIES

[velarisnightsky444]

Scorched Shadows: Part 12

Eris x Azriel's Sister OC

Summary: Estella is the younger sister of Azriel. Like her older brother, she is a shadowsinger and spymaster for the Night Court. When she meets Eris, she initially despises him, but after a bargain is made between them, and they are stuck Under the Mountain together, things begin heating up.

CW: Overprotective brother, smut, degradation, impact play

A/N: I'm well aware it has been forever, I promise I am going to do better, I've just been very busy. I am going through and editing some stuff in past chapters, and I am adding in the fact that they can talk to each other through the bond.

Word Count: 1895

Series Masterlist

Part 11 || Part 13(upcoming)

»»————-　♔　————-««

     Estella sometimes visited Eris late at night when she couldn't sleep. She only did this when she could sense his thoughts buzzing around in his restless head, and she knew he was also awake. She didn't disrupt him when he was sleeping peacefully, though that was rare.

     She would hide her dagger beneath her skirts, throw a shawl over her shoulders, and pinch her cheeks to add color before leaving. She didn't want him to see her looking entirely exhausted.

     The stroll down the corridors was anything but peaceful, especially at night. But she couldn't winnow without her shadows, and flying would only bring attention to herself.

     But she had a weapon, and she was ready to strike. She never did see that male again, the one she stabbed in the face. She still wasn't sure why she panicked so much when she had spent centuries doing the same thing.

     Maybe it was the implication of what he had wanted to do to her, whereas the males she had killed in the past had been assigned to her. They were not after her directly, not until she began targeting them.

     But Eris had been a comfort. He had held her all night, which had surprised them both, it seemed. Since then, he had become softer with her. She found that she didn't mind that.

     Estella liked seeing his softer side. She felt special like she was the only one that got to see him that way. Then, she would scold herself for feeling like that. He was a Vanserra, for Cauldron's sake. She wasn't allowed to feel that way.

"Estella," the voice said, causing her to freeze. Her eyes jumped from the tile in front of her to the source of the sound.

     Rhys stood with his brows furrowed, taking her in. He was looking worse every time she saw him. His skin had gone pale, his face gaunt, and he'd lost a significant amount of weight and muscle. His violet eyes had lost the life they used to have in them.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked her, his voice quieter than usual.

"I couldn't sleep," Estella said honestly. "I needed to go for a walk; get my mind off things."

"In this part of the Mountain? At this time of night?" he doubted, raising a brow. She shrugged, doing everything she could not to crumble under his assessing gaze.

"It's not as cold out here as it is in my bedroom," she said quietly, staring at the floor.

"You have a fireplace," he reminded her.

     Her head snapped up, and she shot him a look, one that reminded him she would not touch a fireplace with a ten-foot pole. His gaze softened just slightly.

"Let's go back to your room," he decided. "I'll light the fire for you."

"Rhys, I'm fine," she insisted, glancing at the path she was taking to Eris's room.

"We're going back to your room, Stella," he repeated in a way that let her know he wasn't asking.

     She didn't argue; she just followed him as he took hold of her arm and led her the opposite way from where she was heading. She grumbled to herself, irritated at her brother's constant, overprotective antics.

     She felt a shiver go through her body when she returned to her bedroom. It was utterly freezing in her quarters, and she knew Amarantha did that purposefully.

     Estella sat on the bed, wrapping the shawl tighter around her shoulders. Rhys went to the fireplace, kneeling before it. She watched as he placed a few pieces of wood in it and lit the fire.

"Thank you," she said softly.

     He nodded, getting to his feet. He came over to her, ruffling her hair affectionately.

"I love you, little shadow," he said.

     Estella smiled softly, knowing it didn't reach her eyes. Rhys leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then left her alone, wrapped in her shawl and shivering.

     Even with the fire going, she couldn't sleep. The cold was bitter, and even though she was Illyrian, she was sensitive to it. She remembered being a little girl in that cell and how cold it was. She would curl up in her brother's arms, her entire body trembling, trying to stay warm. It was never any use. The rags they wore were always ripped, short-sleeved, and made of thin material.

"Are you still awake?" Estella asked Eris through the bond, hating that she was craving his comfort. It took a moment for his reply to come through, but it did.

"Yes. Where are you? I thought you were on your way."

     He sounded irritated, making her roll her eyes, but she answered anyway. "Rhys found me in the corridors, and he made me go back to my room."

"How old does he think you are?"

"I'll never be older than six to him. You'll have to come here."

"I wasn't planning on leaving my room tonight," he drawled.

"Too bad," Estella responded. "Get over here as soon as you can."

     Eris didn't argue with that, though his side of the bond went silent. She spent the next ten minutes wondering if he would show at all. She didn't want to beg, but she certainly wasn't above it.

     However, she found that there was no need for that when her door opened. Eris looked tired, and Estella didn't blame him. She knew he hadn't been sleeping lately. Neither of them had. It was hard in a place like the Mountain.

"It's freezing in here," he murmured as he closed the door behind him. 

     He glanced at the flickering fire, waving his hand. The flames leaped higher and glowed brighter, making Estella flinch. "It's fine. It'll warm up the room faster."

"I want you to warm me up," Estella hinted, sitting up and letting her shawl drop from her shoulders. A smirk fell upon his features, one that made her want him even more.

     He stepped over to her bed in very few strides, crawling on top of the girl. She laid back down, smiling as he hovered over her, his hands on either side of her head.

     His lips met her jaw, peppering kisses, leaving her sighing softly beneath him. He trailed down her neck slowly, stopping in her most sensitive spots to suck just slightly, leaving her with marks she knew she would spend the next week concealing. 

     His teeth closed around the strap of her dress, pulling it down from her shoulder to her arm. She helped him get the dress off her, but it wasn't much of a struggle.

     When she was bare beneath him, he sat up, fumbling with his belt as he pulled his cock out of his pants. It was rare that he fully undressed during sex or took his shirt off at all, but she never commented on it.

     He slid a hand down to her core first, rubbing tight circles on her clit with his thumb as he slipped two fingers inside of her. She groaned, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut.

"Ready for me so early?" he teased, commenting on the wetness he had found waiting for him. She nodded. "Such a desperate slut."

     Her core clenched at the words, and he pressed one more kiss to her neck before wrapping his arms around her shoulders and flipping her around so she was on top.

"Sit up and ride me," he instructed. "If you want it to bad, take it yourself.”

     Estella pushed herself up, hands braced on his chest, to a sitting position. She took his perfect cock in her hands, pumping it a few times, delighting in the way it twitched in her palm.

     He groaned as she lowered her cunt to him, very slowly sliding down onto his cock. She whimpered at the slight pain she always felt when he bottomed out.

     Estella began riding him, her pace slow at first so she could get used to the fullness—the pain. He grasped her hair in his hand, pulling it forcefully. She whined, staring at the ceiling as her head was forced back, their pace speeding up.

     His other hand came down hard on her ass, a smack sounding through the room. She cried out, more in pleasure than pain, her hand reaching down to rub her clit. He smacked her rear once again, and she knew there'd be marks in the morning.

“Harder, Eris," Estella moaned out, desperate amid her pleasure.

     His hips began jutting up to meet hers, and the smacks to her ass sped up, getting harsher each time.

"You like that, you filthy whore?" he snarled. She could only nod, tears welling in her eyes. "Use your words."

"Yes, I like that, Eris," Estella gasped out, voice breaking between moans.

     He let go of her hair, though a stinging sensation remained at her scalp. He gripped her breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them in a way that made her wild.

     Eris loved her breasts, which had been evident since their first time. He often took his time with them, teasing, pinching, and squeezing.

     Estella was getting close, but she needed something more, something she hadn't craved in centuries. She craned her head up, forcing herself to meet his eyes in her pleasure.

"Touch my wings," Estella gasped out.

"What?" he asked through his pants.

"My wings," she repeated, grabbing his wrist.

     She guided his hand directly to that perfect spot on her wing, demonstrating how to touch it.

"Rub small circles," she managed, her eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

     He obeyed, rubbing circles on her wing, gentle at first.

"Harder."

     He took her command, his movements quickening as he pressed harder on the spot.

"Oh, Gods," Estella cried out, bouncing on his cock, throwing her head back. She hadn't ever felt pleasure so intense. "Please, may I cum?"

“Now?"

“Yes, now, please," she begged. "I can't hold it back."

“Cum, then," he allowed, and she thanked the Cauldron that he was feeling gracious today.

     Estella cried out, cumming harder than she ever had, her core clenching around his cock. The feeling sent him over the edge, and not long after, he released inside of the girl.

     She collapsed on top of him the moment she came down from her heavenly high, fingers clenching his shoulders as her body shuddered from the aftershocks. He was so warm.

"Your wings, huh?" he teased softly into her ear. 

"It's an Illyrian thing," Estella explained through labored breaths.

"Why have you never told me that?" he wondered, quirking a brow. "I've never seen you cum like that before."

"I've only ever let one other male do that," Estella said, rolling off of him and settling under her blanket, still naked. "It's not something I usually allow."

     The first male she'd ever slept with, her first love, Marcus, had been the one to introduce this concept to her. But after he'd broken her heart, she didn't want any males doing it again. Eris, however, was different.

“What makes me so special?" Eris asked her as he tucked his cock back into his pants. 

"I'm not sure," Estella answered honestly. "It just felt right at the moment."

"Can you cum from your wings alone?" he interrogated.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "There needs to be another form of stimulation."

"Oh, I will have fun with this," he smirked.

     Estella flushed a deep red, almost regretting giving him this information. Almost.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Scorched Shadows Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @hnyclover @lilyevansstudygroup @esposadomd @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @a-court-of-mischief-and-madness @sourapplex @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @i-know-i-can @mp-littlebit @paintedbyshadows @kristijenner19 @kitsunetori @lorosette @bookwormysblog @libraryofshan @historygeekqueen @eyes-capone @prettty-thing

Eris Taglist:

If there is a line through it, it won’t let me tag you.

Comment to be added to the tag lists!

»»————-　♔　————-««

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Mammalia - Lagomorpha

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Our Our next mammalian order and first of the clade Glires is Lagomorpha. Lagomorphs are separated into two living families: Leporidae (“rabbits”, including “hares”) and Ochotonidae (“pikas”).

Lagomorphs are characterized by having four incisors in the upper jaw (smaller peg teeth behind larger incisors), whereas rodents only have two. Like rodents, their incisors grow continuously, requiring constant chewing on fibrous food to prevent the teeth from growing too long. All lagomorph teeth grow continuously (for most rodents, only the incisors grow continuously). They have no paw pads, instead, the bottoms of their paws are entirely covered with fur. Rabbits move by jumping, pushing off with their strong hind legs and using their forelimbs to soften the impact on landing. Lagomorphs are almost strictly herbivorous. Pikas are known for making "haypiles" of dried vegetation which they collect and carry back to their homes to store for use during winter, since they do not hibernate. Lagomorphs are widespread around the world and inhabit every continent except Antarctica. However, they are not found in most of the southern cone of South America, in the West Indies, Indonesia, or Madagascar, nor on many islands. They are not native to Australia, but have been introduced there by humans.

Lagomorphs are unusual among terrestrial mammals in that the females are usually larger than males. Many lagomorphs breed several times a year and produce large litters. The young of rabbits and pikas (called kits, or leverets in hares) are born after a short gestation period and the mother can become pregnant again almost immediately after giving birth. Most lagomorph newborns are altricial (born with no fur and their eyes and ears closed), while true hares (genus Lepus) are precocial (born fully furred with their eyes and ears open). The mothers are able to leave their kits safely and go off to feed, returning at intervals to feed them with their unusually rich milk. In some species, the mother only visits and feeds the litter once a day but the kits grow rapidly and are usually weaned within a month. Most burrowing lagomorph species are colonial, feed together in groups, and have multiple large litters throughout the year. Non-burrowing species are typically solitary and have one or two smaller litters each year.

The evolutionary history of the lagomorphs is still not well understood. In the late 20th century, it was generally agreed that Eurymylus, which lived in eastern Asia and dates back to the Late Paleocene or Early Eocene, was an ancestor of the lagomorphs. Further examination of fossil evidence suggests that the lagomorphs may have instead descended from mimotonids, mammals present in Asia during the Paleogene with similar body size and dental structure to early European rabbits such as Megalagus turgidus, while Eurymylus was more closely related to rodents. The Leporids first appeared in the Late Eocene and rapidly spread throughout the Northern Hemisphere. The pikas appeared somewhat later in the Oligocene of eastern Asia. Today, lagomorph lineages seem to be declining, as they were far more diverse in prehistory.

Propaganda under the cut:

The smallest living leporid is the Pygmy Rabbit (Brachylagus idahoensis) (image 3) with adults weighing between 375 and 500 grams (0.8 and 1.1 lb), and having a body length between 23.5 and 29.5 cm (9.3 and 11.6 in). The Pygmy Rabbit is the only leporid native to North America that digs its own burrow.

Unlike many other rabbits, the critically endangered Riverine Rabbit (Bunolagus monticularis) has a low breeding rate of only one to two offspring per year.

The Riverine Rabbit provides a benefit to farmers by causing the riverine vegetation that it eats to bind to the soil and prevent soil erosion through flooding. Through this process, the vegetation allows for filtration of rainwater into groundwater. This benefits farmers, who rely on windmills to draw up water from the ground for their livestock.

The endangered Hispid Hare (Caprolagus hispidus) is only seen sporadically, and was thought to be extinct prior to its rediscovery in Bornadi Wildlife Sanctuary in 1971. It was not seen between 1984 and January 2016.

Many rabbits and pikas rely on their burrows to escape from predators, but the long-legged hares (genus Lepus) rely on their speed and jinking gait to escape from danger. Hares can run up to 80 km/h (50 mph) over short distances.

Some hares turn white in the Winter, to better camouflage against the snow.

In the Spring, the normally shy and solitary hares can be seen congregating and members of both sexes will have leaping and “boxing” competitions. During the mating season, males will not only box to compete over females, but females may box to dissuade males they don’t want to mate with, or test a male’s determination and fitness. This sudden rise in chasing, leaping, and boxing behavior gave rise to the idiom "mad as a March hare".

The European Hare (Lepus europaeus) is one of the largest lagomorph species, with a head and body length of 60 to 75 cm (2 to 2.5 ft), and added tail length of 7.2 to 11 cm (2.8 to 4.3 in). Its body mass is typically between 3 and 5 kg (6.6 and 11 lb). It is rivaled by the Alaskan Hare (Lepus othus) which can measure between 50–70 centimetres (1.7–2.3 ft) in length, with the tail measuring up to an additional 8 centimetres (3.1 in), but weighing between 2.9 to 7.2 kg (6.4 to 15.9 lb).

The Snowshoe Hare (Lepus americanus) and the Arctic Hare (Lepus arcticus) (image 1) have been known to occasionally scavenge dead animals. This is an adaptation to their Wintry environment, where nutrients are scarce.

Mountain Hares (Lepus timidus) are routinely shot in the Scottish Highlands both as part of paid hunting "tours" and by gamekeepers managing Red Grouse (Lagopus scotica) populations (who believe that Mountain Hares are vectors of disease that could affect the birds). Much of this activity is secretive, but investigations have revealed that tens of thousands of hares are being culled every year.

At the Yangjiesha site of Loess Plateau, there has been found evidence of neolithic humans taming local Tolai Hares (Lepus tolai).

One of the rarest lagomorphs in the world is the Sumatran Striped Rabbit (Nesolagus netscheri). It was so rare that locals did not have a name for it, or even for rabbits, as they had never seen it. It is rarely observed in camera traps and by scientists. Nevertheless, in 2022 officials scrambled when a farmer was caught attempting to sell a Sumatran Striped Rabbit he caught in a flash flood on Facebook. Kerinci Seblat National Park authorities confiscated the rabbit and returned it to the wild.

Domestic Rabbits (Oryctolagus cuniculus domesticus) were domesticated from European Rabbits (Oryctolagus cuniculus) for their fur and meat by the Romans around the 1st Century BC, though “house rabbits” only began to be strongly promoted around the 1980s. Today there are hundreds of rabbit breeds originating from all over the world. Domestic Rabbits can be trained to use a litter box and taught to come when called, but they require exercise and can damage a house or injure themselves if it has not been suitably “rabbit-proofed”, because of their innate need to chew. Rabbits are the third most abandoned pet in the United States, especially after the Easter holiday. Domestic Rabbits, bred for generations by humans to be docile, lack survival instincts and perish in the wild if they are abandoned or escape from captivity.

The endangered Amami Rabbit (Pentalagus furnessi) (image 2) is often called a “living fossil”, as it is a remnant of ancient rabbits that once lived on the Asian mainland, where they died out, remaining only on two small Japanese islands where they live today. They are threatened by invasive Domestic Cats, Dogs, and Small Indian Mongooses (Urva auropunctata).

When threatened, the Swamp Rabbit (Sylvilagus aquaticus) can leap into the water and swim, sometimes keeping only their nose and eyes above the water.

Lagomorphs can process easily digestible food in their gastrointestinal tract and expel it as regular feces. But, in order to get nutrients out of hard to digest fiber, lagomorphs ferment fiber in their cecum (in the GI tract) and then expel the contents as cecotropes, which are then reingested (cecotrophy) or stored for later. The cecotropes are absorbed in the small intestine to best utilize the nutrients.

The Sardinian Pika (Prolagus sardus) went extinct sometime between 393 BC and the 6th century AD. It was the last surviving member of Prolagus, a genus of lagomorph with a fossil record spanning 20 million years once widespread throughout Europe during the Miocene and Pliocene epochs. The Sardinian Pika was much stockier and more robust than living pikas, and it probably resembled a sort of cross between a large wild rabbit and a pika. Its extinction was possibly due to agricultural practices, the introduction of predators (dogs, cats, and ferrets), ecological competitors (rodents and rabbits), and/or transmission of pathogens by rabbits introduced to Sardinia and Corsica by the Romans. Today, only the pika genus Ochotona remains.

The Chinese Red Pika (Ochotona erythrotis) is one of the largest pika species, averaging a length of 18 to 29 cm (7-11.4 in). They have both a Winter and Summer pelt. In the Summer, the Chinese Red Pika has a coat that is rusty-red at the head and chest and fades into grey towards the tail. In the Winter, the pika is mostly grey with a slight tint of red in the ear region.

The Ili Pika (Ochotona iliensis) is also known as the “Magic Rabbit”. It is endangered, with approximately fewer than 1,000 left.

Collared Pikas (Ochotona collaris) have been known to store dead birds in their burrows for food during winter.

The Steppe Pika (Ochotona pusilla) has been called a relict of the Late Pliocene on the basis of its fossil record, molar structure, karyological traits, and mtDNA sequence data. During the Pleistocene its range was larger and included most of Europe.

The endangered Hoffmann's Pika (Ochotona hoffmanni) is not social, except for with its mate. Pairs will claim territory together and share a hay-storage, which they store together. They are very territorial of their claimed rock formation.

In the mountains of Eurasia, pikas often share their burrows with snowfinches (genus Montifringilla), which build their nests there.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: Night Fall

Hey hey! This weekend I'm doing more drabble roulette. I'm still recovering and I'm feel a bit blah and foggy.

I randomised a list of characters, then I spin a wheel and white for the character beside the number. Then I spin the wheel to choose a prompt from a list.

Character: August Walker

Warnings: this drabble includes violence and allusions to abuse. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Prompt: Beating up your friends for trying to "take you away" from him. (source)

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

The pads of your feet ache. Your hands are dry and raw as you wring them endlessly. You’re dizzy for more than the circles you walk in. 

You’re waiting. 

This calm will not last. The storm will break. You stop before the window and stare out at the sheen of moonlight that glazes the landscape. The garden Jolie tends in the early morning, her children’s bikes leaning against the shed, a plastic slide and kiddie pool. 

Your feet start again. It won’t last. It never does. There’s only one thing that’s constant. 

“Hon,” Jolie’s voice wafts from the staircase. 

You don’t answer. She’s not talking to you. It must by her daughter having another nightmare. 

A shadow comes down the stairs. Jolie steps into the slats of silver light beaming in from the screen door. You stop and stare at her. She sighs. 

“I thought I heard something. You should get some sleep.” She speaks to you like one of the children. 

“I can’t,” you go back to pacing, rubbing that raw spot on your cheek. 

“Honey,” she comes up to stop you. “You’re safe here.” 

You’re not. You keep telling her and she keeps ignoring you. She takes you gently by your shoulders and makes you face her. She draws your hand away from your cheek. 

“I have some cream. You should put it on that blemish. Looks like it hurts.” 

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” You flinch and stop yourself from the mindless chant. How many times did you assure yourself of the same through gagging tears. 

“I know, honey. I know.” 

He slips her hand down to yours and takes you gently behind the kitchen island. She sits you on one of the tall seats along it. You wince at the weight on your pelvis. That’s another reason you fled the guest bed. 

She flicks on the overhead light. You shade your eyes. She squeezes your hand before she turns away. You stay as you are. You don’t want to upset her. You hate when people are angry. When he is. 

She returns with a pot of cream. She unscrews the cap. She looks at you hesitantly as she raises the cotton pad to your cheek. Her eyes wander down to the other patches around your neck, peeking out above the night shirt she lent you. 

“Do you remember,” her voice is solemn, “in college. We used those charcoal masks... and it took my eyebrow clean off?” 

She laughs softly, almost shyly, as if she’s scared too. Your throat clicks. You can’t remember the last time you laughed but it’s funny to think about that. It’s so far away it feels like it never happened. 

“Yeah, it still doesn’t look right,” you say. 

She makes a face as she gently applies the cool cream. 

“We’ll find something nicer for this,” she says. “Maybe some aloe.” 

You let her tend to you, flinching despite her softness. You feel her hesitation as you do. You can’t help but tense at her touch. You’re not used to one so delicate. 

“Jo,” Marc’s voice precedes him down the stairs. His deeper cadence makes you freeze. “Everything okay?” 

“All good,” she calls back. “Kids are sleeping. We’re just chatting.” 

He comes into view. He looks at you and crosses his arms. You know he’s not happy about this. You’re invading his house. You’re Jolie’s friend, not her responsibility. 

“Right, well... it’s late. Kids got school tomorrow.” 

“Oh, I know, hon,” Jolie crumples up the pad and throws it in the bin. “I’ll get them where they need to go.” 

He clucks. “Just want to make sure. I have a big meeting--” 

There’s a sudden hammering. Splintering like thunder. You jump from the chair and scurry into the corner of the counter. It’s him! You told them. 

Marc’s face lines and Jolie stands straight. They stare at each other. 

“Tell him to go away,” Jolie hisses. 

“Fucking Christ,” Marc turns and strides down the hall to the entry way. You hear the subtle click of the door cam. “Go before I call the cops.” 

“She’s in there!” August hollers through. “I’m not fucking stupid.” 

“I’m giving you a warning, man. No one wants to deal with police right now--” 

“Give her to me!” 

“Keep it down. The kids are sleep--” 

The crack of wood makes you scream. You nestle into the bend of the counter as Jolie rushes toward the front door. The home alarm starts to chime. Footsteps clamour on the floor beyond your sight. 

You cower and sink down, whimpering, shielding your head. You look up from beneath your arms as you hear the grunts and the pleas in the struggle. Something thumps and Jolie squeals. The children upstairs call for their mom as she runs back into the kitchen. She’s flung into the counter and sprawls onto the tile not far from you. 

You heave with sobs as his footfalls march around the island and step over Jolie’s unmoving body. He doesn’t say a word as he scoops you up. You don’t either. He carries you out amid the wails of the children clinging to the slats of the railing like a prison cell. 

“Time to go home,” he snarls. 

[flooffybits]

Tell Me

Idol: Hirai Momo (Twice)

Momo has conflicting feelings that she doesn't quite understand. So someone has to knock some sense into her.

Word count: 3.2k

Warning: mean Momo, reader gets sick, Jihyo and Jeongyeon are angry

☕buy me a coffee☕

Things within the group have been a little more comforting as of late. Even with your late addition to the team, you all seemed to gradually get along with all of the girls, especially with having to deal with constant comebacks and late night practices.

Except for one person.

"Unnie, do you want to come with Mina and I?" You ask with a little bit of a hopeful look in your eyes, but the older woman didn't even bother looking your way as she shook her head, eyes trained on the device in her hands. "I'm busy, have fun though." She answered curtly and your shoulders deflated a little before you nodded in defeat, exiting the room to meet with the other Japanese woman.

Once she heard the door close, Momo finally lifted her gaze and let out a sigh, glancing at the door you just exited from. A frown crept up her lips and she had to roll her eyes before grabbing her bag and then waiting a few more minutes just so she was sure you still wouldn't be around.

Once she hears the sound of the front door closing, Momo takes that as a sign and finally moves from her spot, shoving her phone inside her pocket as she navigates herself through the kitchen.

"So, you're busy with… what, exactly?"

The short haired woman jumps in surprise, squeaking before she whirls around to look at the source of the voice that had nearly given her a heart attack before shouting. "Yah! Don't do that!" She protests while Jihyo gives her an odd look.

"You're ignoring Y/n." The leader doesn't beat around the bush when she speaks and Momo has a bit of a hard time collecting herself from the sudden accusation that wasn't entirely false.

In all honesty she doesn't have a clue on how to get out of this, and unfortunately for her Jihyo already senses it before she can even manage a sound.

"I thought we talked about this before, Momo?" Said member only sighs while leaning against the kitchen counter. "I know! But every time I see her I just… I don't know! I feel so unsettled whenever she's around and I can't help but distance myself from her." She explains, exasperation laced in her tone as she ran her fingers through her hair. "And I know that she hasn't done anything but I just can't help but remember how much we went through to get here."

"And Y/n has gone through the same. The only difference is that she was alone while we had each other." Jihyo reminds her for the umpteenth time that Momo doesn't even remember how many times she's heard that from the leader or even any of the other members. They were right no matter how she looked at it.

She could never change how things went. She could never truly blame you for being assigned here either. It wasn't your fault.

You didn't ask to be here.

Momo could always remember the hesitation you had displayed when you were first presented to the group. There was shame in your features that none of the girls could blame you for and she's honestly guilty for being so hostile since the beginning.

You weren't a bad person.

In essence, you were one of the nicer people that she's met in this industry and she would consider themselves lucky to have such nice and caring members.

That was why the guilt never went away because she wasn't nice.

Not to you at least.

"I know." Is all she can say and Jihyo doesn't quite understand what she's thinking because her expression right now is unreadable. "Sorry but I… think I need some air."

Jihyo doesn't even stop her when she exits the dorm nor does she question where she's headed. At times like these, Momo only had only one other place to head to.

"Momo unnie isn't back yet?" Tzuyu's question earns a few of the members to look over and Nayeon just shakes her head. "She's probably with Heechul oppa again."

It wasn't an abnormal occurrence, the majority of the group, if not all, knew that your senior had a crush on the dancer. But only a few of them knew that it had already exceeded that level of admiration between them. It just wasn't their secret to tell.

"They've been going out a lot." Sana comments while she fiddles with her phone. "Do you think they're actually dating now?" She can't help but ask and Chaeyoung raises a brow. "Aren't we prohibited from being in a relationship?" The younger girl can't help but question, sharing your own thoughts because you knew that there was a dating ban when it came to artists.

Jeongyeon snorts while leaning her chin against her arms. "We don't always follow the rules, plus it won't be long before that ban is lifted. I wouldn't be surprised if they're already going out together." Somehow the comment makes you uneasy.

Maybe it's the thought of your member getting into possible trouble with the higher ups. But given how your members aren't too bothered, you try to shrug the feeling off before focusing on the game that was currently on your phone with Dahyun beside you.

You don't even remember how long you've been in the living room. You only know that you refused to leave until Momo had returned home. Even when your roommates were telling you to head to bed, you just made some excuse about being comfortable where you are and wanting to finish the game.

You didn't even know when you fell asleep on the couch.

Nayeon had only sighed and shook her head at you before she grabbed a blanket and draped it over your body, patting your head as she headed for her own room.

Jihyo had noticed you when she went to grab some water, but she had stopped at some point, hiding in the corner when she noticed that Momo had finally arrived and was crouched over your sleeping figure.

Blinking in surprise, the leader quietly watched as the Japanese woman examined your face, her brows pinching together in concern when she saw the way you were sleeping before she muttered something under her breath.

Carefully adjusting your position, she made sure you were comfortable and tucked you in, too tired to carry you to your room before she quietly exited the vicinity so as to avoid being caught.

After that night, Jihyo pays a lot more attention to how Momo acts when she thinks no one else is looking.

Momo cares about your opinion more than she'd care to admit. She always has to look in your direction when she's doing something and it's only when you smile or nod does she feel like she can breathe again.

It makes absolutely no sense if you ask her.

But when you're getting compliments from everyone else, she can't help the frown that settles on her face or the way her chest constricts as though there are a pile of bricks laying there.

So she distances herself so she doesn't have to feel that and it only earns itself a frown from you because you think that the rift between the two of you is nowhere near narrowing. She's still so far away from you and it both confuses and frustrates your leader because she sees that Momo is going one way then another.

She can see the effect it has on you and while she does scold the dancer from time to time, she can't help but bite her tongue when she sees that you've opted to be the one to adjust instead.

Your leader was merely a spectator to the odd relationship you and Momo had, dancing around each other but never meeting due to fear and rejection, while the other with uncertainty. It was a difficult relationship to appreciate, and at some point, one of your roommates soon noticed this push and pull as well when she caught Momo peeking inside your room one day when you had fallen ill and failed to participate in one of the events you had scheduled.

"What's… going on?" Jeongyeon muttered curiously the next day, passing by the dancer who had subtly checked the door of your room when the short haired woman left.

"What do you mean?" The culprit was quick to reply, doing her best to seem casual while Jihyo, once again, watched from the side. "You do know that you can just come in to check on her, right?" It was becoming ridiculous at this point, really. Despite being one of the older members of the group, Jihyo was very close to scolding the dancer for the way she had noticed her acting.

Momo, on the other hand, just looked like a deer in headlights as she blinked owlishly. She isn't sure what to say. “I just wanted to be sure if she's still sick. I don't want to get sick too." That was definitely what she wanted to say.

Jeongyeon’s face scrunched up in displeasure while Jihyo scowled.

“Look, I get that you're not her biggest fan, but don't treat her like she's not a person. If you don't wanna get sick, then don't come near her.” The short haired woman scolded and Momo had to cross her arms, defensive as she retorted. "I was just saying! I didn't mean anything by it.” She tells them and Jihyo just sighs while shaking her head. "Momo, enough. Just go somewhere else."

The comment earns a scoff from the dancer, but the thing that irritates her is how she's being told to stay away from you.

"What? You're kicking me out?” She snapped angrily but Jihyo only shook her head. “I don't care where you go right now as long as it's not anywhere near Y/n."

"This isn't healthy, Momo. I hope you realize that.” Jeongyeon spits out before she turns and enters your room, shutting the door behind her and refusing to give the Japanese woman a chance to respond.

She's had enough and you needed her more at the moment rather than Momo needed to be taught a lesson. Plus Jihyo was there and judging by the look on her face, Jeongyeon could tell that the leader would be more than accepting of the role of scolding their friend.

“You guys need to stop arguing like this." All of a sudden a new voice cut through, beating the leader off before she could utter a single sound. “We're all adults here but you're acting like children." A frown is present on Nayeon's face as she looks at the two. “We're supposed to be the unnies here. But you guys are creating a bad vibe that no one can enjoy.” She sighed out and Momo scoffed. “I'm not doing anything.”

“Oh, cut it with that bullshit. We know that you don't like Y/n but at least be civil!” Nayeon scolded, taking the reign this time whilst Jihyo listened. “How can we be a group when you're acting like one person should be left out? How are you setting an example?” She went off as Momo looked away with a huff though the twinge in her chest tells that Nayeon had hit her mark. “Y/n isn’t some outsider, Momo. She’s here to stay so get that through your head.”

There’s a pregnant pause as the three of them stood in the middle of the room, Momo’s thoughts going a mile a minute as she kept stealing glances at the closed door that separated you and them.

“Why do you hate her so much?”

All eyes are on Jihyo as she stares at the dancer, a tired expression on her face. “I mean, I get that you weren’t happy about her joining outside of Sixteen, but you know just as much as I do that she had to deal with things differently from us.” Momo struggles to come up with an answer.

It was true that she had been upset by the decision. She worked hard and suffered through a reality show, fighting to be where she was now. But couldn’t the same be said for you?

Jihyo was right, you were alone throughout your training process while they had each other. They depended on each other during the survival show but who did you lean on when things were getting too much?

“I don’t hate her.” Is all she ends up saying. And judging by the look on her face, it looked like that was the only answer she was willing to give.

..

The practice room was always a paradox for the Japanese woman.

She could always relax and let the music take her away from all the mess that went on with her life, but the same room always reminded her of all the suffering she’s been through just to attain her dream of being an idol.

The never ending practices, the starvation, the crying - it all seemed to happen a lot in this room.

Even when she found solace in it, it still held the storms that she had gone through and the ones she was currently going through.

“Oh-”

The sound made her pause and Momo quickly spun around to see you standing meekly by the door, a timid look on your face as you looked anywhere but her. “I… didn’t think anyone was here already.” You say awkwardly, hand still on the knob.

“I’ll just-”

As you moved to exit the room, Momo wasn’t sure what tugged at her chest, but she was stepping forward without realizing. “It’s okay. You can stay.”

That made you blink and your eyes snap to her face to see if she was kidding. But this was Momo. She didn’t joke, not with you at least. So when you see that she actually means for you to stay, you slowly step away from the door and head over to one of your usual spots in the room.

All the while, Momo’s eyes follow your every move, contemplating on what she could possibly say.

Even when she’s been an utter bitch towards you, Momo realized that you neve retaliated or treated her with any ill will. It was always the other members that did that for you without you knowing and she knows that she deserves it for how she treats you.

You’ve only been understanding of her situation, greeting her with a smile even when she shrugs you off, offering her things you know she likes, but she would always turn you down just because it was you.

God, she felt horrible.

Why did you have to be so nice to her?

“Y/n.”

The call of your name had you looking up during your stretch and you fidget a little when Momo waves you over.

Were you asleep right now?

Momo was calling for you?

That didn’t seem right.

Nevertheless, you stood and approached the older woman and she internally sighs when she sees the shy look across your face. You were cute, she had to admit.

The thought made her pause.

No, no, no. That was not what she needed right now.

But as you stood awkwardly in front of her, the older woman could see the way your eyes looked up at her, kind and shy, she had to bite her tongue before exhaling loudly and then awkwardly putting a hand on your shoulder.

She frowns when you flinch a little at the contact, but the look you give her is reassuring that it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You were honestly surprised by the softness in her tone, lacking its usual edge whenever she was talking to you, but the look in her eyes manages to make your breath hitch. 

“... I wanted to apologize.”

You keep quiet as she tries to find the right words to say. “I haven’t been fair to you, but I just wanted to let you know that I don’t… I don’t hate you.” She mumbles softly, her hand moving from your shoulder, down to your forearm, until she’s eventually taking your hand in her own, albeit hesitantly, almost as though she were afraid you would pull away.

“I know that I have a lot to make up for, but I hope you know that I’m really sorry.” She sucks in a deep breath. “I was confused and frustrated, and Jihyo was right, I shouldn’t have been taking it all out on you because you didn’t ask for any of this. I was just a bit bitter.”

You raise a brow, the corners of your mouth twitching a little. “A bit?” You can’t help the teasing lilt in your tone and Momo huffs. “Shut up, I’m trying to apologize.” And you do so with a smile on your face this time, and Momo can’t help but find that she likes your smile better.

“You somehow make my skin crawl and I get this weird feeling whenever I see you. But at the same time, I don’t like it when you’re upset or sick.” She remembers Jeongyeon getting mad at her again and she knows she has to apologize to her, too. “I hate not being able to talk to you because there’s so much going on with me that I can’t sort out.”

Your eyes widen a little and you know there’s heat crawling up your cheeks at that point because… god, this sounded like some sort of confession in some way. But you keep your mouth shut because you barely knew Momo enough to assume whether you were right or not.

Especially not when she acted like she didn’t like you.

“Unnie.” You began quietly and she’s squeezing your hand like a lifeline. “Is there… a chance that you were… jealous of the others being able to talk to me when you couldn’t?” You bite your lip when her brows furrow, but she nods either way. “And when Sana unnie or Nayeon unnie are hogging me to themselves?” She huffs at that and rolls her eyes. “It’s annoying, really.” You snort a little in amusement before you finally try one last thing.

“Can I hug you?”

Momo’s brain seemed to short circuit at your request, but when she doesn’t say anything, you’re afraid you may have overstepped.

Just as you were about to pull away from her, she tightens her hold on your hand before tugging you closer, making you tumble into her arms before she’s holding your head close to her chest.

Her warmth wraps around you like a blanket and you could hear the way her heart pounded against her chest even when her fingers ran through your hair.

“If this is how hugging you feels like… you can hug me as much as you want.”

Honestly, that and the way her heart sped up a little more only made the stupid grin on your face widen.

She wasn’t too sure what she was feeling right now. But maybe after a bit more of time, she could finally come to terms with herself and tell you how she really felt.

[starrihan]

https://www.tumblr.com/starrihan/778415657483190272/scenario-a-nerdy-girl-who-is-secretly-obsessed?source=share Give me part two or I'll kidnap you? 🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺

Ah listen to me. Maybe part two should have aftercare too🌝! Taesan will hug you and say "no need to cry, I won't leave you, pretty,"

Forgive me because I'm crazy 😔🙏

You’re forgiven because I’m also crazy? (but kidnap me if you must i will not object)

Idk something about mean dom! Taesan making you cry and then being so nice and caring afterwards is delicious 😋

Also are you the same anon that requested the original post??

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

༄ ༄ ༄

You're shaking in the bathroom, still shocked at the events that just occurred. You frantically clean up your mess, the embarrassment washing over you again as you recall the way you came all over his fingers. Looking in the mirror you gasp at your current state. Hair frizzy and messed up, mascara running down your cheeks and eyeliner smudged in the corners.

You quickly dry your still-wet face and use the napkins to get rid of any smudging, trying to salvage what's left of your makeup by patting the surrounding foundation onto the stained areas. You try to calm your nerves but it fails as you find yourself slightly shaking as you walk back into the large lecture hall. You look around, finding Taesan already staring at the door, the smirk on his face as he keeps eye contact with you a little overwhelming.

༄ ༄ ༄

Your nervousness never settles as the clock ticks seem louder than usual, serving as a constant reminder at how agonizingly slow time seemed to be going by. You were nervous for what Taesan wanted from you after class, but you were even more nervous at the fact that you've been growing increasingly needier as time went on, panties ruined.

The sound of students closing their laptops and zipping up their bags snapped you out of your thoughts. You quickly packed up your things, not that there was any point in bringing them out anyways since you didn't even pay attention. Hopefully today's material wouldn't be on your next exam.

You take your time, waiting for everyone to leave the hall before making your way down the ramp, scanning the hall for Taesan. You furrow your brows as you see no sign of anyone outside the classroom, your need being replaced by irritation.

"Did you think I left? That wouldn't be very nice of me, would it?"

His voice behind you made you jump, noticing that his hands look wet and blushing as you realized that he just came from the bathroom, your neediness clouding your judgement. You turn around, shaking your head as you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

"You're awfully quiet now that you're not moaning my name."

You burn up even more, not knowing how to act around the one person that's made you cum more times than you know, more times than he knows. But his cockiness just brought something out of you that you couldn't figure out. You roll your eyes.

"Oh, feisty are we?"

"Shut up..."

He chuckles, getting close to your face, lips just barely ghosting over your own.

"And if I don't? Then what? Will you take away the honor of letting me hear your sweet voice moan my name again?"

You look away, not being able to stare at his captivating eyes any longer.

"C'mon sweetheart, I will get you to moan my name again."

He grabs your wrist, smooth but gentle as he walks you to what you assume is his apartment building. Once inside his room, you can't help but stare at all of his posters. Black walls adorned with posters of My Chemical Romance, Mötley Crüe and other bands that you didn't recognize.

A yelp leaves your body as he suddenly appears behind you, hands wrapping around your figure, sliding the backpack off of your shoulders.

"Relax baby, why are you so nervous?'

The way he makes you feel, how your burns up at just the slightest touch by him. None of this felt real.

"This is my first time ever doing something like this... with someone I've just met."

"For someone who you just met you sure acted like you knew me, at least well enough to moan my name in the bathrooms for anyone to hear."

"Will you let that go?"

You scoffed, getting tired of the constant waves of embarrassment crashing over you.

"I can't. Usually the girls that want me say it to my face. You're... interesting. Maybe you're a stalker for all I know."

You can't deny how he must've felt, knowing you'd probably feel weirded out if you heard a stranger moaning your name in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for anyone, esepcially you, to hear me being—"

"—a pervert?"

Like a mallet to a gong, you feel your heart pang in your chest. The idea of being called a pervert by your crush was the ultimate form of humiliation, the tears flowing from your eyes instantly.

"I— I'm s-so... sorry, I— I can't believe I—"

But he didn't seem angry or weirded out. Instead, he walked over to you, placing a hand on your waist before leaning in to close the gap between you. You breath hitches in your throat, unable to process his actions, eyes fluttering shut.

"Don't be embarrassed baby, I liked it."

He says after pulling away, diving back in to kiss along your jaw and neck. His actions now are much gentler than they were before, hands slowly moving down to cup your ass under your skirt. You gasp, moving your head to the side to allow him more room to continue his kisses on your neck, hands brushing through his hair as you pull him in closer, your front pressing against his hardening length.

"Fuck Y/N,"

He growls into your neck. He moves one hand to your clothed clit, smirking into your neck when he feels how soaked you are through your panties, your almost silent moans like candy to his ears.

"Oh you must really like me,"

The tears are still steadily flowing down your cheeks, not able to conceal your shame. But the more humiliated you feel, the more turned-on you find yourself getting, and he notices it too with the way you grind your hips into his fingers.

He leads you to the bed, lips never leaving your neck as you feel the back of your legs hit the bed. He instructs you to lay down, laughing as you try to wipe away the tears. He takes his pants off before kneeling on the ground, pulling you down towards his mouth. His fingers ghost over your pussy, his breath hot against your core.

"What a crybaby. But you like it when I shame you, don't you? You like when I call you a little pervert, huh?"

He moves your panties to the side, pressing his fingers against your now-exposed slit and rubbing along your folds. You violently shake your head 'no.'

"Oh yeah? Then why are you so restless every time I say something to embarrass you? You like crying for me? You like it when I humiliate you."

You continue to shake your head, but you know he's right and he knows he's right, watching as you squirm at the contact.

"Should I give my little crybaby what she wants? Or should I punish her for being a little creep who cums to the thought of me, a stranger, when she's alone?"

Again, shaking your head no, you throw your head back when his lips touch your clit in a gentle kiss, praising the small contact for keeping you sane. He moves your panties to the side, teasing your clit with his tongue as his fingers swirl over your sopping hole.

"T-Taesan..."

You moan and it's like a band snaps within him, pushing two fingers past your walls and sucking on your clit like its a ring pop (😉). Arching your back off of the bed, you cry out his name even louder, tears flowing from raging pleasure instead of shame. Your orgasm is quickly approaching, but he notices, pulling out before you can release.

The salty taste from your tears permeates your mouth, choking back sobs as he rips your orgasm away from you. But he stands up, quickly discarding his boxers and your panties before pulling you close by your thighs, lining up his dick with your entrance. He teases you more leaving you to grip the sheets, white-knuckling them as he slowly pushes himself in you. The sigh of relief you let out brings a smile to both of your faces, both entirely too worked up.

He feels your walls pulsing around him, relishing in the feeling before thrusting slowly at first, waiting for you to adjust before picking up the pace.

“Fuck… Taesan…”

“Shit princess, you sound like an angel with my name rolling off your tongue,”

He grunts between thrusts causing you to whimper and whine for him. He takes the chance to lean down, scooping you up to press another kiss to your lips. You moan into his mouth, allowing him to explore with his tongue. You take note of how strong he actually, something that’s not very noticeable about him upon first glance. The constant flutter of your walls around him let him know that you’re close, slowing down his thrusts.

“Tell me, do you think you deserve to cum after being a freak in the bathroom? After shamelessly grinding into my hands when I was degrading you? Don’t you think you should at least apologize?”

You try your best to form words for an apology, but the only thing on your mind is him, the words lost on your tongue as his slow yet deep thrusts cloud your mind.

“Seems that you’ve gone stupid from my questions,”

He tsks but speeds up again, watching as you cry harder for him. With a couple more thrusts, you’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know. Jolts running up and down your body as you continue to cum for another 20 seconds, hitting even harder since he denied you of it earlier. He quickly pulls out of you, dropping your thighs and stroking himself a few more times, finishing on your skirt.

“I bet you won’t even wash it when you get home. You’ll probably use it to get off again, am I right? My little perverted girl.”

You felt like you were going to pass out from heat exhaustion, the heat of your embarrassment and shame continuing to run through you at his constant degrading. You find it in yourself to sit up, but harder being able to hold it together, the overwhelming feelings of pleasure, guilt and shame washing over you and culminating in a waterfall of tears pouring from your eyes.

“I— I’m really sorry Taesan… for being a creep and moaning for you in the school bathrooms. I feel so ashamed and I understand if you think I’m weird and gross. I can leave, I—“

He leans over you, shushing you by placing his finger over your mouth.

“Shh, no need to cry pretty, I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

He looks at you, wiping the never-ending tears off your face.

“It’s really okay, I’m kinda perverted myself for liking it and walking in on you if you think about it.”

He laughs, making you feel a little better as you start to smile with him. He gives you a kiss on the forehead, grabbing tissues to help clean you up.

“And I’m sorry about the skirt, I can wash it if you’d like.”

You wince at his touch, but let him clean you as you sit up. Once the both of you are fully cleaned off, he stands you up, giving you a hug, much to your confusion.

“I don’t really know you Y/N, but this was the best sex I’ve had with a stranger.”

You relax into his touch, hugging him back.

“Thank you? I guess I can say the same, I’ve never had sex with a stranger before.”

He laughs at your honesty, pulling away and smiling down at you.

“We should hang out again, like this or just as friends. I mean, perverts should hang out with other perverts, right?”

And you slap his chest, still embarrassed about the whole situation.

“I’m not sleeping with you again.”

You tease, but you both know this isn’t the last you’re going to be seeing of each other.

༄ ༄ ༄

Zoo wee mama

I did not expect to add this much crying and degradation but, oops? (take a shot every time the words 'embarrassed,' 'shame,' or its variants are used) this was longer than the original post but I will be thinking about this for the rest of the night, thank you

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

[aerynwrites]

Late Nights

Gale Dekarios x GN!Reader

A/N: thank you @chaoticlicense for this request, it was so fun to write for this lovely Bookworm of a man and I can’t wait to do more for him soon! Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: none

You wake to the faint light of the moon streaming through the window and the familiar feeling of cool sheets beside you, signifying the absence of your lover. 

A sigh leaves your lips as you stretch, your hand reaching out to brush the empty spot next to  you, joints popping as sleep slowly creeps away. 

He’s probably in the library again, you think, used to Gale’s late night musings. 

It truly is a chore trying to keep that man in bed sometimes, his mind always wandering and keeping him up at all odd hours of the night. 

Missing the warmth of your other half, you begrudgingly slide out from the sheets, feet hitting the cold stone floor as you sit up. 

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you stand, reaching out to tug a blanket from the end of the bed to wrap around your shoulders. The tower stays chilly, and with autumn creeping in day by day, the cool air is becoming a constant.

With the soft fabric providing you a little warmth, you make your way from the bedroom and down the stairs towards the library on the bottom floor. 

Your feet pad quietly on the worn stone, the ends of the blanket whispering behind you until you finally reach your destination. 

The door is cracked slightly, and you slip into the room near silently, eyes adjusting to the light. It’s dimly lit, candles and sconces being the only source of light down here..

“Sunlight will ruin even the most well-made tomes, best to keep them squandered away from her harsh rays.”  

You smile at the memory of Gale's explanation when you had asked why such a beautiful room was in the basement of the tower. 

Hundreds and hundreds of books fill the room, stacked neatly on various stone and wooden bookcases. So much knowledge in one room, and you’ve barely managed to graze the surface in your time living here. 

You navigate the maze of shelves seamlessly, having some idea of where Gale just might be hiding away, smiling softly when you’re proven correct in your assumption. 

There’s a small sitting area in the back corner of the library. Two chairs in front of a small table and various rugs and pillows strewn about the floor. 

Gale sits in one of the worn leather chairs, a book held open in one hand as the other toys with the corner of the pages. You slow to a stop several feet behind him, taking a moment to take in the man who has captured your heart. 

He flips the page after a second or two, a small hum of approval leaving him as he reaches over for a quill and ink sitting on the table, scribbling something in the margins of the book’s pages. 

You can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips as you watch him in his element. Yet, despite enjoying wanting him from afar, sleep still tugs at your mind, and you take the last few steps until you are standing behind him. 

Your hands fall to his shoulders, making him jump ever so slightly, head turning just as you lean down and place a kiss on his temple. 

“What are you doing up, my love?” you ask, voice still thick with sleep. “It’s much too early to start work.” 

Gale lets out another hum, leaning into you as your hands slide down his chest and you rest your chin on his shoulder. 

“Knowledge knows no such thing as the constraints of time,” he says, and you can feel the way he smiles. “My mind often wanders even when it is most inconvenient. I feared if I stayed with you in the comfort of our bed my mind's machinations would sooner wake you up with my tossing and turning than let sleep claim me once more.” 

Humming, you press another kiss to his cheek before directing your attention to the book he was reading, now laying open in his lap as he reaches up to take your hands in his own, placing delicate kisses to your knuckles. 

“Well…has your studying quieted your mind at all or…” Your words  trail off as you move to step around to the front of the chair, taking the book from his lap and setting it on the table before taking its place in his lap. “Do I need to assist in luring you back to bed?” 

With the blanket still draped around you, you let your hands reach out to rest on his shoulders again before sliding up behind his neck, fingers toying with his soft hair. 

Now that you can see his face, you see Gale smiling warmly up at you from your position perched on his lap. His eyes reflect the warm orange light of the candles and you’re not sure if it’s that or a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as his hands settle on your hips. 

“With you? Here in my lap?” he chuckles, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I can assure you my mind is far from quiet. However…” His thumbs run soothingly over your hips. “I believe my late night musings have subsided for now, and I will admit I crave nothing more than to end the night in your arms. In whatever way you’ll have me.” 

You can’t stop the giggle that slips past your lips as he raises his eyebrows suggestively, but you shake your head. 

“As much as you know I love that, I’m still very tired,” you admit sheepishly. “I only woke up because I realized you weren’t next to me.” 

Gale lets out a little ‘ tsk’ sound despite the smile still on his face. “Well, that just won’t do. Come, let me take my lover to bed - my studying can be saved until the morning,” he says, leaning in to place a quick kiss to your lips. “I’d much rather have you in my hands than a dusty old tome. You’re much warmer, and much prettier to look at.” 

You roll your eyes as you move to stand, reaching out to take his hand as he does the same. You don’t reply to his words, instead moving to help him blow out the candles before taking his hand again and leading him up the stairs to your bedroom. 

The journey is quick, and before you know it, Gale is taking the blanket from your shoulders and helping you into bed, slipping into the space behind you after toeing off his shoes. 

You immediately sigh as his warmth surrounds you, his arm slipping around your waist as familiar lips brush your shoulder. 

“Every time I return from a late night journey to the library, I always wonder what fool would leave the comfort of their lover's arms simply because their mind’s thoughts would not cease.” 

You turn in his arms then, capturing his lips in a kiss before pulling away to nuzzle into his chest. “You’re not a fool, Gale, far from it. I just…worry about you sometimes, and I…even though I know you always return, I always miss you when you’re not by my side.” Your words are a mere murmur now, sleep pulling incessantly at your eyelids, threatening to pull you under any moment. 

With a press of lips against the crown of your head, Gale pulls you closer. “Well, worry not, for I intend to spend the rest of this night here with you until the dawn demands our attention.” 

You smile. “I love you, Gale.”

The wizard returns the gesture, tightening his arms around your waist. 

“And I, you, my love.” 

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

A New Emissary

Formerly : They Mates - with Y/N Pt 4

Summary - Hybern’s a problem (but when is he not), and this whole Cauldron situation… Out. Of. Hand. Based on Ch 19 of ACOMAF

Notes/Other Warnings - ‘Vulgar gestures’, language, my grammar. As always lines/plot points directly or heavily inspired by the series itself. 1.4k words. 2nd pov again for a more intimate look into Y/N and Az’s relationship.

Part of The Shadowsinger and the Emissary Universe.

You stood with Azriel near the window in the sitting room of the townhouse. It was snowing lightly outside, dusting the outside world. Cassian lounged near the fire, next to Mor. He felt tense, like an animal waiting to jump out of its cage after spending too much time cooped up. Amren was not present—where she was, you did not know. You all were waiting for your High Lord and Feyre to return from their trip to the Bone Carver for information. 

As you watched the snow build up outside your mind wandered back to earlier that morning. Nearly five-hundred years Azriel had been your mate, and still every morning was utter bliss. You could still feel his teeth scraping lightly across the shell of your ear and his lips trailing—

“Amren’s right,” Rhysand said.

You snapped out of your thoughts to see him standing in the threshold. Feyre stood next to him.

“You are like dogs, waiting for me to return home. I ought to buy treats for the lot of you,” Rhys continued.

Cassian flipped him off, the tension in his system still evident. You stepped forward to smack Cassian’s shoulder. The general gave you a withering look. The High Lord of Night narrowed his eyes at the pair of you. You stepped back as Feyre, who looked chilled headed for the armchair near the hearth. You returned to your spot next to your mate who stood in contemplation, a constant for him.

“How’d it go,” Mor asked to quickly glance between Feyre and Rhys, who had finally stepped into the room. 

“The Bone Carver,” Rhys said with a sigh, “has too much time on his hands considering how often he likes to pry into others people’s business.”

You reached for Azriel’s hand, unsure of what to do in the moment. Your mate didn’t protest, his shadows swirling around your wrist for a few moments. You could see Feyre’s eyes dart to the sight. The mortal said nothing.

Cassian broke through the silence, his hands falling to brace his knees. “But…?”

“But, the busybody can be useful, when he chooses,” Rhys replied with another sigh. “He informed us that the Cauldron was originally hidden at the bottom of the frozen lake in Lapplund, but vanished a while ago. But three of the feet on which the Cauldron used to stand were cleaved from it, in an attempt for power. Each foot was hidden in a different temple.”

You didn’t exactly need Rhys to spell out the rest for you. People were after the Cauldron, after its power again. “Shit,” you murmured. Cassian, to your surprise said nothing, only sat up a bit straighter.

“Cesere, Sangravah, and Itica,” the high lord listed out. “The King of Hybern seeks to return the Cauldron to its full glory.”

It was a suspicion most everyone in the room had. You could sense the grimness of it all, the way the room shifted even though most were expecting it. You glanced to Mor who looked back at you, giving a well this isn’t good look. 

“The mortal queens have one part of the Book, Tarquin the other,” Rhys finished.

You sucked in a breath before Azriel stepped forward, his shadows lightening from around his form. “I will contact my sources in the Summer Court about the other half of the Book of Breathings on where it is hidden. I can aldo fly to the human world. See if I can locate their half before we ask them for it.”

The High Lord of Night shook his head. “I don’t trust this information, even with your sources, Azriel. Not anyone outside this room, except for Amren.”

“They can be trusted, Rhysand,” you defend as Azriel’s shadows grew thicker for a moment before lightening up. Az let go of your hand, fists curling slightly, staring at his high lord. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“I, we, are not taking risks where the Cauldron or the Book is concerned,” Rhys responded calmly. Rhys returned his spymaster’s stare. 

You reached for your mate’s hand, and his fingers slowly uncurled, eyes drifting away from Rhysand’s face and back to your own. You gently intertwined your fingers with his.

“So what do you have planned,” Mor asked. 

“Well,” Rhys responded as he picked at absolutely nothing on his leathers. A habit you had noticed he got when growing up. “The King of Hybern sacked one of our temples for a piece of the Cauldron, which, as far as I am concerned, is an act of war.”

“Of course he wants war,” You interjected more strongly than you had anticipated. “For the Mother’s sake we were an ally to the humans during…the War. He would never dare sway you at risk of revealing his plans.”

Cassian nodded in agreement before adding, “Amarantha’s cronies likely reported to him Under the Mountain.”

“Hybern and his forces successfully infiltrated our lands, without detection. I have every intention of returning the favor.” Your high lord straightened himself up slightly.

“How?” Mor asked, before you could. 

“We go to Hybern to bring the Cauldron back or go to nullify it.” 

You thought you might just laugh at that. “Hybern would already have countless wards to protect it.” 

You could feel Az’s thumb over the back of your hand, gently rubbing as if to try and ease some of the tension from your body. “Y/N’s right. We would need to find a way to get through them, undetected,” your mate added.

“Then we start, now while we hunt down the Book. We do it swiftly, so by the time we have both halves we can get through without word spreading quickly,” Rhys said like it was the simplest solution possible—the simplest task possible.

“And how qre you planning to retrieve the Book?” Cassian added.

“These objects are spelled to each high lord and can only be found using their power.”

You looked to Feyre, almost apologetically. Thrown into this life and world and she was being asked to find pieces of the Book of Breathings itself using powers she received because she died. A shuddering feeling went through you. As if in defense of the girl you looked at Rhys. “You don’t know that it will work.”

Rhys smiled slightly. “True—but there is a way to test it.”

“Mother’s tits! Here we go again,” Cassian grumbled from his place besides Mor. 

Your eyes danced over to your mate whose eyes had narrowed slightly, your fingers still intimately intertwined.

“With your abilities, Feyre ,” Rhys began, ignoring his Inner Circles words, “you might just might be able to find the half of the Book in the Summer Court. To be certain, to make sure when it counts, when we need it, when we need you, we’re going on another trip… see if you can find an object that I’ve been missing for quite some time.”

You let out another heavy sigh knowing exactly where this was going, Az still rubbing his thumb over your hand.

“Shit,” Mor groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“Where,” Feyre asked tremulously.

“The Weaver,” Azriel responded. His thumb stoped rubbing your hand. 

“Who is the Weaver,” the new fae asked.

“An ancient and wicked creature,” Azriel responded with a sharp exhale, that tickled the back of your ear. “Who should remain unbothered,” thr spymaster shot in Rhysand’s direction.

Rhys pushed on. “I want to see of Feyre can identify the object amongst the Weaver’s trove.”

“Oh! By the Cauldron!!” Mor exclaimed. You couldn’t disagree with her.

“The Weaver,” Feyre began to press, “the Bone Carver. Can you just call someone by a name?”

You let out a soft chuckle with a slight angling of your head. She had a point. Something in the sound your momenary joy eased the shadowsinger. 

“What about adding another name to that list?” Rhysand asked Feyre who had finally seemed to warm up.

A few grumbles sounded about the room, including your own.

“Emissary,” Rhys said ignoring the room. “For the human realm,” Rhys clarified, looking to you as if ensuring you weren’t about to be fired from your position.

Good, Azriel thought to himself. You needn’t make any more travels than you were doing at present as Rhysand’s emissary in every other aspect. One less place for you to be caught in something dangerous. One less thing to pull you from his arms in the morning, and leave half of the bed empty at night. Truth was, even after nearly five-hundred years together, all he wanted to do was lay in bed with you and never leave the comfort of your embrace. Too bad the world had other plans.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria, @5onedirection5, @emryb, @azrielrot

[echantedtoon]

A Moment

Some slice of life-ish family stuff for my DK Kagaya au.

The creaking of wood and groaning sounding like large houses settling were a constant source of noise you soon found out after being trapped in here for so long. You'd lost count of how many times you'd open the door just to see a random mash of homes or a giant spiraling staircase just came floating by. Sometimes holding those devilish monsters upon it. 

Today was no different as cold orbs stared down at the long winding shifting of wood and materials that made up the Infinity Castle. A makeshift home for the monsters to hide from the sun and slayers that wish to eradicate them. A disgusting sight if anyone were to ask you. You hated all demons. 

"Mother! Mother!" Your head turned feeling two little hands tug on the hem of your kimono and found two teary eyes staring up at you from a head of black hair. The small boy pointing an accusing hand back into the room. "Kuina hit me again!"

"You're just a big baby!"

Well..you hated most demons minus five. With a sigh you turned from the open doorway and found the problem standing right behind you. Orange kanzashi in her hair and a wooden samurai sword firmly clutched in her left fist.

Your second youngest daughter scowled pointing a hand at her brother. "Real samurai hit people a lot harder than I did! If you aren't ready to fight like a man don't ask me to play swords!"

"Samurai didn't hit people with swords like clubs, they sliced them actually with their sharpened blades."

At once both brother and sister snapped their heads with a scowl. "Shut up, Hinaki!!" They both yelled at a girl completely identical to Kuina minus the red kanzashi in her hair.

In turn your eldest scowled. "Well if you're going to say something be accurate about it!"

"No one asked you!"

Typical day in your life of taking care of your children. The five of them were quite a handful and very hard to get along with for most but luckily you'd gotten a good hand on handling them especially when they got like this. Kiriya didn't let up his grip on your side as you turned with a sigh and a deja vu feeling of 'here we go again.' With footsteps approaching her, Kuina didn't look so confident now that her mother had come to put an end to her.

"Give me that thing." You didn't even wait for her to respond before you grabbed the wooden toy and pulled it from her hands, looking over it with a firm frown. "From now on no one gets to play samurai if all you're going to do is hit each other with them."

"But, Mom-"

"Don't you 'but Mom's me." Her mouth closed upon your frown turning to her, toy now held higher than she could reach. Other hand on your hip. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop fighting with your brother?"

In desperation her had pointed to the scowling boy in question. "Kiriya started it!"

"Well I'm stopping it! I'm tired of you both getting into fights. You're both grounded!"

"What?!" Kiriya gave a harder tug on your dress. "But, Mother! She hit me first!"

"Because you said girls can't beat boys in a fight!"

"They still can't because you didn't win against me!"

"Because you ran away you tattle tail!!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!!" The sheer volume of your voice made the three children in your vancinity jump and look at you as your hands pointed to opposite sides of the room. "You're both grounded! Go sit in the corner! You're in a time out until I say otherwise!"

"Mom-"

"NOW, Kuina. You're going to sit there and think about what you did wrong." 

Her mouth opened up like she wanted to argue with you, but you supposed by the look you gave her she knew it was a loosing battle. With an exchanged scowl, tiny footsteps thudded out with every stomp the tiny girl made on her way to the corner her mother had pointed out. Knowing by now that if she didn't comply, you'd just pick her up and put her in the corner yourself and probably had given her a longer punishment. Your son quietly stewed shuffling out from behind you and headed for the opposite side of the room.

Inhale in. Exhale out. A hand rubbed at sore temples feeling a headache already forming. Morning(or you assumed it was morning as there's no clocks here) and already they were at it yet again. 

"You know if you want to punish them, historically-"

"Hinaki, unless you want to be grounded too I suggest you stop right there."

The second girl frowned upon you but buried her head back into the thick book in her lap to avoid your gaze as you looked around at the culprits of today's escapades. Two of them now sharing similar pouts and crossed arms where they say, shooting dirty looks at one another and a third not so discreetly peering up to watch the fireworks.

With a sigh you took a moment to relax, before glancing at the toy still in your hands, and then going along the room in search of the other ones just like it. Stepping over toys, books, and pillows strewn across the nursery's floor. A rabbit stuffy here that squeaked as you nudged it aside with your foot. It hit a tamari ball that bounced away from the impact but you paid it no mind continuing to pick up the stupid wooden swords until you were sure you had successfully confiscated all of them.

Annoyed to find at least six or seven of them in your arms, you turned back to the doorway fully intending on just throwing them over the edge of the unknown. Ever since their father brought these dumb things home, they've been doing nothing but hitting each other with them like sticks. 

"I told your father not to give you these."

"Not give our children what, Dear?"

In that instant your body frozen where you stood, as if winter had it's mightiest most coldest grip on your soul. Just the sounds of that voice was enough to send shivers down your spine and have your body rooted to the spot. Time slowly ticking by the seconds as you continued to stare ahead at the far wall. However there was a reaction to the voice. A collective thundering of footsteps big enough to be a small stampede of their own. Not hearing the chorus of voices cheering on in happiness at the creature behind you.

Eventually your body regained feeling in your flesh and bones. Your mind unfuzzed the muffled sounds blurring together. For what what felt like eternity of you just freezing up was in reality around fifteen to twenty seconds. But eventually a frown set heavy on your lips and you turned to face the monster your children were excitedly cheering for and calling father.

"I'm surprised you finally decided to show up, Kagaya. Was your nightly routine obscured by the slayers again?"

Poison purple eyes dared to look at you with adoration and love. If one such as he could even feel such a thing. "Hello, Darling. I had the night off and figured that I would come see my beautiful family."

"How considerate of you."

Kagaya Ubuyashiki. Demon King. Killer....And unfortunately your husband and father of your children. One of which was held up in his arms squealing happily as her father moved her up and down in his arms a few times before with a kiss to her forehead she was lowered back to stand with her other four siblings clambering for his attention.

"You seem upset, Dear," he commented on your deadpanned frown clasping his hands together with a chuckle. "Have the children been rambunctious for Mommy again?"

"If my 'rambunctious' you mean hitting each other with the toys I told you not to get them, then yes. They've been causing quite the headache."

Your headache only got worse as he calmly waved a hand dismissing their bad behavior. "They're just children. I used to roughhouse with my brothers when I was younger as well-"

"There's a difference between roughhousing and just fighting with each other." Speaking of which- Your f/c eyes glanced back at Kiriya and Kuina. "Speaking of fighting, what are you two doing out of your corners?" In an instant the bright smiles on their face vanished as the reality of the present presented itself. "You both are still grounded for fighting remember?"

"Fighting? My children were fighting?"

"Yes." Your blunt tone had him blinking. "You spoil them too much and someone has to be the responsible one around here. And I TOLD you getting them these-" You held up the pile of wooden swords in your arms. "-was a bad idea. But as usual you'd rather spoil them than be practical about it."

"Oh.." He hummed eyeing the toys in your arms. "Yes. I suppose in retrospect that may have been a bad idea in the long term." 'May have'? Either way he smiled at you all the same. "Well I suppose learning to fight would be beneficial for the future when I start teaching them to be more responsible."

More responsible. His own way of saying that he was going to teach them to hunt humans in the future. A future that you were doing all you could to prevent. For now Kagaya had been reasonable, agreeing to honor your request for your children to feast on the flesh of animals prepared for them by one of his trusted Kizuki but who knows how long that'll last when they got older. 

"Responsible?" The very notion made you laugh sarcastically at his blinking face. "You teach them responsibility? That's laughable."

"Why is that laughable? You all have been listening to your tutors and practicing your lessons haven't you?" He smiled that sweet happy grin he always wore when speaking of his children. And by 'tutors' he meant more of his Kizuki he assigned to teach them as he wasn't there.

A resounding yes was his reply but you only rose a brow further. "You do not have to fight them to take a bath every two days or to make their beds or tell them to clean their room or stop sibling fights...Do you even know what it's like to do that with one child let alone five at once? Every day?" 

"My dear, I have dealt with a many difficulties over the years." He assured your doubtful form pressing a hand to his chest. "I lived many years bed ridden sick. I have survived countless attempts on my life. I have personally broken up many fights between my demons with nothing but my own two hands. Rest assured that while I may not know what motherhood completely is like, I can handle anything my own children can throw at me.'

You continued to stare at him in doubt. He never spent time raising five children at once since they were all about a year old and he figured you'd be fine with a select few demon nannies picked out since they weren't babies anymore and he was on the quest to find a flower that probably didn't exist. It was then an idea crossed your mind and your eyes widened.

"....Huh. So you can handle them all by yourself?"

"Of course I could. I am their father after all."

"Uh huh...So you wouldn't mind letting Mother have a night off to relax and watch them for me would you?"

A hurt look crossed his mind. "I thought perhaps we could all spend it together. I do much want to spend time with my beautiful wife as much as my precious children."

"And I'd like a break to relax...but I'll make a deal with you." He blinked as you shifted the toys to one hand and poked his chest. "If you are so confident you can handle the children then I'll tell you what. If you can successfully watch the children by yourself and get through the routine, then the two of us can spend the entire day tomorrow doing whatever you want."

That certainly perked his interest. "Oh? Hmhmhm." He chuckled at the notion, a hand laced with purpled sharp nails lightly grasping yours. "My dear, you wound me by your belief that I couldn't handle them for a simple day."

"Oh it's not just that. They have a routine you know." You rose an amused eyebrow back. "You have to make sure they eat three meals a day and then there's cleaning up the nursery today- Oh. And let's not forget that it's bath day and they absolutely loath doing their homework. Not to mention the temper tantrums and fights-"

"Done. I assure you that I may have been a little rusty but I can perfectly handle it all."

"Are you very certain about that?"

"Absolutely without a doubt."

You smirked. "Then starting now I shall leave them in your very capable hands. In the meantime I'm going to go find somewhere to relax maybe even read a fat book while I'm at it." And you'd be desposing these dumb things while you were at it.

"Deal. Although I think you think of my competence quite lower than it actually is." He spoke turning his head to watch you weave through your children and past him towards the open doorway. 

"If you think that's the case, then you can start by fighting with them to clean up their room."

"Easier done than said."

He tilted his head as you stopped in the doorway to stare at him with a giant amused smirk. "Well we'll see about that." You then glanced at the watchful eyes of your children. "Whoever holds him the longest doesn't have to chores next week."

You turned catching the instant their heads perked up and a white blur went flying towards the mighty king caught off guard.  You felt a satisfied feeling in your chest hearing the solid thud followed up with the sounds of footsteps running around no doubt going to make their father's day as hard as yours is. Now to get rid of these stupid things.

"I wonder where Rengoku is?"

[matcha3mochi]

rin itoshi x fem! reader // enemies to lovers pt. 2

prev || next

༄˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

It had been a week since the ankle incident with Rin, and although you thought things would go back to normal, something had undeniably shifted. You and Rin still bickered constantly, throwing sharp retorts at each other like always, but now there was a tension beneath the surface. A tension that was different—so subtle, you might have missed it if you weren’t paying attention.

As the team’s manager, you were always occupied, keeping everything in order. From collecting equipment to organizing drills, your days were packed, leaving little room to reflect on the peculiar shift between you and Rin. But as the days passed, it became impossible to ignore the small, deliberate gestures Rin started making.

It began innocently enough.

A couple of days after he helped you with your ankle, you were sitting on the sidelines, catching your breath after running around for hours during practice. Your clipboard was full of notes, the sun was starting to set, and the team was still in the middle of their drills. You reached into your bag to grab a quick snack, but instead of the usual energy bar you packed, you found something else—your favorite snack, the one you hadn’t had time to buy recently.

You stared at it for a moment, confused. It wasn’t something anyone else would have known to give you. Your eyes swept the field, and there, in his usual spot, was Rin. He was stretching, not paying you any attention—or so it seemed. But his eyes flickered toward you once, almost too quickly to notice, before he turned back to his drills.

Your heart did a small flip. No way… It couldn’t have been him, could it?

You shoved the snack into your bag, shaking your head. It could’ve been a coincidence. Maybe someone else had left it by mistake. But even as you tried to dismiss it, you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that it wasn’t just an accident.

The next incident made things harder to ignore.

It had been a particularly hot day, and you were rushing back and forth between the field and the locker room, setting up equipment and tracking the players’ stats. By the time practice was winding down, you were exhausted and parched. You mumbled something under your breath about needing a drink but didn’t have the energy to go grab one.

As you sat down to catch your breath, there it was again—a cold sports drink placed right beside your clipboard. Not just any drink, but your favorite one.

You stared at it, dumbfounded. This time, there was no way it was a coincidence. You looked around, and your eyes found Rin. He was walking back from a drill, his usual aloof expression in place, but you caught him glancing in your direction. The moment your eyes met, he quickly looked away, acting like nothing had happened.

You picked up the drink, your heart racing. Rin wasn’t the type to go out of his way for anyone, let alone you. You were supposed to be his constant source of teasing and sarcastic remarks, not… whatever this was.

“Hey, where’d you get that?” Yuki, one of the players, asked as he jogged past, eyeing the drink in your hand.

“I… don’t know,” you mumbled, still staring at it. “It just… appeared.”

Yuki smirked. “Seems like someone’s got their eye on you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach twisted in knots. You couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that Rin might be the one leaving these things. But why? What did this mean?

The real tipping point came when your ankle flared up again.

You had been doing your best to manage it, but with how much running around you had to do for the team, it was hard not to push yourself. By the end of practice, you were limping slightly, hoping no one would notice.

Unfortunately, Rin did.

“You’re limping again,” he said, his voice low but unmistakably direct. He had appeared beside you so suddenly that you jumped, nearly dropping your clipboard.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, brushing him off. “It’s nothing.”

Rin didn’t listen. Before you could stop him, he crouched down in front of you, grabbing your ankle gently. “You didn’t wrap it properly,” he muttered, already unwrapping the bandage with deft hands.

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest as he carefully rewrapped your ankle, his fingers surprisingly gentle. You weren’t used to seeing this side of him—focused, calm, and… caring?

“You’re going to make it worse if you keep being careless,” he said, standing up once he was done. His usual coldness returned as he crossed his arms, looking down at you like you were an annoying inconvenience.

Your face was flushed, not from embarrassment, but from the way your heart refused to stop racing. “Uh… thanks, I guess.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Rin muttered, turning on his heel and walking away without another word.

But you couldn’t shake the image of Rin kneeling in front of you, rewrapping your ankle with more care than you’d ever expected from him. And from the way your teammates were staring at the scene, neither could they.

Over the next few days, Rin’s small acts of kindness continued, and the team started to notice.

He still teased you relentlessly, throwing snarky comments your way whenever he could, but there were these moments—these quiet gestures that spoke volumes. A drink left by your clipboard. A towel tossed your way after a hot day of practice. A bandage left on the bench for your ankle.

And it wasn’t just you who noticed. The team started whispering about it, shooting you curious looks whenever Rin did something out of character. He wasn’t known for being nice to anyone, least of all you. But now? His behavior was getting harder to ignore.

One afternoon, as practice was winding down, you overheard a conversation between Yuki and one of the defenders.

“Did you see that earlier?” Yuki whispered. “Rin actually handed her a towel. He never does that.”

“I know. He’s been acting so weird around her lately,” the defender replied. “Do you think… he likes her?”

You ducked your head, pretending not to hear them, but your face was burning. The possibility of Rin liking you seemed impossible. He was always teasing you, always making you feel like you were just some annoying presence. But now…

Then, one afternoon, Rin’s actions became even more direct.

It had been a long day, and you were about to leave when you saw Rin lingering by the bleachers, his hands shoved into his pockets. He had been staying behind more often lately, always finding some reason to hang around after practice ended.

As you gathered your things, he walked up to you, wordlessly holding out a small bag. Your eyes widened when you realized it was another one of your favorite snacks—the same ones that had been mysteriously appearing.

“Rin…” you started, unsure how to respond.

“Just take it,” he muttered, shoving the bag into your hands before you could protest. “You’re always forgetting to eat.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”

Rin averted his gaze, his usual scowl in place. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But as he walked away, your heart was pounding, and the warmth in your chest spread. You had spent so much time thinking Rin hated you, but now, with every small act of kindness, you were starting to see the truth.

Maybe Rin’s teasing wasn’t just about annoyance. Maybe it had always been something more. And maybe, just maybe, Rin Itoshi didn’t hate you at all.

The whispers from your teammates grew louder after that.

“Man, Rin’s been acting weird,” Yuki remarked, watching as Rin handed you another drink without a word. “He’s never this nice to anyone else.”

You flushed, trying to hide the smile creeping onto your face. Maybe they were right. Maybe Rin’s cold exterior had been hiding something all along.

[yours-truly-q]

~ Vexation ☆·*○.

☆ Synopsis - You forgot you had your binder on, and you're a bit resistant to taking it off. Levi had a bad day but still makes sure you take care of yourself! ☆ Warnings! - Fluff mostly! Levi is a bit ooc but I think thats it :P ☆ Pairing/s - Levi Ackerman x gn!reader ☆ Notes - Binge watched almost all of aot but couldn't watch anymore after Eren started going evil mode, It was so happy what happened 😭😭 w/c - 1k

Walking into the mess hall, you spot Levi sitting at the head of one of the tables, sipping on a cup of, what you can only assume is, tea. The moment you catch his eye, you smile at him, giving a small wave before sitting down in the closest seat to his left. The only clue that Levi heard what you said was that he glanced at you before taking a sip of his tea and looked away. Your brows furrow a little, at his lack of acknowledgement, but you shrug and move on, assuming he had a bad day.

Opening the book you bought with you, you flip through it, searching for the specific page you left off on last. You settle on one and start to read through the words, sighing slowly and contently as both you and Levi are eased into a calm silence. The only noises that are heard is the occasional sound of ceramic on wood from Levi’s cup and, if you strain your hearing, the faint chatter and bickering of the cadets, no doubt, causing chaos around the base. With how loud they were, even from across the other side of the camp, you figure you’ve found the source of Levi’s bad mood. However none of those sounds seemed to pull either of you out of the cozy bubble that had surrounded you both, willing the tensions in your muscles and Levi’s, borderline constant, state of alertness, to slowly relax. You sink further into your seat, happy to finally have a calm moment with Levi, even if neither of you are talking.

However, as you sink into your seat, your ribs ache in protest, causing you to wince a little before adjusting to a more favourable position for your body. You vaguely wonder why your torso hurts but dismiss the thought assuming it’s probably nothing. You sigh again and flip the page in your book before, surprisingly, Levi breaks the silence for once.

“How long have you had your binder on for?” He asks monotonically, eyes flicking briefly down to your sides then jumping back up to your eyes. You guess he must’ve caught the brief twist of pain in your expression making you smile sweetly at his care and observance.

Then your face flashes with recognition at his words, giggling bashfully while understanding that, ‘yes, it was your binder that was making your sides groan in protest’. “Ah, shit, I forgot I had it on.” You honestly reply, a sheepish smile pulling at your face, yet you make no move to take it off for that much needed break that your ribs and lungs needed. When you don’t so much as twitch, he raises an eyebrow seeing if that will prompt you to leave and take the thing off.

“You gonna sit there and crush your ribs to shit or are you going to take it off?” Levi queries rhetorically after a moment, while he pulls his mug up to his lips, staring at you from over the edge of the ceramic to read your expressions.

“I can’t be bothered.” You groan dramatically, dropping your book onto the table in front of you and pouting just a little bit as you sink further down your seat. Levi rolls his eyes and sets his cup onto the table in front of him. He stands, running a hand through his hair while stepping towards you, not quite a fan of the idea of you squishing your ribs to shit.

“Too bad, get it off” Levi states plainly, voice almost comparable to when he’s giving order, just a bit softer and quieter. Crossing his arms, Levi looks down at you from his standing position and you can’t tell whether you should be intimidated or turned on.

You frown and you look away from him, eyes glancing at the neighbouring chairs and tables that surround you both. You think over his words for a moment, coming up with a counter of some sort while your hand comes up to rub your neck. You purse your lips and try to ignore the feeling of Levi’s eyes staring holes into the side of your head. 

You whine before you ask him, “Can’t I just have, like, 2 more minutes or something? It’s not like I’m going to spontaneously combust if I have it on for another 5 minu-”

“-No, take it off.” Levi cuts you off with a commanding tone, leaning his face closer to yours while tugging your head in his direction, refusing to let you look away. The hand that is now on your jaw tightens minutely as his eyes bore into your own with warning, daring you to ask him again. Levi breathes out a sigh, slow, controlled and you feel it fan against your cheeks causing a small blush to erupt on your face. The close proximity doesn’t help to quell the redness in your cheeks nor does Levi’s eyes skimming over your figure then re-seizing eye contact with you. You try to look away but his fingers just tug your face back to his, hardening their grip.

Despite your slightly flustered state, you steel your resolve and open your mouth about to throw out another protest before Levi cuts you off once again.

“Ask me one more time and I’ll cut the damn binder off of you” He threatens, voice level but dripping in a promise to make good on his word, giving you no choice but to listen to him.

“Fine…” You pout and pull your face out of his hold so you can look away from Levi and sulk in your chair. He gives an approving hum before stepping back, giving you space to stand up and go take your binder off for a break. As you start walking away, you don’t notice how Levi’s lips tugged upward in a small adoring smile, nor how his eyes softened at the sight of you. Even though he had a bad day and you were a pain in the ass, there was something endearing about it, about you, and for some reason that was beyond him, he wouldn’t change that for the world.

[colchiansiren]

one thing i love about percy jackson and annabeth chase is how they're both the sunshine to each other's midnight rain.

percy's childhood wasn't an easy one. and when he finds camp half-blood, the closest thing to a safe place, his life was still filled with constant quests, monster attacks, tragedy, near-death experience, war, tartarus and a lifetime of trauma. yet, yet, in the midst of all the chaos annabeth was his biggest source of comfort. when he met aphrodite he saw annabeth. when he bathed in styx he saw annabeth. when he lost his memories he remembered annabeth. when he saw her falling in hell, he chose to follow her to the world of dead over everything else. he dreams to settle down and grow old with her. his past and present was filled with struggles and trauma yet his dream to have a future with annabeth keeps him going. she was the happiest and best thing which happened to him since sally and even if his life is an exhausting one, as long as he has annabeth, he will always have something to look forward to.

annabeth's childhood was equally bad. this girl was desperate to be loved properly almost all her life, only to be constantly denied or abandoned. her step mother resented her and her father chose his other family, forcing her to run away. luke promised her a family, only to betray her and leave her broken. thalia was tragically killed and when she was brought back to life, she chose a new life with hunters. and then there's percy, who continued to chose her over and over and over again. when annabeth was kidnapped, no one was as desperate as percy to rescue her. when she was stabbed, no one acted as frantic as percy. when she was falling in tartarus, percy didn't think twice before jumping after her. whenever she felt she's be abandoned again, he proved her wrong. and loved her unconditionally to go to hell and back for her. he promised her he will never let her get away from him. and he kept his word.

[anki-of-beleriand]

Bad Liar ch. 16

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - Mentions of Natasha/Maria being married

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - violence - mentios of abused and sexual assault - more tags as the story progress.

Author's note: The aftermath of the confrontation with Vision, and the realities Wanda now needs to face.

Guys, we are almost there!!! Two chaptrs to go! Please rmemeber English is not my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes, hope you like this one.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 16

New Year’s Eve

There was a constant beeping inside your head.

Your mind broke into several images at first, your ears twitching trying to grasp the source of the beeping noise without any success. At first, it was difficult to get a hold of your consciousness, your mind was a pool of different sections of memory that made you dizzy at first, then it stopped. 

A gun.

Screams.

Wanda!

The beeping became a deafening whistle and then it stopped. 

Your eyes popped open only for you to close them again with an exclamation of pain leaving your lips. You tried to lift your left arm but it was heavy, numb to any other sensation; thus, trying to protect your eyes from the lights above your head was impossible. You grunted, clenching your eyes close tightly, until a soothing hand placed itself on your right hand.

“Y/N?” America mumbled softly; her voice denoted the tiredness the young woman felt though there were traces of excitement right there. “Y/N?”

“Ugh, just give me a few minutes, I feel like my head is going to explode.” You whispered back making a face while trying to open your eyes once more, this time around slowly and squinting your eyes so as not to bother the retina.

America sighed in relief, her lips drawing a sad smile while she grasped her sister’s hand. The moment she had been brought into the hospital; America feared the worst but was soon calmed down by Tony telling her nothing too life threatening had happened. Just a gunshot on the arm, and a few badly cured wounds and bruises you couldn’t keep up with any longer. 

“Wha-What happened? Wanda…Wanda, the kids…America!” 

You jerked awake completely almost falling on your side while trying to sit up, America jumped away only to go back to you trying to push you back on the bed. She frowned, shaking her head until her eyes finally found yours, reading in them the desperation you had been experimenting all day.

“I’m here, they are here, we’re fine.” America tried to sound reassuring, pressing you back on the bed, “come on stop struggling, you idiot! You’re hurt and need to take it easy for a moment.”

It wasn’t until then that you noticed the bandages covering your sister’s wrists, she too held some bruises and cuts on her face but otherwise America was unharmed. Your eyes went big, this time around you lifted your good arm cupping your sister’s face.

“Kiddo, are you alright? God, I’m so sorry…”

America swallowed down her emotions nodding curtly, “I’m…I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“Your wrists…”

“I-I cut myself trying to get away from the ropes.” She explained looking at the bandages, “I couldn’t and perhaps if I had done so…”

“You would be dead.” You replied wrapping your right arm around your sister putting her to you. “I’m sorry, I put you in danger kiddo, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry.”

America slumped down holding onto you with tears forming in her eyes, her arms sneaking under your body until she was hugging you tightly. You felt your own tears prickling in your eyes, holding onto the only family you had left. 

“I was so scared.” She whispered between sobs, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I’m sorry that…that she didn’t tell you everything.”

You blinked slowly while pushing America away for a moment, you tilted your head trying to sit down. America soon was by your side lifting the bed and helping your position on the bed, she was still crying softly but relief was quite evident in her features.

“What do you mean everything? Who was supposed to tell me everything?” You dragged the words tilting your head, America tensed with her brows knitting together.

“Wanda.” She spat out shaking her head, “Me and the others found out she had been living with that asshole for a time now, I confronted her when things with you were getting serious, she told me she would speak with you but…”

“Wait, you knew about Wanda’s husband? You dug into her past without consulting me?” You snorted, shaking your head, “she told me about Vision. She told me…”

“That he almost killed her and the twins several times? That the last time she was put into the hospital she decided that was enough because the man burned a knife on Tommy’s back while she was out?” America exclaimed with her voice getting louder and louder with every word.

“That the man had a restrained order? That…that, I almost lost you?” America was shaking by now, it was as if she had been containing herself until that point and seeing you like this, all hurt and weak finally broke the resistance inside her.

“It is her fault! It’s all Wanda’s fault!”

You winced trying to incorporate, almost falling on your knees you grabbed America and pulled her towards you hugging her as tight as you could. A part of you understood where this was coming from, America had never seen your parents’ bodies the way you had to, she had only gone to the funeral so she was never there to see their broken bodies still, the trauma lingers and the fear that was trying to consume America was something you had already experienced. You were her only family, if she lost you then what would be of her?

She hugged you back sobbing silently against your chest, your body protested at the stress you were putting it into but you didn’t care. You waited until America seemed to calm down, your voice finally reaching out to her more logical part instead of her emotional one.

“It’s okay to be angry, Kiddo, it’s okay…” You whispered with your hand drawing soothing circles on her back, “but it’s not Wanda’s fault, or yours, or mine…Kiddo, what others do, what others decide to do is not our fault…This is the fault of a man that wanted to be evil, Wanda was just a victim, like you, like me…but we cannot blame ourselves when he is the one that should be carrying with this.”

America took a breath holding back her rage and her fear, she didn't agree nor she denied your words, instead she stepped back giving you a quick check up. You were wearing a hospital gown, your left arm had been put on a sling holding your arm tightly against your chest. Your face was covered in bruises, with your hair badly combed with a paleness that came with the concussion and the tiredness you felt the day before. 

“You were lucky,” America stated pointing to your arm, “the crazy woman, she went mad shooting like crazy she just hit your arm, the…they have to shoot her down.”

You gulped nodding curtly while glancing at your arm, you didn't remember much after the initial shooting. But you remembered the burning pain, the numbness going on your left side and then just giving into darkness. 

“What about…?” You didn't finish the question, America shook her head.

“He was arrested, not before he almost killed Wanda with his bare hands.” 

America had heard enough from Tony and that one eyed man, she had been taking care of the twins when this was mentioned and of course she had seen Wanda come into the emergency room right after you. Everything had been so confusing she could barely remember anymore, or at least tried to pinpoint where to go whenever she felt lost. Kate had been released early in the day and while she offered to stay, America knew Kate’s mother would want to be with her. 

You sat down on the bed again, your knees trembling under the weight of your body. You winced finally feeling the effects of the medication wear off.

“How is Wanda?” You asked tentatively, America tensed up nodding to the door.

“She is at the other end of the hall, with Billy and Tommy.” Then after a moment of hesitation, “Hope is with them.”

“Have you talked to Hope already?” You inquired lifting a brow at your sister, the young woman shrugged looking away from you. “America…”

“I'm just happy you are okay.” America let herself drop right beside you, you smiled wrapping your good arm around her. 

“I'm happy you and the others are okay.” 

America sighed, closing her eyes, “do you want something? I need to tell the doctor and the nurse you are okay.”

“It's Vodka an option?” You teased, America snorted, shaking her head.

“I can try.”

“Please do, and while you're at it try to record their reaction.” 

America chuckled, pushing you playfully while standing up.

“If you're cracking bad jokes already, that means we will be home on time for the New Year celebrations.”

You frowned, cocking your head while speaking again.

“What do you mean? What day is today?”

This time around America was the one frowning, “It's New Year's Eve, more exactly we are eight hours away from the new year.”

“Woah, so I was unconscious what? Twelve hours?”

“More or less, yes.” 

“I was lucky.”  You stated absentmindedly, America glanced at you for a long time before nodding.

“We were lucky.” America didn’t say much after that, you furrowed your brows trying to actually feel the strength coming back to your body.

“Even if I’m not release today, we should celebrate New Year today,” you dared to glance at America who pursed her lips nodding curtly, “I mean, we shouldn’t stop celebrating the good things in life, and well…”

America let out a heavy sigh, she passed around the room stopping right in front of you. Her hands placed carefully on your shoulders and for the very first time you saw your stepmother in her, the same determination behind her brown eyes and her serious features.

“I have never felt so afraid before, Y/N, and while I was there trying to get away I was…I was feeling powerless to help the twins, to help Kate, to help Wanda.” America trailed off never breaking her eyes contact with you, she swallowed down her tears opening her mouth with a quivering lip.

“I thought what you would do, and when I heard him said he had killed you,” America snorted, “I was ready to do something foolish, yet I felt so defeated.”

“America…” You started but she then broke into a half smile, shrugging while squeezing your shoulders comfortingly.

“Then I heard you were okay, that you were trying to get me and the twins out of it and I knew.” America rolled her eyes punching you lightly on your good shoulder.

“What did you knew know?” You asked when America didn’t elaborate, the young woman lifted her chin stepping back nearing the door.

“That you are in love with Wanda, that you love those kids as if they were your own, and that you would never let anything bad happen to me or them, even if you have to sacrifice yourself.”

You broke into the same smile, shaking your head you offered a sheepish stare to America.

“What can I say? It is the foolish in me, perhaps in another life I was a hero.”

“Perhaps, you doofus, I think…it would take time, but I understand.” She mumbled with her eyes shining lightly.

“I know, kiddo, I know.” You called to her and she stopped right before closing the door, “I think more now than ever they will need a big sister, you know?”

America snorted shaking her head, “it’s good then that I learnt how to be a good big sister from the best.”

And with that, America left you alone while she went to look for the doctors. You kept your eyes on the white door for a long time, your mind numb giving into the growing pain on your left side. You didn’t dare to let your thoughts wander towards Wanda or the twins for fear of just jumping to your feet and running to her room. Whatever had happened, whatever stated she was in the last thing you wanted to do was to overwhelm her or scared her away. You could still remember the fear in her eyes, the sudden changed in her whole demeanour while she gave into a state of numbness that broke your heart.

You took a deep breath, looking around you found America’s mobile and after a moment of hesitation you grabbed the gadget watching the time and the day. With a trembling thumb, you decided that you wouldn’t let this to change things with Wanda or America or even Billy and Tommy.

A plan already forming on your mind.

__________________

It took fifteen minutes for everyone to come rushing into your room as soon as the news of you waking up reached them up.

As you expected it, Christine and Strange were the first to come rushing into your room ready to check over your wounds and bandages. Your chest exploded into a wave of warm affection when they started fuzzing around you making you go back to the bed to make a full check-up while asking questions about your physical health.

Soon Hope came in as well with Tony, Reed and Sue who had made sure to be there as well. This time around the questions changed into a more deep, emotional speech to find your emotional state, with everyone being careful of mentioning Wanda or her children. When it became too much, and your anguish grew without everyone taking noticed of this, Christine and Pepper came right in hushing everyone out of your room with only America, Christine, Hope and Pepper staying behind.

You closed your eyes slowly, wincing when the shifting on the bed made you pressed your weight on your left side.

“Easy there, Y/N, it would take some time to get use to it but the pain won’t last that long.” Christine spoke soothingly, she offered a shaky smile at you while helping you get comfortable. “You were really lucky she was bad with guns, and her aim.”

You gave a crooked smile, “I was lucky indeed.”

Hope glanced at America then at you, the exchanged didn’t go amiss by you and soon your eyes were on your best friend.

“How is Wanda?” Finally, after almost two hours of avoiding the topic you brought the white elephant into the room.

Hope sighed stepping closer to you, “she is not okay, this really shake whatever progress we made in the past and has been affecting her greatly. She feels guilty, she feels as if she doesn’t deserve you.”

“She actually thinks you hate her.” America chimed in playing with her lower lip, “and I may have led her to believe she was right.”

You glared at your sister but said nothing, it was okay. It was only natural. The situation had been less than ideal, and everyone reacted differently to these situations, you couldn’t blame America more so than you could blame Wanda or yourself. Hope grabbed your right hand squeezing comfortingly.

“She will need a lot of support, Y/N, if you…” Hope took a deep breath, “if you are serious about her, about a relationship with her then I suggested you start working on convincing her that she deserves to be happy. And that you don’t hate her.”

You looked away finding Christine’s eyes on yours, the young woman smiled gently at you already knowing the answer. You nodded turning to America then to Hope.

“I am very serious, Hope. I wouldn’t have done what I did with just anyone.” You stated serious grabbing your best friend tightly, “I fell in love with Wanda because of who she is, I don’t know if she feels the same or if she even is ready for this but I won’t give up.”

“I know, Y/N. It will take time but…well, I cannot say she feels the same, I can say though that she really feels strongly about you.” Hope shrugged stepping back, “so, who knows?”

“Right.” You sighed turning to the door then back to Hope and Christine, “I need a favour.”

“What is it?” You offered a half smiled wiggling your brows and soon America knew you had planned something incredible reckless and crazy.

Christine and Pepper exchanged a glance pretty familiar with the mischievous glint of your stare ready to see where this favour of you lead them.

____________________________

You were ready to go out of your room, you were tired already of staying in bed more so if there was no need for you to stay overnight.

“You really should try to follow Christine’s advice,” America mumbled helping you inside your pants while shaking her head, you almost fall flat on your ass if America hadn’t hold onto you.

“Ugh, please I’m okay, just bruised and in pain but at least I can get dress, and besides I want to see Wanda and I wasn’t about to flash my but to everyone in this wing.” You glared at the hospital gown before turning to your sister.

America winced making a face at the mention of your butt.

“Yes, I agreed, we don’t need that anymore than we need to.”

You chuckled sitting down on the bed while watching as America went to grab your sneakers and put them on you. Just as she was finishing up the last of them the door to your room opened without any warning, you were about to scold at whoever had come in unannounced when you found yourself staring at Nick Fury and Peggy Carter.

Both agents came into your room, closing the door behind them. Peggy stepped closer her eyes checking you up before the fell on America. The older woman offered a warm smile stretching her hand to your sister.

“You must be Ms. Chavez, I’m Agent Peggy Carter.” America took her hand lifting a brow at her.

“A pleasure.”

“So, agent Carter, Agent Fury, what can I do for you?” You asked right away with your eyes going from Peggy to Fury.

“We came here to inquire about your injuries and your general state,” Peggy started taking a seat on the closest chair, “and then, if you were agreeable to the idea, we are also here to take your testimony.”

“As you can imagine, the case against Jarvis is going to take high priority since he broke into a private airport handle by National Security so, now only is he under some federal charges, he is also being investigate for terrorism and treason.”

You snorted shaking your head, not really understanding how all those charges came to be but happy to know the man would have it really difficult to go out of the trouble he got into. America stood right there glancing at you then at the agents, she bounced on her feet before nodding curtly to herself grabbing her phone and moving to the door.

“In that case, I’m out of here and directly to help Christine and the others with your…surprised.”

“Go on, Kiddo, I’ll be in Wanda’s room if you need anything.”

Peggy watched as America left before settling her eyes on you, Fury took a seat on the sofa and soon both agents had their attention on you.

“Well, where should I start?” You finally asked, Peggy put her phone on the table the recording app on.

“You can start from the beginning, when did you meet Wanda and how you became involve with her, and Jarvis.”

You raised a single eyebrow before nodding, for a moment you kept silent contemplating how much had happened in the last six months of your life. With a deep breath, you started telling them the first day you met Wanda, the different encounters, and the conversations you held with her. It was not relevant, but soon just to humour yourself you started talking about your changing feelings, how you started seeing the other woman and the shaky friendship that blossom one day when you first got to see the scars of the abuse in the boys.

The story then went directly to the confrontation you had with him the day before. His words inviting you over to see something he had been working on, then the surprised attack and you fighting back up until the moment they showed up and cooked up the plan that almost cost you your life and Wanda’s life as well. Peggy shifted uncomfortable, her eyes glancing fast to Nick then back at you.

“Now, I want to know what happen to him,” you asked glancing at both agents, “You promised me nothing bad would happen and I got shot and Wanda was almost killed by the man.”

The reproach was quite evident in your voice, Peggy glanced at Fury then back at you, she leaned forward placing her elbows on her knees making sure you could not look away from her.

“He was already on top of Wanda by the time Agatha shoot you,” Peggy shifted as she recounted what happened while you were unconscious on the ground, “we were supposed to arrest him right there and then, but we never expected him to get to Wanda and tried to strangle her before we could pull him away from her.”

“He knew he had been caught, so his last act before going to jail was to make sure he would kill his wife.” Fury continued shrugging, “he was just a fucking coward.”

Peggy glared at Fury but the man didn’t even flinch, you scowled shaking your head.

“What is a dead woman if he is the sole survivor and the only guardian to his children?” You snorted, shaking your head, “he knew you needed him alive if you were to keep building a case against the criminal organisation he had been stealing from.”

Peggy nodded curtly, not even bothering in denying your words. clenching your jaw, you sit up trying to get out of the bed, Fury stepped forward helping you out of the bed while holding you up.

“I will make sure that man doesn't see the light of another day, Agent Carter, he tried to kill me and my family.”

“I know.” She replied softening slightly, “I'm sorry you have to go through that, you and Wanda…”

“Whatever information he is offering you, I can double it. You have my resources at your full disposal as long as there is written guarantee he won't have the kids custody; his name will be erased from their records.”

Fury lifted a single eyebrow quite impressively while Peggy tried to hold back her expression into a neutral facade. You shrugged pointing a finger to the door.

“I don't know if the movies are real or not, but if the government can make it happen I want that man like the iron mask prisoner from Dumas’ book.”

This time around Peggy cracked a smile nodding curtly, “I shouldn't tell you this but, he wouldn't be our first iron mask prisoner.”

You opened your eyes before squinting them with a hint of suspicion there.

“I can't promise you he would be put away in such a secure place, but I can promise you the other part of your request. He won't have any claim on the children or his ex-wife or his freedom.”

“Good, now I think I'm going to see my girlfriend. If you excuse me, you gave me the perfect chance to run from this place.”

Fury and Peggy watched you leave the office, Peggy waited until she heard your footsteps far along the hall.

“So, tell me why we never recruit her?”

“Her father threatened to skin you and Steve alive if you ever tried it.”

“Right, like father, like daughter.”

_________________

The energy you had spent re-telling your story for the last six months was soon building up again. Your hand hover above the doorknob of Wanda’s room, with you standing right outside waiting for courage and the right words to find a way into your mouth.

You played the words of Hope inside your head, and you went over what America and everyone else had told you so far about Wanda’s real physical and emotional state. You needed to play this right so as to ensure Wanda would not run from you; you lifted your face ready to go in when a couple of questions creep into your mind, what if Wanda really didn’t want anything with you? What if things really change?

The white door was suddenly heavier, bigger and it stood before you as a silent guardian of what was at the other end. You remembered your sister's anger, the fragility of life as your left arm pulsated with the ghost of a bullet piercing your skin and muscle. 

Wanda.

Everything you did up to that point had been for her, right? Then, why were you hesitating?

With more courage that you felt, you grabbed the doorknob and pushed through.

The room had the light of the TV projecting colours of a children’s program on the wall, there was only a single lamp projecting a different light resting on the bedside table. You stepped into the room closing the door behind you and effectively calling the attention of the little lumps resting on the sofa. Billy and Tommy both turned to the door, their eyes growing wide while they expression changed from one of boredom and tiredness to one of happiness.

It caught you by surprised to see as the both of them came rushing to you meeting you halfway and wrapping their arms around you. You winced when Billy got to you first, he crushed into your left side while Tommy grabbed your right side.

“Hey guys,” you greeted them softly, wrapping your good arm around Tommy while later on ruffling Billy’s hair, “it’s good to know you guys are okay.”

“Mommy said…” Billy trailed off stepping away from you, frowning he then pointed to the sling, “she said dad hurt you.”

Tommy pressed his lips together looking down in shame, “we’re sorry.”

You opened your eyes kneeling while putting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, Tommy.” You replied looking at the boy before turning your eyes to his brother, “never felt sorry for what other’s do, guys. He hurt me, but it was not your fault.”

Billy clenched his jaw close stepping closer to you, “he hurt mommy too, and Tommy.”

Tommy trembled feeling the tears in his eyes, you softened your features cupping his face while offering a smile to Tommy.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, Tommy, but he won’t be able to do so anymore, I promise.” Tommy then stepped towards you hugging you tightly hiding his face on your neck.

You wrapped your good arm around him drawing soothing circles on his back, you could see Billy hesitating though this time around he was looking at you with a glint of hope in his eyes.

“Are you…mad? Mommy said you saved her but…she was crying.” Billy furrowed his brows glancing at the bed where his mother was resting then back at you, “I don’t want mommy crying anymore.”

Your heart melted right away, these boys had been in constant fear yet always ready to defend and protect their mother. You shook your head nodding to Billy to come closer to you.

“I’m not mad, Billy. I was worried sick about you guys, and Wanda, I love you guys.” You said without a hint of hesitation, “and I’m sorry I was not there to make sure nothing bad happen to you, or Tommy or Wanda. But I promise you, this won’t happen again. And he…he won’t be able to hurt you again.”

“You promise?” Billy said lifting his right hand, putting his little finger out, “you pinkie swear it?”

You held back your smile, you let go of Tommy for a moment taking Billy’s finger with yours.

“I swear it, Billy.”

And you meant it.

You would do anything that was in your power to protect this family from any harm, they didn’t deserve to keep on suffering the way they had done in the past and if you could offer them something different you would do so.

Billy nodded curtly before he too came into your arms hugging your tightly, you closed your eyes for a moment enjoying the embrace these two kids were sharing with you. You smiled when they let go of you and put their fingers on their lips turning to the bed where Wanda was still sleeping.

It wasn’t until that moment that you noticed the state she was in.

If at any point you doubt your love for Wanda, and what the future held for the both of you it soon crumbled under the weight of your emotions and your beating heart. Your eyes softened at the sight of Wanda sleeping on a hospital bed, there was nothing relaxed on her expression and the way she seemed to be clenching her jaw and fist told you she was probably having a bad dream.

“Dad hurt mommy.” Billy mumbled looking up at you, “can you make her feel better?”

“I will try, kiddo, why don’t you and Tommy go back to the sofa, okay?” The twins glanced at one another then back at you and then at their mother before nodding and running back to the sofa.

You stood by Wanda’s bed taking in the bruises on her face and the bandages covering parts of her body. You were trembling by now, your hand lifting to touch at the bandages covering her neck. The man had tried to make s much damage as he could, and Wanda was now paying a price she shouldn’t be paying. You made a silent promise to the skies to never let anyone or anything hurt her the way Vision had done so.

With a softness that surprised you, you grabbed her hand in yours, drawing soft circles on the back of your hand while leaning in to place a single kiss on her forehead.

Wanda stirred with her eyes popping opened all of a sudden, you could see the flash of panic in those green orbs and the tension of her body pushing her to almost sit up and put herself in unnecessary risk.

“Hey, wait, it's me, Wands.” You tried to soothe her, this time around you placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, tilting your head. You tried to offer a shaky smile but Wanda just shook her head trying to get away from your touch leaving out exclamations of pain from her lips.

“Hey, Wands, wait…” You tried to calm her down, with the twins standing up coming to the bed while looking at you and then at Wanda.

“Y/N? Mommy?” Billy asked tentatively, hearing her son was enough to make Wanda returned her attention to them then back to you.

“Hey, love it’s okay.” You furrowed your brows, while Billy and Tommy were not understanding such a reaction for you was crystal clear what it meant.

The words from Hope came back, and now you understood what they really meant. The fear she was flashing on those green eyes were the silent symbol of the fear she was feeling of getting closer to you once more, of perhaps living the rejection coming from you and experimenting the hate she thought you had for her.

Wanda never lost the tension on her muscles, she tried to ignore you while turning to her children that were looking at her wide eyed.

“I’m okay.” She tried to speak but her voice came hoarse with dried undertones and broken words.

Billy frowned grabbing Tommy by the hand then turning to you and Wanda.

“Y/N is here, mommy. You can sleep again; she pinkie promise dad won’t hurt you. Ever again.”

While Billy offered a tentative smile to his mom you could see the widening of her eyes, and the tension coming back to her. You grabbed her hand, trying to be as careful as you could while making sure she returned her attention to you. Wanda pressed into the bed keeping her face hidden from you while keeping her hand limp.

“Wanda, look at me, please.” You spoke clearly, without demanding but asking as a favour.

After what seemed like an eternity the young woman turned to you and the tears were filling up her eyes.

“You want some water?” You asked lifting your good hand to brush some locks of hair away from her face, “I notice your voice was hoarse and…well, I know why but perhaps cold water can help some with the swelling.”

Wanda felt her lower lip shivered, she was trembling waiting for you to start screaming at her, for the words of finality to leave your mouth. But you never changed your posture, or the softness behind your expression, or even the tender caresses from your hand. You locked your eyes to hers lifting an eyebrow at her.

“Well? You want water or, I can also offer you some Vodka, but that will cost you a kiss at least.”

You chuckled when Tommy and Billy made gaging sounds before erupting in giggles and going back to the sofa. Wanda frowned opening her mouth ready to speak, but with her breath caught in her throat when you placed a single finger on her lips.

“Don’t, Princess, try to not put any unnecessary stress on your voice. Let me bring you the water, and then…” you trailed off leaning, “then we will talk.”

Wanda trembled nodding slightly, you winked at her and then asked the boys if they wanted something to drink asking them to come with you while leaving the room for a moment.

Wanda was soon left alone with her thoughts, she thought the first time she would see you again after the whole ordeal she would be far away, perhaps ready and strong to face your hatred and the finality of whatever relationship you two had built in the last couple of weeks. She had been waiting for you to hate her, to perhaps blame her for what had happened the way America had done so hours ago.

She never expected you to behave the way you were doing, or for you to offer her the smile she loved so much. Or for you to just be you. She held back her tears, her heart beating heart against her chest while she tried to quiet down any whispers of hope that had been trying to grow inside her head and heart, she couldn’t allow herself to hope only for you to perhaps coming back with a breakup and hurtful words against her. Her heart wouldn’t take it.

Ten minutes later you came back alone, your lips curled into a sheepish smile while lifting a glass of water with a straw.

“America and her friends were down in the cafeteria, and Balder was there and the twins wanted to talk to him, I hope you don’t mind.” You stepped closer to Wanda helping her up before offering the straw. “Here, drink some water.”

The woman hesitated before drinking form the straw, her face broke into a mask of pure relief while wincing lightly feeling her throat pulsated with the water flowing inside her. She then opened her eyes, looking directly into yours.

“Thank you.” Wanda whispered looking away for a moment, getting ready with the huge speech she had prepared in your absence, her mouth opened but whatever she had prepared came crushing down and the only thing she could say was a shaky, “I’m sorry.”

“Wanda…” You started but the other woman put a hand on yours gripping your tightly, her green eyes big and desperate.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…I…It wasn’t my intention, I’m sorry, please don’t hate me…”

You could hear and see the effort she was making into talking, her voice was trembling just above a hoarse whisper. You waited until it was impossible for her to continue and then, you leaned in to kiss her forehead tenderly.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, Love.” You whispered for her only, breaking into a tender smile while letting her see the love you felt for her.

She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks her lips trembling. You brushed your hand against her cheek, wiping away the tears while brushing her hair.

“I have never had so much fear in my life that the fear I felt knowing I couldn’t stop him on time and you and the twins and my sister were in danger.” You said softly, furrowing your brows while looking at Wanda.

“I was so afraid that something was to happen to you and them, when I finally got him to leave the kids and America behind my next concern was to make sure you were okay.” This time around you let your fingertips trace a line to the bandages around her neck.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, Wands.”

“Why?” She finally asked, and that single question held everything she wanted to tell you.

Why were you still there with her? Why did you keep coming for her? Why?

You opened your eyes blinking away a couple of times, “I thought it was obvious.”

Wanda furrowed her brows shaking her head, you softened leaning in making sure she was looking deeply into your eyes.

“Because I’m in love with you, Wanda, and from the moment I met you I realized I want nothing more than to make you and the boys happy.” You shrugged offering a tender smile, “I thought it was that obvious, but let me correct that, from now on I will show you every day how much I love you, and I will tell you so, to make sure you know without a glimpse of a doubt.”

Wanda felt her lip quivered, she wanted to say so many things. She wanted to ask for your forgiveness because if she had told you the full story of Vision nothing would have happened. She wanted to tell you that she would understand if you wanted to end whatever it was the both of you have, she had put you and your sister in danger and she would understand. She would understand if you hated her, if you wanted to leave.

And then, you came over to crash all of these thoughts by confessing the most wonderful thing to her. She felt her heart stopped for a moment, and soon she opened her mouth wanting to tell you the same, that she had been in love with you from quite some time. She locked her eyes with yours, her mouth opened ready to say those words…

I love you.

She gripped your hand tightly, and your heart broke at the fragility you found there. Your own tears welling up your eyes, offering a comforting smile when you hold her hand.

“I know.” You said to her silent confession.

She lowered her gaze, gasping when you brushed your lips against hers.

“Wanda, I know life has not been easy or kind to you, but I want you to know that I will be here for you, for Billy and for Tommy.” You all but whispered to her, “whenever you are ready, I still be here, and I won’t leave unless you tell me to. So, you better be ready because, If you want to, I’ll be by your side until we are old and living in an Italian coast watching our grandchildren grow.”

Wanda offered a shaky smile clenching her eyes closed thinking she really didn't deserve you. Or happiness. When she opened her eyes again, you were still there smiling softly at her, and Wanda had to ask herself if she was ready to be with you in such a way. To finally step forward and give herself to you. You whispered sweet, comforting words to her, trying to ease out the sobs leaving Wanda’s lips until the young woman finally fell into an easy sleep.

-------------------------------------------

Wanda was not sure when she fell asleep, her body stirred painfully under the weight of recovery and sleepiness. She could hear the muffled conversation happening in her room, and the excited chatter coming from her children but her eyes refused to open, only giving her the comfort of the sounds of conversation. 

She let the voices soothe her worries, her heart shrank deeply hearing the snickered from her son's and the conviction behind your voice. She loved the tenderness in which America chided them but also the way she conspired with the twins. Wanda didn't know when she let the smile showed on her face, but the moment she opened her eyes your hand was comfortingly wrapped around hers.

“Hey, sleepy head, are you ready?” Your question caught Wanda by surprise, she furrowed her brows opening her mouth only to close it again.

You chuckled turning to the bedside table lifting the glass of water with straw that was left there by a nurse. You offered the straw to Wanda and, after some hesitation, she drank some of it trying to clear her throat while locking her eyes with yours.

“Ready for what?” She finally said in a raspy, guttural voice wincing at the effort.

“For New Year’s celebration, of course!” 

It wasn't until then that the young woman noticed the change in your clothing. You were wearing a loose shirt, your left arm still wrapped around the sling, your legs covered by a nice black jean and some Vans. Your hair out up in a ponytail, freshly washed and ready for an afternoon stroll apparently. She turned to see the twins were both wearing black and khaki jeans with matching jackets and light blue shirts. America wore a beautiful dress and everyone was just ready to go out, Wanda tried to sit up with her eyes slightly open glancing around her room with her heart beating fast and a tingling down her abdomen.

“I brought you a dress that Billy and Tommy select, and a nice coat because, baby is cold outside.”

You chuckled winking at America who rolled her eyes making gagging sounds while Wanda returned your smile blushing lightly. 

“I would offer to help you get dressed, but you know…” you pointed to your arm sheepishly, “Nat is coming over and we will wait upstairs, don't take too long, Wands.”

Wanda opened her mouth to say something, but soon enough her words tangled on her throat when you leaned in, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Just go with the flow, love.” You winked walking backwards before hurrying everyone out of the room.

The room soon felt empty, with just a tad of cold breeze making Wanda shivered. She sat on the bed for a moment until the door of her room opened and there was Natasha with a huge smile.

“I hope you're ready because Y/N really outdo herself this time around.”

Wanda was not sure what to say, the tears were back and her heart was just trembling under the raw affection trying to overwhelm her. Soon her eyes fell upon the dress, Wanda narrowed her eyes trying to calm herself down while letting the older woman assist her still confused as to what exactly was happening and not obtaining any direct answers from the redhead.

“Nu-uh, you will have to wait, Wanda, and you won't regret it.”

Half an hour later Wanda and Natasha were making their way to the elevator of the Hospital, not many people were left in the halls. Midnight was almost there, and many were either in their rooms, on their homes, or on the rooftop. You waited patiently by the elevator, your eyes growing big when you took in the appearance of Wanda who was holding Natasha tightly.

“You look beautiful,” you stepped closer offering your arm to her, Wanda hesitated before taking yours her cheeks burning brightly while her eyes lowering shyly.

“You look good, too.” She replied softly, you chuckled winking at Wanda.

“I want you to have the best New Year’s celebration ever, we were supposed to go to Stepehen and Christine’s party but…since we can, I brought the party to you.”

You explained while standing in front you Wanda, the young woman furrowed her brows turning to the open door of the elevator then back at you. For Wanda you were a box filled with surprises, one after the other, you had always shocked her in ways she never thought possible. She gulped wincing when her spit went down her sore throat, closing her eyes she then lifted her hand to cup the side of your face stepping closer to you.

“I wish I could show you the same, our date was cut short last time,” she shook her head stopping any reply from you, you clamped your mouth shut letting her finish, “I’m sorry about everything, I still think I don’t deserve you…but I will make sure to be worthy of your love, of your company.”

Your heart leaped forward, and your eyes fluttered close when Wanda leaned in kissing you tentatively on the lips. It took you a moment, and soon the both of you were sharing the softest kiss you had ever experienced in your life. By the time the both of you parted, you two were equally flustered, smiling at the other with the same affection growing in your eyes.

“Well, then let’s go.” You said holding onto Wanda and leading her to the elevator where a very amused Natasha had waited all along.

When the doors of the elevator opened in front of you, you smiled hearing the gasp coming from Wanda. The young woman stepped forward glancing around the place while admiring the decorations and the people filling out the place. The night was completely dark, with a cold breeze traveling around the celebrations goers that were wearing heavy coats and drinking warm beverages.

The place had been decorated with lights and torches, tables were set up and many patients with their families and friends were sharing light conversation and food, doctors, nurses and staff members had also been invited and all of them had also chosen different tables to enjoy the music and the tension just before the clock hit midnight.

Wanda turned to you, and you could only smile at her shrugging.

“I thought we need to start the new year with a huge celebration, not on a hospital bed.” You said simply earning yourself a tight hug before she grabbed your hand dragging you down the different tables to the furthest part of the rooftop.

The lights of the city twinkling down the streets, and the music was sometimes interrupted by the host of the radio station someone had put on. Wanda approached the group and soon she found many familiar faces she had met before, she stopped dead on her tracks with you wrapping your arms around her midsection while putting your lips on her ear.

“I told you I call everyone.” You whispered making her shivered under the caress of your voice.

Wanda soon spotted her children talking with Balder and Morgan, while America was standing with her friends laughing and drinking alcohol free cocktails. At the other end was Hope with Reed and Sue, and nearby was Tony, Thor, Sif, Pepper, Stephen and Christine all sharing a good meal. There were to spots free right beside Christine, facing Eleanor Bishop that was trying very hard to not glare at you.

“Thank you.” She whispered at you, you winked at her pointing to the table.

“Let’s go to eat.”

“Here they are!” Tony stood up calling everyone’s attention, he lifted a hand then pointing at you and Wanda just as you two took your seats, “please everyone, let’s give it up for these two women that had shown us that the power of love can do everything and anything!”

You rolled your eyes with your lips drawing a smile, while Wanda dipped her face trying to covered the blush on her cheeks. Soon conversation resumed, and Wand found herself the subject of Christine’s fuzzing.

“Now, I know this may be difficult at first, but nothing spicy, or acid or anything like that, I chose your food for today, and only cold drinks. Well, lukewarm so as to not to hurt yourself.”

You chuckled grabbing your fork with your good hand watching as Wanda gaped at Christine who was like a mother hen trying to tell the young woman what was good for her sore throat. The table was buzzing with light conversation, the food was soon finished and the dessert along with the flutes of champagne were brought over. All around the rooftop people were getting ready to receive the new year, people glancing at their watches while others were just calling their loved ones.

“Are you guys ready?” America came from behind the both of you, you turned around seeing as America rested her stare on Wanda.

Wanda shifted nervously nodding while offering a tentative smile to the young woman. For a moment you waited, you knew America had been mad, she had told you as much as well as the heavy discussion she had with the redhead. But after you spoke with your sister, you thought whatever disagreement she had with Wanda had been cleared out.

“Wanda, I just…” America started, you could see as Wanda tensed clenching her fist while leaning back with her eyes lowering to the ground, “I’m sorry for all the things I said to you. It was not your fault, I just… Y/N is my family, and I almost lost her, I…”

Wanda shook her head placing a hand on top of America’s, her eyes going wide opened gleaming in disbelief.

“No, I’m sorry.” Wanda replied hoarsely, she put a hand on her throat standing up. “I’m sorry, I put you and Y/N in danger, I…”

America did something you never thought possible, she stepped closer wrapping her arms around the woman holding her tightly.

“Stop talking, you fool, you’re going to hurt yourself even more.” She said tenderly, “don’t apologise, I’m sorry for the way I treat you, it was not fair.”

America looked out of the corner of her eyes to see your smile there, she returned the smile before stepping back grabbing Wanda’s hand in hers before grabbing yours and joining them with hers wrapping around your joined hands with Wanda.

“I know there is no one better to be with my sister than you, just don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t.” Wanda whispered looking at you, you stood up intertwining your fingers with hers.

“I won’t either.”

“Good, now get ready is about to be midnight.”

Wanda turned to you, everyone was getting ready around you. You could see the hesitation in her eyes, with a nod of your head you locked your eyes with hers offering a comforting smile.

“It is going to be okay.”

“I don’t deserve her forgiveness.” Wanda replied, she closed her eyes allowing the comforting squeeze from your hand to warm up her heart.

“Whatever happens, Wands, I want to be right there with you. I want to live with you, to grow old with you…to love you, if you let me.” You said softly, “you deserve forgiveness, and you deserve happiness, Love.”

“I'm scared.” Wanda confessed while unable to tell you the reason behind her fear.

She didn't need to tell you, though. You knew, you could imagine the guilt and the fear she held inside her mind for everything that happened, for the things that came in between. You placed a soft kiss on her hair, putting her closer to you.

“Me too.” You replied, chuckling lightly, “but I prefer to be scared and have you by my side than miss the chance to be with you.”

“You're so sappy.” she leaned back offering a teasing smile you returned with a wink.

“Only for you, Princess.” 

Wanda relaxed in your embrace, everyone started standing up checking their watches and grabbing the flutes of champagne.

“Okay everyone, it's about time!”

The music stopped and soon it was replaced for the local radio station in which the announcers were ready as everyone else to start the countdown to the new year.

The rooftop vibrated with excitement, families and friends came together, everyone talking and exchanging their new year's resolutions.

Wanda stepped back welcoming her children in her arms, and America stood right beside you with Kate hugging her from behind. Your eyes soon found those of Wanda and the man in the radio start counting.

“10, 9, 8…”

You chuckled when the twins jumped excitedly, Billy dragging his mom closer to you while also grabbing his brother.

Kate watched the scene with a softening stare kissing America on her cheek.

“You guys look like a happy family.”

“...3, 2, 1 Happy New Year America!!”

The fireworks broke into the sky, everyone gasped and celebrated while Wanda leaned in tilting her head and kissing you openly in front of everyone. Wanda never imagined her year would end in such a way, when she ran away from Vision’s grasp she did so with one thing in mind: To survive.

Now, standing on the rooftop of a hospital with a woman kissing her slowly, tentatively, she realized that love was possible, that being loved was something she also deserved, and that loving someone might not be as bad as she was led to believe. Just as you stepped back with a huge grin adorning your face, Wanda knew.

You two would be forever.

_______________________________________

Next Chapter: Wanda and Reader need to have that date, only family fluff and a bright future ahead of them. With some decisions to be taken, and Wanda finally giving in.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Chapter 2: I'll Be The One Who Stands Here Longer Than The Rest.

Summary: You have a curse: you can’t control when or where you travel through time, but you’re always tethered to Remy LeBeau’s life. For him, you’re a mysterious constant—someone who’s been there at every stage of his life, never aging, never changing. For you, he’s the soulmate you’ve loved across timelines, though you never meet him in the right order.

You’ve seen him as a reckless thief, a heartbroken lover, a guilt-ridden outcast, and a hero struggling for redemption—always knowing him, while he pieces together who you are with every encounter. Pairings: Remy Lebeau/Reader, Past!Remy Lebeau/Bella Donna, Past!Remy Lebeau/Anna-Marie. Warnings: Slow-Burn, Swearing, Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Violence.

The first thing you heard when you opened your eyes were the screams. Not the kind of screams that could be rationalized, explained, or dismissed, but the bone-deep kind—raw and guttural, the kind that made your stomach twist and churn with an unspoken anxiety. 

The second thing you noticed was the smell. Metallic, sharp, and overwhelming. It hit you like a punch to the gut, forcing you to breathe shallowly as your senses adjusted. Slowly, you pushed yourself up from where you’d landed on the wet concrete. Your limbs felt heavy, disoriented from the jump, but the urgency of the screams forced you to move. 

The air around you was dark and cold, pressing in on you like a weight. You pulled your jacket tighter around your frame, trying to block out the chill that seemed to seep into your very bones. Your boots splashed lightly in the puddles beneath you as you took a cautious step forward, your eyes adjusting to the dim light. 

The third thing you saw were the bodies. 

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, your legs locked in place, refusing to move. They were scattered across the tunnel floor, some slumped against the walls, others sprawled where they’d fallen. Blood pooled beneath them, glistening under the faint, flickering light filtering in from somewhere above. Their faces stared back at you—wide-eyed and frozen in the kind of fear that told you they’d seen their deaths coming and had been powerless to stop it. 

You could feel your hands start to shake as you looked down, the wetness you’d felt earlier suddenly making sense. Blood. 

Your hands were covered in it. 

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting as you wiped them on your jacket, on your pants, smearing the crimson across the fabric. But no matter how much you tried, the sensation clung to your skin, sticky and warm, like it had seeped in deeper than the surface. 

The screams echoed again, louder this time, pulling you harshly back to the present. You forced yourself to move, though every instinct screamed at you to do the opposite. Run. Hide. Do anything but keep walking toward the source of those horrific sounds. 

Your boots splashed lightly in the shallow puddles on the concrete floor, the noise almost deafening in the suffocating quiet of the tunnel. You stepped over the bodies carefully, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t avoid them all. The limp forms of men, women, and children were strewn across the ground, their lifeless faces twisted in fear and pain. 

Your stomach churned as you swallowed thickly, trying to push the rising bile back down. You kept your gaze forward, forcing yourself not to look too closely, but it didn’t help. The images had already burned themselves into your mind—wide, unblinking eyes, blood pooling around twisted limbs, the metallic stench of death hanging in the air like a cloud. 

You could feel tears welling in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stumbled forward. Your chest felt tight, like something heavy was sitting on it, squeezing the air out of your lungs. Your hands trembled as you wiped at your face with your sleeve, smearing dirt and blood across your cheek. 

Where the hell was Remy?  You clung to the thought like a lifeline, your mind grasping at the hope that he might be somewhere in the chaos, alive and fighting. He had to be. He always came through when it mattered most, didn’t he? You wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t here. 

But then, another thought crept in, cold and unwelcome, wrapping itself around your chest like a vice. What if he wasn’t? 

Your breath hitched, panic clawing at the edges of your mind. What if he was one of them? One of the bodies you’d stepped over without realizing, his face hidden among the lifeless, the bloodied, the broken— 

“No,” you whispered harshly to yourself, shaking your head fiercely as you forced the thought away. You couldn’t afford to think like that. Not now. “He’s fine,” you breathed, the words trembling on your lips. “I’ve seen him in the future. He’s okay. He’s fine.” 

But the reassurance felt hollow, thin, as though the universe itself might laugh in your face for believing it. 

The screams began to fade as you moved deeper into the tunnel, replaced by an eerie stillness that made your skin crawl. The damp, musty scent of the underground mingled with the sharp tang of blood, and the faint, steady trickle of water somewhere nearby only made the silence more oppressive. 

Your footsteps slowed. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut: the tunnel was completely silent. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and you froze, your entire body stiff with tension. The absence of sound was almost worse than the screams. At least the screams meant someone was still alive, still fighting. But this—this suffocating silence—it felt final. Like the end. 

You glanced around quickly, eyes darting over the flickering shadows that danced against the wet walls of the tunnel. The dim light played tricks on your exhausted mind, turning shapes into threats and making your pulse hammer in your chest. The air felt heavier, pressing down on you like a weight. 

“Remy,” you whispered, the name slipping from your lips like a prayer, trembling and desperate. 

No answer. 

You took a cautious step forward, the soft splash of your boots in the shallow water echoing unnaturally in the empty tunnel. Every sound you made felt deafening, like it would draw attention from whatever horrors still lingered nearby. Your hand instinctively went to your jacket, fingers brushing against the small knife you always kept hidden there. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. 

Another step. Then another. 

The silence stretched on, oppressive and unnatural, wrapping itself around you like a shroud. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to turn back, to run, to get as far away from this place as possible. But you couldn’t. Not when you didn’t know if someone—anyone—was still alive and needed your help. 

You rounded a corner, your breath hitching as your eyes adjusted to the dim light ahead. The tunnel opened up into a larger chamber, and the sight before you made your blood run cold. 

Bodies. More of them. Piled haphazardly like discarded trash, their blood pooling and spreading across the floor in thick, dark rivers. The metallic stench hit you like a wall, so strong it made your stomach churn. You pressed a hand to your mouth, swallowing hard to keep from gagging. 

And then you heard it—a voice, low and broken, cutting through the silence like a knife. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” 

The familiar drawl made your heart leap, but the relief was short-lived. You spun around and saw him, slumped against the cold tunnel wall. 

“Remy—” 

He was sitting on the ground, his back pressed against the damp stone, his head tilted slightly forward as if the effort of holding it up was too much. His trench coat was torn and bloodstained, hanging open to reveal the black body armor beneath it. But it was his hands that made your stomach drop. They were pressed tightly against his side, covered in blood—so much blood—as it seeped through his fingers, pooling beneath him. 

He looked... broken.

His face was pale, his usual cocky smirk nowhere to be found. His hair hung in damp strands over his forehead, matted with blood and sweat. His crimson eyes, always so sharp and full of life, were dulled, flickering faintly in the dim light. 

“Yeah, well,” you said, your voice shaky as you quickly scanned the tunnel behind you, making sure no one else was coming. “The universe had other plans.” 

You dropped to your knees in front of him, your hands shaking as you reached for him. “What the hell happened?” you whispered harshly, your voice breaking. 

Remy shook his head weakly, his expression anguished. “Don’t,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, his Cajun accent thick and slurred with pain. “Please... jus’ go. You don’ need t’ see this. Don’ need t’ be here.” 

“Shut up,” you snapped, your voice trembling as you looked him over. “You’re bleeding. Badly.” 

He gave a weak, humorless chuckle, his eyes meeting yours for a moment. “Ain’t nothin’ new, chère.” 

“Remy, stop,” you said, your voice breaking as you quickly shrugged off your jacket. The cold air bit at your skin, goosebumps erupting along your arms as you knelt closer to him. “What the hell happened down here?” 

He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes, his head leaning back against the wall. 

You reached for his hands, gently pulling them away from the wound despite his weak protests. “Don’...” he murmured, his voice faint. 

The moment your hands brushed his, the bond snapped into place. That overwhelming, electric connection that always left you breathless surged through you, sharp and undeniable. It wasn’t just a feeling—it was a force of nature, something primal and raw, threading through your very being like a live wire. It was like the universe itself was shaking you, reminding you of the truth you could never escape. You were tethered to him. No matter the choices, no matter the pain, no matter the timeline. 

With trembling hands, you pressed your jacket against the wound on his side, the fabric instantly soaking with blood. You could feel his body tense beneath your touch, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as the pressure sent a fresh wave of pain through him. 

“Hold still,” you murmured, your voice trembling as you pressed harder. “We have to get you help.” 

“Non,” he breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper. “Jus’ leave me. It’s... it’s the least I deserve.” 

Your head snapped up, anger flaring in your chest despite the tears threatening to spill. “You’ve done some pretty questionable things,” you said, your voice sharp, though it cracked with emotion. “But you don’t deserve to die down here, Remy.” 

He gave a weak, bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a broken exhale. His eyes fluttered open, and for just a moment, the faint glow of his crimson irises met yours. “I led ‘em here,” he whispered, the words slurred as though they weighed too much to carry. 

“What?” you asked sharply, your hands pausing against the wound for a fraction of a second before you pressed harder, desperate to stop the bleeding. “What do you mean?” 

“I didn’t—” He grimaced, his body jerking slightly as the pain flared. “I didn’t know what they were gonna do. I swear.” 

Your blood ran cold as his words settled over you. “Remy,” you said, your voice low and trembling, “what the hell are you talking about?” 

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned his head back against the wall, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his breathing grew more ragged. And then, for the first time, you saw it. The tear tracks cutting through the blood and grime on his face. The first two tears fell silently, gliding down his cheeks before disappearing into the collar of his torn shirt. 

Your heart clenched so tightly it felt like it might shatter. This wasn’t him—the cocky, self-assured thief who always had a quip on his lips and a spark of mischief in his eyes. This was a man who looked broken, torn apart by guilt so deep it was suffocating him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as his head dropped forward slightly. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know what they were gonna do.” 

“Remy,” you said firmly, your hand gripping his face, forcing him to look at you. His skin was clammy and cold, his gaze unfocused, but you held on, your own tears welling in your eyes. “What are you talking about? What did you do?” 

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, you saw everything. The guilt. The regret. The overwhelming weight of something he couldn’t take back. His lips parted, but the words didn’t come right away. He swallowed hard, his throat working as he tried to find the strength to speak. 

“He told me t’ find them,” he said finally, his accent thicker now, the words dragging like he had to force them out. “So I found them, the maurauders. And then they said... said they just needed someone who knew the tunnels, someone who could get ‘em in. I don’t know what I expected them to do but not this,” His voice cracked again, and he shook his head weakly. “I didn’t know, chère.” 

Your stomach dropped, the weight of his words hitting you like a freight train. “Oh my God,” you whispered, your hands trembling as you cupped his cheek, trying to keep him from looking away. “Remy... no.” 

“I didn’t know,” he choked out, his tears falling faster now. “I didn’t know what they were plannin’. Swear to God, I didn’t know. I thought—” He broke off, his voice hitching in his throat as his head dropped forward again, his body shaking. 

“Remy, look at me,” you said, your voice breaking as tears spilled over your own cheeks. You gently lifted his face again, your thumb brushing against his bloodied cheek. “You didn’t know.” 

He let out a bitter, broken laugh, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “But it is my fault,” he said, his voice hoarse and raw. “I led ‘em here. If I’d jus’—if I’d asked more questions, if I’d said no...” He trailed off, his breathing hitching again as he tried to hold back another sob. 

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how to fix this, how to pull him out of the pit of guilt and anguish he’d fallen into. All you could do was hold him, your hand pressing your jacket tightly against his wound, a futile barrier against the blood that seemed determined to spill no matter what you did. Tears burned in your eyes, falling freely now as they mingled with his. 

There were no words big enough for this moment, no language vast enough to hold everything you felt for him. You had spent so long carrying it in silence, this love that existed in the spaces between your words, the glances held too long, the touches that lingered just a second more than they should have. It was a love that had grown quietly, stubbornly, like a flower blooming in a crack of concrete. And now here he was, broken and bleeding in your arms, and there was nothing you wouldn’t do to keep him here, to keep him alive. 

You pressed your forehead against his, your breath shaky as you whispered, “Remy, you need to look at me.” 

He didn’t. His eyes stayed stubbornly fixed on the ground, his jaw tight, his chest shuddering with uneven breaths. You could feel the weight of his guilt pressing down on him, dragging him further into that dark place, and it terrified you. 

“Please,” you begged, your voice cracking. 

Finally, slowly, he lifted his gaze. His crimson eyes met yours, and what you saw there nearly broke you all over again. The cocky, sharp-eyed thief you’d fallen in love with was gone, replaced by a man drowning in regret, his usual fire extinguished. He looked so tired, so defeated, and it made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t describe. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling but steady. “I promise you that everything’s going to be okay.” 

He shook his head weakly, his lips parting like he wanted to argue, but you didn’t let him. 

“You wanna know how I know?” you continued, your voice soft but firm. “Because I’ve seen you, Remy. I’ve been there with you years from now. You make it through this.” 

He let out a shaky exhale, his head turning slightly, his gaze drifting toward the bodies scattered around the blood-soaked tunnel. You saw the pain flash across his face, the way his expression crumpled as the weight of what he’d done threatened to crush him all over again. 

“No, no,” you said quickly, your voice urgent as you gently grabbed his face, your hand trembling as you turned him back to you. “You look at me,” you whispered, your thumbs brushing against the stubble on his jaw. “Okay? You look at me.” 

His eyes darted back to yours, reluctant and full of pain. 

“Do you feel that?” you asked him quietly, your voice breaking as you pressed your trembling hand over his heart. You could feel the faint, uneven thrum of it beneath your palm, a fragile reminder that he was still here, still alive. “ That’s you and me and this stupid bond against this whole damn universe, okay? That’s you and me, Remy. And I’m telling you, everything is going to be okay. Because I’ll make sure it is. I’ll do everything I can to make you feel okay again.” 

He let out a quiet, broken laugh, the sound barely audible, but you could see the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—something that wasn’t pain, something that wasn’t guilt. It was faint, fragile, but it was there. 

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you leaned closer, your forehead pressing to his again. “You don’t get to give up on me,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you wiped another tear from his cheek with your thumb. “Not now. Not ever.” 

His hand, weak and trembling, came up to cover yours where it rested on his face. His touch was light, almost hesitant, but it was enough to send a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you. 

“Besides since when have I cared about what you think anyway?” you said, trying to smile through the tears. It was watery, fragile, but it was yours, and you saw the faintest hint of a smirk tug at the corner of his lips in response. 

But it didn’t last. His gaze flickered toward the bodies again, the weight of the massacre pulling him back down into that darkness. 

“Remy,” you said firmly, pulling his attention back to you. “Stay with me. Just keep looking at me, okay? We’ll figure this out later. Right now, we need to get you out of here.” 

He blinked at you, the exhaustion and pain etched deeply into his face. “I don’... I don’ deserve t’ make it outta here,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and heavy with guilt. 

“Shut up,” you said softly but fiercely, your hands cupping his face as you stared into his eyes. “You don’t get to do that self-pitying shit with me. You’re getting out of here because I need you to. Do you hear me? I need you.” 

His breath hitched, a sharp, uneven sound that broke your heart all over again. For a fleeting moment, you thought you saw the glimmer of fresh tears welling in his crimson eyes, and it made your chest tighten painfully. 

“You shouldn’,” he whispered, his voice cracking, so faint you almost didn’t hear it over the sound of your own ragged breathing. “You shouldn’ need someone like me.” 

The words hit you like a knife to the gut, sharp and cruel—not because they were true, but because you knew he believed them. He always had. No matter how much you’d fought to show him otherwise, some part of him had always clung to this belief that he wasn’t good enough, that the things he’d done in the dark corners of his life made him unworthy of love, of forgiveness, of you. 

You shook your head vehemently, tears spilling freely down your cheeks now. Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you struggled to find your voice. But when you spoke, it was low and trembling, heavy with all the emotions you’d been carrying for so long. 

“Don’t you get it?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you cupped his face again, your fingers trembling against his blood-streaked skin. “I don’t care who you think you are, or what you’ve done, or what you think you deserve. You’re my soulmate, Remy. And despite the universe throwing me around like some fucking joke, despite everything it’s taken from me, you’re the one thing I’ll always need.” 

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you had to pause, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back the sobs threatening to overtake you. You wanted to say more—needed to say more. The words you’re the love of my life hovered on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say them. You didn’t need to. He already knew. 

You both knew. 

It was the unspoken truth that had always lingered between you, a fragile, precious thing that neither of you had dared to fully acknowledge. Because saying it out loud would make it real, and real meant it could be taken away. Real meant it could hurt more than it already did. And sometimes, the weight of it was too much to even think about, let alone speak aloud. 

You stared into his eyes, willing him to understand, to let go of the guilt long enough to see himself the way you saw him. 

“So,” you said softly, your voice steadying as you forced a small, shaky smile onto your face, “you’re gonna need to stay conscious, because I have no idea how to get out of this place without you. Got it?” 

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his gaze searching yours like he was trying to find something, trying to grasp onto the hope you were offering him. Then, slowly, he gave a faint nod, his head dipping just slightly as if to say, I’m here. I’m still with you. 

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. You moved away from him slightly, reaching down to check the jacket you’d pressed against his side. The moment you shifted the jacket, a pained groan escaped his lips, low and guttural, and it made you wince. 

“Sorry,” you murmured quickly, your hands trembling as you inspected the wound. The blood was slowing, but not enough to ease your concern. The sight of it—dark and sticky against the pale skin of his torso—made your stomach turn, but you didn’t let yourself falter. 

“You’re still bleeding,” you muttered, pressing the jacket back against the wound with more pressure. He hissed through his teeth, his head tilting back against the wall as another groan of pain escaped him. 

“I know, I know,” you whispered, your voice soft and apologetic as you adjusted the pressure. “I’m sorry, Rem. I know it hurts.” 

He let out a weak, breathy laugh, though it sounded more like a pained exhale. “Yeah, well... ain’t my first time bleedin’ out,” he muttered, his Cajun accent thick and slurred from exhaustion. 

You huffed a small, shaky laugh despite yourself, tears still clinging to your lashes. “Well, it’s the first time you’re doing it on my watch, so cut it out. Besides, it’s not even that bad,” you said, your voice trembling but laced with determination. 

He gave you a faint, lopsided smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still managed to tug at your heart. 

“Okay,” you said, more to yourself than to him, as you adjusted your grip on his arm. “I’m gonna get you up, and we’re gonna get out of here. And it’s going to suck ass, so I’m sorry in advance.” 

You hooked your arm under his, shifting yourself closer to him until his weight was leaning against you. He let out another groan as you moved, his body tensing, but he didn’t resist. 

“You good?” you asked, your voice tight with strain as you braced yourself. 

“Not even close, chère,” he muttered, but you could hear the faintest hint of amusement in his tone. 

You gave him a small, determined smile as you wrapped one arm around his waist. The other hand stayed pressed firmly against the jacket over his wound, trying to keep the pressure steady. His hand moved to cover yours, his fingers weak but purposeful as he pressed down to help. 

The small gesture made your breath hitch. 

For a moment, you didn’t move. You just stood there, holding him, your heart pounding as you felt his fingers lace through yours. It was such a small thing, but in that moment, it felt monumental. Like he was telling you, without words, that he trusted you, that he was still here, still fighting. 

You glanced up at him, your lips trembling as you fought to keep the tears from falling. His crimson eyes, usually so full of mischief and fire, were soft now, unguarded in a way that made your chest ache. It was rare to see him like this, without the mask he always wore—the cocky smiles, the teasing quips, the carefully crafted charm that hid the broken pieces beneath. 

Now, every crack in his armor was exposed, and it hurt to look at him like this, so vulnerable and raw. But at the same time, it reminded you why you loved him so fiercely. That deep, quiet part of him, the part he tried so hard to hide from the world, was the part that had always drawn you in. 

Despite the pain etched into every line of his face, there was something else there—something deeper, something quieter. It was in the way his gaze lingered on yours, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly over your hand. It was in the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this moment, to this life. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice so soft it was hardly more than a breath. 

The words hit you harder than you expected, making your chest tighten painfully. You blinked quickly, trying to stave off the tears that threatened to spill again. You couldn’t afford to fall apart right now. He needed you to be strong, even if you felt like you were breaking inside. 

“Stop being so needy,” you whispered, trying to inject some levity into your trembling voice. “I’m annoyed that you’ve bled all over my clothes.” 

He gave a faint chuckle, though it sounded more like a ragged exhale. “Still... thank you,” he repeated, his voice warm and heavy with meaning. 

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. Instead, you shifted under his weight, bracing yourself as you prepared to lift him. Your hand still pressed against his side, trying to keep the blood from spilling faster, and your arm around his waist felt like the only thing holding him together. 

“Alright, Cajun,” you said, your voice steadier now, though the strain of the moment was still evident in your tone. “On three.” 

He let out a faint groan of protest, his head tilting weakly toward you. “Don’ make me do math right now,” he muttered, his accent thick and slurred from exhaustion. 

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, though it was shaky and tinged with worry. “Okay, fine. No numbers. It’ll be a surprise. Just... hold on to me, alright?” 

His fingers tightened slightly over yours, the small gesture sending a wave of emotion crashing through you. He nodded faintly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening again, as if he were fighting to stay present. 

With a deep breath, you pushed yourself to your feet, pulling him up with you. His weight sagged heavily against you, a pained grunt escaping his lips as you moved him. You winced in sympathy, your arm tightening around his waist as you steadied him. 

“See?” you said, your voice strained but light as you tried to keep him focused. “Look at us. Anyone would think I’ve been dragging your ass your whole life.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice weak but teasing. “Real easy. Piece o’ cake.” 

You managed a small smile despite the situation, though your heart ached with everything unsaid between you. The air around you was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the damp, musty scent of the underground. The faint trickle of water echoed somewhere in the distance, a hollow, haunting sound that seemed to mock the silence of the tunnel. 

The bodies scattered around you were a grim reminder of what had happened here, of the horrors neither of you could fully process yet. The blood pooling on the ground reflected the dim, flickering light of the tunnel, painting everything in shades of red and shadow. You tried not to look too closely, tried not to let the horror of it all overwhelm you. But it lingered at the edges of your mind, threatening to pull you under. 

And yet, amidst all the chaos, all the death and destruction, all you could think about was him. 

This man who had infuriated you, challenged you, made you laugh when you didn’t think it was possible, and somehow, in the middle of all of it, had become your everything. You had never been able to explain it—not to yourself, not to him. But the bond between you was undeniable, a thread connecting your souls that even the universe itself couldn’t sever. 

You loved him. You loved him in a way that sometimes felt like too much, a tidal wave crashing over you, leaving you breathless and vulnerable. It terrified you, the way it consumed every part of you, the way it defied words or logic. It wasn’t the kind of love you could explain; it wasn’t neat or simple. It was messy, complicated, and raw—something born out of the chaos of your lives, forged in the fires of everything you’d been through together. 

And though you’d never dared to say the words out loud, you knew he felt it, too. You saw it in the way he looked at you, the way his gaze softened ever so slightly when your eyes met, like the weight of the world didn’t feel quite as crushing when you were around. It was in the way he always found his way back to you, no matter how far he strayed, no matter how broken he was. It was in the way he trusted you, even now, when he couldn’t trust himself. 

That trust was what kept you moving. His arm hung heavy over your shoulders, his body leaning into you with every step as you guided him down the blood-soaked tunnel. You could feel the strain in him, the way his weight shifted unevenly as he tried to keep himself upright, though you knew it was taking everything he had just to stay conscious. 

And then you felt it—his hand, weak but deliberate, moving against yours. Squeezing yours where your hand pressed against his side, his grip feather-light but steady. The small gesture sent a rush of emotion surging through you, and you blinked back the tears threatening to spill yet again. Even now, even like this, he was reaching for you, grounding himself in your presence. It was such a small thing, but it felt monumental. 

The tunnel stretched on ahead of you, its dim, flickering lights barely illuminating the carnage that littered the floor. The bodies were everywhere, twisted and broken, the blood pooling around them thick and dark. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of it, mingling with the damp, musty scent of the underground. It clung to your skin, to your clothes, to your very soul. 

As you came to a passageway where the bodies seemed to pile together, like they’d tried to flee but hadn’t made it far, you felt him falter. His steps slowed, his weight leaning harder into you as though his legs might give out entirely. 

“Remy,” you said softly, your voice gentle but firm, “I’m sorry, but we have to keep moving.” 

He didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed on the carnage ahead, his crimson eyes wide and glassy. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the way his breathing had quickened, every uneven inhale and exhale sharp and shallow. 

“Remy,” you repeated, more urgently this time, as you gave him a gentle tug forward. He hesitated, his body stiffening, and you could feel him fighting against the urge to stop, to drop down and let the weight of everything crush him. But you couldn’t let him. 

“Come on,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tightened your grip on him, pulling him forward. His steps were reluctant, dragging, and you winced as you felt his body tense every time his boots splashed through more blood, every time you had to guide him over another body. 

You could feel it in him—the way his breathing sped up, uneven and ragged, the way his shoulders tightened with every step. His fingers twitched against yours, his grip on your hand faltering as though he were trying to hold on to you and to himself at the same time. 

“I know,” you murmured, your voice breaking as you kept him moving. “I know, Remy. But we’ve got to keep going. Please.”

But you knew it wasn’t that simple. The bodies were everywhere, impossible to ignore, their lifeless eyes staring up at you like they were seared into your vision. You felt sick, the bile rising in your throat as the coppery stench of blood seemed to thicken with every step. And you knew it was even worse for him. 

You needed to do something—anything—to get him out of his head, to pull him out of the spiral you could feel him slipping into. 

“So anyway,” you began suddenly, your voice louder than it needed to be, trying to cut through the suffocating silence. “There we are, in a literal multiversal wasteland...” 

He didn’t respond, but you felt his hand stiffen slightly in yours, his fingers twitching like he was trying to ground himself in your voice. You kept going, desperate to keep him distracted. 

“And I’ve been there for, like, two days at this point,” you continued, your words coming fast and light, like you were telling a story over coffee instead of dragging the man you loved through a tunnel of death. “Which honestly shocked both of us, because I’ve never really stayed in one place for more than a few hours. But, you know, I guess time doesn’t really exist in the void or whatever.” 

You glanced at him, catching the faintest flicker of a reaction—a slight twitch of his lips, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t quite have the strength. 

“But I digress,” you went on quickly, your voice almost too cheerful, like you were trying to drown out the horrors around you with sheer force of will. The coppery stench of blood clung to the air, thick and suffocating, and the sound of your boots squelching through it made your stomach churn. But you couldn’t focus on that. You wouldn’t focus on that. Not when Remy was leaning so heavily on you, his body trembling with every step. “Anyway, future you has this bright idea to say, ‘Hey, let’s go for a walk,’ which, in hindsight, was an awful idea. But at the time, I thought it was great, because hey, how often do you get to visit the universe’s junkyard?” 

You glanced up at him, watching for any sign that he was listening, that he was still with you. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of his labored breathing and the slow shuffle of your feet through the blood-soaked tunnel. Then, faintly, you heard it—a soft, breathy sound that might have been a laugh, though it was hard to tell. 

Still, it was enough. 

Your chest ached with relief, your lips twitching into a small, shaky smile as you continued. “Turns out,” you said, glancing at him again, “when someone says, ‘You probably shouldn’t do something,’ it doesn’t secretly mean, ‘You should absolutely do the thing.’” You shook your head, your voice light but tinged with mock exasperation. “I could’ve killed you myself, you know. So sometime in the long, distant future, when you’re stuck in the fucking void and I show up, and I tell you not to go inside the shifty-as-fuck building, don’t look at me with that stupid grin on your face and do it anyway. There’s a reason why I’m the time-traveler and not you.” 

You felt him stir slightly against you, his weight shifting just enough that you almost thought he was trying to stand straighter on his own. Then, barely above a whisper, you heard him say, “You’re terrible at it though.” 

The words were quiet, slurred, but unmistakably teasing. 

You let out a startled laugh, your chest tightening again at the sound of his voice. It was weak, shaky, but it was him. It was Remy. The snark, the humor, the way he couldn’t resist poking at you even when he was barely standing—it was all still there, buried beneath the pain and exhaustion. 

You nodded, your smile softening as you adjusted your grip on him, holding him a little closer. “Okay, yes,” you admitted, your voice light but warm. “I’m terrible at it. But it’s not my fault I don’t know how to control this.” 

He let out another faint sound that might have been a laugh, though it ended in a quiet groan as his body tensed against you. You winced, your hand tightening over his wound as you tried to steady him. 

“Easy,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a softer tone. “Just take it slow. We’ve got time.” 

You both knew that wasn’t true. Between the pressure that at any moment you could be pulled away from him, the blood pooling beneath your fingers and the faint tremble in his body told you otherwise, but you couldn’t think about that. Not now. Not when he was still fighting to stay with you. 

“I mean,” you went on, trying to keep the conversation going, to keep him focused on anything but the pain, “you have to admit, it’s pretty impressive. Most people don’t get to say they’ve accidentally landed in the multiverse’s dumpster fire and lived to tell the tale.” 

“Barely,” he muttered, his voice raspy and weak but still carrying that dry humor you loved so much. 

You grinned, the sound of his voice sending a wave of warmth through you despite the cold, oppressive air of the tunnel. “Hey, ‘barely’ still counts,” you said, nudging him gently with your shoulder. “And for the record, I’m not the one who got his ass handed to him by a little girl with claws. That was all you.” 

“Must’ave been keepin’ ya on ya toes,” he murmured, his voice fading slightly, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. 

You rolled your eyes, though your smile didn’t falter. “’Keeping you on your toes’,” you repeated, your tone dripping with mock indignation. “Right, that must have been it. I’ll let future you know next time. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’ve survived that long considering.” 

He let out another soft, breathy laugh, though it was cut short by a sharp intake of breath as his steps faltered. 

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, shifting your grip on him as you steadied him. “I’ve got you. Just lean on me, okay?” 

The tunnel stretched endlessly ahead, the flickering lights above casting jagged, uneven shadows on the blood-streaked walls. Each step you took echoed faintly, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence that hung in the air, broken only by the distant drip of water somewhere far behind you. The coppery stench of blood clung to your every breath, and the chill of the damp air seemed to seep into your bones, making every inch of this place feel like it was closing in around you. 

Remy’s weight against you was growing heavier with each slow, agonizing step. His arm slung over your shoulders felt more like dead weight now, his body sagging further into yours as though the strength to hold himself upright was slipping away. You tightened your grip on him, your arm locked around his waist, keeping him as steady as you could. 

“Almost there,” you murmured, though you weren’t entirely sure if you were saying it for him or yourself. The words were a lifeline, something to cling to as you pushed forward, “I’ve got you.”

His head tilted slightly toward you, his breath warm and shallow against your neck. You glanced at him, your heart clenching as you saw how pale he’d become, his skin ashen and slick with sweat. His crimson eyes flickered open just enough to meet yours, duller now, the light in them dimmed by pain and exhaustion. For a moment, the teasing smirk you’d grown so used to seeing on his face was gone, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. 

“Always,” he murmured, his voice faint but steady, though it cracked slightly on the word. 

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill again. “Good,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you forced a small, shaky smile onto your face. “Because no matter what, we’re getting out of here.” 

His fingers, weak and trembling, tightened over yours again where your hand pressed against his side. The pressure was barely there, but it was enough to send a surge of emotion through you—love, relief, and determination all tangled into one overwhelming feeling that almost made you stop in your tracks. 

You couldn’t stop, though. Not yet. 

The light in the tunnel grew brighter as you pushed forward, and you knew you were close now. The faint, stale breeze brushing against your face carried the promise of fresh air, of freedom, and it was enough to push you through the burning ache in your muscles and the sharp sting of your own exhaustion. 

But Remy was faltering. 

You felt it in the way his steps grew more uneven, his weight pressing harder into you with every shuffle forward. His breaths were coming faster now, shallow and labored, and his head dipped lower, his chin brushing against your shoulder. 

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice trembling as you adjusted your grip on him, pulling him closer. “Stay with me, Remy. We’re almost there. Just a little further, okay?” 

He didn’t respond, but his fingers twitched against yours, a faint, almost unconscious acknowledgment that he’d heard you. 

The exit was just ahead now, the tunnel opening up to the faint glow of the outside world. You could see it, the soft light spilling into the darkness like a beacon, and for a moment, relief surged through you, so sharp and overwhelming it nearly brought you to your knees. 

But then Remy’s legs buckled. 

“Remy!” you gasped, your knees nearly giving out as his full weight sagged against you. You tightened your grip on him, your arm straining as you struggled to keep him upright. His head lolled forward, his breath faint and shallow against your neck. 

“Come on,” you whispered urgently, your voice cracking as you shifted your footing, pulling him closer and readjusting his arm over your shoulders. “We’re almost there. Don’t do this to me now, Remy. You promised, and you always keep your promises remember?” 

The word hung in the air between you, a plea as much as it was a reminder. 

His body was trembling now, his breaths uneven and rasping, but somehow, you managed to take another step. And another. The light grew brighter with each agonizing movement, the oppressive darkness of the tunnel falling away as you finally reached the exit. 

The air hit you first—cool and sharp against your skin, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of the world outside. It was a far cry from the suffocating staleness of the tunnels, and you felt your chest loosen slightly, relief flooding through you. 

But Remy wasn’t moving. 

“Remy,” you said again, your voice trembling as you turned to look at him. His eyes were closed now, his head resting heavily against your shoulder, and for a terrifying moment, you thought he’d lost consciousness entirely. 

“Hey,” you said, louder this time, shaking him gently. “Come on, Remy. I carry the humour of this friendship; I can’t carry both our weight as well.”

His head shifted slightly against your shoulder, a faint groan slipping past his lips. The sound was fragile, barely there, but it was enough to make you let out a shaky breath of relief. He was still with you, still fighting, and that tiny flicker of life was all you needed to keep going. 

“That’s it,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady, though your own exhaustion was beginning to creep into your tone. You tightened your grip on him, adjusting his arm over your shoulders as you started moving again. Every step was slow and deliberate, your knees threatening to give out under his weight, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. “Just a little further, Remy,” you whispered. “Just a few more steps, and we’re out of here. I promise.” 

The tunnel stretched on endlessly, the faint light at the end growing brighter with every painful step. The flickering bulbs overhead cast long, jagged shadows along the blood-soaked walls, but you kept your eyes forward, focusing on the promise of fresh air and open space ahead. 

Finally, you stepped out into the light. The shift was almost overwhelming, the dull, suffocating darkness of the tunnel giving way to a brilliant, golden glow. The sun was low in the sky, its rays cutting through the haze of the city and reflecting off the glass of distant buildings. You squinted against the sudden brightness, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjusted. 

The air hit you next. Cool and sharp, it carried with it the faint, familiar scents of New York: exhaust, hot asphalt, the tang of the Hudson, and somewhere in the distance, the faint aroma of food carts. It was a far cry from the stale, metallic stench of the tunnels, and for a moment, you just stood there, holding Remy’s weight against you as you let the relief wash over you. 

You glanced around, taking in the narrow alley you’d stumbled into. The brick walls on either side were weathered and graffiti-covered, the pavement beneath your feet cracked and uneven. A few stray pieces of trash rustled in the breeze, and somewhere nearby, you could hear the distant hum of traffic and the faint, muffled chatter of people. 

“Okay,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him, as you shifted his weight slightly and adjusted your grip. “I know this place. I know this place real well.” 

The realization hit you all at once, the landmarks clicking into place like puzzle pieces snapping together. This wasn’t just any alley; this was New York City. The unmistakable skyline stretched above you, jagged and chaotic, its towering buildings cutting into the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. The sounds of the city hit you next, a cacophony of honking car horns, distant shouting, and the low rumble of subway trains beneath your feet. The air carried that unique blend of exhaust fumes, hot asphalt, and the faint aroma of street food wafting from somewhere you couldn’t see. It was overwhelming, familiar and alien all at once. 

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or collapse. Of all the places to stumble out of a hellish maze of tunnels, you’d somehow landed here. You didn’t know if it was luck, fate, or just another cruel twist in the universes sense of humor, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you knew this place—knew it well enough that you might just have a chance at saving him. 

You turned your head slightly, glancing down at Remy. He was still slumped heavily against you, his weight pulling on your shoulders like a dead weight. His breathing was shallow, uneven, but steady enough to keep the panic at bay—for now. His head lolled slightly to the side, his usually sharp, mischievous expression replaced by one of utter exhaustion. His face was pale, almost ghostly, his lips slightly parted as another faint groan escaped him. 

“Remy,” you murmured, your voice trembling as you adjusted your grip on him. “I need to put you down, okay? Just for a minute.”

You guided him toward the nearest brick wall, the rough, weathered surface cool against your hands. Slowly, carefully, you helped him slide down until he was sitting on the ground, his back resting against the wall. His head tilted back, his eyes staying closed, but his chest still rose and fell with each labored breath. That was something, at least. 

You crouched down in front of him, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for the makeshift bandage you’d pressed against his side. The jacket was soaked now, the dark fabric sticking to his skin, but when you peeled it back just enough to check the wound, you let out a small, shaky breath. 

“It’s slowing down a bit,” you said softly, though you weren’t entirely sure if you were trying to reassure him or yourself. “Maybe?” 

You pressed the jacket back against the wound, earning a sharp hiss from him as his body tensed involuntarily. 

“At least I know you’re not unconscious,” you said, your voice breaking into a weak attempt at humor. 

Remy let out a faint noise that might have been a groan or a curse, but his head remained tilted back, his eyes still closed. You brushed your fingers lightly across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that had gathered there, before sitting back on your heels and looking around the alley. 

The space was narrow, hemmed in by tall, graffiti-covered walls, with trash bags piled in one corner and a rusted fire escape ladder hanging overhead. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place you wanted to linger, but it was secluded enough for now. 

Your mind raced as you tried to think. You could take him to a hospital, and for a brief moment, the idea seemed like your best option. But then what? You had no ID, no explanation for who you were or how you’d gotten here. And what if someone recognized him? Remy wasn’t exactly low-profile in certain circles, and you couldn’t risk drawing the wrong kind of attention to him—not when he was like this. 

You looked back at him, your stomach twisting as you took in the blood staining his shirt, the pale, clammy sheen of his skin. He looked so fragile, so unlike the cocky, self-assured man you knew. 

“Oh, this is the worst idea I think I’ve ever had,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head as you resolved to do what needed to be done. You turned back to him, your voice soft but firm as you spoke. “I’m gonna be back in a minute, okay? I promise. I just need to figure out exactly where we are, and then we’re gonna move. I swear.” 

You didn’t want to leave him. The thought of walking away, even for a moment, made your chest tighten with fear so sharp it nearly froze you in place. It felt wrong—dangerous, even—to put space between you, as if the thin tether holding him to you, to this world, might snap the second you let go. There was a gnawing certainty in the back of your mind, a voice you couldn’t silence, whispering that if you left, there was a good chance you’ll never come back to him.   

But you didn’t have a choice. 

You needed help. And help wasn’t going to find you sitting in the middle of a blood-soaked alley with him bleeding heavily in your arms. Every second you wasted was another second closer to losing him for good. Even though your heart screamed at you to stay, to hold on, to keep him close, you knew you had to move. 

You crouched next to him, your knees threatening to give out beneath you as you gently guided his hand to the jacket pressed against his wound. “Hold this as tight as you can, okay?” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady. You were trying to sound strong for him, but the cracks in your resolve were showing. 

His fingers twitched weakly against the fabric, barely managing to grip it, but it was enough. It had to be enough. 

“You’re doing great,” you lied softly, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair back from his face. His head lolled slightly toward you, and you could see the effort it was taking for him to keep his eyes open. Crimson met yours for just a moment, and the flicker of trust in his gaze hit you like a punch to the chest. 

“I’ll be back,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you forced yourself to your feet. Your legs felt shaky, unsteady beneath you, but you couldn’t let yourself falter. Not now. “I promise.”

You took one last look at him, memorizing every detail of his face—the pale, sweat-slicked skin, the faint smirk that had long since faded, the blood staining your jacket. Then you turned and hurried to the end of the alley, your heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. 

The second you stepped out onto the street, the city hit you like a tidal wave. The chaos of it was overwhelming, jarring after the suffocating stillness of the tunnel. Cars rushed by, their horns blaring in frustration. People bustled along the sidewalks, their voices blending into a cacophony of sound that surrounded you on all sides. The smell of hot asphalt and exhaust lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of food carts and something metallic that you couldn’t shake. 

You froze for a moment, your head whipping around as you tried to orient yourself. The towering buildings above stretched endlessly into the sky, their glass and steel facades reflecting the last golden light of the setting sun. Everything felt too bright, too loud, like the city was mocking the quiet desperation clawing at your chest. 

You needed a plan. You needed a place to take him, somewhere safe where he could rest while you figured out what the hell to do next. But your mind was racing, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making it hard to concentrate. 

“Think, think,” you muttered under your breath, your hands trembling as you scanned the street. You were in New York—that much was clear—but you had no idea what year it was, no allies to fall back on, and no resources to speak of. The odds were stacked against you, but then again, when weren’t they? 

Your eyes landed on a neon sign flickering in the distance, its letters half-burned out but still legible enough to read: Hotel. It wasn’t much, and it sure as hell wasn’t ideal, but it would do. At least there, you could get him out of the open and buy yourself some time to think. 

Decision made, you turned and hurried back to the alley, your heart hammering in your chest. The sight of him slumped against the wall where you’d left him made your stomach churn, and for a moment, you were afraid he’d slipped away in the short time you’d been gone. But as you crouched beside him again, you caught the faint rise and fall of his chest, the shallow rasp of his breathing. 

“Alright, LeBeau,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to inject some lightness into it. “I have no idea what year this is, I have no allies, and no fucking clue what I’m doing. So, we’re gonna do what we do best and wing it, okay?” 

He didn’t respond, but you caught the smallest twitch of his lips, like maybe he was trying to smirk but didn’t have the strength. 

You reached down, looping his arm back over your shoulders and hauling him to his feet with a grunt of effort. “You owe me so hard for this,” you mumbled, your muscles straining as you steadied him. 

His weight sagged heavily against you, and for a moment, you thought your legs might give out. But then you adjusted your grip, wrapping an arm tightly around his waist and bracing yourself. 

“Alright,” you muttered, glancing down the alley toward the street. “Let’s get moving before someone decides to ask questions we can’t answer.” 

He let out a faint groan as you guided him forward, his feet dragging slightly against the ground. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way his body trembled against yours, the heat of his blood still seeping through the jacket pressed against his side. 

<><><><><> 

The motel owner barely looked up when you dragged Remy through the door. The bell above the entrance gave an obnoxious jingle, the sound cutting through the faint hum of a static-filled television behind the counter. The man sitting there didn’t bother to pause his game of cards on the desk, the cigarette dangling from his lips burning down to the filter. He glanced at you, his eyes flicking over Remy’s sagging form, the blood smearing across your clothes, and just raised a single eyebrow. He didn’t ask questions. 

You slapped a wad of crumpled bills on the counter, your hands trembling as you struggled to keep Remy upright. “One room,” you said sharply, not bothering to wait for a reply. 

The man sighed, plucked the cash from the counter like it was an inconvenience, and slid a key toward you across the sticky surface. “End of the hall, 12B,” he mumbled, his eyes already back on his cards. 

You didn’t thank him. You didn’t even look back. You just tightened your grip on Remy and hauled him toward the hallway, your boots scuffing against the stained carpet as you staggered under his weight. 

The room itself was exactly what you’d expected—small, dingy, and barely functional. The walls were painted a faded yellow, though most of the color had peeled away to reveal cracks and water stains underneath. A single flickering bulb hung from the ceiling, casting an uneven glow over the room. The bed was shoved into the corner, its mattress lumpy and covered in a thin, scratchy blanket that looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. A tiny kitchenette sat to the side, with mismatched cabinets and a rusted sink that dripped incessantly. 

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, revealing cracked tiles and a mirror so fogged and dirty you could barely see your reflection. The faint smell of mildew and cleaning chemicals clung to the air, mixing with the scent of blood that still lingered on your clothes. 

You guided Remy to the bed as gently as you could, easing him down onto the mattress. He let out a faint groan as his body sank into the lumpy surface, his head rolling to the side. His breathing was shallow, but it was steady—for now. 

You didn’t let yourself rest. The moment he was down, you moved. You started pulling open every cabinet, every drawer, every hidden compartment you could find. The kitchenette offered nothing but a chipped mug and a single spoon. The bedside table held an old phone book and a Bible with half its pages torn out. Even the bathroom was bare, the cabinet under the sink empty except for a few dead cockroaches. 

“Fuck,” you muttered, your voice echoing in the silence of the room. You slammed the last cabinet shut with more force than necessary, your chest heaving with exhaustion. 

Turning back to Remy, you felt your stomach twist. He was still so pale, his shirt soaked with blood that had started to dry at the edges. The makeshift bandage you’d pressed against the gash in his side was dark with it, though it wasn’t as soaked as before. The bleeding had slowed, but it hadn’t stopped. 

You walked over to him, your legs trembling beneath you. The cool air hit your sweat-dampened skin, but you hardly noticed. Your hands hovered over him for a moment, unsure what to do, before you leaned down to inspect the wound. The gash was still oozing blood, though it wasn’t as much. The sight of it made your stomach churn, but you forced yourself to look, to take in every detail. 

“I can’t fix this,” you admitted aloud, your voice cracking as the words left your mouth. “I don’t know how to fix this.” Your throat tightened as you sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, your head spinning with the weight of your helplessness. “But obviously I do,” you added bitterly, “because you’re alive in the future. I just—I don’t know how.” 

You glanced down at him, your chest aching as you took in the pain etched into his face. You had never felt as useless as you did in that moment, sitting there and watching someone you loved in so much pain, slowly bleeding out, and not knowing how to stop it. Every second felt like it stretched into eternity, the weight of your failure pressing down on you like a vice. 

You grabbed his hand, his fingers cold and limp against yours, and pressed it against your forehead. “What the fuck do I do?” you whispered, your voice trembling. Your eyes burned with unshed tears, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, drawing strength from the faint warmth of his skin. 

You kissed the palm of his hand, the gesture soft and desperate. “Stay with me,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “Please, Remy. Just stay with me.” 

Your mind raced, grasping at anything, anything that might help. You thought about the rare times you’d hung out with Hank in the medical bay back at the X-Mansion, watching him stitch up Remy’s wounds with meticulous care. You tried to remember the steps he’d taken, the way he’d cleaned and closed the gashes, the tools he’d used. But all you could remember was the faint smell of antiseptic and the sound of Hank’s calm, steady voice—both of which were a far cry from this grimy motel room. 

Your thoughts flickered to the parking lot. The ambulance you’d seen earlier, parked just outside the building, its lights dark but its presence unmistakable. God bless New York and its seedy motels, where no one asked questions, not even when an ambulance lingered in the lot longer than it should. 

“I think I have a half assed plan,” you whispered again, your hand tightening around his. “Just a little bit longer, okay? I’m about to go do something so morally wrong and illegal, and I need you to be alive so I can tell you all about it when you get better. Okay?” 

You didn’t wait for a response. With one last glance at him, you pushed yourself to your feet and headed for the door. 

The stairwell was dimly lit and smelled faintly of stale cigarettes, but you barely noticed as you hurried down the steps, your boots echoing against the concrete. You pushed the door open and stepped into the parking lot, the cool night air hitting your skin like a slap. 

The ambulance was still there, parked in the shadow of the building, its back doors facing the alley. You hesitated for only a second before making your way toward it, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I’m a bad person for this,” you muttered under your breath, your voice low and shaky as your fingers curled around the handle of the ambulance’s back door. The words felt half-prayer, half-confession, hanging in the cold night air as you glanced nervously over your shoulder. The parking lot was quiet, the faint hum of distant traffic the only sound breaking the stillness. No one was watching. No one cared. 

You swallowed hard and gave the handle a sharp pull. To your surprise—and overwhelming relief—it wasn’t locked. The door creaked open, revealing the cramped, sterile interior of the vehicle. 

The smell of antiseptic hit you first, sharp and medicinal, mingling with the faint tang of plastic. The inside was dimly lit by a single overhead bulb, casting a pale glow over the tightly packed cabinets and the stretcher bolted in the center. For a moment, you hesitated, your chest tightening with guilt. This wasn’t yours to take. But then you thought of Remy bleeding out on a filthy motel bed, and the hesitation vanished. 

You climbed inside, your movements sharp and frantic as you began ripping open cabinet doors and yanking out supplies. Your hands shook as you worked, adrenaline coursing through your veins and making it hard to focus. Gauze, medical tape, syringes, disinfectant, a small needle and thread in sterile packaging—it was all here, everything you needed and more. 

You shoved items into a plastic bag you found near the stretcher, your arms trembling under the weight of what you were doing—both the supplies and the sheer wrongness of it all. Every second felt like an eternity, the sound of your own breathing loud in your ears as you worked as quickly as you could. 

Satisfied you had enough—or at least, everything you could carry—you slipped out of the ambulance, the plastic bag clutched tightly in your trembling hands. The cool night air hit you again, sharp and biting, but you barely noticed as you hurried back toward the motel. 

Your heart thundered in your chest as you climbed the stairs two at a time, the plastic bag swinging with every step. By the time you reached your room, your breath was coming in short, ragged gasps, your muscles burning with exhaustion. You pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it firmly behind you before locking it for good measure. 

Remy was still on the bed where you’d left him, his body slumped against the mattress, his face pale and drawn. His breathing was shallow but steady, and you felt a flicker of relief at the sight of his chest rising and falling, even if it was faint. 

“Alright,” you said aloud, your voice shaking as you dumped the contents of the bag onto the small, rickety table beside the bed. Gauze and tape spilled out, followed by the needle and thread, antiseptic, and a handful of other supplies you weren’t entirely sure how to use. “I can do this. I can do this.” 

You knelt beside the bed and reached for Remy’s shirt, your hands trembling as you began to tear the fabric the rest of the way open. The blood-soaked material gave way easily, revealing the full extent of the damage underneath. Your stomach churned at the sight of the wounds—deep gashes along his side and abdomen, some shallow, others cutting dangerously close to muscle. 

“One’s bleeding more than the others,” you muttered to yourself, trying to sound calm even as your chest tightened with panic. “That’s... good. I guess.” It wasn’t good. None of this was good. But you had to keep moving. 

You grabbed a piece of gauze and pressed it firmly against the worst of the wounds to slow the bleeding, your other hand reaching for the antiseptic. When you poured it over the smaller gashes, Remy let out a sharp hiss of pain, his body tensing beneath your touch. 

“Don’t be a baby,” you mumbled, your voice shaking as you tried to sound steady. “You’re fine.” 

He groaned faintly, his head rolling to the side, but he didn’t fight you. 

You worked quickly, your hands moving on autopilot as you cleaned the smaller wounds first. The antiseptic stung your nose as you poured it liberally over the gashes, wiping away the blood with shaking hands. Every time you pressed the gauze against his skin, he flinched, his breath hitching faintly, but he didn’t say a word. 

By the time you finished cleaning the wounds, your hands were slick with blood and sweat, your heart pounding erratically in your chest. You reached for the needle and thread, pulling them from their sterile packaging with trembling fingers. 

“I’m regretting not taking you to the hospital,” you muttered, your voice cracking as you began threading the needle. The thin thread slipped through the eye on your second attempt, but your hands were shaking so badly it felt like it took an eternity. “I really am. What a clusterfuck this is going to be.” 

You knelt beside him again, your chest tightening as you stared down at the wound. It was deep, but not as bad as you’d feared. There didn’t seem to be any internal damage—not that you were an expert—but the bleeding had slowed enough to make you think you might be able to close it. 

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling as you pressed the needle to his skin. “Alright,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “Here goes nothing.” 

The first stitch was the hardest. The moment the needle pierced his skin, Remy jerked slightly, a low groan escaping his lips. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you waited for him to settle. When he didn’t move again, you forced yourself to keep going, pulling the thread through with slow, deliberate movements. 

It wasn’t perfect. The stitches were uneven, the thread pulling slightly too tight in some places and too loose in others. But as you worked, your hands steadied, the panic in your chest giving way to a grim determination. You focused on the rhythm of it—needle in, thread through, tie it off. Over and over again. 

By the time you finished, your hands were cramping, stiff and sticky with blood that had dried in uneven streaks across your fingers. Your knees ached from kneeling on the hard motel carpet, and your shoulders felt like they were being held together by sheer willpower. But the bleeding had stopped. The stitches, crude and uneven, held the wound together, the angry red flesh puckered around the thread. It looked far from perfect, but it was enough—for now. 

You sat back on your heels, your chest heaving as you stared down at your work. Your whole body felt like it had been wrung out, exhaustion hitting you like a tidal wave now that the adrenaline was beginning to ebb. 

“It should hold,” you said softly, the words barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. Your voice trembled with exhaustion, but there was a flicker of relief buried in it too. “It’s not great, but it should hold.” 

Your eyes drifted to Remy’s face. His skin was still pale, his jaw slack, and his hair clung to his forehead in damp, dark strands. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling in faint, uneven movements. But he was alive. That was the only thing that mattered. 

You reached out with a trembling hand, brushing a strand of hair back from his face. The motion was slow, deliberate, as if touching him too firmly might shatter him into pieces. Your fingers lingered for a moment, brushing against the sweat-slicked warmth of his skin, before you pulled back. 

Grabbing a larger piece of gauze, you pressed it carefully over the stitched wound, mindful not to put too much pressure on it. The sight of the thread disappearing beneath the fabric made your stomach twist, but you shoved the feeling aside as you taped the gauze down as securely as you could. The last thing you needed was for it to come loose. 

When you were satisfied, you let out a long, shaky breath and turned your attention to the mess around you. The small bedside table was littered with torn packaging, bloodied gauze, and empty antiseptic bottles. The floor wasn’t much better—discarded wrappers and used supplies scattered across the stained carpet like evidence of a desperate battle. 

You forced yourself to your feet, your knees protesting as you stood, and began gathering everything up. The plastic bag you’d stolen from the ambulance served as a makeshift trash bag, and you stuffed the waste into it with quick, jerky movements. The sight of blood-stained gauze made your stomach churn, but you didn’t let yourself stop. You worked mechanically, your mind caught in a fog of exhaustion as you cleaned up the evidence of what you’d just done. 

When the room was finally clear of the worst of the mess, you tied the bag shut and shoved it into the corner. You’d deal with it later. Right now, all you cared about was Remy. 

The room was eerily quiet now, the faint hum of the flickering ceiling light the only sound breaking the silence. You turned back to the bed and let out a long, slow breath as you slumped into the singular chair next to it. It was an old, rickety thing, its wood creaking under your weight as you sank into it. 

Your eyes stayed fixed on Remy as you leaned forward, your elbows resting on your knees and your chin in your hands. You weren’t going anywhere. As long as you were here, you were going to make sure he was okay. 

The exhaustion clawing at you was relentless, threatening to drag you under with every passing second. But you couldn’t—wouldn’t—close your eyes. Not yet. You needed to watch him, needed to see the faint rise and fall of his chest, needed the reassurance that he was still alive. 

Your gaze lingered on his face, memorizing every detail—the sharp angles of his jaw, the faint stubble shadowing his chin, the pale hue of his lips that you prayed would regain their usual color soon. His hand, still resting limply on the mattress, was smudged with dried blood, the cuts on his knuckles evidence of whatever fight had brought you both to this point. 

You leaned back slightly, your head hitting the edge of the chair, and let out a shaky sigh. The room felt impossibly small, the walls closing in as the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you. But you pushed it aside, burying it beneath the exhaustion and the adrenaline. 

“Hang in there, Remy,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. “You’ve been through worse, right?” 

The words felt hollow even as you said them, but they were something to hold onto, a lifeline in the storm of uncertainty swirling around you. 

Your eyes drifted to the small clock on the wall, its hands ticking forward with agonizing slowness. You didn’t know how much time had passed since you’d first stumbled into the motel room—minutes, hours, it all blurred together now. But you didn’t care. As long as his chest kept rising and falling, as long as you could hear the faint sound of his breathing, you’d sit here for as long as it took. 

You rested your chin in your hands again, your eyes never leaving him. The chair creaked softly beneath you as you shifted, the only sound breaking the heavy silence. 

For now, all you could do was wait until either he woke up or you were inevitably pulled away again.

[lemonfizzyy]

Someone was talking about codependent Robins and I have some words to say on the matter because I have a very specific headcanon on when and where they are codependent. It's two periods of time specifically, and surprise, surprise, all of them involve Dick. (I'm a Dick-centric writer, sue me.)

Also, there's a cut because this one is a doozy of a headcanon. I yap A LOT on this post. Make sure you have your reading glasses or something.

First instance is Tim and Dick, when Tim first becomes Robin. Dick is 20, and Tim is 13. It lasts for the half-year Tim was training before he became Robin. Here's how it starts.

Tim has some serious neglect issues and some linked self-esteem issues. Not to mention, his parent's distance has skewed his sense of boundaries since his only frame of reference for that is simply not contacting or communicating at all. So when he is in a situation where people want and do spend time with him outside what is required, he doesn't know when is too much time spent in constant contact.

Meanwhile, Dick is determined to never "fail" another brother again and he ensures that by doing what he did (with Bruce's guidance) when his parent's died: Over-prepare, over-prepare, over-prepare, even at his own detriment.

They both collide when Tim finally convinces Bruce to let him be Robin, and well... They're inseparable from the jump. Dick takes over training Tim on how to be Robin, takes to him meet a lot of JL members and Titans, personally works with Tim on his self-esteem issues, drops him off at school, checks on him frequently throughout the day, etc etc.

Dick is going above and beyond to remove any possible chance of this kid not having the best shot at life, and Tim is just crying with joy that his hero seems to love and care for him personally.

This relationship is a double-edged sword. Dick's obligation to Tim keeps him from further isolating himself from the Titans and Bats, preventing him from burning those bridges. Tim as well gets some vital confidence and the support system he's desperately been needing.

But their bond also eats at them both. The possibility of worrying or disappointing Dick becomes a constant source of stress for Tim, since he assumes that he needs to do something to keep Dick from leaving. Dick is constantly drained because he still hasn't processed Jason's death; He's just been keeping himself as busy as possible with pouring everything into this relationship.

When Tim is finally deemed ready to go out on patrol with Bruce, the codependent aspect finally starts to fade. Tim wants space from Dick so he can prove himself as a capable fighter on his own to Bruce. Plus Bruce starts to take over fatherly duties for Tim as he slowly recovers from the initial... everything that was Jason's death. Dick with some trouble backs off.

Tim joining Young Justice at 14 is what puts the nail in the coffin for that dynamic, as Tim gains a whole lot of independence and isn't even consistently staying in the Manor. Meanwhile, Dick himself is focusing more on Bludhaven.

Neither of them will realize this period of their lives was spent in a codependent relationship with each other until later. Tim will realize when he's 21, in the middle of telling Duke how he became Robin. Dick will realize at 27 while watching sMothered clips on youtube at 4 am.

They won't talk about it with each other until they're 23 and 30 respectively. Dick will apologize profusely, Tim will forgive him and further thank him for trying his best to be a good brother.

The second instance of codependent relationship between Robins is Dick and Damian. (Shocker!) This one only lasts for a month tops, at the tail end of their term as Batman and Robin.

Let me set the stage.

Damian has no friends, period. His only other significant relationship is with Alfred, and everyone else is someone he knows through Dick and mainly sees alongside Dick. Dick has friends, but he's been more or less distanced from them ever since taking on the Cowl, since Gotham is a full-time job. The only people he's consistently speaking to is Babs, Alfred, Steph and Damian.

Pairing this along with their newfound partners/brothers/father-and-son relationship, both of them at this point were each other's crutch. Dick's for the weight of the cowl, grief over his father and general deep-seated discontent with the lack of control he has over his life and responsibilities. Damian's for his complicated abandonment issues, perfectionism, crippling loneliness, and latent PTSD.

This is worsened by Damian's aforementioned abandonment issues and Dick's tendency to cope by wholly dedicating himself to another person. (Yeah, this is a side effect of becoming Robin right after his parents died...)

Because of this Dick and Damian gradually form a routine that revolves around each other, affording them both the maximum amount of time possible to be spent with each other.

Damian wakes Dick up each morning, Dick helps Damian get ready for school, Damian is picked up by Dick after school, the hours after are taken by either parallel play or some activity done together, then at night they go on patrol together, and tomorrow they do it all again.

In the short period they lived like this they manifest many strange habits and quirks. Both of them would get a significant spike in anxiety when being separated when they didn't expect it. Dick also developed the little habit of assuming that every plan made with another person could include Damian by default; Sometimes Dick was willfully ignorant of social norm just so Damian could come along. Damian gained the quirk of experiencing crippling social anxiety and extreme paranoia at the idea of being in an unfamiliar situation without Dick.

This was on track to become much worse, but then Bruce came back and things never got this bad again. During this period both of them did realize that something was vaguely unhealthy about their set-up, but in a way neither of them could verbalize.

Neither of them address it until a family movie night three years later, when Jason and Damian were lightheartedly bickering about who was the better Robin. To win the argument, Damian proudly states that him and his Batman once spent an entire week straight without leaving a 40 feet radius of each other.

The entire room goes silent, and Dick and Damian are confused why everyone is so flabbergasted. Everyone asks them a bunch of questions that they answer but every answer only seems to make everyone even more concerned.

There is no real conclusion to this reveal, but now the rest of the family knows that something was Weird about them back when they were Batman and Robin.

Anyway, that's it. I told you I had words.

[maid-fruitbat]

Sunbeam

Mizuki gets let out of her coffin and meets Yui for the very first time.

Cw: claustrophobia, medical terminology

Sequel to Terms and Conditions, which you can read here

This might be one of the sweeter things I’ve ever written hehehe,,

Incorrigible silence was an unwanted companion only undeath could bring.

On the first few days, she scratched the inside of the casket until she had to pull the splinters out from beneath her fingernails.

The casket’s size didn’t allow for much kicking or punching, so wailing and scratching like an enraged cat was the only appropriate course of action.

When the splinters got to be too much, Mizuki could only cry, wondering if Reiji would allow her to starve due to such a blunder.

He wouldn’t, would he? Would Reiji be the type of man to let a servant of the manor die in such obscurity? She thought long and hard on it, and instead chose not to dwell on the matter. She could dismiss Laito and his foolish shenanigans, how he lied to her when she wished to work for Karlheinz, and how he poured his heart out to her in a drunken, desperate stupor. She’d refuse him time and time again, and like clockwork, when she was self-sabotaging enough, she’d crawl onto him in the middle of the day to help warm her up again.

The unsanctioned trysts were just that.

Sometimes she’d lay there like the frozen corpse she was and get it over with, other times, the two fucked like two dogs trying to rip each other to shreds.

But at the end of all of them, he’d press his lips to her cool, cracked ones, and let in a wellspring of his half-demonic blood to sustain her. It would send her into a frenzy and he’d have to hold her down as she thrashed, but it was customary when fruit and whipped cream sandwiches from the konbini just didn’t cut it.

It was intimate. Sometimes she’d allow herself to bite his lip and lap the blood straight from the source, penetrating him as he penetrated her time and time again. It wasn’t love, it never was, but when you’re young and desperate, you take what you can get. And when it eventually leaves, that’s when you know you got all you deserved.

In this house, under their service, she could find no solace. So, naturally, she slept. The casket was at least insulated, silken finery pressed against every inch of her, her head making that funny slipping noise whenever she moved it against the silk pillowcase.

She was under the impression that the undead couldn’t have dreams, but in truth, Mizuki’s dreams only grew more vivid since that fateful night on the school’s dormitory roof.

As if nothing had changed, she dreamt she was back home, working with her parents and sister at the izakaya they owned, the humid air thick with the smell of gyoza and beer. She’d dream of the telltale signs of summer, monsoon warnings, cicada songs and salted watermelon. In time, she dreamt of the kind man her sister married, how her eyes would now crinkle at the edges while Mizuki’s stayed the same, how the faces of her niece and nephew went from round, squished baby dolls to adorable visages that mirrored their parents’. She always woke up crying after those dreams, nostalgia and longing turning into ash in her mouth.

Rudely interrupting her self-induced self-pity coma, she awakened to the sound of a key being slotted into a lock. Hope danced in her dead heart, but she willed every muscle in her body to contain herself. She could have sang and jumped for joy when Reiji opened the lid of the casket, his face a constant mask of detached, yet refined professionalism.

“Would you like to come out?”

He asked, to which Mizuki nodded a bit too quickly for her liking. This prompted him to open the other half of the casket, stepping back so she could get out. Every muscle in her body ached, her joints feeling as if they had been welded into place, rigor mortis having taken place after months of restricted mobility. Reiji’s face was contemplative, and he reached a hand to palpate Mizuki’s thin arm. Months ago, she would have raised an eyebrow, but she was exhausted, she felt like a newborn animal, everything much too loud and bright after being in the comforting, warm dark.

Then, without warning, he bent Mizuki’s elbow, the cartilage giving a ceremonious pop as he moved to her wrist. She gasped, naturally, not out of pain, but out of pure shock that her body could make such a sound. Still, she let Reiji give her body a full examination, making sure nothing was broken or too atrophied.

“You need to eat. Our supply is limited, so you will have to sustain yourself on the fruit you so enjoy. But do make haste,”

Said Reiji, straightening out her apron and fixing her hair in an odd way that reminded her of her mother.

“We have a new guest staying at the estate, see to it that her chambers stay clean, am I understood?”

“Yes, young master Reiji. Thank you.”

Mizuki would have liked a bath, but a small meal before returning to her neglected duties would have to suffice. On the kitchen counter, there was a plate of thinly-sliced mango, ripe, shiny and golden like beams of sunlight, untouched by the corpse princes. The presentation alone sent Mizuki into a tizzy. Not apologizing and offering sliced fruit as a peace offering? Maybe the reason she feared Reiji so much was because he reminded her of her mom. As she ate, she relished in the mango’s sweetness and reminisced on the firecracker that was her mother.

Feeling rejuvenated after moving around and eating, Mizuki took to the halls in search of this new guest. She knew what that meant. Yet another lamb to the slaughter, another sacrifice to be thrown to the wolves. She wondered how long this one would last, would it be a matter of days like the last one? Or would they play the long game? These thoughts only dissolved away when she saw the meek, blonde thing exit the room reserved for the brides, clad in casual clothing, cute yet modest.

“Oh, good evening!”

Mizuki’s eyes widened, something stirred inside her. Her voice was high, soft lips curved into a polite smile as she bowed sweetly. She was cute, adorable even. Mizuki had the stray thought that if she put this girl on her tongue, she’d melt like sugar. She could see the sincerity in her rose-colored eyes, and Mizuki quickly realized that her mouth went completely dry, and needed to respond.

“Good evening, my lady. Should you need anything, please let me know.”

The little bride seemed relieved at that, and gazed at Mizuki with what could only be described as hopeful yearning.

“Thank you.”

The two stayed quiet for a long time, awkward silence becoming a yawning chasm between them until the bride piped up,

“I like your hair clip!”

Mizuki’s hands raised up to the white rabbit hair beret she always wore in her hair, and for the first time in years, she smiled. The muscles in her cheeks cramped, but it felt good, like rubbing a sore muscle after a day of working out.

“Thank you, I like your outfit.”

This saccharine back and forth was a lost art to Mizuki.

Girl talk, as it was, wasn’t something the familiars really got into, they were always too engrossed in whatever they were doing to give compliments or crack jokes, but this girl, this sweet, innocent thing that was sent here to die by the church, went out of her way to be nice to her, and that was a debt Mizuki could never repay.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to tend to my duties, but if you need anything, call for me.”

Said Mizuki, flattening out her apron in a nervous habit.

“Wait, what’s your name?”

Mizuki made a brushing off motion with her now-relaxed wrist.

“You can just call me familiar. We have no need for names here, there are many others like me, so one of us is bound to hear you.”

Her voice was starting to grow quiet and raspy from disuse, but still, she bowed and excused herself.

In due time, she would learn that Laito had given the bride a nickname, little bitch which Mizuki thought was rich coming from him, but she cared not for the crass nicknames and double entendres he threw her way. Yui wasn’t supposed to die, Shu informed her of that, and the news made her suspicious, yet relieved. So, naturally, she tended to her duties of cleaning, tidying and organizing, balancing Laito’s whims with helping Yui in minute ways. Such as completing schoolwork she was otherwise too drained to do, cleaning up whatever mess she made in her clumsy stumbling around the estate, guiding her to her room when the night got too dark using the candelabras, holding a lit match in her mouth as she flitted through the air like a silent shadow.

So long as Yui was in the house, her service at the manor was slightly more tolerable.