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wandasaura · 7 months

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LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS

summary — as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, sensory overload, anxiety, mentions of child abuse (very brief and nondescript), dom/sub dynamics, patience testing, bratty!reader, punishment, teasing, mild humiliation, orgasm denial, spanking, praise, aftercare, entrance of the mommy kink, men/minors dni

authors note — the moment we’ve all been waiting for… or at least one of them ;), we finally got some wanda action, and a couple little domestic scenes because they’re the cutest wives

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The supermarket was beyond crowded for it being a Wednesday afternoon in early May. You supposed the air conditioned aisles were being used as an escape from the scalding temperatures of approaching summer that threatened to melt the inventory of every ice cream truck in the neighborhood, but to say you were overstimulated was putting it lightly.

You trailed after Wanda and Natasha with a frown on your face, making your disinterest known to both of the lawyers who were in desperate need of more produce and salad kits. You’d never understand why Natasha favored the plastic bags of lettuce over the perfectly green heads that Wanda grew in the back garden, but she’d thrown at least six prepackaged variations into the cart when you stopped at the stand. You were trailing down the cereal aisle now, and your attitude was getting on both of their nerves.

Wanda had been flat out ignoring your temper tantrum since the moment it started, but Natasha was not as keen to be dismissive as her wife. She’d been throwing out warnings since you’d first come through the automatic doors, but they had all fallen on deaf ears as you stayed persistent in your pout. Your arms were folded over your chest, your eyes slitted into daggers if anyone even attempted to look in your direction. You’d been near perfectly behaved for weeks, spare a few harsh comments thrown in Wanda’s direction, but they’d both been willing to overlook your harshness because aside from those, you’d been an angel. Whatever streak of good behavior you’d been running off of however, had seen its end, and both lawyers in front of you were shocked by the attitude you simmered in.

“If I have to ask you again to pick up your feet, I’m going to make you sit in the cart like a child.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, not willing to draw attention from the other shoppers in the aisle, but there was an unignorable warning in her tone. She’d asked you three times to stop dragging your feet across the floors, and each time you promptly dragged them harder. You were absolutely certain that smudges of black looped the grocery store floors and aided as a map to your current location, but you didn’t care. You’d been so good, so painfully good and pliant and willing to bend to even the slightest gust of wind, but not today. Not now. Not when it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Not when it was too loud and too crowded and you’d asked them both if you could just stay home. They hadn’t wanted that. They wanted to go together, told you that you were going together even after you protested, and you know it’s because they’d wanted to get you some of your favorite treats for the end of the semester coming up, but how could they blame you for being cranky when you’d warned them about not wanting to come along at all. You’d been here for what felt like hours, and if your phone wasn’t being held captive in Wanda’s pocket, you’re sure the digits on your lockscreen would support your accusation.

“Can we leave?!” You ignored Natasha’s warning, wiggled away from her when she got too close, and pressed yourself up against the shelves of cereal boxes. You wouldn’t fare well to the close contact she wanted to initiate, but she didn’t seem to get that, because the second you thought you had found peace in your little corner, she was right back in front of you with a glare only the worst criminals faced. She was not your loving and sweet dominant right now, you’d pushed her too far, and she didn’t take kindly to embarrassment. You’re pretty sure that the man three carts behind you had been gawking at your temperament since you came in, and while Wanda had sent him a glare, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that your little attitude didn’t concern him. Natasha grabbed at your wrists, pulling them away from your chest with a grip too strong to fight. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you wiggled immediately, but she wasn’t letting go. “Nat, let go.” You pleaded with her, desperately tried to get her to understand you needed space right now, but she was seething and subsequently blinded by your panic.

“Natalia.” Wanda called out for her wife, her careful eye watching your movements despite the seeming disinterest on her lips. Your eyes flickered over to Wanda, and while to Natasha it appeared that you were a deer in headlights anticipating a scolding, the Sokovian could see the wisps of actual panic in your stare. “Let go.”

Natasha listened, if only because a crowd had started to form toward the opposite end of the aisle and she wanted to move on before she became the cause of a traffic jam. Her hand left yours, and though it had been making your skin burn, you missed it instantly. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you refused to let her see that, and so instead of pleading that you leave only to be overlooked again, you just dropped your chin to your chest and followed along after them both with a drag in your step.

“This is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.” You practically jumped out of your skin when Wanda’s voice appeared closer than it had been all afternoon. If you had leaned any closer into her, your arm would have brushed her chest. You shuffled away from her, beyond the point of communication. You thought you’d made it pretty clear that you wanted to leave, anytime you acted out Natasha didn’t hesitate to drag you away, but she hadn’t this time. You knew that realistically it was because she needed supplies to make dinner, but after weeks of being good, you couldn’t deny that you had missed the feeling of her heavy hands on your skin in a way that was less than kind. You could ask for what you needed, but you would rather die a slow painful death then ask for what she called a ‘maintenance spanking’. “If you’re not going to communicate, then I don’t want the attitude. You are making a scene. Drop it, pick out some snacks, and try to be nice.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huffed, making the rash decision to shove her body away from yours with both of your outstretched palms. Wanda’s lips set into a firm line, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the action. You’ve been rude, snarky even, but you’ve never raised your hands to her, even if it was only to create some space between your bodies. You shuffled on your feet, immediately regretting the decision to force space rather than ask for it. You’d been riding her last nerve for days, your sarcastic comments just the slightest bit meaner than usual, but she had been willing to overlook them because she knew you were stressed with finals and outside of those one-off comments you’d been helpful and obedient. There was no way she’d ignore this, and you wanted to cry thinking about how at the end of the night it wouldn’t be Natasha’s hands on your body that you wanted so desperately, but hers. “I– sorry.” You apologized weakly, not even sure what it was that you were apologizing for. Was it because the look in her eyes was undeniably scary, or was it because you pushed her? You knew that it was a mixture of both, but you needed that look to go away before you could even form a coherent thought.

“In the cart.” She demanded, not leaving you any room to argue. You violently shook your head, knowing that being confined to such a small space would only make the panic in your belly worse. There were too many noises and stimulus, too many conflicting temperatures, being confined between four metal bumpers would certainly set you off and you were only just barely keeping yourself together now. “If you want to act like a child you’ll get treated like one. Natasha has asked you four times to stop dragging your feet, and frankly, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your hands to yourself anymore. You either sit in the cart, or you and I will go out to the car and you won’t be getting any of the treats you want. Which one is it going to be?”

“I want Nat.” You pleaded with her, suddenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even know where the other redhead had wandered off to, or when she’d started moving. She had been right in front of you, but now you couldn’t spot her and the thought of losing her in the supermarket spiked worry in your chest. “Where’s Nat?” You didn’t care about how frantic you appeared, didn’t care that you were ignoring Wanda’s question and definitely making things worse for yourself. You hated getting separated, you hated breaking off into pairs even if the three of you had set a meet up location if this were to happen.

Wanda, though annoyed with your behavior, sighed softly and dropped the threatening glare she’d been pointing at you. “Nat went to get some grapes and strawberries. You finished them this morning, remember?” You could only nod, remembering that you had in fact finished their fruit after refusing to eat the eggs that Wanda made for breakfast. It was too hot outside for anything warm to eat. They weren’t giving you a choice in tagging along, and although you couldn’t control where they dragged you, well you could if you had called your safeword and asked for space, but that wasn’t really what you wanted. You still had control over what you ate even if the supermarket was non negotiable, and you knew that the cold fruit would sit better in your stomach when it inevitably came time to leave.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you what’s wrong, Y/N. If you refuse to answer, I will be the one you deal with when we get home. This behavior is unacceptable.” Wanda remained firm, but there was concern in her voice that made you wonder if you would avoid punishment if you came clean. Deciding that you’d rather face humiliation than her heavy hand on your ass, you relented.

“There’s too many people.” You whispered, shamefully dropping your eyes to the floor, counting the specs of black and gold in the tiles beneath your feet. The design was ugly when isolated, but somehow it worked for the aesthetic of the store when you focused on the full picture. “It’s too loud. And tomorrow's my last final and I’m not sure how it’s going to go, and I have to sleep at my dorm tonight and I haven’t done that since Natty was away. And I just need space right now but I don’t want to be alone.”

The Maximoff residence had practically become your residence since the night you showed up in tears. You’d spent all of your nights in the soft guest bed, and most of your mornings in the dining room eating a homemade breakfast for the last six weeks. It was embarrassing to admit that you had gotten used to being there with them, that now that you had it, you didn’t want to trade it in for your stiff dorm room with a roommate you hadn’t spoken a word to since the first week of classes, even if it would only be for a handful of hours to sleep. You hated sleeping alone, even if you had slept alone in their house almost every night, spare the occasions Natasha fucked you into that fuzzy headspace she adores and they had let you crash in bed with them. Sleeping in your dorm was different, and lonely. And yeah, you had survived three years of dorm living prior to meeting them, but things were different now. You are different now.

Wanda’s face melted into softness at your admission, and suddenly you felt silly for keeping it to yourself for so long, but you’d unasked for self-criticism had convinced you that you were being needy and unreasonable and they wouldn’t understand where your head was at even if you tried to articulate. After almost a year with Natasha, you should’ve known that wasn’t true, shouldn’t have even entertained that thought, but after showing both her and Wanda that you could be good for longer than just a couple hours, you’d felt like raising any problems no matter their origin would only aggravate them. You didn’t want to lose what you had, even if it meant being uncomfortable in a grocery store.

“It is pretty overstimulating in here, isn’t it?” Wanda coos, her green eyes understanding and sympathetic. It’s a violent switch from how she’d been talking to you, but you thrive beneath her gentle validation of your feelings and find yourself nodding along. “Natty and I try our best to accommodate you, but we don’t know everything that can be overwhelming for you. We need you to tell us, so these things don’t happen. Shoving me didn’t make it any less crowded, and ignoring Nat didn’t make it any less loud. I know you were trying your best, but how could we have handled that better?” You should hate the way she’s speaking to you; like a child made of glass, but somehow it makes you feel better. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, there's no unspoken threat of consequences or stripped privileges, she’s just trying to get on the same page as you, trying to get you to understand where your mistakes had been so you can fix them in the future. You hate that you want more of this, whatever it is.

“Telling you.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to take away some of the blame that was becoming heavy guilt in your belly. “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Have we ever not listened to you?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and you feel properly schooled beneath the expression.

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” You tried to excuse yourself, but the lawyer was having none of your avoidance. You sighed, dropping your shoulders and focusing your attention on your cuticles, picking at the skin that had only recently begun to heal. “Nobody has ever taken me seriously before. My last girlfriend used to parade me around claiming exposure would ‘fix’ me. I didn’t think it would matter to you that I’m overstimulated.”

Wanda didn’t know much of anything about your past relationships. Whenever you talked about them, which was admittedly almost never, it was only ever Natasha who was around to witness realization crash over you like high tide. Your past romantic partners and the estranged relationship with your family had completely destroyed you, however these two successful lawyers that you found yourself entangled with were slowly putting the pieces of your broken heart back together, even if they didn’t realize just how much they were helping you.

“Do you want to leave?” Wanda didn’t dwell on your revelation, she didn’t pick it apart and hone in on all of the ways you knew that she could. She’s a lawyer, the very best one in the world, don’t tell Natasha you thought that; there were a million little things in your brief explanation that had set off alarm bells in her head, but she didn’t pry. You don’t know why you thought she would, but having the topic dropped before it was even picked up had soothed at least a fraction of your newfound worry.

The question startled you, having expected that to be the last thing she suggested, but it felt good to know that she was willing to order takeout for dinner if it meant getting you out of this situation. You wanted to leave, you desperately wanted to run to the exit at the first implication that you were allowed, but they needed groceries, and you wanted the chocolate ice cream sandwiches Natasha had promised. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head just in case she hadn’t heard you over the toddler screaming bloody murder in the juice aisle. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to sit in the cart while Nat and I finish shopping? I’ll give you back your phone and you can listen to your music until we’re done. It’s not a punishment, stop looking at me like that.” Wanda teased, and you giggled softly at her scrunched up nose and creased eyes. It was definitely a better suited look than her angry glare, and you couldn’t stop your finger from reaching out to poke her. “Did you just boop my nose?” She laughed, all of your bratty behavior forgotten about, at least for now anyways.

“It wanted to be booped. It told me.” You shrugged your shoulders, hyper aware of the fact that you’d voluntarily touched her and it hadn’t made your hand turn into flames. Your relationship was slowly on the mend, that much was undeniable, but physical touch was still something you shied away from at no fault of her own, but rather your own insecurities that needed to be worked through. “Are you gonna tell Natty I pushed you?”

“No.” Her honesty surprised you almost as much as her willingness to forgive your fatal misstep, but you nodded curtly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and Natty didn’t listen when I asked her to let go and I panicked.” You mumbled out the reason for your behavior, aware that it sounded like an excuse but there was no ounce of judgment or disbelief in Wanda’s eyes.

“I know.” She assured, and you deflated in relief. “You’re not going to do it again, if you do I will not be as forgiving, but I know you were feeling crowded, so I’m willing to let it go if you are.”

You nodded eagerly, and Wanda smiled. “Can we go find Nat now?”

As you expected, spending the night in your dorm was torturous. In the six weeks that you’d been away, you’d forgotten how your roommate snores and turns throughout the night, and her mattress was far noisier than yours had ever been. It hadn’t bothered you all that much at the start of the academic year, and maybe that had been because of your exhaustion with the adjustment and workload of seven classes instead of the typical four, or maybe you had just been able to get used to it, but now that you had discovered what true quiet sounds like when you sleep, there had not been a single ounce of rest achieved all night.

Your alarm went off at fifteen minutes to six, and you cursed whoever was cruel enough to schedule an exam for seven in the morning on a Thursday in May, but you shuffled out of bed anyway and dressed quickly in the few articles of clothing that still lingered in your dorm. Most of them had been brought to the Maximoff residence, but what hadn’t made it over because it was significantly useless with the presence of warmer weather, had been dropped off in the storage unit paid for by your mother. The woman was a flaky figure in your life at best, definitely no parent, but you appreciate her dedication to your education. She paid for your tuition, she assured you had the best meal plan and access to books and study materials, and when the seasons changed and you were let out on break, she made sure there was a safe and trustworthy place to store your belongings. She’d never once said she was proud of you, but when she asked for a report of your grades and didn’t immediately berate you, you knew that she was at least satisfied.

If you failed any of your finals, you knew there would be hell to pay. You already weren’t coming home for the summer like you usually did, and although your mother didn’t know the reason why, she was less than happy when you’d relayed the abrupt change in plans three weeks ago. She was a controlling narcissist, a woman that had brought you years of pain and suffering for her own pleasure, you knew what she was capable of the second she caught wind of academic failure, and you would not reward her the opportunity to berate you the way she did in high school when you received anything less than all A’s on your report card. It was stupid to allow a woman with no presence in your life to have so much control, but you needed to at least be perceived as a good daughter if she were going to keep paying your multi-thousand dollar bills.

The weather today was just as hot as yesterday, but there was a rise of humidity in the air that you could feel without even stepping outside. The sky looked thick and unpleasant, miraculously blue and clear, but still gross. As much as you wanted to hide away in your room and avoid the four hour exam that awaited you, it wasn’t in the cards, and so begrudgingly you laced up your shoes and grabbed your favorite pen. It was a simple pen, nothing truly special about it, but since the day you’d stolen it from Natasha’s desk, it had been used for every paper exam. The gold lettering across the black body, the name of her and Wanda’s company, was beginning to scratch and chip from the conditions you carried it through. And for being something so beloved, anyone would have thought that you’d treat it with respect, but you released copious amounts of anger and frustration on the ballpoint pen. Your teeth dug into it when you didn’t know an answer, your nails scraped at the paint when the words you had stored away in your memory felt impossible to grasp, and there were countless times that the entire pen sat dismantled and in pieces on your desk when you just needed something else to focus on for a few seconds. During one exam, you’d taken it apart mid-way through. The spring had bounced from between your fingertips and ended up halfway across the room. Your professor was a real bitch, and hadn’t let you retrieve the piece until every single person had already left and finished. You passed the exam, but not by much, and you blamed your grade on the fact that you had to finish it with a purple gel pen that was less than special. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Leaving your room behind, you walked to the classroom that you’d be sitting the exam in. It wasn’t a building you were familiar with, and so you packed an extra ten minutes into your schedule to avoid being late. Flowers had started to bloom in the bushes, and the grass was so much greener then it had been in the dead of winter, but there was no comfort to be sought in this environment. Your university was fine, albeit a bit bland, but Westview had become your home. You thought Wanda’s flowers smelled sweeter then the ones planted here, and the grass in their yard was the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how they have the time to take such tender care with their plants, but it made sense for them. They were busy women, women with a fast paced life and career, but there were still mundane rituals that clung to their routine. Before the contract, it had been almost impossible to imagine CEO and world-class lawyer Natasha Maximoff taking out the trash, but now you know she does it every Wednesday. It was also impossible to imagine Wanda Maximoff on her knees and covered in mud, there was never even a wrinkle in her business attire when she returned from the office after sixteen hour days, but now you’re privy to the fact that she doesn’t shy away from getting dirty when she tends to the weeds in her garden. It’s the simple things that make their company so much better then what you’ve found at Sword University, but no matter how much you wish you could be in Westview with them, no amount of heel clicking could take you there.

When you found the exam room, you noted that it was unpleasantly cold, and you cursed at your inability to have remembered to bring along a sweatshirt like Natasha had suggested. There was no consistency at school, some classrooms were blisteringly hot and you could work up a sweat in minutes just from sitting still, and some were so cold your fingers forgot how to function. It didn’t matter the season, or if you simply walked down the hallway, the temperature was never the same and it varied from room to room. You chose a desk near the windows. Not right next to them, knowing that it would get too hot if you were pressed right beside the uncovered sun, but close enough to still feel the lick of warmth as the golden beams of daylight nipped at your skin. It didn’t take much longer for your peers to start flooding in, and their presence brought another factor of warmth to the room, though it wasn’t much and some who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat near the windows shivered. You smiled at the familiar face of a student who had claimed the seat next to you. You didn’t have many friends, didn’t see the point in socializing when your focus needed to be academic, but you had grown fond of a few of the faces you saw every week.

“This your last exam?” Monica Rambeau asked you, leaning in closer to your desk so that you wouldn’t have to shout over the other students in the room. You had seen her around since your very first class in freshman year, and you quickly became reliant on each other for notes if one of you happened to be sick and needed to miss a lecture you shared. Your major was complex, not entirely science related but not entirely separate either. You wanted to focus more on security and technology, but for some reason your school demanded that all computer science majors take chemistry and physics. Monica was good at both, you were not. She had saved your ass with her color coded notes too many times to ever ignore her small-talk.

“Thankfully.” You laughed, tapping your pen against your desk anxiously. “I’m moving the rest of my shit out next week and then I’m spending the summer in Westview. What about you?”

The brunette shook her head, and you winced in sympathy. As grueling as it had been to have most of your exams scheduled in the same week, save for the three classes that had requested papers and projects from you, it was nice to be done so soon into the exam period. You knew that some other unfortunate students would be stuck here for at least another week. “I have two more tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Louisiana. You ready for this?”

“Not at all.” You laughed, though your jittery leg and fidgeting fingers easily gave away just how anxious you were. “Sitwell hasn’t made sense a day in his life, I doubt the exam will be any more coherent than his lectures.”

Monica laughed loudly at your acquisition, but she nodded eagerly in agreement. “Tell me about it. I’ve been going over your study sheet for the last two weeks and I think I just barely understand the content from chapter one.”

Your attention snapped to the door when it snapped open again, but unlike the last handful of times, it wasn’t a student that entered, it was your Professor Jasper Sitwell himself, and in his hands were thick bundles of paper that would determine the next year of your life. If you failed this exam, you could kiss your paid for tuition goodbye. You appreciated Monica’s attention to body language, because she seemed to get the hint that you were in no mood to continue your conversation now that Sitwell had arrived. She still offered you a smile though, a whispered ‘good luck’, before she turned straight in her desk and placed three colored pens down firmly. Leave it to Monica to remain dedicated to her color coding even at the end of the semester.

The time had flown by after that. You’d groaned when you saw that the estimated time of this exam would be four hours, but now you felt like that wasn’t nearly enough. The first six pages of questions had come easily to you, though it was still challenging and you doubted that most of your answers were entirely correct, but the last page had stumped you rather quickly and entirely. You jumped between questions, filling in pieces of information when they came to mind, but nothing could jog your memory when you were confronted with the very last question of the exam. Your brows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration clung to your skin. Was it a trick question? No, a professor wouldn’t purposefully stump you when so much was on the line. Despite your confidence in Sitwell, you’re absolutely certain that you’ve never gone over any materials that even slightly relate to the last topic. You’ve read the textbook forward and backwards, you practically dreamed about this course material, but you had never seen these words present in any of the lectures.

Your hand shot up from the desk before you could stop yourself, but by time you realized you were seeking attention from Sitwell, he had called you up to the front of the room. A glance at the clock on the wall beside the door told you there was just under twenty minutes left. By this point in an exam, most students would have been gone, but every single one of them still remained, and although you weren’t intentionally looking at anyone’s paper, the few that you had seen had all been open on the last page. You weren’t the only one confused.

“How can I help you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Sitwell kept his voice quiet, and like always, detached. You wondered how a man who seemed to hate every person even remotely younger than himself had found a profession in teaching, but you didn’t let his attitude deter you from asking anyway. This question could very easily make you seem like an idiot, but you were confident in yourself, and well, Jasper Sitwell seemed exactly the type to make a mistake like this.

Matching his quiet tone, assuring that only the first row of students could hear you, you laid your exam in front of him and pointed out the question. “This isn’t related to your course, sir. It’s not in the textbook, and we’ve never gone over it in a lecture.”

You waited for the moment he berated you for questioning his exam but it never came. When you grew the balls to look up at him, you found a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. “You’re correct. That question has no value in this course. It’s been on my exam for the last ten years and nobody has ever questioned me. Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, it seems somebody has finally read the textbook.”

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed your face, but Sitwell gave you no chance to speak again before he promptly took the exam from your hands and kept it at his side. Anxiety shot through your stomach when you realized that he wasn’t going to give it back to you. There was still thirteen minutes left on the clock, and you’d intended to spend every last second meticulously checking your work until he had to pry it from your fingertips when time ran out. So much could be wrong about your answers, you could’ve missed a question or twenty, and now you’d have no way of knowing because he wouldn’t give it back.

“Be on your way.” He nodded toward the door when you didn’t budge. There was no use arguing with him, he never listened anyways, but you couldn’t just walk away without checking over your paper one last time.

“Sir, I still have time to go over my answers.” You weakly protested, a single palm extended in the direction of your exam, hoping that for once he was willing to budge. No luck, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, and you took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge before he did something drastic like rip your exam in half. You would never be taking another class from him again, if you even got the chance to finish your degree.

With a sigh of defeat, you headed back to your desk, collected your lucky pen, and waved subtly in Monica’s direction before you headed to the door and broke away from anything and everything even remotely related to academics for the next three months.

Ever since childhood, you have adored the sight of the sun in the spring and summer months. Not in the middle of the day when it was blinding and heavy, but toward the approach of night when everything it’s surface could touch was brightened by ripples of violet and peach presence. Tonight had been the first expanse of light across the shoretown the Maximoff’s lived in, and though they’d both been home all day with a rare break from office obligations, their cars were warm to the touch when you passed by them in the driveway.

Despite the warm air and lingerance of sunshine off in the horizon, your disposition was reflective of the colder times when attitudes clashed and people let themselves fall inward. You’d been blind to the change in mood as a child. There was no bad time of year when you were seven and strangers stopped to compliment your velcro shoes as they passed, but now that adulthood had claimed what remained of your innocence, you’d been shown the true nature of winter and fall. The first time you realized that strangers were nicer in the summer, you’d been fifteen. Admittedly, that was a bit old to only just be realizing that life was cruel and people were snobs, but you’d always been an optimist; you still are an optimist. You vowed to never become someone so mean after that day, but that was yet another promise you had failed to keep for yourself.

Your face is set in a permanent scowl, which seems to be the new normal as Wanda and Natasha move about around you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at the movie that’s playing in the background. They’re attempting to get the house straightened up, something about hosting a barbeque over the weekend and not wanting to leave the mess to deal with at a later date. Had you been in a better mood, you would’ve offered to help, would’ve laughed and joked along with them, but the unknown of your last exam has firmly pushed you over the edge and now every minor inconvenience is working on your last available nerve.

Wanda laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear, the two of them somehow always finding a reason to gravitate toward one another despite the many different tasks that still needed to be accomplished. You didn’t think the house was as messy as Wanda claimed, but you hadn’t offered her that briefest sentence of reassurance. When you walked in, defeat heavy on your shoulders as you over analyzed the exchange between yourself and Professor Sitwell, you’d wanted nothing more than to fall into Natasha’s lap and let her distract you however she saw fit. She had, for a couple minutes at least, but then she’d pushed you out of her embrace and had started helping Wanda around the house. The Sokovian was practically on a mission to regain some order, dusting bookshelves and tables, collecting stray blankets that had made their way into the living room and across random furniture pieces. It hadn’t looked messy, just lived in, but that wasn’t good enough.

“Can you lift your feet for a second?” The taller of the pair looked at you expectantly, the neck of their expensive vacuum clutched between her ringed fingers. She hadn’t been the slightest bit deterred by your poor attitude when you came barreling into the house and hadn’t even offered her so much as a hello before you plopped down in Natasha’s lap and dug your face into her neck, and she had even let you put your feet up on her coffee table when eventually the Russian left your side start cleaning. She had been very patient with you, knowing how nervous you were about the exam and your results, but much like yours, her patience wasn’t unlimited. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.”

You huffed, readjusting yourself on the couch, though you still didn’t move your legs out of her way. Natasha watched the scene unfold with an uninterpretable expression in her eyes. She was aware of how you’d been testing Wanda more and more as the weeks went by, and she had warned you that it was only a matter of time before the woman snapped and dealt with your attitude by her own measures. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been enough to scare you into submission, but you had shrugged off her warning to stop pushing boundaries, entirely uninterested in the conversation she was trying to have.

Wanda sighed and let go of the vacuum, resting it against the couch to be grabbed again later. You’d expected her to move onto a different task, maybe even march her way upstairs until you changed your attitude, but when her hands grabbed at your ankles and harshly removed them from the coffee table, you gasped in shock and flinched away from her touch, a glare settled in her direction.

“Stop!” You whined, kicking your foot out in her direction as a weak attempt at retaliation, but you made no attempt to put them back on the coffee table. Instead, you extended them outward, taking up almost the entire length of the couch. Not that it mattered, neither one of them were planning on sitting down with you anytime soon. Wanda quirked an eyebrow down at you, an expression that you were getting seriously tired of, before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. “I was watching that!” You cried out in annoyance, reaching for the remote that was held away from your hands.

“Good girls get to watch movies.” She simply stated and handed the remote over to Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where it needed to go. The remote was promptly placed on one of the highest shelves in the room, and the fact that it had been done on purpose because she knew you wouldn’t be able to reach that high without a stool only angered you further.

“So what? You’re gonna ground me? I’m not a child.” You snapped at her, your voice tinged with what could only be described as pure venom. The snarky comments you’d been making for days seemed like child's play now, at least then you’d had the decency to show her some semblance of respect, but now, there wasn’t an ounce of anything kind in your tone.

“If you’re going to act like one, I’m going to treat you like one. I have been more than patient with you, even though you’re being nothing short of a brat. My willingness to ignore your little attitude will not last much longer, so I suggest you get over yourself before I have you over my lap.” Her words should’ve scared you, they should’ve worked as a last ditch effort to get you to behave, but if anything, it only spurred you on further. You were beyond the point of simply wanting some kind of punishment. Unlike in recent days when it had been a tickle at the back of your mind, now you desperately needed it. The end of the semester always felt like the biggest relief until it actually came, and you were left with no productive purpose to fulfill. You needed a push in the right direction, and now that you had been introduced to this dynamic, where Natasha was more than willing to make decisions for you and take care of you, you wanted to fall right into that state of comfort and control. Your mind wouldn’t let you stop thinking though, and no matter how hard you pleaded with yourself to just let her take the reins, control would not be so easily relinquished. It had been weeks since your last spanking. Days since the last time she had fucked you hard enough to cause you to slip into subspace. For months you’d been shown and taught about the beauty of this dynamic, and it was just suddenly beginning to fall away. You knew that you didn’t need to be naughty to receive a spanking, knew that if you asked she’d be more than happy to provide it, but you didn’t want to need her just to feel content. It was like a double-edged sword had rammed its way into your brain and every time you turned your head you fought between completely surrendering control and always maintaining it.

“If I’m a brat then you’re a bitch.” You met Wanda’s stare, there was no backing down now. You were so close to what you wanted, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care that it wasn’t Natasha you were seeking it from. Ever since that night curled up in her arms when the world felt like it was ending, something was undeniably different. You didn’t want to crave her but you did, and the longer she refused to play into your games, the more you wanted her. She was scary when she was mad, terrifying when she was livid, but somehow you had crossed both of those thresholds in only one sentence. There was something dark in her eyes that you’d never seen before, and it made your stomach twist into knots knowing that you were the sole reason she had lost her happy spark. She radiated dominance, expelled the radiant energy of someone who knew they had control, even if for the briefest second, you had been foolish enough to think you were the one with it. It wasn’t anger or frustration in her eyes, although they were both present, but rather dominance. You’d seen her be dominant, you’d been scolded by her many times, but it had always been concealed. She had always remained respectful of your boundaries and control to Natasha only, but you had pushed her too far. Things had changed too much. Neither of you were the women you had been at the start of this situation, and it was only a matter of time before the carpet rolled beneath your feet and you had to face the music.

“Get upstairs.” She demanded of you, and for the first time since showing up, you didn’t have the words to fight. You scrambled off the couch and practically flew toward the stairs, only to stop halfway up when you realized you didn’t know where she wanted you to go.

“Our bedroom, honey.” Natasha called after you, having watched the entire thing unfold. Now that you realized what position you had walked yourself into, there was anxiety flooding your desperate gaze as you pleaded with her to save you. Natasha wouldn’t save you this time though. She had warned you, told you that you wouldn’t like the trap you were walking yourself into, but you hadn’t listened. “I’ll be up to talk with you in a second, it’s okay.”

“Y/N, if you are not in that room in the next twenty seconds, I will not be so kind as to give you the choice about what I spank your ass with.” Wanda’s voice was level, it didn’t waver like you knew yours would if you even dared to try and speak. You nodded frantically, scrambling to get up the stairs and into their bedroom before the countdown in your head got down to zero.

You didn’t know what to do once you were inside, didn’t know if you should close the door or leave it open, didn’t know if you should sit on the bed or continue to stand beside it. You’d never been alone in their bedroom, it felt like an odd invasion of privacy now that you were. Your mind reeled with endless possibilities, though none of them pleasant. Wanda was going to spank you, she had practically promised that, but what else would she do? Would she make you terminate your contract with Natasha because you’d called her a bitch? Would she slap you around like your father had done when you’d ever dared to disrespect him so aggressively? Tears pricked your eyes at all of your unanswered questions, and you noted that this feeling in your belly was distinctly different then the times when Natasha pulled you over her lap. You’d gotten a handful of punishments before, of course you have because even though you like being good for her, it’s still fun to act out, but those punishments had always been light with the unspoken promise of sexual relief afterward. This was the first time you’d ever actually been punished outside of sexual interactions. This was the first time you’d ever pissed Wanda off enough to be the one who dealt the cards. So much was changing and you couldn’t keep up, but really there was nothing for you to keep up with. You didn’t know what would happen next, you had never been in this situation before.

The floorboards creaked beneath footsteps, and you noted that just beyond the window not covered by blinds, the sunshine had finally settled. Nothing was left to see beside darkened skies and the roofs of all of the other houses on the block, though even then the sight was void of any actual interest. The Maximoff residence was the largest on the block, and it towered over the houses that sat on both sides of it. You’d always thought that CEO’s lived in big lavish mansions, but Wanda and Natasha had chosen a perfectly normal town to settle down in. They had expensive cars, sure, but that wasn’t even a fraction of the money they had. They were total anomalies, and that fact was only making you grow more uneasy.

“Detka.” Natasha sighed, and you were thankful it was only her that had entered. Had Wanda been with her, you would’ve spiral face down into a panic attack that couldn’t be stopped. “I warned you, did I not?”

You sighed, knowing that there was no time for her to give you all the reassurances you needed. Wanda was being kind enough to let Natasha check in on you, but you doubted she had the patience to sit downstairs for hours as you pleaded with your dominant to give you answers even she didn’t have. “J-Just tell me what’s gonna happen. I need to know what’s going to happen.”

“She’s going to spank you, and then she’s going to hold you, and reassure you that you’re okay. No different from what I do. Are you okay with her spanking you? I know we’ve talked about it, but this isn’t the funishment you thought you’d be getting when we agreed to those conditions, huh?” Natasha collected you into her arms, being surprisingly gentle with you despite the fact that you had just called her wife a bitch. You shook your head against her chest, fisting her loose fitting t-shirt in your heads, fearing that she would pull away far too early for your liking.

“I wanted you to spank me.” You admitted sheepishly into her touch, sighing softly when her fingers tangled into your hair and gently worked out the knots that lingered near the ends. “I’ve been good and you’ve been… soft. And I just can’t get my brain to be quiet, and I wanted you to spank me so I kept trying to push your buttons and you just kept forgiving me.”

“Daddy’s been pretty lenient with you, hasn’t she?” Natasha cooed, not placing blame on your shoulders even though you knew she very easily could have. You nodded in response to her question, feeling better now that she was aware of the root cause of your attitude, even if that didn’t save you from Wanda’s wrath. “You’ve been breaking a lot of rules, rules that Wanda’s aware of.”

“She’s gonna give me ten for every one, isn’t she?” You winced, knowing that this would not be a pleasant experience and your ass was sure to hurt every time you sat down for at least the next week.

“She is, and it’s going to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, but she’s not going to push you farther than you can handle. What do you call if you need a break?” Natasha asked sweetly, pulling your face away from her chest and holding your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look up into her eyes and see that there's no lingering resentment or anger.

“Yellow.” You answered, the word engraved in your brain despite having never needed to call it. “Red if I need it to stop completely. But… we’re not playing.”

“Just because she’s not going to touch you after doesn’t mean that it’s okay for her to break you, detka. Is that what you thought was going to happen?” Natasha frowns, her lips turning deeper downward when you nodded as an answer.

“My dad… punished me with violence. He didn’t stop until he wanted to. You’ve only ever punished me sexually, not because I purposely broke the outside rules.” You whispered, another hint at your traumatic past hanging in the air. “I called her a bitch. I tried to kick her. I pushed her in the store yesterday.” You admitted, though when there was no reaction, you guessed that Wanda had already told her.

“Because you needed space. She is not going to punish you for that. She’s going to punish you because you were being disrespectful, and because you need it, huh? You need help getting that brain to shut off. You did so many big things this week, I bet it’s not that easy to just come back to this dynamic and allow us to take control when you’ve been the one in charge all week.” Natasha whispered knowingly, a glint in her eyes that reassured you of her understanding. “Finals are stressful. When Wanda and I were in college, we used to go at each other until we were red in the face and then we’d move on like nothing happened. We get it, milaya. We don’t expect you to be good at this yet, or to know how to ask for what you need. You can stop thinking the world is going to end because you made a mistake.”

“I meant to call her a bitch, but I didn’t actually mean it.” You admitted softly and Natasha chuckled, pulling you in closer and laying a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“We both know what you meant, malyshka. She’s not downstairs brewing in anger, even though I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. This dynamic is not about fear and power. I should’ve explained that better. You have all the power here, honey, but just like you can call red, so can she. It’s a balance, a team effort. You got it?”

“I got it.” You sighed, leaning into her touch, wishing you could just surrender to this moment for the rest of your life, but there was no way that was happening. As daunting as it was, you needed Wanda to punish you. You want to let go of the guilt, you want to relinquish control and just listen to what they ask of you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, but it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, even if I don’t exactly like you calling my wife a bitch.” She teased, her fingers leaving your cheeks to trail down toward your ribs where she knows your ticklish. You shrieked in response, wiggling away from her fingers just in time for Wanda to knock on the open bedroom door and announce her presence.

She was significantly calmer then she had been downstairs, and that faint lick of anger in her eyes had settled to dust, but she still captivated you and sought for your submission. Her eyes were green, you forced yourself to remember that fact. They weren’t overcome with blackness like all the other times you’ve awaited punishment, but thoughts of your childhood didn’t even come to mind as you let yourself be present in this moment. This was not your childhood. The second you needed this to stop, or you needed her to slow down, you had to say one simple word and it would. As much as this act was about you giving over control, you knew that the reality was you would never be fully powerless.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should even say anything at all, so you merely waved your hand in Wanda’s direction, not wanting to completely ignore her. She smiled softly at you, not softening her body language, but at least her face mirrored your greeting.

“Hi, malen’kaya.” She laughed softly, and you were relieved to find that Natasha had been being honest about Wanda not brewing in her anger, though you hadn’t really doubted her, just needed that validation for yourself. “You talk to Natty?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded your head, unaware of how your hand still tangled in the fabric of Natasha’s t-shirt gripped onto her harshly. It was an unconscious thing, but was quickly soothed by a kiss being placed into your hairline.

“I’m gonna be right here, ангел. If I think you need to call red and you’re not doing it yourself, I’m going to call it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She promised, and you felt better at the proposition that she’d be looking out for you as well.

“That was quite the show you put on downstairs.” Wanda mused, her face back to that blank slate of dominance that made your palms clammy. You stepped closer to Natasha, just barely managing to nod your head at her admission. “Come with me.”

“Go ahead, I’ll still be here.” Natasha sent you toward Wanda with a gentle shove, and when you looked back at her over your shoulder, she merely smiled in reassurance.

Wanda led you over to the walk-in closet You’d never been inside, but you’d seen Natasha disappear into it after a scene, usually when she was scrounging around to find a specific cooling lotion for your ass. Wanda didn’t make any efforts to invade your space, giving you time to accept your fate on your own accord. The space was large, and there were no shortage of dresses and suits hung up on the taller racks. You smiled softly at a purple suit in the corner, wondering which of the two women it belonged to.

“That’s Natasha’s.” Wanda hummed, seeming to follow your eye toward the suit. “That’s not why we're in here though.”

You nodded, pulling your eye away from the suit in favor of following whatever box Wanda was pointing out. It was large and black, one of the only objects in the closet that looked like it didn’t really belong. She walked over to it, getting down on her knees and motioning for you to do the same.

“I can either spank you with my hand, or with a paddle.” You swallowed thickly at your options, but nodded your head and looked down at the case that Wanda had pulled open. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at the sight of so many sex toys, but Wanda merely laughed at your flushed cheeks. “Natasha isn’t much a fan of being paddled. It stings and will burn for longer than a hand spanking does, but she has received plenty of both.” There’s a tinge of fond exasperation in Wanda’s words that make you think Natasha is better at asking for what she needs than you are, and that most of the spankings Wanda’s internally recounting aren’t all derived from punishment. You remember the conversation you had weeks ago, where Wanda had confirmed that Natasha was the submissive in their relationship.

“I don’t want that.” You whispered, shaking your head adamantly. “Never.”

“Okay. That’s perfectly okay. Not everyone likes instruments being used for a spanking. This is the lotion I’m going to put on you afterward. It’s the same one Natasha uses, but I want you to know what to expect.” Wanda gives you the bottle, and you don’t even bother to look down at it, entirely focused on her face. There’s something different about her like this, so easily dominant and captivating, you want to commit this new energy to memory. “You’re going to get fifty spanks. If you need to slow down, or if you need to stop, I expect that you call your safewords. If I need to stop, I’m going to call mine. Part of your punishment is that you will not be receiving an orgasm afterward. You're lucky I haven’t taken them away for the next week.”

You gulped, suddenly remembering that this was a punishment, although you didn’t know how you could have forgotten that fact. Wanda smirked in amusement at your flushed features, and tenderly she reached up to smoothing stray strands of hair away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly, and although it was Wanda not Natasha, you nodded eagerly. You didn’t hate her, you didn’t dislike her, you wanted her just as badly as you wanted Natasha. You didn’t know how you’d been so blind to that fact for so long. “Words, detka.”

“Yes.” You breathed out, already leaning into her touch when she set her hands on your cheeks and pulled your face into hers. Her lips were soft beneath yours, softer than Natasha’s, and she tasted like the fakest cherries. Her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance rather than demanding it. You didn’t hesitate to let her in, moaning softly into her mouth when her hot and heavy tongue licked against yours and officially claimed you the way you had seen it do to Natasha on a handful of occasions.

You don’t know how many minutes had passed as you sat on the floor of the walk-in closet, but when Wanda finally pulled away from you, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been before, your cheeks were flush for more than one reason.

“You can’t kiss me like that after you tell me I’m not allowed to cum tonight.” You whined softly, squirming on the floor as your arousal made its presence known between your legs. Wanda laughed in amusement, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

“I guess little girls need to learn how to behave if they want something from Mommy then.” The softest inch of her accent had drifted into the words, and if that wasn’t enough to send a rush of pleasure straight to your core, the added bonus of her title was. You whined desperately, your thighs rubbing together as you sought out even a second of relief. Flashes of Natasha teasing you on the phone came to mind, and the lust in your eyes only intensified. “Enough.” Wanda scolded, “I want you naked and bent over the bed in the next three minutes.”

You nodded obediently, having done enough arguing for the night. You got to your feet with the same grace as bambi, practically bolting out of the closet and into the bedroom. You giggled softly when you realized that your first kiss with the lawyer who was very proudly a lesbian had been in a closet of all places.

“There’s no way whatever happened in that closet deserves to be laughed about.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow in your direction, though it was significantly less scary then when Wanda did it. She watched you strip out of your clothes hurriedly, not sparing the few minutes you had been given to fold them nicely in a pile.

“Your wife is a lesbian.” You deadpanned, though you knew Natasha was very much aware of that fact if the felt pride flag in what you assumed was Wanda’s side of the closet had ever caught her attention.

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.”

“And she just kissed me in the closet.” You giggled, and Natasha couldn’t say that she wasn’t equally as amused as you were, but she had the decency to control her laughter in front of Wanda, who you hadn’t even realized was standing right behind you.

“If you don’t want me to add another ten onto your fifty, you’ll bend your ass over my bed and stop making me wait.” Your blood went cold and your spine straightened as you felt the softest trace of Wanda’s warm breath against the shell of your ear. The warning didn’t need to be whispered twice, because you were already scrambling to get into position, a lot less nervous then you had been before. “I want you to count them all. If you miss one, I add two more.”

“Okay.” You whispered, already fisting the comforter in your hands, waiting for the first strike to land against your uncovered ass. You didn’t even have it in your to be embarrassed about Wanda seeing you so exposed, just wanting to get this situation over with so that you could fall face first into Natasha’s chest.

“Is that how we address our dominants now?” Wanda practically growled, standing so closer to you that you could feel the heat of her body radiating onto yours.

“Yes, Mommy.” You fixed your mistake, your eyes pinched closed as you pushed your hips backward until they met her thighs, unconsciously seeking relief for your clit that was pulsing between your legs. You shrieked in surprise when she abruptly stepped away and laid the first hit onto your left cheek in only a matter of seconds. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wanda was well practiced in this domain. The spank was hard, significantly harder then Natasha had ever started out with, and you knew you were in for it with the promise of forty-nine more to come. “One, Mommy.”

Your grip on the comforter got tighter and tighter with each spank that came next until your knuckles were white and your chin trembled from the onslaught of pain. At the thirteenth spank, you moaned in pleasure, and your hips bucked backward desperately searching for pressure between your thighs that never came and wouldn’t come. Wanda’s laughter was anything but genuine behind you, and you didn’t even want to imagine what you must look like to her; bent over the bed she shares with her wife, your ass pink from the assault of her palm, and arousal dampening the insides of your thighs.

“So much for not having a pain kink.” She mused, though she wasn’t really talking to you. Natasha was sitting at the head of the bed with a smug gleam in her eyes, and you knew the sight of you like this was turning her on, if the dilation in her pupils was any indication of that fact. “Little slut is dripping.” You gasped when soft fingers ran over your ass, dipping lower and lower until they found your empty entrance that begged for anything to fill it, be it a dildo or the fingers of the woman who was responsible for pushing you into this state. “Do you like when Mommy hits you?”

“Yes.” You whine, not even attempting to keep your hips still as Wanda collects your arousal on the tips of her fingers, but like promised, never reaches your clit. You cried out your protests when her fingers left your core, only for you to gasp in shock when she leaned forward on the bed and fed them expectantly to Natasha who let her mouth fall open in acceptance.

The redhead moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, lapping at Wanda’s fingers until they were clean of your excitement. A needy moan left your lips seeing the blissful expression on the face of your dominant, and desperately you reached out for her hand that laid next to yours overtop of the white blankets on the bed. She let you grasp it, let you squeeze it and pull at it, but she never leaned in any closer to you. This was a punishment, you would not be rewarded midway through.

Wanda’s additional weight caused the bed to dip, and you had to readjust your stance to keep from slipping onto the floor. She wasn’t behind you anymore, rather perched on the bed beside your body, leaning in close to her wife whose lips shone in the dim lighting of the room with traces of your arousal. Wanda kissed her deeply, the wet sounds their moving mouths made taunting you further, and you groaned in response to their teasing. The lawyer who hadn’t even gotten halfway through your punishment moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, only pulling away from Natasha when she needed a break for air.

She was back behind the second she was breathing normally, and the fourteenth spank came in the same place her thirteenth one had. You counted out the spanks as they came, but other than the contact her palm made with your ass, you were properly ignored. If Wanda made a comment, it was directed to Natasha, and the one time you had been bold enough to answer for yourself, you had been met with a spank to the back of your thigh that was admittedly very soft and careful.

It was after twenty that you no longer found pleasure in her hits, and your moans and whines had turned to cries and sobs. Natasha held your hand firmly, her thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you took your punishment well. Wanda was proud of you, even if she hadn’t told you that yet.

“F-forty!” You sobbed out, arching away from the lawyer's hand only seconds after it came down on your ass. Your entire body ached from the position you were half-stood in, your cunt pulsed with need, but your ass was on fire and you had no doubt that it would be bruised by sunrise tomorrow. “Please.” You cried out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good for me, milaya.” Wanda soothed you quickly and effectively, her tone soft and gentle as she let you have your feelings. The heavy hand that had been assaulting your skin for the last twenty minutes if the clock on her bedside table was accurate was suddenly soft as she rubbed soft circles on your ass, soothing the sting into a more bearable ache. “Ten more and then we can cuddle. Why don’t you let Natty’s hand go and she’ll go get you some water.”

“N-No! No! Natty stay!” You held onto her desperately, like even the suggestion of her leaving would make it come true.

“I’m staying, malyshka. I’m staying.” Natasha assured you, scooting closer to your trembling body so she could lay a hand on your naked back, her firm touch grounding you in this moment where both of your dominants were with you. “You’re okay. You’re being so good. Such a good girl. Ten more baby, think you can do that?”

You nodded albeit weakly, and Wanda took that as her sign to keep going, to get this over with so that she could put her efforts into comforting you. It was on the last spank that you had crumbled completely, going limp against the bed as you sobbed in relief. You made the decision that you never wanted to piss Wanda off to this extent again.

“Good girl. You were so good. Took your spanking so well.” Wanda helped you stand up, spinning you around so that her eyes could meet yours for the first time in half an hour.

“Mommy.” You sobbed, falling face first into her chest, clutching the fabric of her shirt in your trembling fists. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeated it like a mantra, sobs and sniffles the only other audible sound that you could hear. You didn’t recognize Wanda praising you for taking your punishment so well, you didn’t hear her whisper of a promise that it was over and you were forgiven. You hadn’t even realized that Natasha had promptly left the bedroom and gone down to the kitchen to retrieve water and a snack if you wanted it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at Mommy.” Wanda coaxed your attention up at her, pulling your face out of the pit of darkness you had found against her chest. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

You nodded weakly, letting Wanda guide you into the middle of the bed and onto your belly. As promised, she rubbed the cooling lotion into your skin, mumbling soft praises beneath her breath whenever you flinched away from the contact. The soft cooling effect hadn’t taken long to set in, and when it did, it was like an immediate sense of relief had washed over your senses, though everything was still foggy and far away. You only barely recognized Natasha sitting down beside you, but you whined in protest when she tried to pull you into her side, reaching out to Wanda with a pleading look in your eyes that neither one of them could ignore.

It hurt to sit, that was putting it lightly, but you forced yourself up into a sitting position so that you could accept the bottle of water Natasha offered. She held it up to your lips as you gulped it down quickly, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away, worried that you’d upset your stomach if you drank it all so quickly. Wanda had laid down beside you, forcing you onto her chest to alleviate the discomfort in your bottom. With your head on her chest, your legs between hers, your eyes searched for Natasha as she moved around the room, collecting pajamas and a wet washcloth that would be used to clean up the unfixed mess between your legs.

The first pass of the warm fabric between your legs had rubbed against your clit accidentally, and you moaned in pleasure that was quickly taken away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not tonight.” She shushed your cries softly, though it didn’t make you any happier. You wiggled against Wanda at the uncomfortable feeling you weren’t used to being left with, and she didn’t try to stop you from rubbing your legs together.

“Tomorrow.” She whispered against your temple when you grew frustrated at not being able to fully satisfy the ache. “The more you move the worse it’s going to get. Mommy will take care of you tomorrow, just rest for right now. Close your eyes, detka.”

When Wanda’s finger attempted to wipe the fallen tears off your cheeks, you were quick to capture the finger between your teeth, and she didn’t even stop you. She smiled down at your flushed face, feeling more than content with your current clinginess. She knew you were down pretty far in that floaty headspace Natasha managed to ease you into every so often, and pride swelled in her chest knowing you were comfortable enough to allow her the privilege of not only seeing you this way, but making you this way.

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t leave your side tomorrow.” Natasha had hummed softly once she was sure you were asleep, only half dressed in the pajamas she had pulled out of the dresser for you. The shorts on your legs were a pair of hers, but you had been adamant against her putting the t-shirt on your body when you realized it entailed pulling away from Wanda’s chest.

Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was a fond smile on her lips that gave away her true feelings about this shift in your dynamic. Not perfect, but getting there. “I’m not making a deal, I know I’ll lose, Romanoff.”

“It’s Maximoff. Or did you forget?” Natasha quirked an auburn eyebrow, mirroring the expression Wanda had mastered after years of practice. She leaned over your body, careful not to jostle you too much and rouse you from slumber, and she kissed her wide softly, though the taste of your arousal still clung to her taste buds, and when Wanda realized, she shoved her away.

“If you keep kissing me when you taste like her I’ll never be taken seriously again.” The Sokovian warned, already addicted to the taste of your arousal, though she took punishment seriously, and it wouldn't be until the early afternoon settled overtop of Westview tomorrow when you found out just how good she is with her tongue.

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spencerreiddddd · 3 months

Text

Cabin Trouble

Content: slight angst, happy ending, cheating? Emotionally?

Gist: When the BAU team decides to plan a weekend trip you agree, until you realize everyone is taking their significant other. You on the other hand are the only single person on this trip, and in love with your best friend Spencer. What happens when Maeve attends and you have to pack away your feelings?

You wanted to kill yourself, how did you even get into this situation in the first place?

The team had always talked about asking for a weekend off and having a vacation all together and now it had finally happened. However you now sat in the back seat of Spencer’s car as he drove and Maeve sat shotgun. How did you end up in this position?

Well Hotch ended up making this a team plus your family trip in order to bring Hailey which in turn Rossi brought Krystall, JJ brought Will, Morgan brought Savannah, Spencer brought Maeve, your beloved Penelope brought Kevin. However unfortunately for you the only other single person on your team which is Emily had to go to Paris for a family emergency.

Leaving you distastefully the only person without a partner, and sitting in Spencer’s car as y’all drove 6 hours to a cabin everyone had rented out to spend a weekend away from civilization.

“Did you get much sleep?” Spencer asked breaking you out of your thoughts. You head snapped up to see Spencer looking at you through the rear view mirror. “I didn’t sleep much since you told me you’d pick me up at 3am” you responded yawning a little.

Spencer chuckled at you as he turned his attention back to the road, causing you to smile then feel extremely guilty. You had known and been best friends with Spencer since everyone started at the BAU, you had been friends for so long you eventually grew to love him. However you were a coward and never did anything about your feelings always pushing them down and your excuse was always “not wanting to ruin a perfectly amazing friendship” however when Spencer started seeing Maeve you pushed your feelings down further. The realization the Spencer didn’t see you the same way was the push you needed to lock them away in a box and encourage Spencer to go after Maeve.

Once they got together you distanced yourself from him little by little to be respectful to Maeve and him. You hated the idea of being “the girl best friend” but most of all you didn’t want to hurt yourself further.

You were originally going to drive your car but Spencer had been noticing your distancing and was always looking for ways to have your attention and favor thats why he practically forced you to let him drive you to the cabin. Something Maeve clearly didn’t like, well she really didn’t like you in general.

“Spence I gotta use the bathroom, do you think we can stop at a gas station?” Maeve’s voice sounded out through the car as she placed her hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

“Yeah of course.” He said as he searched up the nearest gas station on google maps.

When Spencer pulled into the gas station Maeve was the first one out as she practically ran to the bathroom, causing you to giggle and her cute run. You knew Maeve was pretty and you were happy Spencer found someone attractive to be with.

“She’s cute.” You said halfheartedly looking at Spencer as you stood outside with him as he pumped gas. He turned his attention toward Maeve’s running figure and back to you with a look in his eyes that you didn’t understand. “She is.” He said in a weird tone causing you to raise an eyebrow, but you stayed quiet.

You had been talking with Spencer as he had finished pumping gas and you realized how much you had missed talking to him like this 24/7 and listening to every thought that came into his head because he had no filter. So much so you didn’t realize Maeve came back and was holding a bag full of sweets. “I’m back and brought sweets.” She said linking her arms around Spencer’s and lifting the bag up in the air.

“Oh what did you get?” Spencer asked trying to look into the bag, you giggled remembering the sweet tooth Spencer had. “You shouldn’t have brought this much candy Mr. Hollywoods gonna have a sugar crash.” You said jokingly causing Spencer to laugh and try to defend his sweet addictions.

“Mr. Hollywood?” Was all Maeve said and she looked at you and Spencer confused.

“Oh it’s a nickname Y/N gave me after one of our beginning cases at the BAU, I had to protect this actor Lila, and it’s a long story.” Was all Spencer said as he opened the door for you to get in the car and then walked around to open Maeve’s so she could also get in.

“Oh okay.” Was all Maeve said as she opened the bag and handed you a Swedish fish candy bag. “I didn’t know what candy you liked so I got you this.” Maeve said flashing you a awkward smile. “Thank you so much.” You said feeling grateful she at least thought about you even when she didn’t need to bring you anything.

“Oh Y/N doesn’t like Swedish fish, she’ll throw up if she eats them.” Spencer said turning his body to take away the candy from you and in turn hand you his which was Sour patch kids…. Your favorite.

“Oh no Spence it’s alright, she didn’t know and I can eat them there’s no problem.” You hurriedly said feeling embarrassed for Maeve, as you tried to grab the candy back from him.

“It’s fine just have mine.” Spencer said gently pushing your hand back. You stayed quiet the air thickening in the car, but it seemed as if Spencer was the only one immune to it as he drove out the gas station as you had three hours left on the road.

It was 6am and the glare Maeve threw at you made you uncomfortable so you decided to sleep the remainder of the drive to avoid anymore awkward situations.

And sleep you did, you were woken up by Morgan violently shaking you. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,Y/N.” He repeated like a toddler trying to wake their parents up in the morning. “Morgan I swear if you shake me one more time I’ll pour acid on your head and you’ll be bald forever.” You said snapping your head at him annoyed. “The princess has awoken.” Is all he said as he laughed at your threat, Savannah shoved him away and came up to you.

“Ignore this bald man he has no manners.” Savannah said as you unbuckled yourself and hopped out the car grabbing your luggage.

“I don’t know how you survive, I would be behind bars for his murder already.” You say smiling at Savannah and pulling her into a tight hug. “Trust me girl it’s hard.” She says as you both bring your luggage’s into the front of the two story cabin.

“You know I can hear you both bad mouthing me.” Was all Derek said as he placed his hands on his waist causing you and Sav to laugh.

Hotch was the last to arrive and the one with the key, it was around 3pm and everyone was sitting on the cabin porch talking.

“Finally your here!” Penelope said as Hotch walked up the steps to the porch and carried his and Hailey’s luggage.

“I apologize we ended up having to bring Jack along because he didn’t want to stay at his aunts, I hope you guys don’t mind.” He said as jack approached with Hailey.

“Absolutely not!” You were the first to say as you got up and practically ran up to Jack and picked him up in your arms as he laughed. You had known jack since hailey was pregnant and you had babysat him more times than you could count when Hotch and Hailey wanted a night out or in…. If you know what I mean.

“Y/N I missed you!” Jack said hugging your neck.

“I missed you more buddy!” You said closing your eyes as you swayed him around missing the way Spencer’s eyes were on you the entire interaction with Jack and the way he smiled.

“You won’t be the only single one here now.” Hailey said coming up to you and giggling as she placed a kiss on your cheek. “Don’t remind me.” You groaned and walked into the house as Hotch unlocked the door.

“There was a miscommunication with the AirB&B person and instead of 6 rooms there’s 5.” Hotch said looking at you.

Everyone’s eyes looking at you too now. “How wonderful.” You said sarcastically placing Jack back down on the floor. “ I can take the couch, it’s fine.” You said turning your attention to the wooden couches with pillow tied cushions. Great you were gonna have back problems and sleepless nights this weekend.

“Actually, there’s a pullout couch in Spencer’s and Maeve’s room if you’d like to use that one.” Hotch added causing Maeve’s head to snap up to look at you a look of disgust and horror flashed across her face. You didn’t blame her, all of the sudden the couch seemed way more comfortable than before. But before you could deny the offer Spencer grabbed your luggage and headed upstairs “That’s perfect that way you won’t have to stay downstairs all by yourself and on that uncomfortable couch.” He said as he reached the top of the stairs, everyone nodded and began walking upstairs to their assigned rooms as well.

Meave flashed you a glare as she walked upstairs to find Spencer, making you cringe. You absolutely hated the idea of how these next three nights were going to go.

So this was an idea that popped into my mind while I was day dreaming (as one does) but it turned into a longer story as I began writing. So I’m going to have to do a part two! Lemme know if y’all like it.😁

#spencer reid x reader #oneshot #criminal minds imagine #spence reid #spencer reid #angst #derek morgan #spencer #penelope garcia #jenifer jareau #aaron hotchner #maeve #happy ending #little bit of angst #cabin #lust

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evilminji · 1 year

Text

You know what? I just had A Thought(tm)~☆

Danny. Our bby boy. MINDING HIS BUSINESS. Maybe visiting one of his buddies in the Realms after he graduates. When he just?? Get full on tackled from the sky.

And like?

Huh.

THIS hasn't happened in a bit. Not since he's become king. Legit, no one dares. He's honestly kinda missed it. Alright, square up... Mr. Uuuuuh.... Who are you?

And it's this barely formed New Ghost. Still in that glitch-y goopy blob phase and everything. Is Baby. Why... why does this infant Want To Fight God? I mean. He Respects It(tm), no lie, but? Not exactly usual for him?

And it turns out? This dude is some rando hero. He basicly JUST died. By all rights SHOULD be resting and gathering his strength to Form Right. But he's so worried for his team mates and everyone else he CAN'T. Recognized a fellow Hero's Costume even at a distance.

Please. PLEASE! You have to help him! We have to WARN everybody!

And Danny is just? Oh no. This Actual Infant Baby is gonna Anxiety himself to Actual Second Death at this rate. Yes! Sure! Just CALM DOWN! Anything you need buddy! BREATHE.

And this dude? Who died? Is legit a minor player who got WAY too deep but refused to abandoned People In Need(tm). It happens. It HURTS. But he saved a LOT of lives before he went down. Him and his team were just some Minor Heros from Belarus. How they ended up in deep space? Even THEY couldn't tell you.

They couldn't even bring him home.

He forgives them.

He could NEVER blame his friends. Not for this. The planet is in danger. Some... some THING. An invasion. The League has to be made aware. He DIED helping a planet try to evacuate all that they could. He... at least he...

He can't remember if the Eggs got out. They... they're like babies. A whole room full of toddlers who couldn't run. They had to de-connect from the main building to lift it out. He can't... can't...

He saved them... right? Held on.. long enough? Why can't he.. he...

Danny has to make him focus be for the kid spirals. Don't think of your last moments. Purpose. You NEED to do something right now, right?

Right! The League! We gotta warn them! And... okay. Danny can totally do that. (What LEAGUE??!) He DEFINITELY knows who you are talking about and will tell them Right Away. YOU however are gonna rest up.

So he leaves the kiddo with Lunch Lady. Mother and Frightening Matriarch Extraordinaire. Lunch Box promises to SIT on him if he tries to sneak off. Good kid. Now eat your soup before you BECOME soup.

Time to bully the eyeballs. Whoms't the F*ck is this "league"? And where does he find it? Talk. He has sand and he's not afraid to use it. Don't MAKE him get out the pepper grinder! Yeah. That's what he THOUGHT.

After much, prolonged and unnecessary, whining and dramatic threatening... he gets a printed out map. Cheapskates even used flimsy paper. He gets there. Jaunt is even kinda nice. He says hi to a few folks he hasn't seen in a while.

Opens a portal.

Steps out.

Gets punched in the face. RUDE! He punches the flying blue man back. Dents their wall. Not even a LITTLE sorry about that now! See if HE does you a favor aga-... is that his Ex? John?

John! Constantine you B@STARD. YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS. *Ten different hands slap a twenty on the table at his feet, including Constantine. Who is refusing to look at anybody.* Well, okay then. Debt payed. Gonna buy himself a shake or something, after this.

ANYWAY~ Good News Or Bad News?

He is met with silence. It's like they've never seen an ethereal, giant, glowing man with a suit that looks like a cut out of the night sky, step out of an eye searing rip in reality before. Man they're lives must be boring. But frankly? Danny can wait. It's not HIS reality that's gonna get messed up. He can take care of it if the wanna be Wah Babies. Good News or Bad News??? Pick one.

He sits back in the air and waits.

@stealingyourbones @cyrwrites

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Message From Beyond AU #danny totally showed up mid-meeting #yes superman is mildly concussed #to be fair though #Kryptonians get the spookies around ghosts Super Easy #he panicked OKAY #Constantine gets around #this is actually the most amicable Ex hes run into in a while #wanna hook up in a closet?#john no they say #john YES he informs them

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monstrifex-art · 1 year

Text

Howls in the Heights

Art and story by me, for the TF anthology Shifts from the Shelves.

Story:

Smoke hung in the air like an unanswered question. Between the blotchy wallpaper and the liquor-stained floorboards, the poker room couldn’t accurately be described as “nice.” But Donovan owed me a favor, so for the time being this space in the back of his bar was mine. The faint music of a jazz combo leaked under the door, distant and a little sad. I stretched, twine running through my fingers as I looped it around the tack pinning a balding man’s mug-shot to the wall.

“That one’s kind of handsome,” Rita mused from behind me.

I scoffed and shot a glance over my shoulder. Rita stood close enough that I could smell her perfume. She was watching me map my thoughts on the wall with casual amusement, her dark eyes skimming lightly over the collection of newspaper clippings and photographs.

“Maybe he was. But he’s not looking so good anymore.” I uncapped a pen and drew a large red X over his face. “Handyman Wharton was a real piece of work. But no one deserves to die like that. These murders… in all my years of investigating, I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Mmm, sounds to me like he had it coming,” she breathed as she leaned her chin on my shoulder. Rita was beautiful in a way that made it hard to think straight. She had wavy hair that fell like a black curtain on one side of her face, eyelids and lips done up in a matching smoky coal. Tonight she wore a cocktail dress that poured smoothly down her curves. The thin fabric left very little to the imagination.

Rita and I had crossed paths in a couple chance encounters over the last couple weeks. She had a habit of turning up just as things were getting interesting, and making just about everything a little more complicated. For some reason she seemed to take a shine to me. We’d started spending nights together, and she proved as enthusiastic between the sheets as she was on the dance floor. Maybe more so.

“I’m getting close,” I murmured softly. “All these bodies—there’s a pattern here. Crime barons, crooked cops… someone is making a power play for this city’s underworld. Whoever they are, they can’t hide from the truth.”

Rita slid off my back and glided over to the card table where she’d left her lighter. She sat, one leg crossed over the other, and took a long drag from the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder.

“I like watching you think, Detective. It’s like watching an old car struggle up a steep road.”

“This car still has some miles left in it,” I chuckled. “See here—Wharton was a regular at the Glass Eye. You remember, where we met at the craps table. And here, if my sources are right, Wharton was smuggling ammo for the Pinstripe gang. They’re based out of Turnstile, where you took me to see that boxing match. Hell, if I didn’t know any better Rita I’d say…”

Something cold ran down my spine. Old instincts flared to life, telling me I’d just stumbled into something big. My eyes flitted from headline to headshot, arcs of twine adding up in an intricate equation. My thoughts clicked like a typewriter, checking hunch against evidence, step-by-step. It was impossible but… the data points aligned. How could…

“Ahhh… starting to put the pieces together, are we, darling?” Rita’s voice found me from far away, as if I was at the bottom of a well. I turned to face her, limbs numb.

“You…”

She smiled, white teeth flashing in the smoky gloom. “Of course it was me, dear. It was all me. All along.”

“But… the bodies. They were torn apart. How did you…”

She laughed in that pitying little way she did when she knew something I didn’t. The melodic sound of it almost made me want to laugh with her.

“Mhmhmm aww, you still look so confused! Don’t worry sweet thing, this one is above your pay grade.” She stood with a little flourish, like a magician’s assistant. “Here. Perhaps a demonstration will make you understand.”

A part of my mind, not sure which, suddenly sounded alarm bells. An instinct to run pumped through me, made my heart beat fast and my perception sharpen. Rita was just standing there, but some awareness deep in my hindbrain was screaming danger. Predator. Flee.

I gritted my teeth. Not yet. Not when I was so close to the answer.

A shiver ran across Rita’s pale skin, starting at her back and working out to her limbs. I could see her hair stand on end. She stretched, luxuriating in the movement. Her lips parted, and a long sigh streamed from her throat like a release of pressurized air. “Hahhhh… You’re about to see who I really am, dearest.”

A quiet snapping noise, then another. Dozens of meaty clicks inside her like the sound of dislocating joints. Rita pitched forward, bending double in a violent motion that knocked the card table behind her slamming to the floor. She gasped, lurching upright with an ecstatic grin on her face. Her eyes! They had changed, darker around the edges and brighter in the middle. Her pupils reflected light like burning headlights. I couldn’t look away.

“All the rest, it’s an… affectation. Like a favorite dress that I wear around town.”

Her elbow-length gloves were starting to tear. I could see dark fur through the rips, black claws cutting neatly through the satin fingertips. She groaned, and I could hear the timbre of her voice roughening. Something cracked in her legs. Her feet shifted, pushing her taller inch by inch as they extended into long sinewy paws.

Her dress clung tightly to her curves as her frame broadened. The cloth strained, her collar line deepening as the flesh of her shoulders and chest rippled with new bulk. I could see her nipples pressing through the black cloth, erect with sensation.

She gestured to the dress, to her glittering necklace and sheer stockings. “This, all these pretty things. It used to be me… Gruuhh.” Her voice faltered as an involuntary growl rattled through her. She smiled sweetly, regaining her composure. “But not anymore.”

The fabric gave with a loud tearing noise as a large tail, black and shaggy, thrust out behind her. She took a few balancing steps forward, then reached up to brush the hair out of her face with one clawed hand. Her breathing was coming deep and heavy now, hot fog mingling with smoke in curls around her smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling. I do love our little song-and-dances. Being the stunning vision on your arm is a treat! But the real me can’t dazzle a cocktail party in quite the same way.”

She grimaced, and I could see her teeth lengthening into interlocking fangs. Fur crept down her face, pressing in at the edges of her cheeks and trailing down her nose.

She blinked and stared deep into me with those burning eyes. “I clean up pretty nice, wouldn’t you say? I certainly had you fooled!” She cackled with a wild abandon that approached madness.

Her shaking laughter choked off into gasps as she convulsed with another surge of growth. The wet sounds of her bones rearranging were almost drowned out by the noise of her widening hips and shoulders finally tearing her dress to ribbons. I could just see her face masked in shadow, distorting and stretching as her mouth extended into a snout full of pointed lupine teeth. Rivulets of saliva dripped from her black lips.

I stumbled away instinctively, felt the pins of my map wall dig into my back. Stray clues drifted to the floor like leaves. I could feel my cheeks burning hot as I tried to look away, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from her nakedness as it was torn free before me.

Between gasping breaths, she laughed violently. “YOUR FACE!” she snarled, muzzle curling into a feral grin. “You weren’t this SHY when we MADE LOVE LAST NIGHT!”

She was right, of course. I had seen every inch of her in our evenings together. But there was something about seeing her this way—it was rawer, deeper, more intimate and carnal. I was enraptured with a fascination that had never possessed me during our previous dalliances. I couldn’t understand it. I was hopelessly lost in the rhythm of her shifting flesh. Why? The scene before me was horrific, so why was I feeling this way?

“You’re… I just… I…” I stammered, struggling to put words in order.

“You still WANT me, DON’T YOU?” She was shouting now. “I can smell your desire… What is it you always say? YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH, DETECTIVE!”

That was it. I was more attracted to her now than I ever had been before. What was wrong with me? Why did my heart feel like it was about to pound its way out of my chest? I shut my eyes, turning away with a strangled cry.

“I don’t understand! Please… I can’t, I don’t…”

“LOOK AT ME, DARLING.”

I blinked toward her, seeing only blurred glimpses. I saw the fur bristling from muscle-laden thighs, the tattered sweat-soaked remnants of her dress stretched over her rippling abdominals. God, parts of her were still so human. She wasn’t an animal or a person - she was something monstrous in-between. She was a terrifying beast, but she was still recognizably… her.

“LOOK AT ME!” she roared, and the room shook. I cried out, and opened my eyes to behold her entirely.

She was beautiful.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

I stepped toward her, and fell into her arms as she embraced me. We fell together to a gasping heap on the floor. We began anew, pressing ourselves into one another with bestial fervor.

The case would have to go on a little while longer.

#art #monster #Rita #werewolf #transformation #story

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ohnoitstbskyen · 11 months

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Why do you think Diablo has disenged on it's core themes? (I mean I agree) I've always considered it to be a franchise with some insane wasted potential, but my perspective comes more from Diablo 3 and 4. Id be nice if you could expand on that.

I mean, my argument is that Diablo 1 was a dungeon crawler with a randomized loot mechanic that existed mostly to enable the roguelike random level generation that ensured replayability for the adventure. Players shouldn't be able to simply beeline it to the most powerful items in the game once they figure out exactly where they are, so randomization made each journey into the Tristram Cathedral a new process of discovery.

It's a game that, yes, wants to provide engaging gameplay, but just as much as the discovery of loot, it is driven by discovery of its world and story - multiple NPCs in the game exist that have no function or benefit to the player except as characters to interact with. You find lore tomes in the labyrinth which give you exposition about the world, but offer no tangible benefits. Shrines will randomize your stats, transform your potions, curse your items, randomly teleport you into a horde of monsters. The world is populated by objects, people and events that entice a player with curiosity to see what happens as much as they entice the player with the power fantasy of Making Number Go Up, and plenty of interactions have no hard gameplay benefit. "Sub dungeons" in the labyrinth, like the Halls of the Blind or Chamber of Bone, exist in part to give the player lootable rewards and monsters to fight, but also each of them have their own exposition, lore and worldbuilding (however limited by budget and technical limitations).

Diablo 2 realized that the skinner box thrill of randomized loot drops and number-go-up optimization was by far the most primally emotionally engaging part of Diablo 1's gameplay, and began the process of reorienting the franchise ENTIRELY to enable that specific pleasure. The loot system expands exponentially, crafting, gem slotting, etc all get introduced, and loot mechanics are given pride of place in terms of how the game engages the players. Shrines all provide knowable, specific benefits, every NPC is either a quest-giver or a merchant, there are HUNDREDS of randomized sub-dungeons on every map, and the vast majority of them have absolutely no narrative content whatsoever, they are merely slot machine arms for the player to pull, hoping for a chance of a jackpot loot drop.

Diablo 3 is the apotheosis of this process - a game which drops all pretense that the nature of your loot matters in favor of orienting every part of it around chasing the high of Getting A Bigger Number. You're a sorcerer running around with a greatsword? No problem! You cast all your spells as normal. So long as the greatsword has Bigger Numbers, anything works. Templar with a Wand? Equally viable! Damage numbers inflate into the millions, hordes of monsters swell with ever greater numbers, your spells and abilities clear entire screens in seconds, and everything in the game revolves around enabling the player's power fantasy.

In Diablo 1 you are an unimportant adventurer, the latest in a long line of unremarkable hopefuls, stepping alone into the bowels of a middle-of-nowhere village church, creeping slowly through its doors and hallways, fighting its monsters primarily one by one. Any group of ranged monsters can kill you in seconds, even in the late-game, and if you get surrounded, likely as not you are quite simply dead. It's tense, lonely, unglamorous and often desperate. Unwieldy inventory management puts constraints on your ability to heal and restore mana. You can only carry so many potions while leaving room for loot, and remember to leave room for your Town Portals and Identify scrolls, and for your all-important gold, which will clog your inventory almost totally by the end. Slay a unique monster and hope to god that the item it dropped wasn't cursed. Touch a shrine and you might lose 2 Strength points and suddenly be unable to equip your armor. When you kill Diablo, you find he is nothing but the possessed body of a young boy who was abducted and abused by a corrupt priest, an ugly and mundane tragedy leading to extraordinary suffering.

In Diablo 3 you are the most specialest most important incredible super-hero that has ever existed. You are a half-angel half-demon unstoppable killing machine, mowing down hordes of demons and corrupted angels like nothing, absolutely BATHING in infinite showers of ultra-powerful legendary loot, each more ultra-powerful and legendary than the last. You deal ten million damage with a single ability. You fight Ultra Diablo, the special super-powered SUPER SAIYING MEGA ULTRA super-powered extra special Prime Evil who is the most powerful evil bad guy who has ever existed and YOU are the only one in the whole universe who can beat him because you're SO special, yes you are! Identify shit by clicking on it! Cast town portal whenever you want! Enemies drop infinite health potions whenever you need them! Fuck it, you even KILL DEATH by the end because you are invincible and immortal and unstoppable and perfect. Fear has no hold on you, never in your life will you know uncertainty or doubt. AND it's your birthday! Buy a sword that is 3.2% better than your magic wand with real money in the auction house as a treat!

tl;dr Diablo 1 is an adventure game, Diablo 3 is Cookie Clicker.

#tb answers #diablo #diablo game #diablo 2 #diablo 3 #diablo 4 #blizzard entertainment #activision blizzard

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jovial-thunder · 5 months

Text

Pre-alpha Lancer Tactics changelog

(cross-posting the full gif changelog here because folks seemed to like it last time I did)

We're aiming for getting the first public alpha for backers by the end of this month! Carpenter and I scoped out mechanics that can wait until after the alpha (e.g. grappling, hiding) in favor of tying up the hundred loose threads that are needed for something that approaches a playable game. So this is mostly a big ol changelog of an update from doing that.

But I also gave a talent talk at a local Portland Indie Game Squad event about engine architecture! It'll sound familiar if you've been reading these updates; I laid out the basic idea for this talk almost a year ago, back in the June 2023 update.

youtube

We've also signed contracts & had a kickoff meeting with our writers to start on the campaigns. While I've enjoyed like a year of engine-work, it'll be so so nice to start getting to tell stories. Data structures don't mean anything beyond how they affect humans & other life.

New Content

Implemented flying as a status; unit counts as +3 spaces above the current ground level and ignores terrain and elevation extra movement costs. Added hover + takeoff/land animations.

Gave deployables the ability to have 3D meshes instead of 2D sprites; we'll probably use this mostly when the deployable in question is climbable.

Related, I fixed a bug where after terrain destruction, all units recheck the ground height under them so they'll move down if the ground is shot out from under them. When the Jerichos do that, they say "oh heck, the ground is taller! I better move up to stand on it!" — not realizing that the taller ground they're seeing came from themselves.

Fixed by locking some units' rendering to the ground level; this means no stacking climbable things, which is a call I'm comfortable making. We ain't making minecraft here (I whisper to myself, gazing at the bottom of my tea mug).

Block sizes are currently 1x1x0.5 — half as tall as they are wide. Since that was a size I pulled out of nowhere for convenience, we did some art tests for different block heights and camera angles. TLDR that size works great and we're leaving it.

Added Cone AOE pattern, courtesy of an algorithm NMcCoy sent me that guarantees the correct number of tiles are picked at the correct distance from the origin.

pick your aim angle

for each distance step N of your cone, make a list ("ring") of all the cells at that distance from your origin

sort those cells by angular distance from your aim angle, and include the N closest cells in that ring in the cone's area

Here's a gif they made of it in Bitsy:

Units face where you're planning on moving/targeting them.

Got Walking Armory's Shock option working. Added subtle (too subtle, now that I look at it) electricity effect.

Other things we've added but I don't have gifs for or failed to upload. You'll have to trust me. :)

disengage action

overcharge action

Improved Armament core bonus

basic mine explosion fx

explosion fx on character dying

Increase map elevation cap to 10. It's nice but definitely is risky with increasing the voxel space, gonna have to keep an eye on performance.

Added Structured + Stress event and the associated popups. Also added meltdown status (and hidden countdown), but there's not animation for this yet so your guy just abruptly disappears and leaves huge crater.

UI Improvements

Rearranged the portrait maker. Auto-expand the color picker so you don't have to keep clicking into a submenu.

Added topdown camera mode by pressing R for handling getting mechs out of tight spaces.

The action tooltips have been bothering me for a while; they extend up and cover prime play-area real estate in the center of the screen. So I redesigned them to be shorter and have a max height by putting long descriptions in a scrollable box. This sounds simple, but the redesign, pulling in all the correct data for the tags, and wiring up the tooltips took like seven hours. Game dev is hard, yo.

Put the unit inspect popups in lockable tooltips + added a bunch of tooltips to them.

Implemented the rest of Carpenter's cool hex-y action and end turn readout. I'm a big fan of whenever we can make the game look more like a game and less like a website (though he balances out my impulse for that for the sake of legibility).

Added a JANKY talent/frame picker. I swear we have designs for a better one, but sometimes you gotta just get it working. Also seen briefly here are basic level up/down and HASE buttons.

Other no-picture things:

Negated the map-scaling effect that happens when the window resizes to prevent bad pixel scaling of mechs at different resolutions; making the window bigger now just lets you see more play area instead of making things bigger.

WIP Objectives Bullets panel to give the current sitrep info

Wired up a buncha tooltips throughout the character sheet.

Under the Hood

Serialization: can save/load games! This is the payoff for sticking with that engine architecture I've been going on about. I had to add a serialization function to everything in the center layer which took a while, but it was fairly straightforward work with few curveballs.

Finished replacement of the kit/unit/reinforcement group/sitrep pickers with a new standardized system that can pull from stock data and user-saved data.

Updated to Godot 4.2.2; the game (and editor) has been crashing on exit for a LONG time and for the life of me I couldn't track down why, but this minor update in Godot completely fixed the bug. I still have no idea what was happening, but it's so cool to be working in an engine that's this active bugfixing-wise!

Other Bugfixes

Pulled straight from the internal changelog, no edits for public parseability:

calculate cover for fliers correctly

no overwatch when outside of vertical threat

fixed skirmisher triggering for each attack in an AOE

fixed jumpjets boost-available detection

fixed mines not triggering when you step right on top of them // at a different elevation but still adjacent

weapon mods not a valid target for destruction

made camera pan less jumpy and adjust to the terrain height

better Buff name/desc localization

Fixed compcon planner letting you both boost and attack with one quick action.

Fix displayed movement points not updating

Prevent wrecks from going prone

fix berserkers not moving if they were exactly one tile away

hex mine uses deployer's save target instead of 0

restrict weapon mod selection if you don't have the SP to pay

fix deployable previews not going away

fix impaired not showing up in the unit inspector (its status code is 0 so there was a check that was like "looks like there's no status here")

fix skirmisher letting you move to a tile that should cost two movement if it's only one space away

fix hit percent calculation

fix rangefinder grid shader corner issues (this was like a full day to rewrite the shader to be better)

Teleporting costs the max(spaces traveled, elevation change) instead of always 1

So um, yeah, that's my talk, any questions? (I had a professor once tell us to never end a talk like this, so now of course it's the phrase that first comes to mind whenever I end a talk)

#lancer tactics #lancer rpg #indie game dev #made with godot #godot engine #godot 4 #Youtube

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mxstellatayte · 3 months

Note

Can u do carlos w/ actions 1,5,11? thank u so much ^^

im just gonna do actions 1 and 5 because i'm touch starved (and also sick so energy is LOWWWW at the moment). hope you like it <3

movie nights are a very common occurrence in your relationship with carlos. ever since he found out that your favorite way to spend time with someone you love is by just laying on the couch under a pile of blankets with a bowl of popcorn and a good movie, it's how you've spent almost every saturday night before a race. there's something about being so close to you that, no matter how bad your jet lag is and what time zone your body is in, the two of you are able to fall asleep extremely easily.

"amor?" you hear, followed by the hotel room closing and shoes being kicked off, shoved somewhere out of the way.

"hey, carlos," you smile, closing your laptop and leaning forwards. he kisses you quickly before flopping down onto the bed next to you, face down in the plush duvet. "hard qualy day?"

"yeah. i'm exhausted." you gently rub at his back, and he moans happily.

"you wanna watch a movie?"

"that sounds amazing. i'm gonna shower real quick, so do you wanna choose tonight?"

"sure," you say, pressing another quick kiss to his lips before he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door. after the water starts running, you grab the tv remote and pull the duvet off of the bed, making yourself comfortable on the couch. there aren't many options in terms of movies, but you find one of your favorites: the italian job. once it's ready to play, you throw a bag of microwavable popcorn into the "cancer box," as your mother likes to call it, eagerly awaiting the time where you get a human weighted blanket and can press play on the movie. soon enough, the shower is turned off and the door opens.

"what did you find?" carlos wipes at his hair with a towel, another hanging around his hips, and you have to keep a complete and absolute death grip on your self-control to not commit sins right then and there.

"the italian job. it's one of my favorites. i'm honestly surprised we haven't watched it yet." carlos changes into joggers and a t-shirt, then immediately lays down on top of you, immediately bringing you a sense of calm.

"in that case, let's begin." you smile, grabbing the remote as carlos pulls the duvet over the two of you, and you smile as a familiar intro begins to play. maps and arrows appear on screen, and your left hand comes up to play with carlos' damp hair. he sighs happily, sinking further into you, and not even half an hour later, you've both fallen asleep, the movie long forgotten in favor of resting before the race.

#mxstellatayte #stella mini writez #formula 1 #f1 #carlos sainz #driver: cs55.#formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x female reader #f1 fluff #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfiction #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x gn! reader

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reaper2187 · 4 months

Text

Eleven x female chief reader

Y/N stood at the precipice of a dark alley in DisCity, the dilapidated remnants of the once-proud metropolis looming over her. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. She adjusted her coat, trying to shake off the chill that seemed to seep from the very bricks of the city itself.

Path to Nowhere was a place of mystery and danger, a labyrinth of streets and alleys where the line between right and wrong blurred, and survival was the only law. Y/N had navigated these streets countless times, but tonight felt different. Tonight, she wasn’t alone.

Beside her, Eleven moved with an eerie grace. The enigmatic, pale-haired woman had a presence that commanded attention, her cold blue eyes scanning their surroundings with an intensity that made Y/N's heart race. Eleven was an anomaly in DisCity, a figure shrouded in mystery and whispered legends. Some said she was a ghost, others a warrior from a forgotten time. To Y/N, she was an ally and, perhaps, something more.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” Eleven’s voice was a smooth, cool whisper, carrying an unspoken promise of protection and strength.

Y/N nodded, meeting her gaze. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s find that clue.”

Their mission was to track down a piece of intel crucial to the resistance movement they had both pledged their lives to. DisCity's corrupt government had to be brought down, and every bit of information could tip the scales in their favor.

They moved as shadows, silent and swift, through the twisting alleys and deserted streets. The city was a maze, but Y/N had a map in her mind, a mental blueprint she’d painstakingly built over years. Eleven followed her lead, her steps never faltering, her presence a comforting assurance at Y/N's side.

After what felt like hours of navigating through the labyrinthine streets, they arrived at a decrepit building that looked as if it had been abandoned for decades. Y/N pushed the door open, and it creaked ominously, echoing through the emptiness. The smell of mold and decay assaulted her senses, but she pressed on, her flashlight cutting through the darkness.

“This way,” Y/N whispered, leading Eleven up a narrow staircase that groaned under their weight. Each step felt like a gamble, the stairs threatening to collapse at any moment.

They reached a small room at the top, the door slightly ajar. Y/N pushed it open gently, revealing a space cluttered with old papers, broken furniture, and the remnants of a life long forgotten. Amidst the chaos, a small, metal box caught her eye. She moved towards it, heart pounding, knowing that this could be the clue they were searching for.

Eleven stood guard by the door, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger. Y/N knelt beside the box, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened it. Inside, she found a stack of documents, yellowed with age but still legible. Her eyes widened as she realized the significance of what she was holding.

“These are plans,” she murmured, half to herself and half to Eleven. “Plans for a weapon, a powerful one that could change everything.”

Eleven moved to her side, her expression unreadable. “We need to get these back to the resistance. This could be the key to turning the tide.”

As they prepared to leave, a noise from downstairs froze them in their tracks. The sound of footsteps echoed through the building, heavy and purposeful. Y/N's heart raced, and she exchanged a tense glance with Eleven.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” Eleven said, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. “Stay close.”

They moved back down the stairs, their senses on high alert. As they reached the bottom, a group of armed men burst into the room, their faces twisted with malicious intent.

“There’s nowhere to run, girls,” the leader sneered, his gun trained on Y/N. “Hand over the documents, and maybe we’ll let you live.”

Y/N’s grip tightened on the papers, but before she could react, Eleven stepped forward, her eyes blazing with determination.

“Not a chance,” she said, her voice like ice.

What happened next was a blur of motion and chaos. Eleven moved with the precision and grace of a trained warrior, her attacks swift and devastating. Y/N watched in awe as she disarmed the men, taking them down one by one with a ferocity that left no room for doubt.

In the midst of the battle, one of the men managed to grab Y/N, his arm wrapping around her throat. She struggled, gasping for breath, but Eleven was there in an instant. With a swift, decisive blow, she freed Y/N, sending the man sprawling to the floor.

“Are you okay?” Eleven asked, her voice filled with concern as she pulled Y/N to her feet.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding. “Thanks to you.”

Together, they finished off the last of the attackers, the room falling silent once more. As the adrenaline began to fade, Y/N found herself staring at Eleven, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper swirling in her chest.

“You saved my life,” she said softly.

Eleven smiled, a rare, genuine expression that lit up her face. “We’re in this together, Y/N. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

As they made their way back through the dark streets of DisCity, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of hope. The path to nowhere was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but with Eleven by her side, she knew they could face whatever came their way.

In the quiet moments between the chaos, Y/N found herself drawn to Eleven, her strength and resilience a beacon in the darkness. And as they walked together, their shoulders brushing, Y/N dared to dream of a future where they could find peace and happiness amidst the ruins of their world.

For now, they had a mission to complete and a city to save. But in the midst of the struggle, they had found something precious: each other. And that, Y/N realized, was worth fighting for.

#lesbian #wlw #wlw post #path to nowhere x reader #path to nowhere #ptn #ptn women x reader #ptn eleven #ptn eleven x reader #eleven #eleven x reader

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neopuppy · 1 year

Note

What abt some hard hour pissplay with Jeno?🤞

I’m going to include this in a fic later. so I guess this could be the teaser.

warnings. nothing explicit, but you know what it is

“Here, take your shirt back.”

Jeno’s lips have lost all their usual pink luster, faded and gone dry, not even a coat of spit can provide enough moisture anymore.

“No—no, it’s fine.” He says between gritted teeth, head shaking with another suspicious glance around the freezer. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’re shaking, and..” Jeno stiffens up, clearly in an attempt to mask that he can hardly handle this anymore. “I’ll be fine, we’re stuck in here together anyways. I’d rather you not die of hypothermia and leave me alone in here with your lifeless body..”

“Thanks.” He brushes off the shirt, nodding back at you to put it back on. “We’re not going to die in here, alright? I have an idea.”

“The vents?”

Jeno’s eyes bulge open, quickly mapping across the ceiling. “There are no vents?”

“What type of shoddy building is this? No vents?!?”

“It’s a freezer.. for frozen yogurt.” Jeno seems more frazzled by your inability to have registered the extensive training he put you through your first week than the unfortunate predicament you’ve landed yourselves in. “Our job is to clean it out. I—“ his teeth clench, twisting his head to the side to silence a hiss.

“Jeno come on, you’re freezing!” Ignoring him, you place his uniform shirt on his back and rub, noting that the friction at least provides warmth against your palms. “You know, we could probably create more body warmth if we help each other out.”

Back muscles go rigid beneath your hands, Jeno’s neck appearing painfully tight as he turns to peer at you from the corner of his eye. “I was thinking..” Jeno says hesitantly, turning his focus to his lap. “If you’re comfortable with it, we could try to hug and..”

“For body warmth?” You interrupt, having the same idea the more your hands defrost. He seems to struggle even more, not from the biting cold but more from nerves, stuttering between each word.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll do anything at this point Jeno, we have no guarantee Chenle’s lazy will even wake up on time for his shift. It’s not as if he’s notoriously known for being on time.” You shrug, rubbing up and down your own arms now missing your coworkers' larger palms. “Come here.”

Jeno seems more taken aback by your confident embrace, moving yourself onto his lap to wrap around his waist and seek some type of warmth in the crook of his neck, instantly melting down the icicle the tip of your nose was beginning to turn into. “Hold me.”

He sighs, relaxing back against the boxes behind him again, biceps circling around your upper back. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. You’re shaking so much..” selfishness subsides in favor of logic, if you can keep Jeno warm, he can keep you warm. “Here..” giving your hands a good blow for a minute you reach for his waist, gliding up and down his sides that are still not as chilled as your touch. If anything his body is doing more to warm you up than you’re providing him. “Is this.. does this feel good?”

Jeno’s eyes fall shut tightly, wrinkled up at the corners with pursed lips. He nods rapidly, thighs still jerking up and down under your weight. “You’re lying, you’re still trembling.”

“It’s not because of that.” He grimaces, hands coming to a pause on your arms. “I have to..”

“What?”

Jeno doesn’t want to meet your questioning gaze, gone more tense and with an expression holding back a scream. His grip on your waist squeezes, biting down on his bottom lip before moving you off and jumping up jerkily shaking off his legs.

“I have to use the bathroom.” He says, mostly whimpers, biting on his fingers as he begins to pace back and forth between the lines of froyo containers. “I’m sorry, I have to! I’m going crazy.”

He really wants to scream that he’s about to piss himself, doing his best to stay calm and distract his mind. The pinching cold doesn’t help, shivering down his spine straight to his full bladder. Curse his damn need to stay hydrated all day, why did he have to down a gallon of water while closing up the shop everyday? Jeno mentally notes- stop drinking water because you could end up trapped for hours with your attractive coworker who hates you with nowhere to piss but in front of her.

“That’s it? You just have to pee?” He’s still shirtless, and while he looks more insane than what you’re used to running back and forth in a panic, you can’t stop gazing in awe. How the fuck is Jeno seriously this jacked? Maybe that would’ve made his daily yogurt facts more pleasant to listen to. Wait, is that sexual harassment? Does this place even have an HR?

“What do you mean just have to pee?” He’s frantic, pulling at his hair. “I’ve been trying to figure out for the last two hours where I can piss in here without forever changing the trajectory of our working relationship and—“

“You know this is only a summer job for me, right?” You stand, shrugging despite shivering. “I can look away if you really need to go.”

“I can’t!” Jeno’s eyes widen, glossy as if he’s ready to burst into tears. “I can’t do that with you here with me! You’ll hear, and—“

“I know what pee sounds like.” You shrug again, turning toward one of the freezer walls. “Look, I’ll even cover my ears too if you want me to.”

Jeno paces around for a minute longer, biting his thumbnail down to raw skin. “Fine. Don’t turn around!” He’d already decided an hour ago after calculating stats that lemon tart would be the best canister to empty himself in. No one eats nasty ass lemon tart.

Knocking off the lid he takes a look inside, nose scrunching up at the yellow color. Fitting.

Jeno can feel sweet relief right around the corner, the weight of pressure against his shoulders floating away as he wraps around his length to tug himself free and give his bladder a break.

Except nothing happens. Nothing.

The pain in his abdomen tightens, gritting his teeth and shaking himself once to awaken his urge and finally release.

“Fuck.” He can’t. He can’t fucking piss. He can’t do it with you in here, you’ll smell it. Even if you cover your ears and shut your eyes. You’ll judge him forever for being the guy that couldn’t even hold his piss for a few hours(7 more to go, but who’s counting).

“What’s wrong?” You turn to look, startling him to jump back and tuck away his length.

“I said don’t look!” Jeno fumes, turning away and cursing between a cry. “I can’t! I can’t do it!”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, turning to face him, noticing the lid missing from the lemon tart case. “I would’ve pissed in there too, hate lemon tart.”

“I can’t do it! You—I can’t with you!” He’s back to pacing like a maniac, biting on his hand to stop himself from screaming.

“I mean, at some point I’m gonna have to pee too?” You cringe, rolling your eyes because it’s inevitable with your weak bladder. “Look Jeno, it’s not a big deal.” It’s not, it is, but it’s not….

It’s not a big deal when you’re watching hentai anyway, right? Wait that’s— that’s not…

You snort, in disbelief. This has to be the cold getting to your brain, no way your mind went to porn you somehow end up on at 4am when you know better but your ovulation cycle could give a shit.

“Why are you laughing?!”

“Jeno Jeno! Calm down okay?! What if..” you laugh nervously, scratching your head. “I can help?”

“Wh-what.. how?”

Jeno regrets asking as you inch closer to him and nod toward his crotch. “Take off your pants.”

#asks #nct hard hours #WIP #jeno hard hours

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dduane · 1 year

Note

OK so listen: I am the same age-ish as both the illustrious Mr. Gaiman and, I believe, you. So when you wrote the first Wizard book I was closer to having a kid, not reading like one. Still, I will read nearly anything, my mother used to tease me b/c if all there was to read at breakfast was the cereal box, I'd be reading it. I've read a LOT of books.

Just read SYWTBAW. Not to state the ridiculously obvious but it was well worth the 6-week wait (at the NYPL no less, who has plenty of copies). The rest of the series, of course, are now on my waitlist.

2 questions for you:

1: Should I read them in order? Will it make a difference to story arc/character development?

2: Did you pick Schenectady off a map/resource or have you actually been there and were speaking from personal knowledge? Double funny b/c aforementioned kid has lived there.

I'm so glad I found you and your work. Thanks for being such a nice person and fantastic writer (and cook, huh?)

...Yeah, I'm not a bad cook. (Though my most effective education in the art came from the gents on whom Tom Swale and Carl Romeo are based.) :) ...And I've got a shade less than a decade on @neil-gaiman. But once you're past 50, these differences don't matter so much, as you'll no doubt have been noticing. Especially among fellow cereal-box readers.

Meanwhile, I'm glad you liked So You Want To Be A Wizard! (And NYPL kept you waiting six weeks for a copy?? WTF. ...But I guess that means their available copies are in demand, so I shouldn't complain.)

Re: reading in order: In this series's case, I do recommend sticking with the publishing order, as there's a definite events arc... and as part of that, both plots and character development become more complex as time goes on. (Possibly a symptom of the author coming to a better understanding of the world she was building. Who knows.)

And re: Schenectady: I've been in and out a few times during trips upstate, but the main reference is to an old joke of Harlan Ellison's. He used to get a lot of questions from people at conventions who wanted to know where he got his ideas. Harlan eventually took to answering "Schenectady," claiming there was some kind of useful-idea warehouse up there... so that when he felt he was running low, he'd get on the phone to them and do a bulk order. (snicker) It was a favored riff. He kept adding unlikely stuff to it as time went by. Eventually I asked to borrow the locale-bit of the shtick, and he said "okay".

Anyway: glad you're planning to follow up on the series. When you run out of the in-traditional-print material, you may want to have a look at Ebooks Direct. There's more YW material over there, including at least one non-main-sequence novel, the offshoot Feline Wizards series, and a batch of novella-length works. (Not to mention the revised, updated-timeline New Millennium Edition ebook versions of the main sequence.)

Meanwhile: hope you enjoy what lies before you! :) And thanks for letting me know you liked the first one.

#So You Want To Be A Wizard #Young Wizards series

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a1307s · 10 months

Text

Very Good or Very Bad

(Jaime Reyes)

[Art is not mine! Credit to PollyGuo]

Requested by: Aiko424

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6880

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Cursing

Super long, so my bad

Cállate. Por favor, cállate tu molesto bicho: "Shut up. Please, just shut up you annoy bug"

———————————————————————

"You're shaking," I say to a twig of a guy nervously looking down at his phone. Ever since I not so accidentally blew up an abandoned building a few weeks ago Wally - my older brother - won't let me walk myself anywhere. Given, I blew up the building to save the lives of innocent - and stupid - citizens of Central City but he didn't want to hear any of that. So, I've been stuck on a leash ever since.

Most of the time Wally himself, Artemis, or Dick pick me up and walk me home, but Dick is on medical rest and Wally and Artemis left for Gotham this morning to visit her parents. You'd assume that would get me off my leash, ya? No. Instead of letting me go to Gotham too or trusting me to watch myself they asked Dick to watch me for the next week.

Since he's on medical leave, all Dick can do is relax so no hero work and definitely no patrolling Blüdhaven. Since Wayne Junior got himself injured, he's not allowed to leave Mount Justice so that Barbra and M'gann can monitor him. Also because of this, I'm stuck being walked home by the league members and being stuck in a rock box with Wally's old - and new - team mates, which doesn't seem like a fun time.

By lunch Richard texted to tell me 'Jaime has a half day so he's coming to pick you up'. After a quick description - skinny Hispanic boy that talks to himself and has a beetle on his back - I had an idea of who to look for after school.

"I'm not shaking," Says - hopefully - Jaime. "I'm just cold."

"You're just a lair," I say back, taking a sidestep to look for this beetle imprint Grayson mentioned before. An imprint is present so I'm pretty sure this is the right guy. "Why are you shaking?"

"I am not shaking and even if I was shaking it might - or might not - be because I'm terrified of Nightwing and what will happen to me if something happens to you," Jaime races out, constantly glancing down at his phone.

"Mmkay, a little paranoid of you," I say, grabbing the guy's wrist and heading towards the school gates. "I don't know where I'm going," I tell him, dropping his wrist and reaching into my bag for my phone.

"Umm... that way... I think?" He says, glancing to the left after burning holes into his phone with his eyes.

"Let me see," I say, tilting his phone to look at the directions. "Do you not know how to read a map? A google map, nonetheless? We got to go to the right."

"Oh, okay" Jaime says, moving to my side to start heading down the street. As Dick mentioned, he constantly whispers to himself as we walk down the road.

"So, like do you talk to yourself cause you're crazy or?" I ask, glancing at him before turning back to the sidewalk in front of us.

"I'm not crazy," Jaime answers before continuing to whisper to himself. "I'm not crazy," he repeats.

I hum in response before turning to walk backwards so I'm facing Jaime. "People that aren't crazy usually don't have to state it," I say, locking my eyes on him. His eyes are a brown color whereas I got the signature green West color.

"In my defense, you asked," he says, constantly moving his head around as if it's on a swivel.

"Touche," I answer, folding my hands behind my head as I continue to walk. "So, Jaime Reyes, what's so big and bad about you?"

"Big and bad?"

"Ya, like why are you a hero and all? What's so special about you that Batman was like 'oh ya this kid can totally beat the shit out of villains'?" I ask, amusingly watching Jaime having a mini freak out.

"Um... There's an alien parasite on my spine I guess," He answers nervously, glancing down at his phone before doing another environment check.

"You guess? There either is or isn't and I feel like you would know," I voice, rethinking if he really is a hero or if Bruce just happened to adopt another kid by accident.

"Yes, there is one. What's with all the questions?"

"I just like to know who's hanging around my brother and uncles is all," I answer, going to turn face front again.

Despite me counting my paces, I'm closer to the street than I thought, which leads me slap dab in the road. "Be careful," Jaime snaps, grabbing the hood of my hoodie and pulling me back on to the sidewalk. "Nightwing would kill me if you got ran over."

"One, Nightwing wouldn't kill you. Artemis might but Nightwing would just lecture you and me. And two, there isn't any cars coming so it's not like I would have gotten ran over," I tell him, slightly smiling at the distress on his face. "You're like super stressed out about this. Why are you stressing so hard?"

"I'm not stressed out," Jaime answers, not letting go of my hoodie as we walk across the street.

"I've known you for like five minutes and you've already lied twice. Batman must be having a field day with you."

"You don't know me," He answers, stopping once we are safely back on the sidewalk to check the directions again. "And I've never met Batman, so I don't know what he thinks of me."

"He thinks you have emotional regulation issues," I say, repeating what Bruce told me last month about the newest member on Nightwing's hero squad.

Jaime glances up from his phone to me a few times before pulling me in the direction he decided on. "Did he really say that?"

"Ya, but he didn't mean it in a 'I'm better than everyone' way. It was a more of 'Yo, Nightwing your underling has this issue and here's how to help with it' way I guess," I answer, focusing on Jaime's face. He's quite a pretty boy when he's not in the middle of a panic attack.

"Well Nightwing says you're a reckless air head," My escort says, pretty upset about the information I've shared with him.

"I know I am. I take after Wally." I shift the collar of my hoodie to get more comfortable with Jaime tugging on it. He notices and drops his hold on my clothing.

When Jaime figures out which way to go, he grabs on to my wrist and starts walking again. "Ya? You take after Wally in any other ways?"

"Not really. I mean I have his humor but that's about it."

Jaime suddenly stops, causing me to bump into his back. It's a lot more toned than I thought it would be and there most definitely is a beetle attached to his spine. "You're not a speedster?" He asks, turning his head to look at me.

"Hm? Oh, no I'm not. I'm more of a retro hero like Nightwing and Artemis," I answer, moving myself to stand next to him instead of being dragged behind.

"Why aren't you a speedster? Genetic skip or something?"

"Well we don't really know how it'll work with Barry and Wally's genetics yet since neither have had kids. Barry got his abilities in a freak accident and then Wally got them by coping said freak accident," I explain, taking in the soft coloring of Jaime's skin.

The phone booth portal thingy Bruce invented is sat in front of us, so I take the chance to say, "You're really hot," before wiggling out of his hold and slip through the phone booth.

"What?" Jaime voice echos through the empty training room when he slips in after me.

Unlucky for him, I'm already in the living room and in Richard's grasp. "You're getting so big," my make shift Uncle cries, squeezing me in his arms and covering the crown of my head in kisses.

"You literally saw me last week," I murmur, rolling my eyes as I try to wiggle out of his grasp.

"And since then you've definitely gotten taller," Richard says, followed with a whine when I mange to get out of his hold. The tantrum doesn't last long though. When Jaime enters the room, Nightwing's attention is switch from me to the beetle boy. "Jaime! Good job not losing Y/N on the walk here!"

"You really paint me out to be some teenage dirt bag don't you?" I ask, swinging open the fridge in search of a snack.

"No I don't! You're just... a lot like Wally."

"You mean I'm a reckless air head?" I tease, pulling out a cheese stick before plopping myself on one of the arm chairs.

Nightwing's masked eyes get bigger before he sneaks a glance at Barbra. "Bsh... no... I would never call you that. That's so-"

"Out of line for a grown man to insult a young girl?" I finish for him, watching as he accuses Barbra of spilling the beans through his eyes.

"Just go do your homework or something," Richard says, using his crunches to storm out of the room. It was quite a funny sight, watching him trying to storm out with a broken leg.

————————————

"Oh it's you again," I say, sneaking up on Jaime who's waiting at the front gate to walk me home again.

The blue of the beetle armor pokes out from under Jaime's sleeves before disappearing again. I must have really scared him then. Since Mr 'you don't know me' avoided me all day yesterday I decided to check Bruce's file on him. It was an interesting read to say the least.

"It's me again," He repeats, doing a look up and down of me before pushing himself off the gate he was leaning on. "You're not wearing a hoodie today," He comments, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Ya, I don't like people using the hood to walk me like a dog," I answer, holding the straps of my book-bag as we walk. "You have another half day today?"

"No," Jaime answers shortly, his head back to being on a swivel.

"Then why are you walking me again? Isn't El Paso like 700 miles away or something?"

"Something like that but Mount Justice is even further away from here but it's only a ten minute walk for us," Jaime answers, stepping around me so he's closer to the street.

"True, but you wouldn't have time to get out of class and get here to pick me up even with the Zeta Tube," I comment, watching as Jaime's eyes lock on the street corner begger. His name is Connie and he chills on the street corner around this time and during the before school rush in the morning. Connie is an okay guy but he is quite quick to anger.

"What does it matter?" Jaime asks, switching which side he's standing on so that he's closer to the begger. His hand wraps around my wrist as we past Connie and cross the street.

"I'm just curious," I answer, constantly glance at Jaime's hand on my wrist.

"Curiosity killed the cat. Also, how'd you know I was from El Paso?" Jaime asks, glancing around the new stretch of sidewalk. His hand stays very much latched around my wrist as he does so.

"Barbra mentioned you were from Texas, so I just took a guess at one of the bigger cities within the state," I answer, holding my breath in hopes he'll buy the lie. He does, luckily, and leaves our conversation to die off. "So.... you get in trouble at school or something?" I ask after a couple minutes of silence.

"I got suspended," He answers, tugging me in front of him as a group of other teens walk past. The mix of holding my wrist and walking so close to me causes Jaime to bump into me every couple steps. His chest is hard, even harder than Bruce's. When I glance down his fingers are coated in the black armor I recognize from the photos in his file. Does he feel threatened by me or by the baseball players walking past? It has to be me, right? I'm a trainee of Kid Flash, Nightwing, and Batman himself. How the fuck would my school's baseball players threaten him?

"For what?" I ask, glancing up at my repeated escort. Jaime's jaw is tight, and his eyebrows are squinted together.

He makes whispers in Spanish under his breath - which I don't understand, before he answers me. "Does it matter?"

"Why are you so pissy today? For someone that was bitching yesterday about me not knowing them, you're not very open with me." Jaime glances down at me but doesn't say anything in response. Instead, he lets go of my wrist and shifts himself between the road and me again.

The rest of the walk is uneventful other than a cardinal crossing our path. Jaime did not find my excitement over the bird very interesting though. He just mumbled to himself and dragged me the rest of the way to the phone booth. When we get to the hidden zeta tube, I go to step into it but Jaime pulls me back. "Hey, what did you say yesterday?" He asks, eyes locked on me and hands locked around my wrists.

————————————

Jaime's POV

What the fuck? What the fuck?! Why am I the one picking up Nightwing's niece? Nightwing's arsonist niece. Who blew up a building. Heroes blow up buildings all the time. Heroes around my age do not blow-up buildings! Except Kid Flash's little sister apparently!

I nervously glance at my phone again, re-reading Nightwing's description of his niece for the hundredth time. What if I can't find her? What if I mistake another kid for her? What if I bring another kid to the mountain on accident? That would definitely get me kicked off the team. Or murdered! Do heroes murder? I don't think so... well.. Arsenal does. Would he kill me? Nightwing wouldn't let him kill me... right? Artemis's parents kill people and she's technically this girl's sister-in-law, right? Would Sport-Master kill me for accidentally abounding Artemis's sister-in-law?

What if some freak accident happens on the walk to the Mount? Nightwing would defiantly kill me if his niece got hurt on my watch. Or Wally would... or Artemis... or Batman. Oh my God I forgot about Batman. I bet Batman would throughout his no kill rule for this chick. I mean his son refers to this chick as his niece. That like technically makes this girl his granddaughter.

"I will not let Batman - or anyone else - hurt us," Scarab says, which does not help my train of thought. I'm totally going to get murdered.

In retaliation to my thoughts, Scarab tries to activate my armor. "We do not need that right now. Not needed," I whisper to myself; Well technically to the Scarab but might as well be one in the same. "Can't you just like scan people and let me know who does fit the description?"

"Yes. Please read the description." I whisper the description out loud a few times before a bell rings. "Scanning has commenced," Scarab says as I look around at the different people spilling out of the building. "Jaime Reyes, your high epinephrine levels have caused you to start shaking," the parasite adds.

"High levels of what is causing what?" I ask, glancing down at my phone to read the description again.

"Your high levels of epinephrine has called what humans have named 'anxiety'. Your body is trying to release this 'anxiety' by shaking," the bug answers. "Suspect has been-"

"You're shaking," A voice says from behind me.

"-identified," Scarab finishes. Way too many noises are going on right now, both inside and outside my head.

I turn to look at the person behind me and wouldn't you know, she fits the description perfectly. "I'm not shaking. I'm just cold," I answer, taking in the girl in front of me. She's the spitting image of Wally. Her eyes are the same green as his and her hair is red but not the same red as Wally's. Maybe it's dyed or maybe she just got different genetic pigments than Wally.

"You are shaking Jaime Reyes, and you are not cold. Your body temperature is ninety-nine point four degrees Fahrenheit. From the high levels of resorcinol in her hair, the girl does not have natural red hair," Scarab says, answering my question.

"You're just a lair," Y/N says, taking a sidestep and decking her head to get a glance at my back. Ya, this definitely has to be her. "Why are you shaking?" She asks, setting herself back in front of me.

She has freckles. Really cute freckles. How old is she? I glance down at my phone again to read Nightwing's description again. From his explanation Y/N is only a year younger than me. "Jaime Reyes, suspect is waiting for you to answer."

Oh shit, ya, I haven't answered her yet. In my rush to answer her without it seeming like I ignored her; I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "I'm not shaking and even if I was shaking it might - or might not - be because I'm terrified of Nightwing and what will happen to me if something happens to you." What the fuck kind of answer was that? That was such a loser answer.

"Jaime Reyes, you are shaking. You're shaking because you're scared of Nightwing, Wally, Artemis, Sports-Master, Arsenal, and Batman," The Scarab says, making me even more annoyed with my own name.

"Mmkay, a little paranoid of you," Y/N says before grabbing my wrist. Her skin is super soft against my own. This can't be the touch of an arsonist, right? It's too soft, too smooth, too gentle. I willingly follow her as she walks away from the building and off the school grounds until she comes to an abrupt stop.

She drops my wrist, causing a tinge of sadness to rise in my chest. Why am I sad that she's not touching me anymore? I don't even know this girl with cute freckles that dyes her hair red to match her brother's. "Subject has caused an increase in your phenylethylamine levels. When subject let go of you, your phenylethylamine dropped which is causing the human emotion of 'sadness'."

"I don't know where I'm going," Y/N says, messing around in her bag. After a couple seconds she pulls out her cellphone. I take the chance to type the address Nightwing sent me into my phone.

I keep glancing between my phone and Y/N as she checks her notifications. She doesn't answer any of them and instead slips the phone into her hoodie pocket. She stands there, staring at me. Her eyes are bright and so full of life. "Subject's levels of catecholamines has slightly risen," Scarab says, replacing my thoughts with their voice.

"I don't know what that means," I mumble, looking down at my phone again to try and focus on the directions.

"Subject is experiencing 'annoyance' from your lack of answering."

"Umm..." I mumble, glancing at my phone again. "That way... I think..." I say, glancing to the left. Why is it so hard to focus right now? She's just a girl. I'm around girls all day. I go to school with girls all day, and then go fight crime with girls all night, and then go home to a house full of girls. She is just a girl.

Y/N takes a step forward and reaches out towards me. "Let me see," she says, her fingertips pressing against my phone so she can view it. Her nails are black, but her ring finger has a blue stripe on it. That's cute. It reminds me of Nightwing's suit. Oh shit, Nightwing is going to kill me if our walk keeps lagging from my lack of awareness. "Do you not know how to read a map?" She asks, looking up at me with those big fucking beanie baby eyes. "A google map, nonetheless? We have to go right," she says, turning right and starting to walk in that direction.

"Oh, okay," I peep out, taking wide strides to catch up to her.

"Subject is effecting your chemical balances. Recommendation: Illumination," Scarab says, in their nonchalant way.

"Illumination? Illumination? Maybe let's not 'illuminate' Batman's granddaughter, ya? Batman is not an enemy I want to have in this lifetime or the next," I fight back, trying to keep my voice low so Y/N doesn't hear me.

"Recommendation: Illuminate subject and Batman."

"The fuck you mean 'illuminate Batman'? How about we illuminate no one? That sounds like a good recommendation."

"So, like do you talk to yourself cause you're crazy or?" Y/N asks, sneaking a peek at me before her eyes focus back to in front of her.

"I'm not crazy," I rush out.

"Subject is now causing a re-rising in your epinephrine levels," The parasite glued to my spine says.

"You are causing the rise in my epine-whatever," I answer back, glancing at Y/N. "I'm not crazy," I repeat, worried she didn't hear me the first time.

Y/N hums before turning on her heels. "People that aren't crazy usually don't have to state it," she peeps out, as her eyes look me up and down. She's now facing me as she takes steady backwards steps. The fuck is she doing this for? She's going to trip or get bumped into or fucking kidnapped easier cause she's not paying attention.

"Subject is waiting for a response," Scarab says, causing me to mentally roll my eyes for the hundredth time today.

"In my defense, you asked," I finally answer back, constantly looking around for any possible threats. Heaven rest my soul if I bring Y/N to the Mount with a scratch or a bruise on her. Nightwing - and then Wally - and then Artemis - and then Batman will skin me alive if she gets hurt in the ten minutes, she's in my care.

"Touche," Y/N says, a bit of a whistle squeaking out with the word. She folds her arms behind her head as she opens her mouth to speak again, "So, Jaime Reyes, what's so big and bad about you?"

Maybe I'm not annoyed with hearing my name today. She should say it again. Why the hell do I want her to say it again? And why the hell did she fold her arms up? That's making the situation even worse. What if she trips? She won't be able to catch herself. "Big and bad?" I ask, a bit confused after I register her words.

"Ya, like why are you a hero and all? What's so special about you that Batman was like 'oh ya this kid can totally beat the shit out of villains'?" She asks, a soft smile gracing her face. A cute, soft smile that I can't enjoy because she can't walk like a normal person, so I have to be aware of every stupid thing including possible rocks on the freakin sidewalk!

" Um... There's an alien parasite on my spine-"

"Jaime Reyes! People should not know about us! This increases our chances of harm!" Just kidding, I'm back to being annoyed at hearing my name.

"- I guess," I finish, mentally rolling my eyes again.

"You guess? There either is or isn't and I feel like you would know," Y/N says before spacing out.

Why is she spacing out? She should be focusing on walking and not tripping! She should be focused on getting to the Mountain unharmed. "Yes, there is one. What's with all the questions?" I ask, getting a little annoyed with her carelessness. Doesn't she realize her safety determines my safety?

"I just like to know who's hanging around my brother and uncles is all," Y/N answers, turning on her heels again to face forward.

'Uncles'?! So, she's related to more than just Nightwing? Who else is her uncle? That's the fucking road! As Y/N is turning around, she steps directly into the street. Panicked, I reach forward and grab the first thing I come in contact. "Be careful!" I yell at her, dragging her back to the safety of the sidewalk. "Nightwing would kill me if you got run over," the words spill out before I can stop them.

I soft smile returns to Y/N's face before she speaks. "One, Nightwing wouldn't kill you. Artemis might but Nightwing would just lecture you and me. And two, there isn't any cars coming so it's not like I would have gotten ran over. You're like super stressed out about this. Why are you stressing so hard?"

"I'm not stressed out," I answer, looking back and forth on the road before tugging Y/N across by her hoodie.

"Subject is correct; You are stressed Jaime Reyes." Ya no shit. My mentor - the Nightwing - entrusted me to walk his niece to the Mountain. His niece who is actively trying to get herself - and me - killed. Nightwing who won't murder me. Oh no, but his teammate - his best friend's girlfriend - will.

"I've known you for like five minutes and you've already lied twice. Batman must be having a field day with you," Y/N says, glancing at me with mischievous eyes.

Oh, ya Batman likes me so much that he hasn't met me. Everyone likes me so much that half of the team can't remember my name. Before I can stop myself, I answer her in anger, "You don't know me. And I've never met Batman, so I don't know what he thinks of me."

Once we're back on the safe sidewalk, I take a chance to check the directions again to ensure we're heading in the right way. "He thinks you have emotional regulation issues," Y/N says, looking at the tree in front of us.

He? Who's he? Is she talking about Batman? The old guy that dressed up as a bat because he can't deal with the loss of his parents thinks I have emotional regulation issues? I glance at Y/N throughout my thoughts before focusing us in the right direction. "Did he really say that?" I ask, even though I know there's no way an adult furry thinks I have issues. I don't have issues. I just have murderous alien technology attached to me.

"Ya, but he didn't mean it in a 'I'm better than everyone' way. It was a more of 'Yo, Nightwing your underling has this issue and here's how to help with it' way I guess."

The fuck does that mean? Once again, before I can stop myself, I answer in anger, "Well Nightwing says you're a reckless air head." He sure was right. Who walks into the road without looking first? What a stupid girl, a stupid person.

"I know I am. I take after Wally," Y/N says softly, lifting up her colored nails again but this time she messes with her hoodie. I'm holding it a lot tighter than I mean too so I drop it, letting her walk freely again. Hopefully, not freely into the road again.

"Ya? You take after Wally in other ways?" I ask her, actually curious if she has superspeed as well. I mean, she has too, right? Her brother is a speedster so why wouldn't she be one too? I take second to double check our direction again before starting the walk back up again. I make sure to grab her wrist instead of her hoodie this time because I'm not confident she won't walk into traffic again.

"Not really. I mean, I have his humor but that's about it," Y/N says from behind me, a sad undertone buried in her words.

I stop walking, taking a second to process her words and trying to get the Scarab to shut up so I can think clearly. From my unwarned stop, Y/N bumps into my back. She feels really warm against me and the smell of vanilla envelopes me. "You're not a speedster?" I ask, glancing behind me to take her in. Her eyes are wide, and cute, and very green. How are they so green?

"Hm?" She asks, looking up at me, slightly softening her face. "Oh, no I'm not. I'm more of a retro hero like Nightwing and Artemis."

Y/N moves herself so she's standing next to me instead of behind me like before. "Why aren't you a speedster? Genetic skip or something?" I ask, continuing to lead her forward again.

"Well, we don't really know how it'll work with Barry and Wally's genetics yet since neither have had kids. Barry got his abilities in a freak accident and then Wally got them by coping said freak accident." What is up with these heroes? Are they all crazy? Am I going to go crazy too?

I stay trapped in my thoughts until we are slap dap in front of the portal tube thing. I think Beast Boy called it a 'zeta tube' or something. "You're really hot," Y/N says before loosening my grip on her and disappearing into the tube thing.

"What?" I ask but she's already gone. I follow her through the phone booth before re-asking my question. Unlucky for me, she's already gone from the training room. At least I lost her in the Mountain, I guess. I stand in the empty room for a second, replaying the moment a couple times. She definitely called me hot. Is that a good thing? It has to be a good thing.

I shake the thought out of my head before walking into the common area of the Mountain. Great, there she is, right there, again. "Jaime!" Nightwing calls. "Good job not losing Y/N on the walk here!" Y/N responses but I don't stick around to hear how it plays out. I spend my time in the Mountain locked away in my assigned room so I could think over the events of the walk and the feelings I'm not sure I'm happy I'm feeling.

—————————————

Today has not been the best day. I'm still a bit off from walking Y/N home yesterday, which drizzled into my day today. Some guys at school were talking about her, well about her hero identity, not her specifically. They were still talking about her though and not very nicely. For whatever reason, I couldn't just let it go and ended up starting a fight about it, which got me a suspension from school. Mama is not going to be thrilled about that.

Nightwing on the other hand, seemed quite amused that I got suspended over his niece. So amused that he asked me to pick her up again. Instead of waiting on the school grounds, I decided to wait outside the school gates. I don't want to be picking up Y/N again. She messes with my head and causes the Scaran to go all haywire.

Before getting thrown out of school for a few days, I talked over yesterday's experience with Paco. He seems to think I have a crush on Y/N. Maybe I do. I don't know. I don't know what I feel or what to think. Nightwing says it's hard to have a relationship wellbeing a hero, but Wally and Artemis have been together for ever and they're heroes. Maybe it would work out since Y/N and me are both heroes too. I don't know.

"Oh, it's you again," Y/N says, poking her head around the gate.

Since I was lost in my thoughts, her sudden appearance manages to scare me. "Self-defense activating," Scarab says, as my armor starts wrapping around me.

"Don't do that," I hiss, keeping my tone low. I don't need Y/N thinking I'm crazy or accidently hurt because Scarab thinks everything is a threat. "It's me again," I say once Scarab chills out. I glance at her, taking in her outfit. She's not wearing a hoodie today so I'm able to take in more of her figure. Her figure that would feel really nice against mine own. What? No, do not think like that. I stand up straight and shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself from touching her like I want too. "You're not wearing a hoodie today," I comment to try and see if she did it on purpose or not.

Y/N's hands wrap around her bookbag straps as she matches my strides. Her hair bounces as she walks, sliding around to frame her face. "Ya, I don't like people using the hood to walk me like a dog," she says, poking at me for my actions yesterday. "You have another half day today?"

It takes me a second to connect what she's saying. I'm too distracted by her hair, and face, and body, and I need to look at something else. I glance around, looking at all the different people and scenery and anything but her. "No."

"Then why are you walking me again? Isn't El Paso like 700 miles away or something?"

El Paso? She knows I'm from El Paso? How does she know that? I didn't tell her that. "2018 Toyota driving at dangerous speeds. Recommendation: abolish vehicle," Scarab says, causing my eyes to snap to the road.

"Let's not do that," I whisper to them, shifting my position so Y/N is further away from the road. "Something like that," I finally answer back, taking a second to process the rest of her statement. "But Mount Justice is even further away from here but it's only a ten-minute walk for us." How does she know I'm from El Paso? Why does she care that I'm picking her up again? Does she like that I'm picking her up again?

"True, but you wouldn't have time to get out of class and get her to pick me up even with the Zeta Tube," Y/N says, moving closer to me.

Is she moving closer on purpose? Why would she be? I look around again and notice a homeless looking man on the street corner. Is that why she's moving closer? "Scarab, can you do a scan of the man over there? See if he has anything dangerous or whatever," I whisper, keeping my eyes on the man.

"Scanning commenced," Scarab says as I move my placement again so I'm between the guy and Y/N.

"What does it matter?" I ask Y/N, glancing down at her for a split second before going back to sizing up the guy. It can't be that hard to take him if he tries anything... I think.

"I found three knives on the subject," Scarab says, popping the images of said knives into my mind. It still trips me out that this thing can do shit like this. In response to Scarab's findings, I wrap my hand around Y/N's wrist. I don't need her starting issues, or getting hurt if this guy starts anything.

"I'm just curious," Y/N says, looking down at her wrist.

Does she like that I'm touching her? "Scarab, can you scan for Y/N's lovey chemical thing?" I whisper, trying to catch a glance at Y/N's face to see how she's reacting. "Curiosity killed the cat," I say, trying to get her to look up again. "Also," I start, letting my own curiosity get to me. "How'd you know I was from El Paso?"

"Barbra mentioned you were from Texas, so I just took a guess at one of the bigger cities within the state."

"Y/N has high levels of phenylethylamine and epinephrine," Scarab answers after their scan finishes.

"And that means what?" I ask, even more confused than normal.

"Phenylethylamine has been nicknamed the 'love chemical' by the human race. Y/N has high levels of said chemical that raised even more after coming in contact with you. Epinephrine is the 'adrenaline' chemical, often present when in distress, lying, or with high blood pressure. Recommendation: Reproduce in order to lower the high levels of phenylethylamine and epinephrine."

What is the issue with this stupid alien? I cannot 'reproduce' with someone I barely know. But that does mean Y/N likes me back, right? Maybe I should ask about what she said yesterday. Maybe I should ask her out. Maybe... or maybe she'll say no. Or maybe she'll say yes and then I'll have a target on my back with half of my own team aiming for it. Or maybe -

"So... you get in trouble at school or something?" Y/N asks, cutting off my thought process.

Or something. "I got suspended," I answer, glancing up and seeing a group of guys heading our way.

"If you plan on being life partners with Y/N I recommend doing it soon. 78% of the group ahead has high levels of phenylethylamine for your protentional partner as well, Jaime Reyes," Scarab says, causing my skin to crawl with anger.

They don't get to like her too. I already know parts of her they'll never get to know, and I've known her two days. No, not allowed. I tug Y/N over so she's standing in front of me. We're so close that she constantly bumps into me. Every time she does, sparks run through my veins. They do not get to be near her. They need to go away. In reaction to my unwarranted anger, Scarab tries to activate my armor again. Maybe Batman is right. Maybe I do have issues controlling my emotions.

I pick up the pace a bit to try and get Y/N away from them sooner and get their attention off of her. They not so secretively check her out as we walk past, which only pisses me off more.

"For what?" Y/N peeps out, looking at me with those big green beanie baby eyes again.

It's hard to hear her over than sound of Scarab trying to justify murdering a group of people. "Cállate. Por favor, cállate tu molesto bicho," I whisper, trying to relax my nervous and calm down. I should not be this jealous. Who cares if a group of Y/N's classmates are checking her out? Not me, I don't care. "Does it matter?" I finally answer her, but it comes out sharper than I meant it too. I really need to chill out.

"Why are you so pissy today?" Y/N asks, matching my snappy tone. "Fror someone that was bitching yesterday about me not knowing them, you're not very open with me."

I look down at her as she looks forward. Frustration is very evident on her face. She looks cute frustrated. With the group being out of sight and no more creepy guys with knives around, I decide it's safe to let her go. I drop my hand from her wrist, and just like yesterday a tinge of sadness fills my chest. I want her to get to know me. I want to me open with her. I want to get to know every inner and outer thing about her. And I really want to see those eyes looking up at me as she spread out on my bed. That's perverted. Like, really perverted.

Y/N's frustration falls from her face as she turns her head. I follow her eyes to see that sitting in a tree next to us is a bright red cardinal. Y/N steps off the sidewalks and slowly walks towards the bird. I stay put, watching her gush over the bird and talk to it like it's a baby. I'm going to ask her about what she said yesterday, I'm going to ask her out, and I'm going to make my perverted thoughts a reality.

"Jaime Reyes, your aphrodisiac levels are raising," Scarab says, once again confusing me.

"You really need to start explaining things to me when you say them."

"The chemical aphrodisiac controls arousal within the human raise."

"So, I'm horny? Really? Didn't notice," I say sarcastically, watching Y/N walk back onto the sidewalk once she's done gushing over the bird. The rest of the walk is silent, but I don't mind. It gives me time to build up my confidence to spit out what I want to say. I couldn't help myself, so I ended up grabbing Y/N's wrist again to walk her the rest of the way.

Once the zeta tube is in front of us, I make sure to keep my grip on Y/N and even go as far as grabbing her other wrist so she can't run off like she did yesterday. "What did you say yesterday?" I ask her, focusing on keeping my eyes on hers and trying not to throw up my nervous. This is either going to go very good or very bad.

#jaime reyes #blue beetle #Jaime Reyes oneshot #blue beetle one shot #young justice #young justice oneshot #jaime reyes x reader #blue beetle x reader

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bringthekaos · 4 months

Note

I don't know if you wanna answer this but I wanna hear your thoughts on this.

We can all agree that Mel Medarda is an amazing character on her own and people shit on her for petty reasons like her getting in the way of a ship and making things up about her. What I wanna know is your thoughts on her.

What I see, I think the relationship between her and Jayce could be tragic on its own cause, to me, it's like Meg and Hercules from Disney. Meg went after Hercules under orders of Hades in exchange for her freedom, only to fall in love with Hercules for real and feels regret for betraying him like so.

While Meg and Mel are different in circumstances, I get the tragedy between them in a way.

Mel probably brought Jayce to a seat at the council and her bed to benefit her in the long run only to slowly care about him over the course of the season.

And that could be what could hurt them. Mel realizes too late she cares about him but can't fully give her love cause of politics (and if s2 goes, war and/or her death) and if Jayce found out that her being intimate with him was just to get him to be her yes man it would shatter Jayce terribly.

From the posts I've seen here, Jayce goes from being a bright and optimistic inventor to a selfish and cold man.

His decaying friendship is already what'd pushing him towards that path. But if he knew Mel's original intentions from say... Swain or herself then it would destroy him.

Sorry for rambling

You can always ramble in my inbox 🥰

I try to be diplomatic in my discussions of Mel, cuz I don’t want anyone to think I don’t like her or that I’m trying to write her off, as a JayVik shipper. I’m critical of Mel, but I’m also critical of Jayce and Viktor. They’re all flawed people, and that’s what makes them great characters. So with that little disclaimer in mind, my thoughts.

The Meg/Hercules comparison is actually so fitting. I think it was all politics for her in the beginning—“we need something to put Piltover on the map. What of today’s trial?”—she was thinking purely as a politician and a businesswoman, and she saw Jayce and his ideas as a good investment. And to cultivate that investment for maximum profit, she also had to play him a little. I don’t think she would see it as manipulation, like the audience tends to, she just read him like an open book; he craved validation and praise, and what’s the harm in stroking his ego?

(And other things)

But just like Meg, I think she started falling for him. His naïveté and softness that started out as a tool for controlling him began to needle at her. She started easing off the gas and trying to protect him as time went on, started taking what was best for him into consideration, for example:

Elora: “I’ve had word from our friends overseas.”

Mel: “It’s too soon. Jayce isn’t ready.”

And I think by the time they slept together, she was falling pretty good. She could see how malleable he was, and how it was turning out to not be such a great thing. Cuz that’s a Pandora’s box—if you can control him, so can others. And then you could lose him, and to someone with far more nefarious motives.

And if Jayce finds out that she was “manipulating” him (or believes that she was) to get him to build weapons that would eventually be shipped out to Noxus so that they might steamroll their enemies? Yeah, I think it would taint their entire relationship. Even if she tried to explain, tried to make him see that maybe it started out that way, but you changed me, you changed my mind. You made me see that the path I was treading was one that lead straight to becoming my mother… I’m not sure he would believe her. It’s the same thing that happened with Daenerys and Jorah Mormont in Game of Thrones—he started out spying on her in a selfish attempt to gain favor in King’s Landing. But he fell for her in the process, ceased his spying, and joined her for good. But when she found out, it soured all the good he did, painted all of it in blood. Cuz you can’t take any of that stuff back, even when you change your ways. You can’t un-betray someone, you can’t un-manipulate them.

And yeah, him losing Viktor and Mel at the same time? It could definitely send him spiraling, send him down a rabbit hole of “I’m the only person I can trust, apparently. Why bother with other people, all they do is betray and leave me.” And while I honestly have a hard time seeing how this sweet cinnamon roll of a Jayce that Arcane has given us could ever go that route… I think we saw it a little bit, in that final scene—the eye roll and “I don’t give a shit what any of you think of me anymore.”

Really I just think Mel is a complex, flawed person who has one of the more weighty instances of character growth in the show. She starts out cold and detached—just playing the game, like she’s been doing for years—and for several reasons, not just her relationship with Jayce, she starts to really think about her actions and their consequences. And I sincerely hope she’s not killed in the explosion, cuz I’d really like to see the conclusion of that arc.

#arcane #jayce talis #arcane Jayce #arcane Mel #Mel Medarda #Arcane Viktor #viktor arcane #asks #ace answers

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blainesebastian · 2 years

Text

mutually assured satisfaction (pt1)

words: 2,278 ship: austin butler x reader summary: reader’s agent approaches her with a PR stunt to date austin butler and promote both their careers. a mapped out plan, an electric relationship–what could possibly go wrong? notes: masterlist is on my sidebar! :) if you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @kittenlittle24

Ever since you wanted to become an actress, you’ve prided yourself on knowing the steps it’d take to make it happen. Some people are lucky, one thing leads to another and they’re on top with the world as their oyster. Everything spread out before them in neatly packed gifts with perfect bows on top. Pure accident leads to having doors automatically opened for them. They know someone in order to make a connection, or their family member is already in the business. Just the right audition at just the right time.

Not for you though. You had to claw your way into existence, into mattering, into finding the right agent and picking the right audition.

You’re making your way and you’re being picky within reason. Some would argue that if you’re lucky enough to get a shot? You take whatever is thrown in your direction. Not you though. You’d rather be able to say no to things, even if it’s not always the smartest option. You’ll humble yourself but you will not grovel for a role, or beg, or trade some sort of favor that you’d regret in the long run just to make a big break. Maybe that’s foolish for Hollywood—you don’t care though.

You know what you can live with at the end of the day.

And the thing is? You’ve done just that. You’ve broken your world wide open with a few films that have been box-office hits—you’ve gained an Instagram following, fans, a loyal agent and a reputation to develop and call all your own. Something that you’re really proud of.

Maybe that’s why it pisses you off so much that in order to guarantee the slingshot of your career, you have to hitch your wagon to Austin Butler.

Your agent breaks it down for you in a way that’s digestible, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. Actors and celebrities alike apparently do shit like this all the time to draw in as many eyes, drama, excitement, or money to their own personal projects as much as possible by creating situations exactly like this. PR stunts—the generation from gossip alone producing attention and interest towards their personal lives and films that they’re working on. This goes against every fundamental bone in your body that wants to make your acting profession on something genuine and yet…projected numbers don’t lie. The movie you’re filming for just isn’t doing as well as you’d have hoped and Austin is taking a leap on this Elvis film by portraying a legend.

Pretending to date one another would create the much needed spark both of you need to simmer a fire for both of your films and careers.

“This is one of the cleanest PR stunts we could do,” Christina, your agent, explains one night over dinner. “Both of you are single, no messy exes, and the projected timeline of your relationship has you breaking up right after his film hits Blu-Ray and yours ends production.”

Crinkling your nose, you push your salad away. This is just…so aggravating. You don’t care how simple it sounds. “This is…” You don’t even have the words. Just because this is something other people have done; does not mean you want anything to do with it. You just can’t believe after all this hard work; you have little to show for it. Other than this elaborate ruse shaping up in the near future.

“It’s a simple transaction,” Christina assures, “I’ve already laid it out with Austin’s agent. He gets the publicity of someone who’s already gotten their feet wet in major films with the promise of a new one coming out, just as successful. You get the no-doubt explosion of his career that comes with the Elvis film and from what I’ve heard? He was born to do this.”

You take in a short breath, pondering everything Christina says very carefully. On paper? This does sound like an opportunity that you shouldn’t pass up. But it all comes down to the fact that you and Austin are human beings that are wrapping yourselves up in one another, pretending to fall in love, date, everything that comes with that. Very purposely pushing yourselves into the public eye.

You just…you haven’t been with someone since your ex broke up with you right at the beginning of your career. There are still wounds from that, scars, regardless that you both have a decent friendship now. And while none of this would be real? Shouldn’t you focus your energy in finding something that is?

Pursing your lips, you curl your hair around your ear. “Would I at least get to talk to him first before this whole thing pops off?”

Christina laughs, taking a sip of her wine. “Of course, that can easily be arranged—you can meet at a coffee shop or something, test the waters, see what he thinks.”

You hum because…you have a feeling that this thing is going to happen whether you approve of it or not. Even though you’re the firm believer that when something looks too good to be true? It probably is. Regardless, it won’t hurt to talk to Austin, see where his head is at, to see if this is even worth doing or if you both can find some common ground.

“Certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s gorgeous,” Christina grins, playfully nudging you underneath the table with the toe of her boot. “I wouldn’t mind at all hangin’ on to him.”

You laugh lightly, shaking your head, looking down at your food and beginning to eat again. Of course that’s Christina’s perspective. But…

Even if you knew exactly what he looked like (you do) and know that he is rather gorgeous looking in a handful of unfair ways (he is), that shouldn’t mean anything. It can’t, right? Nothing about this is going to be real.

So you can’t let that get in the way.

Admittedly, you’re a little nervous for all of this to be happening anyways. Waiting for Austin at an outside table of a bistro, you take a long sip of your coffee and pretend that might quell the jittering you feel in your bones. You’re about two seconds from bolting, you still don’t understand how you let Christina even talk you into this whole plan (or rather, you should say ‘idea’ because there’s not much of a plan or a timeline that you’ve looked at yet beyond one conversation with her). Taking a deep breath of the autumn weather, you attempt to enjoy the cool air, the changing leaves, the way your sweater hugs your form.

And just when you’ve reached that moment of calm, when your heartrate is no longer thrumming against your eardrums, you see Austin cross the street in your peripherals. Chewing on your lower lip, you watch him, eyes grazing over his form.

Upon first look, you can at least admit that he’s gorgeous. There are long lines to his body, an easy muscled-tone to his arms and elsewhere from what you can tell. He’s dressed in a simple pair of jeans, a black leather jacket, a cream-colored sweater underneath paired with some black booties. His legs are ridiculously long and his dirty blonde hair perfectly coifed in a ‘didn’t try very hard’ sort of way. Naturally handsome.

Must be nice.

Once he spots you? he makes a beeline for the table, hovering in front of the seat before giving you a soft smile, “Y/N?”

You nod a little, offering your hand towards the chair to signal he can sit, “Yeah, hi.”

His eyes are a sharp blue as he sits down, running his fingers through his hair when he settles in the chair. He gives you an equal onceover, licking his lips and before you even have a chance to say anything, Austin starts—

“I just want you to know, this was not my idea. M’not even sure we should be doin’ this.” You let out a long breath and nod a little because okay, you can understand that, you’re kinda in the same boat but, “I mean, you’re not exactly my type.”

Your eyes widen a little and you can’t stop the astonished laugh from leaving your lips because excuse me? “Well you’re not exactly checkin’ all the boxes for me either, Austin.”

He winces, shaking his head, “That’s…not what I meant.” Austin looks away, a muscle working in his jaw and okay…you’re attempting to give him the benefit of the doubt because you can tell he’s nervous, annoyed, definitely out of his element with all this but…so are you? And you’re not lowkey insulting him at the same time.

“I just meant,” He clears his throat, trying again, “I was tryin’ not to date anyone else in the celebrity scene.”

You raise your eyebrows because that’s…interesting. So what, Austin wanted to find someone, for a lack of a better word, normal? Someone completely disconnected from acting, from modeling, Hollywood? It’s ambitious but the reason celebrities usually date in their own circles is because it’s hard to find anyone else that understands the things they do for the day to day, or work, or obligations. There are rare cases, sure, but Austin’s popularity is only going to explode outward from his role in Elvis. This whole ‘normal life’ thing he’s trying to pursue? You just don’t see it happening.

Second of all? “You do know this is fake, right?” Austin gives a short laugh, mostly through air leaving his nose, “Which means dating me is not gonna count towards the whole ‘celebrity scene’.”

He gives you this look, this intensity from his blue eyes as he drums his fingers on the table of the bistro. It says without so many words: I don’t want to be dating you at all, which, whatever. That’s fair. You’re not exactly thrilled that you have to throw yourself all over him and pretend to be in love.

You’d much rather, like him, go after something real. But if they didn’t equally need to do this? They wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Their agents might know better…and you trust Christina. Which makes you clamp down on anything else wanting to come out of your mouth about the aggravating commentary coming from Austin.

Rolling your shoulders back with a soft sigh, you count to five before taking a look at him again—he really is easily beautiful, you can see how he’d make a great Elvis.

“Look, I don’t like it either, but it doesn’t change the fact that we need one another.” You don’t think he’ll deny that at least. His agent might have had a similar chat with him but at the end of the day, Austin is his own person as much as you are. He wouldn’t have showed up unless he knows the same thing you do: mutual destruction, mutual advantages.

Austin nods—the tiniest acknowledgement that you’re on the same page. You hum, opening up an email on your phone of the timeline that Christina sent you to look over. You draw your thumb along the screen, attempting to get the bare-bones breakdown.

“Alright so—looks like a few months? Five.” You clarify, “It covers the end of my movie filming and the premiere of Elvis. A few red-carpet events, invitation parties,” You shrug, seems simple enough, “And the rest is just out and about, on ‘dates’, making sure we’re seen.”

Austin runs a hand through his hair as he listens, leaning back against the chair. He seems lost in thought for a few moments even though he’s paying attention to you, eyes grazing along the outside of the bistro, city life playing out around you both as if you’re invisible for once. Just normal people having lunch. You figure that’ll change—the more you disrupt the flow of how things happen, the more attention you and him will automatically gain.

Which means hidden paps, sneaked photos, candid and purposely leaked.

It all sounds like some big elaborate movie within itself.

“My agent mentioned somethin’ about a backstory?” Austin asks, looking over at you.

Humming you click open another email, “Yeah, apparently you and I have been flying in the same circles for the past month and just haven’t realized it.” That part was true—the same kind of parties, events…apparently it won’t be hard to generate rumors from there, that you two were ‘seeing’ one another or at least interested this entire time.

“This upcoming weekend we’re supposed to come out as a couple—some press for Elvis.”

Austin nods, running his hand along his jawline. “Standard black tie; m’sure my agent can get you the details.”

You blink at him because…details, right. This black-tie event will definitely not be your first rodeo, you can handle it. “What—in case you want to match or something?” You throw out there, smiling just a little. “Pick a color swatch like we’re goin’ to prom?”

Austin smirks, “Wouldn’t hate to see you in red.”

A blush annoyingly kisses your cheeks at the compliment and you shake your head as he stands from the chair.

“So we’re doin’ this?” He asks, pausing.

You take in a soft breath before nodding. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

Offering you a small wave and a promise to see you soon, you watch as Austin walks off from the table, crossing the street again to leave. You have no idea what you expected but it certainly wasn’t that.

This is either gonna be a great stunt that benefits the both of you or it’s gonna blow up in your faces.

Let's just see how good of an actor Austin is.

Ahhh! There’s part 1, hope you all liked :) thanks for reading

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #mas series #mas

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marsbar17 · 9 months

Note

Hi! So we both know Revenant would never admit feelings, but he'd show it in his own way. What about a thing where it finally clicks in the readers mind and confronts him about it :3

Honestly I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you don't mind that I made it sort of unrequited, really depends on how you look at it though.

CONTAINS: Nothing nsfw, just some anger and yelling, and gun fights

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being in the presence of Revenant was always terrifying. You could practically feel murderous intent dripping off of his every word as he talked. He only helped people when it was beneficial to him, only saving people so they could have his back later on. So, you assumed you must be very helpful to him, and it terrified you. He always picked you back up, handed you shields and syringes, and pointed out ammo you could take. All so you could save his skin later on, right? It wasn't for your sake, surely. He must have some plan for you. Somehow, he would use you to better himself. Why else would he do it?

"There's light ammo here, come get it before you run out." Revenant grumbled, pointing it out before staying in the area while you came to get it. How did he know you only had 9 bullets left? You had no clue. Either way you were grateful for the loot, and told him so.

"Thanks, who knew you could be thoughtful for once."

"You can't survive without bullets, and I need a full team to win." Of course his answer was bitchy, what did you expect? For the Revenant to be nice one time in his life? Dream on.

It was duos, half the teams were gone, and the ring wasn't in your favor. Closing in 10 seconds and across the whole fucking map? Yeah, not in your favor in the slightest. You quickly topped up your r-99 and tucked the rest of the bullets in your backpack.

"It's time to go unless you wanna wake up in the medbay with 3rd degree burns." You said into the mic in your ear, and the only response from your teammate was grumpy mumbling before you saw him start the dash to the ring. Rolling your eyes, you slung your gun across your back and followed. The jog to the ring was long, and it gave you time to think. Too much time to think.

As your mind was occupied with thoughts of Revenant and what he could possibly want with you, you didn't process the gunshots slowly getting louder. Seems like a couple squads were fighting, right at the border of the ring. Great. You would've ran straight into the line of fire if a hand didn't grab your backpack and pull you into a building.

"Stop zoning out, you're gonna get yourself killed." The familiar voice of a murderous simulcran said behind you. He had pulled you into a small house, sitting you down on a box against the wall. He put his hands on your shoulder, cold, drawing you back to the present.

"I wasn't zoning out, I meant to do that." You crossed your arms, turning to look out a window at one of the teams crouched behind a wall. Your heart raced, fully realizing that if Revenant hadn't grabbed you you would've been dead within seconds of them spotting you.

Why? Obviously he wanted to keep you alive, but you thought the satisfaction of seeing you shot to pieces and being able to nag you about it later would've overshadowed that. No time to think, there were more footsteps approaching the house. You pulled out your r-99, but your sight was blocked by a big metal body.

"Rev!" You whisper shouted. "You're blocking my view!"

"I'm protecting you, dumbass." He whispered over his shoulder, raising his own flatline and aiming at the door. You were stuck, if you stood you'd be pressing against Revenants metal back, if you stayed sitting you'd have no line of sight of the enemy. Ah fuck it, you stayed sitting, but held your gun at the ready anyways.

Well you ended up dying anyways. Bangalore and Newcastle ended up barging in and annihilating Revenant before dealing with your now exposed form. Stupid soldier siblings. You woke up in the medbay, muscles aching but otherwise no injuries. By the door of the room stood Revenant, leaning against a wall. Closing the curtain around your bed, you changed out of the paper thin gown they gave everyone and into your casual clothes.

"Waiting for someone?" You asked, opening the curtain and walking towards the door.

"Waiting for you." There he goes again, with his caring words. You bet they meant nothing to him, he didnt know how weird it sounded.

"I already know I fucked it up for us, there's no need to yell at me." You walked past him, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. He followed, not walking beside you like a normal person but behind you by a few steps.

"I'm not here to yell at you."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you've got a fucking screw loose or something. You're being really weird, you help me out, you block me from gunfire, you show up not to yell at me? You’re acting like you actually fucking care about me... wait."

And then it hit you. You'd said it as a joke, but it was seeming more and more like the truth. Surely not though. That was just the part of your brain that saw him as a human, right? He doesn't care. He doesn't care. He can't care. It's not what he does. He doesn't care.

Revenant was weirdly silent during your haze of confusion. You expected something like "don't flatter yourself, skingbag," but he said nothing. Like he was ashamed to admit you were right, but didn't want to deny it either. It just made you overthink even more. He doesn't care, surely. He can't care. He doesn't feel love. He can't be in love with you. But he was, his silence conveyed that.

"This is wrong. This isn't what's supposed to happen. You don't love me. Tell me you don't love me. Tell me now! TELL ME!" Your confrontation had turned to yelling as he continued to stay silent. Thank god the hallway was empty. "Rev," you sighed out his name as you calmed down. "Tell me you don't love me."

"I can't lie to you." His voice echoed in the hallway, and you just couldn't stand it any longer. You turned away from him and walked away to your room.

"Just stop loving me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Requests are always appreciated and really help me out with writing. So please request anything on your mind! Thank you for reading!

#apex legends #apex revenant #revenant #kaleb cross #writing #mentioned bangalore #mentioned newcastle #unrequited love #please request #i need ideas #:)

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rlyc00l · 3 months

Text

Rhys gets to know his new "team" as he tries to get a handle on his potentially profitable (but let's be real, most likely fatal) situation. Claptrap is irritating. A certain helmet-wearing asshole seems intent on making things difficult.

Hi guys I had a few chapters basically ready to go (mostly laid out and just needing some editing) and you know what? I'm just gonna post them as they're ready.

EDIT: Chapter also under the break!

———— A few of Rhys’s new bandit companions had taken it upon themselves to haul out the corpses and body parts that littered the place. Rhys would have offered to help, but corpses were pretty gross and he had claimed himself a nice warm spot by the furnace.

He wasn’t the only one not participating, that first one he’d met–who he’d started mentally referring to with the inventive nickname of “Helmet Asshole”–ignored the corpses in favor of rifling through cabinets, boxes, and shelves, occasionally pocketing ammo or whatever else they found. The big, masked bandit sat beside the fire, holding his hands nearly inside the flames. And the Claptrap rolled around, complaining about his missing eye and bumping into things.

As the others finally settled in for the night, Rhys found it impossible to fall asleep, lying there on the hard metal floor. Nearby, the fire crackled, the Claptrap whirred, one of the bandits snored, and the big one murmured to himself. Sighing, he rolled onto his back and opened a map on his ECHOeye interface. There had to be a way back to Helios–some Hyperion outpost or something.

Or, nothing. There was nothing. Nothing in any direction, for miles. Just ice and a few abandoned villages, some marked “Bandit Infested”. Silently, Rhys apologized to Handsome Jack for ever doubting his propaganda. It seemed his only choice was to stick with this pack of bandits who, for now, had decided against killing him. He could figure things out as he went. Every trial was an opportunity in disguise, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that how that motivational poster went? The one with Handsome Jack, standing on the corpse of the Destroyer.

This was the planet that made Jack the man he was, after all. He could prove himself here. If these bandits were important enough that Jack wanted them dead, this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

Rhys sat up, confirming everyone was asleep before activating his ECHOeye and scanning the soldier, sleeping a few feet away. Axton. Ex-Dahl commando, dishonorable discharge. War criminal. Five billion reward. Surely Jack would pay a percentage of that for his location. Maybe, Rhys would find a chance to covertly ECHO into Hyperion without alerting the bandits. Jack himself would send down soldiers and a ride back home. If Rhys survived, he’d live a long life as the second richest man on Helios. Next, he scanned the short one–Salvador–who slept propped up against a wall, snoring. Salvador was a Pandoran native with a long list of crimes, cannibalism among them. A 720 billion bounty. If Rhys were a stronger man, this room would practically be an Eridium mine. But there was no fooling himself, he stood no chance in a fight. No, he’d just scan them, one by one. His ECHOeye history would serve to prove to Hyperion that he was in close proximity to them.

Next, Helmet Asshole. He’d seen them situate themself further from the others, on a couch against the wall, or…Wait, where’d they go? He looked around the room. Gone.

Had they moved on alone? Fine by him, that was one less bandit.

Rhys sat up enough to see the teenager. It was hard to feel good about the prospect of selling out a kid, but sacrifices had to be made.

Gaige. A high school senior right out of Eden-5, tech-wiz, and total nerd, built a killer robot that murdered another student.

Too bad, she could have made something of herself in Hyperion. Her bounty was 820 billion, leaving Rhys to wonder how they came up with these numbers. If he could take any of these bandits in a fight, it was the teenager. Her crappy, bargain bin cybernetic arm looked homemade.

Then there was the big guy, still murmuring to himself. He tossed and turned as he slept, the other sleepers had given him a wide berth.

Krieg. “Property of Hyperion”. That gave Rhys pause. He’d heard the rumors, bandits and incompetent employees alike dragged off to laboratories on Pandora for unethical experiments. The guy looked like the product of that sort of thing. It was hard not to pity him, but listening to the murmurings of “No…flayed her shining jugular…wear your face as a hat…ribcage tied into knots…” Okay, right, whatever he was, probably best off with Hyperion now. A hundred billion.

Maya. She seemed human, almost normal, despite threatening him. She’d stood up for him and helped him out. Even so–

“What are you doing?” Helmet Asshole materialized out of previously empty space, looming over him. In a swift motion, they crouched, their eponymous helmet a foot away from his face.

Rhys shut off the ECHOeye. “Nothing, I–” They grabbed his chin, forcibly turning his head to face them as they leaned closer. “An ECHOeye. No surprise. / You were scanning them.”

He glanced sideways. Everyone was still sleeping, Helmet Asshole had been keeping their voice down. “And what the hell were you doing?” he hissed.

“Doesn’t concern you. / You’re the Hyperion stooge. / Will you sell us out?”

Rhys hesitated. “Look, I-I’m just trying to get my bearings here. They pointed guns at me. I needed to find out who I’m dealing with.”

They considered for a moment, releasing his face. It ached where they’d held him. “Understandable. / Was there anything of note? / I would like to know.”

He looked at them, doubting he’d heard right. “I mean, they’re all dangerous wanted murderers? I-I don’t know what you’re looking for. No entries saying ‘they’ll kill you in your sleep’ but…”

“Nothing useful?” “Depends on your definition of useful.”

They sighed and projected something blindingly bright in his face, Rhys turned away from the glare.

“It’s of no matter,” they said, standing. “I will warn you. Sell me out, / And I’ll have your head.”

“Right. I will definitely not do that.” Red light was still dancing in his vision.

They stood and returned to their couch, lying down with their legs hanging over the end. There’d be no way of knowing when they fell asleep. No more scanning, then. He lay back, closing his eyes.

———

“Wake up, my loyal minions! You have a bullymong to kill and a fearless leader to avenge!” It was still dim when the Claptrap began zipping around again, running into anyone too slow to get out of the way, occasionally letting out an “oof” or “ow.” The others woke with groggy protests and threats. “Knuckle-Dragger won’t know what hit him! It’ll be bullets and lots of them! Presumably! I guess it could also be swords, or fists, or a hatchet, or a really big stick, or…” Rhys was sore, hungry, and tired. Never had he wanted to murder anything so bad as he wanted to murder that stupid loud robot. He half-expected one of the bandits to do him a favor in that regard, impulsive as bandits were known to be, but none of them stepped up to the task.

They were soon all out the door, and onto the bright, icy tundra. Helmet Asshole quickly got ahead of them, as did the blinded Claptrap. Sometimes, someone would warn it before it fell off a ledge or ran into something, but more often, they just let it happen.

Before long Krieg was rushing after the robot, kicking up snow and laughing with his buzzaxe raised high, never bringing it down to smash the thing’s head in.

“Wait! I found your larynx putrefying on the rocks! Why aren’t you suffocating?!”

His movements were as erratic. Every once in a while he’d stop suddenly, twitching or smacking himself, sometimes delivering an intense one-eyed stare to one of the others. Rhys was on the receiving end of most of those.

“Hey, uh, aren’t guys like him kind of murder-happy and extremely unpredictable?” Rhys asked Maya, keeping his voice low after the third murderous-looking glare in the past half hour.

“Like your boss?”

“I…I guess. Former boss, for the record.” Rhys ignored the urge to defend Jack’s decisions regarding murder. “But I mean, is it safe having him around?”

“I think everyone’s wondering the same thing about you.” “I’m not waving around a buzzaxe and yelling about larynxes.” “Fair, but Krieg seems to be pretty in control of everything but his mouth. More or less.”

“He keeps looking at me like he wants to rip out my spine.”

Maya shrugged. “From what I can gauge, Hyperion did that to him. Can you blame him? He helped me out earlier, and he was the first one to decide not to kill you. Perhaps you should be more open-minded?”

“No, I think maybe you’re being too open-minded,” Axton cut in from behind, stepping in beside Rhys. “That guy’s been filled chock full of eridium. People like that? Ticking time bombs. He’s second place on the list of guys who’ll probably kill us in our sleep. You’re third, by the way, Reeze.” He grinned as he said it.

“It’s Rhys, and uh…” He gave a choked chuckle, trying to figure out if the guy was joking or not. “I’m not planning to? Uh, who’s first? On that list.”

“That would be Zer0.” He gestured to Helmet Asshole, walking alone, far out of earshot. They seemed to glide across the snow while the rest trudged through it. “If I were Jack, I would have hired them to finish us off. Creepy bastard.” Rhys watched them. They were near the Claptrap. The robot was chattering at them, giving the others a blessed break from its voice. “I mean, to be fair, they had ample opportunity to kill me after the train crashed.” He said it half to reassure himself.

Axton laughed. “Huh, wonder why not, Hyperion.”

“Hey, if Jack meant for me to play double agent, he wouldn’t have tried to blow me up.”

“Yeah, I don’t get that. Why not kill you normally?” It was the first time Gaige had bothered acknowledging Rhys since their first encounter–until now she’d just been giving him quick, suspicious looks. “You don’t look hard to kill.”

“Make it look like an accident, I guess? He didn’t want to martyr me. My whole division might have rebelled.” It was a good question, now that he considered it. Maybe Vasquez’s traditional airlock method would get him in trouble unless he tore out all of Rhys’s cybernetics. Vasquez wasn’t patient enough for those surgical procedures. “I was speaking out against what Jack’s been doing here, on Pandora. And subtly influencing things, y’know? Di-diverting shipments, sabotaging production, stuff like that.” That sounded pretty good.

“Wow, that’s almost respectable. I mean, not as much as you know, not working for Hyperion in the first place, but good on you, I guess?” Gaige said.

“Hey, I had to make a living somehow, and I’m not exactly Dahl-soldier material.”

“You shoulda killed someone,” Salvador caught him by surprise from below his field of vision. The man was a little over five feet tall and nearly as wide–all of it muscle. Something about him was more intimidating than even Krieg. “I woulda killed someone. Preferably Jack.”

“I uh, yeah, I guess I should have… To be fair, I didn’t get a chan–”

He was interrupted by the Claptrap’s shrill cry. Up ahead, the bot was in its panic mode, its limbs retracted as it shuddered in simulated terror. A bullymong, near the same size as Salvador, was charging toward it. At least a dozen more were climbing out of burrows in the nearby ice wall.

The bandits had drawn their weapons before Rhys processed what was happening. Backing away, he glimpsed Zer0, appearing in the first bullymong’s path. Salvador wielded a pair of guns, laughing and firing both with little regard for Krieg, who ran straight through the line of fire without slowing.

“Ah! The meat delivery is here!” Krieg shouted, swinging his buzzaxe into the nearest foe.

Rhys didn’t see where Gaige or Axton had gone to, nor did he know how everyone got so far from him so fast, but he found himself alone in the open.

One of the bullymongs, repelled by Salvador’s gunfire, chose him as an easier target. Remembering the stun rod, he yanked it from his belt, barely managing to activate it before the creature reached him. He jabbed at it, unleashing a jolt of electricity into its shoulder. It let out a pained roar, but didn’t let up. It began to circle him from a distance, testing for an opening. Turning, he kept the stun rod between him and the bullymong. It stepped forward, he jabbed in its direction, it backed away, then tried again. Rhys was feeling good about this, he’d just keep it up until–

Something crashed into him from behind, knocking him face-first into the snow. A second bullymong. It stood on his back, one oversized hand clamped around his arm, another pushed his head down. He turned the stun rod in his hand and jabbed backward. Empty air. The creature roared. Rhys felt its breath on his scalp, saliva dribbling into his hair.

Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshit–

All at once, the weight lifted from him. He rolled over in time to see the bullymong floating above him, surrounded by a strange energy. Then Krieg drove his buzzaxe into it, spattering both himself and Rhys in hot gore. The bullymong’s limp body was thrown off to the side.

Sitting up and looking around, he saw the other bullymong lying already dead in front of him, Maya standing over it. Her tattoos seemed to glow. Elsewhere the gunfire had ceased, the fighting had finished.

He shakily got to his feet, heart still pounding. “You gonna be alright?” Maya asked. The glow had already faded.

He gave a weak nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m great. I’m just… I’m great.” He thought he might throw up, but he’d try to hold off on that for now. Nothing felt broken, at least. He wiped his face on his sleeve and brushed loose snow from his clothes. Some of it had melted into the fabric when he’d fallen, and some of that had already frozen again. Hopefully, they’d find somewhere warm soon.

“Ah! Sweet treats from the flesh pinata!” Krieg was absolutely riddled with bullet holes, but he gave Rhys the happiest look a single visible eye could muster.

“Is he gonna be okay?”

Maya looked Krieg up and down, a hand on her hip. “He doesn’t seem to be dying anytime soon. How you feeling, big guy?”

“Ten thousand decapitations!”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Looks like we walked right into a nest,” he heard Axton say. “I’m like, ninety percent sure these are human bones…Oh yeah, that’s definitely someone’s skull.”

There were little scattered piles of bullymong refuse, mostly bones, sometimes a bit of fur. Something shiny and yellow gleamed in a nearby pile. A halfway-decent Hyperion pistol. Exactly what Rhys needed–next time he could defend himself.

He approached, only to have Zer0 once again materialize in front of him. They bent over, picked up the gun, and turned it in their hands with a “Hmm…” Their helm projected an ellipses.

“Hey uh, can I have that? I’m feeling a little vulnerable here, with just this.” He raised the deactivated stun rod.

“You know how to shoot?” they asked.

“It’s Hyperion, it’s made so anyone can pick it up and shoot.” That was one of their advertising lines, at least. It didn’t seem that hard to figure out. “It’s as good a time as any to learn, right?”

They looked at him and back at the gun. “Next time, you should move faster.” The pistol evaporated into particles as they deconstructed it into their storage deck. A slashed zero projected from their helmet. “If you live that long.” They turned away, leaving Rhys scrambling for an insult he couldn’t find. “Oh, come on!” he shouted after them. “You didn’t even want that!”

———

Somehow, Rhys survived the rest of the day’s trek. The group encountered two smaller packs of bullymongs before it ended. Absurdly, the value of Rhys’s life seemed to be a rung lower than the Claptrap’s, but if he stayed close to the bot he was equally protected.The tactic struck him as pathetic when everyone else was more than capable of defending themselves. Worse, it gave the Claptrap the opportunity to bother him, and that stupid little bot had exceptional hearing.

“Wimping out, eh? Don’t feel too bad, chum, we all gotta start somewhere! Except me, I was built with the courage of ten men! But as for you, I’m sure you’ll find your courage if you don’t die horribly. Which probably won’t happen–or wait, what temperature do humans freeze to death at? Ah, well, nothing you can do if that happens. I guess you also have to worry about all the bullets, and the…”

Rhys fought the temptation to try his ECHOeye on the thing, see if he could mute it. Who knew what malware a defunct idiot robot had on it? At least the blindness allowed him to sneak away as soon as the danger subsided. It made him wonder why they were even bothering to hunt down the thing’s eye. Was a blind Claptrap so bad? Besides the being-a-Claptrap part?

When they stopped for the night to make camp, Zer0 rejoined the group.

“I’ve spotted its tracks. / It has passed through recently. / We’ll need to keep watch.”

“You wanna give us any specific details, or do ya gotta stick to seventeen syllables?” Axton asked. “Like, you know, where’s it headed, how long ago, that kind of thing?”

They gave him a look that seemed meant as a glare before sitting near the fire. “Is there food?” they more demanded than asked.

“Salvador’s working on it,” Gaige said.

Dinner was to be the meaty arms of a bullymong that Krieg had buzzsawed off. It didn’t look edible, but both Krieg and Salvador insisted it was good. Or, in the former’s case, that it “Hole punches your bloodied tongue!” said with the kind of enthusiasm that made it sound positive.The latter was cooking one of the limbs over the fire. It smelled like pork with a trace of burnt plastic. Rhys hadn’t eaten for the better part of two days. He was hungry enough to risk…toxins, or whatever.

When it was cooked, though, he found himself almost equally concerned with watching Zer0 as he was with chewing the tough, strange meat. He wasn’t alone in this, he realized. Everyone but Krieg and the Claptrap were snatching glances, apparently wondering if they’d see what was underneath the helmet. But Zer0 only walked away with their portion, vanishing behind a jagged chunk of ice.

“Anyone up to following them?” Axton asked.

“I suspect they’re the type to kill you if you see their face,” Maya gave a shrug, her attention returning to her meal.

“The curiosity is gonna kill me on its own. I mean, what if they’re a robot or something, and we’re wasting food?”

“They were bleeding, before,” Rhys put in. “After the train blew up.”

“Puncture the skinsuit! Make it pop!” Krieg was shoving bits of meat up through the bottom of his mask, also denying the others a view of his face. He was at least clearly human, mutated as he may be.

“Eh. Probably just super ugly,” Salvador said through a mouth full of bullymong.

———

Rhys was spared from keeping watch that night. Maybe there was something to being a weak Hyperion stooge, it meant a few hours’ extra rest.

It was still dark when he woke shivering. Somewhere, something howled raucously. He sat up, looking around. Thankfully, the Claptrap was in sleep-mode, and the others were asleep. Except for Zer0. They stopped pacing the camp to look at him. He gave them a slight wave. They went back to pacing without so much as a second glance. They reminded Rhys of a big cat at a zoo, waiting to be fed.

His ECHOeye told him it was 12:22 AM. Zer0 should have ended their watch and woken Maya hours ago. He hadn’t seen them sleep at all.

“Are those more bullymong?” he asked when Zer0 was near again. “They sound really close.”

They stopped, gave a nod. He noticed they were shivering. They were so lanky, even compared to him. How well insulated from the cold could they possibly be? He’d feel bad for them if they hadn’t been such an asshole.

“Should we be worried?” “I never worry. / If they venture near enough, / My blade will find them.”

“Right...” Geez, edgelord much?

They cocked their head, thoughtfully. “Though, perhaps you should. / If you fall a second time. / You may not be saved.”

“You could have let me have the gun.” “I could have.”

He lay back down. “Your watch is up, you know?” Rhys had years of experience dealing with assholes, he’d learned to be professional about this sort of thing.

“Yes.”

“You should probably sleep, right?”

“I need little sleep. / The others will miss something. / I will stay awake.”

That seemed slightly insulting to the other’s abilities, but at least Zer0 wasn’t only a condescending dick to Rhys. He considered pointing out their place on Axton’s “Most likely to kill us in our sleep” list, but thought better of it. Might give them ideas.

#borderlands #zerhys #borderlands 2 #tftbl #zer0 the assassin #rhys strongfork #decepti0n

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