#anyways yes i have finally started listening to knocked loose

[steakrogers]

tell me why i should have to

explain myself ?

[natalievoncatte]

Lena could feel the weight in her hand. A little extra swing in her fist as she walked, sending a jolt up her arm as she jogged up the steps to Kara’s apartment. She’d decided to walk today, to clear her head a little as she went to see her best friend. She had a lot on her mind lately- usual Luthor stuff like defusing random death traps that Lex left behind, fending off attempts to dethrone her as CEO and challenge her status as he brother’s heir, and cures for intractable diseases and solutions for the energy crisis and thorny ethical issues around the advance project department’s latest AI experiments… and Kara.

Kara was on her mind. She had a way of sneaking into Lena’s mind at the most inopportune moments, like a board meeting, or a symposium, or her TED talk. It was really a TEDx talk; the organization wasn’t *quite* ready to invite Lena to the real deal, no matter how many photo ops she did with Supergirl or cancer research facilities she paid for. That didn’t stop Kara from following her around saying “thanks for listening to my Ted talk” for three weeks after the fact.

She had been thinking about Kara so much that it had finally been noticed. Sam flew in from Metropolis earlier that week for a catch up lunch, and as usual, after business was handled they shared a bottle of wine and things grew informal.

“Lena,” Sam said. “I’ve been talking for five minutes and you’ve been holding that glass of rosé and staring at it for the entire time. What’s going on?”

Lena almost dropped the glass when she heard her name. “Oh, right. Yes. Wine.”

She took a sip, hoping Sam would drop her question, but she persisted.

“I know that look. You were miles away. What is it? Did the cure for cancer pop into your head?”

“No,” Lena said. “It’s nothing, I was just lost in thought.”

“Mmm,” said Sam. “I’m sure.”

“What?”

Sam smiled enigmatically and finished her wine. “I’d better get going. I’m taking a red eye back to Metropolis.”

“Sam, you’re flying on a Lexcorp charter. It doesn’t work that way.”

Sam snorted and left Lena sitting there, wondering what that was about. Of course she’d been daydreaming about Kara, about her hands specifically- she’d nodded off last weekend and woke to see Kara at her ease, brow furrowed and hands moving wildly as she painted something. Lena had remained still and watched, fascinated by Kara’s hands, the skill and dexterity she showed.

It was that day that Kara had passed her the key she now carried in her hand. A key to Kara’s apartment. Unfettered access. Lena didn’t have to knock (she would anyway) and could stop by when Kara wasn’t even there. She hadn’t said anything but she’d been holding back tears the entire ride home; Lena had no problems with *access*, but trust was another matter. That was what the key was. It was a talisman of trust, Kara’s confidence in her given form.

Lena did knock before she turned the key and swung the door open. She was expected, but part of her worried that Kara wouldn’t be alone. It seemed odd to Lena that Kara hadn’t started dating again- her best friend had taken the whole Mon-El thing very poorly, and it was bizarre to begin with, so Lena understood why she’d stay single for a while, but it had been years.

Years of kindling a soft, secret hope, a desire so fragile and so brittle that Lena rarely dared think of it, afraid that the tiniest brush of longing would crumble it and with it break something inside her permanently.

The apartment smelled like cookies. Burnt cookies. Kara was in the kitchen, brow furrowed, bent in concentration over a cookbook, eyes darting to a mixing bowl. Foul smelling attempted cookies practically filled the garbage can.

“Hey,” Kara said, cheerfully. She gave Lena a soft, gentle smile that seemed only for her, and brushed a loose gold curl from her eyes. “You’re early.”

“I wanted more Kara time,” said Lena. “I was hoping to get a few minutes alone with you before the few shows up. Just us.”

Kara looked at her curiously, then turned to her project.

“I can’t get this right. I cream the sugar like it says, but they keep coming out wrong.”

Lena moved closer, stopping her hand from seeking the small of Kara’s back. When she saw the carton of cream on the counter, she busted out laughing so hard she snorted.

“What?” said Kara.

“Darling, you don’t put actual cream in it. Here, let me help you.”

For the next half hour, Lena and Kara made cookie dough, laboriously, by hand. Every step brought them closer together, literally. By the time they were scooping out evenly sized blobs of it together, they were hip to hip, both floured and sugared, hands greasy with butter.

“I’ll pop them in the oven,” said Kara. “You go clean up and relax.”

“Alright,” Lena said.

She ended up on the couch. Game night would begin hours later, and Lena turned on a nature documentary. (She had her own distinct username on Kara’s Netflix.)

Lena must have dozed off, because the alarm on the oven, along with a warm, pleasant, homey smell, woke her up. She padded on her stocking feet into the kitchen to see how the cookies came out.

Kara had already taken them out and was holding the tray, hot from the oven. Something was off. It nagged at Lena’s mind.

Then it hit her. Kara seemed to realize at the same time.

She wasn’t wearing oven mitts. No heating pad. Not even a dish towel. Kara was holding the hot tray, fresh from the oven, in her bare hands.

Lena yelped. “Kara! You’ll burn yourself!”

Kara started to move. A cry rose on her lips, then died. She stared at Lena with such softness, her eyes full of hesitation, but more than that, a kind of longing that echoed Lena’s own soul.

“I’m tired of lying to you,” Kara said, still holding the tray. “It doesn’t hurt. I can barely feel it.”

They stood for a frozen moment that lasted an eternity, the truth just on the wrong side of revealing itself. Lena already knew, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. Say it.

“You’re Supergirl,” Lena whispered, soft and breathy.

Kara nodded, starting to choke up. She put the tray down almost violently and stepped back.

“I’ll understand if you need time, if you’re angry, if you don’t want to continue our friendship-“

She didn’t finish her ramble. Lena crossed the space between them in three quick steps, firmly took Kara’s face between her palms, and kissed her.

Pure terror gripped her. What if she was wrong? What if this was a mistake? Why wasn’t Kara moving, responding, reacting?

That question responded when hands that could crush diamonds moved her her body with surpassing tenderness, turning the awkward kiss into something more, Kara guiding Lena as their bodies molded together and Kara kissed her back with hopeful desperation, drawing it out as if she was afraid to let it end for fear it might never be repeated.

It was, intimately and immediately. Lena was shocked but pleased when Kara let Lena push her back against the counter, bending her back lightly, almost climbing her. Kara almost shocked Lena when her hand slid up her side and found her breast even as Lena grabbed a double handful of steely buns and squeezed.

Then someone coughed and they jerked apart.

Alex stood by the door, arms folded.

“I’m going to go ahead and text the others so they know game night is cancelled,” she said, smirking. “Next time, hang a sock on the doorknob or something.”

“This is my house,” said Kara.

Alex rolled her eyes. “I’m leaving now.”

As the door slammed shut, and Alex could plainly be heard blurting, “Jesus Christ,” Lena turned back to Kara.

“Should we talk?” she said, her voice small. “What is this? What are we doing?”

Kara swallowed, hard. “What do you want it to be, Lena?”

Lena couldn’t answer. She just stared.

“I know what I want it to be,” said Kara. “I want us to be an us. I’m so tired of wanting you so bad it hurts, but being scared to touch you a certain way or look too long or too openly or be afraid I’ll say the wrong thing. I’m tired of hiding so much from you.”

Lena licked her lips.

“The truth is, I’ve wanted you for years.”

Kara’s gorgeous eyes lit up with unbridled delight, and with shocking quickness, Kara had Lena in a bridal carry. Lena instinctively curled up in her arms, practically wrapping herself around Kara’s body.

“What do you want to do now?” said Kara. “I don’t know how to do this part, Lena.”

Lena smiled. “I think what you do now is carry me back in the bedroom and cream your sugar.”

“You want to make more cookies? Why… oh.”

“Oh indeed,” said Lena.

Lena didn’t make a habit of it, but this one time, she let Kara talk her into cookies for breakfast.

[experimentfae]

Vox x Fem! Overlord!Reader

Oneshot / angst / fluff

You let out a sigh remembering just a couple days ago that you finally had the guts to tell you’re feeling towards alastor, after knowing each other in life and now afterlife you hoped it would go as you planned but of course it didn’t go that way’

“I’m sorry dear but… I don’t feel the same way but I would love that we stay companions.”Those words kept ringing in your head. Maybe you should have known he would reject you it’s alastor he isn’t exactly the loving type from what you heard.

But you shouldn’t and refused to set yourself back from by your business that you needed to maintain, as a business women you had to make sure it stayed successful as possible.

A knocked interrupted your paperwork “yes?” You asked “boss the Overlord Vox the tv demon wants to meet with you.” This immediately got your full attention “let him in.” Your employee opened the door to let him in.

“(Y/n) was it?.” “Yes and you must be Vox.” He smiled wider “that’s me, I wanted to buy some weapons from you.” that’s wasn’t what surprised after all in this afterlife it’s one of the two things you’re known for but what did surprise you was the way that he was looking at you.

You weren’t a fool you could tell he wanted you but you weren’t ready not yet anyway, trying to get over alastor of course. “Of course we have a large genre of any weapon of your desire, but first I want to see what you’re willing to spend.”

He smirked “gladly.” He then took out a suitcase and opened to reveal a whole jackpot. “Is this enough for you?” You smirked in return “oh very much so, looks like you’ll be my number one customer and on your first visit, impressive.” He smiled wider. You snapped you’re finger and all you’re walls moved to show all you’re weapons that are for sale.

“Nice, but while I’m deciding let’s get some drinks up here and ya know… make some small talk.” You raises your brow “small talk?” He shrugged his shoulders “yeah besides ain’t wrong to know my newest weapon dealer and the owner of my favorite club.”

“Well… I usually like just sticking to business but, I’ll let loose this once of course.” Funny enough that was a lie. This won’t be the only time you two meet. Usually it was at your club, his tv station or at each other homes.

Over time you got over alastor and started to have feelings for Vox but you had a feeling he felt the same. Thankfully he confirmed it himself “(y/n), I have feelings for you.” He seemed nervous, his right foot fidgeting his anticipation.

“I have feeling’s for you too.” you smiled seeing him get excited he then hugged you which made give out a small gasp “I’m so glad you’re not gonna regret this baby.” You chuckled “with the nicknames already then I guess I could use Voxy then.” The response made him blush “I like that but don’t tell anyone else that.” He stated making you laugh in response.

A year as passed and during all that you’re relationship with Vox was getting more serious and you wanted to surprise him with his favorite food, and tickets to a new movie that was playing in the movie theaters.

You walked into Vox’s home with a spare key you got from him, but you heard noises, you walked to you’re bedroom you hesitated, but you needed to know what the hell was going on. as you open the door you’re heart broken into pieces on the sight.

You saw as Valentino was on top of a shirtless Vox seeming to have been in a make out section but Vox noticed you instantly at door. “(Y-y/n) wait h- “what the hell is this!” You screamed feeling your hands tighten on the movie ticket you felt then slowly tear apart but that’s the least of your worries.

“Please (y/n) let me explain.” “Explain?! What? that your cheating on me, you know what I don’t even want to hear it we are threw I refuse to listen to any lame excuse!” You glared at Valentino, he had the audacity to smirk but you didn’t say anything, what could you say that he won? You refuse to admit it so you left throwing the movie tickets and food in the garbage can outside.

You did look back at the Vox’s home only last time and then you went on not giving another glance.

7 years later

It’s been 7 years sense you were gone no trace of you many people made theories but of course all of them were wrong, and with no notice or announcement. you suddenly appeared again this time working with Hazbin hotel including with alastor thankfully you didn’t have feeling’s for him still, you completely move on and still been friends for years and more to come.

You were cleaning around the hotel when alastor asked you to company him to go get food for the hotel since we were running low. You agreed, neither of you not realizing you are being recorded as you both leave the hotel.

Vox’s Pov:

I have been trying to look for (y/n) for so long… seven years it’s funny when I heard alastor was missing I would usually be ecstatic but then I realized that (y/n) also went missing… I think about her a lot.

I looked at a photo I had when we were still together, I know velveet told me to move on but I don’t think I can or ever can. For fuck sake what did alastor do to her or is she… with him I knew she had a thing for him before but I would hope it didn’t come to reality.

As you kept looking for camera any clue, any information hell maybe even another rumor and my prayers where answered but my fears seemed to also come true.

Alastor and (y/n) walking side by side to hell knows where. “No…. No, No, NO, NO!!” I yelled fisting my hands and slamming them across my keyboard very little of if I break my equipment or not. I let out breaths of rage trying to calm down but the more I looked the more I felt envy crawl up on me and especially rage “That OLD FUCK!” I immediately left thinking a plan, I’ll make her see I’m better then he will ever be.

You’re pov:

After grocery shopping with alastor, you were gonna go back to your duties, a door bell interrupt those plans, “oh is it a new demon that want to join the hotel?!” You heard Charlie yell “I don’t know yet let me check.” You replied, you opened the door to see a package that as you’re name on it.

And guessing from the blue decor you knew exactly who it was from “oh no.” You muttered, shit he figured out where you were “it’s a package for me sadly.” you answered Charlie which surprised her. “Then you see her appear from up the stairs to come down to you “really why would that be a bad thing?” “Because it’s from her ex.” Answers alastor from behind you.

Only Charlie jumped in surprise but you were used to him doing that “he’s correct I was hoping I had more time until Vox found me but I was clumsy it’s seems.”

“Oh sorry about that (y/n) I’m sure it will blow over right?” “I hope you’re right.” You threw the gift out not bothering to open it from him but sadly Charlie was oh so wrong. More gifts came, somehow he found your number so countless messages came no matter how many times you blocked him, and whenever you went beside a tv store Vox would always appear trying to start a conversation and trying to reason with you about getting back together.

It was infuriating it almost wanted make you disappear again but you refuse to back down that easily.

You watched the countless messages coming from Vox claiming how he changed and he got better for our relationship to “work” this time. Those were the usual the one that stood out to you though was.

[Fine if you won’t come to me then I’ll come to you.”]

It was the last message he sent this made you freeze in your spot and you looked to see this message was sent 20 minutes ago. for all you knew he was near. “Shit.” You anxiously looked outside not seeing him in sight, you didn’t know if you had the guts to face him at least if you did didn’t want to face him here, You texted him back quickly.

[we need to meet somewhere else we will meet at skullbrew, we can’t meet at the hotel that’s the least you can do]

[of course anything for you baby]

You rolled your eyes seeing his nickname for you, you used to love that nickname but now it’s just brings bittersweet memories. So you headed out making sure, you made it there on time.

As you walked you heard a man’s voice “hey sweetheart were you going.” You looked to see that the man was in fact talking to you “none of your concern.” This made him frown a little “come on baby, don’t be so hard headed you will love what I can offer you.” You ignored what the demon said until you felt his gross hands on your left wrist.

“Don’t act like a bitch.” You tries pulling your arm away but to no avail and like an idiot you forget to bring a weapon for yourself. “What’s the matter cat got your tongue?” This only made you glare at this cheesy remark but suddenly you see a black and blue hand sucker punch the demons face.

“What th- he looked to see Vox and his face immediately paled “shit I my bad I didn’t know she was yours I’ll just see- but he didn’t get to finish as Vox pulled out a gun and shot the demon multiple times. The demon fell to the ground in pain “what the fuck!” “Oh fuck why did you have shoot I was leaving?!?” Vox then smirked “to further the point to never bother her again and tell that to the other creeps around here.”

Vox then turned to you “see I’m better than alastor I came to your rescue.” You glared at him you hate the fact you were still attracted to this basturd. “I could’ve handled it myself.” You looked away slightly blushing this made his smirk turn to a smile “yeah you totally had that but I know you loved it when I came to your rescue.”

You rolled your eyes “whatever let’s just get to this coffee so I you can say whatever you want to say.” He eagerly followed behind you into the coffee shop.

“Let’s make this make this quick and say what you want to say.” You didn’t have the patience for small talk right now. “(Y/n) I…. miss you and I wanted to explain what was really going on seven years ago.” This made you let out a small chuckle “what really happens don’t try to gaslight me.” You growled out. “It’s the truth he… he was… forcing himself on me.” Your eyes widen “what.” “I told him that I was in a relationship with you and told him, that him and me can’t be a thing anymore.”

“You used to date him and he did that I- I just- “yes we did but I broke up with him over Angel and his abuse on me, then I meet you so didn’t go back to him like he expected me to do.” This made your eyes widen in realization.

“Wait please tell me that day was he….” He looked away but answers “yeah he did I… worst part after you left I blamed myself for that.” Now you felt terrible “Vox I… I should have listened I’m so sorry.” You begin tearing up “hey, hey. It’s not your fault you didn’t know and besides I should have cut off contact with him right after our breakup he is toxic as fuck.”

He suddenly grabbed your hand, it’s been so long since your hand as been held in his “(y/n) I want to try and give this relationship another shot. Are you two?” You looked into his eyes this time you really paid attention and saw the genuine love behind his eyes.

“Yes I wanna give this another go.” He became ecstatic he hugged you “you have no idea how much I missed you.” He stated while you returned the hug. “You gave me a couple hints these past three weeks.”

Which both of you laugh “I guess you got a point baby, but I’m better than alastor right?” You let out sigh with a smile “Voxy don’t worry about alastor is completely platonic now and besides he’s aroace.” This immediately made him smile letting out a breath of relief “oh thank satan.”

“It’s cute when you’re jealous.” He smiled “but you are so much more cuter.”

<- Back to MasterList or back to Hazbin Hotel

[imzsuzsis-blog]

"Famous... Of course... Location... It's not bad there."

I distributed autogarms to the fans and enjoyed them as much as they did. So I'm a little calmer at sixteen weeks pregnant, I'll be seventeen tomorrow, if I've been able to keep the driving from bothering me, they won't now either.

"MR Norris we should talk."

"About the loose clothes? if it comes to that, these are the ones that come in these days."

I smiled and continued on my scooter.

,,No."

One of the leaders pulled me aside, I recognized him, I used to talk to him on race weekends.

"Take off your top."

"Why am I so sexy?"

I asked him with a sexy laugh and raised my eyebrows just like that.

"No, you put on a few kilos and that's not allowed... I just want to measure your weight."

"I'm not going to take it down anyway, leave it alone!!!!"

I ran away from there with tears in my eyes, many times they found me saying that I'm not fit, I'm muscular or I've just gained weight, who cares, they have nothing to do with it.

,,Come back!"

"No, leave him alone!!!!! Well, I've finally put on a few kilos and I'm feeling good like this?! Huh?”

,,Obligatory."

,,Absolutely not!!!! You found the wrong person!!!!”

I stood in front of one of the motorhomes with my palms spread wide open and sobbed with this shit for half an hour or so.

"Lando, Lando!!!"

The paparazzi were screaming, I couldn't bear to listen, especially since it was about one of my competitors, I also heard the original situation, it was stupid, in my heart, I would have shot the guy on the spot.

"Lando, come on, fucking whore, the Paparazzi want you again, and they want to eat you alive."

I jerked away from him when he noticed them, he closed his eyes and screamed in an unintelligible voice and covered his ears.

"Charles!!!"

He screamed my name and opened him beautiful eyes.

"Is it over?"

"I don't know, this is Monaco and we're full of celebrities and more will come tomorrow..."

He closed his eyes again and started screaming again, terrified of the paparazzi.

"Loki, help..."

"What... Lando?"

He waved to him but he was still terrified, we can't do anything with him.

"Come open those beautiful eyes of yours, my beauty."

"No, they won't go away!!!"

I caressed his face but he didn't calm down, he became even more grumpy.

"Take it easy, little ones will leave."

,,When?!!!!!!"

He became more and more hysterical since yesterday, since we were caught kissing again.

"I know it sucks to be on the front page of the newspapers, but we can't do anything now, they caught us."

"Fuck, I know, and that's not the fucking point, but the fact that I'm pregnant. If it turns out, I'll be on the front page of even more newspapers, I don't want that, understand."

He went more and more into hysterical sobbing because yesterday those flashbacks really clicked on our sorrow, the questions also came in Lando's pregnancy category, we are still denying it as long as possible, then we will bring this to the public where possible, for the time being we are treating it as a private matter.

"It doesn't work Loki, I have to tell the public that I'm pregnant, but I don't know how, can you help me?"

"Yes, very welcome."

Now we had a quiet minute, I held him little growing belly together, I looked him right into him eyes by the nape of him neck, he smiled at me and finally we shared a faint kiss.

,,They're so cute."

I got my cell phone in advance and I took a picture of them in a stick, and instead of putting it on Instasorty, they came to my message. Also the answers to the questions, Lando is pregnant. I knocked him down against my will.

"Fuck it, I fucked it up."

I ran and accidentally dropped my mobile right in front of Charles.

"Eternal bet, my brother, what would you do?"

"I posted something by accident..."

"What are these on your Insta messages, oh my God, Lando is pregnant, who is pregnant, how long has he been pregnant... Answer me, brother."

"Good, but Lando is gay like that, but since when?"

"You abnormal Australian animal!!!"

Lando came behind me, I turned around I shouldn't have and he slapped me.

"What the hell did you put this on the internet for?"

"By accident, I meant it in my story, not here."

"You are a very Koala, many people see it there too."

I slapped him again, but this time so hard that a wound appeared on his mouth.

"I'm sorry, it wasn't intentional, I'm not like that, you fucking know me, I wouldn't post something like that anywhere."

"Oscar, this isn't your first time like this. When you came here, you posted that I was kissing another boy in the park of the paddock, and even then you wrote how cute it was."

Shaking my head, I tried to put my hand on my hip, but there was nowhere to go, so I just stood there facing him, not too happy about the matter.

"Or when you were still in Formula 2, I miscarried and secretly sobbed for several days and even weeks. You shouldn't have exposed it, you should learn to handle the mass media, Oscar."

,,Where is?"

He's fighting over there and he'll come."

I smiled at that I knew, then I saw what happened the whole social media freeze from Oscar again.

"Fuck the spit again."

,,What do you mean?"

"When he did it once, the whole X and Insta froze, which you can imagine, then because he said his teammate was gay, and now because Lando is pregnant."

I showed it to him, but I knew that he must be following him somewhere and knows that he posted this and that he shouldn't have.

"I'm too damn involved in this, just like you think the little one is from me."

"Screw it, I know, he said it was some kind of Ollie, but I wasn't too excited about a popular name."

"Fuck Oscar where he is!!!"

He became an angry scorpion in a moment when he came back and chewed his fist, he does it when he's nervous and now it's because Oscar pulled his brain up, but really.

"Baby, would you like a kiss of peace?"

"I'm not nervous, come on."

"Good, okay, not even a kiss of peace..."

"What?"

“Shall we… Comforter?”

"Yes, it's comforting."

[flower-gothic]

she wears short skirts, i wear t-shirts (eddie munson x fem!reader)

summary: you've been best friends (and secretly in love) with eddie for years, but when he gets a date with one of the cheerleaders, you find yourself doing everything you can to win his attention.

a/n: yes, the title and premise of this story is loosely based on "you belong with me" by taylor swift...this story is pretty self-indulgent, slightly angsty fluff. the descriptions of the reader are pretty closely based on myself, but feel free to imagine them however you like! please enjoy this little (okay, not so little) piece that would not get outta my head.

By all accounts, it was a typical Tuesday night–it started out like that, anyway. You were sat at your desk doing homework, the latest Iron Maiden record blaring through your headphones at a volume that was certain to damage your hearing. You knew Eddie, your oldest and closest friend, would most likely climb through your bedroom window any minute, despite the fact that your parents had no problem with him coming over; they, and everyone else, knew that nothing was going on between the two of you. Eddie just liked the dramatics of climbing up the side of your house to get inside, even though he waved at your mother through the window on his way up.

Like clockwork, right at 8:30, Eddie came pounding at the window loudly enough to cut through the sound of the music in your ears. Though he knew this was always necessary to get your attention, there was a certain urgency in his knocking on this particular evening. You pushed the window up for him, singing the chorus of “Wasted Years” to him with a cheesy grin as the music continued to pour through your headphones. You saw Eddie roll his eyes and smile at you, ever-amused by your shamelessly off-key singing. He pulled the headphones from your ears, bringing them to his own for a quick listen.

“Ah, the new Maiden album! This is a good one,” he observed loudly, unaware of his yelling over the music only he could hear.

You snatched the headphones back before hitting pause on the cassette. “Well, duh. Couldn’t you tell that from me singing to you?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up underneath his curly mess of bangs. “Actually, I couldn’t. As much as I adore you, sweetheart, you’re no Bruce Dickinson,” he teased. You shoved him playfully, scoffing at the comment.

“Cruel, Eddie! I’d put myself right on par with the greatest of metal vocalists.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” he said. “Enough about the legitimacy of your singing talents, though. I have something important to tell you.” 

You could feel the excitement buzzing off of your friend, now that he mentioned it. He was bouncing around happily, making you wonder what had him so worked up. “What’s up, Eds?” you asked. 

Eddie’s signature toothy grin spread across his lovely face, reaching his chocolate-colored eyes; you could’ve sworn his cheeks blushed red. He flopped down onto your bed before he started to recount his tale. “Well, you know how I’ve always had a little bit of a crush on Megan, right? I accidentally ran into her at the store after school, like physically ran into her with a bunch of snacks in my arms–you know how I crave Yoohoo after I smoke–and we both dropped everything. Anyways, we helped each other pick up our stuff, got to talking, and we actually hit it off. And get this, Y/N. I’m taking her out on a date this Friday night!” Eddie beamed at you, clearly both exhilarated and proud of his story. 

For you, however, it felt as though someone had just landed a hard punch to your gut. Because little did Eddie, or your parents, or your friends know, you had had a crush on Eddie for quite some time. Finally, you worked up a response. “Megan M., you mean? Cheerleader, class president Megan?” you asked, slightly disbelieving. 

“Well, yeah. You knew that’s the Megan I’ve always had a thing for,” Eddie replied, seeming a little let down by your reaction. 

You let out a little puff of air, then turned back to your desk. “Oh,” was all you could muster. Tears were prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you would rather die than let Eddie see them. 

“That’s all you have to say? Oh? I thought you’d be a little more excited for me,” Eddie said, clearly downtrodden. 

You shook your head, gathering all the composure you could find within yourself and turning to face him. “No, Eds, it’s not that. I’m happy for you, really. I just have a bit of a headache and I have some homework to finish up, so I’m not feeling the greatest. I think I need to be by myself,” you lied, giving him a halfhearted smile.

Eddie frowned. “Really? We were supposed to watch a movie tonight. Robin gave me a couple good scary options for free,” he complained. Eddie could tell something was going on with you; even when you did have homework, you were usually happy to let him occupy himself with the books and magazines and tapes in your room, simply content to have some company. 

“Yes, Eddie, really. I just remembered I have an essay due in the morning, so I really need peace and quiet. You could go over to Gareth’s if you don’t feel like being alone, I know he’s been dying to see the new Friday the 13th movie,” you suggested. Then, as petty jealousy lanced through you, you added, “Or maybe you could go watch it with Megan.” You spat her name out like it tasted bitter. 

Standing from your bed, Eddie gave you a puzzled, slightly hurt look. “Fine, I guess I’ll just go, then. See you tomorrow, I guess.” Eddie slipped out your window as easily as he had entered, and when you heard his filthy white high-tops hit solid ground, you walked to the window and watched him jog to his van. As soon as the tires screeched away, the tears that had been threatening to fall for Eddie’s entire visit began spilling over.

Of all the girls Eddie could go out with, why did it have to be Megan? She was sweet, popular, and smart, not to mention absolutely gorgeous–the polar opposite of you. You looked in the mirror at yourself: curly, wild hair, big, chunky glasses, and your body draped in one of Eddie’s old Corroded Coffin t-shirts, making you look totally shapeless. You didn’t stand a chance against Megan and her perfect high ponytails and sinfully short skirts. Though you’d had your suspicions about the sorts of girls Eddie liked based on the magazines that were sometimes lying around his bedroom, this was your final, heartbreaking confirmation that you weren’t Eddie’s type–that he would never be attracted to you. 

You slept fitfully that night. Frustration plagued your mind, and you found yourself, in your sleeplessness, hatching a plan. Though it wasn’t likely to work, you came up with one final, last-ditch effort to get Eddie’s attention for yourself, to get him to see you. You set your alarm extra-early, knowing you’d have to get to work before the sun rose in order to make this happen.

At 5:45am the next morning, the obnoxious ringing of your alarm awoke you;  you had apparently drifted off at some point late in the night. You dragged yourself reluctantly out of bed. The gray morning light of autumn was just beginning to peek through your curtains, and you found yourself questioning if Eddie’s attention was truly worth waking up an hour earlier than normal. The thought of Eddie on a date with Megan M. helped you decide that it certainly was.

Thus began a painstaking morning routine: you took a long, hot shower, shaving your legs baby-smooth and scrubbing down with the floral body wash that your mother usually used. You blow-dried your hair smooth before tying it up into a ponytail that made your scalp ache. Then came the part which you found yourself most daunted by: makeup. You had a few products for special occasions, but they were rarely used otherwise. You had seen Nancy do her makeup a few times, though, and tried to remember her steps: light concealer to cover the tired circles under your eyes, rosy pink blush, mascara, and lip gloss that made your lips look full and shiny. Finally, you sneaked into your older sister’s room to raid her closet for something more feminine, apprehensive despite the fact that she was a few hundred miles away at college. It felt like she would know you were about to steal her clothes despite that fact.

In the end, you found yourself slipping into a short, pink skirt and white sweater that she had left behind, along with a pair of your own white sneakers. You tied a blush-pink satin ribbon into your hair as the finishing touch, then placed your thick glasses on your dresser, brushing off the slight blurriness in the name of looking more fashionable. Gazing in the mirror, you felt nothing like yourself: the only remnant of the real you left behind was the faded little stick-and-poke tattoo of a bat on your thigh that Eddie had put there while you were both drunk one night; he had one to match in the same spot. 

You grabbed your schoolbag and awaited Eddie’s appearance in front of your house; he took you to school every morning. As the minutes ticked by, you became worried that the previous night’s awkwardness was going to prevent him from showing up, but as you heard the van’s tires screech to a stop, you realized it was only Eddie’s habitual lateness. Eddie was drumming distractedly on the steering wheel when you opened the door and hopped inside. He turned to you with a smile. “Morning, sunshine. You feeling–” he stopped abruptly as he looked you up and down, jaw almost dropping. “You feeling better?” he managed after gawking at you for a few seconds. 

You smiled lightly at Eddie, trying to emulate the pleasant prettiness of the popular girls that Eddie was apparently interested in. “Much better today, thanks, Eds. Sorry I kicked you out last night,” you replied politely. 

Eddie continued staring you down as he pulled off towards Hawkins High. “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled. Quietly, secretly, he wondered if you had actually hit your head, for he had only seen you dress this way for the family photos you so hated taking last year. 

You arrived at school and walked in together, as you always did. Before you could take your usual morning spot in the cafeteria, however, Megan was walking up, waving sweetly to Eddie. Immediately, your conversation about the upcoming Hellfire campaign was discarded. 

“Hey, Eddie!” she greeted the metalhead eagerly. “Hi,Y/N,” she added, smiling kindly at you, and dammit, you couldn’t even hate her because she truly was sweet.

“Good morning, m’lady,” Eddie replied, dropping to a knee and kissing her hand, and she giggled at him.

 Jealousy bubbled up in your chest: that stupid, cheesy routine was typically reserved for you. As the pair started a conversation, you broke away, quietly saying, “I gotta get to class,” but you didn’t think anyone was listening. 

In Mrs. O’Donnell’s Eddie took his usual spot next to you. “Hey, why’d you ditch me this morning?” he whispered. 

Looking straight ahead, you replied, “Dunno. Didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with Megan.”

“Aw, come on, Y/N. You’re never interrupting, and besides–” 

Eddie was abruptly cut off by Mrs. O’Donnell’s sharp voice. “Mr. Munson, would you like to share something with the class?” she asked. 

Eddie sighed, sinking down in his seat and facing forward. “No, ma’am.” 

At lunch, Megan was already sitting in your usual seat at the table, laughing away with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire. You approached awkwardly with your tray in hand, trying to turn the other direction before anyone noticed you when you realized there were no open chairs. Eddie spotted you before you could get away, though. “Oh, shoot, Y/N, I’m sorry. I can pull up a chair from one of the other tables,” he offered.

You felt your cheeks burning, wishing for a less embarrassing way out of this. “Oh, um, don’t worry about it! I told Nancy I’d help her out with something today anyway,” you said, ducking away from the table before Eddie could get another word in. 

That was how you ended up eating lunch all alone in the library. So much for capturing Eddie’s attention. 

You were nearly late to your afternoon classes due to the long walk back to the cafeteria to return your tray. Eddie and Megan were nowhere to be seen, but you bumped into Dustin as you rushed to chemistry. “Sorry,” you muttered. You didn’t even realize it was him at first.

“Hey, Y/N,” Dustin said, getting you to look up from your feet. “Sorry about lunch, I don’t know what Eddie was thinking, giving your seat away.” 

You just shrugged. “It’s fine. I just ate in the library, caught up on studying.” 

“Well I know this doesn’t make up for it, but she’s pretty cool, actually. Megan, I mean,” he explained.

Without meaning to, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, Megan’s so cool and great and pretty. May as well have my seat at the table and my best friend.” 

Dustin’s brow knit together. “Are you upset about her going out with Eddie?” he asked. You didn’t respond for a moment, and realization soon dawned on his face. “You’re upset about her going out with Eddie,” he breathed, eyes wide. “Do you like him?” 

“I dunno. Maybe,” you answered hesitantly.

Dustin nodded. “You’re mad at Eddie, you’re dressed all weird, it all makes sense now!” Dustin said triumphantly. When you glared, he gave a sheepish chuckle. “Uh, sorry. This situation really is shit.”

The bell rang again before you could respond with any substance. “Yeah. Gotta go,” you said, rushing off to class and hoping that chemical formulas would take your mind off of all this, if only for the next 50 minutes.

After school, you were met by the not-so-shocking sight of Megan and Eddie leant up against his beat-up van and chatting. When he caught sight of you, Eddie smiled, and your anger melted away for a split-second. “Hey, you ready to go?” he asked. “I’m gonna give Megan a ride too, if you don’t mind giving up shotgun.” His eyes pleaded with you to go along with it, and with a forced smile, you did.

“No problem,” you said through gritted teeth. From the backseat you watched the two flirt; Eddie was nauseatingly sweet, playing some obnoxiously poppy Madonna tape through the speakers and driving like your grandmother would. He dropped you off first, much to your confusion. “Um, it’s pasta night, you know. Are you coming back after?” you asked. On Wednesday nights, Eddie usually joined your family for dinner. He hated being alone at the trailer and you knew that if he was home alone, he’d probably be eating a bowl of cereal for every meal. 

Eddie balked slightly. “Uh, probably not tonight. I’m kinda busy, got some homework to take care of. Tell your mom and dad I said hi, though,” he said. 

“Will do,” you replied tightly, hopping out of the backseat without saying goodbye.

So this was how it started. First, he put you in the backseat, now he wasn’t hanging out alone with you anymore, either–probably in order to prevent Megan’s jealousy and quell her doubts about the nature of your friendship. You knew that Eddie’s pet names and his cuddles were long gone, too. You headed directly to your bedroom and tore out of the stupid, pretty outfit and the ponytail you wore before scrubbing wildly at the makeup on your face. You then threw yourself on your bed and laid there until your mother called you for supper, but you barely ate; all you could do was stare at Eddie’s empty seat at your dining room table.

Despite the futility of it, you continued to wear the same outfits on the following days, feigning indifference to the newly-formed rift between Eddie and yourself. He brought you to school in the backseat and took you home the same way. You sat in a pulled-up extra seat at lunch while Eddie fawned over the object of his affections. 

On Friday, after school, you knew your time had run out. You couldn’t wait to get home, take off the fake outfit once and for all, and mourn what your friendship with Eddie used to be; after tonight, you were sure that the relationship you once shared would be a shadow of its former self. As you trudged out to meet Hawkins’ future hottest couple, you noticed Megan gesture to you. You frowned curiously as you approached.

“Hey, Y/N, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the tattoo on your leg. Where’d you get it? It’s kinda cool,” she said.

Before you could open your mouth to tell her that it was kind of a long story (a special and secret one at that), Eddie was answering for you. “I did it, actually. Y/N and I got super wasted and we were playing truth or dare, and she dared me to give her the tattoo. If you really like it, I could give you one too. Maybe tonight,” he suggested with a raise of his eyebrows. 

Before you could see her reaction, you were storming off in the other direction. Anger rose in your throat: giving away your seat was one thing, ditching you was another, but throwing away the sentimentality of the tattoo he gave you as though it was nothing? That was the last straw. “Y/N, where are you going?” Eddie called after you. 

You whipped your head around quickly. “Don’t fucking worry about it,” you said, venom lacing your voice. You turned back around, making a beeline for the big yellow school bus you hadn’t had to take since Eddie got his driver’s license. You heard him trotting up behind you, but you didn’t dare turn around.

“Hey! Don’t just walk away from me. What the fuck, Y/N? We aren’t like this. What’s going on with you? First you start dressing all crazy, now this,” he said as he sidled up to you.

Abruptly you stopped walking, fully turning to face him. “You just don’t get it, do you? God, I’m so stupid. I try acting different, I try dressing different, I even put on this damn mascara to try to get you to notice me! But it was never about the clothes and the makeup, was it? It’s just me you can’t see.” By this point, your lip was quivering and your voice shook, and you could feel a fat tear rolling down your cheek. You knew your dignity was gone at this point. You tore yourself away from Eddie’s big brown puppy eyes before he could stop you, before he could hurt you even more by confirming all of this, and made your way to the bus. 

The ride home was loud and bumpy. Eddie’s van was, too, but in the fun sort of way where the two of you blasted vulgar music and hit the bumps in the road at high speed just for the thrill of it. This was just grating on your frayed nerves. 

You spent the remainder of the afternoon in your room, sprawled across your bed while your music played. You’d ditched the high ponytail and the skirt for your usual look: wild hair and ripped jeans. You were wearing Eddie’s Corroded Coffin shirt again if only just for the futile comfort of being surrounded by something of his. You had put your glasses back on, too, because three days without them had left you with a relentless headache. 

You stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, only getting up to switch out your tapes every so often. Your parents had gone out for the night, so no one was home to tell you to get rid of the ear-shattering music. You barely noticed when the sun set and the light of day faded into night.

The sound of knuckles rapping against your window startled you from your stupor. You shot up in your bed, glancing at the clock first. 8:37, it said. So when you saw Eddie’s face peering through the window, things didn’t add up.

Your brows furrowed as you reluctantly opened the window. “I thought you had your date with Megan tonight,” you said. Eddie tumbled through the window and shook his head.

“I canceled,” he explained, standing before you with an expectant look on his face, but you only shrugged. 

“Okay? Why? You were like, so excited. Fuckin’ over the moon about her,” you muttered, walking away from the window and the chill of the fall evening. Eddie closed it behind him. 

“Well, my girl seemed like she needed me, and that’s more important than any old date.” 

You sighed. “Eddie, cut the bullshit, I know you’d rather be with–”

“Megan? No, Y/N, I’d rather figure out what’s been going on with you all week,” Eddie said. He gave you a stern sort of look that told you he was serious. 

You sighed in defeat; the truth was going to come out eventually, and you figured you may as well tell it yourself. “Fine. You really wanna know? I’m jealous. So there. I’m jealous that I’ve been here with you for all this time, and then at the drop of a hat you wanted to go date one of the pretty, popular girls. So I thought maybe you’d be into me, too, if I wore what they wear and acted how they act, b-but it didn’t change anything.” You looked at him tearfully and shrugged.

Eddie's eyes filled up with compassion. “I was wondering why you were dressing that way. Not that you didn’t look fuckin’ incredible in a skirt, but I missed seein’ you in my old t-shirts and these big dorky glasses,” he said fondly, stepping closer to you.

You shook your head. “Just stop, okay? I know I already fucked everything up, and I know it was stupid for me to try to make you like me with clothes and a new hairstyle. You don’t have to say things like that.” 

“But I’m not just saying it, sweet thing. You don’t have to change your clothes or your hair to make me like you. You are perfect exactly the way you are. You’re beautiful,” Eddie told you with a soft smile. He was standing right in front of you now, just inches away. When you looked up to meet his eyes, the love you felt for him stabbed painfully through your chest. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean exactly what I’m saying. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner, because obviously I’ve wasted a lot of time. I always thought you’d never be into me like that, so I tried to get over you and date other people. And Megan, she’s pretty and all, but you? I’m pretty sure you’re my soulmate, Y/N. Not to mention the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met.” 

You felt your cheeks turn bright red. “Eddie, c’mon…” you mumbled, still not believing him. 

Eddie took your hands in his. “I’m not just messing around or joking, doll. You’ve been with me for years, put up with all my quirks and been there when things are bad. I can be with you for hours, days even, and still miss you the second I have to leave. I feel like myself when I’m with you. You never make me feel like the freak everyone says I am,” he said sincerely. 

“But-but what about the girls you usually like? I’m nothing like them.” 

Eddie grinned at you then, that smile that was just as bright as sunshine. He reached out, twirling one of your curls around his finger. “I prefer you like this. You look like yourself. Not to mention, I’ve always found you adorable in my shirts.” He paused for a moment, seeming to work himself up to say something bigger. “I never cared about the clothes and the makeup and all that. I want you just the way you are, not pretending to be something you’re not. Because honestly, Y/N, I love you for you.” 

You smiled back at Eddie then, finally starting to believe that this was real. Before you could speak again, Eddie took your face gently in his hands and pressed his lips against your own in a chaste kiss. When the shock of it wore off, you kissed him back; you savored the soft feeling of his lips against yours, the taste of spearmint gum and tobacco in his mouth, the smell of his cologne and the hint of weed that always lingered around him. It was a smell so distinctly and perfectly Eddie that you could just drown in it. 

Eddie smiled and licked his lips when you finally parted. “I think you forgot to take off that lipgloss you were wearing earlier, you taste like strawberries. Not that I’m complaining,” he said with a chuckle. 

You blushed and gave him a soft shove, which quickly turned into a warm embrace. “Shut up, Munson,” you said softly into his chest. He ghosted a hand over your hair. 

“I brought Friday the 13th Part VI and a couple beers if you’re free for the evening,” Eddie offered. “I know it’s not a very exciting first date, but…” 

“There’s no way I’d rather spend my evening.” You grabbed his hand, leading him to the family room with a grin. 

Plopping down on the couch, safely in Eddie’s arms, you watched the cheesy movie. Right before you could drift off, you heard Eddie’s mischievous voice one more time: “So, about these outfits you were wearing the past couple days, baby. What would it take to get you back into one of those skirts? Maybe just for a private viewing.” 

With a soft punch in the thigh, you replied, “Maybe you’ll just have to take me upstairs and find out.”

Eddie gave you a wicked grin, something hungry like you’d never seen before. It made your stomach flip-flop in anticipation. “Deal.” 

Maybe the skirts you’d worn weren’t completely useless, after all.

[october-lady]

I’ll make you beg for it, chapter 12

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Chapter rating: General

Word Count: 2903

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 || Chapter 11

Read on AO3

Natasha woke up when the sun was already up in the sky. It was unusual for her to sleep that long, years of waking up early and usually a busy schedule didn’t allow her to sleep in even when she wanted to.

She didn’t open her eyes. She was lying on her back, the sun coming in through the space in the curtains tickling her on her face. She could feel Wanda’s body next to her. In fact, she was sure the brunette’s arm was loosely wrapped around her.

She frowned. She’s going to have to find a way to talk to the brunette and help her. But right now she was probably late for their debriefing meeting. 

Slowly, so she wouldn’t wake up the witch, she started slipping out from under her arm. She was still in the middle of the bed, which was surprising because she usually tossed and turned a lot. She also noted that she felt very refreshed, considering how late she went to bed and how little sleep she actually got.

“Mmm,” Wanda stirred at the lack of touch and the sudden movement, opening one of her eyes to look at Natasha.

“Hey,” the redhead smiled. “I have to go to a meeting. I’ll get some breakfast ready for you in the kitchen, just go get it, okay?”

“Mmm,” Wanda pressed her face back into the pillow, protesting the world.

“So dramatic,” Natasha shook her head laughing and headed out of the door.

She quickly ran into her room to change into something more appropriate before she headed for the kitchen. She made herself a big cup of coffee and poured a smaller one for Wanda too. She left some bread next to the toaster, not wanting it to go hard and cold, along with some marmalades and chocolate spread. Leaving a small bottle of orange juice next to the coffee, she made her way out of the kitchen and into their conference room.

The meeting was boring and uneventful so she just let Steve do all the talking.

“Are we boring you, Romanoff?” Tony said

“Yes, actually,” she rolled her eyes, lazily looking up at him from her laptop.

“What better things do you have to pay attention to than us, prey tell?” He crossed his arms.

“Nothing that needs to concern you,” Natasha gave him one of her sweet smiles.

“Whatever. Anyway, as I was saying, we should definitely keep an eye on this group,” he turned back to the screen in front of them.

“Agreed,” Maria said from the speaker.

Natasha turned back to her laptop, half listening, half reading. When the meeting was finally over, she collected all her papers and left.

She wanted to go straight to Wanda’s room but something told her to check the kitchen first. Everything she left out there for the brunette was still untouched. She sighed and quickly got a few things, balancing it on a tray on her way to her room.

She knocked but didn’t bother waiting and just walked in. Wanda was awake but still in bed.

“Hey, I thought you’d go have something to eat,” she said as she set the tray on the bedside table.

“I’m not hungry,” Wanda replied quietly, avoiding her eyes.

“You have to eat,” Natasha argued as she sat back in the bed, propping herself up against the headboard. “Come on, I’ll have some too.”

Wanda did as she was told, pulling herself up and covering her body with the blanket.

“We shouldn’t eat in bed,” she stated when the redhead handed her a piece of toast.

“Well, you refused to get out of bed,” Natasha said through a full mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda suddenly said, looking at her toast like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“What for?” The redhead put down her food and turned to face the other woman.

“Last night. I don’t know what happened, I feel stupid.” Wanda sighed. It felt like a hangover, like she got drunk and did something embarrassing, something she shouldn’t have. She let someone else see her at her low, vulnerable, and she invited the person into her bed. She wasn’t even sure what Natasha was to her, and it made her head spin just thinking about it.

Natasha looked at her carefully, considering her next words.

“Wanda… You have nothing to apologise for, okay?” She started, watching for her reaction. There wasn’t any, apart from the brunette putting her plate down. “You lost your brother, a twin, and I can’t imagine what it must be like but you are allowed to grieve.” She watched as Wanda pulled her legs up and hugged her knees, resting her head on them. “There isn’t a specific time by which you should get over it, in fact, I don’t think you should. He will always be part of you and you will always miss him but it will get better, I promise. We just have to work on it and take it day by day.”

“We?” Wanda questioned, not looking at the redhead.

“Yeah, I said I would help you with your anxiety and stuff, didn’t I?” She smiled.

“I didn’t think you actually would,” Wanda said, slightly surprised, finally looking up at the redhead. Her eyes were still a bit puffy and red.

“I don’t make empty promises and I wouldn’t just let you drown in it all, would I?” She nudged her with a smile. 

“I dunno,” Wanda mumbled, averting her eyes again.

Natasha watched her with interest. She couldn’t blame Wanda for not believing her. They weren’t really friends, they were just… two people who liked to spend time together. She didn’t have any track record that would show the brunette she meant her promise. Natasha herself was surprised by her willingness to help. Watching Wanda suffer and in pain awoke a new feeling in her.

She has always been able to push those kinds of feelings away, for the most part at least. But with Wanda, she just wanted to help her. She wanted to take it all away. She wanted to do everything to ease the pain but she didn’t know how to navigate all this.

It was new to her, the urge to do anything possible, the urge to just stare at the other person, the desire to exist in their space. 

“What happened yesterday?” She pushed her feelings and thoughts aside, instead asking gently.

Wanda closed her eyes at the recollection of her feelings from the previous day.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It might help you…”

“What makes you think that? What do you know about it?” Wanda tried to fight her but her voice was betraying her.

“I know a lot of things about a lot of stuff. I have quite a few of my own traumas, though that doesn’t mean I know how to handle it,” she chuckled at her own joke. “I don’t know how to prove to you that I really just want to help you, nothing else, I’m not being nosy, I’m not going to make fun of you, I just want you to be in control. So here,” Natasha gave her the small pile of papers she brought in with her with a sigh.

“What’s that?” Wanda took it from her slowly.

“You don’t have to talk to me, hell, I know I hate talking. So I thought maybe at least doing some research might help push you in the right direction and show you some ways on how to deal with it. I printed out some information about anxiety and tips on how to deal with it, what might help you manage it and recognise it. There is also a bit about PTSD, you might want to read that too.” Natasha suddenly felt silly, like she was doing something she shouldn’t be, insecure about the brunette’s reaction, feeling like maybe she was overstepping.

“I don’t have PTSD,” Wanda protested, frowning at her.

“Wanda,” the redhead smiled, “of course you have PTSD. Look at everything you have been through, all the trauma, near death experience, Hydra, your powers… That’s nothing to be ashamed of! Not many people could go through the same things you have and still walk out of it relatively fine on the other side, capable of living a life! If anything, it would be weird and highly unusual if you remained unaffected.”

“Maybe,” the brunette mumbled, not really sure what to say. Her eyes started to get threateningly watery. 

“Anyway,” Natasha took a deep breath as if to change the topic, “I just want you to look through it to give you an idea, then you can research it in more detail if you feel like it. If you want, I’m sure we could find you a professional. Also, and this might surprise you, Tony knows about PTSD first hand if you ever want to chat to someone about it. I know you don’t really like him but he might be able to help you find your way through it.”

Wanda just nodded. She didn’t know what to say. This was all a lot. She was just coming to terms with not being in control of her emotions and powers and now Natasha was here not only offering to help but also researching things on her behalf.

She felt overwhelmed with gratitude, embarrassed that all this is even needed in the first place and snippets of all her traumas trying to pop onto the surface.

She just had this feeling towards Natasha that she couldn’t really name, this appreciation that was consuming her and she didn’t know how to navigate it. The familiar feeling of little tingles started in her stomach, echoing throughout her whole body into the tips of her fingers, tightening her chest.

Wanda closed her eyes, trying to breathe through it.

“Let me know if there is anything I can do, okay?” Natasha said with indefinity towards the current situation, pretending not to see the little sparks preceding the infamous red swirls.

The brunette waited a second, trying to control her breathing but she could feel her heart pounding in her throat when she spoke.

“Fuck me,” Wanda breathed out, her eyes locked on green ones. Her voice didn’t waver, it was steady, demanding, pleading.

Natasha wasn’t really surprised to hear that request. It wasn’t the first time Wanda asked this of her to regain control after all. She looked into Wanda’s eyes looking for insecurity, for hesitation. She didn't find either. Instead, she found determination, begging for help, maybe even a hint of fear that flashed across her eyes. There was also lust, hunger, need.

Natasha felt a tug of pain in her heart. Wanda was selling herself to be in control.

“Wanda,” she whispered, not trying to keep her voice steady. She raised her left hand and cupped Wanda’s face, her thumb rubbing on her cheek soothingly. She leaned closer and captured the brunette’s lips with hers. She could taste salt from the witch’s tears that managed to escape her eyes.

Natasha pressed their lips together, still holding her face in her hand. She was grateful to be able to control her tears, she couldn’t let Wanda see that, she had to be strong for her.

She broke the kiss and rested her forehead on Wanda’s, their eyes closed.

“I would love to. Believe me, I would love to fuck you. But not like this. This is not a good coping mechanism. I promise I will fuck you when the time is right,” she whispered, holding Wanda’s head in place, not allowing her to move. “But not today.”

Wanda felt a bit of panic. Her instinct was to pull away, to hide but Natasha’s hand was still holding her in place. She was forced to stay.

“It’s okay. You can do this,” Natasha murmured. She pushed herself away from the brunette, dropping her hand from her cheek.

Wanda looked down on her hands. Her magic was making its way around her arms again. She moved away, further from the redhead.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, pulling her sleeves over her hands as if it could hide the magic.

“You won’t.” Natasha said confidently and stretched out her arms. On the inside she was more than nervous. She was very well aware that there was a strong possibility of getting hurt. She also knew that if Wanda actually did hurt her, the brunette would be devastated. For some reason, she had faith in herself and her ability to be able to calm the other woman down.

“Come on, give me your hands.”

Wanda looked scared. She was very hesitant but she was very tired of trying to fight this, to fight Natasha. It was so much easier to do as she was told, to just try whatever this was. All she wanted was for her magic to not escape whenever she felt upset or anxious.

She let Natasha take her hands in hers and looked at her expectantly.

“Okay… this might be complete bullshit but it’s worth a shot. Just focus on me. My breathing and my energy.”

Natasha took a deep breath. This was risky but given Wanda’s magical abilities, she felt like this was the most effective out of all their options. She locked eyes with Wanda and squeezed her hands.

She was very grateful for all her training and self control, allowing her to keep her face calm and friendly. On the inside, she was panicking.

What did she get herself into? Wouldn’t it be easier to just fuck the woman, at least she would get something out of it as well?

But this was the right thing to do. She wasn’t going to take advantage of Wanda. She was going to help her long term.

The whole ‘give a man a fish, feed him for a day, teach him how to fish and feed him for life’ thing. 

She could feel the magic spreading across their connected hands, wrapping itself around her arms as well.

Wanda’s eyes were beautiful. She could get lost in them if it weren’t for the sadness. She smiled at her, trying to encourage her.

“Just focus on me. Nothing else.” That was a funny thing to say to someone whose sexual proposal you’ve just rejected, Natasha thought. But never mind that.

They sat like that for quite a long time. Natasha focusing on staying calm and friendly, inviting and kind and Wanda just looking at her with hope.

The swirls stopped spreading quite quickly, just staying in place, lazily pulsing. 

Wanda was so pretty.

Her milky skin, soft under her hands.

The familiar smell of her lavender shampoo.

Her chest, rising and falling under her shaky breath.

Her pink lips, slightly parted.

Just breathing, existing. There was nothing else but this moment.

It took a while for Natasha to notice but the magical swirls disappeared.

“See, I told you you can do it,” she smiled at the brunette.

“How?” Wanda blinked in surprise.

“Because you are in control.” Natasha shrugged.

“I think I could feel you? It’s silly but it felt like I could feel your calmness and it sort of… transferred onto me? Is that even possible?” Wanda pulled her hands away and started looking at them like she just did some advanced magic.

“Well, it happened so yes, I think it is entirely possible.” Natasha said, feeling the cold on her hands. 

“Did you know? Did you know that it would work? Like this? My powers?” Wanda looked at her with big eyes.

“Honestly, no. But I thought it might, so I thought it’s worth a shot.” The redhead hid her smile behind her hair.

“I - don’t know what to say. I thought you hated my magic?” Wanda questioned.

“I don’t hate it. I’m just a bit wary of things I don’t understand or can’t explain. But I guess I have to be a bit more open minded, now that we’re fighting aliens and robots,” she laughed.

“And you let me inside you…” Wanda whispered, playing with her rings.

“Well… not really. Just under the surface, I guess. It’s still a big no on messing with my head, just to make it clear. But I can occasionally help out, until you find something else that works for you.” Modesty wasn’t her strong suit but right now she didn’t feel like taking credit.

“Thank you. I really mean it, I don’t know what I would do without you! If you ever need anything from me, if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know, okay?” Wanda said, gratitude dripping from her voice.

“Actually, there is one thing,” Natasha smirked.

“Yes?”

“Well, seeing as you haven’t been eating properly, I think we have to make sure you eat a big substantial meal. How do you feel about going out for dinner?” Natasha asked, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

“Natasha Romanoff, are you asking me out on a date?” Wanda raised her eyebrow at that question.

“And if I am, Miss Maximoff?” The redhead played back.

“Then I would say yes,” Wanda smiled, biting down on her lip.

“Perfect! Give these a little read, okay?” Natasha tapped the stack of papers before getting up from the bed. “Otherwise you don’t get a dessert.”

“I will. And thank you, again!” Wanda promised, her cheeks flushed.

Chapter 13

-----

Taglist: @raqelacevedo @tati3001

Please leave a comment or send me a message if you want to be on the tag list for this fic or all of my WandaNat fics.

[stickynotestoletters]

Izuku x Male Reader Smut

I'm a dirty slut, so .... yeah

Women DNI please :3

Warnings: you push friend boundaries in the fic but Izuku likes it so it's fine, bottom reader, top izuku, buff tan izuku, big tiddy izuku, God kink apparently, degradation, he calls you puppy, a bit of simp Izuku, breeding kink

Izuku wasn't a simp, okay? He was kind, he was courteous and pleasant to be around! But he always had boundaries with his friends and loved ones. Well....until he met you.

You see, Izuku had a not-so-obvious crush on you (shut it Bakugou). Ever since he met you at UA he kind of let you push any and all boundaries that he had put in place with his friends.

Now don't get the wrong idea! At first, when you both met in your first year at UA it was just little stuff! Like, using his clothes or borrowing a pillow. I mean that's what friends are for right? At least that’s what you told him.

He thought maybe he just needed to chill out and let loose his rules a bit. So you were a little friendlier about how you acted around him as opposed to your other friends, so what?

He could make an exception this once and that would be it!

But then you started getting even more comfortable.

And it was good! He was happy you were comfortable around him! It made his heart fly!

You were being a little touchier with him and it was just friendly stuff. Laying your head on his shoulder and in his lap or even just stroking his hair while you cuddle, but that's fine!

He likes it, he always has and always will!

You ask permission the first time you do these things and how could he resist sitting in the arms of a gorgeous man like you?

Then it stays that way for a while a little after UA.

You get a little bold every once in a while after that but it's nothing he can't handle.

He's working out and doing hero work so he has more things to focus on than his not so little crush anymore.

Even if he stays up at night thinking about all those touches. Thinking about your chapped lips and smooth skin beneath his hands. Thinking about your hands and how much he likes them. Likes them in his hair, massaging his shoulders. How much more he would like them if you tangled them in his hair and pull on it as he's fucking you into his mattress. How much he'd then like it for you to yell and scream his name as he absolutely pounds you into his sheets. How much he wants you to cry and scream his name until the neighbors bring noise complaints and you have a sore throat the next day from it.

So yeah. He doesn't have the time.

Until one night you show up to his door. It's late, almost 4 in the morning, about 2 hours after he comes home from his agency, and he just hears these little knocks on the door. He thinks it's the rain at first until he gets a text from you asking him if he's up and if you could come in.

He's almost dressed and ready for bed but for you, he'd sacrifice any amount of sleep to make sure you're okay at any time of the night.

He opens his door to find you drenched from the rain. And he means soaked. You're shivering in these nice little skinny jeans and a white T-shirt. You're sobbing and your hair is spilling water onto his doormat. "Hey Izuku, is it-is it okay if I come in?"

He can hear just how congested you are, it seems like you've been crying for a while. "Yeah, just let me-let me get you a towel, are you okay?" You start sobbing in front of him and he gives you the towel as he comes back."Never mind, that was obviously a stupid question, come on in and go get a shower."

You're nice and warm by the time you come back to the kitchen, he's made you shower and given you some food. So now you two sit down on his couch and he holds you close to him. he's not saying anything and neither are you, but you know he wants you to talk about it."So, I kinda had a breakdown about some relationship stuff right now." You guys laughed at the obviousness of it.

"Did you want to talk about it?" He looks at you laying down on his chest, tangling your legs with his, in his shirt, in his pants. God he wished you would-

"Kinda, I don't have to if you don't want me to." He shook his head to the sides and you sighed deeply," I knew you would say that, okay, it's kinda embarrassing if I'm being honest."

He laughed at you, "Nothing could be more awkward and embarrassing for me to listen to than when you told me, in detail, about your crush on Bakugou." You contorted your face in distaste at him and he just kept laughing.

"Bakugou is hot and I stand by all that I said asshole." You shook your head. "But I was very embarrassing."

It got quiet again and you put your face in the crook of his neck. "So, I figured out that I ....fuck okay so...." You move back to face him and stare at him in the eyes. "Don't laugh but I realized I only want a sexual relationship with someone at the moment. I started crying because I felt like I'd been lying to myself and I've just been under a lot of stress lately." Your blush is not less bright than his at all and he can't do anything but avoid your pretty little face looking at him than to push you into his chest and look up at his wonderfully beautiful ceiling he's never had the time to admire before this.

"You could have said that to me without the weird eye contact but whatever, go on."

You laugh hysterically, a little high on your emotions, "Okay hear me out. I'm a hero right? And using a loved one as leverage is a very classic villain plan. So I thought that was why I didn't want a relationship. Now I figured out it's just the stress! I want something like that eventually but right now? I just want something with someone to destress."

You move your head up to look at him and he moves his hand away from the back of your head, his emotions are going haywire right now. What is he supposed to say to that??? Do you want him to find someone for you to hook up with or???? And then he realizes-"I am not setting you up with Bakugou-"

"-OH MY GOD SHUT UP ABOUT IT ALREADY IT WAS A ONE-TIME THING." You shake your head and laugh incredulously at him. "I'm allowed to be attracted to people who aren't good for me okay? Is it really that bad?" Izuku rolls his eyes at you, "Yes. Yes, it is."

You roll your eyes back at him," Whatever that's not what I wanted to ask anyway." you scooch up onto his chest a bit more and put your hands under your chin as you look into his eye with your best pleading face." Would you do me the honor of being my destresser?"

He could explode right now.

Like seriously what?

".....You want me to what now???"

"Would you rather I phrase it differently?"

"To make sure we're on the same page yes-"

"Fuck the stress out of me buff man."

"Jesus Christ." He practically lifts you off of him like a doll,"If you were going to prank me like this," he sets you onto his couch and walks to his bathroom to go wash the heat off his face, "do it over text next time."

You follow him into the bathroom," It's not a prank! I'm for real okay? Look-" he looks puts his head further near the sink, he doesn't want you to see his red face,"-the way I see it is we're both busy as fuck. We both are mature adults looking for something intimate, which you have not found yet may I add, that could both put someone in danger otherwise." He scrubs his face and takes a deep breath, turning his water off and looking at you calmly.

"Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, why me then?" He knows he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth but he's not going to do this if it's just for the fun. He wants to actually mean something to you other than someone to fuck. "You could have chosen any one of our other friends. So why me?"

You grab his hands and lift them to your lips,"Izuku, I care about you so much. You're one of my closest and best friends in the entire world and I am so lucky to have you. You have supported me in any way you possibly could, and I hope that I've done the same for you. So I want us to support each other as much as we need in this." You look him in the eyes," Plus you could snap me in half and are one of the only people I could fight that has the stamina to keep going at me."

".....you're so fucking lucky I like you. Fine! Okay fine."

"YES!"

So for the rest of the night(morning?), you two plan out how this is going to work. Rules, boundaries, kinks (by god he's going to need a break), and what times you guy can and can't.

It works well actually. Better than Izuku expected. He's just ecstatic he gets to finally hold you.......until he doesn't.

Now Izuku knows you two discussed boundaries and the fact you can call each other practically any time but for the next week, he seriously couldn't get the mind power to just swallow his fears and call you up. Not to say he wasn't thinking of you, by god he did that every single day even more since then, he just didn't want to bother you.

But then you called him. It was 11 pm and you were very horny. He picked up the phone and immediately just, "Hello?"

"I need you to plow me into my mattress it's been a week, come over as soon as you can, I'll be waiting sir-"

And that was the end of the call. Your house is like 20 minutes away from his but he somehow made it there in 10. He didn't even text you he was coming, so you thought he was busy.

So you were just on your couch, scrolling on your phone until a rushed knock at the door, you opened it, and were immediately kissed on the mouth.

Just a whole ass surprise makeout, he holds you up in his arms and pushes you against the door. You pull away to breathe and just look down to see this large monster of a man pressing his massive chest to yours, heaving so out of breath like he'd just ran a marathon (he practically did). Just staring up at you so desperately, you're not going to lie it was a nice view. You laugh a bit hysterically as he kisses you repeatedly. Then he works his way to your neck, still holding you up with his arms but fondling your chest and ribcage. He nips your neck and sucks so hard you're sure to have some nice little hickies in the morning. You moan as he pulls on your nipples and rubs your pecs in his hands.

Your mind goes fuzzy as you hear him whisper, "Dirty little slut left me with nothing after your little call. Think it was funny?" He kisses your neck again, licking down to your collar bone, "Think it's funny to leave me with nothing? Just the thought of this dirty little pup begging me to come over?"

You moan into a laugh at the fact he seems more desperate for this than you are. "Laughing now are we?" You immediately quiet down, his hands travel to your waist, and grinds his leg into your crotch.

"Oh gods-" He pushes into you again as you moan,"-f-fuck!"

"Damn puppy. Didn't know you had such a dirty little mouth. Why don't you show me how you use that little mouth when I actually get started with you."

He takes you into your bedroom, pressing your hard dick against his own and sucking on your neck even more.

You pant heavily onto his shoulder shaking from anticipation as he brings you into your room.

He pushes you down on the bed into a folded missionary position. You're hazy and in hysterics, as he talks more, "God, look at you! What a fucking slut for me. Come on puppy look me in the eyes and tell me what you want."

You look up and his smile is devious. It's alluring. He's practically ravishing you with his eyes. He’s taking your clothes off and feeling you up, “Your tastey skin, so smooth and soft. Do you know what I’m gonna do to it puppy?” Your head is swimming with full unbridled warmth and lust, you can’t even respond so he takes your face in his hands and makes you look at him,” I’m gonna mark you up so well, give you all the hickies and bites I want to put on you until you’re barely unbruised. How does that sound?”

You yell out, “Yes! YES! Puppy will be good for you please? Want it so bad.” He laughs at your responses, leaving your naked body vibrating on the bed and he moves away to take his own clothes off. His toned muscles flexing without meaning to as he takes his shirt and pants off of himself. Sliding his boxers down his toned calfs.

You stay laying there, letting out hysteric laughs and panting as he stretches you out with his fingers. And he keeps his promise, biting and niping all over your thights and stomach. You fall from your hysterical high as he pulls his mouth away until he takes your dick in his mouth and you’re pushed all the way back up the hill, arching your back and crying out for him as you grab the head board.

God you haven’t been so sensitive since you don’t even remember when. He’s sucking you off and his fingers are reaching just the right spots in you. Sliding onto his fingers down to the knuckle of his pointer and middle finger, flexing and massaging just the right spot, just until he takes a deep breathe. Then he takes all of you into his mouth and presses down on your most sensitive spot,” OH GOD, FUCK! Yes~ IZUKU PLEASE, I’M CUMMING!”

You cream into his mouth so hard. He pulls himself up off the mattress and off your dick once he finished sucking it all out of you. He licks the rest off his lips and hums in delight,” You taste better then I’ve ever imagined.” Ah, you blush so red as he said this. You think to yourself, he was just saying it for dramatic effect. For the moment! It couldn’t possibly be true....

God if only you knew how true that is from him.

He pulls some of the excess cum off your dick and you shiver a bit at his fingers grazing your tip. His magic hands. And he brings them to lube his dick back up,” Gonna fill my puppy with their own cum, how about it, slut?”

His eyes are crazy, this is a whole new side of Izuku you’ve never seen from him. And by the gods above are you excited to see it.

He presses your legs down so they’re almost flat by your arms and climbs up halfway atop your thighs. He slides himself into you and,” f-f-UCK!” He’s fucking huge.

Your partners have been quite average in the past. Nothing to scoff at but not as big as Izuku. You feel lightheaded as he pushes himself all the way in. “Look at you, my pathetic little puppy, breaking on my dick. Not even halfway there pup, but I’ll be nice this time.” He stops and you thank god and curse at him as well. You feel like you’re gonna be ripped apart yet you still crave so much more.

He gives you a second to catch your breathe, then he leans over, presses your legs farther, and starts pounding into your pretty little hole. Absolutely destroying your insides. You’re crying and whimpering and all it does is drive him to go faster and harder. To milk all those pretty little sounds out of your pretty little mouth. You’re crying on his dick and it fuels his ego,” You’re crying already? God look at you, so pretty and stupid on my dick. Such a good useless pup. Never had dick this good. Are you seeing god or something pup?”

His smirk is returned with teary eyes looking up at him, drooling at him,” Ye-ugh fUck-yes God, love your dick so much.” Oh fuck. That’s new.

It was so hot, imagining you praying and worshipping “your God’s” dick. Izuku being rode by you as you cry out for your God.

He laughs hard and leans down to get a better grip on the sheets, stopping for a moment, and then pounding you into the mattress. It felt like he was trying to hammer you down into the mattress to press you hard enough you’d become one with it. “That’s right baby! Ahaha! You feel so good I’m your god? My little puppy’s so dumb on their god’s dick right?”

You cry out to him, repeating over and over,” God! My God! Please god!” And you cum hard, over and over on his dick for the rest of the night. Orgasming and being fucked through your over sensitivity again and again and again until dawn. He finally gives in after getting his fill of filling you up.

God, he was definitely the right one to go to.

And all Izuku could think about you as he cleaned up and got ready to go to sleep with you was how fucking thankful he was you broke all his boundries for him. And accepting the fact that yes, he is the biggest simp for you.

————

-Laika

[bloodycassian]

Reader x Cassian - Hellish Prompt: Reader is an assassin/spy that was caught and azriel has spent months torturing her for information and can’t get anything out of her and cassian eventually goes to see who this assassin/spy is and the mating bond snaps and cassian beats the $hitt out of az bc of the mating bond instincts and rhys has to intervene and break up the fight (i was thinking this could switch between azriel’s POV at the start and then switch to cassian's POV)

AN- this was SO fun to make. Please more requests like this!! I love the idea of unexpected mates!

TW -blood/ blades.  

Drip, drip, drip. Copper smell filled the small room. Blood leaked down the drain in the floor. You wheezed a laugh bitterly and spat on the ground at his feet. Azriel's rage simmered calmly under his dark shadows. They coiled, ready to strike. Wanting to strike. The sound of your feeble laughs was practically the only sound Azriel had gotten from you for the first week of torture.  The second week was worse, even for him. Truth teller revealed nothing when he gouged into your skin from the bottom up. Truthfully, he was impressed beyond measure. But that didnt mean that he could stop the job at hand. He had to know, and wished he didnt have to do this kind of thing to get the information from you. "Listen..." He sighed, cleaning his blade. He was always nervous whenever he had a back turned to an enemy, no matter how well they were restrained. But he trusted his shadows enough to tell him if something was wrong.  "If you just.. Cooperate and tell me where the Queens are, we can let you go. No trouble, just releasing you back to Rask." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was nearing an exhaustion point. Torture every day for two weeks had its toll not only on the victim, but the dealer as well. His shadows seemed to be growing restless too, waiting for a chance to strike.  He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. Noted the way your head hanging loosely seemed to gain a bit more strength before you spoke. "Losing your touch, Spymaster?" You revealed a row of bloody teeth to him, and grunted when the chains at your wrists stung the magic that weakly attempted to help you.  Azriel could have sighed. He could have laughed and bled you dry. Have a healer come and patch you up enough to keep you alive. The idea was tempting, but he didn't like having anyone besides his brothers see him in this mode of darkness. He could have brought Rhys down to attempt to break into your mind again. After the first attempt and Rhys' reaction to being blocked, he wasn't eager for that again. So he sighed, and brought out the potions laced with Faebane.  + He was convinced you weren't a normal Fae. After months of his best torture methods he was a wreck. "She just-" He tried to hide his frustration, but his brothers knew him best. Cassian smirked by the fire, warming his wings. Rhys seemed a bit more concerned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Azriel had never been one to spend a long time on torture. Rhys saw the frustration flowing from him after every session with the stubborn Fae in the dungeon cell.  "I dont know what to do anymore. She's the only one to have never broken." He ran a hand though his hair. His shadows seemed weak, exhausted like him.  Rhys considered for a moment, looking between his two brothers. Cassian seemed to be enjoying Azriel's frustration. Maybe a bit too much. Rhys sipped his wine then, with a look of innocence, "Maybe we will have Cassian end it. Perhaps seeing the Lord of Death in front of her will knock something loose."  Cassian's stare whipped to him, a silent plea on his face. "We should leave it to our expert Rhys-" Azriel laughed, cold and bitter. "The expert hasn't got a damn thing out of her. We either kill her or send her back to Rask with all the information she's collected about us. With nothing in return." Shame lined his features. The sense of failure to his high lord was a heavy weight to bear. "Cas...I expect you down there tomorrow afternoon. It will be her last chance." Rhys' no nonsense tone shut down Cassian's retort. His jaw locked with distaste. He hated the cramped cells below the house of wind. Hated the way going underground made his wings feel like they needed to stretch. The worst was when that stale air was laced with the rotting smell of dead mice or old blood. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it.  "Come on Cas, dont you want to see the only one that's outlasted me?" Az asked with a mock grin. He couldn't give the same smile back. Turmoil spilled inside him at the thought of going so far below the mountain.  + Cassian took a long time to go to bed that night. His restlessness about the next day made him wake up over and over, never having more than an hour of peace before being waken up.  Azriel held up a mug of tea to him the next morning. "You look like shit." He handed his brother the mug with a small smile. Cassian glared at him, but took it anyway. He went to the balcony, his heavy wings needing to feel the fresh air. It was like taking a bath after being covered in grime. He sighed in relief, letting the late morning sun graze his body. The cold wind from Illyria was beginning to come in for the winter, and the familiar smell ignited something in him. He felt a draw, but shoved it to the back of his mind. He knew what he had to be this day. "Why the hell do we have to keep them so far down again?" Cassian complained. Around and around and around. Down deeper and deeper into the pit of the mountain that the house above was carved out of. Cassian felt like his lungs were collapsing the further they went. He tried not to let his nerves show, but he knew Az's shadows would pick up on it anyway.  "Remember when you broke your arm chasing down that Attor?" Azriel could have laughed at that memory, but the story surrounding it made the experience soured. More shame on top of the guilt already there.  Cassian hummed in approval, welcoming the distraction the memory brought. He tried not to focus on how each turn of the staircase got darker and darker. How the air seemed to compress around him. He locked his eyes on the scar on one of Az's wings. "And we spent a week fixing the top story of that apothecary?" He asked, keeping his voice steady.  "Yes. Dont you remember how the Attor got out?" Cassian shook his head, and Azriel huffed a laugh. "I left the door open for just a second to get a new knife and..." He shook his head, part in anger and regret, part in shame. "It had escaped before I turned around. I dont know how it happened, to this day."  Cassian stared at the back of the shadowmaster's head. The dark ripples around him seemed to spike. "It happens Az, you can't be perfect."  "It's not perfection, its basic thought. After that we moved all enemies to the lower dungeons. No matter the threat. Rhys even put wards on the arches." He ran a hand over the walls, his fingers catching a few of the grooves that linked each spelled archway to the other.  Cassian left the conversation at that. At least his brother wasn't brooding as much as before. The dim lights began to come into view, and his heart began hammering. Adrenaline singing through his veins. His polished siphons glowed, reflecting red off the dark stone ceiling. He had polished all his black armor the night before, when he couldn't sleep. Something poked, prodded at him all night. Keeping him awake. He figured he may as well make use out of it.  "She's not going to talk to you unless you show..weakness first." Azriel said in a low voice. Cassian nodded, reaching the end of the stairwell with him.  Cassian couldn't see the dark figure in the cell, but he felt the presence nonetheless. The dark draw that you demanded. He wondered how Azriel had dealt with that pull this whole time. The tantalizing draw to you. He shook his head, pushed the hair out of his face and nodded to Azriel.  He opened the door, then began his ritual. At the start of every session he would toss a bucket of water over your body, then a bucket of salt. It made the wounds that handn't healed fully scream in pain. You jolted at the suddenness of it this time. "Good morning, shadowsinger." You ground out, voice rough with strain. Cassian watched in awe at his brother.  Cassian was never one for torture. There was a reason Azriel was appointed to this position. Watching the calm cruelness of him was jarring, but Cassian kept his face straight. He stood behind you, watching the flimsy attempts to pull at the shackles holding your arms up. Lacerations dotted each arm, some light pink scars. Some were still scabbing over. A chill ran down his spine.  "You have a guest today, would you like to see him?" Azriel's voice was cool, calm. Like he was speaking orders to a group of soldiers. He began slicing new lines into your arms, moving up to your neck. He had left your ears in tact, as a last resort if you refused to speak to Cassian. The pull Cassian felt was overwhelming. He walked a bit too quickly around you, plastered on a wicked smile for show, then crouched down. The smile faded when he finally saw your face. Your dripping hair was a horror on its own. Plastered to the skeletal cheekbones, and pale eyes. Those eyes were brighter than anything he'd ever seen. A field of flowers down the slope of Illyrian mountains. His world shifted, drawing the breath from him. "Mine." His mind seemed to roar with that alone, but in a thousand different variations. "Lover, friend, partner, mine mine mine. Mate. My mate." His lips quivered with the realization. With the way his heart soared, and the way he moved without realizing it. He choked a gasp, and fell forward on his knees before you. He saw the same astonishment in your reaction. Azriel dropped his sword, confusion and concern alert on his features. "Cas wh-" Before he could finish, before his shadows could detect that Cassian had even moved, his brother was on top of him. Cassian's knuckles stung with every punch. A new kind of rage flared inside him. It made his muscles yearn for violence. Made his teeth crave the flesh of those that so much as looked at you wrong. There was no mercy for Azriel, it was as if he was an enemy on the battlefield. Cassian held nothing back. You hung limply from the chains that bound you. Crunch after crunch sounded from Azriel. He eventually managed to push Cassian off of him. Then they locked together in battle again. Clashes of armor against armor were deafening. The snarls they ripped at each other were loud enough to make you cringe. Your heart squeezed at the sounds of Cassian's breath. At the scent of blood spilling. You pulled feebly at the chains, your mind roaring to protect him.  Your mate. You tried to watch the battle, but the weakness in your body refused to let you turn more than a few inches. They were panting, Cassian fighting with a ferocity Azriel had never seen. His eyes flared with rage, like he was possessed. "Cas-" Azriel grunted, shoving his brother backwards. His back hit yours, pushing you down and digging those stone cuffs into your wrists. You hissed in pain. Cassian roared and lunged at his brother again, and again.  The darkness that boomed outside the cell was jarring. The stone ceiling shuddered, small rocks and dirt falling from it. Cassian did not stop. He didn't hesitate, coming at Azriel with punch after punch. His fist crushed the wall behind where Az's head had been. 

"Enough." The high lord's cool command was enough to make you still your weak attempts at looking at the two. Cassian's chest heaved as he tried lifting his arm to punch Az again. Pure fury in his heart was enough to make him disobey Rhysand's order.

  Then Rhys' talons gripped him. Freezing his mind, stilling him. Rhys' face shifted to surprise at what he glimpsed at there. "Oh.." He breathed. Azriel panted, backing away from his brother, out of the cell. He locked the cell and wiped the blood from himself, his wings hanging limply behind him. "What- the hell." He panted, nursing his arm. Cassian's eyes locked to your small frame. How your muscles quivered, how your arms shook with the effort of holding yourself up. He felt Rhys' claws recede slowly from his mind, releasing each part of him one by one. He rushed to you.  He picked up Azriel's sword and with a clean, masterful swipe, broke the enchanted stone that bound you. The weak sigh that came from you was heartbreaking. His eyes pricked with tears, and he caught you before you could fall to the floor into the puddle of dried blood. He didnt notice, or care that it was there. He sat there with you, cradled you and shook with you. 

"Cassian... She's.. Cassian's mate." Rhys said slowly, astonished. He didn't take his eyes from his brother in the cell. Azriel froze in place. For a moment, the dungeon was completely still. Totally silent, as if the world waited for what was to come next.

Azriel turned on a heel and left, trudging up the stairs. Rhys dared not touch his mind. "Cassian...." He spoke, trying to get his brother's attention. He did not glance at Rhys, just curled around your body more. Protecting, nesting almost. Rhys knew the feeling too well from the weeks after he and Feyre's bond snapped into place.  "We will check in tomorrow. Be safe, brother." Rhys spoke to Cassian's mind. It was nothing but an ocean of rushing thoughts. Cassian could have bared his teeth, could have tried to fight his brother through the bars of the cell. Hell, he could have probably broken through those bars with the primal strength flowing through him with the rush from the bond. 

But he didn't. He stayed, his warm body pressed against yours. Those siphons glowing against your skin like a fire. He stroked your hair soothingly, his tears like rainfall on your body, through your bloodstained clothes. He didn't remember falling asleep there, but it was the most restful, peaceful night he'd ever had in his existence. 

[bobastar]

𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚘 𝚇 𝚏! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

“𝙰𝚈! 𝚀𝚄𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙼𝙾𝚁𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙰 𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙾“

idk i really like this song and this is what i was listening to while writing:

as you finally made your last round of serving everyone food, you sat down tiredly, fanning yourself. a ding came from the tiny door.

“perdón, we’re closed…” you got up and saw a familiar yellow ruana. “oh..camilo.” you turned back around.

“uh yeah just me…no need to get so excited” he chuckled and came up behind you, hugging you as he put his face in the crook of your neck. “i’ve missed you..” the vibrations of his voice tickled the side of your neck, as his planted little kisses upon the surface. you smiled and freaked out internally, “me too cami…” you played with his hair and leaned into his touch.

after a short break from a hectic day, you realized you still had to help clean the kitchen. “precioso, tengo que limpiar…i have to go..” although you didn’t want to, you had to finish.

“nooooo” he held on tighter and rested his chin on your shoulder. “pleaseee bonita, a little while longer??” still not loosing his grip.

“how about i finish cleaning and then we can do something? that sound okay?” you played with his hands, his arms detangling from around you, he spun you around. “fine…but! you have to ask if you can stay over…” he smiled and kissed the corner of your lip. “deal”

you finished up rather quickly, for a reason.

“uhm mami…te puedo preguntar algo?” she turned around “yes?” the rag in her hand was put on top of her shoulder. “okay so if it’s okay…can i spend the night with camilo? he has sisters and tias, he won’t be the only one there and-“ she cut you off with a light laugh “yes mija, i trust that you’re smart enough and he’s respectful. on one condition…you send his mami some mojicones, okay?”

“yes…! okay thank you mama!” you kissed her cheek and grabbed the basket. “te quiero! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“ i love you mi niña! i’ll tell your father your going with a friend.” she winked and waved bye.

“camilo!” you jumped on his back, the basket hitting his chest. “did she say yes?” he smiled widely. “mhm! she did” you got off of his back and held onto his hands. “yay! okay so i have some clothes you can borrow so you don’t have to go all the way to your house okay amor?” you only nodded wanting to hear his soothing voice more.

— (idk what his room is like so bare w/ me)

you reached the casita, saying ‘hi’ to pepa and felix, along with the other family members, handing them the basket. you’re hands started to sweat against his. this didn’t go unnoticed by camilo, he kisses your knuckles. “relax preciosa, they like you it’s okay” he leaned into your ear and whispered.

you eased a bit, and went to his room. it was well picked up, and very big. “welcome princesa” he picked you up and set you down gently on his bed. he grabbed some extra clothes and handed them to you. “here you go, you can change in here while i change in the bathroom.” he smiled and kissed your forehead “i’ll be back.”

you got out of your dress and changed into his shirt and sweats. they fit okay, a bit big but that was expected. you tied the sweats and left the shirt baggy. he knocked “can i come in cariño?” “yeah you can..” you set your dress down nearly on a chair. “awh look at you so cute with my clothes.” he smirked at your embarrassed face. “what’s wrong amor?” he cupped your face “oh my are you…embarrassed?” a small chuckled came from his lips as you hid your face in his chest.

“no stop” he tends to get too flirty, leaving you in a puddle of his affection not knowing how to handle it all. “sorry sorry..” he kissed your cheek gently lifting your head back up. “ay! que hermosura tengo” he whispered and spun youu around. “camilo!” you put your hands on your face. “what?! i cant state out the facts?” he smiles. “i’ll stop anyway because dolores is probably done with this.” he smiled and kissed you softly.

“yeah she’s probably gagging from your corniness” you laughed and jumped on his bed. “weee!” the soft pillows and blankets wrapped around you.

he crawled up beside you and pulled you close to his chest. “im not corny…i just love you” he made little circles on your back. “and i love you too tesoro.” you kissed his jawline and snuggled up against him. he sighed gently, and smiled to himself.

“i dont know, i heard you have a boyfriend, should you be saying i love you to me?” he joked. “we’re not that serious it’s okay.” he wasn’t expecting you to joke back. “oh really? so if..i don’t know, if i kissed you he wouldn’t get mad?” you shook your head ‘no’ “nope i told you we’re not serious, he has a weird face.”

“hEY- my face is not weIRD.” small voice cracks left his mouth. you couldn’t help but laugh at them, making him embarrassed. “it’s puberty leave me alone.” you got up and looked at him.

“it’s cute.” you smiled and felt a sudden urge to squish him and love him and AGH-. “y/n/n? you okay chiquitita?” he tilted his head. you nodded and kissed his forehead.

and then his cheek, and then his nose, and his eyelids, the top of his eyebrow and the corner of his lip. he giggled like a little kid “that tickles cariño!” you stopped and snuggled against him again. “what was that about?” he pulled you in.

“i have no idea but i love you.” you smiled against his neck.

he blushed and kisses your shoulder “thank you for loving me..”

“thank you for letting me love you cami..”

you guys stayed tangled up, the faint snores from him made you ease, realizing he’s still there. you closed your eyes and felt so warm, and lovesick around him. a totally new side came out of you as you see his eyes, and how his hands make you feel special just by a simple touch.

camilo couldn’t get over how you make him feel like he’s floating. it’s just you and him, no one can make him feel like you do. it’s a different kind of love, you guys are each others best friends but lovers as well. he knows you and you know him. when you tell him how much you care about and appreciate him, he can’t help but feel his heart pump out of his chest.

your gentle hard working hands fit in his calloused one’s perfectly. they way you say his name makes his stomach flutter. he notices small details and features about you. the scar on your eyebrow from when you fell as a kid, small moles around your arms and neck. how you bite your nails when your nervous.

you noticed things about him too. he sticks out his tongue when concentrating. his nervous smile when he’s in tough situations. how he moves closer to you when he feels uncomfortably around someone. how some freckles make perfect constellations. the way he helps his mami when she’s panicking.

both stars, ready to burst with love and make a stellar collision. he made your day better, while you made his nights magical. simple nights like these and busy days made you both realize how much you need one another. he dreamed about you, and you daydreamed about him.

still intertwined with each other, the warmth of you both kept the night cozy. small mumbles shared.

—

GAH DANG THIS WAS SO HARD I FRIED MY BRAIN AT 2 AM 🙁🤞🏻 i hope you liked it :-)

[obiwanobi]

Catch me thinking about sith Anakin who got in a fight w/ Palps (did Palps cross a line? Did Anakin decide he had nothing to lose? Idk), barely managed to win and is now seriously hurting and a little freaked out winding up outside Obi-wan's quarters and Obi-wan doesn't have time to draw his saber let alone figure out how a sith lord managed to get so far into the jedi temple unnoticed and Force is that blood? before Anakin's passing out with only a murmered request for help.

LISTEN you can’t keep sending me perfect prompts, how do you know I can’t resist bloody men on their knees begging for salvation, how do you know me so well??? anyway here’s 2.3k of always-a-sith!Anakin who could have been the new ruler of the empire but said ‘no thanks, this is too much responsibility, I would like to be pampered by my favourite jedi now’ (with a bit of Ahsoka as Obi-Wan’s padawan!)

 He didn’t mean to kill him.

Well, not at first.

He didn’t mean to kill Sidious, but pulling his lightsaber from his lifeless corpse only felt like complete satisfaction. A weight on his shoulders he didn't know he carried disappeared, letting him stand up above the body of his master— former master, and gaze upon what was left of him. A shapeless form on the ground. A dark cape around an old man playing at being a god. A begging mess of futile promises when he realised it was the end for him.  

As mindless fury leaves him, his ragged breathing slows down and his fist unclenches around his saber. Sidious is dead. Now that the adrenaline rush is gone, his knees start shaking. His Master is dead. His face is wet with sweat and blood and tears. Dead and now Anakin has no one.

And then...  And then fear.

"You know," Ahsoka groans as the water starts boiling, "I don't understand how you got your reputation of Cool Jedi Master. Other padawans think I'm lying when I tell them you wear the ugliest slippers at home and gets excited by new tisanes."

"You gifted me those slippers."

"As a joke. And you still wear them."

"I'm not going to throw away perfectly good slippers." Obi-Wan wiggles his toes under the red and yellow fuzzy monstrosities, just to see his padawan rolls her eyes. "And they're really comfortable."

"So you're just going to stay there, then? Your whole battalion is out celebrating our first day of leave since forever, but you prefer to drink your tea alone and go to bed at 22:00?"

"No one wants an authority figure around when they're letting loose and celebrating, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan says, pouring hot water in his cup. He raises the kettle towards his padawan as a question, to which she shakes her head. "I thought you would be happy to see me putting sleep before work for once."

"I am, Master, but I thought it could be..." She trails off, fidgeting with the hilt of her sabers. For once, she looks like a typical padawan, just like he was at her age, dying to enjoy one night away from the temple and any kind of responsibilities.

"It's alright my dear," he sighs, "you can join them if you want."

Ahsoka suddenly perks up. "I can?"

"If you're old enough to be sent to the front, I think you can handle yourself for one night on Coruscant."

"Thank you Master! I promise I'll be careful and not come back too late!"

"You do that, and-- wait, Ahsoka," he adds as she's already halfway through the door, "make sure to stay around Cody! And no alcohol of any kind! And don't lose your lightsaber at sabacc again!"

"That was you!" she yells from the end of the corridor, "don't worry, I'll be fine! Don't wait for me to go to bed! Goodnight Master!"

Obi-Wan smiles, blowing on his cup. He already sent a message to Cody earlier to keep an eye on her, so he knows she's in good hands.

He has his herbal tea, his ugly slippers, no reports to read or write, and no immediate Separatist menace to plan for. For once, a perfectly good night to catch up on sleep and meditation.

So, of course, something has to be wrong.

The Force is bright. The Force is lighter than it has ever been for the past few years.

And Obi-Wan can't understand why.  

It's not just him that can feel it: Ahsoka has acted chipper since, more like the teenager she is, laughing with the clones and playfully teasing him the whole fly back to Coruscant. The temple has felt livelier than ever when they arrived, Jedi from all ages going about their day with a new spring in their step, greeting each other warmly in the corridors. Even Master Yoda has taken a few minutes during their Council meeting to note the shift in the Force. No Master could pinpoint the origin of this change, but all agreed that something good happened somewhere in the galaxy, and they were just feeling ripples of the effect in the Force.

Still now, the whole temple feels a bit more like it used to, before the war, and all Jedi are a bit happier without knowing why.

Only Obi-Wan feels like a noose tightening around him. Whatever it is, it's slowing making its way around his presence in the Force. Focusing on him and him alone. Doesn't matter how much Obi-Wan tries to hide himself, it's getting closer and never slowing down or losing interest.

Needless to say, Obi-Wan has a bad feeling about this.

But after almost three years of war, sullen faces and grim expressions, he doesn't feel like dampening the sudden good mood around the Temple just with a few words. He can probably deal with whatever it is by himself.

His tisane is cold when he finally emerges from his meditation. Nothing is clearer than when he started: the Force is deaf to his questions and inquiries, still light as a breeze. An airy unconcern for his restlessness. And yet, a thick pressure still looms around him, getting heavier each passing second now.

His fingers start pulling on his collar.

The clock on the wall indicates that he lied to Ahsoka when he said he was going to bed at a respectable time today. No diurnal Jedi would still be up right now, but he still considers going out to knock at Mace's door. Narrowed eyes and a very long sigh will be his first answer, but Obi-Wan knows that Mace would never refuse to hear him out. Yes, he finally decides when the pressure seems to creep even closer to him, it's worth waking up Mace.

He opens his door, wondering if he should take his robe with him, and instantly stops walking.

There, in the empty corridor of the Jedi Temple, at his door and on his knees, is a Sith. He knows it's a Sith only because he recognises this specific mass of hair, the large shoulders, the dishevelled dark robe. He knows it's a Sith because he has crossed path with this one enough times on the battlefield to recognise him anywhere. Outside of it a few times too. He isn't sure it's a Sith when the Sith raises his head up, bloody and bruised face torn in an agonizing expression, and his eyes are blue.

"I— I didn't know where to go," Darth Vader says quietly, with the kind of voice expected from a lost child. It gives Obi-Wan a second shock to hear his voice, making his presence suddenly real. "You said... You said if I ever wanted to, if I needed help one day, you would— I could—"

Obi-Wan remembers it. He remembers all the times he offered his help. His pleas for him to stop the violence, the appeals to reason, the multiple suggestions of a gentler path. His hand continuously outreached but never taken. He remembers the burning gold of the Sith's eyes too, and his black cape floating above the dead clones at his feet.

His laughter the first time Obi-Wan brought up the idea of lowering their blades and talking around a cup of tea. His sneer the third time Obi-Wan tried to change his misconceptions about the Jedi Order and play-flirt with him in the same breath. The silence the fifth time Obi-Wan asked him his name, his real name, the one a parent gave him.

The tears the last time he gave it to him.

"And you're always trying to save me," Vader adds more forcefully now, like the words anger him, "you're always here, showing up almost every time I'm sent somewhere with your stupid smile and stupid words, and you're always nice, and... and teasing, and disappointed when I kill someone, like you expect me to be better, and I don't understand you, but..."

Vader raises his hand towards him, and it's only this sudden move that shakes Obi-Wan out of his stupor. Before the Sith can touch his leg, Obi-Wan calls his lightsaber to him, ignites it in one fluid motion, half-expecting Vader to be up and swaying his saber in his face by now. But the Sith is still on his knees, and it's only now that the blue light of his blade is above him that Obi-Wan realises the state he's in. His face isn't the only thing bruised and battered: his dark tunic is stained with blood and ripped in more than one place, one of his arms is bent in an unnatural way, and it looks like a cut above his hairline is still bleeding, making his curls stick to his face in a mess of wet hair and burned skin.

"Vader," Obi-Wan says slowly, when his thoughts finally regain a semblance of coherence. A rapid investigation through the Force assures him that no other enemy is around and the calm and quiet of the night in the Temple isn't a prequel for a storm. "How did you get in here? What are you doing here? How—"

Vader's hand, stuck in the space between them, reaches once again for Obi-Wan. Foolishly, Obi-Wan lets him. His fingers twist themselves in the fabric of his pants.

"He made me killed them all.” Vader wobbles on his knees for a second, the hand on Obi-Wan's leg gripping it tighter. “No platoons, no battle droids. Just me. He sent me to the power station and I cut through them so easily, so quickly, they didn't even fight back, and I didn't think that..." he trails off, panting. "Until.... until I saw the electro-whips." 

"Are you talking about Naphtla?" he asks when Vader doesn't seem to be able to continue.

Naphtla. Outer Rim. Barely on the Republic radar until this afternoon, when nearby troops answered a distress signal and found a hidden Separatist power station operated by slaves. A third of them were dead, killed only a few hours before, and the survivors turned to the Republic for immediate support. Slaughtered like animals, the rescue team reported to the Council only a few hours ago, by one single man wielding a red lightsaber. According to witnesses, the darksider cut through the slaves like bantha butter, killing everyone in his path without discrimination, until he stopped for no apparent reason and abruptly left.

"You were the one who killed the people at the station there," Obi-Wan realises out loud, horrified, "the slaves from Zygerria."

Vader snaps his head up and his fingers tighten painfully around Obi-Wan's knee. "I DIDN'T KNOW!"

All Obi-Wan's senses and logical thoughts urge him to back out, put an end to this nonsensical charade, raise his lightsaber between them, get away from the dark, hungry void Vader generates in the Force.

But his eyes are looking up to him. Gripping his gaze with the same intensity as his hand on his leg. Bloodied face and pleading, on his knees. Full of tears.

Obi-Wan doesn't push Vader's hand away.

"I didn't know they were slaves, I didn't!"

"Vader."

"He never said! He sent me without telling him, he knows I don't—" A small noise sounding suspiciously like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

"Vader, who sent—"

"When I came back," he tries again, quieter. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to ask about this he, but Vader's head lolls for a second, too heavy to support, before butting gently against Obi-Wan's leg. Vader makes no effort to move, content to stay there, and after a second, a small, almost timid nuzzle against his thigh sends a series of shivers through Obi-Wan's spine. It shuts him up instantly. "When I came back, he looked at me for so, so long, before saying that he knew, he knew I was going to fail, that I was... just like them after all, and that I could never... And I was so mad, so angry at him, so I... I..."

The last words are muffled by the fabric Vader clings to. Hides into. There's blood on Obi-Wan's pants now.

"What have you done, Vader?" Obi-Wan asks, softer than he intended. "Vader," he asks again when no reply comes, without success. The hand not holding his lightsaber moves, hesitates for a moment, then settles lightly on Vader's hair, mindful not to touch any open wounds. His fingers nudge him to tip his head back, gently, carefully, and settle on his cheek to hold his face up, looking at him. "Anakin." His name, his true name, makes him blink a few times. "Anakin, what have you done?"

"I killed him," he finally admits, barely audible. He looks exhausted, more like a child in need of rest than ever.

"Who did you kill?"

"My master."

"Dooku? You killed Dooku?"

"No," Vader— Anakin frowns, like Obi-Wan should know better. "Sidious."

It's a bit much to process in one day. Another Sith Lord, Vader's master, concealed and kept a secret, now dead, killed by his apprentice —and does that make Vader the ruling Sith Lord now? Do Sith have rulers?— the lightness in the Force the same day, a half-dead Vader begging for help in the middle of the night in the Jedi Temple, and all of that while Obi-Wan is still wearing his ugly slippers.

He's so glad he sent Ahsoka away for the night.

Anakin doesn't let him time to feel the migraine coming.

"I can't do it, I can't be my master, I can't— and Dooku hates me, he will never help me, even if I let him have it all, he will never..." Vader seems to run out of steam, and lets his eyes close as his head falls once again against Obi-Wan's thigh. Closer. "You said you could help me. You said I could come to you at any time. You said you would always be there if I didn't want to... do this, anymore."

"I did," Obi-Wan assures him, his hand lightly petting his hair again.

Anakin lets out a long breath. His fingers tighten on the fabric of Obi-Wan's pants, loosen, and tighten again.

"You're the only one I trust," the Sith quietly tells the Jedi, and it's the saddest thing Obi-Wan has ever heard.

[cacoetheswriting]

a saturday ritual

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: mild swearing, a single parent home, mentions of death (death of a parent & a significant other), mentions of alcohol consumption, and a lil pining, but mainly just FLUFF Word Count: 5.6k Request: anonymous: “I love your Spencer Reid fics! I was wondering if you could write something with Spencer and a single mom reader?? Thanks”

A/N: a very brief summary: spencer is infatuated by his new neighbour, a single mom to a five year old boy who likes to wreak havoc in their shared corridor. also, this one turned out to be a lot A LOT longer than i initially thought it would be but honestly i had so much fun writing this fic, it really could have gone on foreverrrrr ENJOY and as always let me know what you think ! 

-

For about a week after you moved into the apartment across from his, Spencer wondered what would be an acceptable excuse to go introduce himself.

Having been away on a case those first couple of days, he missed the initial opportunity. Later, his colleagues told him that was enough of a justification. Much later. Too late. Now the moment has passed, and he wondered whether pretending he needed salt or sugar was a good enough pretext. Lame.

He's caught glimpses of you out in the shared hall returning from the grocery store, or by the post box downstairs collecting your mail. Glimpses. Passing fleeting seconds. Never enough time to say hello, however enough to notice you were really beautiful.

Also enough to notice the little boy constantly tugging at your clothes. From what he could see, the resemblance was uncanny. The boy was your son no doubt. And given that Spencer hasn’t seen another adult around, he came to a conclusion you were a single mom.

It was now Saturday morning. Saturday. A day he usually spent grading papers and preparing class materials for the week ahead. And this weekend began no differently.

With a cup of coffee, he sat at his desk and began working away when an odd droning sound caught his attention. Buzzing. Yet it wasn’t mechanical, no. The peculiar hum echoing outside seemed more manmade. Childlike.

Yes, the brunette doctor deducted, the buzzing sounds he was currently hearing were most definitely airplane noises made by a kid.

At first, he decided to pay no attention to what was going on outside his door. He felt bad enough for not going to introduce himself, so he wasn't about to become the mean man from across the hall who gave out about playing children.

After taking a sip of his coffee, he proceeded to bury his head in the papers scattered across his desk. The sound wasn’t too loud meaning it wasn't a big distraction. He could continue to get his work done despite the clatter.

It was then he heard your voice for the first time. The melodic tone drew him in even more than the buzzing echo. 

Dropping his pen, he instantly got to his feet and ambled towards the front door - now was his chance. 

His hand hovered over the knob, but before he got a chance to do anything, he heard a slam. The noises stopped. Silence once again filled the hall outside.

The hazel-eyed doctor felt slightly foolish. He didn't really know what he wanted to accomplish by springing up so fast. Even if he managed to catch you, what was he going to say? I heard your voice, and wanted to see you. Stupid. You would think he's absolutely clinically insane. I heard you out here, and wanted to finally introduce myself. Better. Although still a little weird.

With a sigh, he sunk back in his seat and continued with his usual Saturday routine. Hoping he would get another chance.

Sunday he heard the buzzing again. Only this time he was walking up the stairs, returning from a late afternoon stroll. 

Once he reached his floor he came face to face with the source of the airplane noises currently echoing throughout the building.

Spencer thought the young boy couldn't be more than five. He was wearing a jumper that was clearly too big on him. Probably one of yours, Spencer thought. Arms spread out by his side, the oversized garment covering his hands in full, the kid ran circles up and down the corridor. A wide grin on his face. The hoodie dragging on the floor collecting dustballs.

Mixed with the noises was the sound of your laughter, coming from inside your apartment. The honey-like harmony was like music to Spencer's ears. A small smile crept up on his features; what the hell was going on with him? How could he possibly feel an attraction to someone he’s never met, held a conversation with.

The boy stopped abruptly when he noticed Spencer. His arms fell, and he ran into your apartment. Vanished as if he’d seen a ghost. Although, he must have been waiting, looking out for when the coast was clear again, because as soon as Spencer closed his own door the buzzing resumed.

It continued on for hours.

Having spent time with JJ’s boys, Spencer was no stranger to the amount of energy little kids possessed. Often when playing he would be the one to grow tired first. He would be the one that needed a break while they continued to wreak havoc. Therefore the noises didn't bother him. He went about his evening, subconsciously listening out for your voice.

The next few days were quiet.

Not like he spent a lot of time at home anyway. Between his classes and his unpredictable work hours with the FBI, he only went back to his apartment to sleep. And that was usually really late at night.

Thursday evening, after a surprisingly short day, he was fumbling through his bag in search for his key when the sudden urge to go and finally say hello came over him. He knocked on your door and instantly heard shuffling inside. There was no turning back now.

Soon you were standing in front of him. Subtly, he looked you up and down. His grip on the strap of his bag tightening. Wow, you were even more beautiful than the glimpses he caught. 

That came off rather stalker-ish, he took a mental note.

“Hello. Can I help you?” You asked while leaning against the frame, one hand holding the door so not let the brunette stranger see inside.

“Hi, I’m Spencer. I live across the hall.” He introduced himself, examining your face for any sort of reaction. Completely blank. “Can I help you?” You repeated. The brunette doctor was slightly taken aback by your cold shoulder. He pursed his lips into a thin smile. “No. I just wanted to introduce myself and say that if you needed anything-” “Thanks.” You cut him off and closed the door in his face.

Spencer took a step back. That definitely didn’t go as he thought it would. He rationalised your behaviour as a response to his tardiness with regards to greeting you and your son in the building. Although he still couldn’t believe you were so, for lack of a better word, bitchy.

Glancing one last time at your door, he unlocked his own and stepped inside. At least now he could say he tried introducing himself. He tried being the friendly neighbour.

Saturday arrived once again in the blink of an eye. This particular morning, the hazel-eyed doctor had an abundance of papers to grade. He made himself comfortable and got to work.

Unlike last week, when the airplane noises didn't bother him, today he found them to be quite irritating. He would reread the same sentences at least twice before he even began to understand them. Not ideal.

Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his already messy curls and let out a deep sigh. He really needed to concentrate, but he also didn't want to be a dick about it. Possibly making the already tense situation even worse.

Quickly, and rather impulsively, he gathered his things. He put on his shoes, threw his bag over his shoulder, and walked out into the hall.

This time the little boy was sitting on the floor in the middle of the corridor. In his hands he gripped two toy planes, flying them around in the air. The boy looked up at Spencer and smiled, but continued to play. Spencer smiled back while locking his door, and proceeded to make his way down the stairs.

Yes. He felt good about his decision to work somewhere else for the day.

That evening, as he was about to reheat some leftovers, there was a knock on the door. It was faint. So faint in fact he wasn't sure if he heard it at first. For a split second he hesitated, his attention now focused solely on the door. Another knock. Louder this time. He hurried over and opened it to greet the mysterious guest.

You.

Dressed in an oversized band t-shirt, one Spencer didn't recognise, and a pair of biker shorts - all covered in spatters of colourful paint. Your hair was up in a bun with loose strands escaping by your face. Spencer also noticed a yellow paint smudge on your left cheek, and white speckles on your forehead. Despite the dishevelled attire, you looked considerably more relaxed than the day he went to introduce himself.

“I guess I should start off by apologising.” You began in that melodic tone he first heard last week. “When you came by, I was really rude. I'm not usually like that, I swear. It’s just I have a lot on my plate right now. Benny’s grandparents, from his dad’s side, are giving me grief for moving so far away from them. Even though it’s only an extra twenty minute drive. But you know, they are Benny’s grandparents and I love them. They’re family. Anyway, minutes before you knocked I was on the phone with them, again about the same thing, and the conversation put me in a foul mood. Which really isn’t an excuse for the way I acted towards you so, yeah, inexcusable. I’m sorry.”

The hazel-eyed doctor couldn't help but lightly smirk. He’s never met anyone that rambled nearly as much as him. He’s learned more about you in the last ten seconds than he did the whole time you lived across from him.

“Okay. Okay, you’re smiling. That’s a good sign, right?” You brought your hands to your face, gently pressing your fingertips to the corners of your mouth as if to cover the embarrassment you were no doubtly feeling right now. “Because I did actually come here to invite you over for pizza. A truly lame attempt to try show you that I am in fact a good person and not that bitch you met.”

“I love pizza.” Spencer simply stated causing a sigh of relief to escape your lips.

“Great. That’s great.” A warm expression graced your facial features. “Oh, I’m Y/N by the way.” You were about to reach out your hand when you noticed the colourful paint covering your fingers. “Mom life.” You joked, cheeks flushing a soft pink, and let your arms fell back down to your side.

You patiently waited for Spencer to grab his keys and phone before making your way across the hall.

Your apartment was slightly larger than his, two bedrooms, and the decor also couldn’t have been more different to his own. Colourful, vibrant, homey. Those would be the words he’d use to describe what he was witnessing.

In the middle of the living space stood a dark green couch. Draped over it were numerous blankets, hiding underneath them were mismatched throw pillows. On the coffee table lay a stack of books, surrounded by children’s toys. The wall behind the television was decorated from corner to corner with various sized frames. Inside those frames were different movie posters, photos, random prints, and what he speculated was some of Benny’s artwork.

He was in awe as to how fast you managed to make this place feel like your own.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna quickly wash my hands to try get this pesky paint off, and then we can order food.” With that you disappeared leaving Spencer alone to examine the rest of your place.

His attention was caught by a not so white bedsheet, opposite end of the living space. It was covered in paint. On top of the sheet, stood an old pickle jar that was filled with water. It held numerous brushes. Next to it was a plastic box with tubes of acrylic paint with every colour a person could possibly dream of.

Spencer took a couple of steps towards the bedsheet. He didn't want to seem nosey, he just wanted to get a better look at the currently drying canvases. A distinct pitter of small feet caused him to stand up straight, frozen, as if he was caught doing something illegal.

“A-are, are you the pizza guy?” Benny asked curiously, tilting his little head to one side.

“No uhm, I’m Spencer. I live across the hall.” He explained. “Your mom invited me.” That felt like an important thing to add.

Benny sized him up. His eyes narrowed, lips pursed into a serious pout, nose scrunched. He crossed his little arms as if he was daring Spencer. It was rather silly, this five year old trying to intimidate a grown man, and yet the brunette doctor began to feel nervous. He didn't understand why. He was usually really good with kids.

“Benny, bunny, quit trying to scare our guest.” You returned, grabbing your sons attention and breaking the odd charade. Benny’s gaze traveled to you. “Go do a little clean up of your toys please. I saw those planes your pops bought you in the bathtub. That’s not their place, is it?” Benny shook his head and ran off with a loud chuckle.

You glanced at Spencer and shot him a kind smile.

“Sorry about that. He gets the whole intimidation thing after his dad.” “That’s okay.” Spencer replied. You could tell he was being nice, just like he could tell Benny’s dad was a touchy subject. Spencer wasn’t about to make it worse. It wasn’t his place. And you didn't know him well enough yet to spill the secrets of your past relationship. Therefore, the two of you stood completely still for an awkward second just looking at one another.

“Would you like anything to drink?” You asked, breaking the silence. “We have orange juice, water, or mom juice.” “Mom juice?” Spencer raised an intrigued brow. “Wine.” You explained giggling. Spencer nodded his head with a smile. “I’ll have some mom juice then.” “Good choice.”

As he sat down on the couch, you receded into the kitchen, returning shortly with two plastic cups in hand. “I forgot to ask which you’d prefer, red or white, so I brought a glass of each. Whatever you won’t have, I’ll drink.” You reached out your hands. Spencer took the cup with red wine, his fingers brushing gently against yours in the process. Spark. No, he thought. He was imagining things.

Unknown to the brunette doctor, you felt it too. The blood rushed to your face for a split second as you nervously cleared your throat before taking a sip of your wine.

“You have to forgive the plastic cups. One of Benny’s latest favourite activities is pretending to be an airplane and breaking everything in sight, so I locked all my nicer glassware away.” You explained while elegantly plopping down next to Spencer. “Plastic cups are nice. It’s like a picnic.” God, how dumb. He mentally smacked himself. Idiot.

However, your light giggle indicated you didn’t seem to mind. Your eyes widened a little, and he could have sworn they were glistening. “Well thank you Spencer. You’re the first person to say something nice rather than commenting on my parenting style.”

It was the first time you said his name out loud. And in that melodic tone of yours, it echoed inside his brain like a song. Leaving a permanent mark.

“My mom thinks I need to discipline him more, but no-one ever said it would be this hard alone.” You babbled on, completely oblivious to the silent commotion currently going on inside Spencer’s mind. “Benny’s dad was the bad cop per se, I’m no good at it. My son can cause all the trouble in the world, and still all it would take is for him to look up at me with those bunny eyes and all is good again. Probably because he has his dad’s eyes...” You stopped yourself, and chewed down on your bottom lip.

“Sorry.” You fluttered your lashes at the man sitting next to you. “I’ve been told I talk too much.”

Spencer brought the cup to the brim of his mouth and chuckled. “Don’t be. I’ve been told the exact same thing.” He took a sip of his wine.

“I find that hard to believe. You’ve barely squeezed in four full sentences these last fifteen minutes, while I just go on and on and on.”

“Give it time. I guarantee you’ll be sick of me by the end of the night, and I will never get invited over for pizza again.”

Without thinking, you reached out and placed your hand on his forearm. The air hitched in Spencer’s throat as his eyes briefly traveled down to where you were gently grasping. “Consider this your weekly invite.” You said in a silvery tone and proceeded to give his arm a gentle squeeze.

Just like that, Spencer’s Saturday routine was richer by one more item. Perhaps the most important item on the list. Pizza at the apartment across from his.

Truthfully, it was his favourite time of the week. 

During those weekly visits, Spencer quickly learned a lot about you. Where you grew up, any likes and dislikes, hobbies, facts about your family. He learned that you used to teach art at a high school; a job you loved but ultimately decided to leave after you became a single parent. Now, you work at an art gallery only a few blocks from here.

Spencer evened out the scale by sharing his own stories and fables. You were quite surprised to hear about the numerous doctorates he possessed, the work he did, some of the shit he went through, and honestly just how smart he actually was.

Each time you met, you each discovered something new about one another. Something that made you seem even more interesting in the other persons eyes. 

Although, an unspoken agreement was in place, the topic of Benny’s dad was off limits. For now.

When Benny got comfortable having Spencer around, the weekly pizza routine evolved into other activities involving you and your son. Movie nights. Walks to the park. Playground visits. Home-cooked dinners at yours. Puzzle afternoons at his. Spencer taught Benny and you magic tricks, while you taught Spencer how to paint.

Soon enough you were exchanging keys and before either of you even realised, six months passed.

Spencer spent Saturday morning preparing class materials for the week ahead, as usual. Through the thin walls he could hear unmistakable airplane noises and patter of feet running up and down the corridor. He smiled to himself. The echo was a pleasant reminder it was only a few hours until he would see you for pizza.

See during these last few months, Spencer fell head over heels for you. He fell hard. The ever present smile on circling your already perfect features when he was around, your honey-like laughter, your lavender scent, the way you were with Benny, the way you always watched the hazel-eyed doctor with such great interest whenever he broke out into an obscure fact.

The more time he spent with you, the more his love grew.

Spencer knew that he could never act on it. If he was a selfish man perhaps, but he wasn’t. He would never put his own needs ahead of your friendship as it wasn’t just you and him in this scenario. He had to consider Benny. What if the relationship went south and he was just another man to break both of your hearts? No. He’d never act on his feelings. There was way too much at stake.

Though he still considered himself lucky. Having a place in your life, being your friend. That’s lucky.

“Right on time as always.” You beamed as Spencer stumbled inside, closing your apartment door behind him. He ambled towards the coach and sat in his now usual spot - the left corner, with you in the right.

“Where’s Benny?” He asked, looking around for the little monster. “Benny is tucked away in his bed. He kindly requested a slice of pizza to be brought to him once it arrives so it’s really just you and me tonight. Hope that’s still okay with you.” “I mean, yeah, I guess that’s fine.” Spencer teased, shrugging his shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at him, but didn't say anything else on the matter. Odd, the brunette doctor thought. You always had a witty comeback. It was one of the many things he loved about you.

“I’m sure you could tell me how many pizza nights we had exactly, so I took the liberty of ordering our food already.” You said with a small smile.

“Thirty-two pizza nights.” Spencer stated simply. You furrowed your brows. “That doesn't right.” “Taking into account every Saturday we spent together, plus pizza on your birthday, Memorial Day, and the other few evenings we didn't feel like cooking, it adds up to thirty-two.”

“Holy shit. Maybe we should start ordering salads.” Spencer chuckled at your response. “Pizza is a lot better.” He pointed out and you couldn't argue with that logic.

Food arrived shortly after. You briskly took two slices over to Benny on a plastic plate, checking up on him in the process. While you were gone Spencer chose a movie. One that you would both equally enjoy.

You sat down again, only this time you sat beside him in what is usually Benny’s spot. Shoulder to shoulder. Spencer froze completely. Thinking if he’d move even an inch, it would scare you off and you’d shift away. You reached for a blanket and draped it over the two of you before glancing up at the hazel-eyed doctor.

“Is this okay?” Contrary to the usual melodic tone of your voice, the question came out quite croaky. Nervous. He met your gaze, losing himself completely in the colour of your eyes, and slowly nodded his head.

He’s thought about kissing you before and always managed to fight the urge. Although, in all the time the two of you spent together he was never situated this close to you. Your face was a mere few inches away from his. Oh fuck. 

The moment lasted only about half a second, but to Spencer it felt like time stood still. Honestly, if you hadn’t turned away to start the movie, he probably would have lost the inner battle. He wouldn't have been able to hold himself back. He would have kissed you. Maybe he was a selfish man after all.

Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, Spencer also turned his attention to the tv. Without breaking your eyes from the screen ahead, you handed him a slice of pizza which he took gratefully. The two of you ate in silence. Enjoying the movie, but mainly each other’s presence.

The brunette man couldn't place the exact moment you cuddled yourself up to him. One minute he peeked to ask you a question about something that now seemed unimportant and you were just there, your head resting against his chest.

A smile circled his lips. He could definitely get used to this.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m completely lost.” You mumbled. “And that says a lot considering I’ve seen this movie before. I didn’t understand it then, I still don’t understand it now.”

“If you've seen this before, why did you let me choose it?” Spencer asked. You tilted to look up at him. “Because I thought you’d be able to explain it to me. You know, using that big genius brain of yours.”

Spencer chuckled. He lifted his hand and began to gently caress the top of your head. “What if I tell you my theory and it ruins the movie for you?” He asked, but you waved your hand dismissing his question. “What if you tell me and it improves the movie?”

“That’s a fair point I guess. Okay.” He continued to run his fingers through your hair as he began to explain. “The movie seems confusing because it’s actually reverse order storytelling. It kind of works its way from the end to the beginning through a series of flashbacks and flash-forwards. Therefore, as you’re watching, you get a view into Lenny’s diminishing state of mind.”

You raised a brow. “Are you sure you haven't seen ‘Memento’ before?”

He raised his hands palms up. “I swear this is my first time.” He pledged, corners of his mouth twisting into a smile. “Hmm...” “I’m just extremely observant. Plus you know I love puzzles, and this movie is like one giant puzzle.” He continued. 

“Let’s pretend I believe you Spencer.” You said squinting at him, before turning back to look at the tv. The brunette man smirked under his breath. His hand once again tangling itself in your hair.

The sound of a delicate tiptoe approaching the living room caused you to sit up and reach for the remote. Although to Spencer’s surprise you didn't move away from him. Instead, you leaned your body into his side so that if you wanted, you could place your head back on his shoulder.

“Mommy.” Benny muttered. With a little hoist from you, he scrambled into your lap. “Mommy.” “What’s up bunny? Mommy was just finishing a movie, and then I would have come check on you.”

Benny shook his head. He gripped onto the collar of your t-shirt with one hand, the other travelled to your face. He pushed himself into you, angling your head so that he could whisper something in your ear.

Spencer watched as the smile on your face widened at whatever it was Benny said. The young boy pulled away, and waited for your response. “I don’t know kiddo. Would you like me to ask him?” Benny nodded, also now grinning.

“Spencer?” You turned to address the brunette man. “What is your opinion on pillow forts?” He saw the sparkle in your eyes and he couldn't help but smile. “I love pillow forts.”

Within the hour, the living space was completely transformed into a squashy soft kingdom. Benny joyfully screamed that this was the best pillow fort ever as he crawled inside, teddybear in hand.

You nudged Spencer’s arm before staring up at him. “Thank you.” Your eyes locked as your hand slid into his with ease. Fingers instantly intertwining together like magnets. 

“We haven't done this since his dad passed. I’ve suggested it many many times, but he uhm, Benny never wanted to.” Pause. The expression on your face dulled. Mouth quivering as you spoke. “Ehm, his dad was a pilot hence my little guys obsession with planes. He died really suddenly nineteen months ago. Benny was so so small. And I don’t really know how much he remembers of his dad, I mean I tell him stories all the time and so do his grandparents, it’s just hard to tell sometimes if uhm... Pillow forts were like their thing, so after his dad I think they were too painful for Benny.”

Spencer gave your hand a gentle squeeze. You were both now standing toe to toe, facing each other fully.

“I guess Benny just needed to feel ready again. Happy even. So what I’m trying to say is, Spencer, thank you. Truly. Thank you for brining joy back into his life.” You hesitated, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Thank you for brining joy back into both of our lives.” 

It meant a lot to Spencer that you finally felt comfortable enough to share more details about Benny’s dad. He never wanted to replace the man, he wouldn't dream of it. All he really wanted since the day he met you was to make you a little bit happier, and to hear he was succeeding warmed his heart.

You immediately noticed how his face lit up ever so slightly. A miniature smile circled your lips. “I just hope we didn't obscure your life too much these last few months.”

Using his free hand, he placed the loose strands of your hair behind your ear. Gently caressing your cheek with his thumb in the process. “Are you kidding? There is nothing I would rather be doing. I love spending time with you guys.”

Your eyes sparked with admiration.

“I love our pizza nights, overanalysing different movies with you, listening to Benny’s rendition of ‘In Summer’ from ‘Frozen’. Heck, I love that I now know what ‘Frozen’ is.” You chuckled as he carried on. “I love painting with you, and how you tell me I’ve gotten a lot better at it even though we both know that’s not true. I love that you get a long with my friends. I love that I can take you and Benny over to JJ’s for playdates. Surprisingly, I love playdates. I love how you let me read to Benny when you’re cooking. I love that he loves when I read to him. And of course I love your cooking.”

Tears formed in your eyes, blurring your vision. Tears of happiness. Tears of joy. The man standing in front of you was saying all of the right things, and he didn't even know it. Or maybe he did. You couldn't really tell. The intense emotions circling through your mind right now made it hard to think.

Spencer continued. Now that he started, he couldn't stop. He wanted you to know all of these things. He wanted you to know how he felt. 

“I love when we go grocery shopping all together, and how you give out to me for my bad diet habits. I love how that always makes Benny laugh. I love how you framed a photo of the three of us and hung it up on your wall, don’t think I didn't notice. I love building lego sets with Benny. I love how the two of you call me when I’m away on a case to make sure I’m okay and tell me about your day. I love the sound of your voice. I love... I love Benny.”

He paused for a split second.

“And I especially love you.”

Tiny salty droplets trailed down your cheeks as you fluttered your lashes. “You love me?” You asked quietly. Spencer nodded his head. “I do. I’m in love with you Y/N.”

You didn't say anything. 

Spencer thought he was done for when you let go of his hand. He thought he ruined it. His nose twitched. His stomach dropped. He was about to apologise, say that if you didn't feel the same way it was definitely more than okay. He just wanted you in his life. But he didn't get a chance too.

Instead, your hand was now holding his face. Your lips attached themselves to his in one breath. He instantly noted how they were softer than he could have ever possibly imagined.

You tasted like coconut chapstick. Like bliss, delight. Instinctively, Spencer’s arm wrapped itself around your waist pulling you as close as humanely possible. He could feel your heart beating in rhythm with his. As your hand tangled itself in his curly hair, he wished this moment could last forever.

When you pulled away breathless, your cheeks were flushed pink. You briefly bit down on your bottom lip before once again meeting Spencer’s inviting gaze - his arm still holding you in a tight embrace. 

“Tell me again.” You whispered. Spencer’s lips circled into a warm smile. “I love you.” He declared. You slowly traced along his jawline with your fingertips. A bright bream circling your features. “I love you too Spencer.”

The second those words filled the air, he picked you up by the waist and spun you around. A carefree shriek slipped out from your mouth. He set you down and gently grabbing your face, he hauled you in for another kiss.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to tell you all of those things.” He muttered against your lips. His stubble grazing your chin.“How long I’ve been wanting to kiss you.” You giggled.

“Maybe one day you can enlighten me, but I think now we better crawl into that fort as it is way too quiet in there. Suspiciously quiet.” 

Spencer laughed. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” The two of you broke apart. Hand in hand, you joined Benny inside the pillow kingdom. 

The boy was tangled up in a fuzzy blanket, slowly drifting asleep. He cuddled himself up to you the second your back hit the ground. You kissed the top of his head before turning to Spencer.

“Do you want to finish the movie?” You asked quietly.

“It’s okay.” He effortlessly squeezed his arm behind your neck. This allowed you to snuggle in closer and rest against him. “We can just lay here.” “What a perfect plan.”

The smile on your face caused Spencer's heart to skip a beat. He placed a kiss to your temple feeling 100% content.

It was Saturday morning. Saturday. A day Spencer used to spend grading papers and preparing class materials for the week ahead. Now, thanks to the woman sleeping peacefully beside him, his Saturdays looked much different.

Gradually, you stirred next to him. Eyes fluttering open as a yawn escaped your mouth. “Mhmm, good morning.” “Good morning beautiful.”

“How much time do you think we have?” You asked while stretching. “I would say,” Spencer glanced at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “, about five minutes.” He looked down at you and began slowly leaning in. You couldn't help but let out a soft giggle. “Let’s make ‘em count.”

A clatter of fast approaching feet caused you to halt right as your lips were about to touch. Spencer groaned knocking his head back against the wooden headboard. 

“Your calculations were a little off Dr. Reid.” You teased sitting up as he ran his fingers through his ruffled hair. He looked at you once again with the kindest smile. You loved that smile. 

“My apologies Mrs. Reid.” He pecked your lips just as the door flew open, your kids bursting through.

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Since you started working in the castle, you’ve experienced many things.

You’ve seen other maids get slashed for nothing. You’ve seen the daughters lick a sickle covered in blood, break into a swarm of insects and then materialize someplace else. You’ve heard of the tormented wailing they cause in the dungeons.

They're things that you thought would haunt you, day and night, until you couldn’t function properly anymore. And yet. You found you could somehow still focus on your work despite it all.

How ironic is it that, in the end, it is a kiss that threatens to break your mind?

You used to think only of your survival before it, of studying routes for a potential escape. Now you can hardly focus on polishing a single goblet without getting distracted. You see her everywhere you turn, even when she’s not there. When you close your eyes at night, you can still feel her sigh against your lips.

It’s driving you crazy. She’s driving you to madness.

You don’t understand it. Any of it. It doesn’t make sense for your mind to be so stuck on someone you fear. Not unless a screw has gotten severely loose in your own head. A very possible scenario and one you don’t want to entertain.

The only semi logical explanation you’ve come up with –actually, the only one that lets you sleep at night– is that you’re subconsciously trying to humanize Cassandra. To see her as something you want rather than someone you despise, turn a negative into a positive, terror into desire. To make your life, what has become of it anyway, more bearable for you.

Yeah. You go with that.

At dinner, you keep your eyes down unless Lady Dimitrescu calls for more wine, but you can feel Cassandra’s piercing gaze on you almost like a physical touch. For two nights in a row you hear her graceful steps approach while you’re doing the dishes, but someone always calls for her before she reaches remotely near you.

And you’re glad for that.

Right?

On the third evening, while you’re tiredly walking back to your room after eight long hours of work, an arm shoots out of the shadows, grabs your wrist and pulls you off your path.

You nearly shout, but something soft, cold and unyielding covers your mouth. Your heart is giving painful kicks in your chest, your eyes are wide, frantically trying to adjust to the dark chamber. You start to calm only when you smell her perfume, but perhaps you shouldn’t.

“Relax, it’s me.” she says, like that's assuring.

You blink several times; your sight adjusts just enough to make out her hooded outline, thanks to the faint moonlight dispersing into the room from behind the nearest closed curtain.

Cassandra removes her hand from your lips once she’s sure you won’t scream.

“Hi.” she greets with what you guess is a smile.

It would perhaps be slightly endearing if she wasn’t your captor, hadn’t just startled you half to death and wasn’t dressed like the grim reaper in the pitch-black.

“H-hi.” you say back. It takes a ton of willpower not to curl in on yourself. You’re not even sure you succeed.

“Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark.” she teases, poking your shoulder. You want to tell her it’s mostly her that scares the shit out of you, but you’re not that courageous nor that stupid. “I thought you a little braver than that.”

Your lips fall open. “Why?” you speak before you think and there’s probably something in your expression that makes her giggle.

Cassandra zooms to the window and pushes the curtain to the side, slightly. “Better now, my scaredy-cat?”

“Yes, thank you.” you reply, trying hard to bypass the possessiveness in her remark and what it does to your stomach.

“Good because you need to stop shaking. I don’t have much time.” Cassandra huffs. Before you can even think to say anything, her gloved fingers tug on your shirt, a tad rough, then shove you into an armchair.

You yelp, the air momentarily knocked out of your lungs, but then her gentle weight settles into your lap and you freeze. A big part of your brain shuts down on the spot. Cassandra leans close and the angle allows the moonlight to caresses her face underneath the shadows of her hood. Its pale grace makes her look softer than usual, the gold of her eyes glowing like twin embers….

“You and I have things to discuss away from prying ears.” A thumb and pointer trap your chin in place. You're all too aware of the fact a squeeze from her is what it takes for you to never be able to talk again.

“Do you know how I wanted to get you alone like this, all to myself?” she husks, lightly biting the shell of your ear. The sting gets your blood rushing faster in your system but you aren’t cut. Yet. “Did you think about me?”

Cassandra, slow and methodical, moves further in. For a moment you think she’s going to kiss you, yet she grazes her lips against your jawline instead –it makes you shiver– until they’re right by your ear. Your knuckles curl white on the cushioned arms. Already you feel the hot caress of arousal pool low in your stomach.

And you hate it.

You don’t want to admit it out loud that you did. To either of you. Your silence seems to irk her, though, because a sharp nip comes at your pulse. “Ah! …I did.” The shameful truth instantly spills from your lips.

“Yes?” She pulls back until you’re eye to eye, lip to lip.

Having her like this on top of you now, eyes gleaming, mouth glistening and oh-so-inviting, you wonder why you ever thought you were strong enough to resist temptation.

“...Yes.”

Cassandra kisses you.

The sensation is every bit as thrilling as you remember. Rousing, like licking a double-edged knife and coming out of it uncut. It is all danger, suspension over fire, without knowing if you’ll end up warmed or burned.

The first kiss was a tiny taste of the forbidden fruit. This one is you delving right into its ripe flesh, accepting you’re already hooked. Yes, you may die. But you weren’t really living since you were brought into the castle, either.

Cassandra is busy sucking on your lower lip when her back tenses under your fingers. Begrudgingly, she pulls herself back, neck turned a tad to the right, listening in for something you cannot hope to hear.

You finally remember what it feels to be alive underneath her slippery lips and breathy little moans, her cold fingers that grip at your throat and clothes like they have yet to decide which of the two they want to rip off. You're sure bruises will be left in the morning.

"Ugh. Daniela is being impatient again." she huffs, borderline irritated. "Gotta go."

You can't exactly stop her. You're not even sure you'd want to, even if you could. "Okay." is about all you can really say.

"Dream of me." she smirks, fingers trailing over your chin as she rises. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She waves, full of charm, a nightmare that somehow shifted into a pleasant dream. Then she's gone, leaving you alone in the dark. Your body laments the loss but your nerves are wiser, finally easing.

For once, however, the prospect of tomorrow doesn't fill you with only dread.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Whumper Turned Whumpee

Pet whump or whatever is not my area of expertise and this was done between the times 9 and 10:30 (take away a half hour for dinner), so it was quite late for a person (like me) who values her beauty sleep, but the idea popped in my head. I also liked the idea of "whumperees" as @whumpwillow calls them. Anyway, like most late night posts, this is not edited.

Warnings: restraints, torture, blood, stabbing, loss of consciousness, beating mention, concussion, mention of mental torture, pet whump (?), forced labor, exhaustion, fear of punishment, overheating

~

"Whatd'ya want?" Whumper groaned as light spilled into his bruised eyelids.

"Recompense," Caretaker answered, her voice loose and fluid- nonchalant almost in a frightening way. Whumper stiffened in his restraints. His wrists and ankles were chained up in a 4-point fashion by metal restraints. They weren't even padded, just furious metal digging into his skin.

"Wanna know why?" Caretaker asked, sitting on the table where Whumper was bound. She smiled wickedly and drew shapes against Whumper's hand who, in turn, clenched his fist, shivering. Her touch was cold on his already frigid skin, reminding him of the cold air surrounding him.

"I can guess," Whumper peeled a sore eye open. Though he could not see, he could feel the array of bruises lining his forehead and mouth where he was brutally punched- beaten, being a more honest term for the onslaught that Caretaker plagued him with. Being a professional torturer for years, Whumper knew that the ferocity of the beating was strong enough to give him a concussion. The swimming lights, the blurred vision, and pounding headache confirmed that theory.

"Whumpee is sick," Caretaker growled, her voice taut with utter rage as she glared down at her captive.

Whumper's eyes slipped shut without his consent, too tired to keep open. Anyway, it hurt to do so with the light so unceremoniously placed directly in his eyes.

"Will you answer me?" Caretaker asked, slapping Whumper's cheek.

"No."

Caretaker smirked and yanked Whumper's head up. He grunted, but allowed himself to be aggressively man-handled.

"I really hate to do this, but you destroyed Whumpee," Caretaker whispered into his ear. "Mutt."

"That was unnecessary."

Caretaker grabbed a handful of Whumper's hair and pulled it, tight. "Maybe," she growled, and pulled him forward. His head spun, his shoulders burned with the sudden pull. Caretaker kept him in this position, slowly moving him forwars until he felt his joints sliding.

"Stop!" Whumper pleaded, desperately trying to bend his elbows to release the pressure.

"Make me," Caretaker taunted and, using her free hand, grabbed a nearby knife, and plunged it into Whumper's side. Then she let go. Whumper collapsed back onto the table, blood beginning to pool from the gaping wound in his side.

"That'll need medical attention," Caretaker pointed out, lazily rubbing her hands on the knife's hilt.

Whumper grunted, torso moving to try and escape the metal embedded into his abdomen.

"Stop your writhing," Caretaker shoved the knife in deeper. Whumper hissed, fingers tapping the metal table in an erratical movement. "And listen."

"I have been," Whumper pronounced each syllable with such intensity that Caretaker's hand waver for a moment before punching him in the stomach. Whumper gasped, gagged and winded. Caretaker gave him a moment to catch his breath before repeating the movement.

"Knock nnh... it. Off," Whumper snarled, eyes shinning vividly.

"Never," Caretaker replied and lifted her shirt up slightly and began to fiddle with the belt buckle.

Whumper's stomach dropped, just as his heart started to pump in double time.

His brain registered what was going to happen right before the buckle slashed into his skin. Whumper hollered, feeling the bruise coming along. He was horrible, yes, but he never whipped Whumpee with a belt. Heck, he never even physically hurt him. Just mentally wounded the poor guy with isolation, sensory deprivation... everything like that.

Whumpee never had one blemish.

Another whip, the buckle making a dent into Whumper stomach. He groaned and grit his teeth.

The whips sped up after that until Whumper lost count, the world beginning to spiral into a hazy tornado. He didn't even register the agony that was being afflicted onto his being. Just the light, the obnoxious bulb that seemed to ground him.

But even that was stolen from him as exhaustion, pain, and blood loss started to take its toll. Darkness crept at the edge of vision, obscuring his view of the brown leather.

"Mm," he groaned, and allowed the tense neck muscles to loosen, yet the attack kept going. One after the other, after the other.

When Caretaker stopped, Whumper was unconscious- as he had been for a while- blood pooled around the whole table, dripping onto the ground and onto her hands.

It was mortifying yes, but in a strange sense, Caretaker enjoyed it?

It was, after all, recompense.

Two months later...

"Whumper, wash the dishes."

"Whumper, clean the table."

"Whumper, scrub the floor."

Whumper bowed his head and nodded solemnly as he went to clear the table. His knees wobbled at the sight. Caretaker had guests over, and well, the whole table was filled with dishes, pots, pans... not to mention the dishes he used to make the meal.

It was 10:30. At night.

Everything was to be handwashed, not a speck on them, Caretaker inspected them herself, or there would be punishment. Would it be starvation or dehydration was the question.

Or not, all Whumper had to do was make it perfect.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time the vast kitchen floor was scrubbed- why did Caretaker have to live in a mansion?- as was the dining room where the guests dined.

Whumper drowsily turned the lights off and proceeded to go to his bed- a dog bed in the basement- when a small sound stopped him right in his tracks.

Whumpee.

Whumper turned around to see Whumpee- his ex-captive- staring at him with wide, moon-like eyes.

"Whumper," he said, a slight quiver to his voice.

"Master," Whumper dipped his head and spoke in a slurred voice. He was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed.

"You need to vacuum my room. You forgot."

Whumper nearly dropped to the ground right then and there, but didn't. That would equal punishment, after all.

"Yes sir," Whumper nodded obediently and went to grab the vacuum cleaner from the closet.

The room heated up like fire very quickly. Sweat perspired around Whumper's sweaty forward as he worked to get the dust and dirt out of the pale carpet.

It was so hot...

Whumper grunted and continued to pull through, but lightheadedness was starting to get to him. He swayed, exhaustion pulling at his eyelids.

No, keeping going. No sleeping on the job...

Whumper sunk down to one knee, holding the vacuum with all his might. Don't pass out, don't...

White flashes started to illuminate his vision as the rumbling from the machine faded in and out of earshot.

The last thing Whumper felt when he finally toppled over was two arms swiftly catching him before his head met the floor.

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter four rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spiderman’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

After eating dessert and saying goodbye to May, Peter walked you to your room like a proper gentleman.

“You really don’t have to walk me home. I live right across that hall.” You teased him as you leaned against your door. You were glad he did, though. You wanted to spend every minute you could with him.

“I know, but I wanted to make sure you got in okay.” Peter said shyly. “You never know what dangers can be lurking in a hallway. Henry could’ve been around here and you and your feet would’ve been defenseless. You think I could live with myself if something happened to you?”

You laughed loudly and took your time unlocking your door, partially to extend your time together and partially to hide your massive blush.

“Thanks for dinner, Parker. I had a good time.” You said slowly as you fixed his collar.

“I had a moderately alright time.” He said nonchalantly. You laughed at his joke and shoved him a little.

“Fine. I had an amazing time.” He answered honestly. “We should do this again.”

The hope in his eyes knocked you out.

“Definitely.” You agreed. “But at my place next time.”

“Deal.” He stood there for a moment, just staring at you. You stared back, seeing the pale freckles on his nose and around his eyes. The longer you look at Peter, the better he got.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Peter said finally. You sighed softly and looked him over.

Parting really is such sweet sorrow.

“Goodnight Peter.” You answered. You gave each other one more giggly smile before you closed the door, completely missing the victory dance Peter did in the hallway.

“Alright. You ate. Now it’s our turn. Let’s go eat some assholes.” Venom cheered once you were alone.

“You couldn’t have phrased that in a worse way.” You grimaced as you set your keys down.

“I mean, let’s go eat some men who are assholes.” Venom corrected herself.

“Alright alright. Let’s go.” You walked to the window. “But, they have to be a total asshole. We can’t just eat a dick.”

“And you think what we said was bad? Listen to yourself.” Venom retorted.

“I heard it. I meant we have to eat someone who is really, really bad. Not just some random jerk.” You defended.

“Whatever. Let’s go. Your liver is starting to look really, really juicy.” Venom warned. With that, you climbed out the window and prowled the streets of New York.

It wasn’t long before you found a man harassing a woman near a local bar. They were both tipsy, but she seemed drunker than he was. He kept putting his hands on her, despite her protests. Every time she tried to push him away, he’d only try harder.

“Come on baby.” He purred.

“Leave me alone. I don’t want you.” The woman slurred as she pushed him away.

“Yes you do. You wouldn’t have worn that tight dress if you didn’t.” The man said.

Ah yes, logic.

When she ignored his comment, he angrily pushed her against a wall and covered her mouth.

“Asshole?” Venom asked you.

“Asshole.” You confirmed. You and Venom did your usual tactic. You’d start off as you and kindly ask the gentleman to leave the lady alone. When all else fails, you became Venom and ate the bad guy.

You and Venom weren’t cold blooded killers. If a problem could be solved with words, you would do it that way. But there are a lot of bad men on the streets who don’t take no for an answer.

And you catch bad men.

You tore the man away from the lady and she ran away screaming when she saw you as Venom. Most people do. At least she was safe. The man on the other hand suddenly lost his tough guy stamina and resulted to begging for his life.

“Should we eat them?” Venom asked you, loud enough for the man to hear. You did that little thing when half your face was Venom and half your face was you.

People get a real kick out of it.

“No.” You cooed. “They probably taste terrible.”

The man cowered away, begging you to leave.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.” He pleaded.

“I never much liked the taste of perverts.” Venom snarled.

“Me either. Plus, he’s so puny. He’s probably disgusting.” You agreed.

You were dragging the man along. He was definitely getting eaten, no doubt about it. At least, there was no doubt, up until you heard the sound of feet landing on the pavement behind you.

“Hey, big guy, didn’t anyone ever tell you that people are friends, not food?” A young, muffled voice sounded. Spider-Mans eyes grew comically wide when Venom turned around.

“What are you?” He gasped. You could hear the terror in his voice. Under his mask, he was probably trembling. He sounded so young and terrified.

“We…are venom.” You answered as you snarled at him.

Never gets old.

“Hi Venom.” Spider-Man took a step back in fear, legs shaking slightly. “I’m Spiderman.”

The man took this as an opportunity to get up and run. You quickly ran after him, but you were suddenly covered in a sticky white substance. It wrapped around your legs and you fell to the ground. From the floor, you could see the man getting away.

“I can’t take credit for that. I got that from this really old movie, The Empire Strikes back. It works every time.” Spider-Man panted as he ran over to you.

You decided you had enough of this and easily broke out of the sticky stuff. You grabbed the unsuspecting Spider-Man by the throat and lifted him up by his neck. You could hear the sounds of him choking through his mask, and looses your grip. You weren’t a monster, but you weren’t a superhero either. Spiderman had let a bad guy get away and you could only hope you scared him enough not to do it again.

“You let him go.” You growled as you got in his face. Spider-Man hit the hand around his throat in an attempt to break free, making Venom smile. His feet were dangling off the ground. He was defenseless.

“You can’t eat people.” He choked out, gasping for air.

“We can and we will.” Venom growled. “Since you let our dinner get away, looks like you’ll have to take his place. We hope you taste better than you look, Spiderman.”

“Please don’t eat me. I’m just a kid.” Spider-Man begged. Venom tried to keep going, but you pulled back.

“Venom, put him down. We can find someone else. We can’t eat this guy. He’s too young.” You said calmly and prayed Venom would listen. Spider-Man was right. He was just a kid. He had pissed you off, but that didn’t mean he had to die.

“We don’t want anyone else. We want him”. Venom answered. Spider-Man looked confused, seeing as he could only hear Venoms part of the conversation.

“Put him down. His suit probably tastes terrible anyway. Let’s go find someone else. How about we go find a smoker to eat? You know how much you love to eat smokers.” You argued as you felt her grip loosen.

“They taste like barbecue.” Venom replied, feeling her mouth watering.

“Let’s go.” You insisted. “He’s not worth it.”

“Fine.” Venom grouched and threw Spider-Man against a wall. Spider-Man began to cough and clutch his throat. Venom stormed over to him and grabbed his head, making him look at you.

“If you ever bother us again, we are going to eat both of your arms, then both of your legs, and then we are going to eat your face. Do you understand?”

“We?” was all Spider-Man could get out.

“We.” Venom repeated. “Me and my girl. She saved your life tonight. Don’t except it to happen again. Next time, you’re dead.” Venom warned. With that, you ran away into the night, leaving Spider-Man behind.

After eating a man you saw steal money out of multiple homeless peoples cups, you climbed up the apartment building and sat on the ledge of the roof. You transformed back into yourself and watched as the sun made its way up the horizon.

“What are you doing up here?” You heard a familiar Queens accent from behind you. You smiled immediately and turned around.

“Are you stalking me Parker?” You teased as a bashful smile broke across his face. He looked ethereal in the early morning sunshine so you bit your tongue to keep from giggling.

He was too damn cute.

“You’ve got it the wrong way around. I lived here first. This had been my spot for years now. You’re the one stalking me.” Peter remarked. His voice sounded horse, like he had strained it. He moved slowly, almost as if he was in pain, as he swung his legs over the ledge and took a seat next to you. Your thighs just barely touched, but enough to send sparks though your body.

“Is this really your spot? I’ll leave if you want.” You offered, but Peter put his hand on your shoulder to keep you from getting up.

“It’s our spot now.” He said matter of factly. The sun light up his profile and you could see how tired his eyes were. You wondered what late night adventures kept Peter Parker awake. Peter stared out into the New York City skyline and sighed with content. A gentle breeze blew his brown locks and ruffled your clothing.

Everything was quiet. Everything was good.

“Are you an orphan?” You blurted before smacking your hand over your mouth.

You almost jumped off the roof right there. And you probably should’ve. No, actually, Peter should’ve pushed you off. It’s what you deserved. Who the HELL asks someone you just met that question? Who asks that question at all? Does anyone even use the term “orphan” anymore? Is this Annie? All these questions swarmed through your head as your cheeks managed to burn the brightest shade of red they ever had. Peter snapped his head to you and tried to say something but you cut him off.

“I only ask because…well, I am.” You admitted. “An orphan, I mean. And I saw the pictures in your apartment with the candle and you kinda have that…orphan look to you. No offense! It’s not a bad thing either. I probably have the same look. Plus, you live with your aunt and I didn’t see anyone else come home. Of course, maybe they just weren’t home the one night I was over. Not that it’s any of my business anyway. I’m sorry I asked. It was a dumb, dumb question and I’m a dumb, dumb person and I-“

Your excessive rambling was cut off by a soft chuckles on Peters part. You looked at him confused as it wasn’t the response you expected.

“You’re not dumb. You took down Carlton Drake at 19 years old with no help. I wouldn’t call that person dumb. I’d call her brave, smart, even heroic.” Peter complimented you. “And all the best heroes are orphans. So to answer your question…there was a question in there somewhere right? I think so. Yes, I am an orphan. I live with my Aunt May. I used to live with my Uncle Ben too but he passed away.”

“Your uncle was Ben Parker.” You realized. “I should’ve known. May mentioned his name at dinner. I remember hearing about the shooting. All my friends and I created a club in school to protest the lack of gun regulation in America after that. I’m so sorry, Peter.”

“I really appreciate you doing that. I’m really upset over the lack of gun regulation too.” He was quiet for a moment. “My Uncle Ben used to write too. He was always trying to get me to write for the school newspaper. It wasn’t my thing though. I prefer taking pictures and videos. You’re a really good writer, Y/N. My Uncle Ben would’ve loved you.” Peter said earnestly. You smiled at Peter and scooted closer to him.

“Thank you for saying that. I bet I would’ve loved him too.” You told him. Peter looked down at his hands which were dangerously close to yours. You weren’t bold enough to hold his hand, though you desperately wanted to. Instead, you put your head on his shoulder and looked out at the sunrise. It was a simple, innocent gesture. You were both awkward and knew it. It was the safest thing you could do without something going terribly wrong. Peter rested his head on top of yours and sighed.

“I didn’t know you were an orphan.” He said softly, not wanting to disturb the peace. You nodded, still nestled in his neck.

“My mom died a few minutes after giving birth to me.” You opened up to him, something you hadn’t done with anyone before. “I’m not sure what went wrong but they had to do an emergency C-section. I survived, but she didn’t.”

You got quiet for a moment.

“She never even got to hold me.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Peter whispered. He gingerly laced his fingers with yours. You watched as he did it and didn’t try to stop him.

“It’s weird.” You shrugged. “I never knew her, but I miss her everyday. I wish we could’ve had a conversation. Just one would be enough.” Your mom wasn’t something you often talked about. It was too painful to relive the past so you hadn’t even told Andy the full story.

But you felt safe with Peter.

“You don’t have to have known her to miss her.” Peter insisted. “I bet she misses you too and she never met you either.”

“What were your parents names?” You changed the topic as you rubbed his hand softly with your thumb.

“Richard And Mary. Richard and Mary Parker.” He answered proudly. “I write them letters all the time. I put them in an envelope and everything. Then I put them in a box in my closet. I like to think the read them.”

“I bet they do.” You told him while squeezing his hand gently. In that moment, you could’ve sworn he was yours. Like you were an actual couple that had been through hell and back together. Like you’d know him all my life. Peter looked you in the eyes and for the first time, someone really saw you.

The real you, and he didn’t turn away. His brown eyes stared right down into your soul. You felt insecure suddenly, your soul wasn’t a pretty place to see. Certainly not pretty enough for Peter Parker. But Peter didn’t seem to mind.

You got this feeling all the sudden, this feeling that told you you and Peter were meant to meet. That you were always meant to be in each other’s lives. To protect and love each other, like real people do. Peter didn’t feel like a stranger. He wasn’t someone you met on accident. You were destined to be. Just be. No matter what you were. This rooftop didn’t feel like a place you’d never been before. This rooftop felt like home. And Peter made it feel that way. Or maybe it wasn’t the rooftop that felt like home, it was just Peter. Your cheeks burned up when you realized what was happening. Your heart fluttered and your lungs felt like they were in fire.

You knew it. Every fiber of your being knew it. All your senses came alive at once and in that moment, on that rooftop, your heart looked into Peters and said those two words,

“Welcome home”

[gernades]

Ace is gone. He’s been gone for five weeks. 

Nancy has had a lot of time to think. 

She sees the places where he used to be- the kitchen, his house, the spot in his driveway where Florence is always parked- and can’t stop looking at them. 

“Nancy?” 

Nancy blinks and looks up. Ace’s mother is watching her, hands resting on the dough, eyes concerned. “Are you okay?” 

Today they’re making babka-chocolate bread, braided in sections and glazed with egg wash. Nancy looks down. She’s not very good at braiding, but it mostly looks like Rebecca’s dough. 

“I’m fine,” she says, a half-smile working its way across her face. “It’s just been a long week.” Another week without Ace.  She doesn’t know why she’s here, in his house- in his kitchen- but Rebecca doesn’t seem to mind. She never has.

Nancy’s here every other day, now. They’ve made bread and biscuits and a dozen Jewish desserts that Nancy is now addicted to. 

Sometimes, Thom joins them. 

( “He’s taken quite the shine to you,” Rebecca whispers on one such day, eyes sparkling. “He’s not like this with everyone.” 

Nancy doesn’t bring up the ASL textbooks sitting new and shiny on her desk at home. 

Talking about me again, Thom signs over his shoulder, and Rebecca laughs, flicks him on the shoulder. )

Now, Rebecca gently sets down her dough and wipes her fingers off on her apron. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

No, thank you, is Nancy’s knee jerk reaction. She pauses before letting the words come out. She’s been doing that more often, as of late. Sana-her therapist- would be proud. 

Nancy purses her lips and drags a finger through the loose flour on the counter. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just… going through a lot with my dad’s business, and... I can’t help but feel like I’m never going to be happy again.” 

The last part she doesn’t mean to say out loud. “I’m sorry,” Nancy says immediately, and lifts her head up. “That was…” 

“Oh, honey,” Rebecca whispers. Her eyes are shiny. “I don’t know exactly what’s been going on, but I can tell that it’s been hard on you. You’ve always been so strong. Just like your mother.” 

“Hm,” Nancy manages, throat tight and vision blurry. When Rebecca bustles around the table and wraps her arms around her, she doesn’t pull away. 

Rebecca smells like soap and rosemary: she is warm and accepting and she makes Nancy’s heart hurt less. This will have to end eventually, but she can’t help but lean into it anyway.

                                                              *** 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time out of the house,” Carson remarks later that night. 

They’re sitting at the dinner table, doing their best to eat what is supposed to be spaghetti, courtesy of Ryan. He’s still learning how to use basic appliances: his cooking is dangerous.

 Nancy wrinkles her nose and stabs at a coagulated lump of pasta. 

“Yeah. Nothing bad. I’ve just been… baking.” 

Ryan hums and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth. Nancy and Carson watch in amazement as he gets it down without gagging. “You’re really good at it, too. That, uh, chocolate croissant thingy you brought home yesterday was amazing.” 

Nancy raises an eyebrow, amused. “The rugelach?” 

Ryan jabs his fork into the air. “Yes. So good.” 

“Spending time with Rebecca, I gather?” Carson’s voice is light and free of judgement. Before the whole Wraith thing, Nancy would have pulled up her walls, deflected the conversation. 

It’s a little different now, though, so Nancy just nods. “It’s just... nice to have someone to talk to who’s normal.” 

Carson sighs and rubs her shoulder. “I understand that completely.” 

“Hey,” Ryan states, expression pinched, “is pasta supposed to make my stomach bubbly?” 

Nancy and Carson exchange a long, tired look. 

They take Ryan to the ER for food poisoning. 

                                                              *** 

George slams a palm down onto the table. Her engagement ring sparkles in the afternoon light. Nancy jumps. “It’s been quiet, Drew. Too quiet. I don’t trust it.” 

Nancy takes a long look around the Claw. It’s nearly packed to the brim with customers- their Yelp ratings have skyrocketed since the staff have actually started working again. “This is your idea of quiet?” 

George groans and slides into the opposite booth. “You know what I mean. We’ve had nothing supernatural happen for almost a month. It’s driving me crazy.” 

“Good,” Nancy replies mildly, and takes another bite of her crab roll. “I’m taking a sabbatical from sleuthing.” 

Sana was the one to suggest a break from anything stressful- like sports or large events! Avoiding murder and possession via the paranormal probably isn’t what her therapist means, but Nancy can read between the lines. 

George screeches. Half the restaurant turns to look at them. They turn back when they see who it is. 

“What?” She narrows her eyes and leans in. “Okay. I never thought I’d live to see the Hero of Horseshoe Bay gives herself a break.” She crosses her arms. “I’m proud of you, Nancy.” 

Nancy’s heart hums. She sends George a grateful smile. “Thanks.” 

George smiles back. “Your lunch break was over ten minutes ago, by the way. I need you to clean out the grease traps.” 

Nancy’s smile drops. 

The grease traps are gross, hard work. They’re also the last normal thing Nancy did with Ace, which is equal parts sad and amusing. 

She grits her teeth and scrubs her cloth against the dirty metal. At least it’s cool here, in the kitchen, and away from the always-prying eyes of customers. 

The bell above the restaurant door tinkles faintly. Nancy sighs and dips her rag into the bucket of degreaser. 

Bess screams, high-pitched and excited. “Ace!” 

Nancy stands up so quickly that she knocks the bucket onto its side. No way. 

He can’t be back- it’s too soon, too late. Nancy needs to think more. If he’s back, she can’t go to his house again, can she?

Heart pounding, she creeps over to the window and peers into the restaurant. He’s surrounded by Bess and George- and, after a moment, Nick jogs in from the parking lot, smile blinding. 

Nancy wants to go see him. She does. Her feet seem to have other ideas, though. She can’t seem to move at all. 

Ace looks good. His hair is longer, and sun-bleached; his skin is tanned. Even from this distance Nancy can see the new freckles on his face. 

There’s a leather jacket, black and tight around his shoulders- and two new silver studs in his ears. He’s smiling. He looks happy.

 Nancy’s chest aches. 

“Hey,” she hears him say to George, “Where’s Nancy?” 

Nancy takes a half step backwards. 

“Cleaning the grease traps in the kitchen,” George replies, spreading her arms in a grand gesture. “The best job in the world.” 

Ace laughs. 

Nancy runs. 

She doesn’t really run- she simply makes a strategic, tactical retreat into the staff room and out the back door. 

There’s no time to overthink it- not yet, her brain and heart agree. Not yet. 

Nancy thanks her former self for parking her car at the very edge of the lot. Nobody notices as she pulls out onto the road, a full two hours before her shift is supposed to end. 

Ooh, she’s a little runaway! Bon Jovi croons on the radio. Daddy’s girl learned fast- 

Nancy grits her teeth and pushes her foot against the accelerator. 

All those things he couldn’t say! Ooh, she’s a little runawa-

Nancy spins the radio dial with fumbling fingers, and spends the rest of her drive listening to germanic opera. 

“Shit.” 

                                                               *** 

“Jesus,” Ryan says when he opens the front door. “You look worse than I do, and I spent three hours getting my stomach pumped last night.” 

Nancy pushes past him without a word. 

Ryan’s voice lowers, softens. “Nancy. Hey.” He reaches out, gently wraps a hand around her wrist. She stops walking. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Nancy says, but her words come out wobbly, uneven. 

Ryan scoots a little closer. “Okay, well… that’s a lie.” 

Nancy snorts. “Ace is back.” 

Ryan smiles, relieved. “That’s great!” He pauses. “Isn’t it?” When she says nothing, he squints his eyes, searches her face. “Oh,” he says finally. “I see.” 

Nancy stiffens, alarmed. “How did you-,” 

Ryan sighs and taps his cheek. “We make the same kind of face, you know. Genetics and all that.” 

“Shit,” Nancy says again, and tries very hard not to sink through the floor. 

“Don’t worry,” Ryan promises. “I wont say anything.”

“What’s going on?” 

Ryan and Nancy turn to face Carson, who is wrapped in a purple robe, fresh out of the shower. He takes one look at the expression on Nancy’s face and rushes over. “Is there another entity-,” 

“No,” Nancy says vehemently. She drops her head onto his shoulder, breathes in the smell of his aftershave. “I’m just not feeling well.” 

Neither of her dads press her for more- they simply stand like that, the three of them, for a very long time. 

                                                              *** 

        George: where the hell are u?? 

        George: hello? nancy?

        George: are u ok

        Bess: ACE IS BACK!!!! :D

        Bess: wait where r u 

        Nick: Did something happen? 

        Ace: hey. i just got back. where are you? 

“No,” Nancy says softly, and turns off her phone. “I am not good.” 

She needs a plan. Something to protect herself, and to spare everyone from the complications that one-sided feelings often bring. It’s been a good five weeks, if she doesn’t include the whole Ace thing. It’s been peaceful. Happy. 

She doesn’t want to ruin that. 

Nancy draws her knees up to her chest and stares out the window. I think I’ll just have to pretend. It’s either that, or avoiding Ace altogether- which would be impossible.

No more baking with Rebecca and Thom, either. That hurts more than Nancy wants to admit- but she’s already made up her mind. She’ll keep her feelings on the back burner, and do her best to keep things normal. 

With a sigh, she stands, and goes upstairs to take a much-needed nap. 

She dreams again. It’s the same one she’s been having every night for the past five weeks.

Nancy dreams of silk and cigarette smoke- because Ace always has to light one up after he has a joint- and of the ocean. The waves lap at the shore, rhythmic and quiet. It’s peaceful, here. Safe.

She dreams about a cliff, soft grass: warm, roving hands and a familiar mouth against her own. If she calls out his name in her sleep, that’s her problem.

 If she wakes up sweaty and teary-eyed, that’s her problem, too.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt for "Close" or "Reforged": NMJ & Baxia goes to the Nie tombs to accompany someone. The spirits sensed a saberspeak translator FINALLY exists and traps them. Everyone thought the place hostile, but the sabers just want NMJ listen to their ramblings/demands/complaints/lectures... and also to do something about that "basketcase" saber spirit sealed further in. They're sick of listening to it! Do something, Nie descendant!

ao3

“Tell me something about yourself,” Lan Xichen said one day when he was a teenager, lying on his back in a field in the Cloud Recesses with his best friend in the whole world, excluding family. “Something secret.”

Nie Mingjue, lying beside him, hummed for a moment, thinking about it. “When I was a kid – about Wangji’s age now – I got stabbed in the stomach during a fight,” he said eventually. “Everyone thought I was going to die, and I mean they really thought it, but then I didn’t.”

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, having meant something more along the lines of ‘a girl let me touch her chest behind the garden shed once’. “Everyone must have been very glad you were all right.”

“Mostly,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice and gaze distant. “Once they let me out.”

“Of your sickbed?”

Nie Mingjue blinked and shook his head as if to wake up. “Enough about me,” he said. “What about you? What’s your secret? Is it about that He sect girl and the shed again?”

“It was not,” Lan Xichen insisted, even though it totally had been. He was very proud of it. “I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular!”

-

When Nie Mingjue told Lan Xichen about his family’s curse, he didn’t actually tell him directly.

He brought him to a room, with tea and food set out, had him sit, and then vanished, sending Nie Zonghui to tell him instead. It was horrifying, of course, but in the same manner as the whole war they’d just endured had been horrifying – nothing that would make Nie Mingjue blush.

“Why didn’t he just tell me himself?” Lan Xichen asked, mostly because he couldn’t really be upset at Nie Mingjue for being in the process of slowly dying, even if that’s what he really wanted. “Did he think I wouldn’t be able to stand it or something?”

“Or something,” Nie Zonghui said. “It’s not about you, Zewu-jun. It’s about him.”

Lan Xichen frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a sensitive subject for him,” Nie Zonghui said. “Especially the saber tombs – and after what happened when he was younger, I can’t really blame him.”

“When he was younger? What happened?”

“Did he never say? He said that he’d already told you: when he was young – eight or nine, I think – he was in a fight, and got stabbed…”

“Oh, yes, that,” Lan Xichen said. “I know about that…what does that have to do with cultivation?”

“It was his first fight carrying Baxia,” Nie Zonghui explained. “She wasn’t even fully forged, but he grabbed her out of the smithy and wielded her against those invaders.”

Nie Mingjue had not said anything about invaders.

“He saved the lives of several other children,” Nie Zonghui continued, and Nie Mingjue hadn’t said anything about that, either. “Shed his first blood on his blade – even took his first life, all the things that function as a marker of adulthood. Defeat evil, rescue the innocent, all that. So when they thought he was going to die, they decided to give him the honors of an adult.”

For some reason, that made something sink in Lan Xichen’s stomach.

“When you say honors…” he started.

“He was taken to the saber tombs,” Nie Zonghui said. “To die as his honored ancestors had.”

They must have been very sure that he would not live.

“But he didn’t die,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Zonghui hesitated. “What are you not telling me?”

“Sect Leader Nie was left there to die alone, as is customary,” Nie Zonghui said. “When they returned after three days to collect his body for cremation, they found him still breathing, much to everyone’s surprise…after, there were rumors that he had died.”

“What? How? He’s walking around even now.”

“They thought he had been possessed,” Nie Zonghui explained. “By one of the saber spirits. It caused some trouble, later. Anyway, ever since then, he doesn’t talk about it directly – and nor should you.”

“But –”

“I think that’s enough of an explanation for now,” Nie Zonghui said firmly, and no matter how Lan Xichen entreated him, he said no more.

-

“Oh, sure, we have plenty of stories about saber spirit possession,” Nie Huaisang said when Lan Xichen asked in a roundabout fashion. “All sorts! I grew up on them, naturally. Temporary, permanent, through birth or misadventure – that one story about the generation of Nie women where everyone was female, whether born or misaligned –”

That did sound somewhat interesting, actually, but not exactly what Lan Xichen was looking for at the moment.

“What happens in cases of possession?” he asked, pretending to be casual. “You know, if someone thinks someone else is possessed – speaking generally, of course?”

“Generally?” Nie Huaisang frowned and tapped his fan against his lips. “I mean, in the case of temporary possession, you usually try to exorcise the spirit – usually through traditional means, like arrays or talismans or incantations, but sometimes if you think they’re trying to steal a human life permanently, through discomfort.”

“Discomfort?”

“Oh, you know. Excess exercise, denying food, hurting them. Show them that they’d rather not be human after all, that sort of thing.”

“…what if they’re wrong about the possession?” Lan Xichen asked, a cold chill going down his spine.

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “It’s supposed to be pretty obvious? Someone who has the strength of a guai instead of a human, who refuses to die when a normal person would, someone rigid and unyielding with barely any flexibility – more metal than human – unusually angry, full of bloodlust and an unquenchable desire to destroy evil –”

“That could describe your whole family tree, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said. That could describe your brother.

“Sabers reflect their masters,” Nie Huaisang said cheerfully. “So it makes sense that it would, doesn’t it?”

“But –”

“Oh, don’t fuss, er-ge! I’m sure the elders wouldn’t just go around assuming someone’s secretly a saber for no reason,” Nie Huaisang said. “Now, let me tell you about the generation of women story – it’s one of my favorites –”

-

“Da-ge refused to let me play for him again,” Jin Guangyao commented, and Lan Xichen frowned.

He wasn’t an idiot – he knew how bad the relationship between his two sworn brothers was – but although he’d hoped that this would help repair some aspects of that, his primary goal with the Song of Clarity was to improve Nie Mingjue’s health.

(Sabers could suffer from qi deviations, too. Not that Nie Mingjue was possessed by a saber or anything.)

“Did he say why?” Lan Xichen asked.

“He was busy this week,” Jin Guangyao said mournfully. “Visiting his family tombs, apparently.”

Lan Xichen blinked. “The – Nie family tombs?”

Jin Guangyao had been speaking casually, clearly thinking of it as some excuse meant to fob him off, but perhaps there was something about Lan Xichen’s face that caught his interest. “Yes, he said there was some issue there that he had to deal with personally. Is there something the matter with that?”

“No,” Lan Xichen said, and then frowned. “At least, I don’t think so? I’ll speak with him about not skipping more sessions, A-Yao; don’t worry.”

He excused himself shortly thereafter and went to Qinghe on the first possible excuse.

“Where’s your sect leader?” he asked one of the guards.

Their frozen expression said everything he needed to know.

-

“Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, blinking at him. “Is that you?”

“No, it’s Wangji,” Lan Xichen said. “Of course it’s me!”

“I meant that more in the ‘what are you doing in my family tombs’ sense,” Nie Mingjue said.

Lan Xichen allowed that that was a fair question. A better one, however…

“What are you doing in your family’s tombs?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “If the Song of Clarity isn’t working, we can try something else!”

“Xichen –”

“It is far, far too early for you to even think of coming down here –”

“Xichen –”

“And may I say, that’s a barbaric tradition anyway, I don’t care if your ancestors did it, locking up a child is just –”

“Xichen.”

Lan Xichen stopped.

Nie Mingjue was rubbing the back of his head, and his cheeks were red. “I heard a rumor that one of the old masterless sabers got loose,” he said. “I was just checking it out. I wasn’t coming here to – to reside.”

“…oh,” Lan Xichen said, and felt rather stupid. And then, trying to change the subject, he said, “How’d you hear about the saber getting loose? I thought no one came here unless there was a death.”

“Oh, the sabers told me,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Oh, I guess…wait. What?”

-

“So you…hear them,” Lan Xichen said. They were seated on the foot of one of the statues guarding the tombs, which was a bit rude but Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to mind and they were, after all, his ancestors. “The saber spirits.”

“Since I was child, yes,” Nie Mingjue confirmed.

“And you don’t think this is – odd?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “They gave me spiritual energy so that I could survive. It left a mark, I think.”

Lan Xichen nodded.

He tried to figure out how to phrase his next question.

“I’m fairly certain I am not a saber spirit possessing a human corpse.”

“Oh, good,” Lan Xichen sighed. “I had no idea how to ask.”

Nie Mingjue knocked their shoulders together. “You can always just ask. I’m your friend. Corpse or not.”

“Please don’t make jokes about that,” Lan Xichen said mournfully, even if it was a little funny. “I’d miss you if you were a corpse.”

“Well, depending on the state of the corpse…”

Lan Xichen snickered, even though he really didn’t mean to. It wasn’t actually funny.

-

“So is it just sabers?”

“Not always. Why? You want to know what Shuoyue thinks of you?”

Lan Xichen stared at him. “Can you?”

“Either directly or indirectly,” Nie Mingjue said. “Even if the weapon doesn’t want to talk to me directly, they usually don’t have a choice when Baxia is pushing them.”

“…do swords have a lot to say?”

“Not as much as saber spirits. But more than you might think.”

“What does she think of me, then?”

“She likes you. You’re good to her. Except when you wield her overhead because you keep tensing a muscle in your back that makes the strike a little wonky, so she’d prefer you stick with forward thrusts or low cuts until you get that fixed.”

Lan Xichen started laughing.

-

“If I die outside, make sure I’m brought here,” Nie Mingjue said. “I think I’d enjoy the company.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Lan Xichen promised, and he meant it, too. “I promise.”