#ch; green space guy

[anki-of-beleriand]

The Best Kept Secrets - Ch. 1

Summary: Wanda was on the verge of breaking down when she was called to attend her brother's engagement party. Alone and unable to keep up with her father's expectations she makes a deal with the devil that would lead her to discover a side of her that may either destroy her or bring the happiness she so craves for herself.

Pairing: Female!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: au, Moder setting, No powered charcaters, cheating, idiots in love, unrequite/requited love, jealousy, drama, angst, broken hearts, homophobia, more warnings as chapters come in.

Author's Note: Hello guys! I hope all of you are doing amazing. So, now that I finished two of my favourite stories, I would love to start a new one. Now I need to warn you, this is a real story, some of the events you are going to read happen in real life and of course charcaters had been changed and adapt to fall into place with the story.

Thank you for reading, and giving me the chance to share this with you. Remember English is not my mother tongue, so apologise in advanced for any grammar, spelling or funny mistake you may find in here.

Chapter 1

Nothing to write home about

In the present…

- St Pancras International Railway Station, 3:30pm -

It hadn’t stopped raining since you left home almost two hours ago.

You stood by the platform with your eyes glancing at the empty space surrounding the station, your mind completely blank as you detach yourself from the world. The sound of conversation and laughter grew louder around you, it was a cold day and the jacket barely covering your trembling body; the weight of the last year came crashing down into your soul as the train finally made a stop and people started disembarking scattering around while ignoring your lone figure standing still.

The train was punctual, as always.

You lifted your eyes to the sky, the dark clouds gliding above your head reflecting the storm breaking into your heart.

A lot had happened in a year, and you wished you had been spared the heartbreak of having met the woman that was now haunting your dreams.

You snorted wiping away the tears falling down your cheeks, your hand tightened around the handle. It was not used thinking about the past, nor was it worthy to dwell in it; yet as soon as you went inside the railway truck trying to get away from your life in England.

Your eyes closed tightly, your ears straining to hear the people filling out the wagon as you waited for the train to leave the station. You wished it was easy to forget, that your mind was not fixated on what had happened and that your heart was not so foolish as to hope.

Without opening your eyes, and with your eyes filled with tears you wished, not for the first time, that you could forget…

How everything started a year ago…In the past

“It’s raining.” The voice broke the silence in the library, you snorted leaning back against the chair while holding the book closer to your face.

“This is London, it is always raining.” You replied curtly trying to catch the words on the book before settling down on the table.

You knew it was useless to continue working while you have your roommate tapping on the table with her fingers, you cocked your head raising a brow at her. Natasha Romanoff huffed, tapping rapidly her eyes going from the window to you, then back again.

“What is it?” You finally asked, the young woman shrugged but after you glared at her she rolled her eyes straightening up.

“There is going to be a party, more like a function tonight.” Natasha gauged your expression, her green eyes gleaming with a silent request you were dreading already. “Everyone is going to be there, and I want you to go with me. As a date.”

“As a favour.”

Natasha couldn’t hide her wince, and you could only snort at her obvious attempts to get you on her side. You knew what she was interested in, a blond-haired woman that had caught her attention after a conference in which the woman had charmed her way into Natasha’s mind. The redhead leaned forward placing her hand on yours, there was a soft pleadingly glance in her and you knew you were sold as soon as you made eye contact.

“I really want to see her again,” Natasha was not one to ask for favours, she had learnt from an early age to never let anyone have a hold on her and this petition was something you knew cost her not only her pride but also her confidence.

“What do I gain with this?” You crossed your arms refusing to give into the smile that broke into Natasha’s face.

“Well, for one, you may finally get to meet someone.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes, “doubt it. Continue.”

Natasha scowled at that, she really wished you stopped thinking you were not good enough or attractive enough, or smart, and funny, and lovely enough for anyone out there. She knew that you hadn’t had the best of childhoods, and that your experience with friends and relationships had only left a broken mark in your heart and soul.

“This is also a chance to get to know people that may be interested in investing on your investigation,” this time around Natasha could see that she caught your attention, she held back her smile without stopping her rant, “I mean, I know the school has given you full support with the doctorate, but to continue your work you will need someone supporting the investigation.”

You chewed on your lower lip, lowering your gaze for a moment. It was true that you had been looking into someone that might have wanted to be interested in your area of expertise, it was hard as it was to find someone interested in history, much less in founding an investigation on that field. You could know those events usually hosted people whose interest in such topics were what you needed.

“I guess I could go with you,” you finally gave in, rolling your eyes while ignoring the triumphant smirk Natasha was shooting your way. “But I don’t want setups! And I don’t want you pushing me to get the phone number of anyone, got it?”

Natasha hesitated for a moment before she finally gave in, “I promised.”

“Good, then when is this thing happening?”

Natasha’s smirk grew even more, and a feeling of dread settled in your stomach; for some reason, you couldn’t help thinking her smile was hiding her real intentions with this sudden invitation. But your head soon dismissed that thought, even if that was the case, Natasha had always been transparent in her set ups and she had already promised this wouldn’t be one of her plans to set you up with one of her crazy friends.

At least, that was what you hoped for.

   ______________________________________________________________________________________

Kate pursed her lips watching amusedly as Wanda failed her to strike the golf ball with her club. The young woman was grabbing the thing with all her strength while holding her posture just as tense, this was the fifth time she failed to hit the ball and it was going from amusing to just plain pitiful.

“I can’t believe…” Wanda gritted her teeth throwing the club to the ground, Kate came right at her holding her tightly while she sobbed into her arms.

The tension had come after the news of Jarvis’ marriage reached out to them; it had been a normal day at the club. Nothing too out of the ordinary until one of the oldest ladies in the club came to Wanda’s mother with the latest news about the young hair to the Jarvis fortune. He had married the woman of his dreams, the one he had been dating officially while messing around with Wanda just before leaving her humiliated and broken-hearted.

The man had done anything and everything he could with the young brunette, he had actually dared to talk about marriage and a future with Wanda until the very end.

“Wanda, dear, you never thought I would actually go through with it, did you?”

The man had said to Wanda after she found out about his fiancée, Wanda had been standing by the door of his flat, the man sneering down at her.

“You were there to help me prepare for my future; you were a good plaything until I have to settle down. I hope you don’t take this personally, but I do need a real woman in my life. Not you.”

Up until then Wanda had accepted the secrecy of her relationship with Jarvis, she had enjoyed the solitude of their relationship until it was quite evident the man didn’t have any intention of presenting her to his family. Or to meet hers.

“I was such an idiot.” Wanda mumbled hugging Kate tightly, wishing they were alone in the golf course.

“No, Wands, he was an idiot. That motherfucker…” Kate said, earning a watery chuckle from Wanda.

Kate placed her hands on Wanda’s arms, she offered a tender smile shrugging.

“Wanda, there was no way for you to know what was happening…”

“I should have known, you know?” Wanda placed a hand on her face, she tried to cover her eyes while letting the pain pierced her skin, with her heart twitching uncomfortably inside her chest. “I wish I could die.”

Kate lowered her gaze, hating to see her best friend in such depression, she hated knowing Wanda had been fighting all her life against her own insecurities and the heartbreaks that come with who she really was and how much she was worth. It had been like that for people like them, everyone thought money was everything, that it would get them happiness, and healthy relationships, but in reality it had broken a deep voice that sometimes they filled with whoever showed them a glimpse of kindness and love.

“Perhaps…I just…” Wanda trailed off, she took a deep breath and then looked away. “Perhaps I was not meant to be loved.”

Before Kate could say anything about it Wanda turned to her, “let’s just keep playing, I want to forget for a moment. Please?”

Kate wanted to say something else, anything to help Wanda through the pain of what had happened in the lapse of a month. Her life had changed, and it seemed as if the world had conspired to make her life a misery. With a last sympathetic glance, Kate Bishop grabbed her club and followed her best friend through the golf course making sure she could vent her frustrations without giving into desperation.

 Afternoon had fallen rather fast for Wanda’s liking.

She sat at the table Wearing the same clothes she had used during her game, the weather inside had worsened with heavy rain falling onto the club's property. She grabbed her cup of tea hearing the story from Gwen who had found Kate and herself resting in a corner of the restaurant. Wanda had drifted away after she started telling them of her oncoming engagement party. 

“Of course the both of you are invited, I still haven't decided on how many people will attend,” Gwen fixed her hair giving a lighthearted giggle, “but let's say that Peter had already panicked and the sheer amount of people we are inviting.”

The conversation could have died there, no more was necessary but Gwen had always been naive and just a little dense about the reality of the world. She settled her grey eyes on Wanda, a twitched of the woman's lips told Kate she should say something but she was too slow to react.

“I have heard from a very good source that Victor Von Doom would be there, and your stepmother has already made arrangements for you to be escorted by him to the reception.” Gwen leaned forward placing her hand on top of Wanda’s one mistaking her dumbfounded glance for one of shocked nervousness.

“Aren't you happy about it? I know he has tried to get into your father's good light. and he even asked Pietro if he could approach you with the intention of dating you.”

“Excuse me?” By now Wanda was trembling indignantly,  she knew pretty well what the intentions of the man were. Ever since she was in high school he had tried to buy her and her father to get access to the family's reputation. 

Wanda despised him, he was an arrogant jerk who could care less about her desires or her feelings. The fact that her stepmother was dealing to get the man into a party that she would potentially attend was insulting and quite frankly disturbing.

Gwen blinked confusedly, grabbing by then the tone of voice from Wanda. Her face fell and Kate felt sympathy for the blond-haired woman who was now fidgeting under Wanda’s glare.

“Van Doom is an imbecile whose reputation has been tainted by his inability to hold a business standing,” Wanda stood up, whatever frustrations she had been experiencing in the last month finally getting the best out of her. “Frankly I pitied the woman that fell into his hands, now Gwen if you excuse me I have a function to attend and I am already late to get ready for the event.”

Wanda stood up leaving the table in a rush, Gwen sat there furrowing her brows torn between being offended and perplexed. Kat stood up as well, she shot Gwen a smile placing her hand on top of Gwen's one.

“You better don't invite that man to the party, Gwen. Wanda really hates him, and the fact her stepmother is messing around to try and set her up would be a door to conflict.”

Gwen shifted frowning, “Kate, I'm looking out for her. It has been so long since she dated someone, we all are getting either married or have a relationship going on whereas she is…alone. It's not right. I was just trying to get her to meet someone, perhaps dated and have a family on her own?”

Kate winced at those words, Gwen had been their best friend for as long as they could remember. But as soon as high school ended it was quite obvious where her interest lay and this had erected an invisible wall amongst them. Gwen looked up at Kate trying to find agreement there, but she knew her friends were free spirits, they were always following their own rules and most of the time Gwen didn't find that wise, or even practical. 

“Look I know that, but Wanda.she is not like that. You know that. For her what she is doing right now is important,and she really does not care for marriage. At least not out of social convenience.” Kate offered a half smile, “you were lucky you met a man you fell in love With and that loved you back, but you know that is not the case and regardless of what you or the others said…”

“Wanda wants to fall in love. To be loved and loved back.” Gwen nodded as if finally understanding, she softened her features, a flash of urgency growing in her grey irises. “Oh, I didn't want to…”

“I know, but Gwen you need to start listening to others and start listening to yourself and stand for what you think is right or not,” Kate hesitated before giving the blond a hug. “It was good to see you, Gwen. Don't be a stranger.”

“Please, tell Wanda I'm sorry and I will make sure no one she doesn't like is invited to my engagement.”

Kate walked away from the place rather relieved to know Gwen found a real man that cherished and loved her dearly. She didn't want to think what would have happened if a different individual had approached Gwen when she was younger. With determination behind her strides, Kate strolled down the halls towards the parking lot. In no time she found the car, Wanda was looking gloomily to the horizon, detached from what was happening around her while the tears gleamed under the thunder breaking into the sky. Kate huffed running under the rain before going into the car.

“Gwen says she is sorry.”

“Hn, okay.” 

Wanda turned the engine on, she grabbed the wheel tightly, breathing deeply. Her face fell for a moment, then with a tired stare she turned to Kate.

“Will you go with me tonight?”

Kate nodded shifting in the seat, “you know I will.”

“Thank you.”

Nothing more was said, but Wanda couldn't stop thinking about her life in the last couple of months. She wished she had never believed the lies woven by Jarvis, that she hadn't fallen in love with the man to the point she was ready to forsake Her family and her life for him. She remembered those moments she shared with the man, his sweet words when taking her out on dates and trips, the moments of passion they shared in her flat and the secrecy with which he held their relationship. She had been such a fool, well-played by a man who looked nothing more than the comfort she could offer while his official girlfriend found herself in the spotlight as the love of his life. Wanda had always felt the twisting pain of the knife in her heart, she had seen the red flags and yet her love for Jarvis had blinded her to all of them.

Now, she was alone, broken, and unloved.

Just as it was supposed to be.

With a sob leaving her lips, Wanda cleared her throat and held back her tears. She needed to stop crying, and she needed to get out of her own misery, her mind turning to her friends and work. If she focused on them, perhaps the dull pain in her heart would recede and she would find peace once more.

_______________________

The moment you were welcomed into the world of Academics, you thought it would be a place where nerds of all ages would be around reading, working on new mathematical theories or perhaps on the newest inventions that would change the world. It was something out of the stereotypical image people had of the academic world.

The were mistaken, of course 

Most of the time you found yourself in fancy dinners, and in multiple conferences in which your main task was to forge some kind of engagement and gain the favour of a rich individual to donate to your investigation, your department or perhaps the school itself.  It was exhausting, you had to smile and shake hands while pretending to like everyone you came across. 

The night was still young, yet you had already caught sight of important personalities attending the function meant to give money and brains to the military. Your eyes caught sight of Jean Gray and her husband Scott talking with Professor Reed and Sue Storm. Then, just as you suspected it, you found Bruce Banner talking animatedly to some woman wearing a military uniform while Another one stood in the distance. If Bruce Banner had come to this meeting then, that meant…

“Well, well, well, if it isn't my favourite theorist in the whole wide world!”

You winced hearing the deep, baritone voice of the one and only Tony Stark. You winced and straightened up while turning around, the man was smirking at you with his eyes covered by the shades he usually brought to every event. His hand stretched out, without any hesitation you took it in yours without hiding your perplexity at the encounter.

“Tony.” Your greet was formal, with just a hint of curiosity in it.

“I thought you didn't like these kinds of events.”

“I don't.” Your reply was received with an incredulous stare.

“Then, what are you doing here?”

You wondered the same thing after going back home and getting ready for the night. Natasha had selected your clothes carefully, and her instructions about your behaviour had been quite clear. At the moment, you were just waiting for the redhead to arrive and lead the rest of the night until it was time for her to approach her blond-haired angel.

“You never know where you would find the love of your life, Tony. So, I am here waiting to see if anyone in this forsaken place knows more about arts, science, and books than money and fuckery in general.”

Tony bursted out laughing, placing a hand on your forearm, you snorted, shaking your head while matching the grin the older man wore at the moment. You had been but a teenager when Stark Industries had discovered you in the dirty and forgotten streets of Colombia. A missing child with almost zero chances to grow beyond a mediocre job and education, you had solved a puzzle the Learning and Development department at Stark Industries had devised to hunt for geniuses around the world. Of all the people they recruited at that time, you were the only one that actually got to climb up the ladder inside the Industries and the University.

You had always thought this would earn you powerful enemies, however the total opposite happened and now Tony Stark stood behind you as your protector and main source of income.

“I thought you didn't believe in love.” He stated offering his arm to you, after a moment of hesitation you hooked your arm with his and started walking around the great hall. 

“I don't.” The answer rolled out of your lips with conviction, your eyes sweeping the hall trying to locate Natasha. 

“And yet, I bet you are looking for that one connection that may change your life.” Tony placed a soothing hand on yours, his eyes downcast for a moment.

“Do you believe in love, Tony?”

Tony chuckled, cocking his head, “I do.”

You snorted with a hint of disbelief in your eyes.

“You are a womaniser.”

“Was.”

The word was said with fire and determination, you couldn’t help the surprise in your eyes while the older man shrugged nodding to the balcony. You followed his stare, your eyes caught sight of a group of people talking in The cold of the night. 

“There is someone I want you to meet.” Tony chanted hisnvoice, the sudden hardening of his words Told you he meant business. “He is an old friend of my dad, and has been an important member of the Oxford Board, and a private consultant for the Parliament.”

You raised your brows, now completely at loss as to why Tony was taking you to this person while wondering if perhaps the invitation from Natasha was for another reason. Tony sensed your trepidation, he offered a smile making sure you were looking into his eyes.

“You have the potential to be exceptional, your mind and the way you work are your innate advantages and it is about time you break that comfort zone of yours and start exploring something else.” 

“Tony, I thank you for everything you have done for me, but something like this…” you trailed off when Tony shook his head.

“I know why you have been hiding, but whatever happens you will always count on me.” Tony winked at you resuming his stroll towards the balcony. “Besides, who knows? Perhaps this is what you need to start believing in yourself and you may even find love.”

You held onto your scepticism, you knew the man had a soft spot for you and he has been supporting you from an early age, this was the only reason why you didn't  contradict him and decided to follow him up on his offer. There was nothing wrong with that, after all, and perhaps this encounter would give you the chance to try something new. Something different.

It was a dark and cold night.

The sound of muffled conversation coming from the main hall could barely be heard once they stepped into the balcony. You lifted your face welcoming the cold wind brushing your heated skin, your arms shivered with goosebumps travelling down your back.

You lowered your gaze, finding yourself looking into the deepest shade of green eyes that you had ever seen before. They belonged to a young woman that was wearing a white dress with her hair falling like a cascade of cobalt contrasting with her white, smooth skin and the soft blush on her cheeks. The woman was beautiful, her intense stare caught your breath while your lower abdomen broke into a myriad of fluttering butterflies. Your words caught in your throat, and your mind flash a red warning, as if you were forgetting something important but couldn't grasp what it really was.

It didn't matter, though.

As soon as your eyes found those of the young woman you could only see contempt and just a tad bit of annoyance. You furrowed your brows, confused at her reaction to seeing you. What was with the hate?

“Tony Stark, I didn’t know you were in the country.” 

Your attention was soon claimed by the command hidden behind that voice, your face turned to a mature man with dark, brown eyes and a comforting smile. His eyes shone smartly while they turned from Tony to you then back to the other man, he placed the hands on the armrest on the wheelchair he was sitting in. You tried to focus your attention on him, but the glare coming from the beautiful woman behind him was making it quite difficult to concentrate. 

“I arrived yesterday, and have some business to attend to.” Tony then stretched his hand towards you, stepping aside to give you the spotlight. 

You stood rather awkwardly, the black dress you decided to wear tight around your body with the cold night brushing your skin. The man sitting on the wheelchair lifted a single eyebrow, his lips never lost the kind smile but it were those eyes holding a spark of mischief that made you wonder just what the hell were you missing.

“I want to introduce you to my protegee, Y/N Y/LN.” 

The man nodded towards you, lifting his hand while making sure to never break eye contact. You wiggled, stepping closer and taking the warm hand in yours.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Charles Xavier, at your service.” 

The name clicked inside your head, your eyes went wide while you took in the form of the man then back to Tony who was smiling at you all smugly and proud.

“I’m sorry sir, you said Charles Xavier? As in Profesor Charles?” You asked lifting your eyes when the brunette snorted, rolling her eyes before settling her glare on you.

“The very same, I see my reputation precedes me.” Charles stated highly amused, he gave you a quick glance more to examine you than to actually give a check over. “But the one who is actually surprised is me.”

“You, sir?”

“I am ashamed to admit I thought you were older than what you really are.” Charles stated leaning back, he never lost his smile and his eyes went from you to Tony. 

“That’s a common mistake, sir. But you are really a legend.” This time around you sounded excited to meet the man, Tony puffed out his chest knowing he had done the right thing.

“Oh, please, an old legend ready to give way to the newest generation.” This time around he waved away his hand before turning to the woman standing silently behind him, “let me introduce you to my goddaughter who is uncharacteristically quiet this evening. Wanda Maximoff.”

Now everything came crashing down inside your mind. 

Your arm that was already stretching out to offer your hand stopped midway, your eyes shot up rather quickly and you found yourself looking into Wanda’s own eyes and you understood then and there the resentment. 

You knew that young woman, you had seen her before and had even kissed her once in a public place that ended up with her fighting her boyfriend after the incident. 

The initial shock waved off, your lips broke into an easy smile that soon was joined by your eyes and amusement was clearly drawn in your face. The woman narrowed her eyes, she stepped forward and, not for the first time, she slapped you before turning to the old man who was flabbergasted.

“Uncle Charles, I think I am not feeling well. Thank you for the invite, I will text you as soon as I get home.” Then she turned to Tony, nodding to him. “Mr. Stark.”

You stood frozen in place, your cheek stung with the force of the slap yet you couldn’t help but laugh at what just happened. Charles glanced at you apologetically yet completely curious as to what had gotten Wanda so worked up she decided to slap you in such a public place before leaving without an explanation. 

“Well, it is good to know you are still good at making friends,” Tony said after the initial shock passed, you turned to him placing a hand on your cheek, the smile still on your face. “What the hell did you do to her?”

Charles tilted his head just as interested as Tony with what had just transpired right in front of them. He had known Wanda from birth, and he knew she had quite the temper, but this kind of reaction was something he had never seen before. And if he were to be honest, with how things had been lately, he found refreshing just how full of life she looked just moments ago.

“Hey! I didn’t do anything to her, we just…” You trailed off lifting your arms, Tony rolled his eyes when you waved your fingers trying to find an explanation. “I…we meet under unfortunate circumstances and by those specific circumstances, I may have…well, you know what? I probably deserve the slap, so no harm done.”

Tony opened his mouth to say something when the laughter from Charles caught his attention, you tried to hold back your smile and Tony was actually surprised to see that reaction from the older man. Charles waved his hand away before settling his eyes on you.

“I bet there is an interesting story behind that, but I also know Wanda may be quite explosive at times.” Charles shrugged before grabbing your hand and squeezing comfortingly. “Now, there would be a time for stories, for now I would like to know you more in the professional capacity.”

You furrowed your brows and soon it was quite evident why Natasha had brought you to the function. 

Your life was about to change in ways you never thought possible. 

That was how the story of your heartbreak started.

With a slap and a job proposal.

______________________________________________________________

AN: So, this is the first chapter, i hope you guys enjoy it! tell me what you think and don't forget to like and share it you so want it!

[hitoshiyoshi]

what friends are for | midoriya izuku

synopsis ↬ your friend and coworker, Izuku, always protects you from creepy guys on the train... doesn't he deserve to be repaid?

warnings ↬ modern au, izuku feels shy and guilty, izuku busts way too fast,, ch*kan, public s-x, exh-bitionism, the reader is wearing a skirt, p*ssy job, non-penetrative s*x, c*m in panties, let me know if i've missed anything

pairings ↬ coworker!agedup!midoriya izuku x fem!reader

word count ↬ 2.4k

Tired feet shuffled inside the train car, soon packed to the brim with passengers ready to go home. Luckily you managed to enter before a swarm of people filled the space, taking all of the available seats and leaving most to stand in the walkways. The dark sky signaled nighttime; only the white overhead lights of the train car made everything visible. Finding a small space in the corner, you quickly took refuge and held onto the steel bar. You rubbed your arms together, trying to make some heat with the cold air. A finger lightly tapped on your shoulder, startling you.

Turning around, you see your friend and coworker, Izuku, standing behind you. He offers his scarf, outstretching his hand in your direction, and you happily accept. He whispers something about you “looking a little cold” as you wrap the fabric around your neck. Unfortunately, you haven’t worn a jacket or sweater today. You thought your office blazer could comfort you from the cold, but alas, you were wrong. Your pencil skirt barely gives you enough room to move; it was the only attire you could find after ruining your usual work clothes yesterday.

You move into your typical position: facing the wall directly in the corner, away from the rest of the passengers with Izuku directly behind you. It was the same stance you two took for the past few weeks. After a mishap with some creepy guy getting too close to you during a trip home, Izuku came in to save you. Scaring the man away and capturing a picture of him to report to the police.

Ever since that night, he promised to help you. This wasn’t his usual route home. It actually cost him more money and lengthened his travel time. If it meant protecting you, he didn’t mind. Izuku was grateful for you anyways. You were always kind to him at work, showing him the ropes on his first day and coming to his rescue whenever he missed an important deadline. He owed you more, but for now, you were satisfied.

When he was your shield, no one dared to bother you. You trusted him not to hurt you.

Your trip home went just like normal. For a few minutes, at least.

The train came to a sharp halt at the next station, much harder than before. Izuku didn’t prepare for the harsh movement of the train, he lost his footing and collided with your back. The motion of his body pressed you further against the metal walls of the train car. You peeked behind him, he soon uttered a soft “sorry…” and asked if you were alright.

“I’m fine, just a little startled is all,” You examined the area of the car with Izuku soon following suit. “Is there any way you can make some space? I’m kinda cramped here.”

“I don’t think I can,” Unfortunately the tiny amount of room created by his actions was soon filled by people coming in from the station. Bodies bounced into each other as the train began moving again. “We’ll have to endure it until the next stop…”

Nodding along to his words, you succumbed to your predicament. The station after this wouldn’t arrive for a long time; another ten to fifteen minutes before you could have some relief. It wasn’t too bad, you felt safe with Izuku closer to you.

However, the fluffy green-haired man behind you only felt a sense of dread with the closeness of your bodies. He eagerly wished for the next station to arrive soon. You molded perfectly to him, fitting like a jigsaw puzzle piece. This time was worse than all the others; your plush ass nuzzled against his lower half, deepening with every sway of the train. He wasn’t sure how you hadn’t noticed, you always seemed quite happy with his presence. It was a terrible feeling.

Izuku couldn’t stop himself from feeling guilty.

He promised to keep you safe during these times. But with the sprouting girth in his clothed pants, he was no better than the scums who violated you with their sickly hands. He tried to cool off most days, trying to think of pure thoughts like assignments for work or dinner with his family. Izuku was scared of the small part of him that desperately wanted to caress your inner thighs and slip inside the warmth under your skirt. Your skirt. Why on all days did you wear such a stunning thing? It hugged every dip and curve of your legs just right. Any weird person could easily touch you if they wanted to.

With the next shift of the train, you felt it. Hardened and nestled into your bum, begging for contact with your skin. You blinked a few times, trying to process if it was indeed what you thought. Of course, it couldn’t be… Izuku wouldn’t dare do such a thing. His clenched fist is seen in your peripheral vision, and you notice his arm straining to keep to his side.

“Izu, everything okay?” You ask while peeping behind to check on him again.

His face flushed pink with embarrassment, not daring to stare up at you. Izuku’s head was transfixed with the ground… and his protruding member. Finally, you noticed the tent in his pants roughly digging into your backside. His face showed signs of humiliation yet his hips bucked with greed. Of course, you didn’t want to believe it. But with each of his harsh movements and his prodding tip over your cotton skirt, it was obvious. You felt your cheeks begin to burn with his sudden touches, only glancing behind you for a few seconds before quickly turning to face to the wall.

“S- Should I move?” You ask, knowing that there was no available space.

“No, sorry… Let’s just stay like this,” Izuku’s hands move to wrap around your waist and soon press his chest further into your back. Any more movements would’ve only worsened his problem.

Yet, as he nuzzled closer into your neck, he didn’t seem bothered as the seconds passed. Izuku’s palm would graze over your hips, sometimes dipping lower past the hem of your skirt and wanting to slip inside. His conscience held him back from committing an act that he would soon regret as if he wasn’t already doing so. Perhaps the only thing he found hard to fathom was your surprisingly calm demeanor, letting his wandering hands have their way with you. He couldn’t hear your rapidly beating heart over the bustling sound of the train.

Growing curiosity spurred his fingers to travel underneath your clothing and caress along your inner thighs. He let out a soft gasp in your ear at the undeniable heat that began to pool between your legs. Touching the fabric that was coated with your slick and pressing his fingertips along your clit. A feeling of uncertainty caused his hand to retreat backward to his side.

“S-Shit… Sorry, didn’t mean to-” His frantic voice seemed cute, still afraid that he’d somehow broken your trust. Until your hand reached for his own, placing it back on your skirt.

“It’s alright, Izu,” You gently spun your body around to face him, and his eyes widened at your action.

Your touching chests only seemed to make his cheeks redder. He found it difficult to face you but your closeness made it impossible to avoid. Raising his briefcase to block the eyes of onlookers, you watched as Izuku seemed to gulp nervously with his internal battle of guilt. The other passengers nearby seemed too lost in their own worlds to care about the scenes that would soon take place.

“I can help with your problem,” You say while guiding his hands to lift your skirt upwards, stopping once your panties and thighs are exposed to the chilly air. “Just promise to help me after…”

He swiftly nods in agreement, and soon his remorse dissipates. Your fingers tug at his zipper, smirking at the damp spot sullying the tip of his tent in his grey briefs. Your fingers dance around the veins of his girthy shaft before tugging the fabric and exposing his stiff shaft to the air. Patches of his dark green hair peak out as you graze along his skin. Izuku shutters and shifts in a strange manner, gritting his teeth as your soft touch seems to coax him to an impending release. Watching him swell in shyness was only pleasing for a few slow seconds.

You soon release him and stare as he whines, missing your soothing touch. Luckily, those around you stayed with their backs turned, and with Izuku’s cover, you have enough space to lift your skirt. Lifting the material well past your thighs and bum under his lingering gaze. You hooked your fingers over the lace material of your panties and lowered them just until there was enough space. Your fingers returned to his cock, pumping around his length – feeling him stiffen in your palms – before pressing your bodies closer as his tip prodded at your swollen clit. Mixing your juices on your bud before nestling his cock between your folds and lace underwear.

Izuku’s free hand wrapped around your lower back, just over your bum, and pulled you closer until there were no inches between you two. Resting your head on his shoulder, you heard his breath hitch as he tried to swallow his soft moans. It was all too much, he thought. The same reason he tried not to succumb to his lustful desires. Your clear slick coats his still sprouting cock as his hips begin to rut against your body. Moving tender and loving before being overcome with a newfound sense of vigor.

The force of his sloppy thrusts soon matched every sway and rustling motion of the train. His grip on the soft flesh on your back tightened withstinging pain, trying to clutch and hold onto anything. Panting and whimpering expletives in a hushed voice, “fu- fuck… i- i can’t… you’re so… good,” right in your ear. Izuku’s dreamt of this since the first day he laid eyes on you; the feeling of your heat against his hardened cock. Soon, he recognizes that perhaps he’s just as sick and twisted as those creepy passengers. With every roll of his hips, your bud surges with pleasure. Wanting to feel his thick girth fill your soaking walls until he paints your insides white.

Your wish was not too far from his own, he wasn’t sure how he would sleep tonight. Chasing after his release, Izuku fails to notice his voice becoming louder. A few passengers peak behind, yet the lower half of their view is blocked, thankfully. You capture his lips in a deep kiss that he eagerly reciprocates. Nipping into your lower lip as you moan quietly in his mouth. You soon garner the attention of one woman nearby who stares away in disgust but doesn’t complain. Yet, you could care less about her disapproving thoughts.

Blood rushed to his red cheeks as you felt his chest tighten in your close embrace. As he suckled on your now plump lips, you felt his cock twitch. Holding your body close, his thrusts became rushed and desperate while his muscles tensed. Soon, his hips slowed and came to a sudden halt. Izuku pulled back, breaking your kiss and moving his hand away from you to hold the base of his cock. Emptying his warm seed over the hood of your clit, overflowing after being suppressed for far too long. As more milky essence gushed, he swirled the tip of his shaft over your bud – adding pressure to your heat that yearned for a release.

Giving no time to calm from his high, Izuku helps tidy your clothes. A surge of joy fills him as he watches his cum drip onto your panties, a messy sign of his territory. Once he’s finished, he quickly fixes himself with your aid. A cold and slow trickle of his essence runs down your leg. He fetches a paper napkin and cleans you up as if nothing happened; he’s always overprepared.

The next station soon approaches allowing most of the passengers to depart and finally giving you some room to breathe. A pair of seats are empty and Izuku happily escorts you to them before they are stolen. Your routine continues; you usually sit next to each other and discuss work or any lingering thoughts for the day. Except for tonight, you rest your head on his shoulder. Too tired and distracted from the feeling of your cum-stained panties pressing against your heat.

When your stop finally comes, you raise to your feet and attempt to leave. You tell Izuku ‘goodbye’ and wish him well for the rest of his ride home. Until you feel his hand grasp yours…

“Wait..!” He says before standing. His grip is nearly as strong as before.

“What is it?” You ask, gaining the attention of a couple seated happily nearby.

“I never fixed your problem,” He starts, blushing shyly and shifting uncomfortably in his tight slacks. “My place is only a few stops away… and we have time.”

The train begins to depart from your station, and the doors lock and trap you inside. It wouldn’t hurt to stay a little while longer…

Izuku leads you to some seats right at the back of the train car, this time making you sit on his lap. The rest of the passengers are some distance away, only a few. The couple peeks at you two but turns their heads away once realizing your bodies are too far. He takes the chance to raise the hem of your skirt again. He knows this route well, people barely board the train at this hour — he has you all to himself.

Izuku slips his fingers inside your panties, instantly feeling his sticky cum from earlier. Still warm from the heat erupting between your legs. The pads of his fingers massage circles around your needy clit. With each flutter of his fingers against your core, your walls spasm, and Izuku’s soft chuckle resounds in your ear. Lubricating your folds with his cum before dipping around your opening and coating his fingers in slick.

The sudden feeling of his digits slipping inside your dripping wetness causes a moan to slip past your lips — loud enough for some passengers to hear. Izuku’s hand instinctively covers your mouth and quells more from coming out. He holds you still as the seconds pass and he believes he’s in the clear. No one disturbs you two, lacking the courage to do so.

“Careful now, can’t help if you make too much noise,” He removes his hand from your mouth, choosing to settle near your waist. “Let me repay you… after all, it’s what friends are for,”

| ✎ hitoshiyoshi’s kinktober masterlist |

[kscheibles]

e la vita ch. 3

~ ch. 1 & ch.2 here ~

content warnings: f! reader, bisexuality, p in v sex, feelings, angst

word count: 7.4k

a/n: thank you all for coming on this ride with me! i am so grateful to have you guys in my life <3

I’ve convinced Matty to take me back to his. Partially because I’m embarrassed to be sleeping on the pull-out couch and partially because I don’t want to go all the way back up the hill to Nina’s. I’ve spent so much time wallowing that I want to jump at the possibility of something as hedonistic as having sex with Matty. It feels like something I’ve earned.

The boys’ villa looks different than I remember it. The hazy afternoon light brightens it and I can see now that it’s decorated quite nicely. It must not be theirs if they’ve been coming here since they were teenagers; it probably belongs to Matty’s family but I see it as a credit to him anyway. I think I’m delusional enough at this point that I’d see anything about him as meritorious.

Matty takes my hand and leads me up the stairs to the second floor, stopping me as soon as I reach the top to push me up against the wall and kiss me. He boxes me in with his arms around my head, creating a space for just us, and petting my hair gently as his mouth explores mine. He feels warm and comfortable and my world goes fuzzy. He smiles against me and pecks at my chin sweetly once he’s had enough of my lips. He pulls me further along the corridor, looking back at me and pressing a finger to his lips.

“Are you not allowed to have girls home?” I tease as he opens the door to his room. He trots over to the window and opens it, letting fresh air into the space. Then he makes his way back to me, pulling me into him by my dress until my lips almost touch his.

“Nah,” he smiles into me, “George usually takes a nap around this time. Don’t wanna wake him if I don’t have to.”

He pushes me back to sit on the foot of the bed, and I immediately start unbuttoning his shirt. I look up at him innocently.

“Does that mean I can’t be loud?” I ask. I mean it earnestly, but the fact that me whining and looking up at him pouting turns him on is a delightful bonus. 

His hand finds my jaw, caressing it sweetly. “You can be as loud as you want, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to miss a single pretty noise you make.”

I smile and move to stand to get rid of my dress. Matty’s hands find my shoulders and push me back down.

“Lay back,” he says. I shuffle back on the bed until my back meets soft pillows. I look down to the sheets for a moment and I notice they’re littered with blue and green flowers, like something my grandmother would have swooned over in the eighties. They smell like my grandmother, too; that sweet, musky smell of things that have lived a hundred lives already. They’re soft but not quite threadbare beneath my fingertips. I muse at the idea, thinking Matty has probably worn them out over the many, many years he’s been coming here. The sheets contain stories I’ll never know, that I’ll never even think to ask. 

“Is everything okay?” His voice brings me back to reality.

“Yeah, they’re pretty s’all.”

“The sheets?”

“Yeah, but not as pretty as you,” I sigh as I catch his earlobe in my mouth. He gasps as I do, “You gonna undress me? Or are you all talk?”

“Fuck me,” Matty mutters under his breath, his hands find the hem of my dress and push it over my head, skimming my sides as he does. His fingers leave goosebumps in their wake, tickling me slightly, setting my nerves on fire. 

My bra and underwear are still slightly damp from our dip in the lake. Matty kneels between my legs immediately, kissing the space between my breasts, the outline of my ribcage that dips down into my soft belly. He spreads his hands over my torso, holding my middle to his mouth so I can’t escape his worship. 

I grab onto his hair and hold tight to him as he kisses his way further down. He looks up at me, panting, through dark lashes before he touches the waistband of my panties. My mouth is open, gasping for breath, as I nod to him eagerly. I plant my feet on the soft bed and lift my hips to help Matty as he removes my underwear. He’s greeted by dark, thick hair and wetness.

He looks at me for a moment, taking me in.

“I didn’t expect this, either,” I say, blushing. He leans down and presses a kiss to my inner thigh.

“It’s perfect,” he whispers into the skin there. He crawls back on top of me and reaches around to my back to take my bra off. I arch my back to help guide it off and Matty looks as if he could bust right then and there, knelt on the bed and completely clothed.

After a second more of dumbness, he asks, “Do you know how pretty you are?”

My hands come to cover my face. It's too much, too romantic. And what's more, the answer is no; I don’t know how pretty I am. I’m wise enough to know that, when I look in the mirror, the image that makes it to my brain is distorted. I could be looking at a supermodel, but if I knew her reflection belonged to me, I would despise it. I don’t know why after so many years of learning to love myself, I still fall short, but I do. Each and every time. Besides, it feels like a ridiculous thing for him to say. Matty grabs my wrists, tugging the shelter from my eyes, and brings one hand down to cover my breast, squeezing it.

“Feel yourself,” he whispers in my ear, pinning my other hand above my head. He helps me massage my left breast and I moan involuntarily as he does. “That’s right, baby, feels so good, doesn’t it? So soft and warm. Does it feel good when you touch yourself like this?”

I moan and nod, letting out a barely audible whimper. 

His mouth trails from my ear down to my jaw and neck, “Words, please,” he instructs.

“Yes,” I gasp, “It feels good. I feel good, Matty.”

“Good.” He folds my hand back into his and trails it down my ribs, down into the dark patch of hair that grows between my legs. “Touch yourself for me, baby,” he whines into my chest, “Want you to feel good.” I meet his eyes for a second, apprehensive. He nods at me encouragingly and I smile lazily, resigned to his will. I bring my hand down, lower and lower, gathering some wetness so I can rub my clit. It’s like the treatment for an illness; that little bit of pressure on my bud eases the ache between my legs instantly, allowing the feeling to morph and change into something pleasurable. I trap my clit between two fingers and stroke myself up and down as Matty catches my lips in his again.

“That’s it, you listen so well,” he says, “How does it feel?”

“God,” I buck against my hand, “It feels so good. So wet and warm please I want you to feel.” His hand comes down to cover mine and I sit up on my elbows to watch him, wanting to see his reaction to my body. I hope it pleases him. My mouth hangs open as I keep my eyes on his face. I feel him playing with me and I whine. Matty begins to tease my entrance, barely dipping in, feeling my muscles contract and relax. I watch his face as he finally slides two fingers into me. When he shuts his eyes, I do too, clenching at the feeling. It feels otherworldly; so different from when I touch myself because I can’t anticipate it. I let my hands fall above my head, arching up into his touch and writhing in pleasure, chasing something, and following my body’s instincts of what feels right.

I feel empty all of a sudden. My eyes snap open.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, looking down at Matty, who’s watching me, mesmerized.

“Oh fuck, sorry,” he acquiesces, moving his hands back onto me, “You’re fucking perfect, I just wanted to watch.” He leans up and kisses me as he strokes my clit side-to-side, building me up and leading me to the edge. 

“Can I please fuck you?” he asks into my mouth. I nod furiously, knocking my teeth against his and smiling bashfully in the wake of my mistake and my eagerness. 

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“That’s alright,” he smiles into my mouth and I inhale it like a drug. I watch him hazily as he gets up onto his knees and moves off the bed, removing his pants and boxers. It’s a reveal that’s come at a time when I can’t fully appreciate it. I'm too dumb with the anticipation and excitement of having sex with someone new to be able to fully take him in, or compare him to anything. I just want him as close to me as he can be. 

He reaches into a drawer somewhere and retrieves a condom, tearing the wrapper and rolling it onto himself. Then he’s kneeling beside me, taking up my whole consciousness. He’s all I can see and think about. And, when he kisses me, it doesn’t feel new, it feels old and known. Like this was supposed to happen in every parallel universe. Like it’s happened before and we’ve found our ways back to each other. He feels like an extension of me, an appendage that’s been missing that I’d just learned to live without.

“You ready?” he mumbles against my lips.

“Yeah.” I chew on my lip slightly as Matty moves over me, spreading my legs to invite him into the space between them. He lines himself up and taps my clit with his cock. It jolts me back to life and my eyes catch his. 

“There you are,” he smiles, beginning to push into me. I close my eyes, bracing myself. 

I can feel him sinking into me, getting deeper with every short thrust, coating himself in me. My ears are ringing and my skin is abuzz. It hurts a little bit, and I’m just about to decide whether I need to speak up when I feel Matty’s lips on my cheek, nuzzling me and asking for attention. I open my eyes to see Matty – the cocky boy I met at a party in my pajamas, whose very nature seemed custom-made to off-put me – hovering above me, his black pupils dilated and vast, lips plump and agape, heaving as though it’s taking everything in him not to fuck me bruisingly.

“You can move,” I say.

“Oh thank god,” he breathes, and wastes no time beginning to move his hips into mine. He rocks into me slowly at first and I try to remember what I’m supposed to focus on. Matty answers for me, taking my hands in his and pinning them above my head as he ramps up the pace, slamming his hips into mine with abandon.

I wrinkle my eyebrows and look into his eyes which bore down into me. I feel watched, lauded, revered even. Matty holds my hips and turns one leg over the other, so I’m lying in a fetal position. Then he leans down and brings his hand to my neck firmly, like a collar. Not enough pressure to even stop the blood rushing to my head. It’s sweet and dominating and ultimately reassuring. His other hand squeezes at the flesh of my ass as he re-enters me, moving faster than last time. I can feel him inside of me literally, in the places he's physically touching, as well as in every pleasurable nerve in my body. Matty forces my body to sing for him; he conducts it like a symphony. 

“Can you go a little faster, please,” I squeak out, and I’m instantly throttled by more pleasure, hot and hard. He moves faster than I thought possible and I can feel my body building to a high, tightening in anticipation.

“I’m gonna cum,” Matty gasps, “Fuck! Where do you want me to cum?”

“On me,” he pulls out a second later, holding his cock in his hand and pumping himself. 

A second later I’m covered in white drops of cum, like confetti or sweat or dew. 

“Fuck!” he pants, rolling over onto his side, “Let me get you a towel sorry I didn’t think.”

He stands and turns around, and it’s the first time I’m fully able to appreciate his nakedness. Taut, firm muscle decorates his back and descends into his ass and legs. I watch each ripple and flex absentmindedly as he grabs a washcloth from the wardrobe in the corner and returns to bed. He looks at me, body a mess of water and salt and cum, and gently wipes it all away. I gulp as he does, watching the methodical way he maneuvers the cloth, folding it each time he captures more of us inside of it. Inside of there is the only proof that we were ever real, I think. Despite the fact that Matty and I have been spending lots of time together recently, we don’t have any photos together. He hasn’t bought me anything I could point to as proof of his affection. When I tell my friends back in New York about him, they will just have to take my word for it. The real us will be scrubbed away on a metal washboard and hung out to line dry in the punishing midday sun. I won’t have someone to reminisce about it with because the only person who experienced it with me will be Matty, and he will be gone. 

I snap myself out of it. It’s typical of me to think about how things end before they’ve even begun. I think that, if I do that, somehow I’ll prepare myself for the hurt and then the reality will have a little less sting. In practice, things hurt whether we are prepared for them or not. Trying to measure whether they hurt less than they could have is a fool’s errand. I only get to experience things once. I’m infinitely limited that way.

Matty throws the rag away and focuses completely on me. I meet his eyes, suddenly unable to say anything. I think he wants me to say it was good or to ask a question or be mad at him or something. I don’t want to, I just want to be in this moment. I want to stretch it out like taffy and make it last forever: Matty panting quietly, blissed out next to me and me, quiet for once in my life with traces of him sticking to my body.

I move my head to his chest, squishing my face into him so he can’t implore me to speak any longer. I smell him and feel his firm muscles that support me from under tender, white skin. I feel my head ebb and flow on the surface of his swelling ribcage, a constant reassurance of some kind.

“Sorry, I kinda forget to breathe during sex,” he chuckles, heaving some more.

“I don’t mind,” I manage.

“Okay.”

I’m scared of the comedown. I’m scared he’ll want me to leave. I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing. I’m scared of difficult questions. I just want this. This is comfortable, at least. 

“Do you compare me to her?” he whispers, index finger circling my shoulder blade. I frown.

“Who?” I ask.

“Your ex-girlfriend.” I chuckle a little bit.

“What’s to compare?” It’s a question but I make it sound more like a statement. Or I mean to, anyways.

“I dunno,” he drawls, “like how good I make you feel or somethin’.”

“No,” I answer, “definitely not that.” He sits up against the headboard and kicks the duvet off his legs.

“Other things then?”

“Do you compare your sexual partners to each other?” I ask.

“Not really, I guess,” he mutters. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t know. It would last longer with her but that’s just how it is when it’s two girls,” I shuffle myself deeper into him, I want to show him that I want to be close to him. His hand comes up to my hair on instinct. “I don’t mind that you get tired or whatever, it’s just, like, different. I don’t know.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Just different. Like ‘ooooh’ and ‘aaaah,’ I guess. They both feel good, they're just a little different,” I look up at his face to make sure he believes me. 

“I’m sorry to make you give me the bisexuality crash course,” I smile into the soft skin that covers his pecs, “I suppose it makes me a little self-conscious. Knowing you’ve done all the stuff I do to you.”

“Well not all of it,” I chuckle at him. He swats my shoulder.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he says. I remember her; her hips and her whines. It hurts a lot less than it once did but it’s not quite devoid of any sting. 

“I do kind of wish I could experience it from a boy’s point of view,” I state. I debate whether I’ll tell him what I mean. I wouldn’t want him to see me as masculine or someone who doesn’t want him. My therapist would say that if he does think those things then he’s not right for me, but what if I don’t necessarily want him to be right? It’s not that I want him to be wrong, per se. I just want him to be exactly who he is. And, if who he is hurts me, I’m okay with that, I think. It’s the first time in a long time that I’m sure I can handle being hurt. Not because I have some magic tonic to get over it, but because I know there’s nothing I can do to stop it hurting. Other people would hurt me anyway – coworkers, family members – but none of them are Matty. At least if he were to hurt me it would come from him. He would never hit me below the belt or lie to himself about me when I’m gone. In a funny way, that’s comforting. I trust him to hurt me.

“How so?” he prods me.

“Like to actually get to feel a girl on your own… genitals, I guess. Yeah, I mean there’s lots of great ways for women to have sex but there’s always some artificiality to it, I feel. It’s never gonna feel the same for me to fuck a girl as it does for you is what I’m trying to say.”

“What if it’s not supposed to?”

“Oh don’t go all philosophical on me. Wouldn’t you be upset if all of a sudden when you had sex with a girl you couldn’t feel your dick?”

“I suppose it is pretty awesome the way it is,” he concedes, “You can still feel it though, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’ll end up hating me,” I bury my face into his shoulder, resenting that I even brought it up. 

“We don’t have to talk about it but I guess what I wanted to say was you can’t go around just wanting what you don’t have or you’ll miss what’s in front of you,” he says, “I know that sounds cheesy but I used to, like, go on tour and spend every minute missing my girlfriend. Even when I was stood in front of 10,000 people who were singing my most intimate thoughts back to me. But we don’t get to choose when and how we’re loved. All we can choose is where to place our own attention. So if I look out at the faces of a bunch of kids who spent their allowances to come and see me sing and I’m thinking about some other shit that I don’t have right now, I’m basically mugging them off. I’m being a dick, like rejecting their love. You can’t have sex with a girl and feel them the same way I can, okay whatever. But that’s not what makes it great anyways –  I mean sure, it’s part of it, but it’s not everything. Deep down you know that. It’s just … life’s not fair.”

I sit up on top of him so now my face hovers above his. “It’s fair enough,” I say, “at least right now it is.”

“I think so, too,” he smiles at me. Then I kiss him.

-

Around noon the next day, I find myself in the city center, food shopping for the villa. The yellow midday light caresses each uneven brick in the street, each metal cafe chair and table. It turns them from something cold and uninviting to something so bright it blinds me. I sit down at one of the local eateries to have a break before committing to the arduous hike back up the hill. I’ve scarcely ordered a glass of wine when I hear an old woman seeking my attention from the table over.

“Ciao, cara!” she addresses me as if she knows me. I figure she must be someone I’ve met before, or at least it’s better to assume that than the alternative.

“Ciao!” I fumble as I switch to a foreign tongue, “Non parlo italiano. Solo inglese.”

“It’s going to rain!” she says, animatedly. 

“Now?” I ask, stunned.

“Later,” she shakes her head, “You will need to go inside soon.”

I tilt my head back, letting the light overtake my field of vision. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to rain. It seems like a perfect summer day.

“Don’t trust the sun,” she barks, drawing my attention back down to Earth, “It will not give you any answers.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course,” she croons. A waiter brings a glass of white out to my table and I thank him for it. I sip on it, it’s fruity and light. Noncommittal. 

“You will never feel more alone than when you are stuck in the rain,” the woman continues, “I know it too well.”

“I’ve been feeling alone a lot recently. I’m just about used to it,” I try to console her, to show her she doesn’t need to worry about me.

“You will never be used to loneliness!” she gasps, “My husband died a decade ago and I am still lonely. I was with him for twenty-two years! Oh, I have my cats and my girlfriends, but I will always be lonely. One day he was here and then he was not. It’s mourning, it’s never over.”

“I hope that’s not true…”

“Believe it. Once you understand you cannot make it go away, then you can make peace with it,” she huffs, raising her wine glass to her lips, and I wonder how many portions preceded it. She shuffles her chair away from the table and begins to walk away.

“Goodbye, have a good afternoon,” I say, trying to ease the awkwardness that seems to be perceptible to only me.

“Ciao, cara,” she calls, “Believe it!”

I take a sip of my wine that evades categorizing and look up at the sky once more. Dark gray clouds have started to crowd the sunny expanse from the west. I hum to myself and turn the woman’s words over in my mind: You will never be used to loneliness. Believe it. 

-

Moonlight twinkles through the windows of the villa, tinting the warm room with coolness. The girls are out– some party I bailed on to spend time with Matty. I seem to be doing that a lot, lately. I want to be angry with myself for it, but I can’t find the will. I feel good when I’m with him. I’m not encumbered by my own self-perception. It’s like when I’m with him, I’m too preoccupied with him, learning about him, knowing him, to be concerned with what I’m missing out on. When I lie with him, I can’t begin to worry whether my tummy is too big or if my double chin is visible; all I want is to know more about Matty. I want to search his body, taking inventory of the innocuous tattoos that litter his legs, kissing each one with fervor, tasting the sweat that caresses every centimeter of his lush body. I want to know everything about him; I want to squeeze every bit of knowledge out of him until he’s begging me to take a turn answering questions. I want to know him completely.

I don’t know how to like someone a regular amount. I only know how to pine, and fall delusionally in love, and fuck it up. After all, what’s the point of being infatuated if you don’t feel your life is wildly improved with each second you spend with the other person? And if that’s the case, why wouldn’t you sacrifice everything to be in their presence?

Matty is sat up against the pillows in my pull-out bed. My head is in his lap and his hands tickle my scalp lightly. He brought along a record to play but it hasn’t been playing for a solid ten minutes at this point. Flipping it to the B-side would mean removing ourselves from one another, something neither of us is particularly keen on. 

“You don’t want to go out?” Matty speaks aloud, cutting through the comfortable silence we’ve fallen into.

“Not really,” I mumble. I meet his eyes, he doesn’t seem to understand. Probably not in his rockstar nature to stay home, I think.

“I won’t be able to enjoy it anyways,” I continue, “I go home so soon. If I drink, I’ll just start thinking about New York and I won’t be able to enjoy the present.”

“You’re a sad drunk? I thought you were an angry one. If memory serves,” he chuckles, recalling the night I stopped hating him.

“I think I’m just a kind of sad person,” I say, “Not in a bad way. Just I find it hard to live in the moment. I’m either stressing about the future or mourning the past.”

“I get it. It’s kind of fun to be nostalgic.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Why are you stressing about the future?”

“I’m not right now, I guess. Just thinking about you,” I smile up at him.

“Well what stresses you out about the future more generally?” he asks.

I look at him quietly, sitting up in his lap so my head is against his heart. What does stress me out about the future? It’s nothing in in particular, I suppose. It’s more the fact that I know no matter how much I plan, things will go wrong. People will leave me. I’ll never stick the landing quite as intended. Or maybe I will sometimes, but not all the time. There’s no safety net for me anymore. 

“Sometimes I just feel like a little girl who doesn’t have anyone to take care of her anymore,” I whisper. 

There are two sides to every coin. On one side is the reality that, without Claire, I feel freer than I have in a long time. I’m in Italy, doing exactly what I want. When I want to head out in the middle of the day and go to a museum, I don’t have to wait for anyone else to be ready. I don’t have to consider whether she’d like to go home when I’m out in the city. I can pick up a bouquet of flowers at the store without feeling like I should have waited to see if she would buy me some and feeling the resentment sneak in that she hasn’t. I can sprawl out on my pull-out bed and sleep whenever and however long I want. I’m living completely according to my own desires.

On the other side of the coin is the equally true fact that it’s harder to be alone. There’s no one to pick up my slack. No one who’s thought to make me dinner when I stay late at work. There’s no one built in to accompany me on errands that scare me or offer to do them in my place. There’s no one to notice that we’ve run out of paper towels and grab them from the store or pick up the check when I go out to eat. 

I miss the days when my mom would lay my school clothes out for me and make dinner without asking me what I wanted to eat. I miss the fact that my dad went to work every day without complaining and paid the mortgage without mentioning it to me. I could coast. Now I feel I’ll never coast again. The closest I’ll get is having someone to share those burdens with. 

I’m so tired. With miles and miles to go before the finish line, I find myself wondering what the end even is and whether it’s actually worth running towards.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, holding my head to him. 

“No, you won’t,” I tell him, “You have other things – other people – to take care of. There’s a time limit for how long you can take care of me.”

“Let me reach it. Don’t cast me out before the chips fall. Please.”

I look up into his endless brown eyes, filled with earnestness and itinerancy. I don’t know if I can let him. Despite the fact that I desire it so intently, I’m scared to believe that someone could care for me. I’m scared to let my guard down and get used to the help, to the tranquility, the comfortability of someone taking some of my burdens off my shoulders. As of recent, I am intimately aware that everything ends, and getting used to someone’s help only means it will be harder to move on. I’ll have to start flexing muscles that I haven’t used in years, that I don’t even remember how to engage. It’s happened with old friends and mentors. It happened with Claire. My independence and emotional fortitude atrophied due to lack of use. Those things aren’t easy to relearn. They were qualities I fought hard to develop and then cast out as soon as I realized I could get by without them. I consigned them to my partner all too willingly. I can’t make that mistake again. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t put myself in that kind of vulnerable position. It hurts too damn much.

The only knowledge that offers a modicum of relief is the fact that I’m not the only person who has gone through this. Every girlfriend my age has been in one of these relationships. We grew up in divorced or toxic households and learned very quickly that the story doesn’t end with ‘happily ever after’. We learned that who we invited into our vicinity and into our homes was of the utmost importance and we treated those decisions with the requisite gravity: denying ourselves suitors and kisses – anything that could distract us from developing our own independence. Then we met someone we wanted to try with and we did everything with them. We made commitments and stuck to them through thick and thin, even when it was hard. And then, one by one, our partners stopped caring. They stopped wanting to figure things out, they started investing the sacrosanct learnings of our relationships into other people. They receded from us continually until we had to declare that there was nothing left there, instead of sparing us the pain of watching them retreat and feeling discarded by the first person we had truly chosen to trust. 

The skills I can gain back but I wonder if the betrayal will hurt forever. It sure seems like it will. Worse than that, it feels like I’ll want her back forever, even though I know she doesn’t want to try with me anymore. When I think of Claire, I still think of comfort and safety even though I also know of her seemingly infinite capacity to hurt me. I care more about being loved than being happy sometimes. My twisted mind thinks that being loveable is more important. It’s some kind of sick validation that I've been seeking all my life: I want to be loved. When I’m being loved seems to be the only time when my mind can truly quiet.

I’m crying, I can’t stop it. It’s a cosmic release I’ve been seeking for months: validation that what I’m experiencing is real and deserved and I’m not just some girl who got too attached like so many girls before her. I release the pain and the guilt. The guilt that I didn’t try hard enough, or treat her well enough. That maybe if I had compromised more – gone to stay with her family at Christmas, and given her more orgasms, and brought her breakfasts in bed – this never would have happened and I’d be contentedly walking under some scaffolding on 5th Avenue while acrid steam rises from the street with Claire’s hand in mine. I don’t want it anymore, I realize. For the first time ever, I don’t want her hand in mine. I want Matty’s.

I take his hand in mine and move to sit in his lap, one knee on each side of his body. As tears spill from the corners of my eyes, I lean to meet Matty’s mouth in a kiss, hungry and desperate. His hands find my face, frantically wiping the wetness from my cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks me. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” I insist as more tears fall. I rise to my knees and let my hands fall to the button of his jeans.

His hands cover mine, stilling them. “Seriously, y/n.”

“Seriously, I’m fine.” I look into his eyes trying to convince him by will alone. “I promise.”

His mouth is on mine before I can finish my words. It’s wet and warm and euphoric; it makes my skin buzz. I hope it does for him, too. I move my hands to his hair, clinging to him for dear life as he devours me. The kiss is so passionate that it seems the only way to be closer to him would be to consume him. I moan, loud and long, into his mouth and he swallows it, he swallows my inhibitions and my melancholia.

Matty’s hands slip under the hem of my shirt and gently trace up my sides as he rids me of my t-shirt. I reach behind my back to unclasp my bra and Matty’s hands find my breasts on instinct as I return my attention to the button of his jeans, working diligently. He lifts his hips to help guide his pants and boxers off and slowly bends me backward onto the couch. I press a finger to his mouth as he tries to kiss me again.

“I need to be on top,” I breathe out, raggedly. “Is that okay?”

He nods, sitting up on the couch, naked from the waist down. I stand up, take my own pants off, and move back to him, hovering above him for a moment. 

Matty caresses my inner thigh, slowly traversing the skin closest to my pussy, playing languidly with the wetness around my hole that beckons him. 

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this right now? I don’t want to be a bad guy.” 

“Please, you’re not,” I implore him, kissing his neck and jawline, “You’re not. I want you.” He removes his hand from my center and my brows crease in frustration. 

Matty holds my face in his hands like a precious china doll, touch firmly caring. Like he knows he could break me and he’s anxious to be sure he doesn’t. 

“I don’t ever want to hurt you. Ever. You get it?” 

“I know,” I say into his shoulder.

He slides his fingers inside me, finally, and my head falls to his shoulder as I feel him stretching me out. I whine into his shoulder as he fucks me gently with his fingers, moving them shallowly inside of me, searching for my spot. 

“Gonna fuck you now, okay?” he asks, looking into my eyes, praying that I answer him soberly.

I nod dumbly, reaching for his cock below me. I look at it and put my hand on it testingly, feeling him warm and throbbing for me. I move him towards my core and sink down onto him, eyes closing, body yielding to pleasure.

I begin to rock my hips back and forth on him, feeling the delicious pressure on my clit mix with the fullness of him inside me. I feel high, pliable, and vulnerable.

“Look at me,” he commands, and I do it on instinct. I don’t even think. I just want to please him so badly. I know he knows me. I know he’ll take care of me. He answers all my questions with a simple action or turn of phrase. 

“Good girl.” The words go straight to my head, inducing some kind of fantastical euphoria in my brain. His words are like a puzzle piece that has been missing my whole life. Every minute I spent on my knees praying to God, every project I submitted in school — they were all desperate attempts to hear those two words, to begin believing that I could be good. That I wasn’t inherently evil and my nature wasn’t sinful. Despite the fact that I’ve been mean to my friends and selfish when I have things to give, I want to be told that I’m okay anyway. It’s all I’ve wanted to be my whole life, good. And to Matty, I am. It feels like the most right thing in the world. I’d do anything to be good for him, to hear those words one more time. I let the tenderness and oxytocin wash over me, bringing more tears to my eyes as he begins to lift his hips up to meet mine. 

“I’m good?” I squeak out softly, panting and hazy.

“You’re good, baby,” he assures me with a kiss to my lips. It’s hungry and messy and it spurs me on; I ride him harder, faster. I buck into him over and over until numbness begins to crowd the taut muscles of my thighs.

“Let me take a turn,” he says, lifting me off him and laying me down on my back on the couch, “That okay?”

I nod eagerly. Matty holds onto my hips as he begins to nudge into me again, bringing my thighs closer to him than I had ever thought possible as he does.

My whole consciousness is him. I can remember to open my eyes only for seconds at a time. When I do, my whole vision is filled with him: his mouth agape and panting roughly, body falling into me repeatedly, eyes boring into mine, begging me to yield to him.

His hand moves to my clit, rubbing it in time with each perfect thrust. I’m happy, fuzzy, free, and savoring each pleasurable touch like I’ve been starved and Matty is the first food I’ve seen in days.

“Can you cum for me?” he asks, almost nervous.

I nod deliriously, taking his hand in mine – a sinful inversion of his actions the first time we fucked – and use it against my clit the way I need. Matty grunts primally in response and captures my lips between his, moaning into my open mouth. It’s filled with want – no, need. Made hotter by the fact that I know I need him just as badly. 

The pressure on my clit and inside me builds to its hilt and spreads all over my body. I’m cumming over and over, completely unbridled and without warning. I can feel myself clenching around Matty repeatedly, inadvertently. I can vaguely feel him finishing inside of me, more from warmth and wetness than anything else. It’s a foreign feeling, really, but it fills me with pride. Despite my own high, I’m happy to have made him feel good. 

Matty falls into me, resting his head on my breast. I envelop him in my arms, feeling the soft cotton of his t-shirt soaked through with sweat beneath my fingertips. We lay like that, breathing together heavily, until we both fall asleep without a word.

-

A few days later, the whole city is quiet. The people on the street don’t make any noise. The birds in the trees outside my windows open their mouths but no piercing tweet emerges. I watch everything around me as though in a silent film, guessing at what the actors could mean and want. Today is the day. My ears are ringing uncontrollably.

Today is the day that Matty is leaving.

It feels like the time has come without warning, even though I’ve been dreading this hour and minute for weeks. I keep telling myself not to worry because it’s not here yet, but that’s no longer true. Matty is in my bathroom. He stayed the night last night, tangled up in me. I brewed espresso this morning like usual, without a word. We drank it in bed and for once I didn’t complain when he spilled on Nina’s sheets. I just smiled. Angry breath would be wasted on him today. Besides, a stain would be something to remember him by.

Matty emerges, wiping his hands on his sweatpants and ambling over to me. He stands cautiously in front of me. He knows he’s about to hurt me and he doesn’t want to. He made it clear from the start, he never wanted to.

I grab his middle suddenly, unable to stand being away from him any longer. Unable to stand the awkwardness of the pain we have to cause each other. It’s an inevitable. Like a meteor on its course, we were always going to reach this destination. It was unspoken, but it was better that way. I have to believe it was better that way. 

I can smell him. How long will it be until I can smell him again? I preemt the tears by speaking.

“Call me if you’re ever in New York,” I say with my cheek to his linen shirt. There’s a warmth radiating from him that calms me even though I’m anxious for him to leave. I know it will be hard.

“You know I will, baby.” His voice reverberates through the flesh of his chest and the thin fabric of his shirt. I can feel his voice touching me. He hooks his fingers under my chin, easing my face towards his. “You’re always gonna be my good girl, yeah?”

I nod because it’s all I can do. I know it’s not true but it feels so good to pretend for a second that it is. That we’re meant to be together and we’ll always be thinking about the other, even when we get old and we’re married or have kids. 

He ruffles my hair and walks out the front door. I watch his curls bob through the window of the villa as he descends the hill for the final time this summer. I look around at my surroundings, the empty room that allows the faint sound of shrieks in from the pool outside.

I suppose I will keep him with me, in a way. He’ll always be the lover who hurt me the least. He never got the chance to give up on me. He never had to yell or cry to end our relationship, he just had to leave. We both had to. It was never really a choice.

Everything is still where it used to sing for him. The sheets will no longer ruffle, the coffee will stay un-drunk. He’s gone and it hurts so acutely. His absence is so heavy on my shoulders. 

And for the first time in my life, I know I can bear it.

[noodyl-blasstal]

Cool, Calm, and Collegiate ch 1

It's @blupjeansweek!! Lup's returning to IPRE summer school for the first time since she attended it as a kid. Some of her colleagues are pretty awful, but one of them... Well... He's very interesting.

Find here or on ao3

--

Lup [14:45]

Made it safe, don’t burn the plants down and remember to water the kitchen.

Taako [14:45]

Instructions unclear. Filling bath with mayonnaise.

Lup [14:46]

You’re the worst <3

Taako [14:47]

Stop texting me and go teach kids space magic or whatever.

Lup [14:48]

You need to know I’m flipping you off right now.

Taako [14:48]

Never doubted you for a second, now go do your thing. Be safe, don’t talk to dogs, pet a lot of strangers.

Lup [14:48]

<3

Taako [14:48]

<3

Lup double checks the instructions, then stows her phone in her pocket, adjusts her rucksack, and definitely doesn’t give herself a pep talk, she doesn’t need to, she’s Lup fuckin’ Taako. They’re lucky to have her. These kids are gonna know so many things about space and magic and no one’s gonna act like she doesn’t belong.

“Eward! It’ll mess up my hair!” A tall elf looks perturbed as Edward, (her twin? Judging by the fact they look like mirror images they have to be, plus, twin recognises twin) holds out a satchel bag.

“It’s your bag, Lydia, dear.” Edward, clearly an optimist, continues to hold it out.

“Can’t Harry get it?”

“Oh yes. I’m sure he can come and sort this out.” Edward makes a sweeping gesture to the ever growing pile of bags and cases the poor taxi driver is piling on the pavement.

“I’ll call him.” Lydia snaps open her clutch.

Lup’s transfixed by her acid green nails and the wildly impractical heels. Not to mention Edward’s wearing a short sleeved suit jacket with embroidered shorts that Taako would kill for… how rude is it to photograph strangers?

“Harry… yes… sure, whatever… uh huh… well you’ll be glad to know that we’re here… yes… so can you come be a darling and get our bags?... I’m not sure that Daddy would like to hear that you’re being so unfriendly on our very first day… Thank you so much darling, we’ll see you soon.” Lydia grimaces and slides the phone back into her bag and shakes her head at Edward. “Such poor service here.”

It takes everything in Lup not to say something. Sure, their fashion sense is glorious, but they’re a caricature of awful if this is how they treat people. Lup’s ready to swing on poor Harold’s behalf. Not to mention the taxi driver they definitely didn’t tip, just waved her off once she’d finished hauling their ridiculous bags out of the minivan.

“Oh there you are, Harry, we’re just over here. Don’t worry about not being out front to meet us.” Edward smiles broadly, as if he’s not aware of precisely how much of a dick he’s being.

Lup’s willing to wager he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Harry though, assuming that’s the guy in the blue jeans who just walked reluctantly out of the front of the building, doesn’t look so confident. “Uh. Hi Lydia, Edward.” He tugs at the sleeves of his white shirt, clearly uncomfortable.

“So good to see you again.” Lydia says without looking at him.

“This is everything.” Edward points, as if there were a chance Harry might have missed the small mountain of wealth piled at the side of the road.

“And you need me to, uh, get some luggage trolleys?” Harry, poor sweet Harry, asks.

“If that’s what you need to move them to our rooms.” Edward shrugs, already scrolling on his phone.

“Did you check us in?” Lydia asks.

“Er… the accommodation office is…” Harry starts.

“Oh darling, these heels aren’t made for walking, are you sure you can’t just bring us the keys and let us know where we’re going?” Lydia titters and flutters her eyelashes at him.

Lup sends a beam of strength to Harry. Don’t fall for it, my dude, make them do their own life admin. You’ve go this.

“The accommodation office is over there.” Harry points.

Yes! Go, Harry, get ‘em!

“But darling, how will you know where to take our bags if you don’t check us in?” Edward asks, not looking up from his phone.

Lup watches the fight drain out of him. He fought a good fight…

“I’ll go to the accommodation office, which is over there.” Harry bites out.

At least he’s not trying to pretend he’s not pissed off any more. This is most definitely and absolutely not his job, for sure. Lup was under no illusions when she took this role. Science educator at a Summer education programme was never going to pay well, but coming here set her on the path she’s on now, and the least she can do is give back (and be legally allowed to make explosions for educational purposes.)

“Hey, Harold, mind if I walk with you? I haven’t been to the accommodation office before.” Lup catches up to him quickly, closing the distance in a few long strides.

When he turns to look at her his face is sour. “Please, uh, just, there’s no need to keep doing it.”

“Doing what?” Lup tilts her head, but doesn’t break her step. “Cha’girl needs to find the accommodation office, and you look like you know what’s up. It’s Lup, by the way.” She stops abruptly and offers a hand.

Harry stops too, looks at her for a moment, sizing her up. Then he smiles. “Barry.” He says, shaking it.

“Oh hell no.” Lup can feel the flush of heat spreading across her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I just heard them say it and…”

“Yeah, well, they’re not always right.”

“Not often right, from what I’ve seen.” Lup mutters.

Barry laughs, once, sharp, perfect. “C’mon, I’ll show you the office.”

“Thanks Barry!”

His smile is glorious.

–

“I’ll help.”

“It’s fine.” Barry huffs as he tries to work out whether it’s better to wheel two suitcases at once in front or behind. “You’ve got your own stuff and you need to get settled.”

“Cha’girl has a single hiking bag because she’s not a complete maniac.” Lup rolls her eyes. “Plus, they’ll just complain if you leave anything on the side while you drop the first lot to their room.” She grimaces so Barry knows how wrong she thinks they are.

“You, uh, well, can’t argue with that.” Barry shrugs. Then adds, softly. “Thank you.”

Lup bumps his shoulder with hers. “Lup’s got you.”

She ends up with her rucksack, three bags on each arm, and the hair-mussing satchel (hair completely intact because she’s capable of operating a strap, thank you very much.) Barry wields two cases with his meat hands, and one with his mage hand. Lup copied him to get the last of the cases.

“How do people even have this much stuff?” Barry asks while they wait for the lift.

“Dedication? Perseverance?” Lup nudges him with her elbow, hands blessedly free as she’s laid the bags down to wait for the world’s slowest lift. “How much did you pack?”

“I didn’t have to, I live just off campus, uh, the street behind the student accommodation.”

“Oooh, happy accident that the job came up and you lived nearby?”

“Well, I… you know… work here. It’s new. But I said I’d help with the, er, the programme.” Barry looks embarrassed about this fact.

Lup raises her eyebrow. “I thought you said you were Barry?”

“I am.”

“They didn’t mention a Barry on any of the forms.” Lup knows for sure because she googled the fuck out of everyone and everything about the programme when she found out she got an interview.

“I’m not sure they put me on the letters or the websites or, well, uh, that stuff… plus, it’d by a different name.” He pauses. “It’s a long story.”

Lup points at the cheerful lift floor light which is currently still stuck on 19. “We’ve got time, my guy.” She’s going to go rogue and hack into the computers to fix it if this school is deadnaming him or something.

“Okay, it’s not really a long story, but I’m not on the forms because I help unofficially, and Barry isn’t my government name.”

“Okay?”

“I prefer Barry.”

“Barry Bluejeans.” Lup points at his denim-clad legs.

“Why not?”

“Do you not want them to use your other name?”

“No no, it’s fine, it’s just for, you know, business. It’s what’s on my office door, it’s Sildar.”

“I never thought I’d know two! Sildar! Elf King of the Forest, Thirteenth of his Line…” Lup swishes her imaginary cloak and laughs gently. “Destroyer of…”

She stops, Barry looks stunned. Shit. Maybe he was more sensitive about his name than he made it sound. She’d fallen into a comfortable pattern. Lup closes the distance between them. “Oh, my dude, sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, that’s an…”

“...In joke.” Barry finishes for her. Then draws himself up to a majestic height and swishes his own cloak. “Destroyer of Ill Informed Zombies.” He’s smiling.

“Hallwinter?”

“Tacco?”

“Barry?”

“Lup?”

“What the fuck?” Lup swears she’s buffering, she’s usually not short of words, but this? What is she supposed to do with this? Sildar, in the flesh, not just a guy in a computer. “You’re real!”

Barry laughs. Hard.

Lup pokes him in the side.

“Ow!”

“Just checking.” She smiles her biggest smile.

He laughs again and it sets Lup off too. They’re still gasping for breath when the door the lift light finally blinks another floor down.

“Did the last email help?” Barry asks, pressing the lift button again, as if that’ll help.

“Yeah! The way you explained it made a lot more sense than the textbook.”

“Cyrus.” Barry says like it’s a particularly awful curse word, and shrugs dismissively.

“So you have roughly three thousand degrees?” Lup asks.

“No!” Barry protests quickly.

“Uh huh. Have you forgotten how many you have?”

“It’s only four PhDs. It’s fine. Erm… Look! The lift’s moving.” Barry points enthusiastically at the blinking light which shows a whole floor’s worth of progress.

“You can’t distract me from the fact I’m with academic royalty right now.”

“I’m not academic royalty!” Barry looks offended at the very thought.

Lup just wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh Sildar, can’t I please have your autograph?”

“Lup!” Barry looks genuinely distressed enough that she decides it’s time to stop bullying him.

“So what’s the best meal on the canteen rotation? I figure you’ve been here a little bit? You said you were moving in your email last month, right?”

Barry’s discomfort fades immediately. “So they make this mac and cheese with asparagus in it and the summer school kids hate it because it’s got green bits so they always give you extra. I figure it’ll be different once the students are back, but uh, I guess you’ll be gone then?”

Lup shrugs. “Gotta wait on the post docs to get back to me, but my cheese yen thanks you for the baller tip! What else you got for cha’girl? I’m gonna plumb your depths.”

There’s a long moment. Lup dares Barry to double her entendre. He thinks about it, she can tell, but he doesn’t. She’s not disappointed exactly… but.

By the time the lift finally arrives Lup knows where the quiet libraries are, has a few routes for her morning runs, and, most importantly, knows where to get the good coffee (The Davey Lamp Cafe or Barry’s office. She’s inclined to try the latter first, because Barry has good taste, obviously, no other reason.)

“Okay, tetris time!” Lup zoops the mage hand suitcase into the lift, Barry shoves his in close behind.

“Do you think we can do this?”

“Cha’girl has better things to do than wait another 84 years for the lift, Barold, prepare to get cosy.”

Lup shoos him in with the suitcases next.

“Okay, if I put the bags on top of the cases, and then…” Lup scooches into the, admittedly small, gap next to Barry. “Is this okay?”

“Uh, yeah, fine… er.. Good… I mean… Yeah.”

“Do you want me to get the next one?”

“No! No. I mean, this is okay.” Barry’s swaying very slightly, Lup’s pressed against his side, so sways with him.

“They’re floor 26, right?” Lup asks.

“Oh, fuck, hang on.” Barry lunges towards the buttons. “Yeah, there we go.”

The lift grinds slowly upwards.

“So why IPRE? I imagine everyone was clamouring to get their hands on you?” Lup wiggles her eyebrows and Barry flushes bright pink.

“Well, uh, you know… I really liked their er… ethos?” Barry starts tentatively.

“Funding?”

Barry laughs, relieved. “Yeah, that. They have plenty of funding available. Plus, they seemed interested in letting me, you know, work on some of my own stuff.”

“Bonds?” Lup hisses quietly, as if anyone could hear over the slow grinding noise of The World’s Shittest Lift.

Barry nods and his face lights up. “You remembered?”

“Hard to forget when someone’s so passionate about something, Barold.”

“It’s also closer to Mum.”

“Of course. How is Marlena?”

“Still raving about the cookies you sent. She said they were as baller as you promised, and that you’d promised you would only send them to her so I had to come visit if I wanted to try them.”

“Who am I, but a girl who is willing to engage in cookie crime to help a Mum out.”

“I visit her!”

“I know.” Lup nods, he’s talked a lot about wishing he was closer, especially as she gets older.

“Now I can go more.” Barry adds.

“You sure can, I’d better look at the recipe book.” Lup winks at him.

–

“Leave them here.” Lup shrugs. “You’ve done your bit.”

Barry dithers, and knocks again. “I don’t know why they went ahead of me to get the key when they specifically asked me to check them in.”

“Weird power play.”

“Really?”

“Definitely, I’ve met their sort before. Just leave their stuff here, don’t hang around waiting. You’re the guy, they’re nothing in the scheme of research. This is absolutely not your problem.”

“Yeah. Yeah…” Barry keeps his hands on the cases.

“Barold?” Lup takes his arm gently to pull him away.

Barry twitches slightly, like he’s about to pull his arm back, there’s a moment where Lup worries that she’s gone too far. Sure they’ve sent some emails, they joked in the lift, but this is Sildar Halwinter, Magic Science guy. He wrote the textbooks, or should have, he’s got the cutting edge papers… He’s not just a cute nerd for Lup to boss about. Thankfully though, he relaxes, lets himself be tugged away towards the lift.

“Yeah. You’re right. I’ve given them enough of my time.”

“Yes! That’s the spirit.” Lup punches the air. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Which floor are you?”

“3.” Lup says. “I don’t have fancy parental connections to get the good view.

“Well, at least you’re in luck if the lift goes out.” Barry says wrly.

“You truly are a genius, Dr Hallwinter.” Lup nods cheekily.

Barry throws her a sideways glance, and smiles. There’s no blush this time, maybe he’s easing into it.

This time, they stand slightly further apart in the lift.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Barry asks. He sounds like he means it.

Lup wants to say yes immediately. There’s absolutely nothing she can think of that Barry can do for her right now, but she likes hanging out with him. He’s fun to talk to online, and more fun in person, if just for the immediacy… also she gets to look at his face. Er… she means… shit.

“I’m not sure I need a hand with my bag, but you’re welcome to come check out the digs if you want?” She realises too late that it sounds like she’s propositioning him. ‘Come look at my room’, she may as well ask the guy in for coffee.

“I’ve actually already surveyed the rooms, so I’ll let you get settled, but if you decide you want coffee before the staff briefing this evening then stop by my flat, I’m heading home for a few hours.” Barry smiles warmly.

Uh… did Barold just uno reverse her? Bam! Proposition me will you? Here’s one right back! No, no way, he probably just means coffee. Would she go if she thought he didn’t just mean coffee?... Nope, stop! Bad line of thinking. He’s being kind, it’s generous. They’re friends! She’ll see.

“Cool, I’ll get settled, write a postcard, then maybe head over when I go to post it?”

The lift dings to announce its arrival at the third floor. “No pressure, I’ll see you later, Lup.”

–

Hey Ko’

I know you’re gonna roll your eyes, but you’re getting postcards, just like we wrote to Tia back in the day. Today was fine. Those twins I messaged about are fucking awful (that’s right, I can swear in these now, when you’re the teachers no one checks!) they kept calling this guy Harry, turns out his name’s Barry. Barry Bluejeans (well, not officially the last bit, but he was wearing them, so sue me.) They made him carry their bags, so obviously I helped, and we got talking and I was all “he’s really cool. No idea why they’re so mean to him”. Anyway, anyway, turns out his Government name isn’t Barry. It’s Sildar fucking Halwinter! That one, yeah. So I guess my pen pal is my person pal for the next 8 weeks… I’m gonna make the most of it, I just need to figure out which questions to ask.

Anyway, I’m running out of postcard space, but it’s all pretty similar to how it was, the room’s slightly nicer, only one bed and a private bathroom (thank every god going, I’ll never forgive Greg Grimaldis his bathroom crimes), but it’s still student digs.

Love you always,

Lup xxxxx

---

Thank you for reading! Find chapter 2 here.

[the-hidden-posts-gt]

Sunny & Gideon (Part 1)

Borrower short story (turning into a series) based on a dream I had where the Giant and Tiny switch bodies (Part 1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Sidebar 1 | Part 4 (WIP)

Sunshine/Sunny (yeah that’s their name, it was sunny the day they were born and their mom was just like, “yeah, that makes sense, definitely!” 😅) is 5”/~13cm, average height by borrower standards. They have brown hair, with a tiny -not so tiny- patch, bleached slightly lighter than the rest of their hair (Gideon is messy with his hair dye/bleach, and somehow it always gets everywhere. Sunny was not spared.) They have hazel colored eyes, thick brown eyebrows, crooked nose, and an ovular face.

Gideon/G/Giddy(when Sunny wants to mess with him) is a 5’10”, kind of a lanky guy, with purple hair (he dyed it), and thin blonde/light-brown eyebrows. He doesn’t look well rest, ever. He has green-blue eyes, his nose is surprisingly button-shaped, (Idk why, but that’s the description that made itself available in my head) and his face is kinda diamond shaped. (Not sure if that is handsome, but he is supposed to be kind of handsome, just underslept.)

POV Sunny

When I opened my eyes, he wasn’t there. The dizziness had subsided, but where was he?! I needed to find him. He was too big to just vanish. He was human after all. I heard my pulse roar in my ears. Why is it so loud? My breaths were shallow, but also too much.

I heard a door open and close and I saw Gideon’s roommate. He could help. Fighting my instincts, I stood up from the couch. Why are my limbs so bulky? As he walked into the kitchenette I rushed over to him. My legs felt weighted and slow, and yet I surged forward.

“Where’s Gideon?!” My instincts urged me once more to hide from this Bean, but I needed Gideon. I needed to find him! I need to know he’s alright! Gideon had said his roommate was kind. I just hope Gideon was right.

“Dude,” the roommate smiled, far too nonchalant for an emergency. “How high are you right now?”

I blinked, taken aback. This was not the reaction I was expecting. What does that even mean? My surprise taking over instead of the panic, and I was able to really tale in my surroundings.

I am taller than him. I am taller than G’s roommate. I looked around, the room was smaller, everything was smaller than I remembered it. It was honestly claustrophobic, like the walls had squeezed in on me. Everything was … my size, I guess.

My eyes found their way back to my hands, only to realize, these aren’t my hands.

The roommate just smiled, taking a step towards me and patting my (is it mine?) elbow. “Oh yeah, you have fun with that,” he said as he guided me back to the couch where I’d been sitting. I let myself be lead, now staring at the arms attached to me, they were familiar, just … not mine.

As I was sitting down, the couch squeaked, no shrieked. I felt my pulse quicken, as the body’s instincts took over, and I was suddenly standing back up faster than I thought possible. I know that sound? No. This body knew that sound.

“You good, man?”

I didn’t respond. I just slowly picked up the pillow I’d almost crushed. I peered down at the couch, careful not to let the roommate see what I suspected was there, but that didn’t prepare me for seeing my own face staring back at me.

POV Gideon

Light blinded me, as the entire space shook, I had been unceremoniously tossed into a dark and stuffy prison, where there was a bunch of panicked mumbling, and then something had just attempted to crush me. Now there’s an earthquake. Great! I thought sarcastically, before I attempted to steady myself against the wall behind me, as I held up my hand trying to block out the light and possibly understand why my world was suddenly shaken.

Instead of usable answers, I saw a shock of purple hair, before realizing I was staring at a giant version of my face. It stared down at me with eyebrows raised high. I didn’t even know they could reach that part of my forehead.

There was no respite from the chaos, however, as I was hastily snatched up into giant hands. I rapidly went from free, to shooting into the air clasped surprisingly gently within giant hands the size of me, to between two cupped hands, like I’d been caught by a kid who wanted to show a critter to their friends.

“Ugh.” My stomach was not a fan of all this jostling.

“Sorry!” My voice whispered down at me, before we slowed down enough for me to get my barrings. This must be what Sunny feels like all the time. My heart stopped, before speeding up again, to twice the speed. Where is Sunny?! If When I get out of this, I need to find them. I just need to survive whatever giant me is up to.

***

Part 2

That’s it for now. I like these two enough that I’ll probably end up writing about them a lot, so idk stay tuned? 🤷

[jaggedhorseteeth]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 2

MASTERLIST

word count: 2700

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drinking, language, arguing, insults, mentions of violence, mentions of sex, drunk creeps harassing women in bars

Over the course of the next few months, Jake and I grew closer than I ever imagined we would. We had our separate lives, giving each other plenty of space so as to not smother ourselves, but lately we had been spending more and more time together. He was attentive- we talked daily, and I was getting used to the ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ texts. Since coming to Tennessee, I hadn’t had much time to explore but he remedied that, and we experienced what Nashville had to offer together.

It felt as though we never ran out of things to talk about, and we were constantly learning new things about each other. I loved that we never let the banter die down; having fun with him, joking around, pushing each other’s buttons, it all came naturally. His laughter made me feel like I was home.

Oh, he was always a perfect gentleman, careful not to overstep any boundaries, but when the time came (pretty early on if I’m being honest), the sex was phenomenal. It was full of fire and passion, and usually ended with us both so fucked out we couldn’t form actual sentences. There was a perfect balance of sensuality and roughness, being given and received on both ends. I was more than happy to let him take control, to exert that dominance that made my knees tremble and lit a fire in my gut. But being with him, exploring each other, made me realize that occasionally, I quite enjoyed reversing those roles. More than once he got on his knees and begged me to give him release. And damn, he sure was pretty like that.

The first time he brought me around to meet his brothers, there was almost an immediate connection. I really enjoyed their company and for the most part, they treated me like I had been a part of the group forever. Josh was slightly standoffish at first, but he was always kind. His personality was so different from Jake’s, but the unmistakable link between them was surreal. Sam was a goofball, always making everyone laugh. I pretended I didn’t notice the way he watched Daniel like he was the most precious person on the planet.

Even Richie was starting to warm up to Jake. I was thankful they, at the very least, had one thing in common when they could bond over guitars. The occasional grumble from Richie when Jake would flirt in front of him became less threatening, and more of something we would laugh about later.

Jake was able to witness my excitement firsthand when Richie and I finished restoring the Gretsch. He was just as fascinated when I opened the case, now cleaned and restored as well, to show it off. I watched his eyes light up at the sight of it.

The 1957 6-string electric guitar had all new hardware, including two single-coil pickups and a Bigsby vibrato tailpiece. Jake examined the wood, astonished at how smooth it all looked, like it was brand new. “It’s got a chambered mahogany body and neck, a maple top, and the fretboard is rosewood,” Richie explained, clearly proud of our work. I was especially proud of the finish, in a dark Cadillac green. Jake carefully ran his fingers along the neck, examining all the details like he was trying to memorize it. Judging from the way he looked at it, I’d bet if it didn’t already have a buyer, he would have been first in line.

With how smoothly everything was going, it figured that we would hit a road bump soon. And we did, when we had our first actual argument.

We were at a local bar with the guys, having a good time drinking and chatting, and generally shooting the shit. I made my way to the bar for another drink, Jake absorbed in conversation with Daniel. While I waited for my drink, I felt the approach of the stranger before I saw him. I didn’t turn to look at him until he spoke.

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing buying her own drinks? Your man not taking good enough care of you?”

I rolled my eyes and ignored him. First chance to take the hint and back off, buddy.

“C’mon, don’t be like that, gorgeous. Let me buy you a drink, and later I can show you how a real man oughta treat you.”

“I’m not interested. Beat it.” Second chance.

He closed the distance between us until I could feel and smell his disgusting breath on me. Give me just one reason, please. I was preparing to defend myself if it came down to it, as I’d unfortunately done many times before. There was never any fear, just annoyance at this guy’s utter audacity. If there was one thing that I was thankful for from my father, was his insistence on me learning how to fight.

I heard the man chuckle as he took his third and final chance before I got to the part about kicking his ass. “You sure about that, sweetheart? I think you-“

“Don’t fucking touch her.” Everything happened so fast, I barely had time to register Jake forcing himself in between myself and the stranger and shoving the man backwards. “Back the fuck off, asshole.”

The guy shook his head, deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble. “Fucking crazy,” he mumbled, disappearing into a group of patrons. I can’t say I wasn’t grateful; I had never seen Jake fight so I wasn’t sure how things would have gone on that front if that man decided to fight back. But I sure was livid.

Jake turned to me. “Are you oka-“

“What the fuck was that?”

The confusion on his face was clear but did nothing to quell my own irritation.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Jacob. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you serious? Pardon me for trying to protect my girlfriend-“

“I don’t need your fucking protection!” I’m sure we had turned a few heads by then. I let out an exasperated sigh and marched past him, towards the exit. He followed closely, continuously trying to argue his point.

“That creep was fucking harassing you.”

“There will always be creeps in bars harassing me! I had it under control.”

“Yeah? And what if he got physical with you? Got violent? Then what? I was just supposed to let him hurt you?” He was still hot on my heels when we made it outside, the cool air a welcome change from the stuffy bar.

“Then I’d get violent right back. I know how to protect myself; I don’t need a man to do it for me!” I’m sure I was yelling at this point, but I couldn’t be bothered to care.

“You really think you’d be able to fend off someone that’s twice your size?”

“I’ve done it before! I’m not a fucking damsel in distress, Jake. I wasn’t raised like that. I’m not afraid of some pathetic, drunk asshole who isn’t even capable of walking straight!”

“Well maybe you should be! I get that you want to play the ‘I’m a badass and don’t need help’ card, but you don’t have to be stupid and reckless!”

I scoffed. “Oh, I’m stupid and reckless because I didn’t come crying to my boyfriend to save me from the mean ole’ frat boy trying to buy me a drink? I’m not the one that was trying to start a fight in a crowded bar. How do I know you wouldn’t have gotten your ass kicked?”

“I was trying to help you; don’t you see that? But fine, I guess I’ll just go fuck myself for trying to be chivalrous!”

“What you’re being is a pain in the ass.” I’ll be the first to admit I was stubborn as a mule often, when the situation called for it, but I could recognize when it was time to walk away. We were both heated for our own reasons, and I didn’t see anything happening other than the situation escalating. I was seeing red, and the more he talked the worse it got. “I’m gonna go.”

“No, Kya, wait-“ He made like he was going to reach out and touch me. Sighing, I put my hands up and stepped back.

“Jake, right now I need some space, and we both need to cool off. Go back inside, enjoy the rest of your night. We can talk tomorrow.”

He rubbed his hand over his face in frustration, but he didn’t argue. He had a dejected look on his face that tugged on my heartstrings. I wasn’t enjoying this, and I hated making him feel bad, but needed to understand this about me if we were going to make our relationship work. I refused to let anyone walk all over me, whether it be a stranger or my own boyfriend. I was sure we would talk later, and I could nip the issue in the bud and hope we could move past it.

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered sadly as I walked away from the man I definitely did not want to walk away from.

~

I still wasn’t feeling good about the whole incident when I walked into the shop early the next morning. I should have known Richie would notice right off the bat.

“Why do you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios? Do I need to kill someone?”

I sighed. “I’m fine. Jake and I got into an argument last night, is all.”

He raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes back and forth like he was thinking. “So, I can kill him? ‘Cause I gladly-“

“Shut up,” I chuckled. “You’re not killing anyone. I’m sure we’ll talk it out later.”

“Ugh, fine. You wanna talk about it?”

Throughout my life, I could always rely on Richie to have my back for almost everything. He was the parent that I did have, the one I could open up to without fear of judgement or being brushed off. So I explained what had transpired and what was said during the argument, how I chose to distance myself, and how shitty it made me feel to walk away from Jake.

“Ah, shit. You love that fucker, don’t you?”

I groaned at his forward, but very true, assumption, bringing my head down to meet my arm on the counter. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably?”

He patted my shoulder. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“He just made me so mad last night!”

“And I’m sure it won’t be the last time. Hell, you’re bound to piss him off plenty, too. Doesn’t mean it ain’t right. It’ll be hard sometimes but you’re tough, and if you love him, you’ll work through it.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“Ha, I’ve always been wise, young grasshopper. Now, listen up.” He lowered his voice, putting on a more serious tone. “You’ve always been bullheaded. You’re the most stubborn but one of the strongest people I know. You’ve been through some shit that toughened you up and made you into who you are now. The world you were brought up in, you needed to be tough to survive. That’s why your dad and I made sure you could protect yourself and taught you push back fear. And it’s great; it means I don’t really have to worry about you. Now, I don’t know him all that well, but I think it’s safe to assume Jacob didn’t grow up in a world like that. If I had to guess, he probably has a mom who raised him right, and raised him to be a man who, drumroll please, protects his woman. I know you ain’t used to that, but I bet he ain’t used to having a woman he doesn’t need to protect. He intervened ‘cause he cares about you.”

He was right. I knew that. I felt like such an asshole. I treated Jake badly and he didn’t deserve that. “This is where you tell me that I’ve got to learn to compromise, huh?”

“Let him take care of you, Kya.”

As if on cue, my phone buzzed. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Jake <3 – 8:13 AM

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Can we talk?

-

I’m sorry, too. I can come over after work. If you’ll have me.

-

Jake <3 – 8:15 AM

Of course. I’ll make dinner.

I smiled at his offer. He was still willing to go out of his way and put forth an effort, even after our argument. It made me feel better and gave me a little hope that I hadn’t completely fucked everything up.

It was about 6:30 PM by the time I pulled into his driveway. I swallowed my nerves, walked up to the house and knocked on the door. Why the hell am I even nervous?

It didn’t take him long to answer, greeting me with that sweet smile of his. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, a few stray hairs peeking out, and he had a dish towel draped over his shoulder. “Hey.” He stepped to the side, allowing me to cross the threshold, and shut the door behind me.

“It smells really good in here.” He demonstrated early in our relationship that he was an excellent cook, and he really enjoyed it. He always jumped at an opportunity to cook for other people. I wondered if it would have been his calling if not for the music.

He grinned. “Thanks. It’s Bolognese. Uh, it’s got to simmer for another ten or fifteen minutes, but it’ll be ready soon. Do you… want a drink? You know, since you never got the one you ordered at the bar last night?”

I furrowed my brow. “Shit, you’re right. I forgot about that drink.” I noticed him fidgeting with his fingers, picking at the cuticles. He’s nervous, too. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pulled him to me so I could plant a kiss on his lips. “I’ll take you up on that drink. Surprise me.” I smiled sweetly at him, the interaction seeming to calm both our nerves.

He brought me a glass of Amaretto on ice. “My favorite. Suck up.”

Laughing, he retorted, “Babe, I’ll gladly suck up to you however I can, whenever you want me to.”

“I’m not complaining.” Rubbing my thumb across the glass, I averted my gaze to my lap. “I’m sorry about last night, Jake. I know you had good intentions, and I overreacted. I don’t want to make excuses, it’s just not something I’ve had a lot of experience with, someone standing up for me like that. I had to learn how to fend for myself when I was really young. It’s not an easy mindset to break. But it doesn’t give me the right to act like a bitch.”

Jake leaned back on the couch and tilted his head back. “If I’m being honest, I think I was jealous.” He drew in a deep breath. “I saw that guy practically breathing down your neck and it pissed me the fuck off. He had no right to be that close to my girl, you know? But you were right, you had it under control. I shouldn’t have gotten involved like that. And I don’t think you’re stupid or reckless. That was really shitty of me to say. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

Finishing off my drink, I placed the glass on the table and leaned into him. His arm landed across my shoulders, and I rested my head on his chest. “Of course I forgive you. I hope you can forgive me, too. I just need you to trust me, let me do my thing. If you can promise me that you’ll try, I promise to try to let you do your thing, too. To let you take care of me.”

He pulled me into a tight hug and kissed the top of my head. “I can definitely do that.” The beeping of a kitchen timer rang through the room. “C’mon, baby, let’s eat.”

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 5

(Frenemies/Tenderness AU) FIVE: The Meat You Feed On

SIMON GHOST RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: Simon is having some issue with your secretive behavior, his suspicions and jealousy pushing him to show up unexpectedly at your flat one night. 

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, bit of angst, jealousy, possessive behavior, No use of Y/N, Simon is a simp, and so is reader, idiots in love, but too stubborn to admit it.

(Notes: I’ll always see Simon as a possessive personality. The poor man revels in Reader’s attention, so thinking it’s being focused on someone else... bothers him. Jealousy is not necessarily healthy for a relationship, but this is all new for the big guy, and feelings are hard, okay?)

 [gif via tenor] 

Word Count: 3121

Chapter 5

-

“O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.”

― William Shakespeare, Othello

“You can only be jealous of someone who has something you think you ought to have yourself.”

― Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale

-.

Simon wanted to know where the hell you were going.

To make ends meet, you worked six days a week at the pub, taking one day off. On that one day, you disappeared. Where you went, he had no idea. He only knew that you left early in the morning and didn’t return until late in the evening, usually well after dark. You had done this for as long as he’d known you, but it was only of late it had begun to eat at him.

You never spoke of these little excursions you took outside of the village, never said where you went or what you did. He had tried to ferret the intel out of you, bringing it up every now and then during conversation, but you would simply not answer or change the subject. Even early on in your friendship, this stuck in his craw a little bit, but he always deferred to respecting your privacy. You stayed out of his business when he made it clear he didn’t want to talk about something, so he gave you the same respect, but now...

It was driving him bloody mad.

Perhaps it wouldn’t bother him so much if you didn’t always look so utterly spent when you returned home. It wasn’t just mental weariness; you were physically exhausted, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you were seeing someone. What if you had a partner, a lover who was— he gritted his teeth— doing this to you.

He didn’t like thinking about it, shouldn’t be thinking about it— it was none of his bloody business, but he couldn’t help it. The truth of it was he hated seeing you in such a state, knowing he had nothing to do with it.

You looked that way, right now, peeking around the open door of your flat. His hands clenched into fists and his jaw creaked as he ground his teeth. He stood there on your threshold, staring down at you as you peered up at him, a bone-tired expression on your face. “Riley. Did you just get back?”

It was times like this that he wished you hadn’t opened the door at the pub that night, because you’d opened something up inside him as well, and not everything that came crawling out of him was nice. Something dark and cold was curling in his chest, leaving a bitter taste at the back of his throat. It fed venom to that thought that had been swirling in his head all day long. Where the fuck had you been and who the hell were you with?

“Got back this mornin’. Came by earlier but you weren’t here,” he replied, tilting his head. “Ya goin’ t’invite me in ‘r not?”

You blinked, lids drooping in slow motion before fluttering up again. You were dead on your feet. “Oh. Yeah, of course. Sorry,” you mumbled, shuffling aside. “C’mon in.”

Simon stepped inside, glancing around. He’d never been inside your flat before. It was little more than a cracker box, and a shite one, at that, but it was clean and tidy, and very much you.

There were a lot of bookshelves and houseplants. His eyes went a little wide at the sight. Every bit of free space had a shelf of some sort crammed in it and then that was crammed full of books. There were large colorful art prints and old movie posters in cheap frames that caught his eye, odd little knickknacks, little framed photos of family and friends tucked onto shelves and set about the room. There was the lingering smell of food in the air that made his stomach growl. 

“Mind takin’ off your boots?” you asked.

Simon turned his head to stare after you as you stepped into your tiny kitchen, then glanced down at his booted feet. Sodden tracks littered the clean tiles. He bent and unlaced them, toeing them off before setting them beside your own shoes on the small mat you kept by the door. He noticed how small your shoes looked next to his and for some reason he felt his chest grow warm and tight.

“Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll make you a cuppa, yeah?”

“Yeah. Sure.” His eyes travelled over your form, noting the lounge pants with fat, white cartoon cats overlaying a textile pattern of hot pink and black plaid. Your shirt was a ratty looking band tee with AC/DC’s Highway to Hell album cover printed on it, faded and cracking from multiple washes. Black and pink fuzzy socks covered your feet. You must have taken a shower when you got home, because your hair hung loose and damp, face scrubbed free of makeup. You looked... good this way.

Padding through the small living area, he took a seat on your couch and groaned as he sank into the cushions. Pulling a throw pillow out from the corner to settle back into the seat better, he tucked it between his thigh and the arm of the couch. It smelled faintly of the perfume you wore.

He could picture you curled up here, head on the pillow, that fluffy blanket at the other end of the couch tucked around you while you read or watched the telly. He eyed your entertainment setup next, noticing how small your little flatscreen was. He had a monitor that was about the same size. Your DVD collection put his to shame, though. He leaned forward and tilted his head to study the titles.

“You can borrow any of those you like,” you said, rounding the couch with an arm outstretched, a steaming mug in your hand.

He nodded his thanks, watching as you settled back with your own mug at the other end of the couch. You sipped it with your eyes closed, humming before setting the mug down on the coffee table in front of you. Turning slightly, you gave him a once over, something he noticed you did now when he returned from deployment.

“You weren’t gone so long this time. That’s good, right?”

Simon grunted. He had been gone for ten days, a quick in-and-out to retrieve a hostage from a safehouse in Switzerland. Bad intel resulted in an ambush instead of an extraction. No one had made it out unscathed. The stitches in his shoulder began to itch. “Depends on how ya look at it.”

You gave him a querulous expression but knew better than to probe for more information. Riley never talked about his missions, his ‘ops’, as he and Ollie called them. “Have you eaten? I’ve got some left—”

“Where were you all day?”

Your mouth hung open, caught off guard by his sudden inquiry. “I had some errands outside of the village,” you replied, purposefully vague.

“Must’a been a hell of an errand. Yer bloody exhausted,” he persisted, eyeing you. “An’ it took ya all day, too.” Your confused little frown prompted him to add, “Came by earlier tonight. Ya still weren’t ‘ome yet.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, drawing your knees up closer to your chest as you pushed yourself back into the corner of the couch. You averted your gaze and shrugged. “It’s no big deal. All the travelling, I suppose. The bus, the train ride. It tires me out.” You shook your head and picked up the remote, holding it out to him. “Here. Find something to watch. I’m going to go heat up the leftovers for you.”

He took it from your hand, trying not to glare at you in frustration. Not your bloody business, he reminded himself. “Ya don’t gotta do that, Dee. Just— rest,” he muttered, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the questions in his mouth from tumbling out.

“It’s no problem,” you said, moving to get up, but he stopped you with a growl.

“Jus’ bloody leave it,” he groused. “Ya ain’t m’damn mum.”

He could see hurt flash in your eyes before that little scowl appeared. Scoffing, you sneered at him. “Fine, ya grumpy arsehole.”

Simon seethed for a few minutes, then gave up. “Ya don’t gotta feed me every time ya see me, Dee.”

You slanted a mean, narrow look at him. “I’ve seen how you grocery shop, remember? Protein bars and a pack of Stella’s is not sustenance. Neither is eating takeaway every other meal.”

He threw his head back on the cushion, staring up at the cracked ceiling. Bloody hell this place was a dump. You deserved better than this. He blew out a tired sigh. “Fine. If it’ll stop yer naggin’, I’ll eat.”

Your smile was instant and smug. “Good,” you said, rising from the couch. “Now, find something to watch,” you said, pointing at the telly.

“Need to use the loo, first. Ya mind?”

“‘Course not,” you said over your shoulder, pointing at your bedroom door. “Through my room. Door’s open.”

Simon stood and circled the couch, casting a quick glance over you before entering your room. He slowed his steps on entry. He was walking through your inner sanctum, your most personal space. It was tiny with little room for more than the twin bed, nightstand and chest of drawers, another small flat screen sitting atop it. He paused when he glanced down at your nightstand, spotting a framed photo. Darting a quick glimpse over his shoulder, he picked it up to study it.

The picture had been taken at the pub. You were standing behind the bar, leaning on an elbow as you talked to... him. He was in the photo as well. There was a brief moment of panic, but considering the angle, it had to have been taken by someone else behind the bar, so it was taken either by Ollie or Fiona, probably Fiona. Ollie knew better.

He examined the photo closely. He was seated in his usual spot, arms resting on the bar, an empty tumbler and a book lying between you. You were looking at each other, an amused little smile on your face. What struck him was how he was looking at you. He had tilted his head, his eyes focused on you like you were the only person in the room, then realized that’s usually how it felt, too. You always had been a bloody distraction. He shook his head.

He startled when he heard you close the microwave and quickly set the picture back the way he found it, hurrying on silent feet into your bathroom.

It was about the size of a postage stamp, barely enough room for him to move. He shut the door behind him, then huddled over the toilet, arm pressed against the wall as he relieved himself. He noticed the toilet was leaking and frowned as he washed his hands. He’d ask you about it, offer to fix it. The faucet in the shower stall was dripping as well. He reached in to try to tighten the knob, but it was no use. He then took your shampoo off the little formed ledge and sniffed it. It smelled nice, sweet and floral, like you.

Not wanting to linger any longer, he made his way back to the main living area, but you motioned for him to sit at the counter instead. “Just in time,” you said, sliding a plate towards him. “I’ll go sit and watch some telly, so you can eat in peace.” 

You laid a fork and knife by the plate with a sheet of kitchen roll for a napkin. Simon looked down as you drew your hand away, his own darting out to catch your wrist and pull your hand closer to get a better look at it.

“Bloody hell, Dee,” he muttered, looking at the raw, red patches and peeling skin. “What the fuck did ya do to yer hands?”

You shrugged, trying to pull it back. “It’s nothing. They get like this, sometimes. Probably something in the cleaning products I use, most likely. I wear gloves, but I seem to always end up with my hands soaked at some point.”

He held on, skimming a thumb over the irritated skin. “You should tell Ol the stuff he uses at the pub is fuckin’ up yer skin.”

You gave him an odd look then offered a reluctant nod. “Yeah. Guess I should.” You dropped your gaze to the plate of food in front of him. “Go ahead and eat,” you reminded him softly, taking your hand back.

You came around the counter and walked behind him, your steps taking you back to the small sitting area. He heard the telly turn on and snippets of sound erupted as you began flipping through the channels. He chanced a peek over his shoulder, seeing only the crown of your head poking up above the back of the couch. You stopped flipping channels, settling on some old black and white movie. He turned back around and looked at his plate.

It was simple fare— bangers and mash, but it was one of his favorite dishes. The steam rising from the plate smelled heavenly and his stomach rumbled in protest. Tugging his balaclava up to his nose, he picked up the knife and fork and dug in. The first bite made his eyes slide shut as he savored the taste. It was so bloody good, reminding him of his childhood, of his mum. She used to make the same dish. Nostalgia, bittersweet, overtook his thoughts as memories of sitting at the dinner table with his mum and Tommy took up his headspace.

Eventually, his attention began to drift. He found himself listening to the voices on the telly, the volume kept low in consideration of your neighbors. His eyes wandered over the small kitchen before him.

The counter was scarred and chipped but scrubbed clean, like the rest of the kitchen. Old enamel and scratched chrome gleamed under the glow of the overhead light. You had a collection of herbs in the window, a collection of cookbooks on top of the fridge, and a collection of smaller appliances pushed back against the wall below the cupboards. He couldn’t even guess what the majority of them were for.

He looked down at his empty plate then back around the small kitchen. You should be cooking in a big, fully stocked kitchen worthy of your skills, he thought. He turned in his seat to look around the rest of the flat. As shabby as the place itself was, you still made it feel warm and inviting; you made it a home. He couldn’t help but wonder what you could do with a place like his row house, but then that thought segued into a darker thought.

Did you do this for whoever you went to see on your days off? Did you cook for him, too? Did you clean his flat for him while you were there? Was that why your hands were in such bad shape? He was certain whoever the sorry wanker was, he didn’t appreciate it enough. If he did, you wouldn’t be living here. He should be taking better care of you.

The need to discover where you went and who you were seeing was eating him alive, and now he was more determined than ever to find out. He wouldn’t be able to let it go until he did.

Taking his dirty dishes to the sink, he quickly washed them and left them to dry in the rack, then went back to join you on the couch. When he came around, he looked down at you and then paused. You’d fallen asleep, your head lying against your shoulder. A tube of topical cream was lying in your lap, something you had used to treat your hands, which laid atop the blanket, still red and raw looking. It pissed him off to see you this way, but he choked it down and swallowed it to sour in his gut with your food.

He needed to go. He didn’t want to lash out at you again because he was angry at the useless sod you were apparently seeing. Perhaps he needed to find this bastard and have a word with him. It would probably piss you off to no end, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t let this stand. He should be treating you far better, and Simon was more than happy to inform him of that fact. You were his friend, and he would do everything in his power to look after you.

That was the excuse he went with as he decided to follow you on your next outing. Mind made up, he slipped his boots back on and readied himself to leave.

“Doll,” he murmured, giving your shoulder a gentle shake.

Your eyes blinked open and you sat up. You looked about, confused for a moment before peering up at him with a sleepy expression that made his heart beat funny in his chest. “Sorry, Ri. Must’ve dozed off.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, love. You need to go to bed. I’m headin’ home.”

You nodded, standing to see him to the door. You paused, turning back to look behind you. “Oh, did you want to pick out some movies or a book or something?”

Simon smiled beneath his mask. “’S alright, doll. How ‘bout I bring you home tomorrow after work an’ pick out something then, yeah?”

Your eyes went a little wide, a little smile forming. “Yeah, that will be fine. I could make us dinner, too. Feed you an actual hot meal instead of reheated leftovers,” you offered.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow. G’night.”

“Good night, Ri. Be careful driving home.”

He gave you a nod and turned to leave, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t forget to lock your door.”

“Will do!” you called after him, that little smile still lingering as you watched him disappear from sight.

Locking up, as promised, you went to bed thinking about what you were going to make him for dinner the next evening. You gazed at the photo by your bedside until you drifted back to sleep.

-

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Squish Game: Ch. 1-3 (Patreon Preview)

DISCLAIMER: This Patreon exclusive series contains diaper usage, hypnosis, pants wetting, mental regression, masturbation/diaper sex, sissification, bondage, violence, strong language, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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PROLOGUE

Sweat dripped down Aaron’s forehead as he kept his legs locked. He’d taken a number of stupid bets over the years, but this one was certainly something. In the room with him were eleven other adults, each with the exact same goal that he had.

To keep their diapers clean...

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

It all started at the race track, where much of Aaron’s misfortune often originated. With a scrap of paper clutched in his hands, he hung his head low as the horse he’d bet on blew a staggering lead.

And with that, Aaron was completely out of money. With nothing in his bank account and his credit cards maxed out, he was flat broke. And he knew he needed to get out of town as quickly as he could. He stood up to make his exit but was instantly stopped by two muscular dudes in black suits. He gulped, hoping whatever misery he was about to be put through would, at the very least, be swift.

The two men escorted Aaron through a series of dingy corridors that descended underneath the race track. He could feel his heart beating in his throat. He didn’t know what was better, to try and make a break for it now, or to be patient and see if he could find an opening later. Craning his head back, he knew he was no match for the two beefy boys who kept his walking pace brisk. Besides, squirming his way out of hairy situations was one of his best, if not one of his only, skills. His patience was an asset he couldn’t afford to lose.

The three men finally arrived at a set of double doors where two more Greek gods were standing by. Dutifully, the men grabbed their respective door handles and ushered Aaron and his escorts into the grand space.

Despite the crummy-looking hallways, Aaron was shocked to find a decadent and sophisticated space. And at the center of it was Talin, a man Aaron owed a lot of money to, along with several other well-dressed, rich white guys. Talin raised his glass towards Aaron, “Welcome Aaron, my boy. My friends and I were just talking about you.” said Talin, snapping his fingers. The bodyguards responded, grabbing Aaron’s arm and forcing him down to his knees directly in front of one of the most powerful bosses in all of LA. The intimidating, middle-aged man rested a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, “Listen, my boy. I heard what happened, and that’s a bitter loss. But a loss is a loss, all the same. Now, you and I both know you can’t pay off all that green.”

Aaron felt as though he might start crying. The kind tone Talin was taking did nothing to ease his nerves. He thought about trying to beg or argue but knew neither of those options would likely be fruitful. Instead, he looked him square in the eye and said, “No, I c-can’t.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but couldn’t help but stutter slightly. It was obvious he was scared, but at least he wouldn’t go out groveling.

Talin cackled, “See, I told you, boys, that he was a keeper. Loyal, honest-”

“Not lucky, though” interrupted one of the other gentlemen at the table to an abundance of laughter.

Aaron flushed, not happy to be mocked for his misfortune like this. He moved to stand up, but Talin rested a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down. He lowered his head. After betting the skin off his body for years, and it was time to pay the piper.

“Oh, Aaron, don’t look so down. And my friend here couldn’t be more wrong. Today is your lucky day in fact,” said Talin, causing Aaron’s ears to perk up, “I will not only forgive you of your entire outstanding debt, but you can also win both of us outrageous sums of money.”

The piper could wait another day. Aaron quickly spoke, “I’ll do it!”

The rich guys all laughed again, finding much humor and how desperate Aaron was. Talin, however, silenced them all by slamming his fist down on the table. He turned to glare at all of them, each one avoiding eye contact. He then turned to Aaron and smiled warmly, “That’s excellent, my boy. Now listen to me very carefully, the game you will be playing has a cost. If you win, you will be set for life. But, if you lose...your life will belong to someone else. Knowing this, do you still wish to proceed?

Aaron caught on to how purposefully vague Talin was being. Clearly, there was something more, if not life-threatening, that Talin was leaving out, but asking for him to elaborate was likely to be a non-starter. All he knew was that his refusal would mean his demise, so what choice did he really have? Uncertain, but determined to find a way out of this, he nodded his head.

“Boys, we have our champion,” announced Talin, causing quite the uproar of cheering from the poker table. He snapped his fingers again. The same two bodyguards came up and grabbed onto Aaron’s arms, lifting him up and leading him toward another corridor.

With how fast everything was coming at Aaron, his anxiety had shattered through the rooftop and was well on its way to the moon by this point. He turned back just before the door closed behind him, seeing Talin waving goodbye to him with a toothy grin.

Aaron was once again in the catacombs of the race track, as this hallway seemed almost grosser than the last. At least the walk wasn’t near as long. He promptly arrived at a dull pink door. Sounds of voices chatting and giggling could be heard through the door, all of them very feminine. One of the bodyguards knocked and three waited in awkward silence.

When the door opened, Aaron was greeted by a very large and voluptuous woman, who seemed nearly a full foot taller than him, despite the fact that he was over six feet tall. Despite the multiple muffled voices, she seemed to be the only one in the room. She smiled down at him with greedy, red eyes. Her lusciously painted lips parted, “Did you boys bring me a new toy to play with? Hmmm…” She grabbed Aaron’s hairless chin, turning his head back and forth. “She will do just fine.”

“She?” Aaron took a step back but could go no further with the two bodyguards boxing him in. They shoved him forward directly into the well-endowed woman and closed the door behind him. If he wanted to back out, it was already too late.

Looking at his new surroundings, Aaron was quickly overwhelmed by how pink and plush everything was. The wall and flooring were all fuzzy and pink. The only furniture in sight was a single armchair in the center of the room, perhaps the only thing that wasn’t pink, as it was instead black leather.

“Welcome, darling. My name is Ms. Blair Blankanship, but you will refer to me as Mistress. Is that understood?” said Mistress with an authoritative, yet radiant voice. Her words were like butter, smooth and creamy, entering Aaron’s ears in the most delightful way. And yet, her sultry voice had nothing on her body. If he wasn’t such a nervous wreck right now, the sight of her alone may have been enough to cause a boner. She was thicker than a snicker in the best of ways. And that said nothing about her wardrobe, with her tight black pencil skirt and silky white blouse with match paired perfectly with her blood-red lips.

Aaron was so entranced by the woman’s beauty that he completely forgot to answer her for several seconds, before muttering out, “Oh, um, yes!”

“Oh my, such a timid little thing. Don’t worry, after a week you’ll be just like all the other girls here,” said Mistress, giving him a coy smile. She grabbed him by the arm and brought him to the chair in the center of the room.

For the second time, Aaron had been dubbed the incorrect gender. This time, he spoke up, gesturing to his obviously male appearance, “Um, there seems to be a little confusion. I’m not a girl. I’m a b-”

*SMACK!*

Mistress’s hand collided with Aaron’s right cheek. The sound it made reverberated throughout the entire space. He had no time to recover before she grabbed onto his face again, much rougher than the last time, “You listen here, Arabella, and you listen well. Once you stepped through that door, the “b” word was erased from your vocabulary. Use it again in my presence and there will be severe consequences.”

Aaron sealed his lips shut. He never thought of himself as particularly obedient, but he couldn’t find it in him to stand up to his captors. Not wanting to find out what Mistress meant by “severe consequences,” he groveled, “I’m so sorry...M-Mistress.”

Returning to her neutral smile, Mistress eased Aaron back into the cushy chair. She then took his arms and tied them down, followed by his legs. Lastly, she grabbed his hair and pulled him back so that she could lock his neck in place, forcing him to stare straight forward. 

“Now,” Mistress whispered into his ear. Well, what do you know? It was possible to pop a boner under immense stress. Her teeth clicked as she continued, ��I want you to be a big brave girl and keep your eyes nice and wide.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, before taking her leave. As she walked through the same door he’d entered through, she pulled a remote from her pocket and pressed the big red button that had been lovingly placed in its center, “I’ll see you when you wake up, cutie.”

The furry pink wall in front of Aaron began to rise, revealing itself to be a curtain instead. Stationed behind it was a large, empty glass orb perched on a pedestal so it was perfectly at eye level.

Aaron pulled against the restraints, finding them much too secure to be muscled out of. He was well and truly trapped. Defying Mistress’s words, he closed his eyes.

Meanwhile, as the curtain reached the ceiling, the glass orb began to fill with a glowing pink gas. The lights around the room dimmed down, causing the smoke to shine even brighter. As the glass container finished filling, the magenta haze began to spin in a clockwise pattern. The centrifugal force of the spinning smoke generated an undeniable heat, much like a lightbulb would. It was a mesmerizing sight had Aaron’s eyes been open.

“Aaron, you’re making Mistress very sad when you don’t listen to her orders,” Mistress’s voice came through a speaker embedded in the chair, “Don’t you want to make Mistress happy? It feels so good to make Mistress happy. All you have to do is open your eyes, and then Mistress can show you just how happy I can make you feel.”

Aaron could feel his resolve waning. Something was off about this whole thing, but it wasn’t like he was going anywhere. Plus, the last thing he needed was to piss this woman off and lose his chance of absolving his debt. He clenched his fist and unclenched his eyes, allowing them to gaze at the pink spectacle.

It was beautiful, radiant, and bold. The color felt so...uniquely feminine. Was this what being a girl felt like? It was so warm and inviting and friendly. He felt like he could watch the smoke turn in that glass case for hours.

In fact, Aaron was so captivated by the glowing pink fog that he had absolutely no idea how much time was passing. Seconds turned into minutes turned into hours with no differentiation between them. His consciousness was so locked that he didn’t realize when he started to wet his pants, soaking his jeans, as well as the leather seat, in his fresh urine. And with the way the clock was moving, it was as if no time had passed when he felt himself go again, and again. After a few instigated accidents, his wetting problem turned into a messing one, as he began to ruin his pants in a far more embarrassing way.

However, in spite of the raging humiliation he should’ve been feeling, he hadn’t even noticed anything wrong. His mind was so deep in trance that nothing, not even a kick to the groin, would pull him out of it.

The speakers came to life again, with Mistress’s silky smooth voice ringing in Aaron’s ears once more, “You’ve done so well, Arabella. Your Mistress is so proud of you.”

Aaron could feel a bizarre sense of gratification from Mistress’s praise. He cooed and moaned, feeling himself growing aroused by her unyielding approbation. “Go ahead and reward yourself sweetie, and once you’re done, you will fall into a deep, deep sleep.”

“R-reward myself?” said Aaron, his voice monotone, despite how excited he was to be earning a reward so soon. He was clamoring to know what it would be. Suddenly, his arm restraints were freed, but not his legs, causing even more confusion.

“Go on, pleasure yourself to my voice, Arabella. Let my words bring you to a climax.”

That was all Aaron needed to hear. His hands instantly closed in on his urine-drenched pants. He didn’t bother with unbuckling his belt or removing his pants, instead choosing to unzip the hole in his jeans to pull his dick through. With only piss to lubricate, he furiously masturbated as his Mistress continued to speak in his ear.

“That’s right. Very good. You’re so big. Much too big to be my little sissy. Don’t worry, we’re gonna change all of that after you are fast asleep. Won’t that be nice?” “Yes!” shouted Aaron, as he was mounting toward a climax unlike anything he’d ever felt before. And it was all for her. For Mistress. For his Mistress. Thinking those words only added to the euphoria that was wrecking his body. His hands and feet were twitching with ecstasy.

Letting out a high-pitched, feral squeal, Aaron ejaculated, sending several helpings of gooey sperm onto the floor. However, unlike his normal orgasms, this one didn’t seem to be dying down. His penis kept spitting out spunk at an alarming rate. He clawed against the leather seat and thrust his hips in the air as his balls emptied out completely. He collapsed in his messy pants, fully drained of both energy and cum.

As Aaron started to drift off following his life-changing climax, he fell back against the chair and zoned out like a complete space cadet, not that he minded. Mistress was so satisfied with him and that thought made his heart flutter. He couldn’t wait to bring her even greater joy in the future.

As the curtain shuttered, so did Aaron’s eyes, ushering him into a deep sleep. Mistress, along with three other women, entered once the room was accessible again from a secret entrance hidden behind a different curtain. All of them giggled viciously. One of the girls, Elissa, nudged Mistress, “It’s not fair, Blair Bear! Why do you always get the cute ones?”

“Yeah,” said Deborah, Elissa’s loyal minion. She sniffed the air and covered her nose in an exaggerated manner, “Woof! And he’s a messy one too! I can never make their pants brown on the first try!”

The third girl, Miley, ran up and hugged Mistress, “Oh shush, Debby! You’re just jealous that Ms. Blair is just that good.”

“What did you say?” asked Deborah in a threatening voice.

Mistress stepped in between all of them, breaking up a fight in the making. “Girls, girls, this is not the time to be caddy with each other. Arabella here makes twelve,” she said, the other girl’s faces lighting up with anticipation. She smirked, her lips curling into an evil smile, “Looks like we’re ready for the games to begin.”

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ROUND 1, PART 1

The dimmed fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling of a large room powered on fully, their harsh light designed to pierce the sleeping eyelids of those under its heavy beams.

Aaron’s eyes cracked open. He instantly rolled to his side to take cover from the blinding light, barely registering the fact that he was unable to close his thighs together. He didn’t care, he just wanted to go back to sleep...wait...why couldn’t close his legs?

Aaron’s eyes opened once more, only this time he was aided by his accelerated heartbeat, which was thumping like a bass drum. His hands slowly shifted beneath the sheets. It was only when he made contact with the bulky plastic surrounding his pelvis that he noticed the pink bars that lined the mattress he was lying in. Putting two and two together, there was only one possible answer.

Sitting up and ripping the plush blankets off of himself, Aaron was horrified to find that his only attire was an enormous white diaper and a t-shirt. The pink and white baseball shirt fit him comfortably and had the number “12” written on its front and back. He instantly moved to rip the diaper off, but as he did, he suddenly stopped. He wanted to take it off, he really did. But, something in his brain wouldn’t let him.

Looking around the room, Aaron saw he wasn’t alone in this predicament. Set up in a circle were eleven other cribs with other men and women inside, each dressed identically to how he was, only the numbers on their shirts ranged from 1 to 11. He opened his mouth to speak, “Heya! Hewwo-”

Aaron stopped talking, in utter disbelief at the sounds that came out of his mouth. He tested his voice again, “Whas appenin...whas wong wit ma voish?!” No matter what he did or what way he held his jaw, he couldn’t get anything to come out of his mouth without a babyish speaking affect. 

Several others in the room turned to look at him, each with varying degrees of empathy and apathy. One girl in the crib next to Aaron with the number “11” written on her shirt took pity on him. “Ish nod jus you. We don kno-wa whas goin on,” she said, blushing at the adorable kiddy lisp she was forced to speak with.

Suddenly, a loud alarm not unlike a school bell rang throughout the room. The last two people who were asleep were startled awake by the noise. Simultaneously, the bars of all twelve cribs descended. Yet, once the cribs were all the way open, no one dared move a muscle.

Aaron looked back and forth around the room, confused as to why no one wanted to be the first to leave. He decided to make the first move, scooting himself toward the edge and hopping down to the plushy, foam-covered floor. Everyone else in the room gasped as if waiting for something bad to happen.

Quickly scanning the room, Aaron discovered finally allowing himself to get a better sense of his surroundings. Scattered all throughout the room were items and furniture pieces that one would usually find in a nursery. Combined with the crib and diaper he woke up in, it wasn’t a very far-fetched assessment, no matter how bizarre it was that a baby nursery was scaled up for adults.

As Aaron searched, he could only find one exit in the form of the large door that lined one wall of the nursery. Without thinking, he rushed over to the oversized entryway, waddling a bit with each step. It took a few seconds to get the hang of, but it wasn’t all that hard to move. He remembered his days in football, wearing bulky, padded clothing and bending his knees to balance his center.

The giant metal door was painted sky blue with white, clouds scattered across it. There was no handle or lever or anything. All Aaron could do was bang at the door and hope someone would be able to hear, “Hewwo!!!! Hewp ush!!!!”

One by one, the others stood up, each working on their own methods of finding an escape. Some joined Aaron at the door, with the idea of creating as much noise as possible. A few others started feeling around the walls, looking for a secret door or passage. Only Eleven stayed seated while everyone tried to escape.

After getting exhausted from banging on the door, Aaron turned his attention to the lone girl still inside her crib. She was small and petite with large eyes. Compared to his oafish appearance, she looked far cuter in her diaper than he did, though it wasn’t likely she should appreciate that sentiment. “Hey,” he said, leaning against the bars of her crib, “We cood use yo hewp ta-”

“I’b fine, tank you,” said Eleven, keeping her eyes trained on the door as if waiting for someone. Timidly, her eyes darted over to Aaron, looking him up and down. She sighed and muttered quietly, “An if you smart, you wiww ged back in da cwib.”

Aaron was more than a little puzzled by the girl’s response, but he got the hint. She had zero interest in talking to anyone. He looked to his crib, considering what the girl had told him, and then back towards the door, which might as well have been another wall with how unlikely they were to get it open. Regardless, he couldn’t justify sitting and waiting for help. To hell with hiding in the crib. He was going to get out of here.

However, just as Aaron was about to return to the metal door, another alarm went off, freezing everybody in place. The door slowly began to rise, forcing anyone nearby to back up. Standing on the other side with enormous smirks on their faces were 12 tall, gorgeous women, one of whom was the woman Aaron only knew as Mistress. Behind the girls was a team of slightly shorter women dressed in nurse’s uniforms.

The tallest of all the women stepped forward from the group and peered around at all the diaper babies. “Well, ladies, it looks to me like we have a lot of troublemakers who should know better than to leave their cribs on their own,” she said with an authoritative voice. She then walked up to the man with a “1” on his back and picked him up with ease. The other ladies followed suit, going after their various Littles.

“Aww, such a good baby! Mommy knew she made the right choice when she found you,” said the woman who was lifting Eleven out of her crib, “No punishment for you!”

P-Punishment?! Aaron did not like the sound of that. Since he hadn’t seen Mistress come to get him yet, he quickly ran over to his crib with the intention of jumping inside, hoping that no one noticed his sly maneuver. Sadly, just as he was climbing back in, he felt a hand on his shoulder, followed shortly by an eerily familiar voice, “It’s lovely to see you again, Aaron.”

All at once, Aaron felt his heart dissolve. He had no idea how to explain it, but Mistress’s voice and touch brought him such euphoric levels of joy. Meanwhile, his conscious brain actively fought against these invading thoughts. He slowly turned to make eye contact with the fiercely intimidating woman. She looked around at all of the other women who were far too busy with their own babies to worry about what she was up to. She pressed her finger to her lips, signaling Aaron to stay quiet as she lifted him up and cooed, “Hehe! I knew you’d make Mistress so proud by staying in your crib! Looks like there will be no punishment for you!”

Aaron breathed a sigh of relief. He hated to admit it, but it wasn’t just his physical body that was in Mistress’s hands, it was his entire life. He needed to trust her for now. At least she appeared moderately on his side by getting him out of punishment. He looked to all the other women, who were forming a single-file line in front of a small, pop-up table set out by the nurses.

Mistress walked over to stand out of line with her “good baby,” allowing Aaron to see exactly what the punishment was. It was a hardy serving of castor oil. He felt his gag reflex kick in out of sympathy, thankful he didn’t have to stomach what ten of his fellow prisoners did. 

Still, thinking about the others reminded him that there was one other person who had managed to avoid punishment. Aaron craned his neck to look at Eleven, watching as her caretaker bounced the diaper-clad girl in her arms and babbled baby talk to her in her ear. How did she know to stay in the crib? While he and the others were clueless, she seemed to have advanced knowledge of what was going to happen.

Aaron’s musings were cut off as the final dose of castor oil was handed out. The lead woman once again returned to the mic, wearing a far warmer smile than before, “Hello everyone, my name is Dom, and these are my lovely Mistresses. For most of you, you have not experienced what happens to those who act out, who misbehave, or who disobey. In order to win, you must prove you’re the most mature baby in this room, and ten of you are not off to great starts.

“Win?” muttered Aaron, before realizing that idle thought was not silent. He instantly covered his mouth when he realized he’d managed to draw Dom’s attention. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he prayed he would not have to endure her wrath due to his small outburst.

Luckily, Dom only giggled at his one-worded question. “Yes, number 12, that is correct. You all were brought here for one reason. To play our game and to win,” she said, before turning her attention back to everyone else, “All of you have debts that you cannot pay off. Your lives before entering this room were already forfeit. That’s why we want to give you either the chance for redemption or at least the chance to start anew. The winner of this game will receive a handsome reward. Your debts will be paid off in full. Additionally, you will receive twelve million dollars to restart your life with, one million for every player in this room.

Audible gasps echoed throughout the room. Aaron couldn’t believe his ears. All he had to do was win some stupid game and he’d finally get out from under his gambling debt? It was almost too good to be true. It was definitely no trick though, as she soon brought forth a briefcase, opening it to show off the potential winnings.

Dom, however, was nowhere near finished with her speech. She smirked as continued, knowing she already held these penniless babies by the balls, “For the eleven of you who fail to win, you will be given a brand new life as a newborn baby slave. You will never be allowed to return to your old lives again. You will instead remain in this facility until someone purchases you, either for personal use or to be auctioned. At which point, you will have been perfectly trained to be the most obedient and adorable baby girl that you can be.”

The excitement in the room quickly died down. Aaron could feel his heart racing. He’d played with some serious stakes before, but this was something else. None of that mattered right now, though. The thought of what awaited him if he tried to refuse to play had far worse odds than 1 in 12.

Smiling, Dom finished her announcement, “Welcome to this year’s Squish Game!”

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

ROUND 1, PART 2

“Welcome to this year’s Squish Game! We’re excited to have you with us! You’re assigned Mistresses will now prepare you for the first round of the game. And I know you will all do your best to be good, obedient Littles!” With her finishing words, Dom and her Mistresses got to work. Aaron’s Mistress picked him up and carried him over to one of the twelve changing tables. His was clearly marked with a big 12 written in pink numbers that perfectly matched his shirt.

Mistress propped Aaron up onto the table, taking a deep breath, “Okay, Aaron, I know this is going to sound weird...but you need to use your diaper.”

“I’b sowwy...w-whad?” stuttered Aaron, pretending not to be certain what Mistress had just said to him. In actuality, he knew exactly what she’d asked him to do. She wanted him to...he didn’t even want to think about it.

And Mistress was no fool. She could see by his expression how apprehensive her request made him. She placed her hands on his shoulders. “This is it, Aaron. This is the only change you’re gonna get until the end of the round. The last thing you want right now is to have anything inside of you.”

Aaron looked down at his diaper, dreading every second of this as he motioned for Mistress to lift him off of the table. “Sho, whas da gamb? Ho-wa do I win?” he asked, hoping to have some motivation for what he was about to do.

Mistress could only shake her head in response, “I’m sorry, Aaron. I’ve probably already said too much.” She placed her arms on two corners of the changing table and looked away.

It took Aaron a second to realize what she was doing. She was giving him as much privacy as she could to do his business. Glancing at the other teams, they all appeared to be doing something similar. Despite how grim a lot of this shit was, at least the Mistresses didn’t seem overtly cruel, with one glaring exception. Dom had her Little squatting on top of the changing table, barking at him to fill his pampers, much to his humiliation. The poor dude kept looking around the room at everyone frantically, his eyes begging for others to turn away. 

Aaron was happy to oblige, knowing he had his own problems to worry about. He bent his knees a bit more to get into a squatting position. He squinted his eyes, assuming after decades of potty training that his body wouldn’t be able to get anything out. Much to his shock, his body instantly started to pee like nothing was wrong. He stopped, recoiling from how easy it was to let go.

Mistress giggled at his reaction, “Did Aaron already forget? We had such a lovely introductory session too. You’ll find it’s not very hard to get past all those pesky mental hurdles so you can use your diaper whenever you want!”

Needless to say, Aaron wasn’t exactly thrilled by this development, but at least it made it easier for him to use his diaper when he needed to. He sighed and let himself resume his urination. He blushed hard as his diaper grew moist and yellow, which unfortunately wasn’t the only thing that was hard. Inside his progressively swelling pampers was an unexplainable erection that seemed to very much enjoy the squishy confines of his diaper. He pressed against himself to stuff his stiffy between his legs, but the diaper was far too thick to pull off that maneuver. All he ended up doing was fondling himself, which only served to turn him on even more.

*PFFFFFFFF!*

“Eeep!” yelped Aaron as he farted loudly for all in the room to hear. His stream once again stopped, though at least he’d managed to nearly empty his bladder. He now had a new problem. He had to poop. It wasn’t desperate yet, but given an hour or so, it could be.

Covering her mouth to stifle her laughter, Mistress did her best to be respectful in spite of Aaron’s comical reaction. “Sounds like someone needs to go number two!” She patted him on the back, knowing her affirmation would make him feel better thanks to the triggers that had been planted in his brain.

Defying the warm feeling in his heart from Mistress’s gentle pats, Aaron shook his head no. Peeing himself was one thing, but he’d be damned if he was going to shit himself.

Mistress, however, had other ideas. She placed her arms around his waist, pulling him close and whispering into his ear, “Hehe! Sorry, Aaron. You’ll thank me later.”

Aaron had no time to react before Mistress crushed his tummy within her tightening hug. He squirmed as the newly applied pressure sent new, confusing signals throughout his body. Normally, he’d have no problem holding his composure from a heavy embrace, but for some reason, it was like his sphincter had been activated by the aggressive mama bear hug he was receiving. He clinched with everything he had, but it was no use. His eyes went wide.

*BLOOOOOOOOOORRRRT*

Unable to form any words, Aaron could only mumble out incoherent babble as he filled his diaper with almost no control. Even worse was the strange reaction that the mushy mess was having on his body. It felt like he got even harder after muddying his butt. He hated the way it oozed around in the back of his nappy...so why did it turn him on so goddamn much?!

Mistress was quick to notice this phenomenon occurring and decided to take matters into her own hands. She carefully grabbed onto the front of his diaper, slowly encircling the padding around his phallus. “Uh oh, looks like widdwe Aaron is getting all excited,” she said as she began to pump her hand up and down.

Aaron’s knees went weak. He couldn’t find it in him to fight back. It felt too good to want it to stop. Any thought of how disgusted he should be was replaced in less than a millisecond by the overwhelming pleasure he was experiencing. An ungodly screech escaped his lips as he unloaded his spunk into his nappy, playing right into Mistress’s hand.

As Aaron jizzed in his pampers, Mistress pressed her other hand into the back of his diaper, smushing his own filth against his backside. This was her cherry on top. She wanted to make sure that Aaron associated his wonderful climax with the messy diaper he was stuck in. She spoke into his ear, “Oh wow, I’ve never had a sissy baby so eager before! Did Mistress do a good job?”

“Ahhh...uh-huh..” was all Aaron could muster the strength to say. He rested his weight into Mistress’s arms, feeling oddly content. He could get used to-NO! “Gah...wha...did I-”

A cruel snicker sent chills throughout Aaron’s spine as Mistress lifted his noodle-like body onto the table. “From now on, you’ll find that, after a climax, your mind and body are as loose and docile as a newborn baby. You must have a strong will to break through the mental effects so quickly,” she said, complimenting his resiliency.

Aaron couldn’t care less about the flattery at this present. He would’ve been scowling had his eyes not been so droopy. If only it were just his eyes. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to will his body to move whatsoever. It was like he was completely paralyzed. “Wha...c-can’d I...mobe…” he mumbled, still panting heavily.

“Because you’re under hypnotic trance, silly billy. Remember?” said Mistress, sweetly, yet coldly at the same time. She chuckled, “I just told you mere minutes ago. Maybe I gave your baby brains too much credit.”

Blushing, Aaron couldn’t believe a form of hypnosis was so strong that it could disable his body at will. And yet, his immovable limbs were all the evidence he needed to prove the contrary.

With no warning, Mistress leaned down and kissed him on the lips. His body convulsed filled with ecstasy and adrenaline, as her plush lips consumed him. She giggled at the admiration that coursed through his entire body. She couldn’t get enough of her sweet, helpless victims losing themselves to her touch. That was all it took to send Aaron’s mind back down, leaving him perfectly pliant.

Grabbing his ankles, Mistress unfastened Aaron’s diaper tapes, removing his wet, messy, and sticky diaper. Part of her wanted to tease him about it, but she knew he wouldn’t comprehend a word she said right now anyway. She wiped him down thoroughly, gaining intense satisfaction at the reaction she could still get out of him.

Despite cumming buckets into his fluffy diaper, Aaron was already back at full attention. He wasn’t aware, but increased sperm production was just another influence of the trance he was under. His balls were already looking plump again, a good sign that his body was adapting well to its new conditions.

Having had to go last in sissy baby selection was new for Mistress, so she was a tad concerned his body wouldn’t have enough time to incubate. Lo and behold, she may have lucked her way into her most subby baby yet.

Mistress placed a clean diaper under Aaron’s butt and wasted no time slathering him up with baby lotion and coating his privates and backside with powder. She made sure not to stroke him too much. She’d already let him cum once and she didn’t want to spoil him before he even made it through the first round. It almost felt like a form of self-deprivation, though, since she would’ve loved nothing more than to waste the rest of her day making him ejaculate over and over again. Instead, she restrained her inner desires as she smothered his throbbing member underneath the soft, plushy diaper front.

Looking around at how the others were progressing, Mistress was pleased to see that only she and Dom had yet to finish pleasuring and changing their Littles. Another advantage she had over her competition. Leaning in close to Aaron’s ear, she whispered, “Okay Aaron, pay attention. In a few minutes, I’m going to be escorting you into the game room. You will have to compete to stay in the game. If you lose, you’ll never get to see Mistress again, so make sure you do your best! I don’t know what the first game will be, but my advice is to be cautious and let others be the first to make mistakes. You’ll also want to keep...

Aaron did his best to keep up, but Mistress was talking a mile a minute. Still, he didn’t want her to think he wasn’t paying attention, so he put all of his energy into nodding along with every word she said.

*RRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGG!!!*

The school bell alarm sounded off again, alerting the Mistresses that their time was up. Several ladies were still taping their babies into their diapers while simultaneously lifting them up and rushing toward the exit. But not Aaron’s Mistress. She was cool and confident as she raised her well-prepared baby up to her chest, nuzzling his head in the crux of her neck.

“I hope you’re ready, Aaron, because the game is about to begin.”

TO BE CONTINUED...

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

Heyyo! If you enjoyed this preview, consider subscribing to my Patreon! All 8 parts of Squish Game: Round 1 are available for members of my Patreon’s $3 tier and higher at patreon.com/crissiebaby.

Edited by AllySmolShork

[mutable-manifestation]

The Heart of the Matter Ch. 6

Chapter 1 (Parts 1-3), Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

So this took forever. The whole ‘hey dude ur dead btw’ convo fought me something fierce. I deleted like three versions. RIP

***

As soon as they clear the ground into open air, Danny flies them - invisible and intangible - straight to the heart of Gotham.

He could more than likely make it to the Fenton portal fast enough to avoid being traced beyond ‘somewhere in Illinois,’ but the point of running isn’t to escape.

He wants the Green Lantern to follow.

He isn’t sure about Batman and his allies, isn’t sure where he stands on the Anti-Ecto Acts or if he even knows they exist, given the GIW’s relentless efforts to keep what happened - what still sometimes happens - in Amity Park buried.

He’s less sure after seeing the surety with which they almost sent Jason away to….

He shakes his head.

If they could be convinced to help, all the better. If they truly cared for Jason they’d do a good enough job beating themselves up over it later.

Not that he wouldn’t still be sending them Jazz’s way to have a talk about respecting boundaries in non-emergency situations rather than steamrolling them just because an ally or friend sounds like they know what they’re doing.

But before all of that, he wants a chance to get Jason up to speed first.

And to get some ecto in the guy, but given the way his core feels, the betrayal-fest he just phased in on, and his somehow near-complete lack of knowledge about what he is, he doubts he’s going to just accept eating mysterious, neon, glowing sludge without an explanation.

He zips through a Malmart and snags a large hoodie and sweats - he’ll pay them back later - and ends the flight by landing them in the bathroom of a crowded coffee shop.

No one should notice the two of them appearing out of nowhere when there are so many other people to draw attention, and hopefully the crowd will deter the Lantern - and the Bats - from causing a scene.

Or at least, a scene beyond the one that would already be caused by their mere presence in the place.

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

Jason only takes his eyes off of Jordan when he’s jostled from a sudden drop. He looks up just in time to see batarangs sink into the wall just above space-ice-crown-guy’s head.

He follows their trajectory back to see Damian unsheathing his blades.

Nightwing and Black Bat are already airborne, and lunging towards them.

A strange sensation washes over him. Crown-guy doesn’t move this time, unbothered by the swinging limbs and grasping hands headed their way.

The pair pass right through them as if they aren’t even there.

Jason feels betrayed and furious and wrung out all at once; he just wants to leave.

And then they do, horrifying green baseball bat close behind as crown guy throws them straight at the ceiling.

They sink into-and-through the earth, and they’re in the sky far above the manor before Jason even has a chance to do more than take a shaky breath.

Then they’re heading for Gotham.

Wayne Manor is twelve miles from the city’s border.

They’re in the heart of Old Gotham inside two minutes - after stopping by an Upper West Side Malmart to…steal clothing?

He’d be concerned about Red Hood being seen flying around with some random meta - about being too much of an easy target in the open air, flying in a mostly straight line - but the two of them are barely visibly, mere outlines of twisted space, like the distorted air above the heat of a flame.

He can barely make himself out, and the people they paused right next to in the store had appeared to notice even less.

When they do stop, it’s in the bathroom of a crowded coffee shop that is - frankly miraculously - blessedly empty.

Crown guy gently but swiftly sets him on his feet - hand on his shoulder just until he’s steady - and shoves the stolen clothing into his chest with a simple ‘here’ before Jason has a chance to say anything.

Then a ring of light appears around his waist, splitting to slide both up and down like some kind of scanner.

Where it goes, crown guy changes.

His build, his facial structure, the cut of his hair - all the broad strokes stay the same. What changes are the details.

Lazarus green eyes are replaced by a vibrant blue that better matches the now-absent crown - it still feels a bit cool, standing near him, but he’s not sure he’d have noticed if he wasn’t looking for it.

Impossibly white hair becomes a deep black - now matching the unchanged eyebrows - and the ears curve where they’d once been pointed.

His skin is paler like this - like he’d spent most of his life indoors, hiding away from the sun - the freckles now a light tan. As though the colors had traded places.

He lands lightly on his feet as the transformation ends, standing just slightly shorter than Jason now that they’re on even ground, and his physique is lithe but muscular; a swimmer’s build.

His clothes are the starkest difference, in Jason’s opinion: otherworldly fabrics and colors swapped out for simple blue jeans and a contrastingly dark red shirt and shoes.

No sign of the cape.

No hint of that otherworldly glow.

Unless you count the sparkle in his eyes as he raises a pointed brow and coughs.

Jason mentally berates himself for staring so obviously. He knew how to be more subtle than that.

Outwardly, he points to his mask.

“Great plan with the clothes, no-more-crown-guy, but they won’t exactly cover this.”

The guy just smiles and shakes his head.

“It’s Danny,” he snorts. “And you can just shove the mask in a pocket or something. I already know who you are, Jason Todd.”

The guy - Danny - snaps his hands up in surrender the moment Jason reaches for one of his guns.

“Easy,” he says, voice still relaxed. Soothing. The aura of strength-safety-protection-calm unchanged. “You being Red Hood is none of my business. I’m not here for Red Hood, I’m here for Jason.”

“What, need an inside scoop for the next article on ‘Watching the Waynes?’ Or is this a ransom thing?” he sneers, hand firmly on his gun as he closes the distance to loom threateningly.

For all that he’s glad to be out of the batcave, that doesn’t mean this guy is an ally; he won’t be swayed by some meta emotional manipulation. Bringing them to such a crowded location could be as much a threat as it could a reassurance, given the knowledge of his vigilante nature - a building full of eyes to make Jason feel better?

Or a building full of hostages?

“No,” Danny denies calmly, matter-of-factly, expression unworried despite the sudden decrease in personal space. “Someone told me you were in danger, and I could help you, so I did. I can also help you with the fact that you’re starving-”

“I’m not-”

“-and I can tell you why you’re so scared of Green Lantern.”

Jason is very willing to hear him out at that. Maybe he shouldn't be. He wants to stay suspicious; he will stay cautious.

But....

He has to know.

He has to know what's going on before it drives him crazy.

Crazier, if you ask his 'family.'

And doesn't that just burn? How quick they'd been to ignore his feelings when he didn't have any concrete information to back them up. How it hadn't taken more than a promise of maybe help for them to trust Green Latern.

Help with something he'd already gotten mostly under control.

He knows it scared them; how much he'd changed when he came back. How long he'd spent letting his anger take the driver's seat.

But he died. And then he came back to find his killer was walking around fresh as a fucking daisy. Jason was entitled to a little anger, in his own humble opinion.

Maybe he'd gone a bit far, but things had finally started going back to normal. He'd almost started to forgive them for not avenging him. For replacing him. They'd even started working together again, more and more often with every passing day. Jason had worked on reigning in his anger instead of letting it take the reigns, controlling the Pit Rage instead of sinking into it.

It was a hard transition to make; hate cradles you, as they say. But he tried.

Maybe he had some relapses occasionally, some outbursts here and there, but he was making progress.

But they had been willing to throw him at the mercy of someone that terrified him for reasons he didn't understand the second they offered maybe a 'solution' to his 'green little problem.'

As if it wasn't mostly 'solved' already.

As if they hadn't been working on it for years now.

As if he wasn't capable of making his own damn decisions.

Mind made up, he takes breath, takes a step back, glances at the door - which he very quickly locks when he realizes how much they’ve been playing with fire - and drops the hand from his gun.

“Why bring us somewhere so crowded?”

“Your pals are less likely to attack us if we’re surrounded by civilians and not doing anything wrong. Plus, background noise. As long as we’re relatively quiet we’re unlikely to be overheard or bothered,” he answers, then points at the abandoned stolen clothing on the floor, a brow raised. “But if it’s all the same, I’d prefer to explain more when we’re not in a bathroom.”

Jason stares at him for another long moment.

Someone jiggles the handle and knocks.

“Fuck it.”

He throws on the baggy outfit, grateful for the drawstring - which is the only thing keeping the pants up - at least the excess fabric covers his shoes enough to be less obviously Not Normal (™).

He whips off the mask and shoves it in the pocket of the hoodie - which hits him upper-mid thigh.

Seriously.

‘This guy is pants at guessing sizes.’

It takes a lot of inner strength to avoid facepalming when he realizes his unintentional pun.

Once dressed, Danny wastes no time opening up the door to leave, and he follows him out and into the coffee line, ignoring the wide-eyed look on the face of the guy who’d knocked.

They grab coffee and snag an outside table - even more background noise with all the traffic, Danny explains as they sit.

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

“So, Danny. Who, exactly, sent you to ‘help’ me?” Jason asks, leaning back in his seat.

Danny snorts at the theatrics, taking a sip of his own drink before he answers.

“He didn’t send me, he just told me you were in danger. I’m here because I want to be. But his name is Clockwork, the ghost that watches over the timestream.”

Danny sighs.

“We probably don't have a lot of time before Greenie and the Furries catch up, and they’ll need to hear a lot of what I have to tell you,” he says. “But, the basic - and more personal - details which only you really need to know-” he holds up a finger “-my parents have always been obsessed with ghosts and made it their life’s mission to open a portal to the afterlife - which they call the ‘Ghost Zone.’”

A second finger joins the first.

“They succeeded when I was 14, except they didn’t manage to make it turn on because they miswired an emergency off-switch on the inside to have an accompanying ‘on’ button that needed to be activated before it would work.”

A third.

“A friend dared me to go in and I, being a dumb kid, did. Then promptly tripped and hit the on-button and got electrocuted half to death. I say ‘half’ because in the midst of me dying the portal turned on, and the ectoplasm bonded to my living DNA and reached a sort of balance. This turned me into a halfa - a being that is half-human and half-ghost. Half alive and half dead. A human form and a ghost form.”

A fourth, Danny studiously ignoring Jason’s bewildered blinking.

“Halfa’s, due to the nature of our existences, are exceedingly rare. The first that I know of was created in an accident 20 years ago. I was the second. The third was already a halfa when she was created, being a clone of me - long story. The fourth, that I know of,” Danny leans forward, fingers curling back over to leave the hand pointing at Jason. “Is you.”

Danny can see the roiling mix of confusion-comprehension-horror-denial-fear-anger building up in him - anger the one that appeared to be winning - so he rushes to explain, holding his hands up placatingly - deja-vu.

“Clockwork only told me about you, like, an hour ago. He told me about how you didn’t know you were a halfa, how there’s barely enough ambient ectoplasm in this city to sustain you, that what is here is kind of garbage, that you don’t know how to get more - or that you need more. Or what ecto is - it’s like carbon for ghosts, I guess? Like living people are made of carbon but food is too?”

He squints. Shrugs.

“Ghosts are made of ecto and need it to be healthy. As halfas, we need both. There’s a lot more to ‘how to be a halfa’ but that’s the most important thing right now given I can literally sense how ecto-deprived you are. Your ecto-signature is literally so weak I could almost mistake you for a blob ghost, which is incredibly not-healthy. I nabbed a thermos from my fridge on the way here, so like. I know it probably sounds sus and your experience with green liquids-” he notes Jason tense back toward anger from where he’d been moving into confusion territory “-is probably historically bad, but I promise it’s safe. I’ll even drink some myself to prove it if that helps.”

A beat.

“Green liquids.”

It’s not a question, but Danny answers anyway, reaching into his chest to pull out the thermos, ignoring the strangled noise Jason makes and the aborted movement from where he’d begun to stand before crashing back down and staring as he uncaps the cylinder and pours a little of the ectoplasm into the cap before sliding the rest towards him.

“Ectoplasm!” Danny chirps, downing his like a shot only to find Jason staring, mouth slightly open in horror.

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

Jason has known Danny for less than five minutes, and the guy has already said and done the most unhinged things Jason has ever seen anyone do.

In five. Minutes.

Here’s the thing; Jason hates everything he’s saying.

That Jason is still dead.

That he needs to start drinking lazarus water.

That there was some time guy out there stalking him (as if he needed another nosy bastard hanging over his shoulder. He was just starting to barely-kind of-sorta tolerate the ones he knew about).

That Danny died in his parents’ basement because they were experimenting with lazarus water.

Jason had barely begun to process the insane shit he said when the guy shoves his hand through his fucking chest.

For a moment, he was fully convinced he was going to rip out his heart or something.

Instead, he’d apparently just been using his chest cavity as a storage location for a thermos of lazarus water.

Ya know, as you fucking do.

In keeping with his general vibe of ‘one-insane-thing-after-another-without-pause’ he immediately pours himself a glass and downs it like a fucking shot.

It hasn’t even been 24 hours since this nightmare started and Jason thinks he might be going prematurely gray by now (no the white part does not count, he died when he was 15, Tim).

Finally, mercifully, the guy stops talking and/or doing things.

He closes his hanging jaw, noting the unchanged blue of the guys’ eyes.

Danny is still calm. In control. Unaffected by a bit of eau de lazarus.

Jason takes a steadying breath, bracing himself for the smell of decay and mildew and blood that the waters always carry with them…and gets something completely different.

His eyes snap down to the still-open thermos laid before him.

Looking closer, he notes the lack of bubbles. The color is the same, but the glow itself is somehow brighter. Softer.

It doesn’t smell like lazarus water.

It smells like chamomile tea. Like the lavender cookies Alfred used to make post-patrol sometimes, trying to incite them to go to bed sooner rather than staying up at all hours.

It smells delicious.

He can feel his mouth water, and his stomach growls loudly, suddenly.

He’d had that oatmeal less than two hours ago, but he suddenly feels like he hadn’t eaten at all.

He sips his coffee instead, staring down the container of pure temptation, straining against the urge to pick it up and chug.

Danny watches on, silent, patient. He looks hopeful, Jason thinks, but not expectant.

Not that he couldn’t just be a really good actor. And just because the lazarus water smells good doesn’t mean it’s safe. Doesn’t mean he should just go for it.

Even if it does smell like chamomile tea and lavender cookies.

Alfred’s lavender cookies.

Which he’d never been able to resist.

‘He drank some,’ Jason thinks as he picks up the thermos. ‘He’s still fine,’ he tells himself. ‘If he wanted to he could’ve just dropped me directly into one of the pits. If he wanted to hurt me he could’ve phased poison directly into my bloodstream, probably.’

The not-quite-lazarus water tastes just like it smells.

Jason wants to chug the whole canister, but he has enough self-control to take sips instead, letting the flavors play out on his tongue.

No hint of almonds.

No odd textures.

Just chamomile and lavender and bliss.

Three sips and a solid ten seconds in and he still feels fine - no feeling faint or frothing at the mouth. Instead, he feels lighter.

Warmer.

Calmer.

Ravenous.

He chugs the rest, tension leaving his body, nerves settling, the hunger he hadn’t known was there until the scent first hit him abating enough to be ignored.

He takes a moment to look at the empty cylinder and reflect on the fact that he just voluntarily drank lazarus water.

Except not really. Lazarus water is vile; even Danny had said the ‘ecto’ he’d encountered was 'garbage.'

'What, did Ra's forget to install a damn pool-filter or something???

He shakes the thought from his head and looks back at his…rescuer? Danny only looks relieved; noticeably more relaxed than the apparently false-calm he’d been projecting before.

Jason chews his lip in thought. Frowns.

“Okay. I have many questions, comments, and concerns about…everything that just happened, to be honest. But before anything else, I want answers about Green Lantern.”

Danny nods, expression grave.

“Let me tell you a story….”

***

Fun Fact: Ectoplasm smelling like wild stuff is fun, but also it’s everywhere in the zone. Ghosts have to live in it & smell it/smell like it all the time. Sooooo….

In this AU I’m going with: ecto smells like ranch 2 (lime & batteries) to humans bc they can’t process it properly.

To ghosts, ectoplasm smells like the thing they want the most at that moment. Right now, Jason wants home - as it was when it was safe - so the ecto smells like something that reminds him of that.

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

Next time: Back at the batcave! If that scene doesn’t stretch too long, also reunion! Or at least Jason pov of being pissed when they have the audacity to want to talk!

Tags!

@skulld3mort-1fan @kyrianclawraith @jesimilu @bleuyellow93 @ocearnawrites @undead-essence @violet-catsarelife @sunsetdew0101 @tsukihimeyfan @the-legal-shipper @spideypoolalways @mariendall @jesus-camp-the-sequel @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @akikoyuii @mrowsters @do3y @aikoiya @joaniejustwokeup @wwwwyamd @fox-sama97

[catierambles]

"[...]It wouldn't have mattered if she hadn't been infected and found Sy for help, or if we had come across her and Lewis camping. We would have gotten her away from him as soon as humanly fucking possible because he's a goddamn Feral and I would have tasted dirt from my jaw being on the goddamn ground."

-Mike, Feral Instincts Ch.19

She checked her phone for the umpteenth time as she sat around the makeshift fire pit in the early morning hours, but cell service was spotty at best this far up in the mountains. Too many barriers between cell towers, or however that worked. Stephanie had to admit though, it was peaceful here, with nothing but the sounds of nature around her. No cars, no people, just quiet. Her and her boyfriend Jordan had been going through somewhat of a rough patch the last few months that had culminated in her attempting to break up with him, but he had convinced her to give him another chance. He would be different, he promised, he would control himself better, control his anger. He had been the last six months or so, he hadn't hit her once and she was starting to hope maybe, just maybe, that her threatening to leave him snapped him back to reality.

"Howdy." She heard and looked up, seeing the three men that had walked into the campsite as quiet as ghosts.

"Oh, hey." She said, standing from the folding chair and tucking her phone in the back pocket of her jeans, looking them over quickly. They were handsome, in varying ways.

One had closely cropped dark hair, a beard covering his jaw, the olive green tshirt he was wearing stretching over a powerful chest. The other was striking in his appearance, snow white hair half tied back away from his face, falling to his shoulders in gentle waves, piercing amber eyes regarding her evenly. The third was the youngest looking, with clear pale skin and thick black hair. The hoodie he was wearing unzipped to his waist was a bit big, but the white tshirt he wore underneath outlined a powerful chest, the hoodie sleeves pushed up strong forearms.

"You campin' on your lonesome?" The one with the buzzcut asked, his voice carrying a slight Southern twang.

"Uh, no." Stephanie said, "My boyfriend is getting some stuff from the car that didn't make the first trip."

"Leavin' you by yourself?" Buzzcut asked.

"He'll be back in a few."

"Sy." The one with white hair said simply, his voice deep and rough.

"Shit, sorry." He said, "I'm Markus Syverson, call me Sy, everyone does. This is Geralt Rivian," He gestured to the one who had spoken and he moved his head at her slightly. "And my baby brother, Mike."

"Hey." Mike said, waving at her briefly with a couple of fingers.

"You guys camping nearby?" She asked.

"Actually," Sy said, "This is my territory."

"Territory?" She asked and realization hit, "Oh! You're wolves! Sorry!"

"No harm done, doll." Sy said with a chuckle.

"Well, I'm um...not a wolf." Stephanie said.

"We know." Geralt said simply.

"My boyfriend is, though, but I don't think he knew that this was anyone's territory." She said, "I'll be sure to let him know when he gets back, we'll pack up and get out of your..." She cast a quick look to his scalp, "Space." Mike snorted at that, giving her an amused look and she winked at him, making his smile widen slightly. It was a nice smile, she had to admit.

"Your guy have a pack?" Sy asked but she shook her head.

"I mean, not one that I've ever met." She said, ''He kinda avoids other wolves, actually."

"Why?" Geralt asked and she shrugged.

"Have to ask him." She said and she watched Geralt walk further into the campsite, looking around, keeping it in mind that he was now behind her and in her blind spot as she kept looking at the others. He was big, and a wolf, but she already sussed out his center of gravity as he walked.

"You a local?" Sy asked.

"Town over." She said and he nodded with a sound.

"Baby, why did we bring so much damn stuff?" She heard and turned, a slight wave of relief washing over her as Jordan came up the slightly overgrown path, a duffelbag over each shoulder.

"Because you like to be overly prepared." She said, teasing slightly, but her friendly expression faltered as his jaw clenched, making her look away.

"Who's this?" He asked, setting the bags down.

"This is Sy, Mike, and...Geralt?" He nodded, "We're in Sy's territory, apparently."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry." Jordan said, "You're uh...you're Alphas."

"Yes." Geralt said, moving around him, his eyes starting to harden. "Knife in his belt."

"Never know what could be out here." Jordan said evenly, his shoulder's tightening. "Bears, mountain lions...."

"Ferals." Geralt growled.

"Doll, come here." Sy said and she looked at him, "Get away from'im. Right now. Come here."

"What's--what's going on?" Stephanie asked, the tension starting to build in the campsite.

"Your boyfriend is Feral, sweetcheeks. Come here." Mike said, "You're not safe with him."

"She's mine. She belongs to me." Jordan said, his voice taking on a frightening growl. He suddenly swung at her, his nails wicked claws and she leapt back. Geralt grabbed the back of his jacket, throwing him to the ground.

"Get her out of here!" He ordered and Sy grabbed her hand, pulling her away and she looked back as Jordan pulled the knife from his belt, getting to his feet as Geralt squared off before letting herself get pulled away.

They didn't stop moving quickly until they reached a cabin, Sy pulling her inside with Mike coming up the back. Another man hopped up from the couch, looking at them as they entered. He was also powerfully built, with a halo of dark curls and a thick dark beard.

"Sy? What's going on?" He asked, his voice carrying a British accent.

"Feral." Sy said and turned to her, releasing her hand only to hold her arms gently. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, I'm--I'm fine." She said, seeing the fourth man come from the back, sipping at a mug. He was regarding her with slight suspicion as he lowered the mug, pulling traces of coffee of the mustache covering his upper lip, his jaw covered in the beginnings of a beard. "Jordan, he...he swung at me."

"Yeah, saw that." Sy said, "Claws were out, he was aiming to kill or infect. Nice reflexes, though."

"Thanks." She said with a shrug, "Your friend, Geralt, is he...is he going to be okay?Jordan had a knife."

"Geralt's a Tracker with the Pack Council." The one who came out of the kitchen said, "He's dealt with Ferals before."

"Can we have your name?" The British one asked.

"Oh yeah, shit, sorry." Sy said, "What's your name, doll?"

"Stephanie," She said, "Stephanie Daniels."

[anki-of-beleriand]

A heart Made of Glass ch.12

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

Okay, this chapter had some tricks in it that are surronding Reader and Wanda, this is their story and this time around Reader would need to make the right decision if she wants to get what she wants and what she needs.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

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

Chapter 12

In a different world

The universe started with a spark of bright golden light.

Loki Odinson had seen it several times, he had witnessed the birth and death of multiple universes and timelines that were destined to perish in a myriad of colours that would soon be forgotten. He had sat on the throne, and while he was not a King himself, he could recall the faces of all of those poor souls that disappeared into the nothingness, just as he could remember the beauty behind the first spark of life.

However, what he was experimenting right now was nothing like it.

Whatever, or whoever had decided to intervene had messed up with his own spell and everything had exploded into nothingness. A single spark of red, green and golden then, nothingness. Black spaces that disappeared without any traces left behind.

Loki started at the empty space that was Wanda and Y/N’s basement before he sighed. He sat down shaking his head, a headache approaching just as he thought on the oncoming conversation he would need to sustain with the Avengers.

“Fuck.” The word rolled out of his lips in such a natural way, he could do nothing but leaned back against the wall.

What the hell just happened?

What did he do?

What did Wanda and Y/N do to get this reaction?

The silence soon became deafening, Loki located the book Strange had died trying to recover. He frowned while leaning over to pick it up, the spell was done correctly with all the right wording as well as the right drawings on the ground. So, why did it go wrong? His eyes scanned the pages, re-reading the passages over and over until his heart dropped at one particular line, something he had overlooked the very first time he read that passage.

“…this, however, may be counterproductive if there is a magical or multiversal energy interference, the amount of energy converging at one point may created an unexpected result and…”

Loki knew the rest by heart, he knew there could be troubles but…well, how many energies were involved in the spell? He had counted on those signatures coming from Wanda and Y/N, he had even counted on his but…was there anybody else out there? Was there anybody else at the other side of the multiverse?

“Shit.” Loki stood up fixing up his clothes before flickering his hand to open a portal. He needed to face the consequences of his acts, and the first stop would be the Avengers Tower and Steve Roger’s office.

The former Captain America was going to enjoy telling Loki ‘I told you so’, just before hitting him in the face.

With one last glance to the basement, Loki turned around and left the place.

He never worried to test the energy fields around, or to tap into the timelines flickering in front of his eyes. It never occurred to him that, as soon as the explosion happened, a new singular timeline appeared right before his eyes just to blend itself with the other timelines flickering in front of Loki.

No one but the Watcher could see it, The Watcher stood in the sidelines furrowing his brows and waiting.

The world would either collapse in itself, or it would fix the anomalies by itself.

Either way, he was watching history, and the future of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

_________________________________________

Darkness had always been your friend.

You were born in it, and it had been your weapon and your refugee in the hardest of times. That was the main reason you didn’t panic at first, everything around you was filled with the purest form of darkness with a single touch of coldness that sneaked inside your clothes. The hairs on your arms stood up, a shiver went right through your muscles making you groan as you finally experience the pain in your body.

Your mouth opened inhaling deeply filling your lungs with gusts of cold air, your chest contracting itself just before you started coughing. It was then you opened your eyes, and the darkness that you had experienced moments ago was nothing but you woke up from unconsciousness.

The first thing you noticed were different white dots in the sky winking back at you. You tried to grasp a single thought, seeking around your mind for a coherent idea but it was almost impossible to do so when the rest of your body was finally receiving different stimulus in the way of pain and coldness.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called to your left, you tried to sit up but a single hand placed itself on your shoulder pressing you to the ground.

“Ease there, pal, you were really hurt back there.”

Even if you didn’t get a chance to sit up, your world started spinning around. The voice was so familiar, yet so different to what you were used to; with some reluctance you turned your face to the right and soon you found yourself looking at yourself.

The other woman offered a tentative smile, though the way she was squinting her eyes and the pursed of her lips told you she was just as confused as you were at the moment. Soft footsteps approached you, America Chavez was wearing a single cut on her cheek and a bruised eye, this time around you didn’t let you counterpart to stop you, you sat up to check over the teen kneeling beside you.

“America, are you alright?” Your eyes rolled back for a moment, your knees fell harshly on the ground while you held yourself with a single hand placed on your leg.

“Y/N, please…” America winced lightly glancing at you then at your counterpart. “I think you were the one that suffered the most…”

“It was my fault, actually. So, sorry?”

You blinked a couple of times, shaking your head made the headache worse and the dizziness settled on your lower abdomen. You lifted your face blinking a couple of times before checking America over, the young woman softened her features with her cheeks colouring pink while her lips tried to offer a single smile. You tried to ignore the other Y/N for as long as you could before turning around to settle your eyes on her.

Just like America, she was wearing a single cut on her forehead with her clothes dishevelled but otherwise nothing else. With some reluctance you lifted your eyes looking deep into those eyes that you knew so well.

“This is the weirdest shit I have ever had to live to date.” You finally said shaking your head, “I hope it is the last weird shit ever.”

“Agreed.” Y/N tilted her head furrowing her brows while giving you a quick glance. “Before this happened, I’m afraid I was in your body fighting with someone that got lucky…so…”

“So, that’s why I feel like this?” You cracked smile, your counterpart nodded mirroring the smile on your face. “Okay, got it, so…what the hell is going on?”

America and Y/N glanced at one another then at you, it wasn’t until then that you decided to take a good look at the surrounding area. The place in itself was nothing strange, yet you got a feeling that this was not your universe or even that of your counterpart.

The sky was completely dark filled stars but as you got to observe them above your head you realized there were not your stars. The constellations you had come to know thanks to Natasha and Carol had been changed and were replaced by different forms you did not recognize. With a single frown you lowered your eyes to find yourself in a plain of land filled with dried grass that extended beyond what the eyes could see. It was an empty land, with nothing beyond the darkness of the night without any moon it was hard to actually see something that could give you an idea of your location.

The sound of whistling called your attention, and soon you found yourself being wrapped tightly by two pair of arms. Before you could protest or ask what they were doing, you experience the sharp bite of wind, A cold, merciless breeze that soon turned into a whirlwind that left as suddenly as it had come.

“Wh-what the hell?” Your eyes opened wide, your teeth chattering while America and Y/N leaned back wincing.

“We need to move.”

You furrowed your brows shaking your head, “move where? I can barely see you two, how are we going to see the path or…where the hell are we?”

America sighed standing up, she stretched her hand to you offering a tender smile.

“You haven’t figured it out?”

You stood on weakened legs, your mouth opened ready to protest until you finally realised it. While it was true there was nothing much to see beyond the darkness and the starry night, you could see America and your counterpart just fine. It took you but a few minutes until, you lifted your hand and the shadows followed you giving you a good glance of what was around you.

“We can manipulate shadows, the night in itself is darkness and filled with the main source of our power.” Y/N stated matter-of-factly while standing before you, you nodded curtly feeling foolish for not even thinking about it.

“Are you guys going to tell me what’s going on?”

America grabbed your hand, then turning to Y/N she shrugged also grabbing her hand as well.

“We may as well update her while we continue walking.”

“We saw lights coming from what we think was a village a few kilometres away, were trying to get there until these weird whirlwinds came in and we couldn’t carry you anymore.” Y/N explained shrugging. “We’re guessing once we get to some sort of place filled with civilization we will know more…”

“Why didn’t you try to travel through the shadows?” You asked ready to do so when the warning tone from your own voice stopped you.

“I couldn’t do it without leaving America here, and I have a bad feeling as soon as I tried it…so…” Y/N shrugged looking ahead of her, “I always follow my instincts, they have never failed me.”

The comment sent a sharp pain straight to your heart.

Your instincts had never failed you either.

Nothing else was said after this, the three of you were following the direction America had pointed out but you were just lost not really knowing if this was the right path or just a wild guess. The temperature was dropping even more, soon your teeth were chattering alongside those of America and the other you. You felt a sharp pain through your head, whatever had happened before you woke up had left your body quite bruised and right now all you wanted was to find a bed, an analgesic and something to eat. For a brief moment, an intrusive thought came forward in the form of Wanda, panic rose through your chest and filled your mind but before you could ask anything about her your counterpart spoke.

“I still don’t understand how everything came to be,” she spoke with a tone of voice you were familiar with, you let your eyes wandered around the landscape holding onto every word resounding into the darkness of the night.”

“I remembered when Wanda and I saved America the first time, and then trying to safe her from these creatures chasing her down.” Y/N trailed off with her memories making her falter, with a single shake of her head she continued, “I know I was out for a while, so you can guess how surprised I was to wake up in the arms of someone that wasn’t my wife…”

“Not really.” Your reply was filled with coldness, tension building up in your body, “I have always had the luxury of waking up alone in my bed.”

America winced lifting her head to glance at you, her dark eyes begging you to listen before jumping in whatever discussion you wanted to start.

“Agatha Harkness.” The name reached the inside of your mind with the memory of the file you read on her, not only that, but also the different videos you saw surrounding her story inside of Wanda’s world.

“That was the woman you woke up to every day, Y/N.” America chimed in shyly, she lowered her gaze squeezing your hand tenderly. “She had been dragging Scarlet and Wanda around, draining them of their powers and leaving them defenceless for quite some time, and since…well, since Y/N was under her spell…”

You opened your mouth to speak, you wanted to say something but finding your counterpart’s eyes on you whatever argument you had built inside your mind came crumbling down and soon you were given their side of their story.  Little by little the story started making sense, the building of a different world and the intrusive dreams you were having in the last couple of weeks, the purple and red magic surrounding you on that day as well as the mixed-up realities that ended up with you thrown into another’s body. You had always known that Wanda was special, and powerful, you never imagined just how much.

America had been a part of the plan, of course. Her powers would be very beneficial to someone like Agatha, and your powers would make sure no one would ever find her. Everything was about the most basic reason of all: Power. You pursed your lips disgusted; you were dragged into a confrontation with Wanda because there was a woman chasing after power. You had been running from Wanda for more than ten years, and all it took was this woman to ruin everything.

And now, now you were walking down the darkness of the night with a girl that could travel through different universes and your counterpart, a woman that got the life you had dreamt of a long time ago.

“Life is not fair.” Y/N stated glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, “but it is what we have, and we must…”

“…deal with it, take what it is being offered and try to be happy with it.” You finished shaking your head.

“Ah, so not everything is lost, I see.” Y/N allowed a single smile to break on her face, you pursed your lips snorting.

“You don’t know the story.”

“But she does, that’s why she told you those very same words, didn’t she?” Your counterpart stopped all of a sudden, you let out a heavy sigh before turning to face her.

America was standing in between the both of you, her brows knitted together with her gaze travelling around the terrain before settling on the both of you.

“Look, I know that you and Wanda had a different experience than mine, I’m glad you did because…” You trailed off holding onto your emotions, “I don’t wish on you the pain I went through…”

For the very first time ever you saw your own face breaking into a broken-hearted smile, with those eyes losing all light and those lips curving into a crooked smile. It was you looking back, and you understood right there and then that you weren’t the only one.

“You forgive her?” You asked with a hint of hope in your voice, you hated how the question left your lips and how your counterpart understood what you meant.

“How could I not if my heart beats for her?” She replied clenching her eyes closed, her hands rested upon your shoulders before you found yourself looking into your eyes. “There is a difference, though, isn’t it?”

“You guys were not together…” You started but she merely tilted her head.

“You know it wouldn’t matter if we were a couple or not, she chose someone else when we have always chosen her.” Y/N squeezed your shoulders lightly. “The difference is that I gave her a chance because I want to do so, you didn’t because…”

“I don’t believe in second chances! If I have done so she would have broken my heart all over again when she went into her imaginary world with Vision!” You exclaimed enraged, surprising Y/N and America.

The other woman furrowed her brows, she was ready to argue back with you and asked questions about the imaginary world. It was quite evident a lot of things had happened in this strange world and Y/N could only imagine the pain and rage engulfing your heart at the moment.

America could see darkness surrounding the three of you her eyes opening wide almost losing into the shadows until her eyes caught glimpses of red and purple right ahead.

“Guys?” America stuttered lifting her hand and pointing to the distance.

You two stopped your discussion turning around to see the same sparkles of red and purple. It was a formation of dusty colouring breaking into the darkness of the night sky, you turned to the left to see Y/N frowning with determination and America shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

“It’s not that far away, I mean it could be at least one kilometre?” Y/N faced you holding onto the previous tension of your conversation with her, you clenched your fist shrugging.

“Looks that way.”

“Are we…” America started but you lifted a hand to silence her.

“Before we jump in to do something I think we need more information, we don’t even know what we are going to find over there.” You looked out of the corner of your eyes; the lights were still gleaming pretty much intensely but you could tell your two companions didn’t want to stay still and do any planning.

“What do you propose?” Y/N asked lifting her chin, “you know pretty well those sparks of crimson are Wanda’s, and we know this woman, this Agatha has been using purple magic. Are you really suggesting we stand here or keep walking in circles?”

“No! All I am asking is to first think about what we are going to do! We’re not even sure where we are much less what we are going to find there.” You asked back lifting your hands in the air and stepping back, the pain you had forgotten in favour of the discussion came back making you winced.

“Look I know you guys think the world of Wanda, and that’s cool, I guess your Wanda,” this time around you pointed to your counterpart trying to remain calm, “she is all love and kindness and that’s fine. The Wanda in world had a total breakdown that enslaved a bunch of people in a reality she created for herself and that microwave she called husband, so forgive me if I’m not going to jump in without any additional information.”

Your tirade echoed through the night, your voice carried by the wind with a dropped in the temperature. The moon that had been travelling with the three of you flickered all of a sudden, and the darkness grew around the three of you. America didn’t miss the flickering lights of crimson and purple, but she couldn’t stop herself from grabbing your hand in hers, the warm she shared with you made you shivered and with some reluctance you lower you stare to her. Even in such a darkness you could see her brown eyes gleaming with emotions.

“You still love her.” America mumbled squeezing your hand tenderly.

You clenched your jaw tilting your head to the side, America bit her lower lip glancing from you to Y/N.

“I don’t know why this has to be so complicated, but she needs you.” America took a deep breath stepping closer to you. “Wanda is sad, and I know she messed up and that forgiveness should not be given just because you feel that way. But she really needs you, she and Scarlet.”

“Look, I don’t know what happened between the both of you.” Y/N stepped in making sure you could not look away from your own eyes. “But the woman I love is out there, being it in this dimension or another Wanda Maximoff would always be MY Wanda and I won’t leave her out there to get hurt. If not for you, then at least do it for me.”

It was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by darkness and coldness that your heart finally gave in. With a nod, your dropped your shoulders in defeat missing the smile coming from America but never missing the satisfied glance coming from your counterpart. The three of you finally turned to the source of the magic, and without a simple plan you three started making your way to the source.

You were not prepared for what was waiting for you over there.

Agatha Harkness smirked at the woman kneeling before her.

In less than a year she had made it possible to crumble away the legend of the Scarlet Witch while placing herself as the most powerful witch in the multiverse. Her smile never faltered, not even when the world spined around changing into a familiar setting; a place and time Agatha had suffered before but that now she could alter with a single flicker of her hand.

The place was filled with passersby ignoring the presence of the two women; nobody seemed to care that one of them was on her knees with a single neck shackle made of light red and blue tied to a crimson necklace Agatha wore on her chest.

“What do you think about this arrangement, dear?” The dark-haired woman asked, her eyes dropping to the kneeling Wanda who was shooting her a stare filled with anger. “Personally, I think this could be more lively, but don't worry soon enough we will have a show to die for.”

Her laughter was accompanied by a flash of violet, and soon the scene changed and they were transferred to a great marketplace located at the centre of the village. Everyone had reunited around four pillared pyres that were guarded by at least ten knights all dressed in black.

Wanda lifted her face, her ears twitched hearing the sound of angry screams cursing someone she couldn't make out yet. Agatha stirred in excitement; her smile grew until it was a crooked grin with just a hint of madness behind it.

“Here they come…”

The crowd spread around just as four figures came in walking on naked feet wearing red robes and bruised faces. The hatred and fear coming from the crowd was quite evident as the torches and the pitchforks drew wild patterns above the townspeople’s heads. The light of the torches ignited the night, Wanda tensed under the grip of the woman standing beside her, the hairs on her arms raising up while her eyes narrowed to follow the events unfolding in front of her.

The four women were pushed forward, each one of them had a single knight standing behind them with heavy hands they were dragged to the four pillars tied to them facing the crowd. It didn’t take her too long to guess what was about to happen, and what exactly were those pillars; the pyres had been set up to ensure everyone could see the women died. The crowd cheered cruelly, laughing and cursing while the four women glared at the people with more bravery than they actually felt. 

“This was my coven.” Agatha spat out, her hands sparkling with a mixture of red and purple, “they saw my power, they read my intentions and instead of supporting me they dared to try and stop me…”

“I wonder why.” Wanda couldn’t hold the sarcasm behind her voice, Agatha pulled harshly on the ropes holding her neck making Wanda fall on her back.

“You really are more daring than your counterparts, dear. I would be careful, if I were to be honest I don’t need you alive.” 

Agatha caressed the necklace smirking at Wanda, the woman couldn’t hide her anger and the magic that was pulsating inside her was not enough to protect her from Agatha’s anger. Soon Wanda let out a scream of pain, her body twitching painfully until he couldn’t keep her eyes open and all she could think about was the searing pain on her limbs.

“It has been so long since I was just a lowly witch like them, afraid of fire and the angry crowd. I grew to be magnificent, to have power beyond anyone’s imagination…” Agatha continued with his rambling observing with gleaming eyes as the Major of the town stood forward proclaiming the sins of the four women.

“I just had to find you, Wanda, you and that so-called Scarlet Witch.” Wanda took a deep breath, half hearing the woman while watching with horror as the night above her head flickered from one setting to another.

“It was not easy, you know?”

Agatha flickered her hand to the right and soon Wanda was on her knees watching as the world around her changed. It was like watching a movie in a dome. The world changed to day and night flickering images of Agatha dragging her burnt body through the ground whispering spells that only she could hear. The image soon changed showing the passing of time, Agatha looking around the world and stealing the magic of others while seeking something out of desperation.

She finally found it after more than a century.

Wanda opened her eyes at the familiar setting, Kamar Taj stood under stormy winds and heavy snow. Agatha sneaked around, distracting the inhabitants of the temple by provoking landslides that would certainly have killed innocent people if it hadn’t been by the protectors of the temple. She had enough time to steal a single book.

“Y-you…you stole the..th-e…the Drakhold.” Wanda leaned forward resting her hands on the ground, she was shocked to find the snow under her hands was real and that everything she was seeing was not an illusion but a real event.

Her mind was trying to comprehend what was really happening. Her knowledge of the Darkhold had not been as broad as it had been for Strange and even Loki. But she did know one thing or two about the origins of her powers, Chaos Magic had been called and it gave her the power to bend reality and life in ways not many could access to. The darkness inside her had been contained by her family and her loved ones, but the same could not be said by others, apparently.

“I did.” Agatha finally answered tilting her head, soon the scene changed and they were taken to a place Wanda was familiar with.

Westview.

“Yet, I was still not strong enough, or the only one with powers beyond our imaginations.” Agatha made a face, stepping forward strolling down the streets with Wanda following her. “When the Avengers showed up it was quite evident that people with powers could no longer be hidden. It was my time to shine until you, my dear Wanda, showed up.”

Wanda saw herself in a building in Sokovia, it was a place she was familiar with yet the story that was unfolding in front of her had nothing to do with what she had lived once. Her other self struggled to control her powers, to live her life, to be who she was supposed to be but failed every single time. Agatha had never been too far from those events, and whenever Wanda failed, Agatha would clutch the young woman closer to her. The red and purple magic intertwined without anyone noticing.

“What did you do?” Wanda asked, finding herself in the middle of the square in Westview. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining right above their heads and not a single cloud in sight. 

Agatha smirked, her eyes changing colours to one of deep crimson, “I finally became who I am supposed to be, and soon my dear I will have all the power to bend the universes at my will. And now, I will finish what I started all those months ago with your pathetic counterpart and you will help me out with this.”

The world suddenly exploded around them, Wanda clenched her jaw closed, lifting her eyes to the sky to see the runes above her head.

“You…” She gritted her teeth, her eyes closing right away trying to gather her thoughts and power to stop the woman standing beside her.

Agatha chuckled darkly, her gripped on Wanda tightened allowing the influx of memories to invade the mind of the redhead. It was a life she was no familiar with, a suffering she had not experiment in the same way but that generate in her an understanding of the mess this world was in. She could see the moment Agatha entered the story, the failures and the almost victories until finally she got what she wanted.

A weakened Wanda Maximoff without anyone in the world to stand by her side.

Power.

And a way to get away with her plan.

“You…you won’t win.” Wanda finally got out; her eyes gleaming dangerously at the other woman who made a face rolling her eyes.

“I already did, dear. You just haven’t realized it yet.” Agatha let go of Wanda stepping away.

The brunette straightened up lifting her arms in front of her, her hands creating a purple mist while the necklace she wore zealously around her neck gleamed with intensity. Those eyes that moment’s ago had been brown, were now a deep black and the world around Wanda trembled under the electric shift of power the witch was gathering around her.

“Now, I have all the pieces in place, in my world…under my rules.” Agatha stated tilting her head to the side, “I will bend everyone to my will…and you, Wanda, will be nothing but a bad memory.”

The sky above their heads changed into darkness, the temperature dropped and Wanda felt the heavy weight of the atmosphere overwhelming her. She could sense her counterpart weakening inside the prison Agatha had chosen for her, her thoughts were still a mixture of memories she couldn’t quite place while the heavy emotions running through her soul threaten to overwhelm. Wanda could read the intentions behind the woman standing before her, she could read the hatred and violence behind those dark eyes. Lifting her chin to the sky, and her eyes showing off her own magic she decided if this was going to be her end, she would face it with defiance.

The ball of energy flickered in Agatha’s hand, the world stood still and the with smirked ready to give the final blow.

Agatha was so concentrated in her final goal, she never noticed she was no longer alone and what she though was illusions of her own invention were actually three people she didn’t think would be a problem until one of them stood right in front of her shielding Wanda from an imminent dead.

You had crossed the protective barrier around the strange town with a single thought in mind. Your intention was to get this over with and go back to your life on Norway, your heart beating fast while your mind protest for the easiness in which you were trying to go back to a life in which you were ignoring the woman that had never left your heart. It looked easy, just do your thing and then fixed whatever mess you were in and then…go back.

But the universe and the Powers That Be decided that it wouldn’t be just as easy as a flickered of your hand.

As soon as the three of you crossed the barrier you were face to face with flashes of memories that presented you with a film of the lives of Wanda and Agatha. The stories of the coven and the search for power, as well as the fall of Sokovia and Wanda’s struggles with her powers and her life.

“This is so wrong.” Y/N stated clenching her fist while stepping forward until she was finally standing beside you, the both of you stood on an empty street hearing the sounds of muffled conversation.

“Any plan?” You finally stated ignoring the piercing pain in your heart, your counterpart shrugged nodding to the darkened street that was flashing a mixture of red and purple.

“I think the best approach is a straightforward one.”

“Humph, so go there and just start fighting?” You replied with your lips breaking into a single smirk.

“Yep, pretty much.”

“That doesn’t sound like a solid plan.” America mumbled unsure, she furrowed her brows turning to you and then to your counterpart.

You turned to America placing a hand on her shoulder, “but it is what we have. You are going to stay here and wait.”

“But…I can fight! I can help!” America stepped back frowning, “I won’t be left behind…”

“I know you can fight, kiddo.” You replied tilting your head, “and that’s why you are staying behind.”

America opened her mouth to protest but Y/N came forth shaking her head.

“You are our backup, America. If anything were to happen to us and Wanda…” Y/N stated dropping her gaze for a moment, she turned to you until finally she locked eyes with America. “You need to do anything you can to ensure Agatha won’t scape, you understand?”

America pursed her lips, a part of her understood the mission but another part wanted to go straight ahead and face the woman that had been chasing her through the multiverse. America clenched her fists before nodding curtly and stepping back. You offered a single smile, your hand squeezing comfortingly the shoulder of the teen.

“There would be time, America, for now just watch our backs.”

“I will.”

“Good then, let’s go.”

You nodded curtly allowing your powers to spread in front of you, there was resistance when trying to reach the shadows and for the very first time you understood what your counterpart meant about your instinct. Everything in your body was screaming danger as soon as you came into contact with the shadows, your body shivered under the piercing weight of a million needles. You clenched your jaw closed stepping into the shadows with a single thought in mind.

Wanda.

Without any hesitation and moving through the invisible obstacles in that universe you appeared right before Wanda and Agatha just in time. Your eyes went black with your right arm lifting in front of you and creating a protective barrier just as Agatha’s hand came into contact with your shadows.

There was a flickering of power, the older woman snarled a curse lifting her left arm in the same fashion and launching a second attack. Your eyes opened slightly only for your shadows to slithered away grabbing the woman’s midsection to pull her away.

The world crumbled for an instant; Agatha was completely shocked to see not only you but your counterpart standing right in front of her. The woman straightened up, sweat rolling down her forehead while her right hand closed around her necklace and her other hand summoned the Darkhold.

“You really are a pain in my behind, but at least I won’t have to go around looking for you.” Agatha stated tilting her head to the side, her annoyance giving way to a confident smile. “Now, how about the two of you are good girls and give up, I would hate to spend my time submitting you to get what I want.”

You spread your feet positioning yourself in a fighting pose, your eyes narrowing slightly while the woman in front of you got her magic ready. But before Agatha could do anything at all, another set of shadows grabbed her arms putting them back making her woman lose her grip on the necklace and the Darkhold, your body tensed when Wanda stood up behind you, her voice quivering slightly as she pronounced your name with reverence and love.

“Hey, I hope you didn’t forget about me, Agatha dear.” Your counterpart said winking at Wanda while flickering her hands away, Agatha grunted freeing herself with a blast of energy and stepping a few feet away.

“Hn, I didn’t expect this.” She stated summoning the Darkhold, the world around the four of you changed, shaping itself in a familiar setting you had come to hate in your mind.

Westview.

Agatha never wavered in her confidence, if anything it seemed to grow the same way her magic was doing at the moment. You took a fighting stance, your shadows flickering around waiting for your command. You glanced out of the corner of your eye, Wanda had been trying to stand up but her knees and feet seemed uncooperative. Before you could offer any help, your counterpart came in wrapping her arms around Wanda while placing her forehead against Wanda’s one.

“Hey, love.”

“Hi.” Wanda replied with easiness, Y/N sighed in relief before placing a single kiss on her wife’s cheek.

“I miss you.” Y/N said softly, your heart shrank with emotion when your mind caught up with what was really happening.

You furrowed your brows, sweeping around the place until your darkened eyes fell on Agatha who was smiling playfully at you, her right hand playing absentmindedly with the necklace.

“Where is…Wanda?” The question left your lips before you could stop it, Wanda and Y/N both glanced at one another before they set their eyes on you.

A sinking feeling settled on your lower stomach, you were afraid of the answer when you realized this Wanda was trying to look everywhere but you. Tilting your head, you finally got a good look at your surroundings where the suburban houses filled out the imaginary world; the Wanda you had come to know from another universe held onto your counterpart tightly though right now her green eyes had been focusing straight ahead of you.

“Where is she? Wanda?” You asked again, this time around there was a demanding undertone that the other woman couldn’t ignore.

“Agatha has them under her control, she is using a powerful and dangerous book, Y/N.” Wanda could tell her answer was not of your liking, she stepped forward ready to join you and her wife in the fight glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes.

“You don’t know where she has Wanda?” You asked again never taking your eyes off of the older woman standing before you.

“I have my suspicions but I’m not sure how to interfere with that.” Wanda winced trying to ease out the pain on her neck, you frowned pursing your lips while taking a closer look at Agatha before your eyes found the same house you had come to know as Wanda’s place.

“Well, then let’s get this over with and get Wanda back.” Your arms stretched to the sides, the silent command spurred into action the shadows around you flying straight ahead to try and get Agatha.

Before your counterpart and the other Wanda could help you out, the creatures summoned by Agatha launched their first attack. A great explosion was heard while you evaded the flashing balls of power sent over by the witch.

The fight soon broke over, you didn’t notice it but the dome surrounding this part of the universe tremble sending waves of energy all through the world until they came into contact with the timeline and America. The young woman lifted her head, her eyes gleaming brightly as she tapped into her powers; bouncing on the balls of her feet she waited. America could hear the sound of explosions and the muffled sound of conversations and screams, she glanced at her hands thinking about the lessons she had been learning in the last couple of months. She closed her fists, opening them again before lifting her face. This people had been putting their lives on the line for her, they had been trying to protect her without expecting anything in exchanged. It was about time she helped them.

With a glance to the sky, America took a deep breath closing her eyes for a brief moment. As soon as she opened them, her lips curled into a single smile.

Time for payback.

The street had been completely destroyed during the fight.

There were no more homes standing up, or nice cosy gardens decorating the suburban setting. The world soon became a mixture of nothingness with the flickering holograms of reality that you could not touch. Agatha had learnt a thing or two since fighting with Wanda, you could see her ability to hold onto her powers while also making use of those she had stolen from your Wanda.

You shook your head hating the thoughts running around in your head, the overwhelming emotions that seemed to try and govern your decisions. You tried to focus your energy on what was right in front of you, the problem you were facing went beyond your own emotions. There would be a time for you to deal with them.

Agatha lifted her left hand above her head before letting it fall fast to her side, the sharp pain of your skin being pierce made you grunted. You could feel the wounds on your arms, your eyes igniting in a deep black that soon went right ahead to engulf the witch in front of you.

At some point, Agatha had become faster than your attacks, she stepped aside flickering her hands and soon two more creatures appeared out of nowhere.

“Is that all you got?” You asked almost losing your concentration when you heard the voice of your counterpart in the back.

“Get away from my wife!”

Agatha smirked grabbing her necklace, tilting her head she settled her eyes on you.

“Oh, dear, you would be surprised with the number of tricks I can bring on you.” Agatha stepped forward, her feet never touching the ground. “I could make your dreams come true; I can be what Wanda never was for you.”

You pressed your lips together taking into a fighting stance.

“You know nothing about my dreams, and I am certainly not looking for a replacement.”

Agatha snorted her hand gripping tightly on the necklace, soon a red mist grew from the space between her neck and chest and the world around her turned crimson. Agatha stretched out her arms and the whole world vibrate around you changing in the blink of an eye.

“Are you sure? I can tell by the pathetic way you are always looking at her, but the way you talk about her that there is nothing else you want more than her…” Agatha’s voice rose above the new scene, your eyes flickered around while your stomach dropped when you realized where she had taken you to.

For a brief moment you could make out the screams and grunts of the fight going on right outside this small world. You took a deep breath trying to get a hold of your powers ignoring the runes glowed above your head a clear sign that this was still being controlled by Agatha. You creased your brows knowing that your options were limited if the other woman decided to use her magic at its full potential. She was playing with you, leading you on and one until it was quite clear she was mocking you by placing you right in front of a memory that had broken your heart at some point.

It was playing in slow motion, the video and the room with everyone just as shocked as you were to see Wanda in the arm’s of another. The passing of time, every single moment that you had suffered the betrayal while facing your sadness alone in a world of pure darkness. Your fit closed, the shadows on your feet stirred violently sensing your anger when you heard Agatha laughing. Mocking you.

“How did it make you feel knowing she was happier with a man?” Agatha purred making sure to be as far away from you as she could. “How did it feel knowing you were never going to be chosen in this world? In this universe? I bet it pierce your soul knowing you were the one destined to be alone.”

“Shut up.”

“I can make it go away, I can help you out…say the words, and I will make sure you get what you want.”

Your knees gave under your weight, furrowing your brows you tried to close yourself to the mocking film playing around you trying to focus on the fight. Agatha chuckled tilting her head, this time around the runes above her head pulsated and the two creatures grew before your eyes attacking viciously at your counterpart and Wanda making sure that your conversation and fight with Agatha wouldn’t be interrupted. Agatha centred her eyes on you, her hand grabbing the necklace while the same video seemed to be on replay.

“She won’t be a problem for you anymore, and after I’m done with you…you won’t have to worry about the pain of your broken heart, dear.” The laughter sent shivers down your back, but it was everything you were waiting for.

Your lips curled into a smile, your right hand twirled clockwise and the shadows broke into waves catching up with the witch. Just as you had located her, ready to give her a lesson, the woman was ready to use the magic Wanda and Scarlet were giving to her to make sure the next stage of her plan could be completed.

It never happened, though.

Your attack never stopped reaching out to your objective, while Agatha tried to return the hit she was surprised by a sudden punch to her face. The punch glow white, and her body bounced back and forth until she lost the hold on the necklace, America Chavez didn’t stop there and your shadows went straight to hold onto the witch to bring her down.

Everything happened so fast, your eyes went from America to Agatha and finally to the object on the ground. The necklace bounced on the ground, and without thinking too much you went right ahead to grab it. The object was warm to the touch, you could tell by the vibrations that magic had been contained between the object and this magic could only belong to one person. You closed your hand around it, you could sense Scarlet deep inside your mind. It didn’t take you too long to recognize the woman that had been haunting your dreams as of late, right with her you could also sense Wanda trying to hide, trying to survive.

“NO!”

The scream coming from Agatha was everything you needed to drop the necklace and stomp on the piece of jewellery creating an explosion that blew you and everyone around you away.

“Humph…” Your mouth opened letting out a shaky breath, your body hurt all over while your eyes got use to the sparkling lights that appeared before them when your head hit the ground.

“Y/N!!” You tried to sit up, a pair of arms held onto you for a brief moment until you were capable of making out the figure sitting beside you.

America had her brows creased; her eyes shone with worry while she tried to hold you up. The fighting was still ringing inside your ears, your counterpart was finishing the last of the dimensional creatures while you could spot her Wanda holding back against Agatha. For a brief moment, panic rose inside you the sudden need to throw up became almost to much just as you leaned forward trying to stand up your eyes looking frantically for the women that had been haunting your dreams and reality as of late.

“They are unconscious…” America started but she could not finish her sentence as you stood up without any warning.

“Wanda…” Her name escaped your lips without meaning to, at that moment with your body exhausted and your mind already carrying the weight of so many memories and thoughts all you could do was staggered forward until you reached both women.

You stood on shaky legs glancing from Wanda to Scarlet, both of them unconscious wearing the same bags under their eyes and the bruises all over their faces and arms. You hesitated not really knowing where you should focus your attention until, as an afterthought you went to Wanda. Turning her to the side you ensure she was comfortable, her lip had a deep cut and her forehead had traces of a scratch that left her with blood and dirt. She looked thinner than you remember, with her face wearing still the same defeated expression she wore to your home all those months ago.

“Wanda.” You said her name again, this time around firmer and demanding, your hand trying to help her out until you heard her exclamation of pain. “Wanda, are you alright?”

The young woman stirred in your arms, her eyes flickering slightly until she opened her lips and let out an exclamation of pain. You put her back on the ground, turning around you could see Scarlet was stirring awake as well while the fight seemed to have no end.

“Y/N…” You turned to see Wanda’s eyes fluttering open, her green orbs looking back at you with sadness and tenderness that had your heart beating a tad bit faster.

“Hey, are you alright?” You leaned in but Wanda looked away helping herself up, you tired to assist her but your body froze for a moment unsure on how to proceed with the woman sitting before you.

“I…I am a little sore.” She replied, her eyes never leaving the form of Scarlet, Wanda furrowed her brows glancing at her hands then back at the other woman. “She…she is…Scarlet Witch.”

Her words trembled as she pronounced them, her face lowered thinking to herself knowing full well your attention was on her. She remembered the moment she had separated herself from the legend, the words of Agatha had haunted her at that moment when she realized there was something inside her giving her powers a deeper meaning. She had hated that idea, and the world that had been created out of it.

When Wanda finally dared to look up she found herself looking into your eyes. Her heart stirred with emotion, the words that wanted to pour out of her mouth entangled around her throat for she knew it was not the time for a heart-to-heart conversation. She wished everything had turned out different, but after her confrontation with Agatha and everything she had discovered whiled trapped in that reality she knew what she needed to do.

“Can you…help me up?” She asked shyly, you nodded curtly stretching your hands for her to take them.

She was cold under your touch, and a little sweaty.

Her cheeks coloured pink, and her eyes glanced everywhere but at you. You felt a piercing pain going through your chest, but you ignored it while helping the other woman up. For a brief moment, you thought she could walk on her on until Wanda’s legs trembled and almost gave up on her. You caught her just on time, her body pressing against yours making your traitorous heart stopped for a brief moment.

“How convenient, Wanda.” Scarlet was on her knees; she had sweat falling down her face breathing hard and glaring at the two of you though her eyes were completely focused on Wanda. “You…you don’t do nothing, yet you get to be with her.”

Wanda tensed in your arms, she took a deep breath while pushing you away taking one step at a time until she was standing before Scarlet. You lifted your eyes to see America just as focused on the two women as you were, the sound of the fighting was till rumbling in your ears but it was almost impossible to pay attention to something else that wasn’t the scene playing out in front of you.

Wanda held herself up, conscious of the hatred inside the eyes of Scarlet.

Inside her own eyes.

“We don’t get to be with her.” Wanda mumbled dropping her shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes as she spoke. “I’ve been trying to make amends but I just…”

“You always failed, and you make it worse.” Scarlet spat out lifting her chin in defiance, her position on the ground was not an inconvenience. If anything, it gave her the power that Wanda couldn’t show at the moment.

“I tried to reach out to her, to make her world and mine…to…”

“I know.” Wanda offered a weakened smile, looking out of the corner of her eyes she could see you had your attention on the both of them. “I tried to do the same. I just…I can’t do it alone, and I’m tired of failing every time. I don’t…”

Wanda swallowed down her tears, she leaned in lifting her left hand until she was cupping Scarlet’s cheek. Red mist appeared in Wanda’s hand, and soon her eyes as much as those of Scarlet were shining brightly.

“It hurts so much.” Scarlet said letting the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just…

“I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to be without her.” Wanda finally said her own tears falling down her face.

You clenched your jaw, looking away for a moment while your chest felt a myriad of butterflies fluttering inside.

“But I can’t keep fighting alone, or divided.” Wanda stated, she wiped away Scarlet’s tears before adding. “I think we need to be one, you saw just how powerful we are together and…”

“You need to fix this, or we would never…”

“I know, but this may not end the way you want it.”

Scarlet drifted her attention to you, her eyes found those of yours and in there you could read everything you had been so afraid to interpret the first time. There was pain and sadness, emotions that broke into her heart in ways you could only imagine, and then there was love. You looked away stepping back under the intensity of such a stare, you missed the broken smile on Scarlet’s face and the defeat she wore while facing Wanda again.

“I know, I think we will cope when the time for that comes.” Wanda nodded in understanding; her hands gleamed brighter than ever while Scarlet placed her hand on top of hers.

“I promised you I won’t give up.”

“Good, then let’s do this.”

The crimson mist grew around them glowing with a bright, red light making you trembled under the intensity of the magic. You could see America kneeling down, her eyes going wide open as they stare the scene unfolding before her eyes.

Wanda and Scarlet were no longer two different entities.

Standing before you was a single woman, her head was adorned with a red crown that made match with the bodice and the black leggings. Wanda stood there with magic coming from her hands, her eyes a deep shade of red that gathered the power you had always known she had in her. The woman stood still for a moment, she glanced at her body and her hands before her face lifted to stare at you.

You tried to hide your expression, your lips parting to speak but not words came out. Wanda hesitated before nodding her feet moving slowly until she turned around making her way to the fight.

“Is she gonna be okay?” America stood right beside you, squirting at the woman now using her magic to help her counterpart in the fight against Agatha.

“I think so…” You trailed off finally realizing that even though the both of them had finally become one, Wanda was still wearing the bruises and the exhaustion on her face.

“Are you okay?” America asked quite concern, you turned to her offering a half smile.

“I will be.” You sighed scratching the back of your neck. “Stay here and be careful.”

“What are you gonna do?” The teen asked slightly scare, you offered her a half smile turning towards the fight that was a tied between the Wandas and Agatha.

“What we came to do, just stay out of trouble and be ready to help us go back home, okay kiddo?”

America doubt there was anything she could do, but she didn’t contradict you. With a single nodded of her head she watched as you ran towards the fight, your shadows already creating a protective barrier around you and Wanda. Something, America though, you probably were not aware of.

_____________________________________________________________

Loki rolled his eyes once more, he was tired of hearing the fight going on in the meeting room while he stood by the window waiting for the right moment to intervene.

The world outside was highly active, Monday had always been one of the busiest days in the calendar and that day was not the exception. The young god leaned forward, his fingertips touching the window while his eyes observed the golden and green lights of the timelines. His eyes soon fell upon the one he did not recognise, a red line that he could not tamper with but that he was certain contained the answers to the questions everyone in the room were posing.

Loki turned around his eyes finding those of Billy who had not leave his side ever since Pietro brought him into the Avenger’s Tower. The young boy had his eyes narrowed, his hands playing with invisible threats only he could see.

For a brief moment, Loki stood there observing the child with growing curiosity. Billy was tapping the air with his fingertips, concentrated in something only visible to him. Loki frowned with his mind already forming an idea of what exactly was happening.

“Billy, what are you doing?” The question was low enough for the child to hear it but not for the rest of the room to notice it.

Billy lifted his face this time around his eyes went wide opened showing off the innocence of his age, but also the brightness he had inherited from both his mothers.

“Mommy always says to follow my instincts.” There was conviction in his tone, his hands tapping still as if waiting for something.

“And, what are they telling you?” Loki knelt to be on the same height of the child, Billy tilted his head creasing his brows before answering.

“Uncle Loki, momma and mommy need my help…look!”

Loki looked in the direction Billy was pointing to, he gasped with his eyes wide open and a smile forming on his lips.

“Billy you are a genius.” Billy offered a timid smile glancing at Loki shyly.

“Really?”

“Yes, and I think thanks to you we are going to be able to help Wanda and Y/N.” Loki could see the excitement in the little boy, he couldn’t help but smile back.

Without giving to much attention to the room, Loki sat right beside Billy closing his eyes before letting his magic to spread around. Billy was slightly confused at first, he had continued working on invisible threads trying to get into contact with them. Now there was something different, with his uncle sitting beside him Billy could sense the magic. He pressed his lips together before sitting down and, imitating Loki, he closed his eyes and just went with his instincts.

_____________________________________________________________

Whatever power she had tried to drain from Wanda and even Scarlet was no longer active to give her the stamina or even the strength to keep up with the fight. She was not even up to sustain the world she had created by tampering on the Chaos magic she could barely tolerate.

Wanda Maximoff gathered her power while circling the woman in front of her, she could feel the hurt she had created for her counterpart had reached out beyond the boundaries of the multiverse and it was something she would not tolerate. Beside her she could sense Y/N, a close shadow that was ready to jump in when necessary to offer protection and support; Wanda couldn’t help but smile.

“You won’t win.” Agatha tried to put up with a fight, she tried to hold onto the last threads of power inside her to get into the fight but she could no longer hold onto her powers for far too long.

You came from behind her your hands wrapping around her wrists while your shadows covered her feet spreading through her legs and body. Agatha was struggling, her eyes going wide open just as she started chanting in a language you did not recognize. Wanda opened her eyes wide, she stepped closer spreading her arms and chanting just the same, the runes trembling right above your head just before a myriad of images surrounded you breaking the darkness before going completely white.

“NO!” Agatha let out a guttural exclamation, her elbow hitting you square in the face but whatever strength she had in her to fight was haltered by your counterpart finishing what you started.

Wanda knew at that moment why she had been feared by Agatha, the power that was held inside her sent electric waves through her body. The power concentrated on her hand, and soon a single jewel showed on her palm while her counterpart continued with the ritual. The runes appeared right above her head, and without any indications, she started chanting as well.

You stepped back falling on your ass, blood rolling down your nose just as you saw the black figured being swallowed by the jewel. There was a moment of flickering lights and then, it stopped. Both Wanda’s stood right in front of the other, the jewel resting comfortably on the hand of Y/N’s wife.

The jewel took into a purplish colour, falling to the ground with a single thump.

The world went silent.

The darkness around you grew, with the stars twinkling right above your head.

Everything was still, with only your hard breathing breaking the tension around your ears. Your body was aching, your mind filled with memories of the past and the present all of them pilling up to overwhelmed you line of thoughts. You closed your eyes trying to forget and wait for everything to be back the way it was in the last year.

But you knew it was just an illusion.

Your world had been shaken up the moment Wanda and America showed up at your doorstep. The fight with Agatha brought back the memories you had tried to forget, it brought with it the truths you were not ready to face. You had always thought that you could outrun your motions, but the world has always taught you this was not possible. Not for someone like you, and certainly not for someone like Wanda.

When you opened your eyes you saw Wanda, your Wanda staring at you, but before anything could be done or said her eyes rolled back passing out of exhaustion. You caught up to her on time, her body falling on yours your face a mask of pure concern just as you ensure she rested comfortably on the ground.

You knew everyone was looking at you, but you decided to ignore them while checking Wanda over to make sure nothing else happened to her.

“Are you alright?” The other Wanda came to you, her voice sent shivers down your back, you didn’t dare to lift your eyes for fear of revealing far too much.

Instead, you nodded taking deep breaths while feeling the ground under your knees, without thinking too much about it, your hand brushed Wanda’s hair tenderly. The attention you were giving to her was something you never thought you would do again. The woman standing beside you shifted her weight and soon she was sitting right beside you; this time around you did turn around only to see her staring at you with big, curious eyes.

“She is still unconscious, but I believe she is no longer two halves of the same person.” Wanda lifted her face to the sky, her lips parting slightly. “Her magic is still erratic, but I believe she would be okay.”

“What about Agatha?” Your question entangled in your throat, scrunching up your nose you decided to conceal your emotions not ready to face the conversation or to address the white elephant hanging around you two.

“She will be trapped in this jewel until you and her decided what should be done with her.” Wanda handed over the jewel, you pursed your lips in disgust before grabbing the artifact.

“The book she had with her, it is the Darkhold, isn’t it?”

“It is.” You nodded this time around locking your eyes with hers.

“Are you taking it with you?”

Wanda broke into an easy smile shaking her head, “it’s not mine but yours. It would be better off in your world, where it belongs.”

“It should be destroyed.” You leaned back resting your hands on the ground.

“It should, but that would be your prerogative not ours.”

Your eyes drifted around the place before they settled on America and Y/N, both of them were engaged in a heavy discussion and you could teel this was the moment America had been waiting for a very long time. The feelings of guiltiness and sadness had been quite evident in her when you two met, right now this was the chance the young woman was waiting for to make amends. To reach for forgiveness.

“So, any idea how we are going to leave this place?”

Wanda nodded leaning back until she pointed to America and your counterpart.

“She is ready to use her powers, I believe she is the only one that can help us right now.”

Not sooner had Wanda said this the world started to tremble, the light of the stars flickered until they disappeared one by one. You straightened up with Wanda standing up as soon as she noticed this.

“I guess…we should try it right now.” You stood up turning to glance at the darkened world, everything was coming in and out of reality with the ground shaking for small periods of time.

“It was a matter of time.” Wanda placed a hand on your forearm, you couldn’t help the tension on your muscles the other woman softened her features stepping closer. “You will be back, and she will need help to recover from this.”

“I know.”

“Are you ready for that?” The question caught you off guard, you knew what was expected of you and what you could do with the woman that had broken your heart at some point.

You could hide behind that excuse until the end of time, but it would run out of any validity at some point. Sooner or later, you knew you would have to face Wanda and decisions must be made. The Wanda standing before you softened her features, her words would made your mind pound with the imminent decisions you would need to make.

“How deep is your anger, and how deep goes your love for you to not face what your heart already knows?” Wanda leaned in and you found yourself in a embrace you didn’t know you miss. Her voice was just a whisper, but it was everything you needed at the moment. “I won’t tell you what to do, but I will tell you my love to follow your instincts. They had never failed you.”

America glanced around the group with a nervous smile.

She glanced at her hands then back at you and Y/N, the words of encouragement were ringing inside her head while she tried to gather the courage to move onto the next step.

“Just think about it, kiddo.” Y/N stated grabbing the hand of her wife, America almost winced at those words because her mind had been a myriad of thoughts since they delegate the task of going back home on her.

You fixed the unconscious woman in your arms, putting her closer to you while looking over at America. The young woman closed her eyes, ready to open the portal when Wanda stopped her.

“Wait, America.” The redhead stepped closer placing her hand on America’s shoulder. “Remember, it is more than opening a portal, is about opening the right one.”

“I know, I know…it’s just…easier said than done.” America pursed her lips, she took a deep breath closing her eyes.

“Then, let yourself be guided by your emotions and what you remember of the place you want to go to.” Wanda squeezed the shoulder of the teen tenderly, and for that brief moment America felt it.

It was vague but it was there.

The same kind of energy she had felt on Wanda and Y/N, it was familiar yet different. She had felt it when she first fell upon that universe, the twins had carried with them a strange kind of energy that seemed to engulf the best of Wanda and Y/N.

America closed her eyes and, without thinking to much, she followed the familiarity of that energy. Her mind bringing over the memories of her time in that land, finally easing out her fears and trusting in the women she had surrounding her.

The young woman clenched her fist, and with a single punch she opened the star-shaped portal.

All of them were ready to go home.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

[mmmichyyy]

🖤gallavich fic rec list🖤

i combed through my ao3 bookmarks and tumblr archive so here are some (but not all!) of my fave one-shots, wips, completed fics and tumblr ficlets i read & reread this year, ranging from newer fics to ones published in the past years ✨ there's almost 50 (!!) recs here so hopefully you'll find something new to read 🖤

check out the fic rec list i compiled last year!

(i didn't include the fics i've already mentioned in the last list plus the endless fics posted this year to avoid making this list longer than it already is, but if i had infinite time & space i'd include them all 🥰 onwards!)

one-shots:

seal my fate by allyasavedtheday (s2 canon divergence)

fix me up by biblionerd07 (Mickey has a lot of scars. Ian has a lot of feelings about those scars.)

shut the door and let go by @tellmegoodbye (s3 sleepover re-write)

these days, life is better by biblionerd07 (Ian realizes Mickey is the most romantic guy on Earth.)

in the romance section by kissteethstainred (When Ian moves to a new area, he starts to frequent the local bookstore. Eventually he begins to visit the bookstore for the owner more than the books themselves.)

icarus is online by @mishervellous (AnonMate is all everyone is talking about. Ian wants in on it.)

beginners by @bravemikhailo (Ian and Mickey meet the day they graduate college and all they've got is one night together.)

start again by allyasavedtheday (A little look at how Ian (and Mickey) comes to terms with his bipolar disorder.)

falling for you without a second look by xylodemon (s3 roadtrip)

for his honey by @squidyyy23 (ian’s impressed when his husband’s business savvy helps them expand their farm. and he's going to make sure he knows it.)

'tis the damn season by @sweetcresta (Ian comes home for Christmas and old habits die hard.)

sneaking in by @ianandmickeygallavich (Sneaking into a movie feels different. It shouldn’t, friends go to the movies, families go to the movies. But….Ian can’t help thinking about the fact that it’s a classic choice for a date.)

eighty-four by kissteethstainred (college/time-travel au)

if you love me, won't you let me know? by kissteethstainred (college au)

five times mickey wears ian's clothes and one time ian wears mickey's by @teatimeallovertown (A brief look at the journey of Mickey and Ian through the clothes they share.)

i'd follow your love down a dead end street by zoeplacid (Ian Gallagher wishes his soul mate was Mickey Milkovich, but the universe seems to have other ideas.)

wildfire by ilostyournumber (Ian is a bipolar stripper and Mickey is deep in the closet and they try not to tear each other apart.)

'til our compass stands still by biblionerd07 (Mickey just assumed they'd have smooth sailing from here on out. It never occurred to him being in prison together might be the easiest part of their relationship.)

wips:

sweetpea by @whatthebodygraspsnot (shapeshifter!cat!mickey! 🐈‍⬛)

reckoner by @thisdivorce (Ian Gallagher is married, stable, happy working as a Paramedic and trying to start a family, but a chance encounter with the foul-mouthed father of one of his patients—who has more ties to Ian than either of them know—threatens to blow it all up.)

selfless acts of the illegal variety by @abundanceofnots (The last thing Ian Gallagher thought he'd be at 19 is married—and to a grumpy Ukrainian bouncer called Mickey who's barely said ten words to him since they first met, no less. But when a rare chance at love knocks on your door, you don't just send the cute guy in dire need of a green card back to his homophobic father in Kyiv, right?)

your question has been received by @celestialmickey (a tumblr AU with a bit of a twist)

change like shifting shadows by @thisdivorce (priest!ian)

bound & free by @sunoficarus (magic/fantasy + marriage of convenience au)

a beginner's mind by @spoonfulstar (a collection of stories that take place after the events of ch. 27 of you'll never see us again)

the fine art of falling for you by @goodkwuestion (Teaching the Arts is hard enough, but mastering the art of falling in love might just prove downright impossible.)

paragraphs by @palepinkgoat (Ian has an opportunity to be a reading tutor for ex-convicts. He meets one in particular that catches his eye.)

things beyond mistake by @gallavichy (Ian, a high school teacher in need of a fresh start, returns to his childhood home after nearly 20 years to find himself once more sharing a lonely dirt road with Mickey, the boy he once knew and the man he's desperate to get to know.)

rebuilding (series) by freespiritedone (After almost 6 years in prison during which he was simultaneously built up and torn down, Mickey is free and embarking on a brand new life in New York City. Everything is different and yet some things never change - even if he wishes they would. Coming to terms with a new life while contending with the old is harder than anything he could have imagined. *long, slow burn)

completed:

technically by @annatrow (Ian Gallagher has grown up in the foster care system for most of his life, and he’s pretty sure he’s got his future figured out. That is until he falls for the bad kid who is about to change the entire course of his life.)

please don't say i'm going alone by biblionerd07 (Ian shows up at Mickey's wedding and asks him to run away together. Somehow, Mickey finds himself stupid enough to say yes.)

geometric progression (series) by romanticalgirl (angsty s4 au) *sidenote: i reread this all the time when i feel down just to feel even more depressed :')

these foolish games by @suzy-queued (A workplace rivalry becomes a love quadrangle. With laser tag.)

through the dawn (series) by spock (a semi-au set in a universe where mickey and ian didn't grow up in the same neighbourhood.)

SLOML (series) by @good-then-dont (short fics exploring Ian and Mickey’s own exploration of their relationship in a world where 3x6 never happens.)

ian the friendly ghost by @sunoficarus (ghosts au where Mickey thinks the house he moved in is haunted because the doors seem to close on their own and his shit somehow gets neat and tidy and Ian's just a very polite ghost who's got a bit of a crush on the adorable grumpy guy who's just moved in)

the little things give you away by kissteethstainred (When Ian first sees them, he thinks they’re twins. They both have similar looks, with pale skin, dark hair, and blue eyes. They act similar too—both of them are quiet, they fidget in the same way, and they make some of the same facial expressions. Ian wants to know them.)

my nine lovers by @annatrow (Secret Agents Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich find themselves working together multiple times over the course of ten years.)

mickey mantle vs. the t-rex by zoeplacid (angsty alternate s5)

broad-shouldered beasts by biblionerd07 (Six years after Mickey goes to jail, he's released on parole. He does his best to build a "normal" life and a relationship with his son while juggling the scars of his past.)

OSHA compliant by romanticalgirl (It's been two years since they broke up. And Mickey's got his life together. Which means it's about time for something to come along and screw it up.)

you make me feel human by dragona (In which Ian is a cold-blooded serial killer with a soft spot for a certain South Side asshole.)

tumblr ficlets:

fiction in the archives by @gardenerian (ficlets and 5+1 prompts)

what we talk about when we talk about love by @bravemikhailo (a collection of one-shots, ficlets and prompt-fillers originally posted to tumblr)

tumblr fics ✨ by @gallawitchxx (collection of ficlets, 5+1 prompts, scene fillers)

time travel au part one / two / three / four / five by @whatthebodygraspsnot (s1 ian & mickey meet their s11 selves)

who's more cold & happy husband weight gain by @iansfreckles (& all their drabbles!)

magic au & migraine ficlet by @arrowflier

& of course, check out @galladrabbles for a wide range of 100 word ficlets written by our talented community & @gallavichfanficlibrary for more specific rec lists ✨

[wrongcaitlyn]

been a long time since i did a snippet from my writing before the update bc i kept having to finish the chapter on the saturday right before posting, but!!! i actually managed to write ahead this weekend so here's a little snippet from the beginning of ch 2 of the fierrochase two-shot :)

“Oh, he’s thinking about him again,” Blitz’s voice pulls Magnus out of his thoughts, and he turns around to glare when—

“Thinking ‘bout who?” Alex pops up right behind Blitz and Hearth, the front strands of his green curls falling into his face. He’s wearing this neon green eyeliner that drags Magnus’ focus straight to his eyes, as if he wasn’t drawn there immediately in the first place. 

Blitz opens his mouth to speak, and Hearth is already signing a response, so Magnus, for once, hopes that Alex isn’t able to translate it. “Blitz,” Magnus quickly interrupts, elbowing said guy in the rib while signing for Hearth. “And how much of an idiot he is.” He tries to smile at Alex, and hates the butterflies that erupt in his stomach at Alex’s smug smirk.

“Bold words from you,” he quips, then turns to introduce himself to the Blitz and Hearth, which Magnus knows he hadn’t been able to do back in LA. Still, Magnus had basically given them the rundown of everything important and unimportant (not that there really was anything unimportant about Alex Fierro) through various ramblings when suggesting music to play at the Chase Space. He used to very rarely recommend music, usually wanting to let the kids choose something comforting to them—but that didn’t extend to the office room where he, Blitz, Hearth, Mallory, and the rest of the crew worked, in which Jack usually liked to play whatever was on top of Pop Radio and sing along. Loudly. 

Magnus can’t help but smile watching Alex interact with his friends, who thankfully drop the teasing. For now. 

“We’re gonna need to head backstage soon,” Alex tells them when he checks the time, a bit after Nico has left the stage. “You guys wanna watch from a different angle this time?”

I’m sure Magnus wants to, Hearth signs, making Magnus narrow his eyes. 

Blitz responds, “I think Hearth and I’ll want to stay in the ADA section. But Magnus has always wanted to watch a show from backstage!”

“Wh—”

“Oh, really?” Alex grins in his direction. “Come on, then!” He promptly grabs Magnus’ hand—his hand, this time, not his wrist, fingers interlocked and everything—and leads Magnus around the barricade. 

[sarandipitywrites]

writing patterns tag game

rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

thanks for the tag, @adhdavinci! let's pretend this wasn't sitting in my drafts for a month 😅 go check out their lines here

passing the tag along (with no pressure) to @i-can-even-burn-salad, @macabremoons, @fanged-writer, @innocentlymacabre, @winterandwords, and an open tag for anyone who wants to share

sooo I'm gonna have to break some rules here bc I don't think I've even worked on 10 fics recently, much less posted them (not more than, like, a snippet at a time, anyway). so i'll start with what i've actually posted, then just... fuck it, we ball?

yeah that sounds good.

'Just stuff my dad into a bag,' she'd said. 'He'll fit, of course he will. Have you seen how small he is? He's bluffing, he won't really turn you into a fern,' she'd said. (Dead Roots, Dark Water, Ch 1)

For all his research, Daxter had never figured out who'd designed the Krimzon Guard Fortress. And it was a good thing, too, because if he ever did, he would shoot the architectural anarchist in the foot, run them over with a hellcat, and throw them in the port. Then he'd fish them out again just so he could shoot them in the face. (DRDW, Ch 2)

Magic and blood sit heavy on V’s tongue. (Untitled Cyberwitch WIP, Ch 1)

The silence amplified everything: the squeak of rusty nails in the boards beneath Luka's feet; the rat-a-tat rattle of the loose panes in the windows; Jules's unsteady breathing as they tapped on their phone; Luka's own stammering heartbeat. "I don't think we should be here." (I Am Alive)

I have always been here. (A Haunted Home)

'The monster is not your enemy.' A half-crushed note, faded and bled, written in his own hand: the only familiar thing in the room where Lienzo had awakened. (The Art of Empty Space (V2), Ch 1)

It was the pain that woke him. (TAES (V1), Ch i-don't-know,-i-didn't-section-this-thing-into-chapters)

The air coated his lungs in a thick layer of smog and exhaust, vapor and sweat and noise, cacophonous clanging competing for his attention. Engines, alarms, voices. Jak let them all in, let them bury him in a landslide of stimulation. It wasn't stale, silent, recirculated air. It was alive, and so was he. (DRDW, Ch 3)

Metal shrieked against metal. Violet paint streaked across the green of his speeder. Screaming. Crackling eco slugs reached out with staticky tendrils as they whizzed by. (DRDW, Ch 10)

The ocean breeze brought with it decay: rotting seaweed infested with sandflies; drowned fish with oil and eco caked in their gills; algae and mildew and rotting wood. Its icy fingers trailed goosebumps down his skin, cooled the blood beneath. (DRDW, Ch 13)

so, if we're looking for patterns, i think it looks like... i really like character voices; starting en media res; and starting with some really vivid descriptions. anything you guys see that i missed?

[windupaidoneus]

tell me about the bloodsport wlws

the bloodsport wlws. (clasps hands together) let me use my brain oh i need crub to shut the fuck up rq ok there we go

so. philly. carina. the moon & stars. the winnars!!!! 🎉 of that one niche poll tournament thing. carina is a 20something college student who's a prodigy in all things magic but specifically has an affinity for space magic, & her fursona is a purple gryphon also.

^ her fursona (drew this before i saw a post on how to draw beaks. youll have to forgive me)

prone to overworking starself & does it regularly... from a regular human's perspective at least. star is physically disabled but also thanks to stars extremely potent magic star can just do a lot more than the average person, & is in a constant state of levitation to avoid putting strain on stars body. star is always going around helping as much as star can provided star can do it with magic.

this ^ is both a good & bad thing, as she is also, as you may have heard, a bloodsport tournament participant! she kind of. needs her magic for that. & well she keeps jobbing really badly despite being as powerful as she is. because of how much she uses her magic on the regular. the reason it's a good thing is that her magic can overflow & while there hasn't yet been a point where it did it's not fully clear what will happen if it does.

see her hair? it's kind of like a gauge. you can tell how she's doing on magic reserves depending on how "filled up" it is. the more purple, the more powerful! & what happens if her hair is completely purple? philly really wants to know

design note that was Just added too but her eyes change colour depending on her magic reserves as well. this is partly bc i keep fucking up which eye is purple & which eye is yellow so now both can be & they can be both at once even. because i have knowledge of heterochromia <- the central heterochromia haver

all in all she should probably not be doing bloodsport at least at the current moment when the stakes are so facking high in AA. in combat situations she kind of shuts down her ability to emote & speak properly because of how stressed it makes her so she's a bit of a bitch. um. she did cause an existential crisis once & felt really bad about it. sorry lucian. (he got better they're friends now)

all this. is necessary to introduce philly. bc philly is carina's childhood friend & philly was created because @greenshi loved carina so much that he had to give her a gf. you may thank him forever for cosmic yuri

ophelia "philly" delphia (why does she get a full name & carina doesnt have one? um. i didnt actually create carina i just voiced her & then elaborated a fuckton on her character ask @royaltyfreeramblings not me *sexily relinquishes responsibility*) is an epic & awesome werewolf who's constantly in an inbetween state of human & wolf. so a wolf furry yeah. moon goes on road trips with other lesbians* & a wet sack of meat who's having cringefail yaoi with some guy over there. moon is very confident but also happens to be carina's biggest hypeperson, which i find very sweet considering she was conceptualised as a rival & they completely skipped that stage LMAO

green would be a lot better placed to talk about philly. & they unfortunately have not interacted on screen in canon as much as i'd like due to the nature of bloodsport tournaments & also carina's jobbing adventures. but i love them a lot & i hope philly can be the one person to finally convince carina to get a damn wheelchair girl stop using magic for everything constantly you get so fucked up when it's depleted!

oh yeah there's also stuff that i don't know if i can share bc it hasnt been revealed to The Audience yet but they are very dear to each other & like. among other things. both of them have kept pictures of them as kids together even throughout all the time they spent apart. bc they did lose sight of each other for many years before reuniting. & idk i just think they're so cute & sweet. i love it when characters love each other did you know that

[hauntedjpegcollection]

rendezvous

wc: 6438 au: valorant au ch: xavier, benji

Xavier doesn’t like coffee, so he orders himself some overly sugared latte that’s more milk than anything else. It’s pale and frothy and the green haired girl at the counter smiles brightly at him, has to tilt her head back just a bit and there’s a rose color to her cheeks when she does. He sticks a five dollar bill into the jar next to the card reader that says FUNDS FOR NEW PLAYGROUND because apparently in the last attack, the one down the street had been demolished. This cafe had withstood, but the neighborhood wasn’t all that big. The sense of community was nice.

He hadn’t been here for that particular invasion, but he’d heard details. Mercenaries talked—a lot. It had been messy work and he’d known his extraction crew could have done better. Usually, anyway, but he wasn’t the one in charge. He isn’t even there for extraction today, isn’t even with his crew. All things considered, Xavier shouldn’t be here, not this quaint little coffee shop on the corner of a street, regular civilians buzzing about. A man reads a newspaper, a headline stamped across that says WHEN WILL THEY STOP?

He was being selfish. Maybe reckless—definitely reckless. Xavier wasn’t used to the former, all too used to the latter when it benefited Kingdom. He didn’t usually tug his leash, though.

Not like this.

“Seat taken?”

“Does it look taken?” Benji snorts. He doesn’t even look over his shoulder. Instead, he continues tapping a ball point pen rhythmically against a small, pocket sized sketchbook. The edges of it are battered, the page currently open filled with different small but well done drawings. The style is messy but pretty. Xavier skates his eyes away from the page—it feels invasive to be looking at it.

Invasive, he thinks, heh, laughing to himself.

That gets Benji’s attention. Maybe doesn’t like the idea of a stranger (is he a stranger?) standing behind him, laughing. He turns in his chair, looks up with a nasty expression that turns bewildered at the sight of Xavier. His lips part, jaw dropped. His eyes are pretty, widened like that.

“Sorry I’m late,” Xavier sighs dramatically as he slides himself into the empty chair across from Benji. He throws his long legs out on either side of the table, puts his cup down and drapes his arm around the back of the chair. “Traffic, you know?”

“What are you doing?” Benji leans forward with his hissing whisper. He’d picked a corner table at the cafe, no one around him. They’re next to a window overlooking the street, but it’s frosted glass so everything looks surreal and feels warped, far away and insignificant. It’s like that for Xavier, who isn’t from this world. Sometimes, even the air feels different. This was an upside down world, where he existed out there with his sisters but he wasn’t this. Mercenary. Man responsible for a leveled playground.

Sometimes he thought of breaking the glass of that other him.

Xavier takes a sip of the latte, finds it buttery smooth and warming. He raises eyebrows at Benji.

“What?”

“What d’you mean what? How did—why are you—” As Benji sputters over his sentences, Xavier leans in with elbows to the table. He takes up a lot of space. Benji leans back an inch or two. His hands are wrapped around his own coffee—something iced with no milk. There’s condensation still on it, which wets his fingertips in a way Xavier is acutely aware of. He has broad hands. Sparse hair peeks from underneath the length of his sweatshirt, at the tops of his wrist.

“I’m supposed to be doing recon—but right now?” Xavier smiles. He can feel how crazy it must look. Once, he’d probably had a nice smile. Now it’s all just teeth. The stretching of skin across his face. “We’re just two guys getting coffee, right?” Then he leans back once more. His fingers tap on the wooden table. There are rings of coffee stains, nicks here and there along the edges. It feels worn in, used in the best sort of way. This shop is a staple in the neighborhood. Xavier hopes it never becomes a casualty. Benji is a regular to this exact table. Xavier’s watched him sit here three times now—this fourth being the only time someone has sat down with him.

“You look good in civvies, by the way.”

Benji glances down at himself. It’s not a lie—his leather jacket is worn with age at the elbows, at the seams and shoulders. It’s lost luster, is faded and well loved (he’s worn it every day Xavier has watched him). It fits him, it suits him, it looks like something that he’d pull off a hanger everyday to wear. Benji must get cold easily, because the hood of a sweatshirt pokes out, the sleeves longer than the leather. Something about the style makes him look younger, somewhat boyish. It’s all black, even his jeans which have split at the knees, little strings of fabric clinging together against dark brown skin.

Xavier’s fingers twitch when blush spreads over Benji’s defined nose and cheekbones.

“You followin’ me?” he finally asks, quiet with his brows knit together in a menacing sort of look. Not angry—wary.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Out your fuckin’ mind then, mate?”

“Yeah, a little,” Xavier repeats, tilting his head back and forth, scanning the cafe once more. He cannot help himself from being slightly alert. He is an intruder after all. If Benji called for reinforcements… “I’ve only watched you, like, three times. Which I don’t think qualifies as stalking yet.”

He groans as he stretches arms above his head, trying to relax. He’s tired from being awake all night in a room with a sniper rifle trained on a building he already knew was too secure to get into, tired because of the shift from his world to this one (it always sort of felt like his bones were being compressed and stretched and shoved back into his skin, it never felt right). He catches Benji’s eye roaming and selfishly enjoys the attention. Stretches further, languid and pleasant, arms out above his head, sweater pulling up on his stomach. An painful burst of heat makes his stomach hurt when Benji’s eyes flit down and then immediately away. He scowls. The expression isn’t unattractive.

“Tryin’ to collect a thank you, then? You were actin’ mad fixing me up twice now. Don’t owe you for that.” Benji takes a sip from his iced coffee, licks his lips as his expression continues to sour into something delightfully pouty. Xavier’s memories of this face are tarnished somewhat. Sweat and blood and dirt and gunpowder. He doesn’t regret this, no matter how idiotic it was, how dangerous it was.

“How’s your hip then?”

“Had worse.”

“You’ll have to show me the scar someday,” Xavier flirts shamelessly. It makes Benji’s glare harder, narrows his sleepy eyes. Wary still, full of distrust but—tension doesn’t return to his shoulders. They stay pleasantly rounded, a bit mopey in his posture as he sits there. The ball point pen has nearly rolled off the edge of the table, but he makes no moves to get it. Xavier lightly taps the edge of his boot into Benji’s chair.

“This is kind of nice, huh?”

“Had worse,” Benji slowly repeats, the corners of his lips twitching into something almost like a smile. Xavier feels an intense burst of pride, sunny inside his ribcage.

It’s obvious why he keeps trying, isn’t it? Benji is good looking. Very good looking. He’s combat medic strong, thickly built with defined arms and legs. He has nice hands, a handsome nose and heavy brows, a stare that makes Xavier’s insides feel weak. His face had been burned into Xavier’s memory, had lived inside his thoughts ever since that first day. And then the second, finding him bloody once more. Sometimes, when his mind was otherwise going someplace dark, he’d let himself sink into those memories instead. Even if they were blood and dirt and gunpowder tinged, an empty gun smacking his shoulders, a moody medic snarling at him.

There can’t be any other reason he tries than sexual attraction. It scares him otherwise.

“This is also nice,” Xavier says, tapping the edge of Benji’s coffee. “Now I know what kind of coffee you like.” He takes a sip of his own, as if punctuating the sentence. Now I know something about you. Benji stares at him, eyes on the cup as it lowers to the table. He clears his throat and adjusts himself in the wooden seat. The ambient sound of others around them, drinking and talking and the workers making coffee make them feel pressed closer together. Finally, Benji lifts a hand and gestures.

“How do y’take yours then, yeah?”

“It’s a latte.” Xavier uses two fingers to slowly push it into the circle Benji has clearly outlined around himself. “Wanna taste?”

“No,” Benji scoffs with a curl of his lip.

“It’s really good.”

“Puttin’ milk in coffee is a crime, mate.”

“It’s sugar cookie flavored. C’mon. You know you wanna taste sugar cookie flavored coffee, man. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, really. It’s off the menu next week—”

“You’re not goin’ t’shut up, are you?” Benji is halfway to another grin when he reaches for the cup. “They pay you by the word over on your side?” Xavier’s eyes are narrowed to the single act of Benji lifting the cup. It pauses at the edge of his lips, and for the first time since he’s started this game (and maybe for the first time in a long, long time even outside this), Xavier feels sort of hot around the ears and cheekbones. He’s not usually one for that—he is good at flirting. Or, he’s disastrous at it, but he never has to put that much effort into it. His eyes flick up to meet Benji’s as he takes a small sip.

“You’re not a quiet guy yourself.” He reaches over to take the cup back and almost wishes they’d have one of those adorable movie moments. A brush of fingertips, an electric spark. But that moment never happens and instead, Xavier is slumping back in his chair, staring at the lip of his cup. “You were going to talk yourself to death, last time.”

“Tactic. Waitin’ on reinforcements. Had you real cornered, Xavier.”

He fakes a shiver to play scared, but there is a very real part of him that does feel shaken, because Jesus Christ he loves the way Benji’s just said his name. The first time he’s heard it, since they’ve exchanged them. He realizes that they’re both smiling at each other and it makes that shiver deepen. Too much time has passed. He wonders if they could ever invent technology that pauses the world—they’ve already invented something that lets you hop them. Why not something that gives you a little more time? What he wouldn’t do for a little more time.

Xavier fishes into his pocket and then fully hunches over the table again. This time, Benji doesn’t retreat as far, or as quickly.

“You think I’m insane don’t you?”

“Bit out of it, might say.”

He slides a folded piece of paper forward until it slowly disappears beneath the sketchbook. Benji can decide whether or not to look at it or throw it away (or give the information up to someone who will use it to kill him), but Xavier feels safer with it tucked out of sight. His heart beat has suddenly found it’s way into his throat and a certain sort of dizziness makes his ears ring. Xavier had not known for sure if he was going to do that, when he first sat down. He’d half thought all that would come from this was a small respite. Worst case scenario, maybe he’d be dead. But the piece of paper if out of his pocket now. It’s underneath Benji’s sketchbook.

It’s in enemy hands.

“Three short whistles, I’ll know it’s you.” Xavier moves quickly then. He stands from the chair, hands shoved into his jacket pockets so they don’t betray him. They shake with anticipation. Excitement.

He smiles down at Benji, who looks, miraculously and hilariously, lost for words.

—

Xavier hates the sort of music that Crowley puts on. It’s this velvety soft jazz music that feels uninspired and meant more for an elevator ride than background music to sex. He suspects that she puts it on half because she likes it and half because she knows he doesn’t. Crowley is like that; he is not twenty-four anymore, deluded into thinking he was special to her, or that she even likes him. But even fully aware, he still finds himself next to her, on her couch with a manila folder in his hands.

Sweat is still cooling on both of them. The music is grating his nerves, but she’d made dinner. Some sort of pasta meal that had tasted a little too fancy for him. He’s sated, in a way.

Xavier bites his finger as he reads, a strange habit he’d picked up as a kid and never let go. It’s not gnawing with an intent, he’s merely resting his teeth against a knuckle bone as he scans the pages of information Crowley has given him. Xavier eats it, consumes everything there is, like a hungry dog on the side of the road pawing roadkill. Because Crowley doesn’t like him and maybe he doesn’t even like her, but there is a mutual benefit to this gross relationship they’ve built over the last four years.

Crowley likes sex and she likes feeling in control. Xavier likes sex and he likes information. If he can have any say in what happens in Kingdom, even this little bit, then he feels important. No small part of him weeps at the idea of being important, being needed, or necessary. He feels like he can keep Lark safe. Ben safe. He can influence Crowley to move pawns in different directions.

He wasn’t smart. But he was logical.

“Go with this one,” he says, tugging a paper out and putting it atop the others. “You’d risk your radiants with the other maneuver. It’s stupid—Stiles lost her lieutenant in the last invasion. She’s not thinking clearly and won’t make the best decisions.”

Crowley’s fingers move into his sweaty, messy hair. Nails drag down his skull, his flesh pebbling to goosebumps, shoulders shivering as her hand draws down to the nape of his neck. Her perfume is dark and overbearing. She taps a finger a few times as if contemplating. Her salt and pepper hair falls across her face, skimming his skin as she looks at the paper. He’d not bothered to put his shirt back on, even though her penthouse is kept impossibly chilly.

“It’s a shame Lark is still recovering, or I could put your team on point, couldn’t I?”

No, he wants to snap at her. Sometimes he wants to bite her just to get her to shut up. He thinks she’d like it too much.

“He only got hurt because you didn’t listen to me last time.” His tone is clipped, voice level but that hint of anger bubbles at the surface. He tries to remain calm in her presence, because his anger had never scared her. And that scared him somewhat. Anger had always been his best defense. It made people leave him alone. He was big and strong and when he was scary, people backed off.

Crowley leans in, plucking the folder from his hands and tossing it onto the glass coffee table in front of them. Empty beer bottles and her glass of wine, thrice refilled, sit there as well. He feels her shifting to get into his lap and so he leans back to accommodate her. Because, well, there wasn’t really anything else Xavier was going to do. And his hands find her soft waist just as her mouth seals over his.

—

“You promised.”

“I said I was sorry—”

“Stop saying sorry, it doesn’t fix anything!”

Xavier has to pull his cell phone from his ear, because Tess screams so loud that it crackles. The city sounds around him are just as loud, just as cruel to his already aching head. The beer had not gotten him drunk, had only given him a migraine that was needling behind one of his eyes. Xavier didn’t suffer headaches that often, didn’t know what to do when his entire skull felt close to exploding with the pressure. He digs a heel into his eye as he walks the lonesome sidewalk. A newspaper flutters by, caught by the breeze. WHEN WILL THEY STOP? He swallows and clears his throat. Attempts diplomacy with his sister.

“How mad is she, then?”

“She’s not mad,” Tess seethes. “She’s—she was expecting you to be there. That’s all, okay. She was—Xavier it’s a big deal. Okay? PhD? She’s going to be—what is that, like a doctor?”

“Can you be a doctor for writing?”

He relaxes when he hears her laugh, even though it’s strained at the edges. Xavier presses on down the sidewalk, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s cold out, but just barely. The wind nips at him here and there, but it feels nice. A reminder that he’s flesh and blood and real and alive. He passes by shops that are both closed and open, some of them dark and some of them lit up, calling to him to stop and rest and drink more or eat or do anything that wasn’t argue with his sister.

“I’ll call Emily,” Xavier finally says. “You know last time I tried to send her a gift card she yelled at me for like an hour.”

“It was an Amazon gift card.”

“The hell is wrong with Amazon?”

Xavier knows he’s going the wrong way toward home, but that doesn’t make much difference to him. He lets himself be guided, his eyes tired as they glance up at a smoggy, starless sky.

“Her boyfriend was there, by the way.”

“She has a boyfriend?” His voice goes deep and angry, reverberating from his chest. For a brief moment, when he thinks of Emily, he can only see her as the shy and awkward thirteen year old she’d been before he’d joined the military. Standing there with big, pleading eyes. You’re joining a fascist regime, she’d said and he had no idea how a thirteen year old even knew the words fascist or regime. All he’d known at thirteen was video games and comic books. But Emily had always been the smartest Wolffe. He’d envied her for that.

Only she’d turned twenty five earlier that year and he was still envious of her in a lot of different ways.

“Tanner. Which—I already know you’re going to say—”

“That’s a douchebag name.”

“He was very polite. Dad approves.” Tess says it lightly, but Xavier reads the tone. Dad approves. Dad approves because Emily is going to college and she’s going to be someone and she’s going down the right paths but most of all, Emily isn’t gay. He doesn’t detect envy or pain in Tess’ voice, but he knows if she were there, if they were in his shitty slum apartment, if they were sharing a joint together on his broken down couch, they’d both have the same expression. Defeat.

When he reaches Lark’s apartment building, he punches the code in so angrily, he thinks one of the buttons stick.

“I’ll call her.”

“And me. More often, thanks.”

It makes him smile as he passes through the lobby, the bank of mailboxes, into a dingy elevator that looks like it’ll break any day. It’d not even been functional when Lark had moved in, but he’d had such a shine of excitement on his sweaty face as they carried boxes of things up for him that Xavier couldn’t bring himself to disparage the place.

“I will,” Xavier says in a softer voice, shoulder to the wall of the elevator. It crawls higher and higher. “I love you, Tess.”

“Love you, Xavier.”

—

He tried not to make a habit out of showing up randomly. It had gone bad, once before when Xavier had opened the door to Lark’s bedroom and a woman had been asleep next to him. Even if it was a story that had made Benny laugh so hard he’d nearly pissed himself in his snipers perch, Lark hadn’t spoken to him directly for an entire week after. That had been the longest stretch of time they’d not talked since Xavier had picked him up from Kingdom headquarters two years ago.

Now, though, Xavier knows Lark will be alone.

When he sneaks into the mans bedroom and finds him laying on his back with an arm across his face, the bed is empty beside him. There’s a cast on his other arm, something slim and medical, high tech that was promoting faster healing than anything that was capable before that valuable mineral they were desperately fighting for. It sits on his stomach, which rises slowly and heavily with sleep. Xavier tries not to judge the absolute mess of Lark’s bedroom. Clothes strewn everywhere, plastic water bottles lining the dresser. He toes off his combat boots and attempts a silent approach as he crosses to the bed.

“You creep,” Lark says sleepily. His arm doesn’t move off his face. Xavier has never been able to sneak up on him before; he isn’t sure if Lark is a light sleeper by nature, or if prison had done that to him.

“Hows your arm?”

“Broken,” he replies dully, lifting the cast. Then he lets it fall back to his stomach. Xavier strips himself of his jeans and then lifts the blankets at the edge of Lark’s bed to crawl under. Despite the mess he seems to keep, his bedspread and blanket always smell of fresh laundry. Xavier settles into the bed and sighs, hands tucked underneath his head. His eyes have settled to the dark, and a cut of the outside night city light crisscrosses the ceiling. It’ll be morning in just a few hours.

“Emily has a boyfriend.”

“Okay.”

“Named Tanner.”

“She has awful taste.”

“Well, she liked you, so yeah.”

Xavier whuffs a sound when an elbow lands on his stomach. But both men snicker at least a little bit. Xavier falls asleep better, listening to Lark’s even, safe breathing directly next to him.

—

Three distinct, short whistles pull him to a complete stop at the entrance into a crumbling office building. The floor has split somewhere to his left, pipes burst and draining down into the floor below. Lights flicker a above him. Xavier slowly creeps his way into the next room. There’s a pause and then—three whistles—and—

“Fuckin’ hell, gives a note and doesn’t show—dickhead that one, should—”

“Should what?”

Benji’s rifle snaps up automatically. A red dot appears on Xavier’s chest and then immediately it skitters away and across the wall and then to the floor. Then disappears entirely when Benji thumbs it off.

Amongst all the rubble of what was once some random building, Benji looks stark and real. His uniform is gray, washed out amongst the beige and the crumbling plaster walls and yet, he is so there. His dark skin peeks at his throat, at the edges of his wrist. Benji lifts to yank his helmet off and his hair goes everywhere. Little sprouting curls that are frizzy from sweat. His gloved hand pushes strands back. His eyes are still as tired as they have looked the past three times, but they are shiny. Bright and excited and—just for Xavier. They’re staring at each other for a long moment before the mercenary takes another step into the room.

Something feels crackly and intense inside of him. Outside of him. In the air. Between them.

“Jesus,” Xavier says and laughs loudly. “Holy shit. You showed up.”

“Yeah,” Benji replies in a hoarse whisper. “Well. Yeah.”

He isn’t really sure which of them makes the first move then—even when he replays the events later for himself, in bed. On his side, an hand tucked protectively around an old wounded rib, staring at the wall and trying to memorize every small detail. That one escapes him, who had moved forward first. Maybe it was both of them, maybe the toes of their combat boots had met awkwardly and they’d nearly stumbled because of that closeness. A gap bridged in just an instant—but he will not ever forget the way Benji’s hands had slid around the plate armor he wore and held him steady in front of him.

“Yeah, well, m’here.” He mumbles it, his dark eyes up on Xavier. He has to tilt his head back just for that alone. His chin is almost touching the black vest. “You wanted that, right?”

Little bursts of energy explode inside Xavier’s fingertips, making him feel shaky all the way to his bones. He hasn’t moved at all, except that step forward. Benji’s eyes darken. They lid even further, no longer just sleepy. This close, Xavier can see a defining scar down the inner corner—he feels instantly possessive of that light brown cut, feels insane for wanting to know every single detail about it. Who did it? Are they still alive? If they are, they wont be for long.

Xavier has no idea whats happening, Benji’s fingers sliding further into his vest and pulling them a notch closer. Was this the same man who threw a gun at him? Who leaned back at the coffee shop? Who blushed when he was complimented? Xavier’s mouth dries and his throat narrows, his breathing coming out short and staccato. His eyes blink rapidly in some sort of attempt to clear.

Arousal swells in his lower stomach, pools heat down his thighs, between his hips.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Xavier says, through numb lips and a thick tongue. He has no idea why, of all things, that comes out first. It seems to unbalance Benji for a minute, but only a minute before that dark, heady look returns to his eyes. And it becomes obvious what Benji thought this rendezvous was for.

And was he wrong?

Xavier had been thinking about it. He’d been thinking near nonstop about it. He had been imagining Benji, imagining shoving the sleeves of his shirt up and kissing the inside of his forearm and kissing more places than just that. He’d imagined bending Benji over something, revealing back muscles and brown skin. He’d been thinking about Benji so much it felt like other things were being pushed out. Replaced. He closed his eyes and went to sleep, wondering when he’d hear three short whistles.

But now that he’s there, standing there, looking down at him, all Xavier can think is, I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried. Every time I’ve seen you, there’s some new injury and I’m not good at taking care of those. I’m better at shooting a gun. There’s a reason they gave me sledgehammer. I’m glad you’re okay. Jesus, I’m so glad you’re okay.

Benji’s hand moves and touches the buckle to his bulletproof vest. The click is so loud it feels like gunshots.

“Wait,” Xavier’s hand wraps around Benji’s wrist.

The rejection in those pretty, dark eyes is so immediate and so painful that Xavier has to suck in a breath because it feels similar to the crack of a rib. The wrist he holds onto is wrenched away and the space put between them feels impossibly cavernous. Benji’s face twists into blistering humiliated anger. Xavier’s stomach goes cold and hollow, the tingling in his hands getting worse, more like buzzing anxiety. He lifts them, palms up and fingers spread.

“Wait—”

“What the fuck do you want?” He tries to reach out once more and Benji swipes his arm away and out of reach. He is stumbling backward, toward the way he came. No, don’t go. “What the fuck are you—Why did you tell me to come here, then? Are you fuckin’ with me, mate? Is this some game?”

“No, I swear, I—”

“Mental fuck, I swear, if you’re tryin’ somethin’ with me—”

“I’m not,” Xavier hisses, reaching out again and snatching Benji by the bicep. His fingers curl harder than he means. He’s well aware that Benji is more within reach of his rifle than he is. That he could easily put distance between them and Xavier would be nothing but a mist of blood across the beige walls. He swallows and his breathing is short pants, his hand holding even harder as he tries not to lose this moment.

“Then what?” Benji snarls. He’s not putting up a fight to get away. That hurt in his eyes had felt worse than a knife to the gut—it hadn’t said, but I wanted to have sex and you’re taking that from me, it had said, I thought you this and now you’re making a mockery of me and Xavier hated himself for letting Benji think that. Even for a second. “I’ll break your teeth, mate, I will—”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Green,” Benji replies so quickly, spitting it so furiously, that it stuns both of them to silence. The only real sound is some continued gunfight far, far in the distance from this building. Slowly, as Benji’s cheeks start to darken, Xavier’s dimple with a giant smile. He can feel it, crinkling his eyes. His hand loosens. Benji jerks out of his grasp. He doesn’t step away.

“Don’t let that go to your head. Liked it ‘fore I ever met you.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You have that look on your face,” Benji gestures with a gloved hand. Xavier tries to make his smile smaller, or at the very least, tries for something more humble. He doesn’t think it works. Benji continues to stare at him, his jaw working. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to get to know you,” Xavier admits. “I just—I wanted to hear your voice again. And talk to you.”

“Why?” He tries not to let the suspicion in Benji’s voice hurt, but a small part of him does feel lost on that sound. He palms the back of his neck. His hair sticks to his temples, helmet flat. Xavier runs a hand back through it, feeling as it sticks up everywhere with the path of his palm. Benji stares. When he goes to say something—he isn’t sure what, because he’s not sure he could explain—Benji cuts him off.

“What’s yours then?” he asks. “Red? Black? Somethin’ scary?”

“You think I’m scary?” Xavier asks, like its a compliment, putting a hand to his chest. Benji doesn’t answer. He makes a move as if to turn and Xavier reaches out, long fingers looping around Benji’s forearm. He half expects to be shaken off. He isn’t. “I like yellow.” He thinks of Lark’s brightly bleached hair, underneath the sun. The golden lab he’d had as a kid, wiggling against him and licking his face as he howled laughing, when life still felt pure and simple and small. It was a good color. It felt like home.

“My turn, then?” Benji asks. Xavier feels worry prick along his skin. Until, “Right. What kind of music you listen to?”

“Oh man,” Xavier laughs. He slowly backs up, still holding Benji’s forearm, pulling him along. “You’re not going to like my taste in music.” His back hits the wall and he slowly slides until he’s sitting, a nod to the side to indicate Benji should do the same. He’s unsure how much time they have in the same way he is exactly aware of how little time they have. Benji hesitates, but only for a second before he turns and lets his back hit the wall. He slides until he’s sitting. His knees bent, one arm around the leg, the other resting next to him. Like a silent approval for Xavier to still be holding onto him.

—

“No, fuck no,” Xavier laughs. Benji stands in front of him, a hand outstretched to help haul him up.

“You’re having a laugh at me, right? There’s no way you’re scared of horror movies. You’re—you.”

He feels weightless as a strong arm yanks him. Xavier stumbles just a bit, pats at his ass to get plaster dust off his tac pants. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Man, just because I’m a mercenary doesn’t mean I can handle Pennywise the Clown. I had nightmares for weeks. I called my sister like, nightly.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older.”

Benji’s brow quirks, his smile softening. It looks nice that way. Xavier wasn’t going to pretend that Benji’s dark, mean and sometimes snide little smile wasn’t nice (or that it didn’t shake something inside him like a dog with a bone). He liked that flutter of gentleness though, the smallest hint of a softer side.

Though Benji doesn’t say it out loud, he has a feeling there’s an older sister in his life as well. Something shared between them. They had shared probably too much together, on the floor, listening to some rumbling and fighting that they should have been engaged in. Xavier worries for Benji, that his absence might be noticed, but the medic assures him there’s plenty of them. He’d called himself canon fodder and had only stopped laughing at that when he’d met Xavier’s stormy, furious expression.

“Should go now,” Benji comments, looking out the wide blasted hole in the wall. The sky is turning shades of purple and pink. The fighting will be nearly over. His job will only just be starting. When he turns back, he seems startled to find Xavier close once more. There’s only really a few inches between them. Steel toed boots scuffing once more. The crackling underneath Xavier’s skin has returned. An urge to touch so strong it feels overwhelming.

“I wanted to do more than talk,” Xavier admits, quietly. Benji’s expression becomes unreadable and that worries him, so he lifts his hand and closes it around the same bicep he’d held far too tight earlier. He worries that he might have left a bruise. He almost hopes that he has, as selfish and disturbing as that is. The physical proof of him lingering on Benji’s skin—something inside stirs at that, but he stomps it down.

“Xavier,” Benji begins. His accent makes it sound like his name ends with an ‘a’. It’s so impossibly fucking endearing.

“I mean,” he laughs. His hand slides from bicep to the back of Benji’s shoulder. “I really, really wanted to give you a hug. Sometimes, when I look at you—Jesus, all I can think about doing is hugging you. You ever meet someone who just like needs a hug?”

Then he does, wrapping an arm around Benji’s shoulders. The other goes around his lower back. Xavier pulls them nice and snug together and for a brief second images all the gear gone. He doesn’t even necessarily imagine it sexually, but the idea of intimacy is almost sexual in the way he desires it so strong.

Benji feels like he might pull away. Until he doesn’t. Until his entire body goes slack and two hands touch Xavier’s lower back. Then they’re hugging, this awkward but lingering and affectionate embrace between two enemies. Xavier pulls them tighter still, his arms briefly shaking with how hard he grips them together. He doesn’t mean to but his nose slips into Benji’s hair. He tells himself it’s just because he’s so tall compared to the medic. But it isn’t true, especially as that nose slips down the side of Benji’s face.

As it continues into the crook of Benji’s shoulder. He feels the slide of sweaty skin across his cheek. Xavier sighs contently and then inhales roughly. The hands at his lower back dig in tighter. He sighs out contently, rubbing his face harder against where shoulder meets neck.

“God, you smell amazing,” Xavier groans happily. He squeezes their bodies together once more. He tries to memorize the way Benji smells underneath smoke and war and gear. He’s too tempted to put his tongue there and feel the pulse underneath his warm skin. He’d meant it. Benji needed a hug, he just needed to feel arms around him. Xavier knew it.

Because Xavier needed it too.

An explosion goes off, far too close to them.

They shoot apart. Benji’s hands scramble across himself for his rifle, until he swears and darts for it, as it rests propped up against the wall. Xavier doesn’t reach for his own, but he sighs heavily, head rolling back on his neck. He swears he can still smell Benji, he can still feel the warmth of his body.

“That was one of mine,” Xavier explains, almost sheepishly. He reaches up for the radio on his chest and briefly switches it on.

“Motherfucker—yeah, f-fuck you! Hah! Fuck all of you cocksuckers—”

He switches it off.

“Snipers,” Xavier says, with a shrug, as if to explain.

“I’ve heard that one,” Benji says. “He scares our ground troops.”

“Ben?” he laughs as he crosses to the blown out wall. It looks out over a rubbled street. Xavier glances around outside of it. He pats around his pack on his side for the rappel. “He’s all bark, no bite. Swear. You’d like him, actually. He’s funny.”

“Xavier.” Benji’s voice stops him as he unhooks the rappel, the length of rope just enough probably to get him down to the ground. He glances up to the medic, who still stands there in the middle of the ruined office building, where they’d just talked for probably half an hour about absolutely nothing. “Are—”

He stops himself from asking the question. Xavier can guess what it is, but he doesn’t say anything as he hooks the rappel onto the ground, as secure as he can get it. He fights the urge to glance up, to take in Benji’s oddly vulnerable expression. Are. Are.

Are you going to want to see me again?

“Well, be fuckin’ careful, alright? We’re on the third story.” Benji’s voice is gruff and close. Xavier looks up as he positions himself to rappel down. He stands there, right at the edge and Xavier has to resist the urge to shove him back in, toward safety. Open area always meant danger. Instead, they both just look at each other, Benji staring down, and Xavier staring up.

“Soon you soon,” Xavier says and winks before he launches himself out the building.