#it took a lot of violence for Miles to be this gentle

[tiagems]

I've read quite a few fics where some bigot decides to ruin Miles' day and Hobie comes to the rescue, which is all good and fine I suppose

But consider: Miles just looking for an excuse to punch a homophobe in the face and Hobie having to remind him that he doesn't wanna get arrested because then he'll have to deal with dear ol' dad giving him The Look when he goes to collect Miles from jail

But later they both knock in the bastard's teeth in as Spider-Men

[jenctrl]

sunflower danielle marsh

synopsis; the hero's spidey-senses have been tingling all over her body whenever the sunflower girl walks into the room, however, the problem is that she's a sunflower while Y/n feels like a sun that comes and goes /content; spiderwoman!reader, spider verse au, fluff, teenie tiny bit of angst at one point, mentions; violence, firearms and death but all in a light manner /wc; 8.9k

songs; sunflower - post malone, love 119 - riize, out of me head - steve lacy

a/n; my spiderman obsession has been hitting a bit harder lately so...also im thinking miles morales suit for this one

“There’s a fight happening at the park.”

“I am at the park?”

“Aren’t your spidey senses tingling?”

“Shut up–oh…I might have been preoccupied with the—”

“With the tingles Dani causes, yeah, yeah, it’s by the fountain.”

“Oh my god, look it’s a squirrel!” The girl squealed, shaking the latter beside her who pried away the hands that gripped onto her arm with a deep sigh. 

“Yeah, I can see,” Haerin grumbled while fixing her shirt.

“Y/n look–” Her joyous voice came to a halt as she turned around and the said girl was no longer there where she had been. “Where’s Y/n?” This made Haerin turn away from the tree they had stopped by and her eyes scanned the park.

The sun was shining brightly with nothing but a gentle breeze to cool everyone off together with the shadows. 

Danielle walked past Haerin with a frown, thinking she had lost her other friend among the people walking in the park. “It’s not the first time she just disappears.” The latter mumbled and followed after the girl who hummed and took out her phone. 

“I will call her–Wait here just in case.” She looked back and received a simple nod from Haerin who stopped under the shadow of a tree. Her eyes scanned the area before watching the other girl who walked completely engrossed in her phone.

Danielle squinted her eyes, trying to fix her brightness and cover her phone to see anything all while trying to head for the nearest shadow to make life easier for herself.

The second she got it right she looked for the girl’s number which wasn’t hard to find; all while she wondered how Y/n always managed to disappear or get lost so easily.

She was confused, to say the least, seeing how the girl would avoid her at times or trail behind them. Quite often Danielle made sure all of her friends felt included, but as she did so she rarely succeeded in including herself as the centre of Y/n’s attention. However, the few times that she was–

“Watch out!” She looked up from her phone with wide eyes just as she had managed to press call. The sound of the fountain she was near was just a mere background noise that was drowned out when she finally paid attention to her surroundings; realising that a lot more than the chirping of birds and water was sounding around her. 

Danielle yelped at the body that collided with her, shutting her eyes, the phone that was in her hand no longer there. There was a brief swoosh of air, her feet no longer on the ground, but she could feel herself falling until she collided with the same body that grunted right under her. The impact of her fall was muffled only making her breath hitch.

She raised her head from the body whose heart was about to thump right out of its ribcage—still feeling it thrash under her palms, something was buzzing too—Danielle went mute at the person right under her. It was none other than the local hero. 

“Here’s your phone; are you alright?” She took her phone–the call went to voicemail and that faint buzzing stopped–trying to find words but it was close to impossible as her own heart was pounding from the adrenaline the action had caused her. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” She managed to get out, wanting to find the next words to thank her hero correctly, but she yelped once again. “Not the head–” Her body was flipped over, shutting her eyes tightly at the slight impact of her back against hitting the grass, however, her head was well protected by a hand. 

This time she opened her eyes and flinched. “Oh come on!” The hero exclaimed at the object that had been thrown their way, hitting the Spidey’s back.

“Five, six–” Danielle’s mouth was left agape at the hero who did a front handspring over her, “pick up sticks,” and then swung–with web–what was a thick branch, “seven, eight, lay them straight,” before launching it at the group of guys who got hit like bowling pins, some trying to scramble away.

“Why are you always daydreaming!?” Haerin was the one pulling the girl up from the grass and away from the fight scene.

“I’m saved as Y/n/n with a red heart in Dani’s contacts.”

“Great Y/n, but you’re literally in the middle of a fight.”

“She’s so pretty!”

“You’re hopeless.”

“I will be anything for her!”

“It all happened so quickly too!” Danielle exclaimed as they walked through the hallways of the college. The girl was so engulfed in the story she told that nothing else would reach her ears.

“I didn’t even notice the fight and suddenly there’s a commotion happening and one of them was about to crash right into me–one second I’m on the ground, the next I’m lifted from it–Spidey swoops in and saves me!”

“We believe you.” Hanni groaned as the girl wouldn’t stop talking about it.

“That’s not the point,” Danielle whined as she looked over her friends, her eyes momentarily landed on the girl who was trailing after them in the back, Y/n. She sighed and shook her head, looking back at Minji and Hanni who were closest to her.

“The point is that I didn’t even get to thank her.” She reasoned, feeling grateful, but somewhat bummed out that she couldn’t even thank the hero who saved her a few days ago.

“Plus Haerin and Y/n were there at the park with me so I have my proof–” She turned around and stretched out her arms to point at Haerin and Y/n, but ultimately stopped which made the whole group stop. “Where’s Y/n?” Her eyes left the spot where Y/n would be and they moved to Haerin who was about to open her mouth but was cut off by Minji.

“She always disappears into thin air.”

“The same thing happened yesterday when that fight happened,” Danielle mumbled and turned on her heels as they continued to walk through the hallway.

“The cat wouldn’t stop clawing at my arm.” 

Sakura threw a glance at the girl, tilting her head to try and have her at the correct angle as the Y/n hung upside down from the ceiling of their dorm. The curtains were down, the room was dim, lit up by Sakura’s setup who was busy fixing up the small tears in the spider suit. 

“Also!” She clicked her tongue at how loud Y/n got all of a sudden. The older girl hummed and flinched again at the loud clatter, looking over to her side to see the girl standing up from the floor and fixing the bin that got tipped over after the fall. “I’m quite sure Haerin knows…” Y/n finished and chewed on her nails as she walked to Sakura and looked over her shoulder. 

“Knows what?”

“My secret.” Y/n whispered right into her friend's ear which made Sakura press it against her shoulder at how it tickled. 

“She doesn’t.” 

The younger girl stood up straight and stretched her back, “I’m telling you, she knows more than she lets on.” She sighed at the feeling and looked back down at her roommate who turned in the swivel chair. The black with red details suit back to its normal self in her hands.

“You should get some rest,” Sakura suggested, dismissing Y/n’s suspicions while handing the suit over to her. 

The girl hummed. “I asked Yunjin to grab me a coffee on her way back, I’m heading to the public library to print some stickers. I made new designs.” Y/n explained as she moved behind the divider to slip the suit on and have it under her clothes.

“Why not the school’s library?” Sakura questioned as she turned back to her computer. 

“Believe it or not; the librarian has given me a ban.” 

“I believe it whole-heartedly.” She rolled her eyes as Y/n blew a raspberry and grabbed her backpack just as there was a knock on the door.

The girl paid no mind to anyone around her as headphones rested atop her ears, printing the stickers she would leave around the city when swinging around.

It was calm and she hadn’t bothered to return to her friends after disappearing to help out someone’s cat. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to hang out with them, the problem was Danielle. 

Well…Maybe Y/n was the problem because she forgot how to act correctly whenever Danielle smiled at her and just did anything around her. She couldn’t help but get lost in her every single time and it was difficult to keep up with anything else going on around her.

It had become a little problem when danger arose and the star of Y/n’s orbit was around. 

The girl quickly turned around, grabbing hold of the hand that was about to touch her shoulder and her eyes widened. With Danielle’s wrist still in her hold she pulled down her headphones with her free hand before quickly letting go of the latter’s hand. 

“Sorry!” She exclaimed and cowered after as it made people turn their heads in the silent library.

Y/n quickly reached for her phone to pause the music which was sounding through the headphones and looked at the two girls in front of her; Danielle let out a breathless chuckle.

“I tried to call your name at first.” Y/n pursed her lips, feeling how her face felt a lot hotter, not just her face, but her whole body. Was it the suit underneath? No because it never got hot in it.

The sound of the stickers printing was what truly brought her back and her eyes landed on Haerin who was right behind Danielle.

Their eyes met and Y/n felt a twinge of paranoia; both girls squinted their eyes at each other and Y/n’s gaze got a bit more intense almost challenging before Haerin frowned. 

‘Oh no, does she know?’

“Anyway–” Danielle was the one to break the silence and intense…staredown? She had no clue what it was, but it eased as Y/n’s eyes landed on her, making her smile a little bigger than she usually did. “You disappeared earlier.”

“Uhm, my roommate–I took her notes by accident instead of my own.” Y/n came up with a quick lie, nodding along to her words to make them seem more believable. 

“Oh okay, so we were talking earlier and I thought it would be better to ask in person,” Danielle continued to talk to the girl whose eyes were glimmering. Y/n was like water in the latter’s presence; glimmering anytime the sun appeared and warming right up for the whole day. 

‘You should probably be listening, but her hair then her eyes, there’s just something about her… Wow, Sakura would be disappointed at this behaviour.’

“Uh-huh.” Y/n nodded, trying her best to snap back into listening to the girl in front of her.

“We’re heading out on Saturday to this café and then we thought of heading to the movies–”

This time Y/n snapped out of it at the shift around her that made it tingle at the back of her head, the hairs on her neck standing up. As if on queue her phone started buzzing; Sakura. 

The loud sirens that were approaching made the two girls look behind them and by the time they looked back at Y/n all that was left were a few stickers that were still being printed. 

“There’s a car chase, actually headed right towards the public library where you are.”

“I’m telling you Haerin knows–Holy!”

“They drove into the building.”

“I can tell–the zipper of my hoodie is stuck.”

“Just leave it.”

“Right, good idea!”

The loud sound of glass breaking shook up the whole library, shrieks and panicked cries mixed in with the already loud volume of sirens and sizzling of what was a reeking car motor. Amidst the chaos and people trying to evacuate, the course of the tall bookshelves was yelling timber.

It seemed to not warn the two girls right under them quickly enough though. Danielle barely managed to make a sound from the fear, already grasping onto Haerin to try and get away from the falling shelves. However, their sense of orientation was extremely off in a moment of pure distress.

“Ready, quite not steady, and go!” A squeak and a grunt were all that was heard before the numerous thuds of shelves falling like dominos followed, leaving nothing but clouds of dust in the air.

Danielle shut her eyes tightly–unsure if she was dead or alive–while hugging the firm yet somehow comforting body. The wind gushed against her skin and she felt the pull of gravity before her toes felt the ground and she opened her eyes.

“Everything alright?” 

She swallowed, her knees almost giving up from the intensity of the adrenaline, once again being met by the local superhero. However, her eyes fell on the black zip-up hoodie, it was so oddly familiar, that it caused her deja vu and she wondered if a book had hit her head after all. It felt like she had seen it just a second ago, the black hoodie with a few red stars stitched onto it which was half zipped up. She was too shaken up to put a finger on it though. 

“Yeah?” She said, however, she did sound quite unsure as they stood now on the second level of the library by the fire escape staircase. Her eyes trailed up the slightly taller figure, the local Spidey tilted her head in confusion and leaned her face in slightly closer.

“Did anything hit your head?” “She’s fine, let’s go already!” Haerin impatiently complained as she was far too scared to stay any longer in the library after almost dying and then flying through the air. 

She grabbed hold of Danielle’s arm to pull her away, but the latter stopped. “Wait!” She finally came back to her senses and looked at the person who saved her.

The words were right at the tip of her tongue; wanting nothing more than to utter the words thank you. However, Haerin was too impatient as she kept on trying to drag the girl towards the exit that was being held open.

“It’s literally–” Danielle gasped, widening her eyes at the web that was shot at her friend, quite literally gluing her mouth shut and making her stumble.

“Cats don’t talk. It will dissolve in an hour or so, be safe, cya later, alligator…” The hero dove right back to the first level of the library and Danielle watched with a defeated look on her face. 

‘You’re so lame…Okay, but does she know? Dani is so cute though–’ 

“Not the printer!”

“That was so scary.” Danielle let out a breath, finally being able to breathe properly after forgetting to do it correctly due to the shock. Those near-death situations were taking a toll on her and she had yet to thank the person who had saved her each of those times. 

“Ugh, did any get in my hair?” 

She looked away from the distance of the campus grounds where they were sitting on a bench to reflect on what had happened. Her eyes landed on Haerin who hadn’t been pleased at all despite being saved. 

“But also so cool, she’s kind of cute.” The girl mumbled as she shook her head, forgetting what Haerin had asked.

Danielle’s thoughts were swinging through her head with no direction, she was trying to connect the web, but it was quite literally impossible because she had no clue where to start. Nothing made sense.

“First off, nothing cool or cute with what she did to me and second; why are you so obsessed with her?” Haerin complained and angrily leaned back against the bench while taking out her phone to check if she looked fine.

“It’s like white knight syndrome or whatever it’s called.” The younger girl added and put her phone away before looking at her friend who looked right back at her with a frown.

“It’s not, she saved me, I wanted to say thank you,” Danielle argued as she didn’t want anything else from the local hero. Just a small thank you.

“Yeah, but where’s Y/n?” That seemed to be a very common question. 

She parted her lips and looked at the lock screen of her phone; a message popped up right as she did. “I just got a text from her.” It was such a normal occurrence that she learned not to be as worried whenever the girl disappeared because somehow Y/n always ended up fine when she checked back to Danielle. 

She couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t get a little sombre whenever the girl just disappeared. It always made her wonder if Y/n really had emergencies or was looking for ways to escape her.

Has Danielle done something wrong? She sighed and opened the text, but despite those little worries she still smiled.

Danielle looked down at her phone, she had been preoccupied with her thoughts rather than paying the usual attention she would to her friends.

She was expecting a text from Y/n with another excuse because those weren’t unusual just like her leaving. It was hard to figure out what the problem was when Y/n was more of a mystery than anything most of the time. 

Maybe Danielle was reading too much into it?

The little bell above the door jingled, making the conversation stop for a second and Danielle looked up with hope that was nothing but crushed when it wasn’t Y/n.  

“Sorry!” Y/n exclaimed, running through the busy street with people. 

The girl glanced down at her phone, 20 minutes late, it could be worse. It had been a long and busy night, by the time she arrived at the dorm the sun was coming up and by the time she fell asleep her alarm started going off. Y/n had ignored Sakura’s advice to cancel and stay in to sleep; she couldn’t miss the opportunity to be with Danielle. 

She fixed the backpack that was sliding off her shoulder and took the last turn, finally arriving at the door of the café. Y/n stopped for a second, looking inside to see her group of friends already there.

Her eyes stayed fixated on the girl who was the definition of a sunflower the way she always looked at the bright side of things.

Danielle looked less bright this time though.

The girl pushed the door open and made it inside, clearing her throat and gazing towards the floor at the attention it got her. However, she didn’t miss how Danielle smiled towards her when her head turned.

“Sorry for being late.” She apologised like she usually got to do.

“Don’t worry about it, the movie starts in an hour so you have time.” Hanni was the one to speak and Y/n nodded, removing her backpack before trying as casually as possible to take a seat beside Danielle. It was like she forgot how to control her body around the girl, her whole body tingled as she took her seat and took a deep breath. 

She watched the girl that had been late who was now sitting and drinking a second coffee. Well, Danielle was observant, at least when it came to Y/n, she somehow caught on to the small changes in her. It wasn’t hard for her to tell that the girl who was sitting right beside her–their knees occasionally brushing, making them both freeze up–was exhausted. 

She felt a bit too shy to straight up ask if Y/n was fine, especially in front of the rest. The girl cared, but she was worried that it would be too obvious.

How stupid could she be? Y/n was her friend, she shouldn’t feel nervous about asking simple questions, or be nervous around her at all. It wasn’t how she felt around her other friends.

Yeah, Danielle liked to play coy with herself. 

She listened in on the conversation Y/n was having with the rest all while gathering some courage to pull Y/n into a conversation just with her once they would be done. However, she would second guess herself because the girl beside her who was close to falling asleep would always avoid her or just leave with no word. 

“Is the cake good?” It seemed to bring Danielle out of her thoughts, realising that she was overthinking once again. Y/n beat her to it and maybe the girl didn’t mind her in the end. The second Y/n would talk to Danielle she’d forget her worries and feel the jitters spark her up to talk. 

“Oh, yeah…Do you want some?” She asked as she looked down at the piece of cake that she had forgotten about midway because of how she lost herself. 

Y/n nodded her head, forgetting words as she was already stuttering in her body language unsure of what to do. Was she supposed to reach for the cake?

Her eyes watched Danielle who pushed it closer and Y/n was about to reach her hand for the fork, however, the latter beat her to it. Her eyes wandered, trying to look at Danielle who was looking at her, but she only could hold eye contact for a second and not any longer. 

‘Take a bite and act cool…You’re anything, but cool though.’

Y/n had a feeling she would melt from the heat running up to her ears as she let Danielle feed her. The cake was sweet, but Y/n couldn’t help but think about how much sweeter the girl beside her was as she smiled at her.

“I was worried you wouldn’t show up, you know?” Did that mean that Danielle liked having Y/n around? That she noticed when she wasn’t present? It could be a friendly thing though, right? 

‘You’re so bad at reading words.’

“Sorry, I was up studying and missed my alarm.” Y/n lied, she couldn’t tell the girl the truth. She couldn’t tell her that all those times she left her without a word was because she was more than just Y/n; the girl who rode her skateboard into Danielle on the first day of college. 

It made a shiver run across her body; maybe friends were all they should be. Y/n couldn’t provide Danielle with a sun 24/7 because she would always come and go. The girl beside her deserved a sun and more, all Y/n could give was the dust she left behind her every time she disappeared. 

“It’s fine, I’m happy you showed up in the end–” Danielle frowned when Y/n abruptly stood up from her chair, it caught everyone’s attention at the table. 

“Sorry! I have to take this,” she quickly excused herself, not waiting for another word as she grabbed her stuff and was already out the door. 

Danielle felt herself deflate once more as her head started to grasp at any possible straws as to why Y/n always left her behind. 

“There was a robbery at a corner store, he is heading your way right now.”

“Okay…”

“Are you alright?”

“Dani probably deserves better than me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“She deserves someone who can be there for her all the time, I can’t.”

“Y/n–”

What was peaceful yet somewhat gloomy for Danielle only seemed to turn worse when the door to the quiet café burst open. “Everyone get on the ground!” The sight of a man nothing more than paranoid and with a firearm was enough to cause chaos among the customers who ducked to the floor when the man pointed at them. 

“Oh no!” Hanni cried out as the four girls found themselves on the floor, trying to hide under the table and stay out of sight. 

“Shut up,” Minji warned as they had yet to have the gun pointed their way and seeing how the man was paranoid, anything could go wrong. 

“I just bought these jeans.” The shorter girl complained.

“Spider-woman, she’s here somewhere, I saw her!” The man exclaimed, revealing the cause of his paranoia. “I will hurt someone if she tries anything.”

“Am I the only one who finds it weird that–” Haerin tried to say something, only to have Minji cover her mouth, shushing her the same way she had done with Hanni.

Danielle thought she would grow used to it by now, but it wasn’t pleasant this time either when she was in danger. It seemed to be everywhere she went lately and each time she was more worried about Y/n than herself; what if she ran back inside? The man would fire right away, wouldn’t he?

Her eyes scanned around the place, her phone was still atop the table and she tried as subtly as possible to reach for it. It seemed though that Minji was as paranoid as the man with a gun; it was quite valid, but still.

“Stop it, he’s gonna see you.” 

“I need my phone.”

“What for? We’re all about to die.” Minji argued with the girl, trying to pull her back down and under the table where they hadn’t been spotted yet. 

“Oh my God, I don’t wanna die.” Hanni cried. 

“Look at what you did,” Danielle complained, trying to divert Minji’s attention to Hanni who was about to start crying. “I need it to–”

“What’re you two doing!?” Both girls flinched and tried to retreat right back to cower away from the man. Haerin clicked her tongue at Hanni who was close to climbing onto her to try and hide.

“Nothing good sir!” Minji squeaked out, widening her eyes as he made his way towards them.

“Throw your phones away.” He ordered them, Hanni and Minji were the first ones to slide their phones over to the man's feet. 

“You two, your phones.” Haerin was next when he pointed the firearm her way, but Danielle was stubborn. All she wanted to do was send a text to warn the girl who could show up any second. 

“Give him the damn phone.” They bickered, trying to pry it away from her hold. 

“Noo.” She whined, but it got snatched by none other than the man himself who tossed it to the side. 

“You.” “Me?” Minji pointed at herself when he pointed at her. “Get up.” 

“Well, I think I'd rather sit here and–” “I said get up!” Her arm got grabbed, her other arm slipping out of Hanni’s grasp who was still hiding behind Haerin.

“Okay, but you’re actually hurting my arm.” Minji pointed out, pointing at the hand that was gripping her arm quite tightly. 

“Are you all making fun of me!?” The man snapped and another wave of panicked gasps and cries echoed through the café when the firearm was pointed right at the girl; holding her at gunpoint. 

Danielle tried to look for a rational solution to this. Where were the cops? She looked around while her friends tried to reason with the criminal. Minji looked like she was about to pass out. 

Where was Spider-woman?

For whatever reason, she looked up with a frown and got her answer when she saw the figure through the closed ventilation. She blinked at the gesture of the hero who was signalling. Danielle got it.

“Knock knock.” The man snapped his head up at the ventilation right above him at the voice. 

“Who’s there, I will shoot!” 

“Your friendly neighbourhood spider-woman,” yet again, screams followed as the vent fell out and a gunshot followed, hitting the ceiling. Danielle quickly got up and grabbed hold of Minji’s arm, pulling her away while the hero tackled the man right to the ground.

The four girls watched the hero who saved the day once again swing away and disappear between the buildings. As they fell into chatter about what had happened while the cops handled the rest of the situation, Danielle finally got to open her messages with Y/n. It had been a while since she left.

“Hey–” She didn’t manage to even start the text and looked right back up, seeing the girl running towards them. “What happened?” Hanni was the first one to jump right into explaining what happened as if she hadn’t cried through the whole scene.

“How about we just watch a movie at our dorm?” Minji suggested, offering hers and Hanni’s dorm after what happened. 

“Are you alright?” Y/n walked over to Danielle as they all started heading back to college grounds, knowing very well what had gone down in the café the second she left. She still wanted to make sure that Dani was alright. 

Danielle hummed and gave Y/n a smile. “Yeah,” she chuckled and looked over the girl’s face who still looked just as tired. She smiled a little bigger at the genuine worry Y/n’s face held. “You’re lucky.” She commented.

“I am?” Y/n questioned, getting another hum, watching the way Danielle gave her a nod of affirmation with it. Her breath got caught in her throat when she felt Danielle’s fingers brush against hers. 

‘Hold her hand, just take it into yours like they do in movies…’ 

Y/n glanced down at the girl’s hand–their friends not paying them any mind as they walked in front of them–they were so close and all she wanted to do was hold Dani’s hand. 

“Yeah, it’s like you sense danger, the way you disappear when something bad is about to happen.” Y/n let out a small laugh at the words that reminded her of why she had disappeared and remembered what she had come to realise right before it.

“I think Sakura is the one who can sense it since she called.” 

Danielle twisted her lips, trying to keep up her smile as she glanced down–wanting to hold Y/n’s hand–and Y/n put her hands in the pockets of her jeans. 

“You did miss Spiderwoman though.” She joked, trying to lighten up her heart which seemed to get a little dull. 

“So…Somewhere between lucky and unlucky.” Danielle smiled, shaking her head, Y/n still managed to brighten up everything for her. 

Danielle hadn’t been expecting much to come out of sitting and watching movies in Minji and Hanni’s cramped dorm. It was cosy, to say the least, but she was still too busy thinking about the girl beside her. 

Could she even call them mixed signals? 

Dani felt time stop for a few seconds, her heart stalled as she tensed up. She tried to move as little as possible as she was sitting on the bed with the girl whose head was now on her shoulder. It wasn’t weird, she would lend her shoulder to all her friends, that’s just how she was, but having Y/n’s head drop onto her shoulder felt different and she was aware. 

Painfully aware.

She glanced down at the girl who was asleep, carefully moving her hand over to Y/n’s which was resting beside her leg. Danielle gently ran her fingers over the girl’s arm which was covered by a hoodie.

She smiled when she got to the girl’s hand, tracing her thumb over Y/n’s soft palm before she pulled the sleeve of the hoodie down further and took her hand into her lap; she did get to hold her hand in the end. 

All Danielle needed to do now was just find the opportunity to talk to Y/n.

After a day that had felt dragged out attending classes, Y/n found herself away from campus. The ground under her vibrated as yet another train passed by, sitting right under the subway tracks where the old and quite abandoned skatepark was.

It had been a while since she last had time to enjoy it and mess around on her board, however during one of her classes with Dani the girl had asked her if they could spend time alone.

Of course, Y/n had concluded that a crush was all that Danielle would ever be to her and she would never become more. How could she become more if Y/n couldn’t even start by giving her enough now? 

It didn’t mean that she wouldn’t spend time with her, especially since just the thought of Dani made Y/n smile which was something she always needed in her world.

Who would have thought that being the local superhero could turn so gloomy at times? She loved it, but it took away a lot, especially the people around her and holding a secret this big could almost feel like a heavy burden on her shoulders. 

She glanced at her phone, bobbing her head along to the song that played through the speakers of her headphones. The girl had arrived earlier to skate before Danielle would arrive and the latter should be there soon enough unless she had missed her train. 

However, nothing could go as planned for Y/n when her music was interrupted by a call from Sakura.

“There have been disruptions between the control centre and the incoming subway train after the ropes snapped on the crane causing girders to fall right atop the tracks, Y/n.”

“Is it really that–Wait, is it the train that stops near the campus?”

“Exactly that one and it will fly right off the rails in a few minutes.”

“Dani is on that train.”

Danielle flinched at the sudden and loud thud that made her look up from her phone, eyes widening at the familiar figure that clung onto the side of the train, staring right at her through the window.

She was confused, watching the spider crawl up and disappear and suddenly her heart rate spiked up. 

Of course, Spider-Woman was nothing but good, but if she suddenly appeared, it could only mean that something was wrong. Not only did she appear out of nowhere, but quite literally halfway changed with a hoodie, shorts, and sneakers still on with the suit under the regular clothes. 

How bad was it?

Danielle got her answer the second the train screeched, making her grab hold of the pole she stood beside to not fly right onto the floor at the abrupt stop. It was still rolling, trying to stop, screeching and making people fall into panicked chatter, trying to figure out what was going on.

Something made the air shake from what sounded like an explosion. 

It all turned into those familiar gasps and distressed shouts as everyone was growing scared; Danielle included when the railway vehicle finally came to a stop but with a loud crash and suddenly the wagon was starting to tip over, tilting forward. As far as Dani was concerned the subway didn’t go downhill, especially not at a steep angle like this was starting slowly to become. 

It had stopped, but it was gradually with intervals tilting or more so falling more and more. Danielle quickly moved over to the windows, grabbing hold of another pole to try and get a peek at what was going on. 

“The whole crane exploded and the bridge!”

“Are you handling it? This is probably something more than just an accident.” 

“I’m trying to prevent the operator cab from falling off and dragging the rest of the wagons with it–people need to start evacuating from the back exit.”

Watching the front of the train hang in the air, supported by multiple webs that connected to the other end of the bridge, looked far from right. It wasn’t right as she watched the hero shoot more strings to hold it all up.

She could barely see through the thick black clouds of smoke that were coating the air around it from the fire under it. 

“Everyone, evacuate through the last wagon, firefighters are waiting!” That was all she caught before people started to pile up to get to the back. They were quite literally in the third wagon–the second was out of service, the first one off the rails. 

Danielle got bumped into as she was about to do the same, her frame being pushed the wrong way and the subway train dropped yet again, making her stumble back and onto the hard floor with a yelp. The angle would become steep any second now and she wouldn’t be able to make it out at all.

Oh was she going to die such a pathetic death?

No way, she still had to talk to Y/n, may that thought be what saved her as yet another explosion followed with terrified screams. 

“Give me a break.” She groaned in annoyance and pulled herself up on her feet, watching people running out of the wagon she was in and disappear, heading towards the end of the tail.

Clearly, not everyone could be called a hero after no one had even considered helping her up. Bitterly she was back up on her feet, holding onto whatever she could to make it easier to walk up the acute angle. 

It wasn’t too bad yet, but she felt heat run across her spine because it couldn’t be good for too long. Lately, it has been anything but good, but she tried to look on the bright side, if she got out she would finally be able to talk to Y/n; she has waited a week now to gather the courage.

It wasn’t good, but it could be worse, couldn’t it?

Danielle ran, whatever was happening behind her didn’t sound good at all and it felt like she was running on a treadmill whose incline constantly went up. Exhaustion was starting to take over and her legs burned, praying that she wouldn’t slip because if she went down now, there was no going back. 

Nope! She probably jinxed herself.

Something snapped–the webs–and it was free fall from there, right back to where she came from. She tried to grab onto something, but her feet didn’t slip, however, her hands did as she missed the next pole, only touching it with her fingertips.

A shriek escaped her lips and no thoughts were left in her head, vividly aware of there being no point as nothing mattered anymore if she was falling to her death anyway.

“Incy Wincy Spider climbed up the rails!” Her body was caught and she huffed, tightly wrapping her arms around the shoulders. “Down goes the train!” Only hearing the webs shoot out before they were launched up, a loud crash followed with another explosion after them and she didn’t dare to open her eyes because she couldn’t tell if she was alive or dreaming after feeling a wave of heat hit her too. 

The air around her swooshed, sirens, screams and it was all growing faint as an arm wrapped around her waist. She slowly dared to open her eyes, she was far from the ground and it made her grip tighten. 

Dani however trusted the person who held her, trusting her not to let her fall as she hadn’t let her fall with the train she saw down below; it had fallen off the tracks, going up in flames with everything else. The Spidey who was holding onto her kept humming the nursery rhyme she had tweaked earlier.

She inhaled deeply at the pull of gravity with her eyes closed, she only opened them once she felt the ground under her feet.

“You’re all safe now.” Danielle carefully stepped back, looking around to see that she was at the top of a building. Her eyes fell back on the girl in front of her before she could disappear.

“The door is unlocked and you can just head down.” She looked where the door was and snapped her head back at the footsteps.

There was still something she wanted to do, something she had wanted to do for a while now and she’s simply never had the chance. Spider-woman lived a fast-paced life, but Dani was sure she could make some time for her, at least for a few minutes.

“Wait!” She exclaimed and grabbed onto the girl’s wrist who had turned around to run off. It made Spidey turn back around on her heels with a hum, tilting her head at Danielle. She let go and took a breath before swallowing to make room for the words.

“Thank you.” Danielle finally managed to get out and let out a breathless chuckle at the finger-guns pointed at her as the hero slowly backed up. This was it.

“Of course, I’m your friendly neighbourhood–”

“Thank you for always looking out for me, Y/n.” Dani added and inhaled deeply, balling up her fists before she relaxed, releasing that breath she took. 

“What?”

“I know you’re under the mask, Y/n,” Danielle stated, her tone firm yet she felt it all shaking up inside her. 

The hero let out a little chuckle. “What if I’m not actually under the mask? Won’t it be embarrassing for you if you are wrong?

She let out a breath, a hopeless chuckle and maybe she couldn’t get Y/n to trust her. 

“Y/n, I’ve been sure about it for the past week,” the signs were all there laid out in front of her this whole time, they had been especially clear these past few weeks.

The time in the park when a phone was buzzing and stopped the second Dani’s call to Y/n ended. 

The hoodie in the library, Y/n had the same hoodie on her before disappearing, Danielle had seen the girl wear it on multiple occasions before too. Sakura had helped her patch those stars onto it; Y/n would never shut up about it and Dani loved watching her happily boast about her roommate.

The rhymes, the ‘cya later alligator’ and the lame but somehow endearing and cute actions and words she only knew Y/n for. 

Simply the fact that Y/n always disappeared whenever crime took place. Hell, she had never seen Spider-woman and Y/n in the same room and considering how often she was with Y/n it would have happened by now. 

The Saturday after what happened at the café when they went to watch movies at their friends' dorm. That was the night her suspicions got confirmed when she saw the suit peek out from Y/n’s hoodie, making Danielle cover it for her so no one else would see. 

Everything was in front of her now as the Spider-woman was wearing Y/n’s clothes over the suit. 

Dani watched the way Spider-woman, Y/n, slumped her shoulders and looked down. 

“Dani–” Y/n tried, but was cut off by the latter. 

She was feeling vulnerable, everything she had tried to prevent from happening was happening. Y/n was supposed to leave Danielle behind, but now she knew about her biggest secret. She was letting her into parts of her life she hadn’t let anyone else into except her roommate. 

“I just wish you trusted me the same way I trust you and wouldn’t put a distance between us.” She let out, jutting out her lower lip as she frowned, her deep breaths mixing with the wind that howled in her ears. 

“I don’t put a distance between us, Dani.” Y/n tried to argue, but she knew very well how many miles she had put between them. From the secrets to the lies, all the way to all the things she had done to try and avoid letting Danielle in too close. She couldn’t do it to the girl, she couldn’t let her into a place she would never stay in because Y/n would always come and go.

That was her life as the friendly neighbourhood Spider-woman.

“But you do and I don’t understand why…You won’t even take off your mask!” She raised her voice in desperation as she refused to let Y/n close the door on her.

Dani never cared about Y/n staying, all she cared about was being let inside so Y/n would have someone to come back to once she did. She had come to the realisation–after figuring out the girl’s secret identity–that Y/n would always leave, but she’d also always come back.

If only she had let Danielle know why she always left in the first place then they wouldn’t be in this position.

Y/n huffed and pulled the mask off of her face, using her sleeve to wipe away the tears that had formed from the intensity of the moment as so much had just happened.

All she could do now was make Danielle understand just why she put a distance between them; explain why she distanced herself from most people. How her life was miserable without the people closest to her, but how she still couldn’t be as close as she wanted with them. 

How Dani deserved way better than her.

Y/n bunched up the mask in her fist, she loved it, she loved it all, but she hated so many parts of it. She hated that to save the lives of people, she had to hurt the people she loved the most by disappointing them. 

“You know it's like when my spidey senses are tingling but the difference is that you cause more than a micro shift when you step in a room and it causes my whole body to tingle.” Y/n at last confessed, the words bursting out of her as she threw her arms up. It made her pace back and forth at the frustrations of having so much to give, but not being able to. 

“I feel so hopeless because you’re the sunshine, a sunflower always looking towards the bright and I try to do that but my world isn't as bright.” She continued, refusing to look at Danielle as she stopped and glared down at the roof under her feet.

Y/n’s body deflated like a balloon, feeling all those pent-up emotions of anger disappear and the sadness of the situation wash over her instead.

“It’s full of danger, it’s full of uncertainty about tomorrow, it can turn gloomy on the brightest days, it’s a burden I love and hate carrying. It isn’t something you deserve, something anyone close to me deserves.” Y/n sighed and all she felt like doing was crying as she knew that it was over from here.

“I will never be able to just be there, I will always appear and disappear.”

Danielle would understand the reality of Y/n’s life and leave her behind before Y/n could do it; not like she would be able to do it, but the sunflower would turn away from the sun that never stayed, and find one that would always be there. 

“Dani, you deserve better than me.” Y/n widened her eyes and looked up in panic. “Oh my god do you even like me like that!?” It would be embarrassing if she had just assumed that Danielle wanted to be more than friends. Even if they would only be friends, Y/n still needed her to understand why the distance was needed.  

Danielle chuckled, watching the girl who almost jumped at the sheer panic. She heard every word Y/n told her and instead of them pushing her away, they made her want to step so much closer to her. It made her realise how much Y/n needed someone and she wanted to be that someone simply because it was Y/n. 

“You don’t even realise what you’re saying.” The girl stated as she made it in front of Y/n and grabbed hold of her hands. Dani looked down at the mask clutched in the gloved hand, the mask of far more responsibility than one person could carry alone. 

“What?” Y/n looked at the girl who she viewed as a sunflower, feeling the warmth swallow her ears when Danielle looked up and met her eyes.

Under the sun, her eyes glimmered, with the wind her curls gently moved and with the smile that plastered itself on her lips Y/n’s whole world lit up and it always made everything feel easier. 

“A sunflower?” Danielle questioned with a breathless chuckle, her thumbs caressing Y/n’s hands. 

“Yes…” She mumbled, glancing away as she was worried that Dani would find the comparison stupid. 

“I look towards the bright, I look at you and get warm, feel a smile form, Y/n. Why on earth would I ever not like you back? If I’m a sunflower then you’re the sun I turn towards.”

Yeah, Danielle’s whole body was fuzzy and maybe her fingers would tremble from the nerves if she didn’t hold onto Y/n, but she dwelled on the feeling as she watched Y/n with a fond smile. The girl simply made her feel warm and bright just by being there. 

It made her burdens disappear, she only wanted Y/n to feel the same way. 

“You’re exactly what I deserve and want and you deserve to have someone there for you too. I can’t let you carry it all alone. So what if you leave? So does the sun in the sky.” She glanced towards the said sun with her eyes squinted, tightening her grip on Y/n.

Danielle was ready to risk it all for Y/n because she was all that she wanted. It was scary, she had to admit that it was, Y/n was right, tomorrow was unknown and it was terrifying but she knew what she wanted at the moment and that was where she lived, only worrying about what was now. She could worry about the unknown future when it would come. 

“You deserve someone who will be there when you come back and I want to be that home for you, Y/n.” 

Y/n had no words; she hadn’t been expecting things to turn out this way at all. She had expected Danielle to leave her, to be a sun with nothing to warm up.

Her ears were muffled, her face felt hot, her heart beat up in her ears and she could feel those tingles running all over her body again, feeling the shift in her that the girl in front of her always caused.

Suddenly she felt like the bee that was drawn to the sunflower because the warmth it gathered had been just what Y/n needed without realising. Luckily she had Dani to realise it for her. 

The girl huffed when Y/n crashed into her, hugging her close. Danielle wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist, resting her cheek against the taller girl’s shoulder.

The loud thumping of Y/n’s heart matched hers and she smiled, closing her eyes as she could remember how it sounded the same that day in the park. They were tangled up together, but tangled together in webs of love with their hearts. 

“Thank you, Dani.” She mumbled. 

The girl was everything that she had imagined and so much more as she turned out to be something that Y/n also needed. Most importantly, Y/n–not spider-woman–but Y/n was someone that was needed beyond her secret identity, someone who Danielle wanted and needed there. 

“I’m always here.” She reassured Y/n as they pulled back, she bit her lower lip at the blush on Y/n’s cheeks who exhaled deeply before looking at her seriously. However, Dani’s silly superhero couldn’t keep her composure as she covered her face with her gloved hands, letting out an almost inaudible squeal.

“It’s official then!” Danielle hummed, tilting her head and Y/n peeked out from between her fingers. 

“You’re my girlfriend.” 

“Oh? Just like that?” She questioned with a laugh at the statement, seeing that she hadn’t been left with another choice as Y/n finally showed her flushed face with that big smile. 

“Yes, it’s not even up for discussion–” Y/n firmly stated as she put the mask back on, stepping back she pointed at Danielle with finger guns once again. “I will go and figure out whatever it was that happened and meet you at the dorms.” 

She giggled, nodding at Y/n words, watching the girl who was turning around, but she stopped just as she was going to run off. 

“Wait, wait, can we just—what if…” Y/n stuttered, turning back around on her heels, she cleared her throat and rubbed at the back of her neck. “We kiss.” She tried to suggest as casually as possible with a shrug, letting her hand fall. 

“If you want to.” 

“Yes, I'd love to.” 

Danielle shook her head as Y/n didn’t move from her spot, so she took it upon herself after seeing the girl glued to her spot. She looked up at Y/n who hadn’t even started to lift the mask.

“You’re such a goof,” Dani stated and reached up, pulling Y/n’s mask up above her nose before cupping her face and leaning in as she stood on her toes, finally feeling Y/n move and hold onto her waist.

‘Oh my, about to faint, Dani is going to kiss you, you’re about to kiss–!!!!!!!!!!!’

[aris-ink]

I need step brother jungkook fcking sister in a tesla driving home pls 🥵

I know this wasn't in my wips but I was listening to ordinary life by the weeknd and here we are

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!siblings au

warnings: mentions of violence (not towards the reader), slight allusions to murder and corruption kink, pseudo incest, oral sex (road head 💀), soft dirty talk, tiny bit of degradation, lots of praise, car sex, creampie, as always this turned out soft

The trees passing by looked like ink, branching out against the pink and orange brushes of dusk in the sky. Jungkook's hands tightened around the wheel, the feeling of your lips on his neck caressing him like a gentle gust of wind, causing goosebumps to erupt along his spine. He leaned his head back against the leather seat when you left a kiss below his ear, one hand landing on your thigh.

It was so difficult to find a moment where you could be alone together like this. He couldn't exactly kiss you or hold you out in the open, because what would people say? Personally, Jungkook didn't give a fuck. He never hesitated to bury anyone who bothered you deep in the ground, and therein lay the problem. You gave a fuck, and seeing as he was your brother, he would have to burn the whole city down, starting with your parents. Somehow, he doubted that you would have liked that.

Not that ultimately he wasn't going to have to take care of this issue anyway. But for now, he was happy to just fuck the tears and the doubts out of you, until you understood that you were his and he was yours.

And it seemed like you were beginning to understand, little by little. His cock hardened as your warm lips brushed up against the silver cross on his neck, your nimble fingers working on undoing his zipper. He wished he could open the window to cool down, but he wanted to hear you clearly, each breath you took and each soft hum you let out.

Heat bubbled in his stomach, a sharp intake of breath following the feeling of your hand wrapping around him, easing his cock out of his jeans. Inked fingers tightened on your thigh, eyes trained on the road stretching out before him. Even when you leaned down to swipe your tongue across the tip.

He twitched at the feeling of the wet warmth, the veins in his hands more prominent the tighter he squeezed the wheel.

"What are you doing?" He murmured, unable to help the flutter of his heart and his eyelids, his back straightening when your lips wrapped around him.

The only answer you provided him with was a small suck as you lowered your head further, taking his cock deeper into your mouth. Jungkook groaned, restlessly searching the outside scenery for a place to park. Instead of continuing down the highway, he made a turn into the forest that stretched for miles from both sides, where the old oaks and willows could conceal you from any prying eyes.

The path he entered was rocky and uneven, the unexpected bump causing your teeth to graze against him. Jungkook hissed, slowing to a stop, not caring enough to drive deeper into the woods. As soon as the ignition was off, his hand buried in your hair, head tilting down so he could look at you. He grunted, taking in the way half of his cock disappeared inside your mouth, the way you tried to take it deeper, sloppy and wet and tight.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Oh, what a good girl."

He finally let himself throw his head back and close his eyes, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, tongue running over his piercing. The small moan you let out around him made his cock drip, and you sucked on it like you needed more. Jungkook whined, tugging on your hair softly to get your attention.

But when you lifted your head, spit shining on your lips, his hand cupped the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a messy kiss.

"Get in the back," he muttered. "Go."

It shouldn't have been surprising that as soon as you did as he asked, he was sliding your wet panties down your thighs, ready to bury his face in between them. Smoothing one hand over your spine, he bent you over the seat, the other hand busy tucking your underwear into the back pocket of his jeans.

"I'll be keeping those, baby."

Your hips rolled when you felt his lips brush your inner thigh.

"Need you inside, please," you sighed, resting your head comfortably against the seat.

Jungkook pressed himself against you, shielding you with his warmth, hard cock rubbing in between your slick folds.

"Yeah?" He groaned. "Be more specific, baby, because you know I'd give you anything. What do you need? My tongue? Fingers? Tell me, pretty angel."

You shook your head, a shiver running through you when he started kissing your neck, his lips soft on your heated skin.

"Come on, you can do it. What do you think you deserve, baby?"

You took a deep breath, eyes closing, his strong hands rubbing your thighs.

"A-anything I want," you whispered.

Jungkook hummed.

"Mm, that's right. You deserve anything you fucking want, angel."

The tip of his cock nudged your entrance. The feeling of your walls trying to suck him in made him suppress a shudder, but he didn't let up, sliding one hand under your shirt.

"And why do you deserve anything you want, hm?"

He circled your nipple with the pad of his finger, feeling it harden instantly under the touch. As if to motivate you, he pushed in a few inches deeper, stretching you out slowly.

You gasped.

"Because I'm- because-"

Another inch forward, his hips pushing closer to your ass.

"Because?" He coaxed breathlessly, wrapping his entire hand around your breast to fondle it.

"Because I'm your good girl," you whimpered. "Please."

Jungkook slid all the way in, teeth biting gently into your throat, strong arms enveloping your frame. A low moan left him as your pussy clenched around his cock, pulsing and leaking.

"Mhm," he breathed out slowly, immediately setting up a rhythm, his thrusts starting off hard and deep, pushing you into the seat. "Tell me more."

He didn't care if you had trouble speaking, or if he had to fuck you and edge you all night to hear what he wanted. You knew that by now, because as much as you struggled to answer him, you didn't hold back like you have before, even if your skin burned with embarrassment.

"Be-because I'm your pretty baby," you moaned. "Please, faster."

Jungkook provided you with just that, lewd, smacking sounds beginning to mingle with your soft whines and his groans.

"Yeah, that's right, look what a smart, good girl I have here. Fuck, you're so tight. Missed this perfect pussy so fucking much, fuck."

The last word came out as a grunt. No, a growl, something more feral spreading through his veins, making his cock ache as he fucked you.

"You wanna come?" His breath tickled your ear, voice raspy, arms tightening around you possessively. "Tell me. Want me to ruin your little cunt?"

You only whined in response. Jungkook knew you like the back of his hand, and oh, there was no doubt left in him that you were on the verge of giving in and letting go. There was no mercy left in him either, his cock pounding you faster, balls tightening with every thrust.

"Please, please, please," you mewled. "Please, Jungkook!"

He gritted his teeth.

"Say it first, baby. Fucking say it or I'll stop right now."

You shook your head weakly, groaning.

"No! Please, I want to come. Make me come."

With a strangled moan, he sneaked his hand in between your legs, pressing into your swollen clit.

"Yeah? You wanna come? My pretty little baby is gonna fall apart on this cock like a good slut? Huh?"

He could see stars explode behind his eyelids when your cunt convulsed around him, his jaw set tight, glistening with sweat. The way you moaned his name made his stomach twist, his cum shooting deep inside of you and painting your walls white. It felt hot, wet and messy, his hips grinding into yours unsteadily, his body tingling from head to toe.

He held you close to him, not knowing how else to satisfy his endless cravings, nor how to silence the constant demands of his bleeding heart. It always called out for you.

Maybe you weren't a good girl, certainly not after this. Even though your parents knew nothing of this little secret, it was almost impossible to please them, no grade or job ever seeming good enough. And Jungkook couldn't replace the acceptance he knew you craved from them; but he could fill you up with his own love, and continue to fuck your insecurities out of you. Maybe you weren't a good girl, but-

"What are you, angel?" He whispered into your neck, his body slumped against yours, knees numb from being pressed into the seat for too long and cock still buried inside you.

"Your good girl," you sighed again, the words stumbling out with more ease, almost absentminded.

Jungkook smiled, pressing a kiss into your shoulder.

"Yeah. My good girl."

Another kiss, then one more, tender and sweet.

"My good, little angel."

That was all you needed to remember.

💌 taglist: @imnotlauriane @baalsgurl1913 @bucketofhiros @silv3rswirls @osakis-gf

[ctheathy]

Yan! Miles Prower(Where was my Hero) or Yan! Nine(Prime) your choice please.Just basic headcannons for either one is fine please. Have a good day too

Yandere Miles Prower [Where Was My Hero] Headcanons

Miles “Tails” Prower x Reader

Yandere Headcanons

Author’s note : Good afternoon, Nonnie~! You’re in luck, I’ve been having immense brainrot about these two for the past month or so, because of this I’m willing to write for the both of them in separate posts.

We’ll start with Miles from Where Was My Hero? due to him being the first when it comes to the villain Tails concept. He also feels a whole lot more personal on my end, so that’s why =}

Yandere Nine + Differences ➷

WWMH Tails/Reader [Romantic]

+Slight Nine x Reader in bonus section [Romantic//platonic]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs ⚠️ :

Possessive+Predatory behaviour • Sadistic behaviour [Not directed torwards darling] • Cunning characteristics • Descriptions of intense bullying • Delusions • Co-dependency • Implications torwards mass murder • Suicidal implication • stalking • Abuse of power

◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘◙◘

This version of the Miles we all love and adore has been a very ... Ill-treated character. He’s been met with uncountable variants of both harassment and bullying, having him shown specifically being pushed around a lot by his persecutors. Other examples being his work getting destroyed to bits, nasty stares being given, insults being thrown left and right when given his presence, and pretty much just tormenting the poor thing to no end, for absolutely no reason nonetheless. The invalid reasonings and arrogant choices having turned his life into a living hell for the longest time. Yet even so, he still remained to be a sweet and gentle soul, but all it took was one last hit to completely push him over the edge.

You could have met the fox throughout his youth or perhaps even through adulthood, but that wouldn’t change anything within the unnatural behaviours the mobian would indicate torwards you in particular. Though there would certainly be quite the difference in both states when it comes to how his emotions seem to appear, the potential for yandere characteristics have always been there. And pushing him to that condition wouldn’t even be too difficult in itself, it honestly only requiring holding the bare minimum of decent behaviours. But as mentioned before, there will definitely still remain a few important changes out there in both his habits and mannerisms to take note of when describing the specific ageing state of his.

For example; there should be noted that he’d be one to fall a whole lot quicker at a younger age, the immense shock yet immediate admiration already glowing in his eyes right off the bat when you do as much as defend him from the bystanders’ ridicule. Even just not looking down upon him like any other he has crossed paths with can already make the fox completely smitten with ease, almost making the fox cling to you like it’s the only bit of life support left for him. His adoration is also one to grow rather quickly over time, inserting his obsessive streaks who are slowly starting to find themselves into both of your lives right off the bat. Young Miles isn’t necessarily one to stand to violence at any early points, but that really does not mean he’s not capable of it if it fits his desires. But for now on, he’d much rather prefer to just let you do whatever you want to him, and perhaps acts on the unsavoury side that include watching you from afar and collect any of the potential items you may leave behind right for the taking, having no realisation over the fact how creepy his ways truly are, despite how much his delusions may try to convince him otherwise. Other than the stalker-ish tactics he may hold, he couldn’t really be considered harmful torwards his darling in any way, but it’s rather his own stability and the safety of anyone around which is put at intense risk.

Where the real threat comes in is how he’d quite literally do anything his beloved asks of him, and while these may just be small and innocent gestures, this could also include those who could be considered dangerous or even meant as ill-intented. If his darling is one to be the manipulative type, it’s only then when real victims start to appear. It unquestionably confirming the fact that he’d really be just as dependent on you as the original Tails Prower would, and while Miles may have been identical to him at some point, you’d be able to notice how careless he actually grows torwards any other life over time. Starting to view them as lack of priority and instead just wanting to concentrate on the goal of keeping you satisfied with him.

When he became an adult, however ... He is described to have straight up become a sadistic, uncaring and perhaps even considered detached mobian right after the accident; being robbed of all emotion and feelings zero remorse for any other being out there in a way of advancing the little bird that had lost its life for his sake. The most fitting way to directly say it would just be saying that he’s apathetic; apathetic torwards any life around his own. Though I don’t believe that to be entirely true. Not for this case, at least. As right on the other hand, when having met him around the matured years of his, he’d fall harder than his younger self, but he seems to have trouble showcasing this; while clearly being more gentle with his darling in indirect mannerisms, he’d unfortunately still remain rather dispassionate when it comes to their affectionate demeanour showing, the fear of both betrayal and slight distrust in their genuineness holding him back, much like it would with Nine aswell.

But unlike Nine, Miles could be considered to be a whole lot more low-key; operating as a cold and calculated mobian and usually keeping to himself in order to keep his schemes under control, where Nine instead has no hidden motives to concentrate on. Miles’ behaviour would very much symbolise that of a chess player; gaining the upper hand and power through manipulation and being more patient in the category than Nine is. Another thing that should be mentioned is how you can barely even read the fox’ facial expressions and body language, it almost seeming as if it has been plastered into a mere poker face on the daily, making it difficult to keep up with any plans and tricks he might have up his sleeve.

Another thing I’d wish to concentrate on is how forceful and cunning he can become in his position of power when the darling is one to be disobedient. Though never wishing to cause any physical harm onto his darling, and absolutely demolishing anything and everyone that manages to even lay a finger on them; I can however see him enjoying the idea of toying with them. May that be through small tactics that could affect you emotionally or overall just playing with your desire for escaping, even if he has made it very obvious that leaving isn’t even an option for you anymore. He’d likely be one to get your hopes up, only to crumble all of it into bits at the last second. Much like the adjustments he’s made on his own self over the years, specifically the spider-like antennae on his back would also be something that could definitely describe the fox and his characteristics. When you manage to find your way into his heart, there’s unquestionably no getting out of it. This part of the dynamic could very much resemble the prey and predator trope, much like being stuck in the web of the insect itself.

Having worked himself up to an incredibly high rank, he’s most certainly going to take you in with or without your consent. It’s not like he doesn’t care about your feelings and boundaries, but he believes other topics to be prime concern, especially when being very well aware of the fact that it’s quite the opposite of safe out there. All he’s doing it for is in order to keep you secure and sheltered-! Yeah... Atleast, that’s what he tells himself. When realistically, hidden somewhere in the back of his head, it’s much closer to keeping the core that keeps his mental state stable locked up for his own stability. Even as he got older, the only real things who’d ever treated him decently being his machinery creations aside from-well-- you. But he’d never be able to admit to himself that he is still this reliant on another, especially after making himself out to be so independent as the feared and well-known mastermind everyone knew him as. But another thing that would have pushed him on edge even further would be the fact that it’s still undoubtedly dangerous out there. He knows his creations have the mechanics to target and attack anything moving, and he sure as hell doesn’t want you to fall victim to his robotic comrades.

Even when abducted, I can the fox being rather on the paranoid side, questioning his ability to keep you safe while being such a wanted delinquent. If anything, you may or may not already be able to notice a pinch of his sanity slipping away even further if you manage to get hurt in the slightest. I can also see the fox having quite the struggle when it comes to showing you his genuine intentions and emotions. Hiding his true feelings behind a large wall that seemingly lacks any kind of emotion... But if anything, it might even be the complete opposite when paying attention to the little details; perhaps when diving deeper into it, he might even be considered as emotional. In a way, he behaves incredibly repulsive torwards any of the affection you offer, often flinching at the slightest hint of a touch and usually even just avoiding it at a regular basis. But right at the same time, he clearly craves it; unintentionally leaving out small hints here and there when he longs for the simplest act such as holding your hand. Making it more than obvious that despite wanting to deny it on severe levels, he is just vulnerable as his younger self would be.

Something on a sweeter note, however, he’d certainly compare you to the little bird he nursed back to health when he was younger. He’s never had many creatures whom he could share his love with ... Aside from his pet bird, practically none, even. And because of this, he feels incredibly understood and puts a lot of trust in you for even allowing him to adore you like this, especially when considering your position. He hasn’t experienced a lot of joy in his life, but you? You make him happy. He understands your feelings may not be mutual to his own, but to him; you truly are his forever. The longer you’re with him, the closer he becomes to reaching the point of believing you to be the only dream and motive left for Mobius entirely. And though feeling a bit guilty for not showing it as much as he should have, he had always already found you to be the one hope left in this pitiful universe. You’re one of a kind to him, and he had finally gotten his hands onto a true motive to keep himself going; making you shine at your best.

Even if it requires his own demise in order to get you to that point.

Bonus section #1 : Similarities

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An early yet important part to take note of is that both would absolutely not hesitate to get violent when it comes to their darling. Both live in fairly dangerous environments and given the circumstances with their behaviour, they’re definitely going to be ferociously overprotective when it comes to you. When looking at both foxes, I do however see Miles as a much bigger threat when it comes to the safety of any other living being out there. Instead of attacking them out of pure instinct and an obvious outburst of rage like Nine would, Miles is eerily calm about the entire situation, instead making a mental note of the said mobian and making very well sure to make their life a living hell before coldly finishing them off in a brutal manner. And tho they’d both usually be the type preferring to avoid conflict, neither would be uncertain to shed blood or better said, even take lives for your sake.

However, there would definitely be a major weak point that could be used against the both of them with ease; affection. They both have no clue on how to indicate it and how to react to it. Being as lonely as the two have always been in their lives, it’s no surprise to say that such acts leave them completely bewildered and perhaps even somewhat flustered with zero doubt. It may often even be considered awkward in a way, but they seem to crave it to severe extends right at the same time. Unquestionably, they could be seen as touch starved, acting reserved and perhaps even defensive about the entire thing, but melting in your hands when you do the simplest thing such as giving a scratch behind their ears. Over time they’d have a higher chance of getting dependent on your physical love, it literally becoming closer to a need to get through the day. And having no real reasons to hold them back and restrict their limits this time, both foxes might even become somewhat overbearing torwards their darling in response to it.

Another thing is how they’d both seem like the type to get attached rather quickly torwards those who are decent enough to treat them properly. They’ve honestly lacked any kind of politeness for so long that they’d immediately get completely faithful torwards those who show them kindness. The only thing truly holding them back being the question lingering in the back of their heads how long they’ll be able to put up with them before they start treating them like everyone else had done. But like most variants of Tails do, they are honestly in such a high class of emotional devotion to a point where they cannot get themselves to care for it for long.

At last I’d like to mention is how they both wished for the better in the world at atleast some point in their lives. They want to live in a place where all is well and good, wanting to get back the childhood that they’ve been robbed of. Wanting to create a future with you next to them. And though Miles never got the chance to recreate a world to his own favour, he wants to improve the world for your sake. He knows the amount of power he holds over their entire societies, and he will make damned sure to make good use of it, not seeming to care much about the clear misuse of power. Every act shall be done to fit your benefits and they shall not stop until it’s completely adjusted to your preferences. Hypocritically believing it would validate each and every single death and perhaps even the fall of Mobius itself during the process. It would really just become your own world, and they, including Miles are only just living in it.

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[cornerstoreclown]

His Blessing

Summary: This is a short one-shot ( 3454 words approx. ) where the reader has convinced Art to roleplay a hostage situation with them where they get to be one of his victims. Don’t worry, the reader comes out of this fic fine! I genuinely promise, I would tell y’all if otherwise. The reader is gender neutral and has a vulva. The reader is not specifically mentioned to have breasts either, so that’s up for the reader to decide what their chest looks like. 

Content and Warnings: Consensual rough sexual activities, some light BDSM, vaginal fingering, biting, marking, some slight blood, hair pulling, knife play mention, mention of guns and the standard Art paraphernalia, corruption of the reader’s mind, slight transformation (?) that’s more along the line of new abilities of the reader during their descent to whatever Art is making of them. Art’s gift, as it were. Being his ‘favorite’ comes with benefits, after all! 

Author’s notes: This was VERY hard for me to write but extremely indulgent. I struggled a lot, HAHA. I’ve written smut plenty a time, but doing it in a canon x reader fic is something I’ve done rarely. This one took so much time because of that. Anyway, I hope that those who are into this sort of thing, enjoy it! For those that are looking for more domestic stuff, stay tuned--I got you. 

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“Safe word is red,” You tell Art, looking over your shoulder at the man who has just tied you up with metal chains to a chair. You don’t get a response, but you know he’s listening. Your hands are bound to the armrests, your ankles tied to the legs of the chair, thighs parted for him. He finishes the job with a gentle boop to your nose, and you feel butterflies in your stomach, before you feel a little bit of chills down your spine. The room was cold, and being in nothing but a tank top and shorts didn’t do you a whole lot of favors. 

However, given the circumstance, you anticipate that you’ll be warmed up in no time. 

Art barged his way into your life, and you willingly let him in. He kept you safe, and you gave him a home. You were his, and he was yours. You’re not sure at what point when you were together that you began to feel less and less like the you that you knew before the Miles County Clown, but whatever influence he’s placed upon you without your initial knowing, you like it. 

You were once shy, reserved. Now, he’s made you brave. He’s made you proud. You fear very little now. And for better or for worse, you’ve even found your mind a little twisted in the process, the thought of danger a thrill to you, and the very concept of others getting hurt a little… funny. People now notice how you look so much healthier, you seem happier, and that you’re far more charismatic than what you’d ever been. As of late, however, you’ve found yourself having a penchant for violence. The craving itches under your skin like a parasite, and hasn’t stopped since you first noticed it. It’s been driving your nuts, feeling like if you don’t act on it soon enough, you’ll go mad. 

You remember telling him about your feelings and those urges, and Art only looked surprised, but your familiarity with him allowed you to see past that response–he was pretending like he didn’t know what you were referring to. Whatever he was doing to you, he was aware of it, and you were too. And yet, you didn’t bother to slip away from it. The red string of fate that is wrapped around your soul is attached to his too, but he’s not ensnared in it like you are–no, he’s the one keeping you restrained in it and has the string between you both wrapped solely around his arm, pulling you along with him like it were a leash. 

The room is full of stained blood splatters at various locations that range anywhere from the ceiling, to the floors, and the walls. The chair you’re sitting on is also stained, and you’re not at all bothered by any of it. You’re not sure if Art had actually killed someone in here, if it was like this before he got here, or if the blood was his own–it was hard to say. He was pretty notorious for bleeding out and taking damage from time to time when wrangling someone. You’ve even tended to some of his wounds before in the past. What you do know is that the place smells a little musty, and there’s one light source, which is the single swaying lamp from the ceiling at the center of the room. Art has a workbench here full of improvised weapons behind you that you saw when you walked in. Things such as forks, glass bottles, scissors, screwdrivers, a hacksaw, an ice ax, pliers, some dental tools–it’s really a mix all out on the table and you didn’t have the slightest negative reaction when you saw it. In fact, you felt a little tickle.

So many things to torment you with if he wanted, and you’re exposing yourself to him trusting him to not kill you with any of it. He’s inflicted pain on you before because you’ve asked for it, and even then, you knew he was showing self restraint during those times, waiting to see if you’d beg for him to stop, and you never did. He’d cut you, choke you, slap you, yank you by your hair, but all of it was wanted. It was something he was even happy to oblige you on.

Something along the way of all those times, there was a change to your body. Your wounds healed fast in the way that his would, and the sensation of pain in your brain transformed to pleasure. It had to be because of him, you reasoned. There was no other way, there couldn’t be. He was changing you, not just mentally, but physically. You don’t know how, but you do know you don’t care to know anymore, because it is what it is at this point. He’s molded you into the perfect toy, built you up from the ground up in such a way that any sensation of pain only fires off reward signals in your brain. You’ve been completely rewired.

Being tied up and at his mercy is what you wanted. You told him yourself that you wanted to be in his victims shoes, that you wanted to feel the way that they felt. This wasn’t something that you ever initially wanted and even once would be horrified to humor. But people were allowed to change, you told yourself. You were allowed to change. What’s wrong with a little consensual roleplay with a killer clown? Nothing like feeling like you’re walking on a tightrope at all times.

Art runs a hand across the side of your face as he lingers behind you and the chair you sit in. You lean into his touch, feeling yourself melt a little. For someone who could kill and maim so effortlessly, those same hands were capable of much kindness, but only reserved for you. Hands that could rip your jaw clean off the hinged joints, don’t. They only caress. 

With his other hand, you feel his fingers massage your scalp before they sharply ensnare your hair and yank your head back to look up at him. It’s then that you are forced to see him looking down at you and towering over you, and you admit—he looks a little intimidating and there’s not a glimmer of kindness on his face to be found for the role he’s playing. The tug hurts a little and draws a light huff of air out of you, but you’re fine. You’re great, actually! You feel the way that your lips are beginning to turn upwards, the muscles on your face aching with just how wide your smile is. He’s smiling at you in turn, and when your eyes meet in understanding, you feel a glow erupt from your core, enveloping you like a warm blanket. He was aware of his position to play, but to see that flicker of awareness only solidifies your trust. He’s gone this far to put this much work into you, why stop now? 

Anticipation has your heart beginning to race and you sigh, desperate to get more air into your lungs to keep up with your body’s demand for oxygen.

Despite all these tools he has around him, you noticed earlier that he has none in hand. He could have used the knife on you again, he could have made you fellatiate a gun like last time. He could have pulled out a saw like that one night when he tried to frighten you. It’s during this smile of his that you realize that the choice of weapon tonight is not anything handheld, but instead part of him–his mouth. He bares his teeth behind those curled up lips like a hungry lion, and how fitting when you’re easy prey, having nowhere to run as you’re bound up like a little present for his consumption. His jaw is strong, capable of tearing through bone and sinew, and yet it only further riles you up. 

“I love you,” You tell him, and you mean it. You do. He knows you mean it, too. He enjoys the way that you adore him, and the way that your will bends so easily to him and your submission to him. You were at his mercy at all times. You’re alive because he decided to keep you alive. Every breath you took, it was because he let you. Even when the both of you were far apart, you felt him in you. His presence. His essence, implanted in the deepest depths of your being, growing and flourishing like an invasive vine feasting on the endless affection you held for him, strangling out any potential of who you could be without him. It’s gotten to the point where the thought of a life without him doesn’t even occur to you anymore. 

Art lets go of your hair and makes his way near your side now, bending down as he seizes your face by your jaw, meeting you at your level. It happens too fast, and you don’t have much time to react when he comes close. You barely have time to register that his lips are pressing to yours, but when you do, your stomach flips. You feel his tongue trying to pry its way in your mouth, and you let it happen, eyes screwing shut tightly and exhaling heavily through your nostrils as the familiar taste of his bitterness registers upon your tastebuds. It’s not terrible, surprisingly, and you’ve learned to crave it. To crave him.

His kisses are always intoxicating, and with each one, you feel as if a part of you is being sucked away. And maybe it is. He’s forceful against you during, pushing against you so hard that your head goes back a bit. You taste iron before you feel it—pain doesn’t have time to settle as pleasure takes over and you realize that the clown bit your tongue. It’s not a lot of blood, but enough that it floods the space between your kisses together and flavors the exchange. He’s sloppy when he kisses, and each time you try to pull back, he follows in such a passionate way that you think he’s almost trying to eat you. When he does finally back away, you innately know that your lips are stained red with your own blood. 

Your eyes meet his again when he pulls back, and there’s no sign of anything that indicates that he’s got much thought behind them beyond the calls of carnal desire, ravenous hunger, or brutal violence. 

You think it’s all three right now. At least, until he went for your neck.

“Art–!!” You only manage to get out his name, gasping as he drags the top row of his teeth across your throat, yanking your head back by your hair again, this time to expose your jugular to him proper. He gives a nip, then a suck and a kiss. Your hands ball into fists as you stare at the ceiling and the various blood spatters. It’s the only thing you COULD do. 

He’s marking you, and you can’t do a single damn thing about it. You can feel that where he’s doing it, that cheeky bastard is kissing and licking and sucking the spaces on your neck that’ll be hard to cover up if you don’t use something like a scarf or a turtleneck. Your eyes shut tightly again as you feel his other hand traveling down your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of fire that has your body temperature rising. You’re a whining and pathetic, whimpering mess, and you can’t do a damn thing. 

It didn’t take much to stimulate you, not when it came to Art. He had a way with you, a familiarity with your body that made you ache and yearn for him. He knew what you liked, what you didn’t, knew how to unravel you from the inside out like it was a game, because it was. This was a game, for now, until he decided it wouldn’t be. And you’d hope he’d never have a second thought otherwise. 

The way that his nails drag across your chest, where he could rip out your rapidly beating heart from your chest cavity and devour it whole, it bothers you not. It doesn’t bother you at the notion of how his hand is sliding down to your stomach, that he can rip and yank out your intestines to spill across the floor in front of you. Your eyes shoot open amid the kisses and nips at your neck when you recognize that his hand is slipping into your pants. He’s gone past your undergarments and settled that hand of his right between your thighs, with his middle finger teasingly tapping at your clit. 

You inhale sharply, face twisting as you lurch back in your seat, squirming as he keeps your head in place by your hair. His kisses are trailing down from your neck to your collarbone. Art bites there too, and it stings before it feels awash with the buzz of pleasure that endorphins provide you. He’s dragging it out, testing your patience while he’s sliding his fingers up and down between your thighs when you just want him to get straight to the point and fill you with him, whether it be his dick or his fingers. You ache, you feel empty without him, and he’s got you gritting your teeth, nails digging crescent shapes into your palm from your clenched fists.  

The clown drags his tongue back up your neck, causing you to shiver as the hair on your arms and the back of your neck stand up. Your face twists into something ugly when that hand of his between your thighs presses against you, palm against your clit and his fingers dangerously close to penetrating you. Instead of following through on that, he forces you to grind into his hand, and you do, desperately. 

The heat between your legs only grows, his touch stoking the fire. You know you’re soaking his fingers–you can feel it. When he lets go of your hair once more and you have control again, you move your neck to get a look at him. 

The moment you make eye contact is the moment that he inserts a finger in you. Your jaw drops and you gasp loudly. 

He wanted to see your face the instant that he slipped in, and he’s not disappointed, going so far as to part his lips in the way that you are now, a reflection for you to see of how your own expression appears, like a mirror. Only, he eventually gives you an amused and twisted smile.

“Art…” You get his name out a second time, but once he’s got you set, he’s back at your neck again like some sort of goddamn vampire. This time you expose your throat to him in devoted submission, offering him the opportunity to rip your trachea straight out of you between his teeth if he wanted. Instead, he bites and sucks again. Your neck is going to be so bruised up after all this, you think. He wanted people to know you were his, and his alone. He’s made that quite clear, and that’s not a fact he’s shied away from in the past with you. Hickeys are nothing compared to literal murder he’s done for you as a means of showing those feelings. 

One finger turns to two after a few thrusts, and he stretches you out so good with both fingers. He makes a scissoring motion with his index and middle, taking the time to prepare you for the third one. 

You can only moan.

He’s even taking his time with the pacing, putting his whole hand into it as his fingers move in and out in such a way that, while still satisfying, you wish he’d go faster. You’re not chasing your release–he’s bringing it to you, building you up in such a sickeningly sweet and leisurely way that’s torture, and it’s plain to see on your face. No amount of improvised weapons could make you look as agonized as you are when the eventual third finger goes in and he’s got you whimpering and shaking. The only noise that’s heard in this otherwise silent space is you, the rattling of your metal chains keeping you stuck to this chair, and the sounds of Art’s fingers sliding in and out of you. 

His easy pace begins to transition into a faster one, and you feel the shift that would otherwise have your legs shut if they weren’t forcibly chained open. 

“Fuck…” You whimper. 

The sound of his hand smacking into your thighs is loud, to the point where it’s eventually the only thing in your ears you can really register, and you’re sure it’s the same for him too. 

Your climax is close, and you feel it rising inside you like an ocean tide. Art’s kissing your shoulder again, but you're too lost in the tingling between your legs. It’s hard to think right now—he’s since gone from pulling you up the mountain to pushing you right to the ledge, and now he fully intends on shoving you off.  

You feel your muscles tighten and your toes curl, your breaths becoming sharp as your lips part, jaw slack. He can feel it coming, he can feel the way that your thighs and muscles clench and your body begins to tense up.

You feel as if your soul is about to separate from your body, until there’s a slight jolt of pain, right in the middle space between your shoulder and neck. Warmth and endorphins flood to the source as your eyes open and your head turns, where you see that Art is biting you. 

It’s too late, not even those jaws could seize your soul to put it back into your body as your orgasm wracks throughout you, the initial pain that’s since transformed into pleasure working in tandem with his fingers between your thighs. He did it on purpose, waiting for the perfect moment, and it worked.

Your eyes shut again and behind your lids are fireworks, a collage of colors all at once, and then there’s nothing. You feel light as a feather, and then the steady decline as you feel yourself weighed down by gravity again. It’s enough all at once for your head to slump. 

You need a minute or two to recover. And Art gives it to you. He’s at least that merciful.

As you regain yourself again, you feel his fingers slip out of you, leaving you empty, but satisfied, and when you finally lift your head, he’s licking his fingers, tongue curling around his digits, reveling in the taste of you. He’s looking rather shameless about it too, sucking his fingers like he’s just handled the best dessert. You even see that your blood is on his lips, smeared down his white chin. The muscle between your shoulder and neck has a distinct marking of where his teeth were, along with the unmistakable crimson smudges that you know is your drying blood. The wound is already clotted, impressively enough, your skin is well on its way to knitting itself back to pristine condition as if nothing had ever happened to begin with. In three days tops, it’ll be gone. Pretty impressive, actually.

You can tell he’s smug, even though it might not be direct. It’s there. You know it is. It makes you huff another laugh. You’re not in any pain. You’re fine, fit as a fiddle. 

You have his blessing, after all. 

“Shit,” You mumble, just above a whisper. “That was good. Can you free me?” 

When you expect that he’d oblige your request, Art has a glint in his eye, with a smile to follow through. You thought you were done, but it’s clear you’re not. Your stomach flips again in delight.

He instead heads somewhere out of view behind you, presumably to his bench, but you don’t really know. Was he finally getting the knife out? Was he going to try and scare you? You’re not sure, but you’re ready for anything. He’s trained you well. 

No need to worry about strapping yourself in for the ride, you’re pretty secure as is right now, aren’t you? 

“Remember, the safe word is red,” You remind him, glancing over your shoulder. 

His back is to you when you look behind you. He’s fiddling with something purposefully hidden from your view, but he does give you a glance, and an understanding nod. He knows. 

You look forward again, face turned away from him, and smile to yourself.

The fun was just getting started. 

[redstringraven]

some lil OC tidbits using a server template! i wanna start sharing and talking about them a bit more outside of my artwork just... both as a form of documentation and also because it makes me happy. c:

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Cassia Dubois five random facts:

mains boo in most, if not all, mario games. if boo's not an option, she mains peach or yoshi.

a nervous laugher; will start giggling when nervous or unsure how to handle a situation. this has mixed results.

gives nicknames to basically everyone. if you're a friend in any form or fashion, you will get a few nicknames unique to you. (i.e., mikey's nicknames are 'tangerine', 'champ', and 'jell-o').

will sometimes text exclusively in emojis. leo can never decipher it, and sometimes it drives raph up a wall (she does this on purpose).

professional french fry thief.

favorite food: snickerdoodles or pretzels dipped in cool whip least favorite food: anything with the texture of cottage cheese cause of stress: having an inconsistent friend group at school; after the triceraton invasion, she worries about her dad a lot while he travels for work (he's a train conductor) a quote I associate with them: "cooler than a strawberry shake~!"

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Nyxram five random facts

would not participate in the battle nexus despite that she'd most certainly win; she doesn't enjoy "combat for sport".

can fluently speak a handful of languages throughout the galaxy and can understand/read several more.

favorite third-earth instrument is the harp.

lowkey fascinated by third-earth's older technology (gramophones, steam-engine trains, etc) but unimpressed by the modern technology.

currently training traximus; she worries that, as the rebellion's leader, he'll quickly get targets on his back from other triceratons who disagree with the shift in power or from outside parties looking to further stir the current power vacuum.

favorite food: whatever the triceraton equivalent of a warm bagel with cream cheese is least favorite food: pizza (sorry, mikey); anything fried, swimming in grease, or generally unhealthy cause of stress: her past, her future, her parents a quote i associate with them: "no one will know the violence it took to become this gentle"

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Gwyneth five random facts

can mimic bilelon* bugles well enough that they'll sometimes call back to her.

on third-earth she leans into she/her pronouns for simplicity's sake but is genderqueer given liáfsini's approach of the subject, as well as the galaxy's lack of a binary.

is the 'younger twin' and, therefore, considered the parasitic spirit. she was consistently shunned by other liáfsians and forbidden to participate in ceremonies or druidic practices.

arguably a better climber than the boys due to a childhood spent in the woods and exploring old liáfsian ruins. could parkour the city in her sleep.

enjoys sketching and gardening but rarely gets to indulge in either due to consistently being on guard/on the run. her art-style is more realism leaning, and the lines weave into each other as though she never lifts the pencil from paper.

favorite food: liáfsian equivalent of barmbrack least favorite food: isn't picky; food is food as long as it won't kill her cause of stress: darach; a loss of her own identity due to survival; her unshaken determination to get ash back in a body a quote i associate with them: "the woods are lovely, dark and deep. but i have promises to keep, and miles to go before i sleep, and miles to go before i sleep."

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Aislinn five random facts

will rarely reveal she's sentient before she or gwyn deem someone trustworthy; often plays 'inanimate' and is always listening and watching; it's made her a bit of a gossip.

loves watching soap operas with master splinter and discussing the episodes with him afterward.

is the 'older twin' and, therefore, considered the original spirit. despite still being viewed as an ill-omen, she was not shunned as severely as gwyn. though sometimes invited to ceremonies or allowed access to other community practices, ash refused to participate if gwyn couldn't.

on third-earth, she leans more into she/her pronouns for simplicity's sake along with gwyn but does also seem to prefer femme-leaning gender identities galaxy-wide; more of a demi-girl.

both ash and gwyn can perform a liáfsian take on kulning, which they used not only to call to the bilelon and sithóran**, but also to locate each other while exploring the woods as kids; ash's is much more in line with traditional kulning, which is to say it's higher in pitch and is more melodic. gwyn's is lower in pitch and a bit more melancholic/haunting. in the extremely rare situation gwyn and ash get separated in present time, ash will kuln as a way to signal to gwyn without fully giving away her sentience or presence in the weapon.

favorite food: liáfsian equivalent of barmbrack least favorite food: doesn't remember cause of stress: darach; being physically dead; consistently worried about gwyn's mental and physical well-being a quote i associate with them: "i was with you before we were even born."

---*---

*bilelon are a sacred fae-fauna in liáfsini; they vaguely resemble elk **sithóran are fauna in liáfsini; they vaguely resemble maned wolves

[i-eat-worlds]

Alex and Friends Part Two

More of the story that nobody asked for! Alex punches firsts and asks questions later. cw: cursing, violence, blood, misunderstandings, minor medical stuff “She's gone again,” Eric announced. He was starting to get nervous. What was supposed to be a simple retrieval had gone south very quickly. The point of this had been to get her out before an attack, but they’d been a couple hours too late. Alexis had collapsed, and was currently bleeding out in a hallway.

Eric had become a sort of living heart monitor while Joseph dressed her wound. Eric’s best guess had been that a bullet had grazed her hip. It was bleeding quite a lot though, and it had been for far too long. To make matters worse, she appeared to be borderline hypothermic. Her clothing and her hair were soaked, and she smelled like dirty river. They needed to staunch her bleeding, and get her warmed up before she entered the blood loss-hypothermia death spiral. “Done,” Joseph said, finishing off his bandaging. Alex hadn’t stirred the whole time he’d be bandaging her wound, and he hadn’t been exactly gentle about it. He’d known Eric long enough that he was starting to get worried just about now. Eric started to stand. “Her pulse is getting thready. Let’s get her to the van.”

Joseph scooped her up into bridal carry as Eric talked to Avia, telling her that they were coming. Quickly, they rushed down the stairs. Time was of the essence if they were going to save her.

*** Alex knew that she’d been moved. Even with her brain a million miles away from her body, she could tell. It’d been happening recently, whenever somebody touched her too much. Or at all, really. The only time she could stand physical contact was during a fight. She kind of was glad she wasn’t conscious. Whoever she’d let capture her were people she wasn’t really dying to meet, and this time, her brain had run far enough to escape the pain. Normally it pierced into her brain like shards of broken glass, but today’s void was thankfully pain free.

It was also, surprisingly, warm. Alex had expected it to be cold. The Vltava wasn’t renowned for its warmth, nor for its cleanliness. It suddenly dawned on her that her graze was going to be infected. Almost surely. And it was going to be even harder to nd supplies to treat it with, considering her current captivity. Maybe her captors would give her supplies to treat it with. That required hope, though, which she found scarce at the moment. Alex wasn’t good at hope.

The void was pierced by a distant, faraway voice. “I think she’s waking up.”

The words sent Alex’s heart rate through the ceiling. Were they watching her? Creeps. She made an attempt to pull her eyes open. Nothing happened for what seemed like forever but was probably only a few seconds, but then her eyelids parted to reveal a red-light bathed ceiling. Red light, meant to preserve night vision. Alex had never struggled with that. It looked empty, but then the second man’s face from the hallway entered her vision. At least, Alex thought it was the man from the hallway. Her vision was very blurry from the brightness of the lights.

Ultimately, it wouldn’t have mattered if Santa Claus had appeared over her head, the end result would have been the same. She instinctively reached out to punch the blurry man in the face.

Pulling herself to sitting, Alex freed her hands and let them go straight for his throat. She felt a sting in her arms and side as she moved, but it didn’t stop her. They’d taken her combat knife, but that would only prolong their lives, not save them.

Alex felt whatever gurney they’d had her lying on wiggle as she pushed off it. She took a quick note of surroundings-what appeared to be the back of a van fitted with surveillance equipment, and a rather impressive medical suite. Three other people were already pushing themselves into action. It occurred to her that this was a fight she probably wouldn’t win. She didn’t need to win. She needed to escape.

Alex pivoted, having stunned the man enough that she could make for doors. She darted over the gurney. Before she could escape, a hand wrapped around her ankle and pulled her back. Her stomach caught on the edge of the gurney, and her mouth popped open as the wind was knocked out of her. The impact left her reeling, and that was just enough time for eight hands to seize her, dragging her back onto the gurney. She lay there, panting, willing her lungs to catch air, as the man from the hallway started to speak. “I need you to calm down, Shevchenko. You’re going to injure yourself.” He spoke in a voice that had far too much worry in it. More importantly, however, he’d called her by her name. That was a very, very bad sign.

Alex bucked and fought against her captors. So many hands clamped down hard on her ankles and wrists, holding her arms and thighs. Only one hip was pinned down, her injured one left untouched for some reason. Even then it was too much. “Get fucking off me!” She yelled, trying to wiggle herself free. “I can’t do that until I know you’ll let us help.” He said calmly, his hands still pressed against her shoulders. “We’re INSUPA, we’re your friends.” At first, Alex thought that the INSUPA mention was a lie to get her to calm down. But, when he readjusted his grip on her shoulders, his sleeve moved up just enough to reveal something that made her reconsider. It was a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. It was a stylized olive branch, with an anatomically correct drawing of a heart placed over it. A long time ago, Alex had nearly gotten one of those, before other life events superseded. The unocial INSUPA medical branch logo. “I’m not part of INSUPA. I didn’t call their help line. Why are you here?”

“Albatross, Shevchenko. We’ve been briefed.” The man said, “A supervillain got wind of you, we were sent in to evacuate. My boss was going to meet you in your apartment to chat, but you collapsed.” “Next time, lead with that.” Alex said as she relaxed, exhaustion flooding her veins. The hands released her, and she fell limp. She reminded herself to have a strong word with her handler about the next time they send someone for her.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps

[hebuiltfive]

The Alaskan Train Crash: Alaska.

It's just another average day at International Rescue.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Additional Tags: Artist!Virgil, Post season three, slight AU, Mentions of hospitals, Mentions of Blood, description of train crash, Light Angst Series: Part 1 of The Long Game Summary: It's just another average day at International Rescue.

Notes: We're getting into the thick of the action (for this part anyway)! Not a lot really happens,. Sorry it's a shorter chapter than the last, but I had to begrudgingly make it a separate chapter so the next one didn't seem so chunky. We'll call it a filler chapter.

Read it below or on AO3 here.

By the time Virgil and Jeff arrived, Scott and Brains had already taken seats in the sunken round area of the lounge. Alan and Gordon had long since put their game away and they too were now sitting. Worried faces filled the room. Hovering over the central table was a blue hologrammatic scheme of what looked to be a freight train. Beside it, hovered the image of John from Thunderbird Five. All eyes were fixed on them.

Jeff took his seat at his desk whilst Virgil joined Scott on one of the couches. “What’s going on, John?” Their father asked, voice full of authority. Some days it had felt like he’d never left.

“Derailment in the Northern Alaska region.” John replied. “A freight train crashed around an hour ago. Initial research showed it belonged to the GDF. I can’t get a reading of anything on board.”

“Crew?” Scott asked.

“Three, apparently. Initial scans I made after I received the call showed none, but the woman confirmed two unconscious alongside herself. She was…” John uncharacteristically trailed off.

“John?”

“Let’s just say that ‘distressed’ is a mild term for how she sounded. Whatever you guys do, I suggest you be as gentle as possible.”

“You can update us as we fly.” Scott said as stood from his seat. “Gordon, you go with Virgil. Alan, stay here with Brains. Try and see if you can find something in the schematics that could have warranted a crash. I’m sure the GDF will want to know where the fault lies.”

“I’ll try and get in contact with Casey. If she doesn’t already know about this, I have a feeling she’ll want to.” Jeff added.

“FAB.” Scott nodded toward his father as he pressed his back up against the wall, hands rising to hold the light fixtures. Jeff watched from behind his desk as the three boys launched into action.

Debris littered for miles. The devastation was worse in person than what the scans had shown. Scott had flown Thunderbird One at top speed to arrive as quickly as he could. Once he arrived, he performed a quick fly-by. Only then did the realisation of the extent of the crash sink in. With the whole thing buckled and broken, he was surprised that anyone had even survived the wreck. It looked a mess. Having plowed into solid mounds of snow that had been gathered on the sides of the tracks, he figured the train must have been going at some speed when it had derailed.

“Brains, what speed was this thing travelling at?” Scott asked when he’d opened up a comms link between himself, base and Thunderbird Two.

“It’s impossible to tell without d-data.” International Rescue’s engineer, one of the best in the world, replied hesitantly. Scott could practically hear the cogs of Brains’s brain working, trying to find a suitable answer with the data that had been presented. “This isn’t a vehicle I’m f-fam-familiar with.”

“The GDF rarely use freight trains to haul their stuff around.” Virgil added from his ship that was still flying to the danger zone. “Planes are much more convenient and efficient, not to mention safer.”

“So that begs the question as to what was so special about this stuff that warranted them going the old-fashioned route?” Scott mused, mostly to himself.

“That still doesn’t answer how the crash happened.” Gordon chimed in from the co-pilot’s seat of Two. “The GDF are sticklers when it comes to safety.”

“Maybe it was sabotage?” Alan suggested.

The word sabotage never sat well with Scott. Too often was that word linked with their arch-nemesis. One would have thought that after the stunt the Hood had pulled in their mission to retrieve their father from space, and his subsequent arrest, Scott shouldn’t have been so worried about him being a possible factor. However, the news Captain Wayne Rigby had broken to Kayo about The Hood’s breakout from prison a few months back meant that it was again possible for the The Hood to have been the cause. No-one knew how he’d managed to get out of such a high-security holding cell, and Rigby had taken the blow personally. It had taken Kayo weeks to convince him not to quit over it. Since then, the GDF had pulled out all the stops in trying to relocate the criminal, with no success. Despite Casey’s constant reassurance that they’d soon catch him again, the mere fact that The Hood was out there left Scott feeling weighed down. Thoughts over the possibility of him being involved were now swirling around his mind. It was instinct. He couldn’t help it.

No, that was no good. He had to adopt Brains’s logic; no evidence, no proof, no conclusion. Scott couldn’t allow himself to get distracted by possibilities. Right now, there was only one thing he knew for certain; there were people down there who needed his help. “I’m gonna to jetpack down, see if I can find our caller and take it from there when Virgil and Gordon arrive.”

“Be careful, Scott.” Jeff’s voice, Scott noticed, was laced with concern more than command. Perhaps Scott wasn’t the only one who was worrying over possible causes.

It took them almost an extra half an hour to reach the danger zone, but eventually the roar of Thunderbird Two’s engines echoed through the snowy gorge as it came into view over the wreckage. It hovered over the site, Virgil performing his own fly-by to assess the damage, before the ship came in to land next to her sister. The powerful VTOL engines were enough to make the ice on the mountains shake.

Scott’s voice came through the comms in a shaky laugh of his own. “Careful, Virgil. We don’t want to cause an avalanche too.”

“An avalanche?” The unfamiliar voice came from behind Scott on the comms. The woman, panicked and afraid, began to hyperventilate. “Please. Please! God, I don’t want to die here. Please, help me! Please!”

Gordon’s brows creased with worry as the woman’s pleas echoed through the cockpit of Two. “I take it you found our caller.”

The brothers in the green behemoth exchanged worried glances. John hadn’t been wrong about her being distressed.

“Remember what we said, Barbara.” Scott was clearly talking to the trapped woman now, his hologram that hovered over the instruments in Two showing him turned to his side. “Breathe in and breathe out. Try to stay calm.” Scott emulated the breathing with her for a few minutes, and only when he was convinced she was calm again, did he turn back to his brothers. “We need to get them out of her ASAP. Virgil, I need you and your heavy-lifting talents down here now.”

“I’m on my way.” Virgil unbuckled himself from the pilot’s seat. He turned to his co-pilot as he began his descent into the depths of his ship. “Gordon, stand by. We may need you if the snow does decide it wants to come down and join the party.”

“FAB.” Gordon replied, already assessing the virtual scans of the scene that John had sent down from Thunderbird Five. They were all in for a long night.

[inkwell-and-dagger]

[Refuge]

A/N: very much inspired by this amazing post by @/sickophantic!!! grr grr I'm not sure if this is gonna be canon (most likely not) but it's half 1 am as of writing this a/n and I love making characters suffer uwu. vesk belongs to the man, the myth, the autism creechur xirself /pos /lh, @paranoia-exe!!

CW: mentioned arguments / fighting, accidentally hurting loved one / caretaker, violence, A Lot Of Guilt N Angst™

DYNAMICS:

Rayan Hyacinth (he/it) — Whumpee

Evelyn Larkins (she/her) — Past Caretaker

(mentioned) Vesker Faithern (he/him), Madison Maguire (she/her) — Current Caretakers (in canon)

—> —> —> —> —> —>

Rayan had done it again; oh, the amount of times he'd vowed never to do it again, all shallow promises simply because his emotions are too fucking unpredictable. Vesker and Rayan had fought again, and lo and behold, it escalated to the point where he'd hurt Vesker. His own fiance — one of the few people who still hadn't left him despite everything he'd done and went through, every time he shed other people's blood and every time he'd shed blood of his own. Every rough or gentle kiss, every grasp of their intertwining hands and every scratch mark left by the immortals nails. Vesker had stuck with him through everything. Rayan couldn't comprehend how Vesker still wasn't sick of him at this point.

But that didn't matter. The two were separated, and nobody could get hurt. Vesker had fled, like he always did, to Madison's, finding respite there until Rayan's rage had subsided. He couldn't blame him. Rayan had taken the opportunity to seek comfort of his own, trekking tiredly in the darkness of midnight.

It was early morning when Rayan had arrived at his destination. It took a couple hours to go there on foot, and Rayan immediately regretted it, calves aching as he knocked on a front door he only vaguely remembered.

Soft grey eyes and a welcoming face framed by short blonde hair greeted him. Evelyn did a short double-take, recognizing Rayan as the dishevelled man she'd taken in all those months ago.

"Evelyn..." Rayan choked out through eyes misty with tears, falling into the shorter woman's embrace. Cold wind was replaced by warmth as Evelyn gently pulled Rayan inside and closed the door, arms wrapping comfortingly around the immortal's torso.

Evelyn didn't try and ask him what was wrong; not yet. She knew that, in time, he would tell her. But right now, she needed to get him warmed up. Soon enough, their embrace was replaced with a blanket across Rayan's shoulders, and his tension melted away like thawed ice. His tired eyes softened and closed with a content sigh.

"Do you need anything, Rayan?" Evelyn's soft voice sounded in his ear, but Rayan just shook his head and slumped against her. Oh so similar to the first time Rayan stumbled into her welcoming arms.

Evelyn let him rest. Sleep away all that sadness welling up inside his chest, until Evelyn could return him safely back home. She wondered what had happened to cause him to trek all these miles just to go see her, but.. he'd tell her tomorrow, surely.

—> —> —> —> —> —>

[joz-yyh]

Love Host - Chapter 3

SUMMARY: A prequel to my fic, “Good Boy.” Takes place during the final scene of the game and the journey home afterwards. Miles becomes the host and the Walrider intends to consummate their bond. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: E (for graphic depictions of violence / gore / character death+rebirth / psychological torture / xenophilia / masturbation / handjobs / anal fingering / tentacle sex)

PAIRING: Walmiles (WalriderxMiles)

WORD COUNT: 3,349

Read on Ao3: Here

A/N: I swear this fanfic has a plot, we just haven't gotten there yet because we need to cover a lot of smut first (I am almost joking).

Also, if you haven’t seen it yet, you can check out the progress of My Wamiles Art, but be warned, it's NSFW!!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–——

It's early afternoon by the time Miles wakes up.  The sun is shining through the blinds, bathing the messy geometric contours of his modest, modern-esque flat in a golden glow.

Miles rubs the sleep from his eyes, yawning loud and wide despite having slept half the day away. He's stretching out the cricks in his limbs when the Walrider exits sleep mode and powers on, attune to it's host's internal clock.

The man recoils at first, startled by the dark, imposing figure, somehow forgetting the human-sized nanobot was still there despite having shared a bed with it, ensnared in the possessive hold of claws and tentacles.

The dissociation only lasts a heartbeat, his body remembering even if his jumbled mind took a moment to catch up, becoming calm again.

The brunette suppresses a chuckle as he turns towards his companion. This evil bio-weapon looks so out of place in the daylight, in the domestic setting of his bedroom, holding him like he's something precious.

Such a stark contrast to the Walrider that stalked under the cover of darkness, illuminated by neon emergency beacons and cold laboratory testing facilities. The same fearsome weapon that hunted patients, ripped out spines and spattered blood across narrow halls looked almost cute, charming in photographic filter of a beautiful autumn day.

Miles tilts his head, eyes catching the odd reflection of colors skittering over the obsidian skin, giving it the appearance of labradorite. He runs a finger over it, seeking the brilliance hidden underneath, his inquisitive tendencies getting the better of him.

He traces the jut of the Walrider collar bone to the curve of it's shoulder, rolling his palm over the joint there, the vibrant streaks of bio-luminescence shining like the trails of shooting stars.

The Walrider is more than happy to let Miles explore, an excitement decorating it's features as it's host dedicates himself to the task.

The brunette continues down the line of the monster's arm, sliding his hand over well-defined muscle, the same teal patterns spread throughout it's bizarre anatomy. Miles is in awe over it, of how it could change consistency, function and appearance, wondering if this iteration of it's skin meant it was left open, unarmored.

The Walrider was developed as a weapon after all and Miles could certainly see the advantages of a thick, abrasive exterior, but if his partner chose to convey it's trust by lowering it's defenses to show him this secret, well, Miles' heart twinges just a bit at the possibility.

The reporter guides his hand back up to stroke at the sharp angles of the entities' cheek, gazing into it's striking eyes situated behind the exoskeleton. The gentle caress of Miles' thumb along its jaw is lulling it's eyes closed, and soon the demon is leaning into it's host's bandaged palm, a chitter of contentment escaping through it's jaws.

Faced with such unabashed adoration, Miles dares to steal a kiss, the compulsion to do so proving too strong to resist. Pink lips purse against the side of it's mouth in not quite a chaste peck, but a firm lingering indulgence. The dark skin is warm under his lips, but it feels rubbery and plastic, an imitation of something inadvertently human.

"Thanks for staying with me," Miles says, a gentle smile on his face as he pulls away, blue eyes staring fondly at his handiwork.

His choice of his words is absurd really, ridiculous. The Walrider couldn’t leave him even if it wanted to. They’re both viscerally connected, permanent implants to each other’s existence, unable stray too far apart from each other without the consequence of death. Not that Miles had any concrete evidence to back this intrinsic theory up, it was really more of a hunch, and while his inheritance of the Walrider failed to come with a disclaimer or a user’s manual (he wouldn’t have read it even if it did), Miles wasn’t about to test the physical range of their limitations any time soon.

The machine is frozen and Miles swears he hears a cursed dial-up noise as it processes the kiss he had just given it and the man hopes the machine won't try to bite his face off in a misinterpretation.

Thankfully, it doesn't. Instead, it mimics Miles actions, claws outstretched to clasp the human's cheek in return. It leans forward, but without any lips of its own, all it can manage is a brush of teeth. The sharp points of it's canines sting only a little as they graze over his skin, sometimes chipping open a superficial mark.

A purr reverberates from inside it's throat as it rubs the softer sides of it's misshapen face all over Miles, a little too roughly in it's exuberance, the man's brunette locks of hair in total disarray.

"You're in a good mood, huh," Miles says with an amused chuckle, trying to push the Walrider's face away from his to gain some reprieve, although halfheartedly because he can't say he's had too many pleasant "morning afters" like this one.

The man doesn't know what prompts him to ask, or why he's hit with the sudden spike of anxiety, but the words are leaving his mouth before he can swallow them back.

"Did you enjoy last night, too," he asks in small, quiet voice that is entirely unlike him.

There’s an infinitesimal, but rapidly becoming larger part of him that wants the Walrider to have a choice in the matter even if Miles didn’t have one when it came to becoming the host. He wants to be a better master than Wernickle was, to honor Billy by being magnanimous in his mission, one that allowed the Walrider some semblance of free will and independence as unfathomable and ludicrous as that may be.

The Walrider squeaks with indisputable affirmation, pressing closer, smothering the human with the dense mass of it’s bulk. Their legs are tangled together, claws wrapping around his clothed back to bring them as close as they possibly could be and that should be enough of an indication to set Miles scattered mind at ease.

"Hey, hey, easy now, tiger!  We can't stay in bed all day! We're on the run from an evil corporation remember," Miles exasperates, prying the entity off before they spend another few hours engaged in some awkward rendition of coitus that involves a number of tentacles.

"No offense," Miles tacks on for good measure. Murkoff was it's creator and he didn't know if the Walrider had any lingering attachments to the private group that designed it however doubtful the probability seemed.

"We have a lot to do today and the clock is ticking."

We? Did he just say we? When did it become we? He chews on the word in his mind and it doesn't taste entirely unsavory, just different. Miles leaves the thought alone for now because he can always return to it later if he really needs to, but he has more pressing matters that don’t involve an existential crisis.

The Walrider seems to understand the situation all too well as it's lanky form deflates into the mattress, whining in annoyance as it mopes and pouts like a neglected pet. Miles gives his companion's slumped behavior an inquisitive brow, reaching over to pat the sulking dip of it's cranium in consolation.

"Hey, I'll try to be quick. A few hours tops. Just be ready if someone comes knocking," Miles tells it with an air of impending dread and the Walrider snorts at him dejectedly, not nearly as concerned with the threat of assassins as it was with the denial of cuddle time.

Miles sighs, dismissive, getting out of bed to go about his routine. He stops by the bathroom to brush his teeth and raid the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. His hangover isn't quite as bad as he anticipated it would be, but he could still feel it's lingering effects the moment he started walking around.

He cups his hand under the faucet, bringing the water to his lips as he swallows down the chalky white pills. That done, he decides to take a quick shower, thinking It might be the last opportunity he gets for awhile.

He leaves the bathroom door open and it's not long before he notices the Walrider curiously peeping in on him, it's dark outline huddled around the door frame as Miles stands behind the clear liner of the shower curtain.

Every now and then the reporter flicks his eyes over to it, watchful, wondering if it would try something to distract him, but to his surprise, the entity remains a respectable distance away, simply observing. By the time he steps out of the shower, the Walrider has disappeared, probably so Miles wouldn't catch him outright for voyeurism.

The brunette dries off, wrapping the towel around his waist as he heads in the direction of his dresser for a change of clothes. He fits his arms through the sleeves of a white collared shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and yanking it into place.

A gasp escapes Miles as a rugged masculine form sidles up to his back, spooning him before he can finish fastening the first button closed. Claws glide over his hips, dropping the fuzzy towel down his thighs to fall to the floor.

The beginnings of arousal stir in his belly and Miles internally chastises himself for it, knowing he can't afford to get carried away again.

"We can't do this right now," Miles reasons, "I promise I'll show you more later, but we have more important things to take care of first."

The Walrider extracts itself by a few centimeters, digesting this information, but as it wrestles with the concepts of self-restraint and carnal desire, the newly awakened heat the human had perpetuated eventually wins out.

Miles finds himself pinned to the wooden dresser he's standing in front of, the machine roughly keeping him in place with the superhuman strength of it's body. Miles hisses, the metal pull handles of his dresser drawers digging grooves into his flesh. He cranes his neck around, glaring at the machine from over his shoulder for it's excessive use of force.

"Didn't you hear me? I said we have to go. There's no time."

The Walrider seems to think there is.

Instant and wild sensation, molten and all-consuming as a pair of clawed hands trap the reporter's half-hard dick by the hilt. Miles jumps, involuntarily bucking his hips into it's firm grip and he cries out in a broken moan, the machine squeezing around him just the right amount, stroking him to fullness in rampant succession. Miles' resolve is diminishing faster by the second, growing less and less important the more those gruesome claws slide over his shaft again and again.

This probably wasn't a good lesson for the Walrider to learn, that Miles would eventually give in with enough prodding and persuasion, but he can school the machine on the importance of boundaries and mutual consent later because by comparison, this shouldn't take nearly as long as a discussion on complicated human relationship dynamics would.

Tentacles are wriggling against his entrance now, pushing in, caustic and raw, about to tear him open.

"Wait," He begs, his legs shaking, "Fuck -- just wait -- you --you need to wet them first. It makes things easier, more enjoyable."

The tentacles in his ass cease their advances, retreating backwards. One fully withdraws, soothing around the abused muscle with alleviating touches while the other remains a few inches inside, biding it's time.

Another set of tendrils travel up to Miles lips, recalling what the man did with his fingers the previous night, seeking the wet crevice of his mouth.

Miles shudders, accepting one of them in, licking over the surreal, jelly-like appendage, studying the taste and feel with his tongue. He sucks on it, wanton, the round tip lashing against the the roof of his mouth then tickling the back of his throat. His jaw is pushed to open wider as the second tentacle sneaks inside, and he can't help the strings of saliva that drip down from his chin, practically drooling over the two phallic-like limbs.

Having been sufficiently lathered, the tentacles leave the warm sanctity of the man's mouth and Miles misses them almost immediately, his jaw feeling stretched and empty without their residency. As if reading his mind, more come to replace his supply, delving past his lips, dancing along his tongue and Miles is hooked on the sensation.

The spit-slicked tentacles return to Miles' ass, allowing the smaller one keeping him loose, acting as a plug, to slip out first. The reporter moans around the tentacles in his mouth, trying to still his trembling body as he's filled to the brim, his insides now slackened and offering little resistance to the bigger girth.

Thick roots come to wrap around his weak, buckling knees, sturdy and more fortifying then the others and Miles can't do much besides hang on for the ride, his hands clinging onto the tall wooden dresser for support.

The Walrider's claws abandon his erection in favor of toying with the pert nipples obscured by the open flaps of his shirt and Miles can't even spare a complaint because the tentacles in his mouth slither out to coil around his dick, shrinking and expanding in sleek, velvety transitions.

"Ahh aha aah, fuck," His voice is raspy, strained so, he swallows, wetting his throat.

"There! theretherethere -- ahhh, fuck yesss."

Miles' howls of ecstasy spur the Walrider on, fueling it, accelerating it's movements, driving harder, pumping faster, matching Miles voice with a guttural thrum of it's own.

The demons makeshift tongue licks Miles' ear, his cheek, stroking down the side of his neck until it' jagged circle of teeth sink into the juncture of the man's shoulder, ruining a perfectly good shirt. Miles screams, feeling the rivulets of blood pour out from the love bite.

The man let's himself go, somehow finding the sense to warn the Walrider of his release.

"I am -- I am coming," he groans, muffling his words into the cuff of his wrist as he convulses, splattering the tentacles and the dresser in hot, sticky fluid.

Miles is attempting to catch his breath as a cum-smeared tentacle bumps the curve of his bottom lip and the man can't say he’s keen on the taste of himself very much.

"Eck! You can clean them yourself, you know," he grouses, batting the soiled tentacles away.

The Walrider applies this recommendation, tasting it's host's seed and Miles can't deny the blush that dusts his cheeks as he ogles the machine drinking up what's left of the milky white on it's tentacles.

The brunette shakes his head, clearing it, remembering what he was doing before he was so rudely interrupted.

"Fuck, now I have to change and clean up again." 

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

It takes him about another few hours to pack, to condense his entire existence into four black duffel bags, the lot of them placed conveniently near the front door.

He'd sent out about a dozen encrypted emails to what reliable connections he had, shared all the notes he'd kept of his experience at Mount Massive, about Murkoff's dirty little secrets. He made copies of what he could salvage from his glitchy camera footage, plans to drop the snuff film in the mailbox of every local news station and then some.

As a final hurrah, a eulogy for what was once a normal life, Miles is having a smoke, leaning his elbows on the pane of his open window. He takes in the details of the neighborhood, the concrete jungle of domestication and cramped run-down buildings that he had never really cared to appreciate before. The only reason he finds himself doing so now is because he doubts he will ever lay eyes on this city street again after today.

The Walrider was tame, well-behaved and non-invasive while he worked to sort though his files, the baggage both figuratively and literally so Miles doesn't mind when it approaches him from behind with claws wrapped around his waist, teeth nuzzling the back of his neck.

"I made copies of everything. I going to tell everyone," he tells it solemnly, "I don't know what's going to happen after that. I don't know what's going to happen to us."

The Walrider growls low, showing it understood, offering encouragement to it's host.

Miles makes a sardonic smiles at that.

"Yeah, I hope we'll be alright too," he says, reaching an arm up to curl around the demon's neck, giving it a small peck on the cheek.

There's only trace remnants of tobacco left in the filter of his cigarette, but he takes a long, lame drag on it anyway. Most of it had been wasted, burned off in tiny clumps of ash because he had been too busy being lost inside his own head, but he still liked the feeling of it in-between his fingers, the comfort the familiarity brought.

He snuffs out his cigarette on the window sill, dragging black streaks across cracked paint before flicking the butt down onto the sidewalk below.

He shuts the creaky window, latches it closed.

“Hey, when we’re outside in public, please try to be discrete. The last thing we needs is someone calling in a cryptid sighting,” Miles remarks, turning around, beholding the ominous form of the Walrider.

Obliging, the Walrider dissolves into a mist, thinning out until it becomes nothing at all.

Miles takes one last tour around his apartment, trying to take a mental picture of the memories he'd made over the past few years. He's leaving so much behind, but he can start over again if it means giving the world a better future by bringing Murkoff down.

Locking the door behind him, Miles descends the blocky stairs with two heavy bags on each shoulder. He takes one final look up at the building that he called home, focusing on his third story window before he rips his gaze away and faces forward again.

It's then that he recognizes the suspicious silver Audi parked in his spot, right out front on the sidewalk.

Holy Shit. Was he an idiot? How did he not notice it here before?

This was Trager’s car. It had to be.

Miles tries the door handle. It's unlocked. He tosses his bags into the back seat and then slides into the driver's side, looking for the car keys. Nothing in the ignition, but he keeps searching, a distinctive metallic clack resounding in the interior when he opens the fold-out mirror and they fall to the mat by the break pedal.

Fucking. Score.

Just for the hell of it, Miles takes the keys and bounds around to the back of the car. He opens up the trunk and just like he knew there would be, an expensive set of golf clubs and caddy are laying there to greet him, neat leather toppers, no doubt painstakingly chosen for each one of the ritzy driver clubs. Miles is going to use those later, but whether it's to pawn them, use them in an act of vandalism or put them to recreational use, he has yet to decide.

He slams the trunk closed and he can't believe his eyes when he sees the word, "BUDDY," inscribed on the rear goddamn license plate. He offers a chuff of disgust, rolling his eyes on his return trip to the drivers seat.

He turns the key, revs the engine and just takes a moment to breathe it all in, hands gripping the steering wheel to reiterate the fact that he had jacked Trager's motherfucking car and had brought it home with him, thinking that it must've been during one of his many mental blackouts. He doesn't know if those catatonic episodes are going to be an ongoing, reoccurring thing, but he hopes the answer is less and not more. Either way, Miles is not the type to kick a gift horse in the mouth.

Forget any thoughts he had about bittersweet departures. They're all replaced by giddy spouts of laughter because this feels like revenge, like he's pissing on Trager's grave and it's motivation enough to lay on the gas and do a burn-out, speeding straight towards the nearest news station.

{End Chapter 3}

[a3s1rxx]

Safe Travels

Part 2 of ?????

Tw: Graphic depiction of violence, brief brief depiction of pedophilia (like one sentence)

The sun rose on the Winchester house. Kafziel was out cold on the sofa, curled up under the blankets. Sam was the first awake, and walked downstairs to make some breakfast. On his way to the kitchen, he saw Kafziel, still peacefully asleep on the couch. He couldn’t help but smile. He walked over to the sleeping archangel and gently shook her awake. Kafziel grumbled and turned away.

“Cmon, rise and shine.” Sam shook her again. Kafziel groaned and yawned, stretching and sitting up. She blinked a bit and rubbed her eyes. “I’m making breakfast. You want some?”

“Yeah…. Sure.” Kafziel answered, looking at Sam, a delirious smile on her face.

“Alright.” Sam stood back up and walked into the kitchen. Dean soon came down into the living room, fully dressed and ready to go. He sat on the end of the sofa and turned on the TV.

“You have a very lovely couch.” Kafziel stated, sitting with her legs pulled to her chest. Her eyes were glued to the TV.

“I would hope so. We spent a lot of money on it.” Dean chuckled, glancing over at Kafziel.

“I have a question.”

“Shoot”

“Your brother, is he-“

“Single? Yes.”

“No. Is he psychic.”

There was a pause between both of them. Kafziel turned her head to look at Dean, who was already staring at her with a hard gaze.

“How did you know?” Dean asked, his voice low.

“I’m an angel. If I couldn’t feel it, that would be a problem.”

Just then, Sam peeked his head in.

“Breakfast is ready.” He gave an awkward little smile. Dean almost immediately got up and jogged to the kitchen. Kafziel followed at a slower pace.

Breakfast was lavish. Eggs, bacon, toast, hash browns, pancakes, fruit. The whole nine miles. The three sat at a table to eat. A glass round table. For drinks? Fresh orange juice and water.

“So,” Kafziel spoke up while chewing.

“Swallow first.” Sam cut her off, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Kafziel rolled her eyes and swallowed.

“We should head to Cas’ shop first. I need to pick some stuff up. Maybe we’ll find a clue in there too.” Kafziel said, leaning back in her chair.

“We’ll do that then.” Sam responded, still working on his food. Dean looked over at Kafziel’s plate, which was half eaten.

“Are you gonna finish that?” Dean asked, eyeing the food like a starving dog.

“You can have it.” Kafziel pushed her plate towards Dean and took a sip of her water.

Breakfast lasted about an hour. Everyone was just waiting for Dean to finish really. Once Sam and Dean had packed up for the trip, the three set off to the mechanic shop. Kafziel hopped out the car and walked into the shop, disappearing in the back. After a few minutes, the brothers followed suit.

Dean was looking around the store, searching for any trace of an intruder. Sam was looking around near the back for the same thing. He didn’t find anything significant, but he did find Kafziel in a little makeshift room. She had a small backpack with clothes. She was standing there, looking at an old Polaroid of her and Castiel. Her back was turned to Sam, who was standing in the doorway. He knocked on the doorframe.

“Yeah?” Kafziel looked up from the Polaroid, turning her head to see Sam. Her eyes were glossed over with tears.

“Everything alright?” Sam walked over, noticing the Polaroid in her hand.

“Yeah I ,um,” Kafziel bit down on her lip, trying to speak without sobbing. “I’m just worried, ya know.” She exhaled shakily, voice high and wavering. “There’s a chance we might never see him again and, um, well I just feel like if I was here it wouldn’t have happened.” Kafziel sniffled and brought her fist to her face, biting down on her thumb. Sam placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’re gonna find him. I promise.” He spoke, voice low and gentle. Their eyes locked.

“Yeah… yeah.” Kafziel nodded and wiped her eyes. Sam pulled her into a hug. She hugged back. There was something just so reassuring about the whole thing.

Just then, Dean appeared in the doorway. He cleared his throat, causing both the archangel and the hunter to back away and look at him.

“Oh, am I interrupting something.” Dean chuckled, quirking his eyebrows.

“You are so gross.” Kafziel picked her backpack up and rolled her eyes. She walked out the room, shoulder checking Dean on the way out. Sam tilted his head at Dean.

“Come on man.” He sighed and walked out the room.

“There were sparks, I’m telling ya.” Dean followed his brother, elbowing him playfully.

“Yeah, okay.” Sam snickered. He couldn’t help but smile just a little.

The three regrouped by the Fiat.

“Alright. What have we got?” Dean asked.

“The place reeks of demon.” Kafziel said, putting her bag in the truck.

“That gives us a start.” Sam said, leaning on the passenger seat door.

“If you can find other cases that sounds like a demon was involved, we can go and interrogate it.” Kafziel said, getting in the car. The brother’s followed suit. Dean started the car and started driving.

“We can’t just go and sit down with a demon.” Dean scoffed, glancing at Kafziel in the rear view mirror.

“You can in some circumstances.” Kafziel shrugged.

The car ride was aimless, until there was a murder they were alerted to. It was up in Michigan. There had been a serious of murders like this across the country, in bursts. All victims were 16 and female. All had their hearts torn out, and all the blood drained from their body.

Driving up the countryside was a fun venture for the three. Kafziel would hang out the window, enjoying the breeze as they drove. She would even climb out onto the roof of the car at times. Sam would watch her in the right side mirror. He would smile to himself. Something about seeing her happy made him happy too. Dean took note of this. Seeing his brother happy made him happy also. ‘Crazy kids’ he’d think to himself. Every so often he’d elbow Sam and say something, just to let Sam know he knew what he was looking at. Sam would just brush him off. After all, what are brothers for?

Eventually the Fiat pulled into Michigan. They rolled into a neighbourhood, pulling up alongside the house where the crime had took place.

Sam suddenly got a vision. Something about the family. The main thing in the vision, a high school. Then a party. Another girl was going to be killed. Prom night. Sam held his head and laid it back, grunting and groaning in pain. There was a voice, a male voice. It sounded like someone on administration. Then, the vision was over. Sam panted slightly, composing himself.

“Sammy, you alright?” Dean asked, looking over at his brother.

“What did you see?” Kafziel asked, sticking her head between the two front seats from the back.

“A school, the girl, um…. I think I heard a guy.” Sam said, sitting up. Kafziel put a hand to his cheek. The aching in his head went away. “What did you do?” Sam asked.

“Just alleviated your pain.” Kafziel said, retracting her hand.

“Thank you.” Sam smiled.

The three got out the car and went to interrogate the house. From the information they gathered, the high school Sam probably saw was Lakewood. Prom night was tonight. The man Sam heard? He was probably Mr.Sarcov, the Math teacher at the school.

From the information gathered, a plan was formed. Sam and Kafziel would break into prom night, disguised as students. Meanwhile, Dean would find his way into the back and all three would regroup somewhere. This would all start at 5:00 PM.

“Would you hurry up.” Dean grumbled, knocking on the bathroom door of the suite. For this hunting mission, they had found a 5 star nearby, and decided to stay there.

“Would you wait just five more minutes.” Kafziel yelled from inside the bathroom. Dean groaned loudly. He was dressed in a janitor’s outfit, while Sam was in a simple tux. In just a few minutes, Kafziel walked out the bathroom. Her longer black hair was now cut into a style that resembled the length of a bob. Her dress was white with holographic glitter. Form fitting with a slit up the right side.

“You look….nice.” Sam said, swallowing a little hard. Dean couldn’t help but smirk slightly at Sam’s reaction.

“Alright, yeah, let’s get this over with.” Kafziel exhaled.

The three walked to the car and drove to the high school. Dean pulled into the parking lot.

“So everyone knows the plan?” Sam asked, making sure everyone was in the same place on what was going on.

“Yup” Dean smiled brightly with a thumbs up.

“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with. This is embarrassing.” Kafziel got out the car, stumbling a little in her heels. Dean and Sam got out the car, and they all walked to the entrance.

“Have fun you two. Don’t forget to leave room for Jesus when you dance.” Dean winked, letting out a hearty laugh. Kafziel started at him with an unamused face, almost matching the one Sam had on.

Then the group split. Dean snuck into the back as a janitor, while Kafziel and Sam awkwardly checked in at front of Sam had walked in with her, their arms hooked together. After about 5 minutes they separated. Kafziel had snuck out the gym and went exploring down the hall.

The hallway reeked of demon to her. A different demon than the one from the shop, but a similar one. Possibly a brother. There were giggles and whispered talking coming from a classroom. As Kafziel walked towards the noise, the smell worsened. She walked up to the door, and unlocked it by touching it. As she walked in, she was faced with a grotesque scene.

“Oh my GOD.” Kafziel yelled, bile rising in her throat. She managed to swallow it back down. Sarcov and the student pulled away from each other.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Sarcov said frantically. Kafziel stared in bewilderment. She looked at the student and mouthed ‘get out’. Her voice echoed to the student like an overwhelming command, almost like the pied piper and his tune. The student suddenly ran out the room, fear in her eyes. Kafziel closed and locked the door with a quick hand movement. “You’re not human.” Sarcov spoke.

“Neither are you, you abomination.” Kafziel sneered, her eyes holding nothing but disgust in them now.

“You’re looking for that mechanic, aren’t you.” Sarcov cooed. “My brother took him.”

“And who’s your brother?” Kafziel walked over, snagging Sarcov by the collar of his shirt.

“Calm down angel.” Sarcov smiled. “I can’t just tell you everything.” He attempted to push her off, but Kafziel didn’t budge. Something was telling Sarcov to leave his vessel. This wasn’t an ordinary nonhuman he was dealing with, it was something he couldn’t beat. Sarcov started to leave his vessel, turning to smoke and exiting through the human’s mouth, but halfway way out he got stuck. Kafziel had caught him in a telekinetic grasp. She was forcing him back into the vessel with ease. When Sarcov was back in the vessel, he could feel his head start to ache. It was slowly getting worse. Almost like his head would explode from pressure.

Kafziel hadn’t broken eye contact with this demon. She held him with one hand, and with another, she was slowly closing it into a fist. She was crushing him telekinetically. Slowly. Agonizingly slow.

“If you do this, you’ll only be killing the vessel, not me.” Sarcov grunted out, the pain becoming unbearable. His bones slowly crushing.

“Oh no. This is different.” Kafziel spoke, her voice holding no emotion. It was like something flipped. Sarcov could feel the essence of himself diminishing with every snap and break of a bone. Slowly he got more and more compressed, until he burst. Bits and blood flying everywhere, splattering the walls, the floor, Kafziel. She just stood there, breathing heavily.

After a few minutes, she started to clean the mess. She used her magic to scrape the walls and floor clean. In the middle of her job, a familiar voice came from behind her.

“Kafziel.” It was Gabriel.

“Been a while.” Kafziel said, turning around to look at Gabriel. “What do you want.”

“Straight to the chase, okay.” Gabriel shook his head in amusement. “Have you picked a side in the fight?” He asked.

“No.” Kafziel turned away and continued to clean.

“That’s what I thought. So I was wondering if-“ Gabriel was cut off by Kafziel cackling wildly.

“I’m not helping to piece our family back together. Goodbye.” Kafziel snorted and finished her work.

“You know what you did sends a message, right.”

“No one will know it was me.” Kafziel said and sat up on a desk. “Now leave.”

Gabriel left through a window, looking back once. Kafziel just waved him off. Right after, Sam and Dean ran into the room.

“Where’s the demon?” Sam asked, out of breath.

“I handled it.” Kafziel responded calmly, a small smile on her face.

“But I had a vision-“

“I handled it. End of story.” Kafziel cut him off quickly.

Back at the hotel, Sam and Dean had fallen asleep. Kafziel was awake on the pullout bed. Everyone had been tense since the demon incident. Kafziel felt a presence at the suite. She walked out onto the balcony and flew up to the roof, where she saw her brother. Michael.

“How’d you find me?” Kafziel asked, gulping slightly.

“Killing a demon isn’t exactly discrete. He was one of Lucifer’s favorites.” Michael shrugged.

“So what do you want.”

“You clearly picked a side in this fight.”

“I’m not on anyone’s side, I just want to find my friend.”

“The abandoned asylum in Missouri. You know the one. He’s there.” Michael said, a snarky smile on his face.

“You put him there.”

“To motivate you to pick a side. Don’t worry, he’s alive. Unharmed.”

Kafziel breathed a sigh of relief. 


“Now,” Michael said, shifting his weight onto his other leg. “I could really use you on my side.”

“I don’t want any part in your petty fight.”

Michael groaned, furrowing his brows.

“I’ll return home then. Safe travels, sister.”

“Tell heaven I send my regards.” Kafziel said, a slight tone of resentment laced in her words. She then hopped off the room and returned to her bed in the suite. Tonight she would go without rest.

[randomshyperson]

Rulers of The Multiverse - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Chapter Seven

Summary: Strange’s faulty spell will cause a series of unexpected events, from your reunion with the love of your life in another world to the appearance of a child capable of traveling across the multiverse. This story follows the journey of a very tired Guardian alongside mischievous America Chavez and Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: (+18) explicit language and sexual content, violence, a lot of magic, found family, mentions of abusive past and trauma, mind control, use of illicit substances, mostly top!reader, soulmates analogies. || Words: 7.789k

A/N-> If you guys have any questions regarding the story, feel free to ask ahead. Also, every review is appreciated, your words means a lot!

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter Seven - The Socialists and the Jealous Witch

As you looked out the small car window, it was easy to tell that this was one of the most beautiful worlds you had ever been in.

A few many minutes ago, on the side of the road where you, America, and Wanda appeared, you managed to get a ride.

Wanda had just put her arms around you and was trembling like the leaves on the many surrounding trees. You held her close, tightly and without hesitation. But you worriedly took your attention from her when you heard the sound of music approaching.

Without delay, rounding the corner of the road where you were standing, came a silver 1950s style Volkswagen van, but patched up in so many places that it was a surprise that it was working. It stopped right beside you, and America ran to get closer to you and Wanda let go in confusion, but you slid your hand to hers giving a gentle squeeze so she wouldn't use magic if she didn't have to.

A raccoon opened the door.

"Hey, outsiders, want a ride?" He asked casually. You hadn't seen Rocket in many years, and this version of him - wearing jeans and a floral shirt - sure was a funny thing, to say the least.

"Cool." America murmured impressed from your side with a chuckle. Wanda sniffled softly, still seeming to be unaware of what had just happened. You noticed that the Kombi wasn't empty - Lots of familiar faces inside, from Gamora and Baby Groot to Starlord, and one moody face you really didn't expect, the Winter Soldier - the last one, driving. 

"James?" You let out without being able to control yourself, and he put his metal arm on the seat to turn to look at you, his long hair pinned back. 

"Sorry, doll, have we met?"

You give a half-hearted laugh, ready to deny it when Wanda intervenes:

"No, you haven't." She replies coldly. "Where are we?"

Rocket whistles softly. "Jeepers Creepers, Barnes, I think they're tourists! We can take them to the Consulate if they need records."

"This car won't make it to the capital." Murmured Peter Quill from the front passenger seat, with a cigarette in his mouth.

You wanted to laugh at the scene. It looked like a 70s version of Guardians of the Galaxy. It was amusing, to say the least.

"We're fine!" You said quickly. "We have the records and all that sort of thing." You lied quickly, and everyone seemed too stoned or too cool to care. "We're just wanting food and somewhere to rest."

"Bomb!" Exclaimed Rocket opening the door wider. "Come on up, strangers. We'll take you to the Forge."

"Forge?" Wanda asked suspiciously, though she couldn't resist the gentle nudge you gave her back.

"Yeah, the commercial district. It's a few miles from here." Answered the raccoon, and just as the three of you were sitting on the soft puffs placed in the back of the kombi, with the guardians looking on curiously, he added, "You guys need to clean up all this blood. You're one of the space hunters, yes?"

"Sure, something like that." You mutter watching Wanda shift uncomfortably in her seat.

That's how you ended up in a kombi, with America playing some kind of weird deck with a Hippie version of Gamora, and Wanda with her arms crossed, pretending not to be asleep on your shoulder.

The landscape was really quite beautiful - miles and miles of a colorful plantation, with some cement craters as if the flora had taken over the cities many years ago, plus a big lake and some shiny creatures flying in the sky.

"Hey, since we've already made it clear that we're not from around here, do you mind telling us how this place got this way? It's just that the Earth we remember is a little different." You asked half-heartedly to Rocket, who had started making a joint a few minutes ago.

He let out a snout laugh. "You guys must have come here before Rebirth." He commented casually, but you saw James steal a glance through the rearview mirror at you. 

"What is the Rebirth?"  You asked. 

"It's when Ultron blew up half the planet." James replies from the front seat, making you tense up immediately. But no one in the car seems to care much. 

"Rebirth started on the Armageddon." Rocket continued and handed the finished joint to you. It seemed rude to refuse when he was telling you about the destruction of the world. "It was a sad thing for those who were here, but the planet was very thankful. Just look around, the earth has never looked more beautiful."

You coughed a little because of the marijuana and passed the joint to Gamora, who giggled at your reaction before taking a long drag. 

"So Ultron won the war on this world." You say, and they seem to understand that you were only from space and not from that universe. 

"I guess you can put it that way." Bucky replied from the steering wheel. "All the Heroes, the ones that were left at least, threw him out after Rebirth. And then we retired because there really wasn't anyone else to fight."

"Besides, the idiot went to dominate the rest of the galaxy, and whoever survived comes to occupy the planets that have already been reborn." Peter Quill comments, moving to put a song on the radio. "Now we just hang around, have free food and all kinds of work, it's an easier life."

You scratched at the back of your neck, not knowing what to say, but you didn't really need to, because Quill put on an upbeat song and they started humming along.

Wanda moved next to you, opening her eyes with a frown from the noise.

"Hey, are you okay?" You murmured, straightening to slip your arm across her shoulders, and Wanda snuggled better against you immediately.

"I had a bad dream." She whispered back half-drowsily, and then faced the Guardians singing and sighed, "Never mind, reality is worse."

You laughed softly, stroking her arm. "I think we're getting there already. A bath will help us feel a little better."

She hummed, meeting your gaze, and then narrowed her eyes at you. "Y/N, are you high right now?"

"It would be completely irresponsible and idiotic to be stoned in a strange universe." You whisper back with an easy smile, and Wanda grunts in irritation, pulling away to slap you on the thigh which makes you let out a soft exclamation of fake pain.

"You are unbelievable." She complains, but says no more because Gamora is commenting:

"They sound like you and Natalia, Grumpy Soldier!" 

Bucky laughed from the front seat, his metal arm on the steering wheel while the other was leaning against the open window. You smiled, assuming impressed that in another universe Nat and Bucky worked out.

"Wrong, Gamora." He grumbled. "Romanoff would have thrown me out of the Kombi if I accepted a joint from strangers."

"I haven't discarded that idea yet." Wanda mumbles from your side making you laugh softly.

"This Romanoff, is she your wife?" You asked casually as if you had no idea who they were at all. Bucky let out another laugh.

"Ex-wife." He retorted, his gaze meeting yours in the rearview mirror a few times as he recounted, "We have a complicated history, but it was an amicable ending. And we try to be friends because of little Stevie."

You blinked in surprise, "You have a kid?" You asked trying not to sound too impressed or pleased, and Bucky shrugged, smiling.

"Yeah, he's six and he's a little devil." He countered. "I'm going to visit them at the Forge. Go down with you guys, and these bums here are going north."

The guardians let out a little exclamation matched by their nickname that makes James laugh, and so do you. But your attention is diverted to Wanda, who is tense beside you, and when you look in the same direction she is looking, you notice that it is at her own bloodied reflection in the mirrors hanging in the corner of the kombi.

"Go back to sleep, I'll wake you up when we arrive." You suggest sweetly as you bring your hand to her cheek, and Wanda shudders but obeys and as she looks away, she buries her face in your neck again, inhaling deeply.

You only smile when America exchanges a look with you with winning the match against Gamora.

–//–

As soon as the Kombi parks and Bucky reaches down to open the door and grab a bag from the trunk, you understand why it is called the forge.

It is a large commercial district, with buildings of metal and wood, built and kept standing against the law of physics, and in the center is a large concrete pavilion with market stalls of all kinds. What is most eye-catching, and does justice to the name, is the large statue of a robotic head in the center. And despite the fungus growing, there is no way not to recognize Ultron. His face only occupies half of it, however, the other half, though metallic, is clearly not him. The only thing you recognize is the rock design of the Mind Stone that links both faces together.

"Vision." Wanda chokes in surprise as you get down from the vehicle and catch a glimpse of the statue. You frown slightly and finish helping America down from the vehicle and wave goodbye to the Guardians before approaching your wife.

"That is Vision?" You ask curiously, and Wanda swallows dryly, twiddling her fingers as she nods. "Sorry, love, I can't say he's handsome."

You manage to get a weak laugh and a gentle slap on the arm from her but Wanda tenses up again.

"I think we're in a world where Ultron has managed to become Vision." She says as she shifts her gaze from the statue to you, and you sigh softly, raising one of your hands to push the hair out of the front of her face.

"I'm sorry you have to see it." 

Wanda smiles, leaning into the touch. "Don't worry, it's not the hardest or weirdest thing I've had to watch." She teases softly making you smile.

The moment is broken when Bucky whistles to get your attention, gesturing for you all to follow him.

You give the scary statue one last uncertain look before accompanying him.

Bucky guides you along the busy stalls and you notice that no one seems to care about the blood on yours or Wanda's clothes, especially since many people carrying everything from animals to heavy weapons are the same way. You move deeper into the district until you end up in front of what looks like a motel with a very busy bar in front, several people and creatures coming out all around with bags, drinks, and weapons.

"Barnes!" Someone yells from the entrance once Bucky is close enough and you recognize Captain Carol Danvers - except that she doesn't look much like the one you know. This one has shoulder-length hair and wears a plaid outfit with dark jeans. 

"Danvers, good to see you." Greets Bucky back hugging the blonde for a moment before waving to the rest of the bar. Carol, who was holding a mug full of beer, turned the liquid over in one large impressive gulp before asking about you and the girls.

"Oh, they're a bunch of tourists, hunters or something, that we gave a ride on the Avengers road." Bucky comments casually reaching for his watch. "Do you think you can get a room for them? I need to pick up Stevie and Natalia at the station."

"Sure, Bucky, we have room." Carol commented and Bucky smiled in appreciation.

"If you guys stick around, I'll see you at sunset." Barnes said as he said his goodbyes, fixing his bag as he continued on his way into town.

You cleared your throat as you looked at Carol. "I'm sorry, but how much is it to stay? We kind of don't have any money, but we sure work as payment and-"

Carol laughed, gesturing. "You must be from one of those monetary planets, right? Don't worry, we don't charge anything for basic services." She interrupted casually, surprising you. "That is, from food and shelter to basic weaponry to survive in the deserts. If you need any of those, we received some revolvers last night."

"Can I take look...?" America started but you and Wanda gave her a look that caused her to fall silent. You offered Carol a smile.

"Thank you, but we will only need some food and a room. And a bath please." You said clumsily.

Carol raised an eyebrow and you immediately regretted your words.

"Well, I could bathe you myself, pretty thing..."

Wanda nudges you so hard you almost fall off the sidewalk, but she just takes Carol's field of vision.

"She can do it herself, thank you. Show us the way." She cuts you off seriously, and you are massaging your rib with a grimace, and Carol immediately takes the cue not to flirt with you and gives a short laugh, turning to guide you through the halls.

It looks very much like a hostel, and you are surprised that it has vacancies because the place is very crowded and busy, and noisy.

Carol drops you off on the third floor and tells you that even though it is busy, no one will try to rob you. Thieves only in the deserts or something like that.

Despite the interaction at the entrance, she insists on offering you a wink before going downstairs, and Wanda rolls her eyes, marching angrily to the bathroom without speaking to you.

"She's kind of the jealous type, huh?" America comments, and you giggle.

"It's ironic because, in my universe, Carol Danvers used to be Wanda's best friend." You say.

"That's kind of sad." America comments, and you sigh, shrugging.

"I guess so." You say. "But I suppose it was kind of refreshing to talk to a Carol who doesn't hate me for letting her friend die."

America frowns slightly, but you don't let her press the issue, leading the way into the room that Danvers said would be yours. It's wide open, with double doors and windows to the market, and has two double beds, plus a couch.

"I'm going to get cleaned up with Wanda, why don't you try to get some sleep before your next trip?" You suggest, and she looks tired enough not to push too hard.

You close the bedroom door before making your way to the bathrooms.

Fortunately, it is much emptier than the rest of the place. 

You find Wanda at one of the last sinks, and give way to a girl with an eye patch and a towel on her shoulders to pass before making your way to Wanda.

"Hey." You greet half hesitantly as you see the way she seems lost in her own thoughts. Wanda blinks away from her own reflection - now less bloodied because she had already run some water over her face - and offers you a small smile.

"Hi." She murmurs back. She looks ready to wash up again when you stand beside her, and touch her hip with your hand.

"Sit there, I'll help you get cleaned up." You tell her gently, and Wanda swallows dry as she can feel the warmth of your body.

"N-no need to..."

"Please, Wanda." You insist by giving her hips a gentle squeeze and meeting her gaze in reflection. "I want to clean your bruises too."

She sighs but nods, and you step aside to make room for her to sit in one of the chairs in circular cups scattered around the busy wooden bathroom. 

You hiss softly as you pull up a stool to sit across from her and search for a medical kit in the cabinets in the cupboards beside you - smiling softly when you find it - before pulling her ankle gently up onto your thigh.

"I was going to use magic to heal that." Wanda mumbles softly, but you just offer her a small smile.

"Yeah, I figured so." You say, starting to prepare items to remove the stuck shards and clean up the blood. "But a break from magic is exactly what you need, my love." You say meeting her gaze again, and she swallows dryly but doesn't contradict. "Don't worry, I won't let it hurt."

As you work on the bruises, you comment on asking Carol for some shoes, and something decent to eat. Wanda stays silent until you start on the right foot, and waits for two girls to pass you toward the exit before asking:

"When do we leave again?"

You don't take your eyes off the tweezers and shard you just found to answer, "As soon as America has a decent meal."

"Why aren't you using magic?"

You give a short laugh, "I can do a bandage without magic tricks, thank you very much." You joke, but Wanda doesn't laugh, instead, she gives an impatient sigh that makes you look at her curiously. "What's wrong, my love?"

She grunts angrily, looking at you with red eyes. "You're lying to me!" She accuses between her teeth, but turns her face away and tries to calm herself. You sigh half wearily, and hover your hand in the air in front of Wanda's sole, causing all the remaining shards to dissipate into thin air. A small pressure arises on the back of your neck, but you ignore it.

"Is that what you think?"

Wanda locks her jaw but looks at you with greenish eyes again. "That's what he tells me. And honestly, Y/N, it's very hard not to believe it when I really don't know anything about you."

A sigh escapes your lips, but you nod, gently pushing Wanda's foot to the floor before getting up and throwing the used items in the trash and going to the sink.

Wanda thinks she has made you angry. Chthon keeps whispering that you'll lie again, or worse, that you'll run off into the night with America and abandon her.

But all you do is throw some water on your face, and take off your bloody shirt with one motion before turning to Wanda.

"I'm going to take a shower, and when I'm done, we can talk." You tell her with a seriousness and certainty that doesn't help the way Wanda is blushing at the sight of you in just a sports top. "If you need to, you also have my permission to look at my memories."

This is going to be fun, Chthon wryly mocks in her mind, but Wanda pushes his voice away to nod at you.

–//–

Wanda looks at her new pair of beat-up boots swinging in the air as she moves her legs, sitting on the ledge of the hostel where you all were staying. It was the only place in the whole building where she couldn't find anyone, and it was probably because the terrace led directly into Carol's room, who she had understood owned the place.

The blonde had gotten not only boots, but also clean sets of clothes for you all, and said that when America woke up, just join the bar and help yourself.

Wanda was supposed to come down to eat after she got dressed, but she went out on the porch and stayed.

"I thought we were going to talk." Sudden - half breathless - sounded your voice as you emerged onto the balcony, not from Carol's room, but from the stairway entrance. "I've been looking all over the place for you, little witch."

"Well, you found me." Wanda murmurs by hugging one of her legs and leaning on the wall of the building, her gaze still on the city below.

You approached her leisurely and put up both hands for support before jumping onto the concrete as well, sitting down beside her. Your gaze lingered on her face.

"How bad is it?" You asked and Wanda sighed softly, shrinking further against the wall. 

"What?" she asked trying to avoid the subject, but you didn't hesitate.

"The voices and the nightmares. How bad are they now?"

She forces a short laugh, running a hand over her face for a moment.

"What do you think?" She retorts aggressively, and you sigh, looking at the city. Before Wanda can apologize, you are speaking again:

"I think I may have made them worse with the mirroring rune." You confess guilty. "Chthon is petty and cruel, and I wouldn't be surprised if he made things worse by my defiance. And I would hate myself if I were responsible for making you suffer more."

Wanda blinks in surprise, looking down at your crestfallen figure. Now she understood your dedication to trying to expel Chthon at any cost, even if it put yourself in danger.

She settled herself on the wall, one hand moving to meet yours in your lap.

"There aren't any worse." She says waiting for you to meet her gaze to give her a small smile. "If anything, they're actually weaker. I don't know what you've done, but I can even tell him to shut up now."

You chuckle softly, your eyes filling with tears. You lean your forehead on hers, and you both take a deep breath as you close your eyes.

"Tell me what you want to know." You whisper and she brings one of her hands to your face, stroking it a moment before putting a little distance between your faces again.

"I want to know everything you didn’t tell me." 

She asks and you nod in understanding, looking away again. You think for a few moments about the day you met her, and the short story you told, before speaking again.

"Well, my name is Y/N L/N, I'm from New York..." You begin with a casual tone, causing her to sigh slightly, moving closer to give you a nibble that makes you laugh.

"Please, Y/N. Take this seriously."

You sigh, meeting her gaze for a moment before diverting to the city.

"I'm sorry, Wanda, this is... hard." You confess. "I haven't told you everything not because I want to lie, but because you would be overwhelmed if I dumped my entire life on you over tea." 

"I know, but I feel like there are important things you're hiding from me."

"Like what?"

"Like your magic." She accuses and you grunt, looking away. "That's what I'm talking about."

"I told you how it works." You try, but she shakes her head impatiently.

"But you didn't tell me anything beyond that." She retorts. "Can you start by telling me why you've been avoiding using magic since we met again? Or why you're getting sick!"

"Why, didn't your book tell you everything?" You accuse and regret it immediately. Wanda sighs in impatience and turns to descend from the balcony, but you place a hand on her hip, holding her in place. "I'm sorry. Please, I didn't mean that..."

"Didn't you?" She challenges with bright eyes, her face so close you can count her freckles. "Part of you is mad at me for reading darkhold, so why don't you start being honest? Yell at me and tell me what you think!" She accuses pushing your hand away and walking away, and you swallow dryly before following her.

"I'm not mad at you." You assure her and she stops walking with an incredulous laugh. "I'm not." Wanda turns to you with her arms crossed, a disbelieving look on her face that makes you sigh. "You don't believe me."

She raises an eyebrow. "How can I trust you when I don't even know you?"

You nod and take a deep breath. "Fine." That's what you say before you begin to move around to place two chairs facing each other, and then pull Wanda by the hand to sit in one of them, before taking the other. You take a deep breath as you take Wanda's hands and raise them to the height of your shoulders. "Be gentle. You can start with whichever one you prefer."

Wanda swallows dryly, but nods in understanding and moves her fingers to your forehead, her eyes beginning to glow red.

As soon as she starts, the surroundings go dark.

Memories of early childhood were the easiest. They were a bit hazy, but Wanda made her way through the moments of breakfasts at a noisy table, games of running on a paved street, and nights of stargazing.

She found this memory hidden behind a few dozens and was surprised to find this little version of you - about 4 or 5 years old - lying on the floor of a bedroom, whispering into the opening under the bed.

"Hey sammy, can you get out of there?" You asked but received only a whimper in return. "I promise no one will look."

"Get out of here, Y/N, I look like a freak!" Your brother retorted back. Wanda bent down to look, and could only see golden eyes in the darkness.

"No! Don't say that!" You retorted in a childish voice, clearly confused and even frightened by the whole thing. "You're looking like a little angel, just as Mama used to say."

Your brother grunted angrily and was suddenly crawling out from under the bed, and you forced yourself upright just like Wanda. The witch let out a surprised sigh as she stared at the older boy's remarkable white wings in conjunction with his horns.

"He was a mutant." You, the older version, stood with your arms crossed and your back resting on the wardrobe while the memory happened and sped up. "But we grew up where that was a problem, and Samuel always hated not being able to hide what he was."

The memory wavered until your smaller version was holding scissors in hands, and your brother was strapped against a chair.

"Sammy, I don't want to do it." You said uncertainly and tearfully, but your brother grunted angrily.

"You have to help me, Y/N. School is starting soon, and freaks don't go to school, do they? They get sent away. And you don't want me to be gone do you?" You shake your head quickly, your eyes full of tears. Samuel sighs. "Then start cutting."

Wanda holds up your hand just as the first cry of pain happens, not needing to see to the end of the memory - and especially not wishing you to relive it - to know that you cut his wings off. 

"Did it work?" she asks though, and you sigh.

"Only for a while." You say. "Our parents saw the blood though, and well, I wasn't going to let them send Sammy away." You count. "The Train that carried the mutants was a government initiative to ‘wipe out the impure’, but we jumped off before that. I think we ended up somewhere in Poland before Master Kaecillus found us."

The memory forms as you say it. Wanda diverts her eyes from your adult version to the image of two children being approached by a man dressed in a black robe - who she recognizes from the last memory she saw of you - who hands the two generous pieces of bread.

"He saw potential in my brother's mutation, and offered us shelter and food, in exchange for his service to the masters of the mystic arts." You narrate as memories form, from the trip to the Kamar Taj in the company of Kaecillius to the images of your training, studying magic, and meeting the other masters. "Samuel never learned to accept his mutant side, and in time, he figured out how to look human."

Wanda swallowed dryly, watching your little version watch her brother mutter illusion incantations every morning in the mirror until the day he died. That memory she skipped over.

"When I hit him, the stick went through his spine, and his wings went slack." You count without looking at Wanda. "The Masters thought it best to cut them off to find a coffin where he would fit, so I insisted that I should do it myself."

Wanda intervened as the memory began, holding your hand tightly. "I don't need to see that one."

"Thank you." You mumble letting the surroundings flow again. They turn into an empty room, where a child all dressed in black was sitting on the floor of the room.

"Little L/N?" A male voice called out - it looked like a monk, with his long, white hair and beard and yellow robe - and he approached the edge of the bed, sitting down on the pillows. "Is it all right if we talk for a minute?"

"Yes, Master Agamotto." You answered politely from the floor, though a clearly tired voice.

"It's been three days since you left your chambers." He remarks. "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry, Master."

"And you need to train too." He tries, but you let out a whining laugh.

"I'll never train again." You retort, but Agamotto sighs softly.

"I figured you would say that." He says patiently. "I would also like to say that Master Kaecillius has been dismissed from the Kamar Taj."

You hug your knees, sinking your face into them, not very interested, but Agamotto kept talking.

"The masters have come to the conclusion of his negligence and abuse of authority during the mentorship of both Samuel and yourself." Says the man. "Therefore, he will no longer be part of this temple."

"And what difference does that make?" you retort with your voice muffled by your own skin. "My brother is already dead."

Agamotto sighs again, nodding. "I know, Y/N. I repeat again my sincere condolences."

You only sniffle softly, hiding yourself further against your knees, and Wanda finds your adult version's hand.

"Do you think you are ready to talk about what happened that day?" Agamotto asks.

Your smaller version sniffles slightly, but raises her head. "You know what happened. I killed him."

"It was an accident, Y/N." Agamotto recalls, but you let out an incredulous sigh.

"I threw the stick."

"And not even an adult would have enough strength to do that in that way, much less a little girl." Argues the man back, but you only lean your face back on your knees, your face stained with tears. "Y/N, you understand that it wasn't your fault, don't you?"

"I'm tired, master, can I be alone?" is what you mutter to him, and Agamotto sighs in defeat, but doesn't insist. 

As he gets up to leave the room, Wanda looks at your adult version.

"Hey, look at me." She asks and waits for you to wipe away one of the tears that has fallen to obey. "You know it wasn't your fault right?"

You give Wanda a small, tearful laugh, moving closer to kiss her forehead before pulling away.

"Keep watching, pretty girl." You murmur to her, and despite the slight frown, Wanda doesn't insist because another memory begins.

This time, the room that had formed was much better lit, and Wanda smiled faintly at the image of your younger version - who, although still somewhat pale and underweight, had clearly showered and put on clean clothes. You were sitting on a cushion, while Agamotto from the opposite seat, was preparing tea for the two of you.

"I was glad you accepted my request this afternoon." Master comments and you can't manage to give him a smile but raise your eyes to him.

"Master Yao insisted that I tried." You muttered low. "He used the age card." Your joke made Agamotto laugh, and you smiled short at the reaction. He poured the tea before speaking again.

"Master Yao makes fun of this, but I fear that soon I must leave this world." Declares the master making you look at him with a frown.

"Sir, don't say that!" You say. "You're not that old! You have what 100 or...?"

"A million years old." 

"A million-what the fuck?" You exclaim in surprise and quickly mumble apologies. 

Wanda giggles at the scene. 

"I have reincarnated many times in these centuries, child." Agamotto continues. "In this body, I have lived for 231 years, but something has happened recently and I see that soon, I will be ready to rest beside my Vishanti."

You swallow dryly, half confused by the story. "You know the day you will die, then? Sounds scary."

Agamotto smiles, shaking his head gently. "It's reassuring, in a way, to know that I will die protecting someone I love."

You blink in surprise, finishing your sip of tea before commenting, "I will miss you, Master Agamotto."

The man seems to be quite heartfelt about this because his eyes fill with tears, but he quickly excuses himself and wipes them away, pouring more tea for both of you.

"I didn't call you here to listen to the whining of an old man, little L/N." He comments with a smile. "I need to talk to you about your magic."

You sigh softly, playing with the handle of your cup. "Yeah, I figured you'd soon ask me about that." You comment. "I remember the rules, and now that Master Kaecillius is no longer my mentor, I also understand the pressure for an answer. But I don't think I'm ready to train yet."

Agamotto frowns slightly, gesturing in the air. "Y/N, Kaecillius should not be a concern for you anymore in any way. If the Kamar Taj doesn't suit you as a home, if you want a family like the one you had, we could enroll you in adoption services-"

"No!" you cut in with a grimace. "Please, not that. I don't desire new parents, I promise. The old ones have traumatized me enough." You comment and the man gives a guilty chuckle, nodding.

"That's all right, child. Well, know that what we have most here are mentors. You won't be destitute."

"As long as I train." You complete, and the man sighs, looking at you.

"I did not call you here to insist that you return to practicing the mystic arts as soon as possible." He says. "I called you here to talk about another kind of Sorcerer."

You frown softly in surprise, but the master just gestures in the air for a large book to float up from the back of the room and open on the table.

"How familiar with the ancient legends are you, Miss L/N?" The master asks. You sigh.

"Depends, am I going to be in trouble if I say I didn't pay attention in History of Magic class?" You joke getting a chuckle back.

"Don't worry, those legends are part of the Master's Collection. Nothing we teach, but rather something the students must seek out for themselves."

"Well, I'm in for some points then, because I know all the stories of the ancient gods." You brag in a joking tone, pointing to the figures taking shape on the previously blank pages of the books. "These are Oshtur, and Gaea...this is Sit, right?"

Agamotto looks slightly impressed as he goes on to confirm, but Wanda is more surprised about the way you quote the names and mention some of the legends with almost admiration.

"And what do you think of the gods, Y/N?" Agamotto asks as you turn the page, and you shrug.

"They're cool, I guess." You say and giggle. "They're super powerful and they never die, that's the best part I think. It would be super neat to meet one of them someday, but I have no way to go to another dimension so I'll dream about Disneyland in the meantime." You comment, getting another loud laugh from the master.

He flips through a few pages, and Wanda offers your adult version a curious look.

"I thought you hated the gods." She says, and you give her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I hated them this day." You reply, and she blinks in surprise but watches again.

Agamotto stops the book at a page where there is a long row of figures wearing capes of various colors. Above and behind, a larger faceless figure, its eyes completely golden.

"And these here, Y/N, have you heard of them?" He asked and with your negative nod, he continued. "These are the legendary Oshtur’s Order of Knights, who overthrew the Chaos God Chthon's domain over one hundred thousand years ago."

"Um, I heard about the Chaos’s fall." You mutter, leaning in to get a better look at the knights. "Chthon was banished to the realm of K'lay by the new god Amon Ra but all the books talk about his desire to return and dominate all the realms he can reach and how he constantly kept sending demons back to earth. But I've never heard of the Order."

Agamotto nods. "That is because it was destroyed." He says causing you to widen your eyes in surprise. "The knights gave their lives to end Chthon’s influence, but the god of Chaos created a new kind of creature for his revenge."

The master turned the page, and Wanda held her breath as she recognized the image. 

"The Scarlet Witch is a natural witch forged with ancient magic." Counters the master nodded to the drawing of the witch's figure, several runes around it, and you bit the inside of your cheek, eyes curious and hands resting on the table to see straight. " Her power is superior to that of the Supreme Sorcerer."

"But no one is stronger than you, Master Agamotto!" You exclaim making him smile affectionately.

"Oh, child, there are so many more powerful and stronger than me."

"A natural witch? That sounds like a lie. I bet the book is wrong." You mutter making him laugh.

"No, Y/N, the Book of the Vishanti never lies." He says stroking the cover for a moment. "The Forging of the Scarlet Witch happens when Chthon blesses her with chaos magic."

"Wow, that is so cool." You exclaim and quickly excuse yourself. "I mean, not cool at all, because they're bad guys."

The master laughs, shaking his head in disapproval. 

"The magic of an Old God, Y/N, is far greater than any power any sorcerer or wizard ever possesses." Continues the man. "Chthon forged a creature capable of shaping reality with her own thoughts, and the best part is that he controlled her completely."

You saw on the pages a few glimpses of the darkhold, but Agamotto switched to the next one, where two figures were on their backs and besides the runes, there was a description for each.

"The existence of a Scarlet Witch with no equivalent, that is, a being capable of matching her power, either to contain or stop it, caused an incalculable imbalance to the natural law." The master continued. "So the sorcerers of the time asked Oshtu for a miracle. And she blessed a noble warrior with enough power to restore order from chaos."

The page glowed a little as the figure on the right awoke, a white and gold cloak forming while his image detached itself from the other.

"This warrior was named Guardian of the Order, both in tribute to the fallen knights they were guarding, and the kind of magic the Guardian could do." The master recounted. "Order Magic is the exact opposite of Chaos Magic, although in practice they do the same thing."

Your younger version poked at the Guardian's figure, smiling when the drawing complained. "And this little guy managed to beat the Witch?"

Agamotto gave a small smile, watching you play with the Guardian figure running across the pages. 

"He did, then he took his own life afterward." He says causing you to widen your eyes in surprise.

"What? Why?"

Agamatto lets out a sigh. "He fell in love." 

You give a small laugh, shaking your head. "What an idiot." You mutter turning your attention back to the figure, which seemed to grow angrier with each poke you gave the drawing.

"Yeah, he was."

You hesitate, biting your lower lip before asking, "You knew him?"

Agamotto gave you a very sad smile, "He was my oldest son."

"Oh, master, I didn't know. I'm sorry." You say, but he gestures for you not to worry.

"Only a descendant of mine would be able to survive my mother's blessing." Agamotto continued, ignoring your shock at discovering that he too was the son of the goddess of order. "I was there during the forging, but I could not be present when he decided he could not live with what he had done for the sake of the universe."

You sigh softly, absorbing the story. "So even though he loved her, your son had to kill the Scarlet Witch because of the Chthon's dominance?"

"Exactly." Agamotto confirmed. "But that had been many centuries ago. The Scarlet Witches and the Guardians had ceased to exist for many, many millennia. And whenever Chthon tried to cast a new one, the Knights of the Order would emerge to interfere before that happened."

"I thought they were dead." You comment, but Agamatto smiles briefly.

"The originals are gone forever, but sometimes warriors so talented in the mystic arts emerge that it is a common belief that they were baptized by the Knights." Agamatto continues. "I myself have had the honor of knowing, over these millennia, thirteen warriors blessed by the Ancient Knights."

"That's little for a million years." You grumble making him laugh.

"Well, only Oshtur is omnipresent." He retorts in the same tone. "I have been fortunate enough to know so many, without the forging of a witch, they are not even necessary. But a few years ago, I myself saw one receive Oshtur's call."

"Really, master?"

"Yes, it was a very beautiful thing." Says the man. "Out in the Caribbean, and she was just a waitress. She was serving glasses, and suddenly, she almost burst all the bottles. Although she lost her job, she was invited to the Kamar Taj."

"Wow, does that mean we had a Scarlet Witch?" Your younger version asks excitedly.

"Her name was Natalya Maximoff and she died the same night you and your brother arrived at this temple." Tells the master impressing you a little. 

Wanda raises her hand, pausing the memory, and you sigh at her trembling fingers.

"Sweetheart, let's keep watching." You say, reaching your hand out and interlacing hers. "Don't listen to voices, except mine. I'm here beside you, and I'm not going anywhere." You assure her, and it takes a moment for Wanda to be able to watch again.

The memory shuddered before continuing. 

Your younger version had a thoughtful frown on her face.

"You're not thinking it was a coincidence, are you master?" You ask and Agamatto denies it with his head. 

"There are no such things as coincidences, Miss L/N." He says as he unhurriedly closes the book, and looks at you seriously. "When the last warrior failed to defeat the Scarlet Witch, I knew something was different. And when two mutant children knocked at my house the night that witch fell, I knew for sure."

"B-but I'm not a mutant..."

Agamatto reached out to hold your hand on the table. "No, you are more special than Homo Superior. You are a Knight of the Order."

Confusion, disbelief, and even fear flashed through your eyes. You pulled your hand back with a nervous laugh.

"Look, Master, with all due respect, but that's highly unlikely." You began clumsily. "You said yourself that knights are exceptional, and well, I'm pretty average, aren't I? I can't even complete Master Mordo's lessons, and I don't like the practice very much either... I even think the legends of the gods are cool, but I highly doubt that any of them, much less the powerful Oshtur would want anything to do with me and-"

"She already claimed you, Y/N." Agamatto announced seriously getting up. And ignored your confused look to continue, "It happened six weeks ago, in the accident with your brother."

You frowned, ready to ask what he was talking about, but the look on your master's face made you understand. You stood up abruptly, your eyes filled with tears.

"Are you telling me that... When I threw the stick-"

"Oshtur delivered your knightly blessing." Agamatto added. "It was, of course, an unfortunate moment. But the immeasurable honor of receiving-"

You cut Agamatto off with an incredulous laugh, your eyes filled with tears that you let fall. Your hand rises to your own chest as well, breathing out of rhythm.

"I... I killed him..." You muttered out of coherence, and Agamatto quickly went around the table to kneel beside you.

"The way of the gods is sometimes confusing, Y/N. But you need to understand that we are talking about the universe, something infinitely greater than just a casualty." Continues the man. "Other blessings have happened after yours, not only in this world but in dozens of others. The next Scarlet Witch will be powerful on the level of a Guardian, and the Chosen One will need their knights."

You raised your eyes to your master, anger glowing in your irises. "Oshtur made me kill my brother for a tale? And you have the nerve to tell me to be grateful for that?" You accuse pushing the master's hand on your shoulder away and standing up.

"Y/N, please..."

"You and the gods that go to hell." 

As the image of your child version drifted away, Wanda interrupted.

"That's enough for today." She declares, and you mutter in understanding. Unaware of Chthon's whispers in her head, mocking her as he says:

What a funny story, don't you think, Scarlet Witch? Being in love with the one destined to kill you. I wonder if you would like to end things like the first guardian did. If you like, I'll choose which wrist to cut.

When Wanda instinctively squeezes your hand, you offer her a confused smile:

"Everything okay?"

She forces a smile, but when she goes to lie, her tears give her away. You sigh - Carol's roof already shaped around you as you return to your bodies - and you pull her into your lap, hugging her tightly.

"Wands, I would never hurt you." You murmur against the skin of her neck. "I would kill the gods if I had to."

She swallows dryly, her tears staining your shirt. 

Chthon is laughing at the promise in the back of her mind, but Wanda pushes him away, burying her face in your neck and inhaling deeply until your scent is all in her senses.

--//--

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi! This is the anon with the ISWM egos and Y/N running into Y/Ns mean ex, and here to clarify! Yes the egos that made appearances!

(I hope this anon isn't taken but I'll shoot for the moon)

- SleepyBlu Anon

Oh okay! Just wanted that cleared up but ty!

Request: Hi I’m new to this, but could I request ISWM egos with their S/O and like running into S/O’s ex. S/O’s ex ain’t a nice person and S/O is uncomfortable, the boys to the rescue!

Engineer, Actor, Dark, Wilford, Yancy, Illinois, Jim, & Heehoo will be featured!

..............

Engineer Mark

Your ex so-happens to be USA receptionist.

They recognize you before you can state your inquiries and makes a subtle jab at both of you, especially upon learning you’re a captain.

“Wow, so you can keep a crew together but not a relationship?”

This pisses off Mark SO much. He can’t tolerate this disrespect to his captain and partner.

His anger becomes scary as he punches the table and demands they take your concerns more seriously.

After getting answers he leaves with you, still huffy but makes sure you’re alright.

“If they were in the crew, I’d eject them from the airlock myself..” He grumbles.

Actor

Oh boy.

If he so much as recognizes your ex he’s gonna flip out. Doesn’t matter if it’s in public or there’s only a few people around.

He’ll drag them away from you before they can utter a single word and have a “nice chat”.....which is really just him snapping at them and being like “you’re lucky I’m out on parole or else I’d KILL you right now!”

You don’t know what exactly he said but, they haven’t tried contacting you since then.

He spoils you afterwards to cheer you up <3

Dark

He doesn’t wanna cause a huge scene.

So he’ll just stare at your ex angrily while keeping you close to him, allowing the high-pitched ringing to fill their head.

He’s the best at intimidation so it doesn’t take long for them to be scared off.

After that he makes sure you’re okay, knowing very well what it’s like to be hurt by those he once trusted.

If they come back he definitely won’t hold back and resort to tormenting them in the void since they didn’t learn their lesson the first time.

Wilford

He takes shit from nobody.

Especially a stupid ex who questions your taste in men.

There’s a 75% chance you can stop him from shooting/stabbing them, but he’ll still find a way to screw with their mind.

Like getting inside their head and saying random bs or just teleporting around them to confuse them (like he does in WMLW).

Eventually they leave after calling him a freak, though he just rolls his eyes.

“Jeez, to think you dated that before me? Let’s get some drinks.”

Yancy

Will most definitely punch them if they say some rude shit about you.

“Lmao you’re so desperate for love you’ll take in a criminal-?”

*SMACK*

“At least I treat ‘em better than you any day!!!”

You literally cannot stop Yancy from leaving them with a bloody nose even if you tried and said “violence isn’t the answer”.

He may have given up the stabbing but there’s no way he’s ever gonna give up fighting for you tooth and nail <3

Illinois

Out of all the Ipliers he’s probably the most calm about it.

You honestly didn’t think he was so committed to your relationship until you saw the way he stood up to your ex.

Gentle yet firm so that they leave you alone.

Humorously enough, they barely have a defense bc wow--how did you manage to snag someone as fine as him???

So they finally do leave and it warms your heart, knowing he took this relationship seriously.

Jim

Honestly?

The whole Jim nation would be on your ex’s ass if they got within a five mile radius of you and don’t back off.

(Similar to Wilford) They think he’s a goddamn weirdo and you’ve lowered your standards to rock bottom.

Which leads to Jim interrogating them on what they knew about the statistics of relationships or...something like that.

Either way he gets them to leave with his eccentric ways being too much for them to handle.

Heehoo

After a lot of rehabilitation you both started dating again. Though he’s still drawn to the woods, so you’ll go on frequent walks together.

Unfortunately that’s where you meet your ex who’s on a hike.

“Wow you’ve chosen this hobo over me, huh?” They sneer.

Heehoo sees how upset they’re making you, so he just...growls and eventually scares them off after chasing them into the woods. 

Once he returns he makes sure you’re okay.

His actions made you laugh, confusing him, though you reassure him you appreciate what he did.

[smurphyse]

Tim Gutterson and the terrible, awful, no good day (but hey, it ends in sex!)

Smurph's Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 2 of Death From Above

Warnings: PTSD nightmares, Tim has anxiety and I try to show it in a Tim way, canon-typical violence

Summary: Tim has a bad day. So, after it gets increasingly worse, he goes to his local watering hole and meets a woman to take home for the night.

Tim Gutterson usually had bad nights. Nights when he woke up yelling or sweating or leaping off the bed to get away from monsters made of memory. Some nights all three happened, and he’d wake up and drink a fifth of bourbon just to make it to sunrise in one piece. 

For once, Tim hadn’t had a bad night, so he’d gone for a longer run than usual, relishing the cool morning air of Kentucky in October. He pushed himself, slowly kicking up his pace and going through the breathing techniques he’d learned in the Army. 

After ten miles (he usually only did six), he’d come home, slowly making his way up the front steps of his house. He’d been gone less than an hour, but someone had found time to drop a box on his porch. 

Tim sighed as he bent down to pick it up. It was a box of his stuff from Abby’s house. He already knew what he’d find inside. It was what was always in breakup boxes- a few sets of shirts and boxers from when he slept over, a toothbrush and travel mouthwash, and a few of his books. Taped to the top was a cream colored envelope with his name scrawled across it in Abby’s flourish-y script. 

He set the box on his hip as he unlocked the front door, stepping through and tossing it onto the couch. He wasn’t going to bother reading the note right now. Instead, he made his way to the kitchen, tipping a bit of bourbon into a coffee mug before pouring himself some dark roast. Turning on his heel, he walked to the bathroom, flipping on the shower and setting the mug on the side of the vanity, kicking off his shoes and peeling off his sweaty clothes. 

He pulled the mug into the shower with him, nursing it gingerly in both hands and letting the water release some of the newly pent-up tension in his back. It was still steaming hot when he took his first sips, and he tried to focus his thoughts to the notes of vanilla from the bourbon. It never tasted as good with coffee as it did by itself, but the early morning reminder that he’d fucked up another personal relationship wasn’t something he had expected to find when he came home, nor was he prepared to think about it. 

He’d liked Abby, a lot. She was blonde and beautiful, working with the Child Protective Services as a counselor. She’d been wonderful to talk to, kind and gentle, but she wanted him to talk about real things. She pushed him to talk about Afghanistan and his time in the service. He just couldn’t do it, and he really didn’t want to. She had been mostly understanding, backing off the moment he started getting defensive, which always left a sour feeling of guilt in his stomach. The last thing he ever wanted to do was scare her.

Abby’s last straw after five months of dating was a particularly bad nightmare Tim had while sleeping at her house. He’d woken in a cold sweat, chest heaving and eyes wide, clutching onto her wrist for dear life as she tried to bring him back to the present. It had clearly shaken her up, and he’d known it the second he came back to himself. So, finding a box of his things on his porch was something he’d expected last week. 

The night of the nightmare he had grabbed her wrist too tight, and by the way she’d been nursing it as he apologized profusely, it was clear it was going to bruise. He’d scared her, marked her, and the next morning Tim had avoided every mirror he passed, fearing that the face he would see would be from the last generation of Gutterson men. 

He’d rather talk to her and apologize again, as he had that night, but if she brought his stuff to him when she knew he’d be on a run, then she definitely didn’t want to see or speak to him. He understood and didn’t blame her, but seeing that damn envelope still stung in a way he didn’t like. 

He’d write her a letter later, after work when he’d had the time to process whatever she wrote in hers. For now, he needed to get ready for the day. He gulped down the rest of his mug and set it on the side of the tub, then turned the heat up and finished his shower. 

—————————————————

“Well, kids,” Art called out to the row of Marshals in the office, leaning against the door frame, “we’re getting a new girl.” They’d spent most of the day finishing up on paperwork, since it was the end of the month, and any distraction was welcomed in the middle of the day. 

Tim, Raylan, and Rachel turned to look at their chief, then one by one at each other. Tim and Raylan looked at one another again, making faces at each other that could only be read as ‘ fair game. ’ 

He hadn’t told anybody but Rachel about Abby, and told her about her breaking up with him that morning. She just nodded and told him to come over for dinner, and he said he’d see. They both knew he probably wouldn’t come by.

Raylan looked back to Art, “Is this because you think Tim and I need more feminine oversight?” 

“No, she wanted a transfer off of the west coast, and with her qualifications I couldn’t say no, not that I wanted to. She starts Monday.” 

Art glowered at Raylan for a moment before saying, “And the answer is no, you can’t sleep with her. She’s too young for you anyway.” 

“So, Tim can sleep with her?” Raylan tipped his hat to Tim, who rolled his eyes in return. 

“From what I hear she’s too much of a badass to want to be anywhere near either of you, but my answer is this: nobody sleeps with their coworkers. Please, we’ve got trouble-a-plenty without interoffice romantic bullshit from you two.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘she’s a badass?’” Tim asked, a little offended.

“What? You thought you got to be the office badass forever? Someone had to come take your crown. But don’t worry, I’ll let you keep your dunce hat.”

“Much obliged, Chief.” He nodded at Art, who had had enough and went back into his office. Tim then turned to look at Raylan and Rachel, “What do you guys think?”

“I think you look good in the dunce hat,” Rachel smiled, standing from her desk and moving between Raylan and Tim’s. “I think some new blood could do us good. Art told me a bit about her earlier. Her name is Helen O’Malley, and she’s got quite the resume.”

“Jesus, that’s an Irish name if I ever heard one,” Tim groaned. He thought Gutterson was bad enough to have in a place like Lexington, but an Irishman in the backwoods? No, thank you, he would stick with German names in these parts. 

“Do tell, Mistress of Information,” Raylan ducked his head in mock subjugation to the junior Marshal. 

“She did some work for the FBI and Homeland, both files are classified and blacked out. I couldn’t get access to any of her file, not her birthdate, or even a picture. But for the last year she’s been working out of the Washington State district. She’s got over fifty arrests there.” 

“Damn,” Tim said, pursing his lips and thinking for a moment. Fifty arrests in one year was a lot, “think she used to be a spook?” 

Rachel shrugged, “Maybe. It would explain it, but it seems like she does good work, otherwise they wouldn’t keep all of her information classified.” 

“Why would a decorated Feeb wanna work for the Marshal’s Service?” Raylan mused, leaning back in his chair and biting his cheek. “Maybe she fucked up somewhere.” “Or wanted a change of pace from being a constant badass.”

“It is exhausting to be on your game 24/7,” Tim said straight-faced, standing up from his desk and heading for the coffee pot, leaning close to Rachel as he passed, “but I get by just fine.”

Rachel looked back at Raylan, who rolled his eyes at her. She went back to her desk, and they all busied themselves, trying not to think of what a new person would do to the office dynamic.

——————————

Being one of the district snipers meant that Tim was often called away from his desk to assist in various hostage situations, stake-outs, take-downs, etc. He didn’t mind, he liked the solitude it gave him. 

It was a calming experience for him. The three part act of setting up his rifle, settling into a position and waiting, then packing up and going home was something he practiced regularly, and he was the best for a reason. He didn’t usually have to talk to whatever officer or Fed was in charge, not that he ever had much to say when he was stuck with one of them talking his ear off about their own masculine prowess at one job or another. The guys who followed him around when he broke out his rifle were usually pencil pushers, promoted to SSA positions which rarely brought them into the field, and felt the need to attempt to out-alpha Tim and watch his every move. 

He didn’t normally mind. Well, okay, he did mind, but he didn’t usually let it get to him. But when he showed up to a situation in Lower Lexington that day, he was already agitated. Agitated with Abby, at the thought of a new person fucking up the office atmosphere, at Raylan for once again slipping out early and dumping part of his caseload onto Tim. It was all just shaping up to be a shitty, annoying day, when SSA Delano waltzed up to him as he was pulling his rifle from the trunk. 

He was a short, chubby, middle-aged man, balding in the middle and graying at the temples. He always smelled like he bathed in gin, and had the tendency to grin at Tim all the time, though it presented more like a sneer. He just rubbed Tim the wrong way, and Tim did the same to Delano, though Tim did it on purpose.

“Gutterson!” He yelled even though he was right behind Tim, clapping him heavily on the back. He was a good half a foot shorter than Tim, but somehow still managed to talk down to everyone he spoke to. “I was wondering when you were going to show up and find a place to perch.”

Tim only nodded, focusing instead on checking his go-bag for everything he needed. Granola bar, water bottle, large beanie bag, small beanie bag, extra set of clothes, pocket knife, extra ammo, second scope, and a handful of other things he’d found over the years that tended to come in handy.

“You always remind me of a bird, perching up on those rooftops, except unlike Tweedy you don’t ever seem to squawk as much. Your tweeter broken?” He clapped Tim again on the back, harder this time, and Tim kept himself from moving with the impact. 

“Good to see you too, Delano,” he said, still not having looked at the FBI agent. Delano squeezed his shoulder and gave a growl that was just a bit too aggressive to be playful. 

“Well, I’ll let you figure out where you wanna set up. We were talking to this dumbass on suspicion of kidnapping when he shut himself inside. He’s got a hostage with him, the victim he kidnapped. Had her hidden under the floorboards while we were there.”

Tim finally looked up at Delano. He stretched his hand out for the debrief file the agent had in the hand he hadn’t been using to smack Tim with. Delano slapped in down harder than necessary, which Tim didn’t react to, though he could feel his blood pressure rising just from being in the vicinity of the idiot SSA. 

He needed to stay calm, he had a job to do, and losing his temper with a man he was forced to work with often wasn’t going to get him anywhere good. Civility over momentary satisfaction, he told himself, keep it together, Gutterson.

It was a fairly straight-forward situation. Tim watched from his perch on a rooftop across the street, watching the target rant and rave, dragging around the poor sobbing girl he’d had stuck under the floorboards. She had dirt on her face, her cheeks ruddy from fear. Her hands were tied together with a zip tie in front of her, the muzzle of the gun wedged under her chin as he pulled her around the room.

Tim tried to focus on the man; whether his finger was on the trigger, if the safety was off, if there was reasonable thought that he could shoot the poor girl. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen.

“ Echo One, I have a clear shot at the target. ” Tim muttered into the mic in his collar.

“ Eagle One, take the shot if his hand even twitches near that trigger, ” Delano’s stupid voice cracked back into his ear. The Army part of him, the part that was a Sergeant, hated listening to a desk jockey like Delano, but his orders from Art were always clear. 

Do what you’re told, or at least do what you think is right. No international incidents.

He always listened to Art. He’d yet to have a situation where he thought he needed to ignore Art’s orders.

Tim watched the man through his scope. He couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he watched the man’s face and his trigger finger, feeling himself ease into that place of zoned-in comfort. This was the only thing to see, what was through his scope, nothing else needed to matter. 

“ Eagle One, take the shot. I’m tired of this shit,” Delano growled into his ear after a half hour of watching the two through the scope.

Fucking Delano. The man’s hand hadn’t moved. In fact, he hadn’t moved in at least 45 seconds, instead talking to the girl, stroking her dirt streaked hair with the hand wrapped around her shoulder. 

If Tim took the shot, he’d be killing an “innocent” man. The man deserved prison, but he hadn’t done enough for Tim to feel good about blowing a hole through his skull. If he didn’t do as he was told, Delano would have his skin.

“ Negatory, Echo One, for the record: the target’s hand has not moved and his finger is not on the trigger.”

“Dammit, Gutterson, pull the trigger.” 

Tim ignored him, continuing to watch the man through his scope. 

“Gutterson, take the shot, that’s an order.” 

Tim kept watching the man. The girl was saying something back to him. He looked at her for a moment, and Tim was ready to blow him away when the man threw the gun to the ground, releasing the girl. 

She ran out the front door, bound hands up, her clothes and hair covered in dirt, face streaked with tears. Tim kept watch on the man as agents stormed the house, pulling his arms behind his back roughly and slamming him to the floor. Only then did he put down his rifle. 

Methodically, Tim took apart his rifle and put it back in the case, trying to slow the steady pulse of anxiety that was growing in his chest. He knew when he stepped back onto the street Delano would start screaming, and Tim would have to stand there and take it without getting mad. 

Sure enough, the yelling began as soon as Tim opened the front door to the apartment building he’d used at his perch.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Gutterson? What?” Delano stepped up to Tim, coming chest to chest with the Ranger. Though, with Delano’s small stature it was more like Delano’s chest to Tim’s stomach. “They don’t teach you at Glynco to listen to a superior officer?”

His face mottled and red, Delano stuck out a finger and poked Tim in the chest as he spoke, “I thought all you pussies were good for was sitting on your ass and playing bounty hunter, but no! You’re also good for sitting, deaf, dumb, and fucking blind instead of doing as you’re told!” 

Tim just stared down at the man, making a point to clench his jaw and curl his shoulders toward Delano, in a silent effort to urge the man to back away from him. He was not in the mood. 

Another sharp poke. Heat began to rise in Tim’s face. Not out of embarrassment, but out of trying to control the rage that was beginning to boil in the pit of his stomach.

“What’s the matter? You forget how to be a good little soldier since you’ve been in Kentucky?” Delano was pushing it, a stupid sneer etched across his fat ugly face as he spit and screamed in Tim’s face. “The Army didn’t teach you how to blow skulls off of Hajis for no reaso-”

Delano didn’t get a chance to finish. Tim had clocked him in the nose, hard. The shorter man crumpled, and the rage that had burst forth retreated just as quickly as it had come. Fuck, he thought. Now he was really in for it. 

Tim bent down and wrapped his hand around Delano’s bicep, pulling him up straight as the agent cradled his nose, which had spurted blood down his shirt and across his face. Tim could feel it on his knuckles, already cooling in the evening air.

“Now you’th fucking done it, Guth’erthon!” Delano spit as soon as he was upright, jerking away from Tim’s grasp on his arm. “Wait til your thuperior geths wind of this!” 

He turned and stomped away from Tim, who was painfully aware of the thirty sets of eyes on him and his bloody knuckles. He took a deep breath, and headed back to his car, tossing the rifle case and go-bag in the trunk. He leaned against the tailgate door, taking a deep breath, savoring the cooling metal against his forehead. Monday was going to be a shitstorm of epic proportions.

—————————-

Tim stopped back at the office before heading home, but Art was already gone. Tim groaned, he’d have to wait until Monday to explain all this shit to him, sitting in a pool of uncomfortable anxiety for two days, followed by an uncomfortable week. 

He could still stop by Rachel’s, talk to her about what happened. She’d make him feel better, but then she’d make him feel worse by asking him how he was doing, and if he’d be okay at home by himself. She meant well, but all it did was gnaw at that mass of guilt that laid permanently in his gut. 

Instead, he headed to a bar close to his house. This way, if he drank himself into a stupor it would be easier to walk home. 

He was there more often than he’d like to admit. The small place, called Joe’s, was tucked between a record shop and a bookstore. Tim would often find himself stopping into the twenty-four hour bookstore after having a drink or two at Joe’s. The shy girl that was always behind the desk watched him nervously, and he always tried to make her laugh, but it never seemed to work. She’d peek at him from behind a book as he browsed, stumbling through the aisles and squinting in an attempt to drunkenly read a synopsis.

She seemed to disapprove of him and his drunken browsing, and all it did was make him try to win her approval more. 

“Cindy,” he smiled at her as he walked in, sober as the day he was born. His right hand throbbed from the forming bruises as he closed the door behind him. 

She stared at him, not saying anything, but seeming a little surprised he was here before midnight. Her blonde hair was piled in a bun at the base of her skull, her sharp cat-eye glasses giving her the stern, pinched look of a middle aged librarian instead of a woman in her twenties.

Tim tipped a hat he wasn’t wearing toward her, waltzing down an aisle where he knew he’d find something he liked. He found one about space goblins and intergalactic war, setting it down on the counter in front of Cindy.

She looked over at the clock on the wall, 8:23, then she gave Tim a withering glare, “Starting early tonight, huh?” 

“It’s been that kind of day, Cindy.” 

She nodded, ringing him up. “Well, pace yourself, at least. That’s a good one.” 

“Better than the one I bought last week about sentient cats? That was a bit too erotic for my taste.” He tried, hoping she’d smile.

“Yes,” she replied flatly, her frown set in stone. 

Tim nodded slowly, sliding the book off the counter with one hand. “Nice talk, Cindy.” 

She didn’t say anything as he walked out the door, just followed him with her eyes. Tim wasn’t sure how he felt about Cindy, but he was pretty sure she didn’t like him. One of these days he’d at least get her to laugh.

He turned out of the bookstore and into Joe’s, taking in the familiar smells of the bar. There were a few regulars he recognized, milling about the booths and the pool table. The lights were dim here, but there was a spot in the middle of the bar that had the best light to read under. Usually Tim would bring a book, read and drink until he finished it, then head to the bookstore to buy another one. It was a bad habit, he knew, and probably not healthy for him. He went through five books a week sometimes. 

He took his spot, cracking open the fresh spine and taking a deep breath of the pages. Ben, the bartender, poured him a double bourbon and left him alone, used to Tim’s ass warming that particular stool. Tim placed a twenty on the bar, a silent signal to keep them coming.

He was halfway through his third double and a quarter way through the book when someone sat down on the far side of the stool to his left. Normally he wouldn’t have looked up, but the smell of the woman’s perfume caught his attention.

It wasn’t overly strong, just a wisp of it hit him as she set her clutch down on the bar. It was a dark perfume, overtones of coffee and vanilla, with just a hint of something floral.

She had dark, unruly, curly hair and circular wire-rimmed glasses set on her pixie-ish nose. Under her soft, grey sweater he could see a scar crawling out from under her collar bone. Her ears were stretched. Not much, only about a half inch from what Tim could tell. It looked good on her.

“Old Forrester, if you have it,” she smiled at him softly. Ben nodded and pulled the bottle from behind the bar. 

Tim, of course, three drinks in, couldn’t help himself. “Isn’t that an old man’s bourbon?” He was hunched over his book, staring at her as she ordered her drink from Ben. 

She grinned into her bourbon as she took a sip, then turned to face him, “Why do people always say that to me?” 

It took him a moment to answer, struck silent by her face. Under her large glasses, a scar carved itself from the inner corner under her left eye, around her cheek and over her ear, disappearing in her wild curls, with another down the center of her chest, disappearing under the thin fabric of her sweater. The one on her chest looked surgical, the other looked jagged, like a serrated knife. 

He blinked slowly before responding, “Probably because you look like a college student.” 

“And what, pray tell, makes me look like a college student?” She asked, keeping steady eye contact with him. She was probably waiting for him to ask about the scars. He figured it was similar to the way people asked him about being a Ranger. Everyone wanted the gory details until they heard them and realized the person standing before them had survived things they couldn’t dream of. 

“Probably the gauged ears that went out of fashion half a decade ago, which was around the same time people stopped wearing Chucks.” He pointed down to her Converse-clad feet. She lifted one in response, admiring her scuffed and worn sneakers. 

“Guess I’m a child of the 90’s, always doomed to make poor fashion choices.” She took another sip of her bourbon and twisted her stool toward him. “What are you reading? Can’t be very good if you’re talking to me instead.”

“Maybe it’s just easier to see a real life fantasy girl than to read about one.” Tim winced, it wasn’t his best line. “Sorry, I’ve had a few,” he apologized, picking up the book and showing her the cover. 

She smiled at him anyways, amused. She read the title, “I’ve read that one. I liked it. The second one in the series sucked. Third one was worth how bad the second one was, though.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind when I get to it.” He dog-eared the page and closed the book. 

“You come here to talk books with unsuspecting women?” She asked, leaning against the bar and finishing her bourbon, “Or do you just like the atmosphere?”

Ben came by and poured her another one, which she thanked him for, handing him a ten. A red had started to spread across her cheeks, standing out against her olive skin and dark eyes. It was a challenge, and he was ready to play after the day he’d had.

“Well, usually I just come here to read by myself, but if a woman is kind enough to grace my bed because of it, I do my best to make sure she’s glad she did so.” He smiled, sliding into the seat next to her. She didn’t turn away, just crossed her legs and took another drink. 

“So you live close?” She asked, “Close enough that a book and a few drinks make all the difference.” 

“Right around the corner,” he said quietly, “It’s got a kitchen sink and everything.” 

“Wow, color me impressed.” 

“I’m nothing if not impressive.”

“Good to know,” she said, knocking back the rest of her bourbon and standing from the seat, brushing against Tim as she did. 

For a moment he thought he’d scared her off, but she just motioned toward the door and extended her arm, “Impress me, then, bookworm.” 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Notes: If you want to be on this taglist, send me an ask! Or see my masterlist for any series you'd like to be tagged in! :)

[cinnamonest]

Razor (Genshin Impact) - Yandere Profile

@bleachlemon

I'm glad you are ok with it because oh boy do I have some very very n a s t y noncon-y thoughts about our wolfboi. We love a dense boy, not a single thought in his empty, horny lil brain. Head empty, just horny for y/n. 

I also have the big horny™ for any cross between boys and canines... Does smth for me. As if my favoritism wasn't obvious by how much I've written below lmao

tw: general yandere content, violence, mentions of n/sfw

tw below cut: breeding, heavy  noncon, like jfc this is nasty, misogynistic

----

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

The biggest issue with Razor is his complete and total lack of restraint. He sees no need for it, he has no real concept of social norms. Wolves don't really practice restraint on... anything. When they see something they want to kill, they kill it, when they see something they want to have, they have it, when they're mad, they attack, when they're hungry, they eat.

So in a way, he's perfectly lucid, but doesn't act as a normal lucid person who understands social norms would do. He knows that you give him some burning, fluttery feeling, and that he enjoys having you around, and that he gets sad when you have to leave. He's perceptive enough to know it's the same urge that drives humans to form their long-term mate partnerships. If that's what they refer to as "love," he'll readily adopt that term as a way to describe what he feels. What he doesn't get is everything between point A and point Z. No point in all the "courtship" and "marriage" and other human customs -- he doesn't need to "date" to know you're the one, and he doesn't need some signed paper to signify he loves you. In his mind, it's perfectly logical to expect you to immediately come live out in Wolvendom with him. You did accept all his courtship signs, after all.

Wolves are very straightforward with it, you see. Their courtship includes going for walks side-by-side, close to each other, which you did when you let him guide you through the woods. Wolves will rest their head or legs on the other, and you let him rest his head on your shoulder (even if you flinched with surprise when he did, uncomfortable but too nice to say anything). He even when to the extent of engaging in human mating rituals -- you accepted all those gifts he hunted down, and you smiled when he said nice things about how pretty you are, how nice you smell.

So in other words, you've basically already accepted him as a mate. That's what he's perceived, and changing his initial perceptions is not easily accomplished.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

One of the most likely, and definitely the fastest. Possibly after meeting you a single time. He can't take the risk of you not coming back.

He won't be very subtle or sneaky about it either, not tricking you into walking right into captivity, nor drugging you or taking you in your sleep. It's very straightforward - it's not like there's anyone in Wolvendom to hear you, so he has no problem just slinging you over his shoulder and carrying you off. He kinda gets why you'd panic, so he reassures you that no, he's not gonna eat you or anything, you're just going home.

Don't worry about the pack - they won't eat you either, or even hurt you. He's already told them not to. He gets why you might be frightened by the massive, snarling creatures and their massive teeth and eyes that shine in moonlight, but he'll make sure you get used to them and accept them as your family, just like he has.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

That depends. Can you fight off two 180-pound masses of claws, teeth, and muscle? If so, sure, it'll be easy. If not... you'll have some issues.

He's lucky to have such a loyal pack that will help him with these things - they don't exactly understand why you'd want to leave, but they know you're not supposed to. Even when he has to leave you, which isn't often, he'll leave a few of them around to watch you. To make sure no one comes and steals you or anything - and of course, the implication that it's to make sure you don't run away, either. He doesn't really get why you would, but he's come to the realization, based on what you've tried to tell him, that you miss your family and friends. And he gets that, he really does, but in the end, he's selfish at his core, and his empathy for you isn't enough for him to just let you go.

He sleeps latched onto you, arms wrapped around you, so it's not a good idea to try. Your best bet is to wait for a time he's gone and distract the wolves with something, which isn't too hard, and run for it. But even if you do manage to escape, you won't be for long. They can smell you from a mile away and will use your scent to pinpoint you down within a few minutes. They don't exactly have any gentle ways of taking you down and bringing you back, either. They're basically going to have to use their teeth, so it's better if you don't struggle - you'll just hurt yourself.

If he catches you, though, he'll just get huffy and angry, and much like when initially taking you, he'll just pick you right up and bring you back. He's not opposed to stealing ropes and the like from the passing knights, and tying knots isn't too difficult to figure out.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Poor boy is very easy to lie to and manipulate. Head empty, not many thoughts up there. However, you'll have to be clever about it, because most of the time, even if he believes you, he doesn't care. Sure, you can easily convince him that it's normal for human couples to sleep separately... But that's not going to stop him from curling up with you, because that's what he does. That's what wolves do.

He will, however, be somewhat easily manipulated into getting you things you want, if he thinks it'll make you happy. However, obtaining things you want will almost definitely come in the form of theft, or worst case scenario, the body of a passer-by that just so happened to have something you wanted visibly on their person.

If he finds out you lied to him on something, he'll get pouty and grumpy. It's not pleasant, but it's better than the rage reaction of some yanderes.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

His life revolves around you, and yours should revolve around him. That's how mates are. You can go for walks in the woods! You can take naps in the sun together! You can spend literal hours mating! Why would you need anything else?

That being said, he's always had a uniqueness from the wolves in that he's awake more - wolves sleep about 14 hours a day, him only about 8 or 9. You'll definitely be getting a lot more sleep than you would back home, but you'll have a few precious hours to yourselves. It makes him happy - it used to be time he spent all alone, a reminder of how he didn't truly fit in with humans nor wolves. But now, you have that time together! He's willing to do most anything you want, so long as you're together. He's always had some adaptative differences he practices by himself - making fires, cooking food on them, wearing clothes. If you want to go exploring, you can do that, if you want to make food, you can do that too. He'll even accommodate you if you want to do useless things, like your insistence on teaching him to read, or practicing his speech.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

It's fairly simple. Don't leave. That's really the one big one.

He's actually not one to make a rule against fighting him - he'll see it as you wanting to play fight, wrestling, which wolves do all the time. It's fun, even if it's easy for him to win. And it's exciting when you fight back, in a weird way.

Don't make contact with other humans, if you see them. Oh, and he'll want you to report to him everything you did or saw while he was gone hunting.

Generally, if he gives you a command, which isn't too much, he expects you to follow it. In his mind, he's the male, he's supposed to tell you what to do. Isn't that how it usually works with humans too?

If you're too disobedient, he'll get grumpy. Honestly, his most likely form of dealing with it is to wrestle you to the ground, and essentially hold you down until you comply or agree to whatever he wants.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Rip.

But seriously. No, they're not going to last. He's one of the more paranoid ones, because deep down he's aware of how little he understands. For all he knows, every human male that talks to you could be doing what you call "flirting." Hell, didn't some girls like other girls too? How does he know which ones do and which ones don't? That means everyone is a threat, and he can't let threats get in the way.

He's not one of the ones to be subtle or try to hide it from you. He will probably try a little bit if he knows it's one of your family or friends whose blood is soaking his clothes when he comes back to you, but if it's random, he might even be proud. Look at that, he took down a whole search party that came looking for you all by himself! It's proof of his strength and dominance, and you should be happy that you have a strong mate to protect you! And he doesn't really empathize well - if you're upset, he will explain exactly that to you, and insist you change how you see things. Humans are so strange, being upset that your mate is able to protect you. You'll see why it's a good thing eventually, he's sure.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

He gets frustrated pretty easily. It's usually just a lack of understanding, in his mind, you're being unnecessarily difficult almost all the time. He has told you a million times he doesn't care about whatever is normal for humans, yet you continuously bring it up, and that's a bit irritating. He'll huff and sigh and clamp a hand over your mouth if you're going on about it, and if you really refuse to shut up about it, there are a variety of ways of making you quiet - or distracting you from complaints.

He's got an immature streak, as he never really had anyone around to teach him otherwise. So he gets very pouty, a little bit aggressive and forceful when it comes to being upset over something or getting his way. If he wants attention and you're not giving it to him, he won't hesitate to just take whatever you're holding and focused on of your hands and toss it to the side.

On the positive side, he's never going to be passive aggressive. He's always straightforward and has no hesitation to tell you exactly how he's feeling.

If he's genuinely, truly furious, he can get violent. He'll probably apologize and definitely feel bad, licking all the little wounds. He wouldn't try to do anything so bad as bone breaking or severely hurting you, but might accidentally lose control of his own strength.

Do they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

More or less an equal. Not much to say here, as, to be honest, that sort of thing hasn't really crossed his mind. He doesn't waste time with thoughts of relative value, he just knows he loves you and wants you.

Subconsciously, it would be slightly below. Due to a very natural upbringing, he automatically associates males as being the leaders and alphas, while females are... Well, puppy-making machines. Don't try to accuse him of any sort of sexism or anything - he can't even really wrap his head around the concept, much less understand why it's wrong to acknowledge how much weaker you are than him. If you need proof of that, he can easily wrestle with you and prove it.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Pretty highly determined. He mistakes a lot of things as signs of love, though. You might be only complying out of fear or exhaustion, but he won't be able to tell, he's not good with facial expressions, so he thinks it's a sign you're accepting him.

Honestly, he's one of the ones that, albeit unintentionally, will kind of guilt you into acceptance. You inevitably feel bad for him, you can tell how lonely he really is, and how desperately he loves you, wants you to love him. His intentions aren't malicious, and it's actually difficult to truly resent him, unlike some yanderes. Ironically, it reaches a point where rejecting him sometimes really does feel like kicking a sad little stray puppy in the rain - it makes you feel awful when he gets sad and quiet.

While there are a lot of yanderes who would be a lot more earnest and striving to serve and please you, which he doesn't really do, he's probably one of the most patient yanderes when it comes to this. He doesn't care if it takes the rest of your lives. He'll never give up or just settle for having you with him, he'll be loving you and trying to be reassured of your love till the day he dies, if that's what it takes.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Primarily, it's hard to emphasize how significantly his lack of human socialization impacts his yandere behaviors.

Most yanderes are forced to acknowledge the inherent wrongness of their actions - some will accept it and not care that it's wrong, some sadists enjoy knowing it's wrong, some will delude themselves into justifying it, some will try their best to act within moral boundaries or make up for their wrongness somehow. But all in all, they all have to face the reality of the situation and understand that what they're doing is considered wrong.

Razor's not like that. He doesn't really take the moral aspect into consideration. To him, the whole idea is simply a human thing entirely. It doesn't matter what humans do. He views the world in a very black and white sense. Morality is a more abstract concept, what's more important is how things are relative to himself - what he wants.

Tends to communicate in strange ways. Excess emotions, too much happiness or anger or whatever can make him forget his words, so there's a lot of subtle communication through grunts, whimpers, growls. Over time, you learn how to distinguish between the various noises and body language and what they mean.

Will lick you. It's weird. It's kinda gross. But it's just how he shows affection. He tends to get carried away with kisses, ending up lapping at your lips, licking your neck and collarbones, nuzzling his head into you.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Scientifically speaking, male sex drive is heavily boosted by testosterone. Testosterone can be greatly increased by heavy physical activity, eating high amounts of meat, sun exposure, and is even directly correlated to spending large amounts of time outdoors. 

You see where this is going.

Very high drive, very touchy, and no reservations, no shame. Thank whatever deity you care to recognize in Tevyat that you're isolated from other people out in the woods, because he has no concept of norms or appropriateness, and trying to get him to understand is a fruitless effort. You're wasting your time trying to explain the idea that groping and touching out of the blue is considered rude, or that most human men take issue with being very visibly, very noticeably hard and would likely try to conceal it, not just sit there with the blatant bulge poking forward... His response will only be that you're far away from humans, so it shouldn't matter. He's just trying to show you he loves you, that's why he insists on grinding into you all the time, staring at your body, humping you when you're curled up together quite ironically like a horny dog.

Unfortunately, he basically just does not know how to be gentle or slow about it. He can start off trying to be slow and soft if you beg for it, but once you're actually laying there and he's in you, he gets caught up in instinct and the heat of the moment, and just kinda... forgets about that whole "slow and gentle" thing, opting to just rut you as hard and fast as possible.

He doesn't talk much during sex. He already has some trouble forming sentences in normal times, you can't expect him to when he's fucking. You won't get a lot of words besides the occasional, "good, feels good," or little commands, but you will get a lot of animalistic noises - possessive growls, little whines of pleasure. He doesn't have any sense to hold back on his noises.

He's also the least likely to care about things like shaving, periods, or imperfections. Which is good, but you also can't use those things as an excuse to not fuck, it'll go in one ear and out the other.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

It's not so much an intentional disregard for your willingness, so much as a combo of not really considering it, and thinking it's just something you'll change on. If he's human, and he has the urge, that means surely you do too. Sometimes humans need emotional connections before they want to mate, right? So he just needs to express his love to you. The looping problem there is that fucking you is pretty much his primary way of expressing love. It'll work out in the end, he guesses.

His limited knowledge of humanity also will lead him to certain conclusions. From what he understands, human society often shames females for having sex and wanting sex, right? That's dumb. But their mentality is probably ingrained in your brain, isn't it? That's why you act like this. But don't worry, he's not like the human men. Wolves don't feel that way. You'll understand that with time.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Biting/Scratching/Marking

It's a natural reaction to him. If he's balls deep in you, mounted on and pounding into your body, thrusting so hard that your body is lurching forward with every movement, he wants a way to hold you still, keep your body in place so that each pounding goes deeper and harder. It's second nature for him to just sink his teeth into your jugular, your neck, your shoulders. As an added bonus, he likes seeing the marks it leaves behind, in addition to how his fingernails that dig into your hips leave little indents in your skin.

Breeding

He doesn't know how to not cum in you. You can't honestly expect him to pull out of you, you're so warm and wet and soft, it would be torture not to reach a climax buried inside that tight heat. You can go on a rant about not wanting to get pregnant, but it'll go in one ear and out the other. He doesn't get it - you're supposed to want to have his pups. Do you not think he's a suitable mate for reproducing? You'll be halfway through explaining why kids aren't in your current agenda before being flipped over and pounded into yet again with his newfound determination to prove his strength and dominance to you. Once you understand that, surely, you'll want all the puppies you can possibly make.

Predator/Prey

This applies mostly to escape attempts. He'll be mad, but it triggers something in him, something instilled by years of hunting down poor little prey animals. The desire to hunt you down, find you, and ruin you. Instead of ripping you apart like he would boars, he can't think of anything but just fucking you up against the nearest tree, the ground, anything. The faster you run, the more afraid you are, the more exciting it is. It's a very primal urge, one that commands all sorts of predators, both in feeding and breeding.

Forced Orgasms

As with many human things, he makes certain discoveries with time about sex. The first time you fuck, it'll probably be too rough for you to really cum, but it'll only be a few days in before your body adjusts to the girth that's frequently inside of you, and you end up spasming all over him - and he's just got this shocked expression, watching with amazement when you clench down and quiver under him. Wait, you mean human females can orgasm too? Not just the men?

From that point forward, he's determined to fuck, lick, grind, and force every orgasm out of you as physically possible. It makes him feel a weird sort of pride and contentment. It's one of the few things that makes him a big smug. Even if you feel like you can't possibly cum any more, he'll try anyway.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

It's your purpose! He has learned that human girls only have one baby at a time, sometimes two, which is nothing compared to how many pups wolves usually have in one litter. That means that you'll have to make up for the lack of quantity of pups with quantity of pregnancies, which means constantly breeding and breeding and making sure every last drop stays inside of you. He doesn't understand why humans would even want to prevent pregnancy, it's the best thing that can happen, it's the whole reason you're alive, and it's a sign that you're his. Like with most things, he knows eventually you'll come around. Once you actually have the pups there in front of you, you'll love it. He knows you will.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

He's a little lacking on the thought process behind punishing. If he's mad, it tends to cloud his thoughts, reverting to a more animalistic state, and he's not gonna have the complex thoughts required to really think through punishment, so it's not gonna be anything complex.

Doesn't really matter, if he's mad, just fucking you is going to feel like a punishment, with him slamming you into the ground, a tree, any rough surface nearby and just rutting you, claw-like fingernails digging into your skin and teeth sinking into your shoulder to hold you in place, a hand clasped around your throat. Fucking is basically the primary outlet he chooses for his emotions, happiness, love, stress, and anger alike, a simple, primal form of expression. If he's mad, he just needs to take it out on something, release all of that force and energy into rough, brutal motions. Normally when he's angry, he'll go hunt down some animal, taking all that anger out on the kill. But, recently he's learned he actually quite prefers to release his anger this way. It's more satisfying and enjoyable, and it deters you from stepping out of line, too. It's not just your average slightly rough fucking, no, it's the kind of fucking that will genuinely hurt you, rutting you over and over until your insides are burning from friction, your walls and cervix so completely bruised and abused you'll feel the  throbbing soreness with every movement for days, hands leaving massive bruises all across your hips and shoulders. Not that that's any excuse to not fuck more, no, no soreness will get you out of normal daily routine.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

He has a thing for breasts. They're very unique to humans, it's something he hasn't had the opportunity to see or understand, and he'll spend a lot of time just burying his face in them, licking and sucking. Big or small, doesn't matter. He just likes them.

One more nasty HC i can't not talk about

wait, you mean humans have sex... Facing each other? There are positions other than doggy? It's all he's ever seen. Porn and the internet don't exactly exist in this world. The whole concept blows his mind. He can fuck you AND see your face while he does? He'll nearly faint right then and there, and you'll regret bringing it up once you've gone numb from the repetitive pounding. He'll start asking you what else exists out there, his brain will start thinking of all the different ways to fuck he's never thought about. Once he learns you can ride him, he's in heaven, even if it's not so much riding so much as you sitting on his cock and him bouncing you up and down with such ferocity you can't even move your legs.

Speaking of things he doesn't know about, if you're smart, you make sure he doesn't find out about blowjobs. He'll love it, and it won't be a blowjob so much as him literally fucking your throat, grabbing your head and hair and just wrecking your mouth.

None of it is him trying to hurt you, really. He just doesn't understand how to be gentle. He might get better with time, but he's got a predator-born ferocity, a primal roughness that will always be a part of his nature.

(yes i did research on wolf courtship/mating rituals for this bc i suffer for my art)

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 1: Fallen!Cas

In A Fortress of Pine Trees | @mistofstars Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,380 Main Tags/Warnings: Endverse, Croatoan, 2014, 5x04, Smut, bottom!Dean, Angst, Top!Cas Summary: Future!Dean / Future!Castiel "Cas", he finally exhales. "I could need one of your amazing hippie massages right now" -it starts with a simple massage and ends somewhere else; Dean gives in to long neglected needs... DESTIEL in 2014

The Warmth of your skin | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,414 Main Tags/Warnings: Sharing Body Heat, Hurt!Cas, First Kiss, Naked Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, no explicit sex, human!Cas Summary: Dean and Castiel are in the middle of a forest, when a snowstorm surprises them in the middle of the summer. To make their luck perfect, Castiel breaks into the ice of a lake. There is only one way to survive this cold. Body Heat.

Are We Human? | @one-more-offbeat-anthem

Rating: General Word Count: 3,766 Main Tags/Warnings: human!/fallen!Castiel, first kiss, love confessions, pet cats Summary: After losing his grace, Cas struggles with being human. Dean tries to help him out—and in showing the former angel how to find joy in the little things, starts to find joy himself (if he's brave enough to reach for it). And also discovers that maybe cats aren't so bad.

The End Of The Beginning | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,885 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, omega Dean, alpha Cas, endverse, endverse Cas, heat, pwp, S5E4 The End, there's a sequel Summary: He just wished that Zach-y boy had picked a better time. Dean could feel those deep seated aches in his abdomen that could only mean he was a day or so away from his damn heat starting. Hopefully he could learn his little lesson before he had to lock himself away for a few days to keep himself from presenting to every damn alpha in a five mile radius. He usually took suppressants, but dealing with Lucifer had kind of taken front seat just long enough for Dean to miss a few too many doses. “Damn it,” he muttered to himself as he rubbed at his wrists, finally free. He wandered out to see where the hell he was. It was an old summer camp, that much he could tell, but that was about it. But as weird as all this was, as unreal and impossible as it had to be, the most mind blowing part was definitely Cas. Fuzzy, stoned out of his gourd, sex guru to a gathering of betas and omegas Cas. Cas, who smelled so strongly of alpha and everything that Dean had ever wanted that he had to shift himself when the guy wasn't looking to try and hide the quickly growing erection in his pants, praying that he wouldn't slick right through his jeans.

Finally Realized | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,018 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, alpha Cas, omega Dean, Dean in heat, human Cas, first time, porn with plot Summary: Dean is sick in bed, so Sam calls in a now-human Cas to come and take care of the cranky patient while he escapes goes on a hunt. Dean cooperates with Cas, but it just figures, when the cold is finally gone, his heat takes its place. Now denial stops being an options as Dean begs Cas for the thing he's always wanted, but could never admit to.

Sweet Cherry Pie | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,801 Main Tags/Warnings: No archive warnings apply, first kiss, first time, friends to lovers, top dean/bottom cas Summary: Dean takes the newly-human Cas to a diner to try some new foods. Cas wants more than a taste.

Tick Tock Goes The Clock | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,784 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, omega Dean, alpha Cas, human Cas, alcohol as a coping mechanism, implied mpreg, angst, porn with plot, drunken confessions, drunken sex Summary: It was a well known fact that every omega had a metaphorical biological clock ticking away inside of them, just waiting to spring the alarm and make the poor guy or girl go just a wee bit baby crazy. And as much as Dean Winchester tried to deny it, mostly to himself, the one inside him was gonna blow at any second. Even though Dean would never admit it to anybody, especially his brother, he had always felt pretty maternal towards Lisa's son, Ben. He’d always wanted a nice, big family with plenty of pups of his own, ever since he had presented as an omega as a teenager. At least, whenever John hadn't been pressuring him to act like the alpha his dad thought he should've been, that is. It had only gotten worse when Sam presented as a beta, so Dean had shoved that dream so far back in his mind that he completely forgot about it ninety-five percent of the time. That was exactly why the omega knew that his biological clock was gonna kick his ass any day now. Where he used to mostly forget about the idea of having a bunch of pups, it was now taking up the vast majority of his thoughts lately.

I Been Blind | @jemariel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 22,387 Main Tags/Warnings: Human!Cas, porn-watching, masturbation, mutual pining, porn with feelings, suggestion of m/f and m/m/f sex (in porn), oral sex, frottage, anal fingering, suggestion of bottom!Cas. Summary: Castiel is in love with humanity. At least, so long as he's not the one experiencing it. A lighthearted smutty romp wherein Dean helps Cas navigate the tricky minefield of human needs.

Roaming in the Dark (WIP) | @casbelieves

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24,624 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Explicit Sexual Content, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Bottom!Cas, Top!Dean, Heavy Angst, Smut, Fallen Angels, Apocalypse, Croatoan Virus, Canonverse, Minor Character Death Summary: A reimagined look into how "The End" came to be. Castiel does not return to heaven after he rescues Dean from his stint in an apocalyptical 2014. The brothers don't reunite. The angels do fall. A dangerous and deadly virus spreads worldwide. But, without fail, Castiel follows Dean and, perhaps, that is his only fault.

Room A Thousand Years Wide | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Mature Word Count: 34,921 Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Getting Together, Long-Suffering Sam Winchester Summary: Once the world and their lives are finally their own, and Cas has chosen humanity once and for all, he begins to find a new routine of daily life with Dean. Sam doesn't know how much longer he can take their apparently oblivious platonic domesticity, when their regularly scheduled evening goes out the window with a single text message from someone they never expected to hear from again. Ex-Ghostfacer Ed Zeddmore is afraid he's stumbled over something too big to let slide, and sends them a link to a potentially dangerous Ghostfacer wannabe, and a case that isn't at all what it appears to be on the surface. What they uncover dredges up a lot of interesting feelings all around, and they must finally face a few ghosts of their own.

Empty Spaces | @thisisapaige

Rating: Mature Word Count: 48,411 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Drug Use, Drug Abuse, Drug Withdrawl, Fallen Castiel, Pre-series Dean, Canonverse, Internalized Biphobia, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort Summary: [Castiel] found the colour. It was a green, one of the few gentle colours at the edges of his dreams and the one he tried to capture in his paintings, never quite finding the right hue. He spent so long chasing the colours, trying to find it though pills and needles, but they always evaded his grasp. Yet he found one, right here, hiding in the eyes of a stranger. He studied the colour, the subtle differences between dark and light, the little flecks of gold nearly hidden in the sea of green, the ring around the outside. He studied it, trying to commit the colour to memory. The other man cleared his throat. “Uh, dude?” Oh. Castiel forgot the colour was attached to a person. ~~~ What if Castiel had fallen before the start of the series and met Dean on a routine hunt? Set in the spring before Dean goes to find Sam in Stanford.

Gates of Bronze and Bars of Iron | iCeDreams (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 80,466 Main Tags/Warnings: Season 9 Divergent, Dean in Heaven Summary: Dean realizes that staying in Heaven and catching endless fish isn't living up to its hype. Especially since the gates of Heaven are still closed and there are no angels to guide you in the hereafter. Castiel is surviving Earth, fallen and human until a reaper brings his attention to a hunt forcing him to seek out his fallen brothers.