lawanya3810

[autumnfangirler]

the best(worst) retri route for chen is step succesfully saving their body and i think about that ending a healthy amount

[rip-quizilla]

You Could Kill Me (and You Should)

Pairing: Vampire!Eddie Munson X Slayer!Reader

Word Count: 16k

Tags: SMUT🔥🔥🔥, dubious consent, memory alteration, reader's pronouns aren't specified, reader has a vagina, oral sex, p in v sex, blood drinking, blood kink, unprotected sex, squirting, dom/sub undertones, vampire sex, references to Buffy the Vampire Slayer (but you don't have to be familiar to understand this story)

A/N: please read the tags! This work contains depictions of blood and VERY adult content. Minors, do not interact!

Bat divider made by @saradika ❤️

Hunting on game nights was never ideal. 

There were too many people around… the double-edged sword of vampire hunting. The great throngs of people made it easy for a poor soul to get lost in the fray, so it brought the baddies out into the open. On the flip side of that coin, what made an ideal hunting ground for vamps created a field of landmines for a Slayer. Throngs of people meant infinite chances to get caught in the open with a wooden stake in your hand, and that brought too many questions. 

Still, you could deal with humans; you had been your whole life. Hawkins, Indiana was just like any other town- people would believe what they wanted to believe, and you knew exactly how to spin a story into something they’d find acceptable. 

However, if you got caught out in the moonlight with the specific vamp you were hunting, you knew you’d attract the wrong kind of attention. You wanted to fly under the radar here; it was the only way you’d be able to live here long enough to stave off the influx of demons that liked to slip in time to time from the Upside Down- the hell that waited on the other side of this reality. Not every town was as connected to it as Hawkins was, but then again, not every town sat on top of a Hellmouth. 

A sound from behind you perked up the hairs at the back of your neck. You turned, making sure the brick wall of Hawkins High protected your back as you surveyed the empty courtyard before you. Everyone within a mile radius who still had a beating heart was in the gym, cheering on the Hawkins Tigers in hopes that the subpar basketball team might actually take home a win tonight. 

Well… everyone except for you, whose heart was beating alarmingly fast for someone who had slain so many bloodsuckers that you’d lost count. Why were you this nervous? Aw, who were you kidding, you knew why.

You weren’t hunting just any vampire this time. You were hunting Eddie Munson. 

You steadied your turncoat heart with a slow, deep breath. “Stop kidding around, Munson,” you said, keeping your voice low and eerily calm. “You know why I’m out here and I know you’ll only hurt me if you have to, so let’s just cut the formalities and have a little chat.”

A rumbling chuckle sounded from above, and when your eyes flicked up to the sky they were met with the sight of the most elusive and cunning vamp you’d ever had the displeasure of hunting. 

Eddie Munson. Or, as he was known amongst the town’s community of bloodsuckers, Kas the Bloody Handed. 

“Little chat, huh?” Eddie’s smiling voice echoed from where he sat on the edge of the rooftop above you. “Put away the stake and we’ll talk, Slayer.”

You kept your eyes on him, narrowing your gaze but complying nonetheless. You pocketed the stake, shifting your brown leather jacket to the side and sliding the wooden spike into your waistband. 

Were you dealing with any other vamp, you would have laughed in their face at the demand that you disarm yourself when vampires had nearly every advantage against you. You had Slayer strength, sure- but that was it. These demons had speed, strength, teeth, claws- the fact that sunlight would incinerate them was really their only weakness besides their need for blood. 

Correction- sunlight should incinerate them. Sunlight didn’t affect Eddie Munson. That wasn’t the only thing that didn’t seem to affect him- bloodlust was apparently not an issue either, seeing how he was a student. At a high school. A building just teaming with sweaty, hormonal teens who were just itching to do something stupid- one would assume that a vampire in a place like that would be draining cheerleaders left and right, but not Eddie. In fact, you’d been watching him for months now since you moved to Hawkins, and you’d never even seen him hurt a fly. Hell, you’d seen kids try and beat him up and yet he hadn’t so much as made a fist since the first time you laid eyes on him. 

That was why you’d sought him out tonight- this vampire wasn’t killing people, and it was making you suspicious. 

Once your weapon had been safely tucked away, Eddie hopped down from his insane height at the top of the school building and landed swiftly and quietly on his feet in front of you. He smiled at you lazily, his eyes twinkling with the curiosity and glee that came with sharing a secret.

“Excuse my forwardness, but I’ve gotta know-” Eddie began, hands in his pockets as he slowly sauntered toward you. “-how long did I have you going before you figured me out?” 

You pushed off the wall, casually placing your hands behind your back as you matched his stride in the opposite direction. You were circling each other, two predators locked in a deadly dance. 

“You’re a pretty good actor, Munson.” you replied, voice lighter than air but balanced out by the unwavering rock-solid gaze that remained locked on him. “I might not have figured it out at all if your friend at the hospital hadn’t spilled the beans.”

That got his attention. “Annie ratted me out?” His eyebrows were practically synonymous with his hairline. “Impossible.”

You shrugged. “Apparently HIPAA laws don’t apply to secret bloodbag dealers and their demon customers. In her defense, she was pretty tight-lipped until I had convinced her I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

That stopped Eddie in his tracks. He peered at you through his curtain of moonlit curls, his gaze suspicious and unsure. “You’re not?” 

You stood squarely before him at ease. “Nope.” you replied brightly. “And I don’t think you’re trying to kill anyone either… are you, Kas?”

His suspicion gave way to a blinding smile. “Well someone’s been doing their research!” You blinked and he was inches away, his enhanced speed catching you off guard; you instinctively took a step back before instantly regretting it. Eddie caught your momentary lapse in stature and his grin crept upwards in one corner. “Tell you what, killer, how ‘bout we put a pin in all your fun little Kas facts and cut to the chase, hm?” 

In a flash his hand held your chin firmly. Your grip flew to the back of your waistband, fingertips already caressing the smooth wood of your stake. You mirrored each other, the two of you standing in a twin stance with one foot placed in front of the other a shoulder’s width apart, his hand at your jaw and yours ready to stake the bastard at the first sign of a threat. 

“You’re here to protect people,” Eddie continued, “and I don’t plan on hurting anyone. We can coexist here, it isn’t that complicated.”

“I’m here to slay vampires.” You corrected, but Eddie only grinned and shook his head. 

“See, that’s not true- you would have killed me already.” He leaned in, a smug smile only taking up more space on his countenance. “Ain’t that right, Slayer?”

You’d expected that the decision to let Eddie live would come back to bite you in the ass, but surprisingly enough, nothing changed. 

You went to school. You hunted. You did normal teenager things. Not once did you witness Eddie Munson do a single thing out of the ordinary. 

Well…out of his ordinary. For a bloodsucking demon hiding among human teenagers, he liked attention far more than you’d expected. The more you thought about it, however, the more you saw his reputation for being the town freak as a genius cover. He was hiding in plain sight; any weird behavior would simply be written off as a cry for attention from Hawkins’ resident eccentric. If he wanted to, Eddie could be getting away with a lot more than stolen blood bags. 

So why wasn’t he?

You wanted answers, and surprisingly enough you had a feeling that it wouldn’t take too much for him to give them to you. You just needed to find a private place to ask him. Word travels like wildfire after a drought in Hawkins, and even if Eddie didn’t mind the attention, you on the other hand did. You couldn’t afford for people to start associating you with him, so you’d passed Eddie a note at lunch to meet you out in the woods at the old picnic table.

“Did you know I used to do drug deals in this exact place?” 

His voice sounded wistful as his body weight caused the weakened wooden bench to creak when he sat down with you later that afternoon. “Those were the days, man.”

You snorted. “You mean the days when you were human? Or are you a bloodsucker and a pill pusher? That’s an intersectionality I can’t say I’ve encountered before-”

“Back when I was human, smartass.” He cut you off, rolling his eyes. “Now, why did Hawkins’ shiny new vampire slayer invite me to meet in the middle of the woods? All alone?” he pretended to think it over for a second, feigning epiphany when his eyes widened and his brows shot up his forehead. His voice quivered, apparently auditioning to play the role of the victim in a slasher film. “Are you g-g-gonna k-k-kill me?” He braced his hands against the edge of the picnic table, scrambling to the ground as he amped up the drama while you watched, forcing a smile at bay. 

“P-p-please, don’t s-s-slay me, almighty S-Slayer!”

You snorted, shaking your head, unable to completely stop the ghost of a grin from sliding across your lips. “Having fun?” you snarked.

It took only a millisecond- in a blur of supernatural vampire speed, he was back up on his feet and sitting on the surface of the table. “Lots!” His smile was overwhelming- it was easygoing, unguarded, and above all things it was so human. It was disconcerting.

“The reason I asked you out here,” you said, getting down to business. “Is because I have some questions for you.”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed, that smile staying firmly planted on his lips. “I’m sure you do.”

“How can you be out in the sunlight without bursting into flames?” Every vampire you’d ever encountered would be reduced to ashes if they dared to step out the door in broad daylight, yet here was Eddie Munson- 100% bloodsucker, 100% sitting on a picnic bench and soaking up the rays that filtered in through the cover of tree branches. 

“I know a witch.” Eddie replied, eyes following you as you paced around the picnic table. “She did a spell. Next question?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Who’s the witch?”

“Not telling.” 

“I figured.” you lamented. “Do the blood bags satisfy you as much as fresh blood?” 

Eddie was quiet for a moment, then replied with a curt “They’re enough.”

“Enough to stave off the urge to- I don’t know- murder?”

His head whipped sharply in your direction, expression souring. “Have you seen me kill anyone? In all the time you’ve been here, have you ever seen me so much as harm someone?”

You paused. “No.”

Jutting out his chin triumphantly, he straightened his posture a bit. “Then stick to relevant questions, alright killer?”

You narrowed your eyes on him. “Your bloodlust isn’t relevant?”

He scoffed, tightening his grip on the edge of the tabletop he still sat on, and you could have sworn you heard the wood creaking beneath his white knuckles. “You may not be from Hawkins, but with that self-righteous, bigoted attitude you could’ve fooled me.” His head was hanging down, Eddie’s dark eyes trained on his Reebocks which dangled from where he sat.

When he looked up at you through his long, chestnut curls, the gaze he gave you was so disappointed, so intense, that you actually felt a pang of guilt even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. You’d accused a vampire of having bloodlust. What was there to feel guilty for?

“You’re a vampire, Munson. A demon.” you stated, matter of factly. “You need blood to survive, and you’re a killer by nature-”

“You’ve done more killing in this town than I have,” he laughed humorlessly, his voice tinged with exasperation. “-and I’ve lived here my entire life!” Eddie hopped off the tabletop, shaking his head. “I thought you wanted to have an actual conversation with me, but if you’re here to point out splinters and ignore the stakes, then I’m gone. Go interrogate some other vampire.” 

You stood your ground, watching Eddie walk back towards Hawkins High as you felt that guilt crawl into your chest and start to burrow there. 

You found it ironic that the Hideout was known for both being the bar in town that never carded, and being the bar that vampires frequented the most. It resulted in a clientele that was either immortal or too young to be there. 

Your presence in town had slowed down vampire activity quite a bit, but apparently that hadn’t been enough of a deterrent to rid the dive bar of their undead customers for the night. After a few years of slaying, you’d learned how to distinguish between prey and predator- there weren’t too many people in the bar since it was a Tuesday night, but that only made it easier to single them out. 

You knew what to look for: eyes that swept the room to sort out the hierarchy of those present. Skin that lacked the plumpness and healthy complexion that came with blood running freely through the veins beneath. Behaviors that reflected an intention to single out the weak and alone before isolating them, going in for the kill. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t who you were here for. Tonight, your attendance wasn’t attributed to any run-of-the-mill vampires. 

Funny enough, you were here to see the band. 

You sipped on your glass of cranberry juice, watching warily as tonight’s headliner situated themselves on the small almost-stage in the corner of the tiny bar. Long dark curls shadowed eyes that followed you with equal wariness, unsure of why you were here but intrigued nonetheless. 

Sitting stationary at the bar with your glass sweating in your hand, you took in the spectacle before you- four boys who looked fairly human, setting the crowd ablaze with songs about nonconformity, rebellion, and hellish imagery. Funnily enough, humans and vampires alike were all watching them, heads bobbing to the thrum of the baseline, all of them united in their quest to distract themselves from life- or afterlife- for the night.

You’d always loved how music did that- it brought together folks of all shapes and sizes, political ideals, religions, backgrounds… and it gave them something to agree on. Music made people feel something. Whether you were alive or undead didn’t seem to matter; people loved to feel things.

To your chagrin, you found yourself tapping out the melodies along with the crowd, bouncing your knee in time with Eddie’s band’s music. They were- surprisingly- not bad. The place was small enough that even though you were seated at the bar, you were able to get a good look at each of the band members over the course of their set. You recognized some of them from school- Grant was a nice guy, you had some classes with him. Gareth was… shy? Standoffish? Either way, he kept to himself and away from everyone who wasn’t Eddie- typical behavior for a vampire. Now, seeing the pallor of his skin compared to the lively flush of his bandmates, you were all but sure he was a vampire; one of Eddie’s underlings, no doubt.

You’d figured out as much information about Eddie Munson’s standing in Hawkins’ vampire community as you thought you’d be likely to get, being a vampire slayer in a town fraught with vampires. He was the first to become a vampire the Hawkins way, and that afforded him a certain level of respect among vampires here. Other than that, you were flying blind. 

Vampires existed in many forms across the world- name a continent, and you could rattle off some fun facts about that region’s particular breed of bloodsucker. Some born, some made, some immortal, some not- and they all had their own particular set of characteristics that set them apart and made slaying even more complicated. Eddie Munson had been the first of a new breed of vampire, and that’s why your watcher had sent you here; not only to slay, but to collect data. 

The audience’s applause for Corroded Coffin’s final song faded into a dull chatter and the clinking of bar glasses, and your attention snagged on Eddie as you watched him amble off the stage in your direction. The other band members stayed where they were, shifting around as they began packing up their instruments. Gareth’s eyes stayed on Eddie, narrowing when they crossed over his shoulder and landed on you.

“Didn’t take you for a metal fan, Slayer.” Eddie murmured just loud enough for you to hear him over the din of noisy patrons. 

You shrugged, sipping from your glass. “I listen to a little bit of everything. You guys aren’t bad.” Eddie hopped up onto the stool beside you, nodding to the bartender in a silent exchange. A half second later, Eddie had a freshly opened can of PBR sweating in his hand. 

“Thanks.” He was eyeing you warily, sipping slowly from his can. “So what are you doing here?”

He didn’t bullshit around when there was an elephant in the room… you guessed you appreciated that. “I wanted to see you in your element.”

He snorted into his silver can. “In my element, huh? Wouldn’t that be -I don’t know- catching me in the act of ripping someone’s throat out? Draining the blood from a litter of kittens or something?”

A pang of guilt threatened to nudge its way through to your eyes, but you didn’t let it get that far. “No,” You replied, “you said it yourself, I’ve never actually seen you hurt anyone. Or even try, actually.”

His gaze was measured, eyeing you up and down as if scanning you for some indication that you were planning on staking him right here and now. You waited for him to speak but surprisingly he didn’t, so you continued.

“I’d like to propose a truce.” 

Eddie smirked slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards enough to call into action the dimple hidden in his cheek. “Didn’t know we were fighting, I sure as hell haven’t been getting in your way, have I?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you’re getting at? You want an apology?” As Eddie’s smirk grew wider, your mouth moved in the opposite direction, lips forming a hard, tense line as you glared at the smug bloodsucking bastard before you. 

“I’m a Slayer. I’ve traveled all over the world with the sole purpose of killing vampires just like you-”

“There are no vampires like me, sweetheart.”

You snorted. “Yeah yeah, you’re so unique, we’re all aware.” You downed the last swig of your drink. “Can I finish now?”

He nodded, that grin still growing along his lips. 

“Every vampire I’ve ever met has wanted to kill people. Forgive me for having my defenses up when I came across one that didn’t.” Eddie���s eyes softened, as did the corners of his mouth. His smug grin now seemed a little more understanding, and maybe a little sympathetic. That last bit made you bristle.

“I’m not saying this for your sympathy, I just want you to know where I was coming from when I made assumptions about your…”

“I believe the term you used was ‘bloodlust’?” Eddie supplied, his tone accusatory but not altogether unfriendly. 

You sighed heavily. “I made assumptions. I’m sorry about that.” 

Eddie tilted his head to the side, digesting your apology. Finally, “Buy a round for me and my band and I’ll forgive you.” 

The stipulations of your truce were laid out the next day at lunch. You were able to convince Eddie to leave his cronies’ lunch table in the cafeteria in favor of a more private place to discuss your terms- the picnic table out in the woods. 

As per your side of the deal, Eddie would provide you a list of names of vampires that he knew followed the same lifestyle as him- purchase blood from his supplier at the hospital, go about their normal lives, and never harm a living soul. You would refrain from hunting any of them.

Eddie’s side of the deal: he promised not to interfere with the slaying of any vampires in town who didn’t subscribe to his way of life; in other words, if they tried to hurt a human or drink from any living animals in town, they were fair game for slaying. In addition, Eddie would provide you any information you needed about Hawkins Vampires, and you would relay that data to the Watchers’ Council for them to enter into their database. 

Unsurprisingly, Gareth Emerson’s name was at the top of Eddie’s list of vampires under his protection. When you saw it, you chuckled.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Surprised?” 

“Not in the slightest.” you laughed. “The guy clings to your side like a guard dog and barely talks to anyone else. And he always looks like he’s on the verge of ripping someone’s throat out.”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh along with you. “Well, in my defense, he was like that back in his human days too, I didn’t do that to him.” 

You peered over the list at the leather-clad vamp as he lit a cigarette. “But you did do the ‘vamparism’ thing to him?”

“Trust me, it wasn’t a premeditated decision.” Eddie may have sounded aloof, but you could tell that the words were strained. “I had only been…turned…for a couple of weeks at that point. I thought I could handle more human interaction than I really could.”

Your eyebrows jumped a fraction of an inch, but you tried to appear unphased. You hadn’t known too many vampires who could bite a human and manage to stop themselves before killing their victims at that phase of their afterlife. A vampire’s thirst could be nearly impossible to resist for the first few years after their transition, never mind the first matter of days. The fact that Eddie was able to bite Gareth without killing him was… impressive, to say the least. 

Regardless of how impressive it was, however, Eddie’s facial expression spoke volumes to you about how unimpressed he was by his choices at this particular moment in his history. You decided to air on the side of casual empathy. “Could have been a lot worse.” you said, voice soft but matter of fact. “Plus he has you to protect him.”

Eddie looked at you, eyes guarded and yet bursting at the seams with unshed secrets. You could tell there was so much more he wanted to say, but he settled for a simple, solid “Yeah.”

You didn’t pry. If you needed to know more, you’d find it out in due time, but for now you would settle for ‘yeah’. 

The two of you fell into a strange dynamic as your truce was put into effect. For one thing, he made an effort to seek you out in the hallways more; it was troubling, to say the least. You didn’t want people in this town paying attention to you. If they started taking notice of your unusual habits- never getting involved at school, lurking in graveyards and dive bars late into the night, keeping to yourself instead of falling into a friend group like normal teenagers were supposed to- they might start keeping a closer eye on you. A closer eye on you meant a closer eye on the vampires in this town, and the Watcher’s Council would have your head if you became the proverbial Pandora to open the vampire box in Hawkins.

The point was, Eddie was an attention magnet, and his incessant need to interact with you in front of an audience made it difficult to fly under the radar in a town where gossip traveled faster than the average speed limit.

“Slayer!”

His calling you that in the middle of the hallway just after the final bell didn’t help things in the slightest. He was half-jogging through the throng of teens, dodging and weaving between bodies as he made his way to where you stood at your locker with wide eyes trained on the most obnoxious vampire you’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Can you not call me that in the middle of a crowded hallway?” you hissed at him once he’d reached your side. In reality, you knew the chances were slim that anyone within earshot knew what a Slayer was, but you weren’t about to test that theory. 

“Sorry, killer.” Eddie quipped, shit-eating grin loud and proud on his beaming face. “Just wanted to catch you before you left without me.” 

You quirked an eyebrow. “Without you? What, are we carpooling now?”

“Yeah, unless you want to get drenched in the tempest going on out there, sweetheart.” 

Your mouth was open, poised to argue before Eddie wordlessly scooped up your backpack with effortless strength, shouldered it, and began marching down the crowded hallway. He didn’t even wait for you to close your locker, so you had to make quick work of grabbing your books and locking it shut before bumbling after him.

“Excuse me,” you huffed, power walking in an effort to keep up with his quick pace. “Is there something about me that screams ‘I need to carpool with Eddie Munson’? Because if there is, I will happily correct the issue.”

Eddie hop-skipped through the front doors of the school, threw a chuckling look over his shoulder at you, then took off running through the pouring rain in a straight shot to where his van was parked. 

You had no choice but to run in the same direction; he had your backpack. 

In a mad dash through the sky’s heavy onslaught, you shielded your head best you could until you made it to Eddie’s passenger door. The rolling percussion of raindrops on pavement was cut starkly short at the shut of your door, and you breathed a sigh of relief before swinging your head around to look at Eddie Smug-Faced Munson, scowling for all you were worth. 

“There are quite a few ways I can answer your question, Slayer, all of which could get me staked…” He twisted slightly to toss your backpack into the backseat, where it landed on a discarded t-shirt and a mess of paper and spiraled wire that must have been a notebook at some point. When Eddie turned back to you, your faces were mere inches from each other, both of you trusting the center console with your weight. Eddie’s movements stilled, his eyes flitting ever so quickly down at your barely-parted lips. 

You were close enough to hear his soft intake of breath. “Could be worth it, though.” 

Your cheeks heated, and you briefly wondered if vampires felt the stolen blood in their cold bodies rush to places in times of tension. Breaking eye contact, you crossed your arms over your chest, brushing your biceps and shoulders with your hands in an effort to warm your rain-drenched skin.

 “Just drive, Munson. I have a stake in my pocket with your name on it if you try anything.” 

Eddie shook his head, smirking widely. “And here I thought you were just happy to see me.” Shifting the car into drive, he expertly navigated his way out of the parking lot and onto the main road that would take you to the small apartment you currently lived in, courtesy of the Watchers’ Council. 

“You’re hunting tonight, right?” Eddie’s voice cut through the rain-spattered silence in the van, jerking your attention from the hypnotic sight of his struggling windshield wipers. 

“Yes?” Unintentionally, the answer sounded like a question.

“Take me with you.”

You snorted. “You, a vampire, want to go vampire hunting?” 

Eddie shrugged, keeping his umber eyes on the glassy road ahead. “Now that I know there won’t be any innocents on your hit list- yeah, sounds fun.”

You arched an eyebrow. “If I end up staking anyone tonight, you won’t stop me?” 

“Good vampire, remember?” he reminded you, placing a hand over his heart before flashing you a reassuring grin. “If somebody’s out there hurting people, I want them off the streets as much as you do.” 

And that was how you wound up with an undead hunting partner for your nightly patrol of Hawkins for malicious undead. 

Despite being the unlikely duo that you two were, you actually looked like a pair of vampire slayers on a usual patrol- the two of you both wearing combat boots and leather jackets to match. The only tell that this wasn’t your normal routine was the stark silence occupying the space between you. You ended up being the one to finally break it after the first few minutes of patrolling as the two of you strolled through the Hawkins’ cemetery.

“So if we run into some unsavory vampires tonight… how are you gonna kill them?”

“What do you mean, ‘how’?”

“I’m not letting you use my stakes.”

Eddie angled his head toward you, a grin dancing on his lips. “Aw, scared I’ll stake myself on accident, sweetheart?”

“Oh I would consider that a happy accident.” you matched his grin in stride, teasing the tip of your tongue through your teeth. 

“Aw, don’t say that! You know you’d miss me, baby.”

Baby?

You sped up your pace a fraction- just enough for him to leave your periphery. “I am not your baby.” You tried to laugh through your response, but it got caught in your throat, tangling with the words and straining them in a way that sounded less lighthearted than you’d intended.

“Well look at that, I found something that makes you nervous.” You could practically feel his smugness from your two steps ahead. 

“Nothing makes me nervous.”

“I do.” 

You scoffed, speeding up your pace. “You do not-”

In half a second he was in front of you, vampiric speed landing him directly in your way, forcing you to stop short. He was eyeing you down, arms crossed and lids squinted in concentration. “Why’s your heart rate getting faster, then?”

You huffed a breath into the cold air, sending wisps of heat to curl and dissipate as they hit Eddie’s solid form. “Annoyance. Rage. Could be a number of things along those lines.” You sidestepped him, marching forward purposefully. Eddie followed suit beside you.

“Along those lines, you say.” He mused. “Y’know, those lines in particular can get pretty blurry.”

Eddie paused, waiting for you to take the bait. He waited a long time before giving up on that, because under no circumstances did you plan on doing so. 

“The lines,” he continued, “between rage and other feelings of… equal passion.” 

“You saying you want me to more passionately say you annoy me, Munson?” You quipped, refusing to meet his eyes that were practically begging you to look his way. “I will, don’t tempt me.”

“I’m quite sure you’ll find I can be very good at tempting you, baby.”

You huffed, chin whipping to the side to give him a full view of your serious face. “Stop calling me baby.” You regretted looking his way immediately, because those dark eyes were staring you down with an intensity that caused the air to leave your lungs and your voice to falter.

“Yeah… y’know-” Eddie’s grin was shining in full force now, watching you like you were a puzzle he’d just made a breakthrough in solving. “I don’t think I’m going to do that. This is the first time I’ve seen you flustered.”

“Shut. Up.” You muttered, eyes focused on a newer-looking grave about ten feet from the two of you. 

“Hm, sounds like something a flustered person would say-”

“Eddie,” you hissed, already reaching for the stake in your back pocket. “Shut. Up.” 

It took him a second, but he followed your gaze and saw what had you shifting gears- the low, wet sound of something sucking, accompanied by the pat pat of excess blood as it dripped to the cold earth. Slightly obscured by the headstone you’d spotted, a vampire had found some unsuspecting soul to snack on. 

You held your wooden stake aloft, ready to strike. “Ready to watch the master at work?” you whispered under your breath.

Eddie matched your volume, whispering back an encouraging “Hell yeah, go get ‘em, baby.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, carefully advancing “Just shut up and watch my back, Munson.”

“Oh I will gladly do that.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m adorable.”

You arrived home around dawn, just as the sun had begun to peek over the horizon and paint the morning in blushing shades of pinks and purples. Your apartment was a little efficiency located above a pawn shop downtown. The entrance was behind the building, which meant that there weren’t any snooping neighbors to watch you entering your home in the wee hours of the night. In a town like Hawkins, this kind of privacy was a valuable commodity.

Eddie had insisted on walking you home since it was so late- or early- which tickled you to no end since he’d just watched you take down a vampire pretty much single-handedly. He climbed the squeaking fire escape two steps behind you, stopping at the final landing as you began to unlock your door. 

“You can go now.” You told him curtly. 

“You’re not going to invite me in?” You almost laughed; he actually sounded hurt. He was a good actor.

“You act like I haven’t studied vampires every day since I became the Slayer.” You placed your hands on your hips, “As If I’m about to give you an all-access pass to my apartment.”

Eddie laughed, his chuckle a dark and musical thing. “Baby, if I was going to kill you, don’t you think I would have tried already?” His hand was resting on your doorway, blocking the light from the time-yellowed lamp that lit the left side of your doorway and caging you in with his shadow.  

“For all I know, this is you trying.” You stood your ground, arms crossed solidly across your chest, refusing to cower even though he was looking at you like he wanted to wrap his teeth around you.

He leaned forward ever so slightly, eyes heavy and hungry. “Do you think that’s what I’m trying to do?” His gaze flicked to your closed door and back to you in half a second. “You think if you walk through that door and invite me inside, I’m going to try to kill you?”

You studied him for a moment. “No.” You hadn’t meant for the word to come out in a whisper, but that’s what happened anyway.

Eddie’s gaze remained unmoved. “So you’ll invite me in?”

“No.”

A chuckle escaped through the crooked smile that invaded his lips. “So fucking stubborn. You know I can smell you, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, confused. Smell what? Did you work up a sweat fighting that vampire? There’s no way you smelled that bad-

“I can smell you, baby.” His lips were moving against your ear, brushing the little silver rings that decorated your cartilage. “You’re right, you shouldn’t let me inside. But I can smell how curious you are about what might happen if you do.”

You were suddenly very aware of how wet you were- you felt a rush of heat as a fresh wave of slick rushed through you, undoubtedly moistening your panties. He could smell that? You were frozen, at a loss for words that could adequately respond to his insinuation.

Before you could react, Eddie’s hand was on your face, gripping your jaw just tight enough to slightly purse your lips. You felt the cold bite of his silver rings on your skin, sending goosebumps trickling down your spine. He looked you in the eyes, his gaze growing deeper and darker, and you began to relax into his grip as you realized that he truly did not intend to hurt you. 

“You should invite me in.”

His eyes were so beautiful… how had you never noticed them before? They practically glowed… no, they actually glowed. They were like a neon fucking sign, bright and crimson and shining such a beautiful rose-hued glow that they looked more like rubies than irises.

Your lips moved to echo him. “I should invite you in.” Of course you should. He wasn’t going to hurt you- with every second you spent with his skin on yours and his eyes boring into your own, you became even more sure of that. He just wanted to make you feel good- so, so good…

“And are you going to?” Eddie’s voice was so beautiful- how had you never realized how gorgeous his voice was?

“Yes.”

“Good. That’s a good Slayer, unlock the door, baby.”

And you did. It was the easiest decision you’d ever made. You stepped inside, immediately shedding your coat and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. “Come inside, Eddie,” You smiled at him, letting down your defenses. You were so tired of putting them up around him. “It’s cold out there.”

He matched your smile, looking at you like you’d hung the moon. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing.” He crossed the threshold easily, following your lead and shrugging off his leather jacket and hanging it beside your own. He glanced around the little apartment, an appraising look in his gaze. It was just one room, a small studio with a modest kitchen and living space. Your modest bed frame sat nestled in the corner beneath a skylight, along with a small armchair and a closet with the few belongings you’d taken with you to Hawkins. 

“Bed looks cozy.” Eddie mused. 

“It is.” 

He nodded towards it. “Go sit on the edge.”

And of course you did. You sat up straight, keeping your eyes on him and waiting for that beautiful voice to say something else. You so wanted him to keep talking; each word was like a warm shower after hours in the cold, relaxing you into a happy little puddle. Eddie watched as you perched yourself on the edge of the bed, slowly stalking across the room until your knees were almost touching his. 

He stared at you, his gorgeous dark eyes glowing deep red. “Open your legs.” You did. Without breaking eye contact, Eddie commanded you again. “Tell me how wet you are for me.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he raised a hand gesturing stop. “I’m sorry baby, I misspoke.” Placing both hands on either side of your hips, Eddie leaned forward until he was close enough for you to feel his cold breath on your face. “Stick your hand down your panties and feel how wet you are for me. Then tell me out loud.”

You nodded, happy to comply. Your hands were cold, but you didn’t care. You eagerly snaked your hand under the waistband of your pants, shivering as your icy fingers traced a line down your pelvis until they reached the heat beneath your panties. The moment they dipped over the hood of your clit, you were mildly surprised at just how soaked you were.

“Talk to me, baby,” Eddie’s voice washed over you, and you felt a fresh gush of heat pulse through your core. 

“I’m soaked, Eddie.” It was the truth; you couldn’t imagine lying to him when he was so curious. Besides, you wanted him to know that he was reducing you to a deluge in his honor.

Slowly, Eddie sunk down to his knees on your floor. His head was level with your open knees, hands dragging down the skin of your outer thighs as he inhaled the air between your legs.

“Take your fingers out of your pussy, I want to taste them.”

You did as he asked, wide eyes rapt with attention as you watched him grab your wrist and shove your drenched fingers in his waiting mouth. His tongue made you want to melt; it lapped along the skin of your fingers and savored the tart, heady flavor of you. You whined when his lips popped off your hand, but eagerly changed your attitude when his fingers began tracing your waistband.

“Tell me you want me to taste that pretty pussy baby, I can smell how bad you want me already, you smell so fucking good.” 

You did. You wanted him to taste your pussy very badly… you wanted it more than you could remember ever wanting anything before now. “I want you, Eddie.” you panted. “I want you to taste me, I’m so wet for you.”

Eddie’s eyes shone up at you, like light through a glass of dark red wine. “I know, baby, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll have my tongue on you again in a second.” He slid his hands into your pockets, gently yanking on the material and jolting your hips forward. “Take these off for me.”

Your hands flew to the button of your pants, making quick work of them as well as your panties while Eddie helped you remove your shirt. You wanted to bare yourself to him completely, let him devour you whole, even. When you looked into those beautiful eyes, letting him have you just made sense.

You now sat completely naked at the edge of your bed, Eddie kneeling before you taking in the sight and smell of you. His gaze was hungry, his hands tracing possessive lines into your outer thighs. “You’re going to lie back for me,” he said, voice low and commanding, “and I’m going to taste this pussy that’s been leaking for me since I first called you baby in the graveyard.” Your eyes were wide, desperate- stuck on his like a moth to a flame. He pressed his hands to your knees, opening you up as wide as you could go, and you felt his breath on your wet lips.

“Go ahead, Slayer.”

You laid back, staring up at the morning’s gradient of cerulean and lavender through your skylight as your heart began to race from the anticipation. When Eddie’s tongue licked a broad, wet stripe from your entrance to your clit, a reedy, wanting moan pulled from your chest, singing into the stillness of your apartment. 

“That’s it, give me every noise you have, baby. I’ll know if you’re holding any back, and believe me when I say I’ll make you moan one way or another.”

And make you moan he did. Eddie’s tongue was masterful in its movements, licking and flicking in the perfect places as you listened to the symphony of noises that were coming from between your thighs. Between the sound of his wet tongue squelching in the juices that you eagerly supplied and the humming little moans that Eddie made as he feasted on all you had to give him, it was all you could do not to start sobbing from how badly you wanted to cum for him. You knew he’d get you there, but let’s be honest- you were not a patient person. 

“More, Eddie- hngh- please, I need… aah!” Your pleas were cut short as you felt a sharp suck at your swollen clit. You moaned, high and pathetic under the careful ministrations of Eddie Munson. His two middle fingers plunged into you, not bothering to give you time to adjust because he knew you were already wet enough to take him. His fingers curled slightly, sharply jerking his hand up and in, over and over in a way that filled you like a water balloon. You were whining, loudly arching your back into your bed as you squeezed your eyes shut, sensing your climax was fast approaching-

“No,” Eddie lunged forward, his right hand never ceasing its assault as his left grabbed you by the neck, wrenching you forward into a crunch position. “Look me in the eyes while you cum, don’t you fucking close those fucking eyes, baby.”

Your mouth hung open, eyebrows drawn together desperate and needy as you felt yourself getting impossibly wet and impossibly tight. His hand kept going, ruthlessly pounding into you as you screamed his name. Curses tumbled from his lips as he watched you soak his hand, and all the while his other hand stayed curled possessively around your neck. Wetness sprayed from you, and his eyes were downright feral as you squirted all over his face. You watched his smile grow, stretching across his face in triumph and baring his fangs in all their unholy glory before turning his head to the side and opening even wider.

Then he sunk his teeth into your femoral artery, and sucked. 

You moaned- loudly- and then you woke up. 

Being a vampire slayer who’s had a sex dream about a vampire was pretty embarrassing. 

Being a vampire slayer who’s had a sex dream about Eddie Munson was… inconvenient.

When you’d first woken up from… the dream… you’d spent your first waking moments frantically trying to figure out how much- if any- of it had even happened. Had Eddie even walked you to your door, or had you parted ways at the cemetery? Had he actually called you baby? Did he admit he could smell how much it affected you when he’d called you that? Most importantly, had you actually invited him into your apartment? 

It took a few minutes, but eventually you sorted out reality from whatever your traitorous brain had concocted. You and Eddie had hunted last night. He did indeed call you baby at one point and teased you about how defensive you got about it. You’d slayed a vampire while Eddie assessed the victim, and afterward the two of you had taken her to Annie at the hospital and updated her on the situation. With Hawkins’ vampire population growing by the day, this wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a newborn; she knew what to do. 

After that, you’d gone your separate ways. As far as you knew, Eddie still didn’t know where you lived- though, you knew if he wanted to find out then it wouldn’t be difficult for him to follow you home undetected. The good news was that he still hadn’t been invited into your home, so you were probably safe as long as you were inside your apartment. Of course, the rules for Hawkins Vamps were still mostly unknown to you, so there was a possibility that he might be immune to the invitations-only rule that bound most types of vampires- but you weren’t about to take him home and test that theory.

Then there was the compulsion- the ability to control the minds of humans and turn them into subservient prey at the mercy of their vampiric predator. You had heard of some vampires having this ability, but had never actually come across it in your time as the Slayer. You hoped that this dream had just been the product of loneliness and sexual frustration taking over a sleep-deprived mind, but how could you be sure? Maybe everything in your dream had actually happened, and Eddie had simply compelled you to think it was all a dream. Maybe he had some sort of psychic powers specific to Hawkins Vampires, and he had planted the dream in your brain just to fuck with you. 

You didn’t know what was real. On top of that, Eddie kept trying to get your attention at school the next day and it was getting more and more difficult to ignore him without being obvious about it. You successfully avoided him for the duration of the school day, but he finally caught up to you as you were walking home. Driving his van at a steady crawl, he rolled down his window next to where you walked on the grassy shoulder. 

“You wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all day?”

You sighed, too chicken to meet his eyes. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Yes you have.” 

You sped up your pace, which was stupid because Eddie was literally driving a motor vehicle. 

“No, I haven’t.”

You were still refusing to look at him, but you could hear the eye roll in his sigh. “Quit being difficult, Slayer,” he said, still keeping equal speed with your barely increased pace. “Get in the van.”

“No.” 

“Uugghhh.” Eddie groaned. “Please? I don’t know what I did wrong but I’ll make it up to you.”

You shook your head but still faced forward as you trudged along on the side of the road. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You didn’t think he had, anyway. “I’m just… I’m in a weird funk today, don’t read too much into it.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Okay, then get in the van.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the thought of being so close to him… just the idea was enough to get you wet. You felt the familiar gush of arousal as you walked even faster. “No.”

An echo from last night’s dream reverberated in your skull. So fucking stubborn. You know I can smell you, right?

You picked up your pace. 

Eddie sighed, jerking the gear shift into park. In a moment, he was inches in front of you, his hand planted firmly on your shoulder. 

“Stop,” he said, his tone much more all-business than before. You did what he said, begrudgingly, but you were glad you didn’t feel any real need to be obedient. No compulsion, then… you thought, at least not right now. 

You slowly looked up at him, hoping he couldn’t smell the effect that his sudden touch had on you. “Eddie, it’s fine. Seriously.” you tried to smile at him reassuringly, but you could feel on your face that it came out looking more like a cringe. 

Eddie was silent, looking you over with an unreadable expression. Finally, he spoke, “Please get in the van. I’ll take you out for food, whatever you want, my treat. If you aren’t going to tell me what I did to make you so mad at me, at least let me make it up to you somehow.” 

You thought it over for a moment, eventually conceding and nodding your head. Eddie exhaled a sigh of relief before turning on his heel to open the door for you. When you were both seated in the car, Eddie looked over to you cautiously, questioningly.

“Milkshakes?”

You nodded, eyes still facing forward. “Milkshakes.”

Benny’s had everything. 

They had the best burgers in town. They had the best fries, the best chicken fried steak, the best pancakes in the morning. But the milkshakes? They were the best you’d ever had- which was saying something, since you’d lived in twelve different small towns just like this one since your Slayer powers awakened four years ago.

You sipped your vanilla milkshake through a red-striped straw and let the sweet, dependable flavor ground you. It was like releasing a breath you’d been holding since you’d woken up that morning. Eddie’s powers of observation didn’t need to be above average for him to notice the relief washing over you.

He sipped his chocolate shake, raising an eyebrow as your shoulders relaxed into your first suck of the straw. “You don’t have to talk about it, sweetheart,” he murmured against the plastic held between his lips, “but if there’s something on your mind, you can talk to me.”

Yeah, but you are the thing on my mind, you thought, and therein lies the problem.

“I appreciate the concern, Munson, but I’m fine.” You shrugged. “Like I said, it’s just a weird funk. Normal. It happens.” 

Eddie didn’t seem convinced, sipping from his straw as he studied you intently- it was making you uncomfortable. 

“Stop staring at me.”

“Stop lying and saying you’re fine, I can tell something’s up.” Eddie reached up with one hand and tapped on one of his dormant fangs with a fingernail. “Vampire senses, remember?”

Your heart rate picked up at the thought of what his vampire senses might be sensing, and you could instantly tell that Eddie had heard it from the subtle tick of his eyebrow. 

“Speaking of vampire senses,” you started, eagerly trying to turn the conversation away from your current state, “I have some questions about your, um… powers. Specifically, about Hawkins vamps in general.”

Eddie seemed surprised by the new line of questioning, but nodded cooperatively. Leaning back in his squeaky booth seat, he let go of his glass to stick his hands nonchalantly in his pockets. “What do you want to know, Slayer? I’m an open book.”

Pulling your legs up to rest on the seat of the booth, you made yourself comfortable, leaning against your backpack that sat between you and the wall. “Are you able to enter someone else’s place of residence without an invitation?”

“Yes.” 

Your eyebrows jumped. “Really?”

Eddie was already nodding. “I already knew my fair share of vampire lore before my stint in the Upside Down… I tested the more popular vampire theories pretty quick after I figured out what I was.” 

You smiled, your curiosity eclipsing the nagging worry in your chest regarding his answer to your first question. “Which theories?”

Eddie chuckled at himself, making a show of counting them out on his fingers. “Well, the first was running really fast- really, really fast, I mean you’ve seen me-” Your scoff and eye roll earned you a cheeky wink from the vampire. “-tested out how good my hunting skills were in the forest by hunting down some squirrels, and let me tell you, super speed and super hearing can only get you so far, because those motherfuckers are always on alert. Learned how quiet I can be now, which is weird because staying still and silent has never been my strong suit.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” you snorted. “And you told me the sunlight thing doesn’t bother you because of your witch friend- what was her name, again?”

“Nice try, but I’m still not telling you.”

You smiled, throwing your hands up in mock surrender. “Worth a shot, I’ll find out eventually anyway.” Taking a sip of your milkshake, you kept your voice even as you asked your next question, which was arguably the most important to you at the moment. “So, uh, are there any other powers that you’ve noticed? Powers that don’t fit into the ‘popular vampire theories’ umbrella?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Such as?”

Ugh. “Well,” you began, focusing on a spot on the table where the vinyl coating had begun to peel off and using your fingernail to help it along. “In some regions, there are vampires who can read minds or compel humans to do whatever they say. Some can even bite humans without turning them.”

“Damn,” Eddie whistled, “lucky bastards.”

“So you’re saying you can’t do those things?” you prompted, to which Eddie shook his head and sighed. 

“Nope. First and last time I bit someone, I turned my best friend into a monster. Didn’t feel like testing that theory anymore after that. Can’t read or control minds either, but honestly I’m fine with that. That kind of power doesn’t tend to end well for people.”

You nodded, sipping the final bit of milkshake down. “Wise words.” 

Eddie did the same, fishing out his wallet and slapping a ten dollar bill on the table before standing. “They’re the words of someone who’s flown close enough to the sun to know himself pretty well by now.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded towards the door. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you stood and followed him, catching the door as he opened it for you. “Thanks for the milkshake.”

“Don’t worry about it, consider it an apology.”

“I told you, you didn’t do anything! I’m just in a funk-” but if Eddie could hear you, he didn’t show it as he jumped into his van and closed the door. 

The drive to your apartment wasn’t long, only about five minutes. Approaching your front door with Eddie in tow gave you the strangest sense of deja vu even though the only time this had happened before was in your dream. You stood with him in the doorway, the warm light of your single-bulb lamp casting harsh shadows across his face as he watched you with eyes tinged with something imperceptible. 

“Gonna invite me in?” Eddie asked, his voice husky and eerily quiet in the cold air. 

You smirked, feeling slightly apprehensive knowing that he didn’t need an invitation, but was asking for one anyway. “Why, you trying to snoop through my things, Munson?” 

Eddie snorted, “We both know that I could if I wanted to, sweetheart, and I wouldn’t need your permission.” He shrugged, leaning a shoulder against the chipping paint on your doorframe. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“Since when has that been your priority?” you bit back, but there was no venom in it. You were already jiggling your key into the brass lock and turning the knob. You weren’t sure why Eddie wanted to come in, but he was right- if he had malicious intent, he could barge into your home whether you wanted it or not. You made a mental note to request some demon-repellent poultices from a witch friend of yours to remedy that…

The door creaked open, and you tried to shake off that wild feeling of deja vu that kept washing over you with every similarity to your dream that kept occurring. Eddie’s boots thumped against the floorboards, heavy souls claiming the aging wood with every step they took. He surveyed your apartment, assessing what he saw with nods of his head and crossing of arms. 

“Well I can tell you don’t plan on staying long.” he mused.

You raised an eyebrow, closing the door and locking it behind you. “What makes you say that?”

“The walls are empty. Nothing in here looks like you picked it out. I didn’t know better, I’d think I was in a hotel room. ”

You raised your eyebrows, nodding. “Perceptive. You’re not wrong, you know. I don’t usually stay in one place very long.”

“What’s the longest your wardens have let you stay in one place?” Eddie had hopped up on your tiny kitchen counter, his arms straining against the fabric of his leather jacket as he braced his hands on the ledge. You hoped he hadn’t noticed the way your eyes lingered on the way your dim lighting glinted off his bicep. 

“Watchers. Not wardens.” you corrected, shedding your own leather and dropping the coffee-colored jacket over the edge of your bed. “And it’s never been more than a year. If you want to get technical, I think I was in Las Vegas for around 11 months.”

He quirked a curious smile. “Vegas, huh? Lot of vampires there?”

You shrugged. “Tons of tourists to munch on and nothing but nightlife. Believe me when I say that city is run by vampires.” 

Eddie chuckled, “Guess that makes sense.” He looked down, as if he were debating whether or not to say whatever he was thinking at the moment. Then- “Any idea if… well, have they told you if you’ll be here long?”

You smiled; it was a small, tentative thing, but you allowed it to grace your lips. “I’ll probably just stay until the council is happy with the knowledge I’ve accumulated about Hawkins vamps. Once they feel I’m needed more elsewhere, I’ll be packed up and moved within days.” You averted your eyes from his, suddenly finding it difficult to voice the reality that any day, you might have to leave Hawkins. Leave the friendship you’d started to get the slightest bit attached to. 

You heard Eddie scoff- it wasn’t bitter or laced with venom, but it was hollow. An empty, breathy laugh that didn’t do much to cover the vulnerability he had shown by simply bringing up the subject of how long you’d be staying. “Well, you know what they say- hate to see you go, love to watch you leave.” 

It was an attempt at glossing over the mournful mood that’d begun lingering in the air. You looked up at him, brows pulling together in a hopeful, sweeping arch. “You really hate to see me go?”

The smile he’d plastered on was devious and smart-mouthed, but it softened at your question. “Yeah…” he said, his voice lower and rounded as he stroked his fingers along his jawline. “...I think I hate it.” His head stayed down while his slitted eyes looked up at you beneath bushy brown brows. “I was just getting you to like me.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “Who said I liked you?”

“Your heart rate.”

Well, if it wasn’t true before, it was now. You felt all the blood in your body suddenly rushing through your veins with purpose. The room was feeling surprisingly hot, and you absently pondered whether you had left the heater on when you had left that morning. 

Your voice matched his quiet timbre, “And what’s my heart rate saying?”

He slowly stepped down from his perch on the countertop, stalking toward you with care, as if he were approaching a wild animal. 

Ironic.

“Well,” he started, “something in your brain obviously must have told your heart that you might have to run soon, because your blood’s been racing since I walked through that door.” He took a step closer, and now all you had to do was look up and your faces would be parallel, his eyes boring into yours. “Your body still knows I’m a predator, that’s good.” 

He was right. Your blood was racing under his gaze, and he could undoubtedly feel the heat that was radiating off of you- but that didn’t mean you were ready to openly let that show. “What about you? Big and scary ‘Kas the Bloody Handed’?” you asked. “How does your body react around a vampire slayer?”

Now you looked up. He was glaring down at you, pensive and predatory as a cheshire grin slowly crept across his features. “That depends on how much blood I’ve got in me, sweetheart.” You were leaning against the edge of your tiny excuse for a kitchen island, but now that his hands were planted on both sides of your torso and braced along the tiled edge of the countertop, you felt caged in with nowhere to go and nothing to look at except his eyes as they glowered down at you. “If it’s been a while since I've fed… well, to be honest I get a little hungry.”

Breathe.

“And if you’ve had your fill?”

He chuckled. “Oh, baby, if a vampire ever tells you they’ve had their fill, they’re lying. There is always room for more.” You felt a chill, and the blood in your veins was screaming at you now to grab a fucking stake!! However, you couldn’t seem to tear yourself from this conversation. The way he made you feel- hot, ironically enough- was gluing you to the spot. 

“But if I’ve got some blood in my system,” he continued, “I have to confess, Slayer, just seeing the way you look at me is enough to make all of that blood rush to all sorts of places.”

You were both silent, but the air was pregnant with the question he knew you wanted to ask. A few short breaths were all it took to make you give in. “And… how do I look at you?”

His thumbs ventured to brush over your hips through the material of your jeans, and you jumped at how much the contact affected you. You took in a sharp breath in surprise, and the strained sigh that rumbled through his chest in response nearly made you shudder. 

“Like… a fox that knows it’s being hunted. Wants to be hunted…knows it could outsmart the hunter, but wants the chance to run simply for the thrill of it.”

Fucking. Breathe.

“Is this your way of saying you’re hunting me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, like the tension between the two of you was so fragile that it could be shattered if you spoke loud enough.

Eddie’s lips were inches from yours, and you could feel his cold breath on your cheeks. “This is my way of saying that I don’t need to.” He nodded sharply in your direction, “Fox.” He squeezed your hips, tugging you gently closer to him, “Trap.”

You squirmed under his gaze but refused to look away from his smoldering eyes. “Bold of you to assume I’m the fox in that scenario.”

“Yeah, yeah…” his husky whisper rasped into your ear when the soft brush of his fingers along your hips became a firm grasp as he effortlessly lifted you up to sit on the counter behind you. He did it so swiftly, so easily… it wasn’t hard to forget about his vampire strength when he barely showed it. He gazed into your wide eyes with a grin that was playful but hungry. “Big bad Slayer is a hunter, not hunted. We’re all aware, sweetheart.” 

His hands splayed atop your thighs, and you couldn’t remember a time before now that you had felt anything as acutely- or with as much anticipation- as you were feeling every inch of him touching you right now. Your inner calves touching the outer sides of his thighs. The knobby contact of his hip bones where they wedged between your knees. The way his fingertips pressed into the meat of your thighs ever so slightly, like he feared how hard he could squeeze before he hurt you. 

You watched his hands, breathless as you studied the light that glinted off his silver rings. There were splotches of faded black shining on a few of his fingernails. It wasn’t nail polish; you’d seen how he colored on his nails with black Sharpie when he got bored in class. Those black nails shone reddish-purple when the light hit them just so, and you shivered as they traveled further up your thighs until he reached the part of your hips that had the most flesh for him to squeeze. A low growl danced in his throat when he heard the noise that escaped you at the sensation his hands were supplying.

He squeezed tighter, tentatively testing how much of his strength you could handle. Luckily for him, slayers are not delicate creatures. 

Wordlessly, you lifted your hands to his shoulders, letting your fingers twist into his dark curls. They were beautifully brown, frozen in the perfect shade of chocolate until the end of time. Your nails gently met his scalp, raking through the roots until both of your hands were nested deep in his hair. 

You made two fists and pulled. 

It wasn’t a sharp tug, wasn’t meant to yank him away from you; it was a slow pull, meant to tease and tell him that you weren’t afraid of a little pain, given or received. He was testing the waters, and you were giving him the all-clear. 

His eyes screwed shut when you pulled his hair, and it wasn’t from any sort of pain but simply from the fact that you were doing it in the first place. Eddie took a deep, shuddering breath as he opened his eyes once again to glare up at you with enough impassioned heat to give his bloodless body a temperature. He clenched his jaw until it ticked, then mumbled “alrighty then” so quickly and quietly that you didn’t even know if you were meant to hear it.

And then he was slamming you against the wall. 

Your thighs straddled his waist, ass seated in Eddie’s stone-strong hands as you felt your back hit the drywall. His eyes were pitch black, hungry for so many things but settling for your lips as he captured them in his own. You kissed him back fervently, desperate now that you knew his touch and the sensations that came with it. 

“God you smell so fucking good,” Eddie growled, pressing into you at the waist and pinning you to the wall where he held you tightly. His lips were insatiable, kissing you like your lips were dipped in sugar and he was a starving man. He panted against your mouth, breathless. “Always smell so fucking good… might be obsessed, I want…want…”

“Want what, Eddie?” you panted with him, eyes fluttering open, wanting to see the way he looked at you when he said things like I might be obsessed as he kissed you… who wouldn’t want to see that? You weren’t disappointed with the sight.

Framed by the backlit baby hairs that formed an evening halo around his head, you might have thought at first glance that Eddie looked angelic. Oh, how wrong that would be. His eyes held far too much gluttony for that.

He leaned in to scent the crook of your neck, causing you to shiver as the tip of his nose traced the base of your skull before whispering into your ear-

“Want to taste you- in every way-” You shivered. “-I want to feel you on my tongue, running down my throat, soaking my hands, falling apart…” Eddie’s lips traveled down your neck, mouthing over the veins that pumped your life force at top speed under sweet, pliant skin. “I want to break you just to know what you look like broken by me.” 

The two of you were waltzing on the line of your collective self-control, and you knew all it took would be one little bite- one tiny prick of his fangs- and his venom would pour into your bloodstream. Then it would be goodbye, humanity.

Mustering up the slightest amount of dignity (with surprising difficulty), you took one hand out of his hair and braced it on his shoulder while the other stayed fisted in his curls. With a sharp tug, you used your Slayer strength to remind him he was evenly matched here, yanking him from your neck and bringing his bloodlust-glazed eyes parallel to yours. 

“Fucking try it then.” you hissed, “See if you can break me.”

Eddie’s familiar roguish grin triumphantly returned then, and you barely registered his nasal scoff and a rush of wind before you were suddenly being flung onto your bed across the apartment. Eddie climbed on top of you, caging you in with solid arms and a scarlet guitar pick that dangled from his neck to dance on the skin of your collarbone. 

He stared down at you expectantly, all-business. “Take your shirt off.”

“You take yours off.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Are you really in a position to be giving the orders, Slayer?”

In a split second, you grabbed his wrists and hooked a leg over his hip, rolling over in the blink of an eye. Now, you were seated firmly on his hips, back arched to splay over his torso and pin his wrists to the mattress. Eddie’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden display of strength and dexterity that he had apparently forgotten you had. 

You grinned, cocky. “I am now.” 

Eddie glared, thrusting upward in hopes that he might throw you off balance, but to no avail. Rotating his hands in your grip, Eddie dexterously took hold of your wrists and gently pressed his nails into your skin. You winced; his nails were sharper than you’d thought they would be. Almost like…

Claws. Eddie’s nails had grown into catlike points, and now they were applying a little too much pressure. Any more than this and he would surely draw-

“-Blood.” 

You whispered to yourself as you watched the bright bead pooling where Eddie’s thumb had pressed hard enough to puncture skin. Before you had time to react, Eddie was pulling your bleeding wrist to his face, inspecting his handiwork up close. He caught a whiff of your scent, inhaling deeply before exhaling so heavily that it rumbled low in his chest. Bringing your wrist to hover above his mouth, you felt your survival instincts kicking in as Eddie’s grip on your arm tightened, squeezing more of your blood to pool into the drop that now hung precariously from the cut in your skin. 

Eddie’s finger on the top of your wrist raised, then firmly tapped down hard enough to shake the drop free and send it falling into his waiting mouth below. 

You watched, transfixed as Eddie moaned at the taste of you on his tongue. He licked his lips, spreading your blood across them and letting your essence settle into the cracks in his skin. You wondered how long his lips would taste like you after tonight. Would it only take moments for the flavor of you to leave his skin? Or would he still taste you in the morning?

Eddie’s eyes rolled back in his head, his composure slipping under the influence of your blood in his mouth. He pulled your wrist to his mouth and licked greedily at the tiny puncture wound, gently sucking but still staying careful enough to keep his fangs far away from the opening. You were trusting him to be responsible here, as stupid as that was, but so far he seemed to be completely aware of where the line was, and he was careful not to cross it. Test it, maybe… but he wouldn’t cross it. At least you were hoping he wouldn’t.

His gaze settled on yours, and you found yourself at a loss for words. He smiled proudly, slowly sitting up until his face was even with yours. You’d long since let go of your grip on his other hand, and now that your bones were suddenly jelly, it was easy for Eddie to lift both hands to your neck and slot both of them so that his thumbs and pointers rested on either side of your ears. He pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately and sharing the taste of your own blood from where it still lingered in his mouth. 

“Tastes like fuckin’ honey.” He murmured against your lips, tongue snaking out to lick into you, and you couldn’t tell if he was referring to the taste of your lips or the taste of your blood. You recognized it in his kiss- the metallic flavor rolling over your taste buds and awakening something primal in you. Your hips bucked into his, and you felt the solid length that ached for you through his jeans.

Eddie chuckled darkly, rolling his hips into yours in response. “Careful, baby.” You felt his lips lowering, placing gentle wet kisses along your throat. Your heart raced to a bounding pulse as it dawned on you that were he to bite you here, he could kill you quite quickly. “Mmmmmm,” you shivered as his voice reverberated through your neck. “I can feel your blood rushing faster. That just for me?” 

You forced yourself to breathe as you confirmed his suspicions with a small nod. Eddie sighed, hot breath pluming from his nostrils and across your skin. “Just for me… all for me…” His tongue emerged once again and licked a fat, wet stripe along the center of your neck, and you couldn’t stop the desperate moan he pulled from you at the sensation. His hand slid down for his thumb to make slippery caresses over the trail of spit he’d left behind. 

“I’ve never tasted blood this good, sweetheart. It’s… I don’t know how to describe it, it’s like the way you smell, but better.” His thumb pressed ever so gently into your throat, and you felt the tip of his sharpened nail rake a promise against your skin. Eddie kept it there, pausing for a moment, and you realized with a pang of emotion that he was trying to stop himself from asking for more. 

You allowed the slightest bit of tenderness to break through to your exterior, smiling gently at him as you leaned into his touch. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “I can trust you not to take too much, right?” 

The lights were dim, but you could see enough of Eddie’s face to make out the glowing smile your trust had elicited. His hands curved gently along the back of your neck, cradling the base of your skull as he pulled your forehead to rest against his own. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

So much warmth flooded your chest at Eddie’s praise that it almost scared you. You knew this wasn’t compulsion- you felt complete control of your body and mind, and felt aware of your ability to tell him no. In fact, you knew in your heart that if you told him that you wanted to stop everything now, he would obey without a second thought, bid you goodnight, and walk right out that door. 

But you definitely did not want that to happen.

That much was made clear by the pornographic moan that tumbled from your lips as Eddie’s claw drew a single, shallow gash down the center of your neck. His hand slotted under your jaw, applying enough pressure to hold off the blood flow above your neck for the fewest of seconds. Blood pooled in the cut, and Eddie admired his handiwork with hungry fascination. 

“Gorgeous…” he muttered, leaning closer. Your heart was racing, undoubtedly causing the blood to rush even faster to your neck, and when you heard Eddie fucking inhale the scent of your blood like it was a perfectly aged Bordeaux? It started beating out a marathon. 

The moment your scent hit his nostrils, you shivered as a guttural, primal rumbling rolled from Eddie’s chest. The growl grew into a moaning sigh as you felt his warmed wet lips envelop the base of the cut on your neck, and lick into the life that pooled there. 

He sucked, pulling more into his mouth and you whimpered slightly from the sensation. As if to comfort you, his hands slid a little further down so that they cupped the vertebrae at the back of your neck, and it was strange how you could almost feel his touch getting warmer the more blood he took from you. He pulled your neck closer, hungry for all you had to give him.

For a moment you started to worry, fearing that you may have overestimated Eddie’s control over his bloodlust, but your worries were put to rest when he detached himself from his latch and licked up the minimal mess that he had made. 

“Let’s get this off of you, Slayer.” 

Eddie’s hands snuck underneath the hem of your shirt, causing you to shiver at the sensation of cold fingers on heated flesh. Before long, You were both stripped down to nothing and panting with need, a tangle of hands and lips and pulses as you melted into each other in the moonlight. He pushed you gently onto your back, climbing over you slowly and with purpose. You felt the hard length of his naked cock bounce against your thigh as he did, and the anticipation you began to feel between your legs was hot and wet, dripping from your lips as if it were salivating for him. You bucked up involuntarily, eliciting an amused chuckle from the vampire on top of you. 

“Easy, baby,” Eddie cooed, “starting to think you only invited me in for one thing.”

“Oh blow it out your ass.” you rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t pretend you weren’t hoping for that one thing exactly.” 

Eddie smiled, a twinkle in his eye launching your heartbeat into overdrive as he planted a quick peck to the cut on your neck and began to lower himself further south. “I may have had a hunch, yeah.” You watched with rapt attention as his face drew closer and closer to where you wanted him most, the echo of your dream still potent in your memory. What similar talents might the Eddie from your imagination have shared with the Eddie that currently studied your glistening pussy as if it were a delicacy to devour?

In your heart of hearts, you knew that every move you’d made tonight since Eddie walked through that door was absolutely insane. Masochistic, even. But your own idiocy was no match for the ecstasy that hit you when Eddie’s dextrous tongue dove into your folds, twisting and lapping up the essence that he craved in ways that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your arching form. 

You moaned, writhing under his touch as his tongue glided over the dripping lips of your core, savoring the flavors of your arousal and the way they paired with the taste of your blood that still lingered in his senses. 

“Taste so fucking good, sweetheart, goddamn.” Eddie’s voice was muffled, wet and hot in the way he spoke it into you and moved his lips along your pussy to speak the words. The sensation coupled with the commentary all but broke you, and you mewled a bewildered thank you as he continued his ministrations. 

A sharp sting jolted you, ripping your eyelids open- you didn’t even remember closing your eyes- and it took a second to realize that Eddie had used his sharpened nails to create another gash at your inner thigh. It stung, but only slightly, so you assumed the cut must not be too deep. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, did that hurt?” Eddie’s voice was soft and sympathetic as his fingers toyed with the small wound, gently pinching and pressing to undoubtedly coax more blood for him to enjoy. 

“Little bit,” you whispered, and the voice that came out of your mouth was so high-pitched and airy that you hardly recognized it. “-but it’s not bad. It’s not too deep, right?”

“Nah, barely even a scratch.” Eddie assured you. “Besides, I’ll close it in a second anyway.” 

Your head popped off the pillow. “You can do that?”

“Check your neck, sweetheart.” 

You brought a hand to the place where Eddie’s cut had been, but were amazed to find that the cut was completely gone. You felt nothing but smooth, unscathed skin in its wake. Bemused, you checked the cut at your wrist and found it had healed as well.

 “How did you do that?”

Eddie shrugged, the pads of his fingers beginning to draw idle shapes over your clit, mixing your blood with the wetness of your cunt. “Apparently, all I have to do is lick a scratch and it heals itself within minutes.” You jolted when you felt his lips close around your clit and suck, whining at the suction as he drew the mixture of your flavors into his mouth and hummed in satisfaction. 

“Now if you don’t mind,” he murmured, “I was in the middle of something down here.”

You barely had time to nod before he was diving back between your legs, lapping up your essence with an urgency that lay somewhere between passionate purpose and reckless abandon. He alternated, going back and forth between the bloodied gash on your thigh and the shimmering lips of your dripping cunt. 

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, arching into the mattress as he moaned into you at the intensity of your taste. “More, please… I need… inside-” 

In a blur of movement, Eddie’s face was level with yours, and you were staring directly into his lust-blown eyes as his cock nudged its head between your folds. Eddie shuddered at the feeling, closing his eyes as ecstasy overtook him and he slowly sheathed himself completely into you. 

“Hoooooly shit, sweetheart-” Eddie gritted out through clenched teeth. His arm reached behind your shoulders, pulling you flush against him and bringing his mouth to hover mere inches from your ear. “Fucking made for me, so fucking tight.”

When Eddie began to move, your hips bucked to meet him instinctively. In your current position, Eddie had you caged in and wrapped in his arms, held in place as he thrusted into you and grunted sweet, filthy nothings into your ear.

“Feel so good squeezing my cock, baby.”

“Wrap your legs around me, don’t let me leave.”

“God, you smell so fucking good, can still taste you on my lips.”

“Such a good little vampire slayer. Take it all, sweet thing.”

You were getting closer with every word; each whispered praise in your ear made you tighten more and more, but you weren’t quite there yet. As if he could read your mind, Eddie’s hand snaked down between your naked bodies until his middle finger came to rest on your throbbing clit. Careful to keep his claws from scratching the sensitive area, the soft pad of his finger slipped small circles over the wanting bud. 

You mewled, eyes rolling back at the combined sensations. The stimulation was overtaking every sense, numbing you to everything but the climb of your orgasm that awaited you on the other side of the peak you were climbing. 

“You know what’s crazy, Slayer?” 

Eddie’s voice was husky in your ear, and you’d barely registered what he’d said before he continued. 

“I didn’t even need the power to control your mind. Didn’t need to make you want me like this, you did that all yourself.”

You struggled to comprehend what he was getting at, but a particularly forceful thrust caused a sharp moan to leap from your lips. Eddie laughed, and it was somehow both musical and malicious all at once.

“Dreams are funny things… I showed up just to see what would happen, thinking ‘hey, there’s no way in hell she’d have me, right? But maybe in my dreams’...” Eddie chuckled ruefully, shifting slightly to angle his cock further into you and moaning at the way you gripped him tighter when your leg was tilted just so. 

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. What did he mean he showed up? As in, showed up in your dream? Your mind was reeling, spinning in the midst of the jumbled logic of his words and the mounting pleasure his cock was driving into you.

“But it wasn’t even in my dreams that you wanted me, it was yours… in your dream you gave in to me so easily, practically begged me to tell you what to do…”

What? What was he… was Eddie saying what you thought he was saying? You squirmed, trying to lift him so you could look him in the eyes, but he held you in place- immobile and at his mercy. Your eyes widened as you stared up at the skylight in your ceiling. The moon was full tonight, and it stared down at you unwaveringly as Eddie continued to thrust into you and hit that spongy spot within your cunt over and over and over.

“The compulsion was a great touch, I hadn’t even thought of that until your delicious little brain took a turn for the kinky.” You could hear the smile on his panted words. “One dream told me all I needed to know… you wanted me just as bad, Slayer. Wanted- needed- permission to just let go and admit you wanted the bloodsucker’s cock, didn’t you?”

“Y-you….ah! Oh, fuck!” 

You tried to respond, tried to tell him you needed a second to process what he was telling you, but before you could get more than a word out his finger began to work your clit at a pace so rapid, only a demon like him was capable. If you didn’t know better, you would think he’d pulled out a vibrator. That was how fast he was able to rip your orgasm from its precipice and make you spasm out of control around his cock.

“Shit!” You clenched at the sinful sound of Eddie’s voice in your ear as he unraveled inside of you. “Holy- I’m cumming, baby, fuck-” He continued to thrust into you as he rode out his orgasm, murmuring into your neck, “...mine. Fucking mine…”

Your eyes stared unblinking at the moon as you clenched around Eddie’s throbbing dick, mind beginning to flood with post-sex clarity as soon as your orgasm began to calm. Your chest felt like it was clawing at your heart, trying desperately to rip out the offending organ for overtaking the control that your brain was supposed to have had this entire time. Your instincts had tried- god, they’d fucking tried- to tell you not to trust the demon inside you, and yet here you were. Pinned to your own bed with his seed dripping from the most intimate parts of you, and you’d fucking invited him in. 

How much of your attraction to him had been you, and how much had been him? You’d asked him so many questions this very night about his powers, what he was capable of- and he’d glossed over a very important piece of information by omitting the fact that he could make appearances in your fucking dreams. 

Before you could even voice even one of the questions that swirled around in your head, Eddie’s eyes were hovering over yours, the moonlight dancing in a ghostly halo along his silhouette. 

“Listen to me, Slayer.”

His eyes were pitch black, and you found yourself missing the brilliant ruby red they’d shone in your dream. Maybe that’s all tonight was? Just a horrible dream, and the one person you’d considered a friend in this godforsaken town was still someone you could trust. 

“I’m going to get you cleaned up, you’re going to get under these covers, and then you’re going to go to sleep.” You heard him take a breath; felt his shaking exhale on your face. “When you wake up in the morning, you’ll forget everything that happened since I walked through that door.”

You blinked, listening intently. Obediently.

“I walked you home, said goodnight at the door, and left. Then you went inside, locked your door, and went to bed. Repeat it back to me.”

“You walked me home, said goodnight at the door, and left.” Your lips moved seamlessly of their own accord, parroting his own story back to him as you stared into those bottomless black eyes. “Then I went inside, locked the door, and went to bed.”

Eddie stared at you a moment, and there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. It suddenly dawned on you that his eyes weren’t normally black or red. They were brown. You missed how pretty those brown eyes were. They were sweet; honest. Trustworthy eyes.

Finally moving after a few seconds of watching you intently, searching your face for something he evidently couldn’t find, he leaned forward and tenderly kissed your forehead.

“Good.” he whispered, low and tired. “That’s good, sweetheart.”

The night played out exactly as Eddie said it would. He cleaned you up, taking the time to make sure he’d kissed every nick he’d made in your skin until there wasn’t a wound in sight. He watched silently as you cleaned your face, donned a soft shirt so large it reached mid-thigh, and slid under your covers. Eddie kissed you softly before wordlessly locking your doorknob from the inside and exited your apartment. You heard him double check the lock and leave once he was satisfied with your safety. 

Then you fell asleep.

Eddie had only dreamwalked a few times before he’d realized that his newfound vampirism gave him the power to manipulate the dreams that he’d recently gained the ability to stumble into.

It had started when he’d heard Wayne sleeping restlessly in the living room of their trailer, tossing and turning on the couch with his forehead pinched with worry. Eddie had wanted so badly to ease his pain, and before he knew it he was watching his uncle’s nightmare playing out around him like he’d stepped onto the set of a film. He’d seen his own gravestone, seen Wayne tearing at the dirt until his fingers bled, and wanted nothing more than to alleviate his uncle’s pain- that yearning on his part had evidently been enough to cause the scene to shift in his favor. The grave had sunken into the ground, the sky changed from stormy gray to sunny blue, and the bed of dirt had become a gingham blanket, upon which sat a significantly happier Wayne and a sticky-fingered Eddie at age four holding a PB&J that was oozing out the sides.

It was at this moment that Eddie had started thinking that maybe these powers he’d gained might not be all bad.

He hadn’t realized he had the ability to manipulate memories until the first time Gareth had lost control and killed that girl from U.S. History.

She’d asked Gareth to meet her behind the bleachers after school, and Eddie had told him not to go, told him not to risk it, but Gareth was so fucking stubborn. The girl was cute, and the idiot had thought he could handle it. By the time Eddie had realized Gareth had ignored his warnings, it was too late.

Eddie had been so close to cleaning everything up seamlessly, and then some cheerleader had to go and stumble upon Gareth, Eddie, and the bloodless corpse of that poor girl. Eddie’s instincts had taken over, and before he knew it he’d grabbed the cheerleader by the shoulders and used every ounce of willpower he could muster to convince her that she hadn’t seen them at all, and in fact what she had actually seen was U.S. History girl walking into the woods behind the school. 

It had been a desperate, kneejerk reaction, and Eddie had had next to no confidence it would work, but the next day he’d been amazed to hear that exact story being repeated through the rumor mill word for word. It gave Eddie and Gareth the cover they’d needed to take the girl’s body to the Upside Down and hide it where no one would think to look. 

His abilities were handy tricks to have, sure… but it scared him. Eddie didn’t like that every new power he discovered within himself gave him a new way to get away with something awful. Eddie didn’t trust himself enough for that knowledge to sit well with him. 

Now, he sat in the cafeteria at his usual table with Gareth, eyes sweeping the room for your face. He hadn’t seen you in the halls yet today, and even though he had every reason to be confident that you wouldn’t remember last night, he’d never tried to erase memories from a Slayer before. Maybe you had some sort of mental defenses against him? Maybe you were already waiting at his trailer, stake in hand? The unknown of it all was stressing Eddie out. 

That’s what he was feeling- stress. Not guilt. Eddie had hardened his undead heart enough that he didn’t feel guilty for things like this anymore. If he had been completely honest about his powers at Benny’s, there’s no way you would have trusted him after that. After being an active player in your wet dream without your consent?  He didn't know many people who wouldn’t hate his guts after that- hell, he hated his own guts after that. He was a horny creep who’d violated you in more ways than one, and there was no way anyone could forgive him for that. Why should you?

He could have been honest about his memory manipulating abilities, but the idea of giving that secret away had simply scared him too much. It was easier to keep that in his back pocket, and wasn’t that what you always had against him, after all? A wooden stake, always ready and waiting as a last resort. A failsafe. 

No. Eddie didn’t feel guilty. For the sake of his own self-preservation, he couldn’t. 

As if on cue, Eddie perked up when he saw you enter the cafeteria. Act casual, he reminded himself. He couldn’t act like anything was out of the ordinary, but at the same time he needed to be sure you remembered nothing. Then he could move on, not feel as… stressed. 

He watched you discreetly, looking up from his crumpled bag of pretzels every twenty seconds or so to check if you were looking at him. You sat at your normal table on the opposite side of the room, pulling a sandwich from your bag and quietly began to eat your lunch. You didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned with where Eddie was, much less whether or not he was looking at you. 

Suddenly, as if you could feel his gaze on you, your eyes flicked up and locked with his. For a split second, Eddie’s confidence in his powers faltered- maybe his powers were useless against you; maybe you remembered last night in all its shameful glory. The jig is up, he thought, I’m caught. Let justice be served.

But all you did was smile at him and give a little wave before turning back to your sandwich. 

Eddie felt a nudge at his elbow from Gareth. “You good, man?” the floppy haired boy glanced in your direction, raising an eyebrow in question. 

You didn’t remember. Eddie should be relieved… he’d successfully befriended, seduced, and fooled The Slayer. This was a good thing. 

“Yeah,” he huffed, reassuring Gareth with a curt nod. “I’m good.”

Good. Such a relative term. So many definitions for the word good, and yet not a single one would make ‘I’m good’ anything but a lie when it came from Eddie’s mouth. 

He ran his tongue over one of his sharpened canines, pressing it into the tip hard enough to break skin. The taste of your blood that still lingered in his veins flooded his mouth for a split second before the puncture healed itself, and he closed his eyes to savor you for a moment. 

No; Eddie Munson wasn’t good. He hadn’t been good for a very long time. 

Taglist (just some people I think will be interested, as well as those who I've spoken to about this story during the MONTHS it took to finally finish): @the-unforgivenn, @vintagehellfire, @munson-blurbs, @littlesubbyflower, @msgexymunson, @hellfire--cult, @word-wytch, @carolmunson, @bettyfrommars

[capt-mactavish]

POW Pt. 3

Summary: Male reader whose part of the 141 gets captured during a mission and team rallies to rescue them.

Pt. 3/3

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

Rescue

The tension in the air is palpable as you and Ghost struggle for control. Ghost’s grip on your wrist is unyielding, but your desperation fuels your strength. Your movements are wild, erratic, and driven by a primal rage that blinds you to everything except the need to fight and survive. 

Soap, beneath you, manages to plant his feet on your chest and shove upwards. His action pries you and Ghost apart, and the knife in your hand is wrenched free of your grip, flying away and skittering across the floor. Reacting quickly, Soap rolls to his feet and grabs you from behind, locking his arms together around your front and pinning yours to your side. 

“(Y/N), stop, it’s us! Ghost and Soap!” Soap hissed through gritted teeth as you struggled in his hold. “We’re here to rescue ye.” Your eyes are wide, unseeing, and you fight against him with a strength that catches them both off guard. It’s as if something deep within you has been triggered, and you’re acting purely on instinct. “(Y/C/S)!” Ghost bellows, his voice authoritative, hoping to jar you back to reality. “Stand down!” he commands, taking a cautious step closer. 

You snarl, and lash out at the approaching figure, landing a kick to his midsection. Ghost lets out a grunt but effortlessly catches your boot in his hands. However, With a surge of strength, you use the leverage from Ghost's hold on you to bring your other leg up, landing a powerful kick squarely on his masked face. The impact sends Ghost stumbling away from you, clutching at his face, caught off guard by the blow. The momentum has you and Soap tumbling backwards, and as you crash to the ground, Soap’s hold on you breaks, and the air is knocked out of his lungs as the two of you are sent sprawling on the floor. Momentarily disoriented, you struggle to regain your bearings, rolling out of Soap’s slackened grip and stumbling to your feet. You watch as the masked figure turns back to face you, and your breath hitches at the sight of a large crack now adorning the skull that covers his face, splitting it nearly in half. Something about the sight tugs at a deeper part of you, a sense of guilt gnawing at your subconscious. 

For a moment you and Ghost lock eyes, your breaths are heavy and labored. It’s in that fleeting connection that Ghost sees something flicker in your gaze, a hint of recognition buried beneath the frenzy. His heart skips a beat as he realizes that you might be coming back to yourself. 

Soap recovers quickly, taking advantage of your momentary distraction as he scrambles to his feet. He lunges forward, tackling you around the waist and driving you both to the ground again. You wrestle with the Scot, each trying to gain the upper hand, but he’s determined to subdue you, to bring you back from wherever your mind has taken you. 

In the fray you manage to bash the back of your head into Soap’s face, and he lets go of you with a pained groan, his hands instinctively coming up to his now bleeding nose. You plant your hands on the floor beneath you, and are about to throw him off, but Ghost moves quickly, coming in beside him and grabbing your arms, pinning them behind your back as Soap tries to keep you from thrashing. 

With both of them working together, they’re able to overpower you, your strength waning as your already battered body starts to tire. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, and as the haze of your rage lifts, the reality of the situation settles around you. 

“(Y/N),” Ghost says, his voice softer than before, but still firm, laced with relief and concern as he feels your body beginning to relax under his grip. 

The fight leaves your body as if a switch had been flipped. Your remaining strength drains from you, and you sag against the floor as tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes as recognition finally floods your senses.

It’s really them. They’re really here. They really came for you. “Y-Yes, sir,” comes your voice eventually, hoarse and gravelly.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Soap mutters in relief, his own muscles relaxing, slumping a little, but still holding on. 

“You back with us?” Ghost ventures further, his fingers slowly loosening their grip on your wrists. 

You swallow thickly, “Yes, sir.” Ghost radios the rest of the team, then nods to Soap who stands up before helping the Lieutenant haul you off the ground. You stumble and sway, knees threatening to give out, But Soap pulls you against him, putting your arm around his neck and helping you stand. 

“Easy, lad,” he speaks to you softly as you lean heavy on him. “I’m sorry,” You choke out. “I… I…” “We know,” Soap says, his tone low and comforting. “Dinnae you worry.” “It’s good to have you back, (Y/N),” Ghost says, his voice ever calm and even, but tinged with a hint of relief. 

Your limbs start to feel heavy, as if they’re made of lead, and the last thing you see is Ghost’s eyes widen just a fraction as consciousness slips away from you.

---

You awake suddenly to hands on you.

Just like before.

Pushing, shoving, pressing and holding you down.

Had it all been a dream?  

Thrashing violently, your body jolts into action as your instincts take over. 

You’re vaguely aware that there are blurred figures looming over you as you lie flat on your back. Their hands burn your skin, and panic rises in your chest. 

Without a second thought you begin to swing at them with every ounce of energy you have left. One blow connects, and there’s a grunt of surprise as your knuckles make contact with flesh before you hear something hit the ground. 

“We need to sedate him!” Someone shouts. “Hold him down!” 

Suddenly strong hands clamp onto your arms, restraining your movement. Panic surges anew, your heart racing as the fight against your captors intensifies. “(Y/N),” you hear someone say firmly, and you still immediately, the voice provoking a sense of recognition and trust. 

“You’re alright. You’re safe,” they assure you, and your muscles begin to relax, soothed by the familiar baritone of the voice. 

Suddenly something pierces your skin, and almost immediately a calming numbness spreads throughout your body. Your limbs grow heavy, and any residual tension melts away as your body slacks against whatever you’re lying on. 

As the sedative lulls your senses and the darkness encroaches, you catch a glimpse of concerned faces hovering over you. The frantic energy in the room seems to dissipate, replaced by a hushed sense of urgency as you succumb to unconsciousness once again. 

Ghost steps back with a heavy sigh, retreating to the far end of the room as the medics continue their work. Soap and Gaz pass by in front of him, escorting the doctor you had knocked onto the floor out of the room, but Ghost’s gaze remains fixed on you.

Exhaustion seeps into every fiber of his being, a weariness that goes beyond the physical. Seeing his teammate in such a state, so lost and tormented, fighting for his life from what he thought were his captors, had pained him to watch. 

What nightmares had you endured? What trauma had driven you to lash out so violently, to forget yourself in such a way and act purely on instinct? 

Ghost’s eyes never falter, beneath his mask his expression was awash with guilt. He should have reached you sooner, found you faster. He never should have let this happen in the first place. 

He’s vaguely aware that someone is speaking to him, then he feels a warm hand on his shoulder, and he turns his head to see Soap at his side. “Let’s leave them to it, L.T.,” Soap says to him softly, his eyes conveying a sense of reassurance that has him turning to face Soap completely. “He’ll be alright.”

---

Your senses awaken gradually, and the first thing you register is the steady beeping of medical equipment and the sterile scent of antiseptic. The room is bright, and you blink back the harsh light shining down on you before you become aware of someone sitting in a chair beside what you presumed to be your hospital bed. 

As you begin to sir, Captain Price looks your way, and a warm smile graces his features as his eyes meet yours. “Good to see you awake, (Y/N),” he greets, his voice a comforting presence. 

“Captain…” you rasp, managing a weak smile. 

He nods in response. “You’re back,” he says. “You’re safe.”

The door to the room opens and more familiar faces flood in. Gaz rushes to your side immediately, his smile a beacon of warmth, clutching your hand in his. 

“(Y/N)!” he cries, pressing his forehead against yours affectionately. Then he pulls away and levels you with a glare, despite the tears in his eyes. “Don’t you ever pull something like that again! When we go, we go together, from now on!” You smile and try to chuckle, but it turns into a coughing fit that has Gaz’s eyes welling with concern. You wave him off and compose yourself before replying, your voice still weak but gaining strength, “Affirmative, we go together, from now on.” 

“It’s good to finally see you awake,” Soap says, standing just behind Gaz. Your eyes meet his and immediately you were flooded with guilt at the sight of dark bruising across the bridge of his nose. It stirs memories of your captivity, fragments of your struggle to escape and the clash with your teammates. Your smile falters. 

“Fuck, Soap, did… did I do that? I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice soft with remorse.

Soap’s reassuring smile is quick to follow. “Go’ me good, ye did. But dinnae you worry about it.”

Before you can apologize again, he adds, “Besides, I go’ off easy. Ghost go’ the worst of it.”

Soap jabs his thumb over his shoulder and your eyes follow, gaze shifting to the dark figure leaning against the far wall. Your chest tightens when you take in his masked face, noticing the jagged crack running down the usually smooth surface of the skull.

Soap lets out a wry chuckle, “I think ye gave him quite the shiner under there.”

You push yourself up a little straighter, swallowing thickly and offering Ghost an apologetic look. “Sir, I-” Ghost holds up a hand, halting your words. “No hard feelings, (Y/C/S), you weren’t yourself,” he says in his usual, gruff voice. You can sense the understanding in his presence, even without seeing his expression, and the weight of your guilt begins to lift. 

Soap’s hand on your shoulder draws your gaze back to him, his grip steady and reassuring, and the smile he offers you is warm and comforting. 

Price clears his throat, shifting the focus to more pressing matters. “When you’re ready, (Y/N), I need to know what happened. Everything you can remember.” 

Your heart skips a beat at the thought of having to relive those memories, and the fear must have found its way to your face because Gaz squeezes your hand reassuringly. 

“Take your time, (Y/N),” he says. “We’re here with you.” It’s a struggle to find the words at first, to try and recall details about your captivity when all you wanted to do was forget. But with the support of your team, you gather your courage and begin to recount what you can remember.

The room fell silent as you finished speaking, the weight of your words handing in the air like a heavy cloud. But then, as if to dispel the darkness that had settled, Gaz squeezed your hand again gently, his eyes brimming with empathy.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Price spoke up, his eyes conveying understanding and his presence a steadfast source of strength. “But you’re back now, and we’re here for you.”

In that moment, under the encouraging gazes of your brothers in arms, you felt enveloped by a sense of belonging, a reminder that you are not alone in this battle, and your teammates were there with you, ready to help you fight.

---

This was a long time coming I know, and at times I considered just abandoning this unfinished. But today I felt some inspiration and some determination to finally finish it! Hope you enjoyed reading! Thanks for all the kind words!

Those asked to be tagged: @neon-lights-27 @jasperthechaosgremlin @@dominos-palast @c0nny3917 @1ntefly @soupinasock @itsvlynne @cumbermovels @mysticalzombiecheesecake @katsukiarchives @cptg00s3 @peter-the-pan

also, you didn't ask to be tagged, but I figured you might like to be @patrickbatemanismybabygirl

[thunderblessedhero]

(( Warning for possibly upsetting content. Themes of violence and major character death are present in this. ))

———

[Attached: A live video feed. Gizmo is following Hugh, August, and their Lucario “Fenrir” from behind as they rush through an ice-covered Opelucid City, carefully navigating over the frozen over roads and sidewalks as quickly as can. You can see evacuating crowds rushing and slipping past them as the young trainers bolt into the fray, their panicked shouts and screams echoing through the audio.

“Those Plasma assholes-” Hugh curses under his breath, panting a bit as he runs. “I never expected them to go this far…” He motions back at his friend, urging them to keep up. “Come on, we get the DNA Splicers back from those ninja guys! We aren’t letting them get away with this!”

“Right!” August shouts back, continuing to trail behind their friend. They look to the Lucario running beside them and nods, initiating a wordless communication between them and the Pokémon. He seems to understand right away, returning the gesture affirmatively.

Fenrir then turns on his heel and veers off to the side, before bouncing up a tower of jagged ice with ease. He reaches the top in a matter of seconds, and his eyes begin to scan the chaos raging around him from his vantage point- as he does, you catch a glimpse of the massive, levitating frigate looming threateningly in the skies over the city.

August and Hugh swerve to follow after him, but they stop at the sound of loud beeping noises coming from the phone behind them. They both simultaneously turn to look to the camera, raising a brow at the Rotom phone as it begins to shake and twitch.

“Gizmo? What wrong?” August asks, extending a hand out to the little Electric-type in concern.

“ZZz-zzzZZT-zzzt— zzt-” Gizmo’s inexplicable buzzing gets louder, before the screen fades to static, intercepting the feed. It stays that way for a few seconds longer… before the scene abruptly changes.

There’s an older man with white hair and a tall cap, standing in front of an iron wall. He wears a massive purple cloak that looks like it was designed to withstand harsh low temperatures, with a blatant Team Plasma logo plastered on the front.

“Greetings, people of Unova.” The man addresses the audience in a dark tone, one that would spur unease within you. “My name is Zinzolin- a sage representing Team Plasma and my lord, Ghetsis.”

He continues, speaking to the camera with a blank, firm expression. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why this broadcast has suddenly reached your device- or perhaps you’re more focused crisis currently unfolding in Opelucid City. Either way, I’m here today to issue out a warning to all of Unova- so listen to my words, and listen to them well.”

“We may be taking our leave now, but know this- the attack on Opelucid was only the beginning,” he warns. “Soon enough, all the region will be shrouded in ice, and Lord Ghetsis will then take his rightful place as Unova’s ruler! Soon enough, when his plan falls into place, you will have no choice but to yield to him!”

“And before you think your little hero of truth is going to come to your rescue once more, like they did two years ago during our previous attempt to seize power…” Zinzolin smirks menacingly as he holds up what appears to be a remote control. “I regret to inform you that Reshiram and its trainer will not be coming to your aid this time. Nor will Zekrom- she and her hero abandoned you all a long time ago.”

“Don’t believe me?” He snickers. “See for yourself. In case my speech wasn’t enough to sway you, our generous leader has gone ahead and provided a little… presentation of sorts, to remind you we are not to be trifled with.”

He presses down on the controller, and in the blink of an eye, the screen switches again. Now, a pitch dark room is shown- you can just barely see the line where the floor and wall meet. Everything is deadly silent for a moment longer, before you begin to hear what sounds like shouts and metal clanging in the background, growing closer…

A door offscreen opens up, filling the room with light for the briefest of moments- just long enough for you to see a figure get harshly thrown into the dank holding cell, before the door is promptly slammed back shut. Your blood runs cold when you’re met with a face likely many Unovans know- the hero of Reshiram… their hands are tied behind their back, and a piece of black tape is pasted firmly over their mouth.

Blake’s hat tumbles off their head as their back slams against the cold wall, a muffled cry erupting from their throat before they slide pitifully onto the ground. They’re alive, but they writhe around and recoil like they’re in excruciating pain… You don’t want to imagine what they must’ve gone through before all of this. Or whatever they’re about to endure.

“Let this be a lesson to all who dares try and oppose the might of Team Plasma,” Zinzolin’s voice can be heard booming from a nearby speaker. “Watch as the very trainer who once saved your pathetic lives is reduced to nothing but ashes, and know that you will all suffer the same fate if you try to revolt!”

A red flash fills the room, and once it fades away you hear a haunting, reverberating growl… Trembling, Blake tilts their head up, pure dread overcoming their expression as they meet the face of whatever’s about to be their end. You see the shadow of a Hydreigon looming on the wall behind them, slowly growing as the beast closes in on its prey…

Blake begins crying out desperately, helplessly flailing and kicking against their restraints, like a beetle turned over on its shell. Although their legs are untied, they seem unable to manage standing, incapable of running away as the creature prowls closer.

In the last few seconds of the video, you see the white glow of a charging Hyper Beam illuminate the room. And all that Blake can do is stare into the light, eyes bulged with horror. You catch a tear pricking through the corner of their eye right before the attack is unleashed.

A blinding, white hot light swallows the camera. You can barely hear Blake scream out one last time before it’s drowned out by a deafening explosion.

…The video feed cuts out. You didn’t get to see the aftermath, but… it’s not hard to guess what happened next.]

———

[madewithlove-sophie]

Beneath the Surface (Teaser ii.) | Aizawa Shota Fan Fiction

Twisted Hearts Series | Prev

Y/N stared down at her hands, feeling the vibrations of every atom around her. Her quirk was second nature, sensing the subtle shifts in the ground, the hum of energy in the air, and the faint echoes of movement nearby. But exhaustion weighed on her—she had been pushing herself for hours, the mission dragging on far longer than expected.

It was supposed to be a straightforward operation: subdue the villains, secure the area. But things had spiraled out of control, and now their team was scattered, worn thin, and Y/N could feel the weight of her limits pressing down.

"Five more closing in," she muttered, clenching her fists as she tuned into the vibrations around them. The villains were regrouping, drawing closer. Her arms ached, every movement sending sharp jolts of pain through her body, but she couldn’t stop. Not now.

Beside her, Shota Aizawa—Eraserhead—stood quietly, his eyes flickering between the alleyways ahead, his usually calm demeanor touched with weariness. His scarf was frayed, and he had a cut running down the side of his face, but his focus was unwavering.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, sensing the strain she was under.

“If it’s too much, we can push back,” he said, his voice low but steady. There was no judgment, just quiet understanding. He had seen it—how her hands had started shaking, how she’d been holding herself together for too long. "We’ll regroup."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his tone. Her eyes flickered toward him, her breath shaky, but she shook her head. “No. We’re close… I can keep going.”

The truth was, her body was screaming for a break. Every time she used her quirk, the pressure on her arms grew, each movement amplifying the pain. She didn’t need Aizawa’s quirk to erase her abilities; her body was starting to do that on its own.

Aizawa studied her for a moment, his tired eyes sharper than usual. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, the tension of the mission wrapping around them both. He could see through her calm facade—see the weight she carried.

"We don’t need to prove anything to anyone," Aizawa said quietly. "If you’re hurt, we pull back. That’s the priority."

Y/N clenched her jaw. His concern, though practical, struck deeper than she expected. He was offering her a way out, a reprieve, but she couldn’t afford to stop. Not now. She had been discarded once, left to fend for herself, and she wouldn’t let herself be seen as weak again—not by him, not by anyone.

“I’m fine,” she lied, forcing herself to stand straighter, the pain in her arms throbbing. “Let’s finish this.”

Aizawa didn’t press her further, but his gaze lingered, as if he could sense more than just the exhaustion. He gave a subtle nod, acknowledging her choice, though she knew he wasn’t convinced.

With a flick of his scarf, he stepped forward into the shadows, ready for whatever came next. Y/N followed closely, her hands trembling despite her best efforts to steady them. The vibrations of the approaching villains grew louder, and she braced herself, knowing that this battle wasn’t just against them—it was against her own limits.

And Aizawa, as always, would be watching, waiting to step in when things got too close to breaking.

[plainshobbit]

@inklings-challenge

So I do actually have this bit typed up, at least. More to come.

Genre is Time Travel but set in Secondary World to blend the feel and societal norms of days past with medical technology of today. Coma care has made many improvements. Will be dealing with some difficult thematic elements. You have been warned. Themes of grief and loss -- among other things. Actually, mostly other things in this particular installment. Other other things to come in future installments. Look. This thing went where this thing went and I wasn't entirely in control.

Time to Heal

Inklings Challenge 2023 Team Tolkien: Time Travel

War is a ravenous beast blindly consuming lives as it rages across the land. 

It had taken my fiancés before we had formally announced our engagement – and before I could tell him I carried his child.

I had known for a couple months but had told no one. 

Then the notice came. 

He had no family of his own and had put me down as next of kin with the war office.

Killed in Action. 

Another soul sacrificed to the insatiable beast.

Now it has taken my family and our home.

Eighteen years of age without home or family. Pregnant and unwed.

I was unconscious when they pulled me from the rubble. They quickly discovered my “condition” while treating my wounds.

Keeping the secret to myself was no longer an option. 

The second morning after a stray mortar shell blasted away my past life, I find myself sitting across a table from a man who cannot be more than thirty. Twenty-five he says. The war has added a few years then. A bandage covers his right eye and scars only recently healed cover much of his face. He is one of medical officers stationed at the base were I have been brought for treatment.

He is asking about the father of my child.

I struggle through the answer, emotions dangerously near the surface as I tell him the division my fiancé served under. It is well known that division was completely decimated in a particularly bloody battle.

My grief breaks through and I succumb to sobs I can no longer hold at bay.

He offers me his handkerchief. Patiently waits.

Once I have recovered myself, I sit there numbly. His now sodden handkerchief lying limp in my hands.

“What is this all about, sir?” I pull at the frayed edge of the bandage on my arm. 

Somehow I sustained relatively minimal injuries in the blast. My body feels like one giant bruise - and I supposed I look it, too. Dozens of tiny scrapes and cuts burn and itch across my skin. I have one rather large wound on my arm that the medical staff are working hard to keep from getting infected. 

The man gazes out the window as if he is looking for something – some source of guidance – searching for the words to use next.

“Circumstances have left you in a difficult position,” he began, “I wish it could be different, but many in society will not be kind or understanding to a young mother on her own.”

“The war has left many a woman to raise children on her own,” I point out.

He nods in agreement. “That is true. But it is a difficult path for anyone to take alone. Even if they have other family to assist them.”

“And I have no one to help me,” I admit before adding bitterly, “to say nothing of the shame society would attach to the – impropriety of the circumstances surrounding the conception of my child.” My hands stray involuntarily to my abdomen.

He remains graciously silent.

“We may have done things a little out of order, but,” I flash him a defiant look, “I refuse to be ashamed of my child.”

 I stare him down. Daring him to argue.

But he doesn’t argue at all. His face softens into an understanding smile, “Quite right,” he says. “Every life is a precious gift to be cherished.”

Stunned into silence by this unexpected response, I begin to worry the edge of my bandage once more.

“My proposal, in short, is just that,” he continued, “a proposal of marriage. If you agree to the arrangement, I would marry you legally and adopt the child as my own.”

My hands still as I process this new information. This man I have only just met is asking me to marry him.

“I want to be clear,” here he pauses and once more seems unsure of himself as he thought through how to word what came next. “I would require nothing of you. I simply offer the shelter of my name and a fresh start.”

I look at him incredulously. “A fresh start? I may have a few months yet, but this child is coming soon enough that we will not be fooling anyone. Even if they have not yet heard about me and the baby from the local gossips.”

“Well, then, I suppose it is a good thing we will not be here. My superiors have decided that they would rather have me serve further inland – away from the front – at the central military hospital. They say my skills are too valuable to lose.” He indicates his bandaged eye. “I guess they are afraid I will go and get myself blown up again.” His eye goes wide. “Oh! I am sorry if that last bit was insensitive. I am afraid I have developed a rather dark sense of humor as a combat medic.”

I chuckle with a wry smile. “I assure you, no offence was taken.” I add somberly, “I don’t think anyone can live this close to war and bloodshed and not have it darken some part if you. Better it darken your humor than your heart." 

“Right you are again,” he says. His voice is soft and sad, but full of something else I cannot (or dare not) name. I glace up and his eye is full of the same nameless something. My pride calls it “pity” and inwardly recoils. My face grows hot and I take renewed interest in my fraying bandage.

“Does your bandage bother you?” “

“No. I – well – it does itch a bit,” I clumsily explain.

“May I?” He offers to take a look and after I hold out my arm for him to examine, he goes to a supply cabinet on the wall. The young doctor takes out a few items and returns to the table.

I study him as he works. Is he truly as kind and benevolent as he appears? Can he be trusted?

The single brown eye is focused intently on his task. I search for any deception that may lie within its depths. I see none.

After he has finished with my bandage, he gets up to put away the supplies. He pauses at the open cabinet contemplating his next words. “I do not want you to feel forced into something you do not want.” He places the items back in the cabinet and shuts it. “I want to help you and your child, and I have the means to do so. As far as I am concerned, it does not have to be through marriage. I would gladly provide for you to establish you and your child anywhere you wish.” He turns and looks me in the eye and says firmly, “You would be under no obligation to me whatsoever.” I find I do not doubt his sincerity.  

He leaves me to ponder my decision. Marriage seems final and a little terrifying. However, as kindly as he meant the second offer – I know society at large would infer other things from the arrangement. I weigh my options throughout the day.

Marriage to a man I barely know, but who seems kind.

Provided for, but society will be convinced we are his mistress and child quietly set aside.

Unwed mother with no prospects or property with which to care for her child.

I get little sleep that night as scenarios run endlessly through my mind. Nonetheless, by morning I have made my decision.  

After sending a nurse to find him, I wait in the room from the previous day. The young doctor arrives shortly. He greets me and voices his hope that I had a restful night. I graciously smile at him and offer no comment on how my night passed. I inform him that I have made my decision.

He simply nods and turns to look out the window, “And what have you chosen?”

I take a deep breath and time seems to slow to a stop.

“I accept your proposal of marriage.”

The passage of time swiftly returns at a dizzying speed.

The remainder of the day is spent working out details. My husband-to-be takes on the responsibility of ensuring all the legal paperwork is properly drafted up. He will need to find an officer qualified to perform the formalities as well.

The female staff and a few patients make preparing me for my impromptu wedding their personal project. Someone finds a simple, but attractive sky blue dress that fits nearly perfectly. One of the patients fixes my hair with delicate hands. A nurse tends to my face and attempts to make the bruises and wounds less noticeable. I am in a daze through it all.  

We are married in a small courtyard at sunset in a swirl of leaves that match the colors of the autumn sky. 

Among those present to witness the event is an elderly gentleman who makes frequent appearances at the hospital. Visiting with the patients and offering encouragement, he reads to them stories of the One from the Book he always carries. 

The old man gifts us with a pocket watch. It is a beautiful thing intricately carved. He places the watch in our joined hands -- my husband's and mine -- covering them with his own saying, "May the time you are given together be blessed and a blessing." 

In spite of the unconventional circumstances, my heart is strangely warmed by the sincerity of his gift and blessing to us.

I spend my wedding night alone in the military field hospital’s care.

Tomorrow I begin the journey to my new home.

To be continued . . .

[theoldaeroplane]

transfiguration's going to come for me at last

uh here is a big chunk of Fray's backstory. i'm mostly posting this to share with my ttrpg group but. you can read it too. 5.5k words, cw for violence and Bad Times

---

Fray tries not to think about the last time he saw Zion, but most of the time he can't help it. It just overcomes him, so warm and inviting he cannot help but fall into the memory.

It is bright and crisp at Charn's boundaries, and she has come to see him and the rest of Gyr Warden off, like she always does. Fray is in high spirits, pleased as always to be serving Charn, to be serving Zion by serving Charn. Her broad hands cup his jaw and she bows her head over his, her scruffy strawberry blond hair falling into her eyes: one brown, the other the same gleaming gold as his own, the hexagonal pupil betraying its artificiality. She looks at him like she is peeling him apart. She always looks at him like that, like she can see something in him no one else can. She did even before she lost the eye. "You come back to me in one piece," she tells him. "See to it."

"We always do," Fray signs back with a teasing smile.

"You had better," she murmurs, and bites her lip. "I don't know, doll. Got a bad feeling about this one."

Fray might have brushed anyone else off. Not Zion. "It'll be well with us," he assures her. "Best warden team in Charn, right?"

"Hmm," says Zion, and reaches up to pull out one of the clips she always wears to keep her permanent cowlick under control. It's thin, flexible metal, a small star shape affixed to one end and painted blue. "You wear confidence well," she tells him, and uses the clip to gather his bangs out of his eyes. He touches it as she does, feeling the warmth of being cared for bubble up in him. "But you'd best promise me anyway."

"I promise," Fray tells her, and rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

---

Gyr Warden, the best Luminary team Charn has ever produced. Gyr Warden, the ones dispatched when threats to Charn's noble purpose arise. Gyr Warden, the ultimate strike force, the keepers of the peace, the sword and shield raised against the everlasting threat of the apocalypse.

Gyr Warden, bested by a pit.

It was a covered pit, of course, sheltered under the remains of some great building so the snow would not weigh its disguising sheets of rusted metal and repurposed tarps down too much. It had been rigged to collapse in on itself only with enough weight. Four persons' worth, or thereabouts. Fray can still remember the sickening way the floor gave out from under him, the buckling and screeching of metal scraping together, how the world spun. One moment he had been focused on their surroundings, in search of the escaped targets Proxy reported sighting amid these ruined machines and buildings, and who she had gone ahead to scout for. In the next he is falling, falling, falling.

It's luck and his heightened reflexes that keep him from being impaled on the stakes stuck purposefully in the bottom, but mostly luck. He just knocks his skull against the metal floor of the pit and blacks out for a few seconds. He wishes he'd stayed out when Glint and Shrike's agonized screams split his ears. Beyond them, Sworn clutches an obviously broken arm. Basalt and Proxy are nowhere to be seen, until a horrible boom rings out over the shrieking. Basalt's lifeless body comes tumbling into the hole after. He nearly lands on Sworn, who screams a little in shock.

A trap, Fray thinks dimly. A simple, stupid, obvious trap that he should have noticed. Basalt stares at him from across the pit with frozen, staring eyes.

It's luck again, and years of training, that see Fray stay still when he detects movement above. His head is ringing with pain and the wails of his impaled teammates, until another terrifying boom rings out. Shrike goes limp. Whoever is shooting botches putting down Glint. The first shot just destroys her arm and the screaming redoubles, ragged and piercing. There is a scuffle and shouting up above. Sworn is whimpering, shuddering, staring---staring up at where Proxy is shoving her way toward the edge of the pit, through the gathered crowd of figures in tattered gold and jade. They let her push past, too far for Fray to read their expressions. Proxy lunges for the rifleman, bellowing something Fray cannot hear over Glint's screams.

Three of the figures fall on her, and the shooter cracks her across the face with the butt of his rifle. Another of them steps forward and puts a slug into Glint's forehead. The screaming stops. At last, Fray can hear what Proxy is saying:

"Stop! Stop! You said you wouldn't hurt them!"

There's a chorus of scoffing laughter, and despite her hextech, despite her training, Proxy is still overwhelmed when the crowd piles onto her and as one hurls her down into the pit, just yards from Fray. She lands badly, on one of the half-raised pieces of metal that had formed the false floor. The crunch her spine makes as it snaps at the waist echo in his ears long after their assailants walk away.

---

Once the figures leave, Sworn tries to drag themself to Fray. Miraculously unharmed for the most part, Fray rushes to them instead. Proxy lies where she fell, but her ragged puffs of breath into the frozen air betray that she still lives.

In silence he triages Sworn. Their left arm snapped on impact, but snapped cleanly. The livid swelling in their ankle suggests that it fared much worse. They're fine apart from that, other than scrapes and bruises, and the fact they just watched the horrible execution of three of their teammates. Three of their family.

Fray does what little he can for the injuries. He focuses on pulling Sworn out of their mounting panic not only for their sake, but for his, too. Sworn is the youngest. Sworn has rarely been faced with the cruelties that the outside world is capable of. He only relents when Sworn swallows and asks in a splintering voice, "Orders, major?"

Reality starts settling in again. Fray braces himself best he can. "Stay with Proxy," he signs, and does not allow himself to look at her. "I have to ... perform retrieval."

"Acknowledged," Sworn says weakly, and allows Fray to help them hobble to Proxy's side. When they're settled, when Fray has done a silent, mechanical once-over of Proxy---he cannot bring himself to look her in the eye---he picks himself up, and takes stock of their situation.

The pit has sheer metal sides. The walls rise up nearly twenty feet. It seems excessively deep, for a grave. There is nothing that would lend its to an escape, especially not with Sworn's ankle.

He looks around long after he has gathered the information he needs. He's putting off retrieval.

Basalt is nearest. Fray calls a knife to hand out of his hextech and sets about the grim work: pulling the implanted machinery out of his team's bodies, so that it will not fall into enemy hands. Basalt is still warm. His blood crawls sluggishly out of the spots Fray cuts into him.

He hears the conversation begin, behind him.

"You led us into a trap," says Sworn.

"Yes," says Proxy, who never lies.

"You betrayed us. You betrayed Charn."

"Yes," Proxy says.

"What did they tell you? What was worth this?"

Proxy is quiet for a long time before she says, "Does it matter now?"

Fray, listening, supposes it doesn't. Sworn falls silent, and then begins to cry.

Body by body, Fray excises hextech from his brethren's flesh. He pulls stabilizers and hard light generators from limbs, and goes about the delicate work of deactivating the spine stabilizers. The liquid battery inside each one is rigged to explode when tampered with, unless disabled through the addition of another compound in a hidden compartment. He's seen the result of failing to do that, on one of his first field missions, before Gyr Warden. The lieutenant had fallen, and the enemy tried to pull the hexes from her back. The explosion had killed everyone within thirty feet.

He crushes each one into uselessness, scattering their delicate interiors haphazardly around the pit. He even buries some of the pieces. He takes a long time to do it, too long, because when he is finally done there is only one more thing left for him to address.

Proxy lolls her head to one side when he comes to stand over her. She hasn't gotten up. "Major," she says, and tries to lift an arm in a salute. When Fray only stares at her and shakes his head she wheezes; he thinks it might be a try at a laugh. "Fucked this one up, brother."

A dozen things fly through his head. He wants to ask her why, he wants to ask her what was supposed to happen to them, he wants to ask her what he did wrong that she betrayed Gyr, that she betrayed Charn. He wants to scream at her, to shake her, to beat the shit out of her.

Instead he just signs, "You're paralyzed."

"Yeah. Seems so."

"I need you to tell me who those people are."

The way she stares up at him, her face slack in an emotion he cannot decipher, makes his stomach churn. "Just people, Fray," she says softly. "Just people like you and me."

Something in him snaps. He drops to one knee, fisting his hand in the front of her coat and hauling her up by it. Proxy just stares up at him dully, as if waiting for his judgement. "Tell me what just happened," he grinds out, the words fluting and mutating in his throat. It sounds more like tll m wht js happnd.

Proxy is quiet for a long time, looking at him, then past him, at the edge of the pit. "I made a mistake," she says eventually. "I trusted the wrong people. I thought I was too clever to be taken in. Now all of Gyr Warden pays for my arrogance. I throw myself on your mercy, Major."

Fray stares at her. Proxy, his second, his sister-in-arms, Proxy the great-hearted, Proxy the wise and merciful. The one he trusts---trusted---above all but Zion herself. She matches his gaze until he lets go of her shirt, too overwhelmed by the sensation of his heart cracking apart.

---

A day and a night passes. Another follows. Once some of the people in jade and green return. They talk quietly among themselves, casting a careful eye over the three remaining members of Gyr Warden, and then leave. Though he checks and rechecks their cage for means of escape, Fray finds nothing.

At night, he keeps himself from despair by remembering Zion.

Zion stands head and shoulders above Fray (not impressive), could pick him up and throw him (a bit impressive), and is journeyman under the head machinist, overseeing the ancient technology inside the bodies of Fray and the other Luminaries (very impressive). She snores. She ruffles his hair every time she passes him. She is ruddy and precise and gentle and sings to herself when she works with a voice as rich as syrup, and if she told Fray she needed him to kill someone, he would do it without question.

Zion is one of the rare Charnites to have hextech without being a Luminary: the unmistakably false eye in her left socket, provisioned for her after she lost the real one retrieving machinery from the dangerous bunkers that spread warren-like under the city. Zion was the one who stayed with him night after night when his body rejected the first hextech he was given. She was the one who recommended him for the more unregulated, more compatible newer iteration, citing his dedication and skill. His body belongs to Charn, but Zion is the keeper of his heart.

In the frozen nights, where he builds pathetic fires out of the clothing of his dead companions to keep the rest of them from deaths of their own, he thinks about how he promised her he would come back unharmed.

---

"They're waiting for us to starve, I think," Fray signs to Sworn on the third day. "Or grow hungry enough to surrender. But I imagine they would have made their demands already if it were that."

"Why don't they just shoot us?" Sworn says, absently, like they are asking what time it is.

"I don't know."

Sworn is quiet for a long time. "She must, though," they say at last, and does not need to indicate whom he means.

Fray has managed to create a makeshift shelter with the fallen metal. If nothing else it functions as a barrier between them and the sight of the bodies. Fray has moved Basalt and Shrike to the furthest edge, but Glint's blood froze her to the spikes she is impaled upon. He cannot remove her without great effort, and he must conserve his energy to attend to the living.

The shelter was mostly for Proxy, who has lost the use of her legs. She has said nothing since Fray's aborted interrogation, seemingly waiting around to die. Sworn has cursed her out a few times, only stopping when Fray intervened. Honestly, he doesn't have the energy for that, either. A Luminary is better equipped for the deadly weather than your common man, but they starve the same as anyone else, and the rations he pulled from their packs are running low.

They drink snow melted in a crude bowl and set over the tiny fire Sworn's hextech allows them to make. Sworn's foot looks infected, looks like it's dying. Proxy starts refusing her portion of the rations, so Fray makes a disgusting-looking broth of them and force-feeds it to her. Traitor or not, no one else is going to die on his watch. Not while he can help it.

On the fourth day, one of those jade-golds reappears, alone. Fray catches sight of her sitting at the pit's edge with a rifle slung across her lap, watching them intently. Upon realizing she's been noticed, she just raises a hand, like this is a casual greeting. Fray swallows his anger and signs to her. "Who are you?"

She squints at him. "Don't know that hand stuff, champ."

Sworn is in no condition to translate, but they're roused to do so anyway. This is an opportunity too important to let slip. "You don't need to have my name," she says in response to Fray's prior question. "But I know yours. It's Fray, right? Rank of major, to hear Proxy tell it? Do they name all of you after nouns? I suppose that's one way to strip off your humanity."

"Her name is Agrippa," Proxy murmurs. It's the first thing she's said in days. "Agrippa of the Vow."

Fray gives no indication of hearing Proxy. "Then what do you want with us?"

Agrippa of the Vow blinks down slowly at him. "Because I want to watch you suffer," she says. "After everything you've done, all the lives you've ruined, all the innocent people you've slaughtered ... I want to see you down there, with the person who betrayed you. I want you to lose your fingers to the cold. I want you to get so hungry you peel the flesh off your friends' bodies and eat it. I want you to hurt." She leans forward, eyes roaming over them. "And then I'm going to put you down like the dog you are. I'm going to make it take days."

"What's wrong with you?" Sworn cries, leaping to their feet. "We're trying to save this horrible world, from people like you---"

"Sworn," Fray hisses, whirling on them.

"You people don't see it, you don't understand---"

"Sworn!"

"Kiddo, don't do this," says Proxy.

Sworn says, "We only do what we have to," and Agrippa tilts her weapon down. There is the thunder of the weapon and the soft sound of Sworn falling to the snow. Fray lurches toward them, trying to drag them out of her line of fire. They clutch at their stomach, blood foaming past their lips.

"Fucking brainwashed animals, the lot of you," the woman calls down. Her voice drips with disgust. "There, Major. You can eat that one fresh. You're welcome."

---

Sworn passes sometime in early morning. They had ceased whimpering some two hours before, and despite Fray's best efforts he could not keep them conscious.

He puts their body with the others. He retrieves their implants and destroys them, except for the one that creates fire. He spends almost an hour trying to get Glint off the spikes and poles, and in the end simply saws through the metal with his hexblade. His hands are raw and bloody by the end of it, but Glint gets to join the rest of the family. Because that's what they were, or what Fray had always believed Gyr Warden was. A family.

Their bodies won't rot in the cold, and the floor of the pit is ancient steel. But he has Sworn's flame hex, and it is no natural fire. The stench of burning hair and flesh sickens him, and the black smoke that belches up from the pit does away with any hope he might have had of the pyre going unnoticed. Regardless, Agrippa will not see him reduced to cannibalism. He stands in front of the flames for what feels like hours, forcing himself to watch. To remember. Shrike, storyteller, musician, field medic. Glint, trick shooter and master of comedic timing. Veteran and scout, Basalt, who could find his way through any storm. And Sworn, fresh and promising, so clever and passionate.

Gyr Warden, his cohort, his family. His to protect. His to fail.

When he goes back to Proxy and flings himself down beside her, she makes a low, pained sound. "And then there were two."

He does not answer her.

"Fray, I need to tell you something."

He does not answer.

"Luminary-Major First Among Us Into This Fraying World, look at me."

Fray snarls. He obeys, he glares at her, his teeth coming down so hard on his lip that it breaks the cracked skin. His hands shake when he signs. "What?"

Proxy is crying. The tears come slow and languid, freezing to her face before they can slip all the way to the ground. She waits long enough to make sure he's paying attention. "I want to tell you why this happened," she says, voice creaking with the effort, "but I don't think you're ready to understand it."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it took me such a long time to understand it myself that I can't possibly hope to convince you of it with the time I have left."

He wants to tell her she has years left. Even now, even after everything, she is still his family, and part of him will always love her despite it all. He wants to comfort her, to promise her he's going to get them out of here, that he's going to take them home. That they're going to be okay.

He can't.

"Tell me anyway," he signs, slumping against the side of the shelter. "I might as well know."

"You'll kill me for it."

"I wouldn't bother. We're already dead."

"Yeah," Proxy says with a broken laugh, and tells him.

She's right. He doesn't understand.

---

Luminaries stop sleeping like they did in their prior lives. They must still sleep, but they need less of it, and they rouse more readily. This is why it's such a shock when Fray is awakened by something being pulled over his head.

He panics. He thrashes, kicking, throwing elbows, but an uncountable number of hands on him force him to stillness. People are talking around him, saying be careful, get him tied, don't underestimate him because he's small. His arms are jammed behind his back and tied painfully tight. He can hear Proxy's muffled yelling, grim voices, the crunch of many boots on snow. Then he is being raised into the air. Up and up and up, and then down as he's thrown to the ground. The thing over his head is taken away.

The world is black except where it is white with snow or orange with the light of the bonfire that has been built near the pit. Countless figures in ragtag clothing stare down at him; he can't make out details with the way his numb face is pressed into the snow. "Alright!" calls a woman's voice. Fray recognizes it as that of Agrippa. "You all know Lieutenant Proxy," she sneers the title, "as our very own woman on the inside, who in her arrogance thought we would let her little pack of murderers live." There's a series of jeers and snarls. She goes on: "And of course we've got the famous leader of Charn's precious slaughterhouse here today as well!"

Something takes hold of his hair and pulls him up to his knees. The crowd, at least fifty strong and armed to the teeth, explodes into noise and howling. Through his cold-dulled senses, through the lightheadedness of having run out of rations the day before, he hears them as a kind of terrible chorus. Curses, death threats, oaths of vengeance, cries of murderer and baby-killer and monster.

He thinks back to what Proxy said to him, that they are only people, people like Gyr Warden. Only Gyr Warden is---was---nothing like this bloodthirsty, torturous mob. Not for the first time, he mourns Proxy's good nature getting the better of her.

It's Agrippa who has him by the hair, he finds as he looks around for Proxy, and Agrippa has a knife in her other hand. In the half dark, crazed with shadows, it is all but impossible for him to make out anything, but at last he spots the half-limp form of Proxy on Agrippa's other side, her hands tied in front of her. Agrippa is still going off, talking about justice and punishment and whatever other madness she's concocted for herself. A zealot, he thinks with a dull, distant pity. She knows not what she does.

As best he can, he braces himself for what he knows is to come. He has no hope for a quick death from these lunatics, but perhaps they will be kinder to Proxy.

"What shall we do with him, then?" Agrippa asks the crowd. The noise surges back into a fervor. They want his blood. They want his agony.

Strip him and throw him in the fire.

I bet he won't be so dangerous with his eyes gouged out.

Carve up the girl and make him watch.

Not Proxy, he pleads in silence, she was misled, she made a mistake, he would bear a hundred tortures if it meant they would spare her. She is still his scaffolding, his right hand. He still loves her even now. He dares not beg for her safety, not when giving up such a wish would be like dangling meat in front of wolves.

"I know what you really want," Agrippa shouts, yanking Fray's hair high enough that he struggles to his feet to ease the pain. His pulse screams in his ears. "This man's head, yes. But you what you really want is the ones pulling the strings. You want to blot out this disease before it comes for anyone else. You want Charn!"

Cheering.

"And what does Charn have that we don't?"

"Those damned machines," snarls one.

"The old technology," cries another.

"The fucking Luminaries," finishes Agrippa. "And what is a Luminary but a man with metal in his limbs? I say we rip them out of him."

A boon, Fray thinks, half delirious. That will kill him. A mercy. And the hextech will be useless without the serum.

Unfortunately, this is when Agrippa turns her attention back to Proxy. "Okay, Prox," Agrippa says, voice dripping with poison. "Here's your chance to spare yourself some pain. Tell me how the shit inside you freaks works."

Proxy gapes at her. "I don't---I don't know, Agrippa, I told you I don't know!"

Agrippa gives a great, aggravated sigh, and sinks the knife into Fray's shoulder. The guttural shriek that tears its way from his throat is so horrible that at first he does not realize he made it.

"I don't know!" Proxy wails. She pushes herself up on her bound hands. Blood has frozen around a cut on her forehead. "We're just soldiers! We don't get told how it works! Stop hurting him!"

The knife twists. Fray screams, bile crawling up his throat. "We've caught your kind before," Agrippa says patiently, in a different voice than the one she used to whip the crowd into frenzy. "We've tried implanting the technology into our own men. It doesn't take. I need to know how to make it take, Proxy." She pulls the knife out, slow, slow, and the withdrawal is somehow worse than the stab. For a few seconds, the blackness overtakes everything.

When Fray comes to again, the knife is between his lips, threatening to split into his cheek if he moves. "Stop crying," Agrippa is telling Proxy. "You know how to end this."

Proxy's shoulders shake. "You're horrible," she says. "We deserve death for what we've done, but you're no better. I'll tell you. I'll tell you."

How? Fray wants to ask with the last shreds of intelligent thought left to him. She understands the process no better than he does; it's a closely guarded secret for this very reason. Yet he never suspected her part in the trap, either. How long has she been working with Agrippa? What else has she betrayed?

Proxy shakes tears from her face and swallows a sob. "You have to start at the spine," she says. "You can't transfer them unless you crack the power cell. They're coded to the individual."

She's lying. She knows as well as Fray does what happens when the liquid battery cracks. Relief sweeps over him like an avalanche.

He is shoved down to the ground again, his bindings cut and his arms stretched out before him by two men. He shrieks as his stabbed shoulder is yanked forward without heed for his pain. His coat and clothes are sliced open to expose his back. The three stabilizers that burrow against his spine are left open to the freezing air. He seethes his breath in through his teeth against his pounding heart as Agrippa sets her knife against the topmost one and pops the housing off.

He is trembling from cold and tension by the time Proxy walks Agrippa through the last protective layer above the battery. "Now what?" Agrippa is saying, and Fray manages to twist his head enough to find Proxy's face. She has run out of tears, and stares at him. He jerks his chin the slightest amount. Do it.

Proxy takes a deep breath. "There's a cell of liquid," she says. "If you expose the liquid to air, it releases the hexes."

"What a fucking nuisance," Agrippa says, and leans forward. Fray feels it through his spine when she sets the tip of her knife against the glass to crack it.

The failsafe has been primed. Unprivileged modifications of Farlight property is disallowed. Cease and desist, or local override will activate. This will be your only warning.

The words somehow---he doesn't know a better word for it---the words are somehow coming from his bones. He hears them as if they're being spoken directly into his ear, a tinny, buzzy voice, neither male nor female. At first Fray thinks he's hallucinated it, until it comes again when Agrippa's knife bounces off the glass.

Failsafe activated. Local override activated. Tolerance is: zero. God help you.

Several things happen simultaneously. The first is that there is no self-destruction, no ignition. The second is that something surges through his exhausted body. The machinery in his arms and chest and spine blaze with light and heat, and he stares in bewilderment as dozens upon dozens of golden, hard-light hexes appear from nowhere all around him, like a full-body shield. One of the men holding his arms down jerks backwards; the other is not so fortunate. The gleaming hexes burn through his hands like a knife through butter. Behind him he hears Agrippa raise her voice and then cut herself off with a strangled grunt of pain. There's no one on him, Fray realizes, and tries to push himself upright.

He moves, but not in the way he had meant to.

He's drawn stiffly to his feet, the shouting and gunshots muffled compared to the overwhelming hum in his ears. His own skeleton is being operated without him. It draws his sword and moves him puppet-like, jerky and slow, until it isn't, until it's deadly and swift, faster than he's ever moved before. He cuts down man after man with cold efficiency and watches himself do it, watches bullets ricochet harmlessly off the armor. There had been some fifty strong in the crowd when this began. By the time he can stop and draw breath, over half of them lie dead in the snow. Agrippa has vanished.

The thing---the local override---seems satisfied by this. It turns him around and surveys the area, as if checking its work. The only remaining living thing is Proxy, staring at him with wide eyes. She awkwardly shoves herself up with her hands, twisted painfully at the waist. "Major?" she says, and the override notices her.

No, Fray thinks as his body steps toward her. No, you can't, she's not a threat, stop, stop! He tries to work his jaw, his throat, and nothing comes out. He tries to hold himself back, tries to fight it, tries to regain control. It's like trying to hold back a wall of sand with his hands.

"Fray?" Proxy says as he comes to a stop in front of her. "What---what is that? What's going on? How---?"

She doesn't get to finish her question, because despite the way he is screaming at himself to stop, he lifts his arms and brings the sword neatly through her neck.

Nearby, the fire crackles. The hum begins to wane, and he can hear his own labored breathing. Tolerance met, says the voice in his bones. Local override cleared. Thank you.

The armor dissipates. The sword shivers into nothing. Proxy's severed head stares glassily ahead, her jaw half-open.

Fray falls to his knees. He tries to scream, but nothing comes out.

---

There is no more Gyr Warden.

There is no more Luminary-Major First Among Us Into This Fraying World.

There may not even be a Fray anymore.

A storm blows in, the next day. A blizzard. It covers everything: the pit, the bodies, the blood. In the morning, from the place he collapsed next to the fire and into a barely-sheltered crevice of metal, Fray stares out over the pristine white and spends the next hour hoping, hoping, begging, pleading for it all to have been a horrific dream. For his team, his family, to still be alive. He wants Sworn to irritate him with questions and to hear Glint and Shrike argue over rations, with Basalt telling them both to shut the hell up. He wants Proxy to come up behind him and smack him across the back of the head, the way she always does when he's done something stupid.

He waits for a long time.

When this does not happen, he picks himself up and starts walking.

He walks for so much longer. He walks through the empty, meaningless white void and sees nothing, no one. He got a new coat from somewhere and it keeps him from freezing outright. He collapses more than once and each time hopes another blizzard will come and bury him, too. His wish is never granted. He picks himself up again. He starts walking.

He walks and walks and walks.

Until there's a caravan.

The man who runs it is tall and dressed in brilliant orange and black. His gold jewelry shivers and jingles every time he moves. He looks Fray over with keen interest before calling for food and blankets and some hot tea, for God's sake. Fray watches it all happen. He doesn't realize it's happened to him until late into the evening, when the man sidles up next to him and asks him what on earth he was doing wandering the permafrost alone. Fray, who had been staring stupidly at the blue star on the barrette he's just taken out of his hair, just redirects his hollow gaze to the caravan owner. The man takes this as chastisement rather than the utter speechlessness it is, and instead asks: well, where are you headed?

Fray means to say Charn. He means to say home.

Instead, Fray says in halting, splintering words, each one tearing at his throat as it passes, "As far from here as you'll take me."

[fountainpenguin]

Since they're similar questions, how about 16-19 for the ask?

[Current Ask game]

What is your best piece of advice for writing action scenes?

Tension, quick sentences with sharp words and snappy dialogue, and focusing on things like adrenaline, racing hearts, fear, and things that might hurt you. Bare bones description in most places (with more in areas where a character pauses to recover). Basically, keep the "camera" on the character. Unless the character is actively looking around and thinking about other things, the story shouldn't either.

Trying to put unique flair in action scenes, especially if your story has a lot of fight scenes, is a good idea too. You don't want them to feel repetitive. Also it's a good idea for your POV character to have a reason to be the POV character; i.e. let them be the one who comes up with the way to achieve victory (if they're going to win) rather than someone on the sidelines giving the winning suggestion.

If you want to have lots of description (especially if you're in a new setting or early in the story) then having your POV character be an outsider watching a fight works too, I think.

[Examples from my work + the other questions under the cut]

---

Some ways I've used this advice:

Frayed Knots - Anti-Cosmo in "Deep" witnessing Cosmo and King Northiae fight Snowball the dragon, and Anti-Cosmo committed a cultural taboo by shapeshifting (His soul strings were also tangled with H.P.'s during this time so they were stuck together). Anti-Cosmo wasn't super involved in this fight because he screwed some things up, but that's fine... this fight scene is doing everything it needs to do. It's showing the reader Anti-Cosmo's attempts to be strong, how it flops, and what he learns from this experience.

The focus here was in putting pressure on Anti-Cosmo. We see his anxiety, we see his genuinely good desire to help, and we see the moment he decides to bend the rules. He carries the consequences of his taboo situation throughout Act 3 (begging Prince Eastkal not to tell anyone he shapeshifted).

Anti-Cosmo has good ideas, but struggles to execute them and/or hurts people while executing his plans. That's his whole theme in Frayed Knots... and this one fight is a representation of that. After all, you can't say Anti-Cosmo hurts people if we don't see him hurting them! In this situation, he deliberately drew more energy from H.P. than he needed to because he got greedy... which plays into his character in general and aligns with his behavior in later chapters where Anti-Cosmo makes a lot of bad choices because of his anxiety and greed.

It's who he is and that always stays consistent. He doesn't suddenly get to be cool just so he can fight a dragon and save a city. Nope.

Factor It In - The Narrator making a suggestion to WordGirl in "Tree Diagram" but WordGirl being the one to come up with a solution that won the fight. The fight was actually split between two chapters and I used Chapter 1 ("Order of Operations") to set the scene so the reader had context before WordGirl rushed back into the fight.

The focus here was in showing WordGirl and Huggy working as a team without Kid Math (who was mind controlled and attacking them); the rest of the story focuses on how WG and KM clash emotionally.

We showed how WordGirl and Kid Math are closely matched in strength. We set the scene (winter, traffic, bystanders pulling the fallen heroes from the road). We also set up things like WordGirl's super hearing and how overwhelming that can be for her. She also had a brief moment to look at her bruises and chat with civilians (Brent and Chuck, in this case). We also see a hint of a superpower that KM has that WG has never used before.

The fight scene does a lot for the story, and I try to shift deliberately in and out of "reflective moments where we pause" and "fast-paced action moments." For example, there's a moment where WordGirl tackles Kid Math and they both go rolling in the snow and get dazed until a civilian (their art teacher) drags them to the sidewalk. That's a shift out of the action and into a reflective moment, yet it feels natural and keeps the tension high because the reader (hopefully) is wondering if they're hurt or if they're about to get hit by a car.

Dog's Life - In "Flicker," BigB stands on the sidelines fretting while Scar fights a creeper. As the outsider, BigB has the full perspective of how Scar is dancing around, and it's scary for him when Scar leaves his view. Scar keeps denying any offers of help, yet BigB and the others get increasingly anxious when Scar gets backed against a cliff. BigB also counts how many hits the creeper has taken (and loses count when Scar and the creeper go over the drop).

The focus here is in feeling out of control or feeling like you don't have information (which pairs super well with my take on BigB in this 'fic, since BigB's entire thing is "the quiet guy who knows everything about everyone"). His anxiety goes up when things get unpredictable, so this was an action scene that paired well with this particular character.

The creeper fight is also a good contrast to the opening scene for this chapter, where BigB stood at the top of a hole with his hands behind his back and watched his friends fumble against a zombie spawner... We saw him watching a fight in his element first (comfortable, keeping tabs on the situation, staying aloof) because that little skirmish wasn't something that was supposed to stress the reader. When it was time to up the tension, the fight was something that made him nervous even though he wasn't the fighter.

What is your best piece of advice for writing angst scenes?

I think the important thing for angst is the build-up: the swing before the punch. To understand the pain, you need to have seen the sweet. I personally think opening a story in the middle of an angst scene wouldn't be the best move in most cases, as I think it works best after the scene has been established as "normal."

The goal of angst isn't a jump scare... it's the layering on of things that get worse and worse. Doubt, mistrust, betrayal... these things need to stem from something else. You need to see the slow break.

What is your best piece of advice for writing hurt/comfort scenes?

For hurt: Similar to angst, build-up is important, although opening with the hurt in something that's specifically mild hurt/comfort works well, probably. I'd say take your time to show the hurt and explore the concept of the hurt before you turn it around. Focus on the pain. Emphasize what's hurting so the reader is rooting for the comfort. Hurt/comfort is all about taking the time to settle down and breathe, and you can do that by showing a slow healing process.

For comfort: Slowing down... Focusing on details, especially in regards to physical touch. This is the time for softness, paying attention to other people or objects, and roaming your eyes around the room. Thoughts can wander and you have very slow, meandering, thoughtful moments in a safe space.

What is your best piece of advice for writing comedy scenes?

I don't know if I'd say I have comedic scenes, usually, though I have jokes sprinkled in my work. For me, I try to set characters up in situations I know they work well in. H.P. is snarky and Anti-Cosmo is paranoid, so they're a great comedic pair. H.P. likes to carry a joke a little too long and Anti-Cosmo gets easily flustered. I also played Anti-Wanda as someone who uses a lot of innuendo, which is another "flustering Anti-Cosmo, which is funny" situation.

H.P. and Anti-Wanda bounce really well off each other too because they don't take anything seriously and they'll make fun of everything (There's a scene in "King Me" I've had written for like 5 years that I can't wait to share... you'll know it when you see it).

I like to put characters in funky situations that the reader doesn't commonly find themselves in... I feel like that's inherently funny. For example, in "Flypaper," WordGirl had to rescue Super Why from a vending machine. He's 3 inches tall and that was the funniest place I could think for him to get stuck. It's inherently bizarre.

Another of my favorite moments from "Flypaper" was Becky asking Rex if he wanted to go to the beach and he was like "Aww man" because "he's not supposed to fly 30 minutes after eating." I think just... thinking about what a normal human would do in a situation and then asking yourself "how can I make this funny and specific to THIS character" helps a lot.

I think Dog's Life has some good examples of larger scenes that are funny. Here are some highlights:

Scott walking with Scott down the hall to drop off paperwork and Scar spends the whole time lightly bantering and/or flirting with him in an attempt to make Scott give him "banned blocks" from outside the city walls so he can have cool ceiling tiles. Eventually Scott gives in to a little bit of roleplay and they banter back and forth, and Scott finally says the one thing that makes Scar break character, which was implying that he actually WOULD give Scar ceiling tiles if he made it worth his time. Scar gets excited and Scott has to walk away rolling his eyes... it's silly to me.

It's funny because it's... ridiculous. No reader would ever be in that situation. For ceiling tiles. And the inherently roleplay nature of these two, who live in a society where everyone switches naturally in and out of their roleplay hats, is very funny and adds layers to every interaction. But while a reader won't find themselves in this situation, this set-up is extremely in character for Scar, who's always looking for good ceiling blocks.

I'm particularly fond of a scene I'm dropping in the Tuesday chapter which involves Martyn. Martyn has a knack for being silly in serious situations, so I deliberately put him in a serious situation and made him break the tone of it. Which means he sprints across a cave in the middle of a fight, screeching at the top of his lungs that he needs a time out because he "hasn't put his crocs in speed mode yet."

It wouldn't be funny if he said that line while he was just exploring in the cave... It's the fact that he's running from a guy with a sword that seals it. It's the funniest thing I could think for him to say and I set the situation up to make it as silly as I could. Just... trying to catch the reader off guard in little ways that feel true to the character.

In each of these scenes, the funny thing matches perfectly to the character's personality. If you want to write a funny character, you should take the time to figure out what exactly they think is funny and in what situations you could put them that would let them shine.

For H.P., it's snarky deadpan, so he often gets put in serious situations (such as council meetings). For Anti-Wanda it's innuendo, so she often gets paired with Anti-Cosmo who considers himself above such humor (and gets flustered easily). For Scar it's flirting and pretending to be oblivious, so he gets juxtaposed with someone who will let him get that far without cutting him off early. For Martyn it's having the wrong vibe for the situation.

I don't plan too much humor in advance, though if I come up with something funny, I like to add it. I have a certain tone I like and then I try to think what the funniest, sensible thing that could happen in a situation is :)

[Current Ask game]

[xoteajays]

miscellaneous ocs

fast and furious

name: leah cruz ship: han lue/han seoul-oh faceclaim: jasmine cephas jones summary: Leah and Han came as a package deal; they had for years, long before they met Dom in Mexico. They seemed inseparable, so when Han ‘dies’, it’s safe to say Leah spirals out of control. It’s the family that keeps her in line when every part of her screaming to do something she’d regret later. Instead, for the first time in years, she abandons her trusty bike, stepping back behind the wheel of a car.

name: angelo ‘angel’ guzman ship: roman pearce faceclaim: carlos valdes summary: Angelo Guzman was Ramsey's closest confidant. The two worked on God's Eye together. When Ramsey goes missing, kidnapped for that very device, the last people Angelo is expecting to find saving her were his old street friends from California. It's only obvious that he rejoins them, the family always comes back together.

name: santiago valdez ship: dante reyes faceclaim: gabriel luna summary: Santiago Valdez met Dante Reyes while just doing his job as a doctor. If he'd known saving Dante's life was going to throw his own life into turmoil, he doesn't know if he'd do it again - and those complicated thoughts worry him. At least with Dante, he's safe from Dante's enemies, but he doesn't know if that's necessarily a good thing. With family waiting and missing him, he grapples with the ideas of running or staying, especially when Dante starts with his fight with Dom Toretto.

name: yara nassar ship: cipher faceclaim: natacha karam summary: Yara Nassar was betrayed. She'd had a team once, under the leading of Mr Nobody, then Agent Aimes had chosen to abandoned her in favour of completing his mission. He had assumed she would die, never respecting her skills as an agent. When she survives, she doesn't return to the Agency, instead turning her betrayed feelings on befriending the Agency's enemy, the hacker Cipher. And maybe she develops feeling more than just respect for her new boss.

the old guard

name: dedaimia ‘dami’ voronina ship: andromache faceclaim: tatiana maslany summary: This was not the life Dedaimia Voronina had imagined for herself. Truly, she had thought little of her future. She had expected to die young, which she did. She had never thought she would wake up immortal after death. She was always a little messed up after, ever since the Guard had known her and brought her into their fray. Her death, long back in 19th century Russia, left an impact from which she never quite recovered. It was perhaps to be expected with having one’s skull crushed in. In death, she expected to be forgotten, which for the most part, she was. She was a ghost even unto herself, her memories scattered, forgotten, and shaky at best. She didn’t even remember her death. even without her memories, she at the very least had the Guard; and best of all, she had Andy.

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.148 thoughts

[You’re All Diamonds]

We pick up where we left off last week with Creed’s troop shocked that their assault failed. As I suggested last week, the tanks are unable to fall back because of Void’s battle stance activating Unavoidable. What I didn’t predict that is that Gina would have fine enough control of Unchange to be able to open holes small enough for just Fuuko’s bullet to pass through, and I was wrong about how Fuuko would use her Unluck

I figured that the Unluck would be attached to her bullets and would transfer to the tanks which represent the soldiers, but instead Fuuko expertly knocks out the periscopes to limit their visibility and force the soldiers to come out of the tanks to be able to navigate properly. The moment they come out, she’s already waiting to charge all of them with Unluck, causing their tanks to malfunction and knock into each other, giving Yusai an opening to damage the barrels with her brand spanking new Unbreakable sword, Kurikara!!!

I probably should have seen it coming with both Isshin 12 and Yusai being on the same team, but man am I psyched to see Andy’s iconic sword back in the fray. I wonder how they’ll go about convincing Yusai to give it to Andy? Will she get another one in its place, or will Andy get a new one instead?

Come to think of it, I think this is the first time we’ve heard the name Kurikara in the story proper, I think it was only ever referred to by name in the omake that explained where it came from. Speaking of things that aren’t named in canon, Yusai shows off a new move in her currently unnamed iaido style, so I hope we’ll get more info on that in the omake for this volume

Nico is shocked and impressed that the Union took out Creed’s men in just a couple of minutes, which really just goes to show much monstrous this team is when compared to normal people. Fuuko was jumping from tank to tank faster than trained soldiers could react, Yusai bent multiple tank barrels and even knocked the whole tanks themselves over with the SHEATH of her sword in the blink of an eye, and neither of those things have anything to do with their superpowers. They’re just that good of fighters!

Billy stays out of sight, as while the Union has saved his men, as far as he can tell they’re a third party trying to keep him from getting Disc. Even if they’re non-violent, they’re enemies to him, so he resolves to meet up with his other squads and Tella so he can fight back against this new threat. We’ve seen in the previous loop that Billy’s blindness enhanced his hearing, but now we see that it’s also enhanced his sense of smell. This may sound silly, but the human nose is actually just as capable of scent-tracking as a dog’s is, a dog’s nose is just more specifically formulated to accommodate doing so because their vision isn’t as good as ours. As Billy says, Tella uses a lot of conditioner, a scent that undoubtedly wouldn’t be normally found in this jungle, so it’s even easier to believe that Billy would be able to track Tella under these conditions, even if it is a bit outside of the realism

Fuuko plans to use Creed’s men as bait to lure him out so that they can avoid his tragedy; being unable to run out of ammunition as per his mission, Creed’s government/employers abandon him and his men, leading to their deaths in the Buroja conflict. Going by the fact that Creed is actually a lieutenant speaking with who appears to be a government official, I’m thinking that Creed is in fact a US soldier and that Horizon Balance were hired guns employed by some other government, rather than both being mercenaries as I originally supposed. Why any general would insist that a mission continue until all ammunitions are spent is beyond me, I would think that a mission being completed with as few bullets as possible would be ideal, but hey, that’s the US military for you; anything left over is a waste of taxpayer money, I guess

A fun detail during Fuuko’s explanation, you can see Sean huddled up into a ball on the ground, activating Unseen as evidenced by the grainy screentone around him. Poor little baby, probably got scared by all the gunfire

Things suddenly get even scarier though as Creed enters the scene, immediately dropping flashbangs and grenades with their pins pre-pulled, circumventing Undraw. He definitely isn’t familiar with Undraw, he just has sharp battle instincts and isn’t going to give the opponent any opportunity to throw the grenades away or evade them

Creed apologizes to his men for taking half-measures, presumably referring to attacking the camp of injured mercenaries and assuming that they wouldn’t be met with any tangible resistance, taking responsibility for the danger he’s put his own men into. I kind of assumed Creed would be a hardass who would blame his own men for not being ready for anything, but no, he’s shockingly understanding and just assumes responsibility as a matter of course. What a guy! He tells the men to head back to base while he takes care of this

An evac chopper arrives, but the general or whoever that Creed was speaking to earlier denies Creed’s men aid because he was unable to uphold his contract: as Undecrease has activated, he cannot use up all of his ammunition. The general tells him that he wasn’t planning to help him unless he’d completed his mission, implying that this whole thing was actually a suicide mission from the start, possibly a ploy to get rid of Creed for whatever reason. There’s a second person on the helicopter behind the general who seems to either be sitting down or slumped over. This may be farfetched, but I wonder, was that the previous Undecrease? DId this general kill a man knowing that the power would transfer to Creed, forcing him to be unable to complete his mission? If so, that’s pretty stupid, Undecrease is a miracle ability for a soldier to have that any army would kill FOR, not to get rid of! Of course it’s also possible that this person is another soldier who might be important in the next few chapters; we still don’t know anything about Ruin’s backstory, maybe it’s him for some reason? Whoever this is, it seems superfluous to have another person in the chopper, so I’m willing to bet it’s not just a throwaway detail

Creed curses the general, proclaiming that “a life that’s been fully decreased can’t be replenished.” This line almost certainly works better in Japanese, but because David Evelyn wanted to retain the word “decrease,” he was probably in a bit of a tough situation. If you’re having trouble understanding the phrasing, what he’s saying is basically “once a life has been lost, it can’t be regained,” which again oddly shows that Creed strongly values human life, at least the lives of his men. To the general, though, his men are as expendable as bullets, meant to be used and replaced. I wouldn’t be surprised if we learn next chapter that Creed defied this general in someway, so he was deemed a defective bullet and discarded

While Gina’s Unchange is invincible in and of itself, the infinite hail of bullets proves too much strain for her to mentally hold her concentration on the Unchanging air, but fortunately, help arrives in the form of Isshin 12 and two massive, Unbreakable shields! No matter how many bullets hit them, the shields will never break, and Creed doesn’t have his homing missiles like he did in the fight against Top and Chikara, so this is an instant reversal for the Union! I’m sure Creed will find a way around it at least temporarily next chapter, but this is definitely a good news moment for our team

I’m fully expecting the determining factor to be Sean, since otherwise there’s not really any reason for him to have been recruited, but I really can’t see how he’ll manage to be any real help other than sneaking up behind Creed and...jamming his gun? Seems like a great way to get killed though, since Creed is an expert soldier and Sean is a wimpy little street punk, so getting that close would be far more dangerous for him than anyone else I think

Still, this is a much needed moment for Sean to prove himself, so until he does muck it up, I choose to have faith in him! Show us what you’ve got, Sean!!!

[kudosmyhero]

Transformers: Robots in Disguise (Phase 02) #9: Combiner Wars pt. 2 - Night and the City

Read Date: October 05, 2022 Cover Date: September 2012 ● Writer: John Barber ● Art: Andrew Griffith ● Colorist: Joana Lafuente ● Letterer: Shawn Lee ● Editor: Carlos Guzman ●

Synopsis: The demands of planetary governing weighing heavily upon him, Bumblebee takes a brief moment of peace to perch on the hull of Turmoil's captured spaceship, stare up at the stars, and wonder about using the time machine in the ship to undo past mistakes. His reverie is abruptly ended by the crash-landing of Sky Lynx, who has just barely made it back to the city after the disorienting effects he felt while transporting Ironhide and the Dinobots into the wilderness. His report gives Bumblebee pause to wonder if some external force could be controlling the Autobots, Decepticons, and NAILs, causing their conflicts, but Wheeljack debunks the theory when he scans Sky Lynx and confirms that the mind-altering effects are not occurring within Iacon. Wheeljack offers three possible reasons why: simple luck, some still-active mechanism in the heart of Kimia is protecting them, or… the planet itself is responsible, wanting to keep the Transformers together. As if on cue, Metalhawk and Starscream arrive to offer their help finding Ironhide's team, but Bumblebee turns them down; Starscream thinks he is attempting to prevent him from currying favour with the populous in the face of upcoming elections, and although Metalhawk disputes so outlandish a claim, Bumblebee remains silent…

Out in the wilderness, the wounded Ironhide awakens to the sight of Slag and Swoop in battle, and attempts to sneak away, only to be stopped by the still-living Sludge—largely unaffected by the destruction of his dino mode head—who has also come under the same uncontrollable rage that has seized the others. Snarl, too, proves to still be alive, and his entry into the fray gives Ironhide a chance to get to safety. Activating his comm device, Ironhide picks up a recording from the missing Silverbolt, locks onto its source, and begins heading toward it.

Bumblebee visits Maccadam's Old Oil House to speak with Blurr, hoping his disaffected comrade will rejoin the fold to help search for the missing Ironhide. Blurr is reluctant, seeing in Prowl the same unemotional, black-and-white views on life and death as those held by Zeta Prime—whose life Blurr saved upon joining the Autobots—but Bumblebee is able to talk him into helping. Their conversation is observed by Ravage and Reflector at the behest of Shockwave, who has charged them with a special mission… although unbeknownst to the Decepticons, they are also being observed by the gun-toting Arcee.

Making his way through the wilds, Ironhide listens as Silverbolt's recording explains that the madness also took hold of the other four Aerialbots, but that over time, they all began working together to hunt their leader down. Ironhide soon learns that the same has happened to the Dinobots as they catch up to him and attack, but he is able to push them back and breaks into a run, covering the last of the distance to the source of Silverbolt's signal. What he finds, however, is anything but expected: somehow, the five Aerialbots have become merged into one single being, a titan who scoops Ironhide up into the safety of his grip and turns on the Dinobots, introducing himself as The Superion!

Bumblebee returns to Turmoil's ship to try and clear his head, and finds Wheeljack there, still working on the time machine. Bumblebee half-jokingly proposes several uses for the device, but Wheeljack explains that it does not allow for travel back and forth through time, only sideways, meaning that there will be no easy answers. Unfortunately, the ship chooses that moment to vanish; whether stolen by enemies or departed of its own volition, no-one can say, but it's just one more problem for Bumblebee's list… as the weight of leadership grows ever greater…

(https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Night_and_the_City)

Fan Art: BumbleBee by ubald007

Accompanying Podcast: ● Married with Comics: Rod Pod - episode 09

[azgaragedoornj]

Garage Door Safety: Essential Tips Every Homeowner Should Know

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Test Safety Features: Most modern garage doors are equipped with auto-reverse mechanisms designed to prevent the door from closing if an object is detected underneath. Test this feature by placing a block of wood on the ground in the door’s path. If the door does not automatically reverse after contacting the object, it's time to call a professional for a safety tune-up.

Keep Controls Out of Reach of Children: Garage door openers and controls should be kept out of the reach of children to prevent accidental operation and potential injuries. Educate your children about garage door safety and explain that the garage door and its remote are not toys.

Secure the Garage Door Opener: If you have a home with an attached garage, always ensure that the door between the garage and your home is locked. Additionally, never leave the garage door opener in your vehicle if it's parked outside, as it can provide an easy way for thieves to gain access to your home.

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Conclusion: Maintaining garage door safety is an ongoing process that requires awareness and regular maintenance. By following these essential tips, you can help ensure that your garage door system is both safe and functional. Remember, if you encounter any issues that you’re not comfortable handling yourself, it’s always best to call in the experts from AZ Garage Door NJ for professional service.

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[umbrellamedic]

weeping embrace (RIP)

Send “weeping embrace” for my muse to hug your muse and cry.

It's impossible to tell how long it's been since she last wandered into the Mastermind's realm. She should be hesitant to do so; maybe she is, but she approaches anyways. The usual squared shoulders and confidence is missing. Her arms are wrapped around herself, hunched over slightly. Her steps are uneven. The Entity scooped her up after a transgression in a trial- tried to maul a killer one too many times, not being a good little survivor- and she's only just been spat back out.

It's hard to think straight. Part of her knows this isn't really Raccoon City. Part of her can still hear her teammates dying in her ear and mission control declaring her unfit for extraction. A failed medic. A useless soldier. Her eyes are distant, struggling to focus between the false reality around her- the desks, the chairs, the little knickknacks and decorations the Entity scatters about to try to make it convincing- and the real past- undead threatening both her team and the Spec Ops agents who are ducking for cover or behind a corner and ready to start spraying bullets at the USS.

She walks through enough ghosts (almost daring them to manifest physically and get in her way) that she can't be sure Wesker is actually there. He was present in her punishment. Not really. Not physically. But she saw him. Heard him. Was killed by him not with his tendrils but with sharp, spiderlike limbs that burst through his skin to impale her. Rip her apart. Or sometimes he replaced that girl; Wesker holding the rocket launcher that destroys Beltway and burns Bertha so badly she doesn't know how she manages to drag herself along the filthy ground as far as she does.

Despite this, she goes to him. He's the closest she has to normalcy. His connections to Umbrella, his cruelty; it's easy for her to gravitate towards him. Now she does so again. The first show of strength is in the grip she has when she throws her arms around him. Feeling him solid under her is the first bit of relief she's had since the Entity decided to punish her. It releases something inside of her; the last bit of restraint that's held her frayed edges together long enough to carry her to the familiar killer. She sobs.

Her mask keeps the tears contained. It presses hard against his shoulder and hides her face. Just holding herself so close against him is painful. She doesn't know if she's still burning beneath her uniform or if it just feels that way. She doesn't know if she smells like blood and burning flesh and fat. She doesn't know how long before he kills her. Death would be as much a release as being held. Maybe it would silence the voices and stop the pain, at least for a moment.

She tries for words. They don't come. Not really. Just more sobs that shake her usually strong frame. Her mask is smothering her. The salty tears are torture against her face that feels as though the skin is burned away on one side. It's hard to breath. She doesn't let go, even when standing on her own becomes impossible. He is strong enough to hold her. She trusts this. Hell. He is strong enough to force her off of him no matter how tight she holds him. That only makes her squeeze him tighter, desperate for something real and solid.

[randomshyperson]

Sweet Us - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: An accident with interdimensional portals takes you to a world where you are married to your best friend. For a certain black widow, it's a great opportunity to torment you. Or, the one where you have feelings for Wanda and sometimes you just need to visit the version of you who had the guts to tell her. | Requested

Warnings: (+18), a little bit of everything from angst, bad jokes and happy ending, some milf!wanda was well, friends to lovers, kissing, nudity, avengers being a family, some drinking, several references to comics and series inside jokes, emo wanda, mild angst, everyone is homosexual 'cause i said so, car sex in the end, strap on use, bottom!wanda, reader being a simp in every world | Words: 12.555k

A/N-> A friend from A03 asked me for this one and she had asked for a comedy and I put in several angst scenes for free. Anyway, I think it worked. Now I still have a fic from a very old request for Spider!Reader that I should post next week. Hope you like this one!

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--//--

Sweet Us - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

The Multiverse was at war.

It didn't start in your world, however. In fact, according to Stephen Strange, the supreme of your reality, the war wasn't actually even in its infancy. He just knew that things had gotten out of hand and that the Avengers would be a good help in keeping the dangers at bay.

Therefore, Tony and Vision created special teams to help the sorcerers - In Tony's words, a glitter cleaning team (No one was offended, everyone was sure it was jealousy since Iron Man couldn't do magic) and you were one of the names on the Black Widow team. 

Obviously, Natasha was the leader. You, like her, were part of the Red Room in your childhood. The third was Yelena, and she didn't want to join the mission because Kate Bishop was coming back to the compound this weekend and she wanted to be a good friend.

You understood and said fine. Natasha was annoyed.

"It's her job, Y/N!" Complained the redhead for the hundredth time on the way to the Sanctum Sanctorum beside you. "If she doesn't help us to protect the universe, she can wave goodbye to movie nights with her girlfriend."

You sighed lightly. "But she hasn't seen Kate in months, Nat! It's normal to miss each other..."

"I don't even know why I'm trying to explain this to you." Natasha interrupted irritably, her hands busy reviewing ammunition (a Yelena task) while you drove the truck. "Of course, you understand well what Yelena is going through."

You frowned slightly. "What did you mean by that?"

But Nat only laughed dryly, ignoring your quibble and going back to check to see if the guns were loaded.

Usually, Stephen's missions were simple. Making sure the interdimensional cracks were closed in time and dealing with any kind of threat that might have escaped through them.

But as soon as you made the curve in the avenue, and you had to brake the car to avoid hitting the number of running pedestrians, you and Natasha knew it would be different than last time.

Natasha quickly slung a gun in your lap and opened the doors, and you wasted no time in running with her toward the confusion. Soon you could see the cosmic monstrosity that was happening there.

Right on top of the Sanctum Sanctorum, an extradimensional cathedral had opened. Stephen and some other magicians were floating around, trying to keep the creatures under control, and they seemed to be doing a good job. But extra weapons were always useful.

Exchanging a look with Natasha, you moved into the fray, and you had to put all your widow training into practice to stay away from the tentacled creatures advancing out of the colored cracks.

On a roll behind a car, your cell phone rang. You answered the call using the helmet of the uniform you and Natasha were wearing.

A small window became visible in your field of vision, and the image of a sleepy Wanda Maximoff with slightly tousled hair and scratching her eyes appeared and sped up your heart more than the surrounding monsters.

"Good morning Witchy, what can I do for you?" You asked in the gentlest tone you could manage, as your fingers worked to reload your gun. Explosions boomed behind you.

"dobroye utro, milaya ('morning sweetheart)..." She started with a yawn. "Y/N, have you seen my Imagine Dragons t-shirt? I can't find it anywhere and I was going to wear it to the show later."

"Yeah, it's in my closet-ouch!" A small exclamation of pain cut off your speech because some of the creatures threw an acid that corroded half the car and dripped onto your sleeve. Wanda was immediately alarmed.

"What was that, Y/N? Where are you...?"

"ARE YOU REALLY ON THE PHONE WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FIGHT?" Natasha shouted from across the street in indignation and thank god it was too far away for Wanda to hear. You grunted a little.

"We ended up in a conflict before we got to the sanctum, darling. No big deal, just a few more little magic monsters." You said, and Wanda's face grew even more worried.

"I'll dress up in a minute, I can help-"

"No, no, you're off duty." You interrupt her immediately, shaking your head and having to throw yourself to the side to keep a tentacle from holding you. "Wanda, go get some breakfast, and the blouse-Shit!" You hush to defend a blow, ducking and Wanda tries to look past the camera but to no avail. You return to the video breathless and with a helmet full of blood on the outside (Not that she can see). "Your blouse is at the top of my closet, wear it with that black skirt it will look great! I-I'll meet you and Pietro at the door of the show, okay? Seven-thirty. As we agreed."

Wanda hesitates, clearly worried about the muffled confusion around you. You soften your expression though you can feel a cut burning in your stomach. 

"I'm fine, Wands. I'll come home, I promise."

You never lie to her, especially if it is a promise. So she smiles, swallows dryly the anticipation, and trusts you.

"I'll be waiting, dorogoya. Seven-thirty, don't be late." She says before hanging up.

But the fight seems to get worse after that. Or maybe it's the cut on your stomach, which slows you down.

Natasha steps back to give you cover, and for a moment, it looks like you are winning. You see Stephen controlling the largest of the Monsters, and the mages closing most of the cracks.

You turn to tell Natasha that you have landed more hits than she has, but the redhead is already running toward you to get you out of range of the car that one of the monsters has thrown in your direction.

You both roll a little on impact, but you're fine. 

"You could have knocked me down a little more gently, Romanoff." You mutter to irritate her as you massage her shoulder. But Natasha is looking forward with wide eyes.

When you look and see the crack that you have passed through - and which was now closing in at high speed - you also widen your eyes. 

You stand up to try to stop it, but it is already too late. The portal had already closed.

"Okay. Okay. Don't panic." You gasp with your hand on your stomach, looking to where the crack was, but where now there are only streets. And what was once a chaotic fight with a crowd fleeing monsters, has turned into a quiet boulevard with pedestrians looking strangely at the blood-covered uniforms you and Natasha were wearing. 

"Let's try to be positive. Maybe we've gone to a nice world." You try but Natasha is drawing her pistol again, turning toward something behind you.

Black pickup trucks arrive at high speed and park, surrounding the area. Pedestrians run away and you swallow dryly, feeling a little dizzy. You can feel the cut dripping down your stomach as well.

"Let me do the talking." Natasha murmurs to you, as you watch masked agents step out of cars with rifles that are clearly far more advanced than anything you have in your world.

They all carried the Iron Legion symbol in a brooch on their chests, perhaps that's why Natasha lowered her gun to the ground and stepped forward with her hands in the air.

"We're not here for trouble." She tried, but one of the soldiers stepped forward.

"Identify yourselves outsiders." Demanded the male voice. You swallowed dryly as you noticed the iron hand that held a smaller type of iPad. 

"I am Natasha-"

"Reason for the Journey, not names." Cut the serious man - Or you imagined the expression by the tone of his voice. Like everyone else, he wore an iron mask that covered much of his face. But the long hair and green eyes were familiar enough for you and Nat not to despair. She swallowed dryly.

"Bucky, we are travelers from another universe, we are not here to cause trouble." Natasha tried as she stepped forward, but the mention of the name only made everyone tense up. The soldier put down his iPad and drew his gun. Nat stopped walking. 

"Reason for travel, I won't ask again!" He shouted demanding, and Natasha sighed slightly. She opened her mouth to reply, trying to decide how she was going to explain all of Strange's confusion when she heard a motorcycle noise. Bucky's variant let out an impatient grunt, but the vehicle was already parking next to the truckers, and someone got off.

"You're losing your touch, Barnes." Mocked the agent who got down, and before you could mutter to Natasha that it was a hell of an entrance, the woman was pulling a knife from her ankle and advancing on you two. Natasha wasted no time in reacting, of course, masterfully matching the blows.

"You're trespassing, illusionist." Said the soldier between one hit and another. You tried to help Natasha, but Bucky's variant attacked you and the metal arm kept you busy enough.

"It's not an illusion!" Natasha defended herself without stopping the fighting. 

"It's not, heh? If you really are Natalia, tell me something only I would know." Demanded the woman, making the redhead laugh confusedly.

"I don't even know who you are." Justified the widow, and ended up getting hit in the legs that knocked her down.

"Wrong answer, evil clone." Retorted the other. Fortunately, you had trained enough with Bucky to know exactly how to defeat him and had just hit him when Natasha fell. You only had time to run and throw yourself against the agent to prevent your friend from getting hit in the face.

The wound on your stomach throbbed with the impact, and you squirmed on the ground, trying to get up beyond the pain because you heard the other soldier doing the same next to you. Natasha ran into a range to you, helping you up and taking a few steps back. You both raised your fists at the Soldier getting up, but Natasha hesitated when they took off her glasses that were scratched in the fall.

"You take the right and I'll take the left, okay?" You directed but Natasha was lowering her hands. You frowned in confusion. "Nat, by god, she's coming, what the hell are you doing?"

The soldier started walking, and you swallowed dryly. Nat didn't hesitate. "Take off your helmet, Y/N."

"Do you want her to hit me in the head? Or worse one of the soldiers?" You asked in desperation. 

Natasha grunted impatiently, and when the soldier moved forward, she spun her body skillfully and used the same blow you never knew how to defend, effectively knocking the other woman to the ground. 

"No matter the world, you never watch the knees, do you баламут (troublemaker)? Mocks the widow, pinning the soldier beneath her, a victorious smile on her face. You frown in indignation.

"I thought you only called me that..." You mutter in annoyance, and Natasha sighs impatiently.

"By God, Y/N! Hasn't it become obvious yet? Take off your helmet, and help me before they shoot us." She shouted, and despite your grimace, you capably obeyed.

As soon as your helmet came off, the soldiers hesitated and lowered their weapons. Bucky - who was getting up - widened his eyes and made no attempt to attack.

The woman trapped underneath Natasha stopped struggling.

"I'm going to take yours off now, okay?" Natasha asked the soldier, who stood still waiting. 

As soon as the iron mask came off, and you saw your own face, you were completely speechless.

But only for half a second.

"Oh my God! It's me! I'm so cool! Did you see the way I arrive on the bike? Where did I learn to ride a motorcycle! And this leather jacket looks amazing on me! And see the way everybody put down their guns and let me fight alone? I'm like a super powerful leader, aren't I? My God this is so cool! 

Natasha laughed incredulously, and got off your variant, helping you to stand while you looked around excitedly.

"Like I said, it's not an illusion." Said the widow. "We are from another world. It was an accident to end up here."

Your variant swallows dryly, exchanging a glance with Bucky - who is standing and sort of at a loss for words with you praising the improvements his mechanical arm has received in this world - before sighing lightly.

"I'll take them to the compound, Barnes. Take the team to take care of the breaches they've opened up in the north." Your variant directs, and Bucky seems quite content to evade your comments, gesturing for the team to follow him.

In record time, the pickup trucks and soldiers are gone, and you and Natasha stand facing the motorcycle.

"You can't fit three on a motorcycle..." You mutter softly, making your variant chuckle. She moves to take something off the dashboard of the vehicle, and you realize that it is one of the rings that Strange owns. And that might explain how cars get to places so quickly in this universe.

She opens a portal into the street, and you walk through to end up in the front yard of the Avengers Complex.

"Are you writing this stuff down, Romanoff? Strange could lend us those rings." You whisper to the widow beside you, who shakes her head, hiding a smile.

"Why did you bring us here?" Natasha asks your variant, who is dragging the shut-down motorcycle to the entrance. 

"You need to give some statements, paperwork for multiversal travelers." She replies, parking the motorcycle before turning to you two again. "And well, the Legion of Ultron takes care of those matters."

You and Nat swallow dry, exchanging shocked looks. It is by following your variant that you realize that the Avengers' symbol is not on the door of the compound but the same as the Iron Legion's - or Ultron's - like the one on the brooch on their uniforms.

"Ultron worked out in this world then?" Natasha asks casually, and your variant lets out an impressed laugh.

"You guys know him?" She asked. You scratch the back of your head.

"Yeah, something like that." You mumble because you don't think it would be a good idea to say that he was a supervillain in your world and that you and Wanda destroyed his last body together.

It seemed like a good enough answer for your variant.

"The guy's a pain in the ass if you ask me." Retorted the variant. "But if you're fans, he stays in the Tower basically always, because he can work inside his own head. You can ask for an autograph before you leave."

Natasha giggles, muttering that it wasn't okay in the sense that she had no interest in asking the robot for autographs, but you barely heard it because you were impressed with the inside of this world's compound.

Everything was so clean and luxurious, and the painting of that legion of Ultron on the wall of the living room attracted your immediate attention. All the Avengers were there, and they were a few years older. The image of yourself smiling and with an arm around a redheaded Wanda made you interrupt the conversation.

"This girl. That you hug in the picture. Are you friends here?" You ask, and your variant raises a surprised eyebrow.

Natasha rolls her eyes. " Of course, you and Wanda are besties everywhere, Y/N, can we get back to adult business now?" Retorts the impatient widow having been interrupted in her questioning about going back to her own world, but your variant lets out a small laugh.

"It's all right, Natalia, in a new world I too would be curious to know where my wife is."

Your smile fades immediately, and Natasha's shock only lasts half a second.

"I beg your pardon?" She questions with a dry laugh. "Did you say wife? Are you married? You?"

Your variant laughs awkwardly, approaching the frame next to you. "Yes, for a few years actually." She starts by nodding to the picture. "That was taken in the first year of the legion, we called ourselves the Avengers back there. It was cool, but while I'm not much of a fan of the microwave, I have to admit that Ultron has improved everything. It's nice not to have any tragedies to avenge, you know?" You counter with a slightly nostalgic smile, lowering your hands and putting them in your pockets. "We had quieter years, I was able to start a family. Wanda and I got married just before we were promoted."

You had your mouth hanging open in shock. Natasha was biting back a smile, trying not to start laughing at your face.

"Wow, what a beautiful story." She commented with a slight tease that your variant didn't catch. "And were you guys friends or was it already a more direct thing with dating and sex in the compound?"

The variant gave a shy, confused laugh, evidently surprised at the straightforward curiosity. You grunted in shame, unable not to imagine the situation, and closed your eyes for a moment to control your own thoughts.

"Sorry, you and Wanda are not a couple in your universe?" Your variant asks tenderly, and Natasha giggles from your side as you try to control the red in your cheeks.

"N-no, we... um, no." You stammer.

"They're living a friends to lovers, I'd say." Natasha murmurs, and your variant gives a chuckle at the way you cross your arms in a sulk, your face burning like your ears. 

Natasha seemed intent on continuing to torment you, but someone crosses the hallway and you roll your eyes at the sight of Peggy Carter in front of you. You only know her from Steve's pictures and the Shield paintings, and it is impactful to say the least to see her standing in front of you.

"Y/N, I just got the notification from Bucky." She says seriously, her gaze on you and Nat. "We don't bring travelers into the compound, but seeing them, I already understand the exception." Says Peggy, to which your variant just nods.

"Is Wanda back yet? Someone has to take care of the trial and T'Challa is in Wakanda until next week." Your variant said, but before Peggy could respond, Nat steps forward.

"Trial?" She asks indignantly, but her variant softens her expression.

"It's just what we call it, Natalia." She replies. "We have rules for interdimensional travel, all are administered by the Council. It's dangerous to mess with the multiverse, everything has to be well taken care of to avoid catastrophes. When two variants appear in the middle of New York, we need to know what they were doing here."

Natasha sighs slightly, deciding to trust. It was you, after all. 

You, on the other hand, are trying to look at the shield Peggy carries on her back. She gives a little giggle when she notices, taking the item out to show you.

"So cool!" You comment excitedly, running your hand over the flag. "We have a Captain America on our world, his name is Sam Wilson, maybe you know him?"

"Oh, sure, he's our Captain America too." Peggy retorts with a smile. "He took over the shield after Steve Rogers. And I'm Captain Carter."

"Oh, that makes sense." You murmur nodding. "It's nice that you and Steve were able to stay together in this world."

Peggy frowns slightly, chuckling lightly. "Um, actually, Steve isn't...well, we were partners. In the war, before the ice. But now, well, he and Barnes got married in the fall." She tells you and you widen your eyes in surprise. "And I'm... um, I'm Margaret Carter Romanova now."

Natasha chokes in surprise, turning redder than her own hair. You can't hold back your giggle.

"You married Steve's ex-girlfriend? Sweet Jesus, Natalia, congratulations, really. I'll never let that one go." You teased and Nat grunted loudly, but the variants only chuckled lightly.

"There's time until the trial, and you guys could use a bath." Your variant spoke, clearly trying to dim the awkwardness of the conversation. "Come, I'll take you to, well, your rooms." Joked last.

You would have scoffed at the way Natasha tripped over her own feet as she passed Peggy - who muttered to her that she was very pretty in all universes - but you were too excited to see the rest of the compound.

Despite the different decorations - from pictures or coats of arms - in general it was quite similar to the one in your world. You found it funny that your room in that reality was on the other side of the tower, however.

"I imagine you know the showers trick." Asked your variant as she led you inside, and you laughed, nodding in agreement. "You can wear anything from the dresser, we're the same size after all. I'll see if I can get you guys something to eat. And I'll check if the operations with Bucky go smoothly. Make yourselves at home." Said your variant, before leaving the room.

Natasha turned her face and her gaze was full of mischief.

"So you actually want to marry Maximoff..."

"Choose your words well, Romanoff. You hooked up with your best friend's ex." You retort quickly and Nat chokes in shock. She closes her mouth with an irritated grumble and you giggle. "Let's get this over with soon, and you can torment me later."

"Oh, believe me, I'll torment you later." She retorts mockingly but is moving away toward the door. "And what can we do but wait? Strange is probably looking for us right now, which means we should take advantage of the time we have here."

"Nat, please stay out of trouble..."

"Or please, the баламут here is you." She retorts with a chuckle as she opens the door. "And I'm just curious what my life is like here. Come on, it's not every day we get to go to a different universe. If I were you, I'd go snoop around, maybe find out how you and Wanda ended up under a tree..."

You grunt in embarrassment, grabbing one of the pillows from the bed to throw at Natasha, but by the time you do, she is laughing her way out the door.

Sighing heavily, you decide that if Natasha is going to be looking around for trouble, someone of you should behave. For now, you need a bath.

Your room is evidently the largest in the world, especially the closet that your variant humbly calls a dresser.

You let your fingers run through the suits and uniforms until you reach a kind of dressing table, where you let out a soft sigh when you find a picture in the mirror.

Red hair suits Wanda. In the photo, she is sitting on your lap, while you kiss her cheek. You are both smiling, and what is most different from your world are the golden rings on your fingers.

You swallow dryly, returning the photo to its place and letting your attention fall to the fighting equipment your variant keeps there. The iron mask has its replacements in the top drawer, and you are curious to know how it feels.

Putting it on, you face your reflection. It's nice. You're considering telling Tony when you come back for a new design on your uniform when you hear footsteps approaching and a voice that makes you stumble with fright.

"lyubovʹ moya, ty tak dolgo (my love, you took so long)" Wanda comments as soon as she enters the closet and you swallow dry, ready to explain the whole story, but she walks over to you and hugs you tight and you can only sigh deeply. Once she looks at you again, she gives a little giggle at the mask, "I always forget how hot you look in this."

Oh.

Your cheeks blush, heavily, and you are grateful for the mask. Wanda kisses you on the neck and you almost become a complete mess. She doesn't seem to notice, pulling away and going back to saying something about the mission being over earlier than expected, and her looking for you, but you're trying to decide how you're going to explain everything and stop shaking.

All thoughts fade away when Wanda simply takes off her shirt.

Your breath catches, and you know that your face must be the same color as her hair. With trembling legs, you sit down in the closet chair, and Wanda - oblivious to all this - simply works to remove her bra and turns around with her torso exposed to you.

"[...] Anyway, that Bishop girl has been hanging around the house a lot, don't you think? I've asked America dozens of times, but she keeps evading the subject. Billy and Tommy refuse to tell on their sister, but I'm going to find out if they're dating." Wanda comments, but you're in shock, staring at her bare breasts without reaction. At your realization, she raises an eyebrow. "Malysha, are you listening to me?" She asks with some amusement, placing a hand on her waist and you gasp slightly.

"Jesus christ." You mumble affectedly, finally looking away and not risking looking up again. Wanda watches your reaction with amusement. 

"All these years and you're still speechless at the sight of me without clothes..." She murmurs approaching and you are opening your mouth to start explaining, but Wanda is straddling your lap and you find that you have lost the ability to breathe. "If we were quick, we can have some fun before the appointment this afternoon. Do that thing I like with your tongue..." She teased softly, hips grinding against yours and taking away your ability to think properly.

"Wanda, god, I'm not-"

"Wow, that's something." Interrupted someone from the doorway and Wanda screamed. She stumbled away from you, covering her torso with one arm, a mixture of horror and confusion on her face. But your variant, arms crossed from the doorway, was laughing. "I can only remember when I said I dreamed I kissed another version of you and you made me sleep on the couch. Now, look how the tables have turned."

Wanda grunted indignantly, "Explain yourself, Y/N! Now!" She demanded, still in shock that she was seeing two versions of yourself. Your variant didn't stop smiling but uncrossed her arms.

You heard something about multiverse but the wound in your stomach throbbed painfully and everything started to go dark. 

When you blinked again, you were lying in an infirmary. And Natasha beside you.

"Hey." You greet in a hoarse voice, and soon let out an exclamation of pain from the slap you got from Romanoff on the arm.

"Why the hell didn't you say you were hurt?" She questioned as you massaged the twinge and sat up in bed.

"I didn't think it was serious." You justified yourself feeling your whole body aching. "And the super serum has to be good for something."

"The serum doesn't make you immortal, Y/N! God, if I let you die in another world Wanda turns me into a frog." Grumbled the redhead making you chuckle lightly.

"She's not that kind of witch." You say, but Nat shakes her head.

"Oh, that's not what I heard." Says the redhead, nodding her head at the couple talking outside the room. Wanda and your variant are talking very close, and when they exchange intense smiles, and the variant takes Wanda's hand and kisses it before saying goodbye, you turn your blushing face away.

"What do you mean?" You ask Nat, who sighs a little.

"You blacked out for a few hours, Y/N. The trial is over."

"W-what?"

"Relax, it all worked out." Nat soothes you by forcing you back into a sitting position when you make mention of getting up. "They've had some bad experiences with travelers in this world, and now they keep things under control. They were waiting for you to wake up to send us back."

You absorb the information in shock, and before you can question further, Wanda is back. She opens the door and offers you such a tender smile that you suddenly feel very aware that you are only in a top because of the bandage they made on your belly.

"You're awake, dorogoya." She greeted, and you were too busy hiding your flushed face to notice Natasha's little smile beside you. "How are you feeling?"

"G-good." You murmured watching her approach the bed until she was close enough to touch your face. "Natalia already told you about the trial, I imagine."

"Mm-hmm." You merely replied, knowing that you would have no ability to formulate any answer with Wanda caressing your cheek like that.

She smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before commenting, "God, you're so young. This is so odd."

You laugh shyly. "You don't look old." 

That wasn't entirely true. Wanda was older than the one you knew, but that may be because you have all the traits of her face memorized, and your Wanda has no age wrinkles yet. Regardless, the version in front of you is absurdly gorgeous.

She chuckles a little. "You are sweet, but I am old enough to be a mother in this world." She murmurs as she pulls her hand away, you were going to complain about the lack, but she sits down beside you. "And indeed, I am."

You widen your eyes softly, but Natasha doesn't seem the least bit surprised, a little smile lingers on her face.

"Do you have children?" You ask curiously, and Wanda smiles, nodding in agreement. "Cool. They... are they ours?"

She bites her lip thoughtfully, and you imagine that there must be rules about what and how much to say about the multiverse. Wanda may have decided to ignore them all.

"Yes, they are ours." She replies, her hands moving to check the bandage on your belly. "America, not by blood, is our older. We adopted her when she was 6, she's the naughtiest girl I know. And then the twins came. William and Thomas. They are our biological children."

You give a lopsided laugh. "Is that, like, possible in this world?"

It's Wanda's turn to laugh, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Oh, dorogoya, believe me, we figured that out." That's what she replies, and you'll accept it as enough because you've suddenly allowed yourself to think about the attempts and the heat that has surged in your body makes you embarrassed. Wanda realizes that everything is okay with the bandage, and sighs slightly. "If you are really feeling well, everything is ready for you two to go."

You swallow dryly, nodding and forcing a smile at Wanda.

"Hey, Wands." You call out to her before she can get up. "Sorry." That's what you say, surprising her. "F-for not saying I wasn't your wife. And for seeing your boobs."

"Wow, excuse me?" Natasha cuts in with a laugh that Wanda accompanies. You blush heavily, but Maximoff gestures slightly.

"It's okay, sweetie." Wanda assures you. "My wife also gets tongue-tied around me. It's a good reaction, I suppose." 

"Well, you're super gorgeous, so it's not our fault." You mutter getting a shy chuckle from the other, but Natasha grunts softly.

"And you guys are super gay. I'm going to get something to eat before we go, Y/N." Annunciates the redhead before leaving the room, and you and Wanda exchange giggles as you were left alone.

Once the giggles cease, she reaches for your hand on the bed.

"Promise me you're okay?" She asks low, and you swallow dryly at the strong deja vu. Wanda is Wanda in all worlds.

"I'm fine, it was just a scratch. I promise." You assured her making her smile slightly. Next, you let your curiosity prevail. "Where did I go?"

Her smile didn't go off. "Home, of course." She says. "We work at the Tower, but our home is in Massachusetts." She tells surprising you.

"We live with the witches, huh?" you joke and it's Wanda's turn to be surprised.

She hesitates a bit, curiosity shining in her eyes as she draws patterns on her hand.

"Your Wanda...she's not a witch?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, half thoughtfully. "Well, technically, no? Her powers are super cool, and when she was with Hydra, she did some stuff with people's fears and everyone started calling her a witch. But she only does energy stuff and stopped with the mind control thing. The nickname little witch caught on, but she doesn't really do spells."

"But the powers, where did they come from?" She insists, and you shrug softly.

"From the mind stone, I guess." You reply. "That's what I know."

Wanda forces a smile, nodding and stopping her caresses on your hand. "I am a witch, Y/N. And I think your Wanda is too."

"Well, that's cool, I love magic and so does Wanda." You casually retort, getting a small giggle from the other.

"Malysha, listen to me carefully, okay?" She asks looking into your eyes. "I have met a few versions of myself in this extensive multiverse. None that have had their magic amplified by an Infinity Stone before. Your Wanda may be a special kind of us."

"Oh, like royalty?" You ask receiving a frown in return. A small smile forms on your lips. "I usually call her princess too. It would be nice to know I got another nickname right."

Wanda laughs softly, her eyes full of affection. "You really like her, don't you?"

You swallow dryly, evading the hidden meaning in her words. "S-She's my best friend."

The redhead doesn't seem to be impacted much by the correction. She smiles. 

"If I'm right, Wanda will be the Scarlet Witch one day."

You blink in confusion. "I don't know what that means."

"And you don't need to know." She says, placing a hand on your face. "Not now. You're young, she is too, isn't she?" She asks and you nod quickly. Wanda smiles, "You have time. Enjoy that innocence now, that freedom. If she really is the Scarlet Witch, the power and responsibility don't come for free."

You frowned in concern, raising your hand to her forearm. "Wands, what are you talking about?"

But she smiles, shaking her head. "It's not my place to tell your story, dear." She says as she strokes her skin. "Please, just be there for her. She's going to need you. I always do."

You swallow dryly but force a smile. "I promise."

Wanda smiles, and you hold your breath as she approaches. She kisses your cheek, and you know you are blushing hard. 

"Go get dressed, I'll make sure your Natasha didn't destroy something else." Declares Wanda as she walks away, and you frown in confusion.

"What did she destroy before?" you ask getting only a chuckle in return.

Many minutes later, you are wearing a completely clean uniform with a pouting Natasha Romanoff at your side. - She didn't like that the Legion of Ultron people wouldn't let her destroy another of the small statues of Vision (which in this world was Ultron) scattered around the compound. In her words 'microwave third wheel deserves no tribute'.

You were very pleased that some members of the Legion came to say goodbye to you.

Peggy even let you hold the shield before you left. And you were too busy talking to Wanda to notice the flirtations the captain threw at Nat only to see her blush.

"I think you would like to have this." Wanda said as she handed one of the masks to you, and got you to widen your eyes. 

"She-I mean, I won't mind?" You ask, and Wanda giggles.

"It was my wife who asked me to deliver it." She explains, and you take the item from her hands. "I think she'd like to give it to you, but someone has to make sure Billy and Tommy do their homework. And part of her got the impression that you'd like to see me by your bedside when you wake up."

You blushed again, babbling embarrassedly, which only increased Wanda's smile.

"Thanks for the mask, witchy. Really." You murmur and she moves closer to hug you almost tight enough that your bruise hurts. No chance for you to complain, Wanda could keep her arms around you as long as she wanted.

"Sorry to break the moment, love birds, but I think we'd better go soon." Natasha said as she approached with her arms crossed, and her face half flushed. "Our friends must be worried."

Wanda waved goodbye as she let you go, and you smiled at her before joining Nat. 

After the conversation, you weren't surprised that the return spell was done by Wanda, and you just arranged to wave goodbye to the Legion before entering the portal with Natasha.

The scenery of the compound was replaced by the interiors of the Sanctum Sanctorum, where Stephen Strange stumbled away from spell books toward you two.

"Romanoff! L/N! You are here!" He announced in amazement, but Natasha rolled her eyes.

"And we did it on our own, mister Supreme!" She scoffed.

"But it was Wanda who did the spell..." You muttered low, receiving an elbow from the widow who forgot you were injured and scrambled to help you stand when you howled in pain.

Stephen used his cape to float to you quickly.

"How long have we been gone?" Nat asked holding you as you squeezed the bruise gently.

"Long enough." Stephen replied. "I alerted your team, and was trying to find the spell to take to me and -"

But Stephen didn't even have to complete, because a female figure was crossing the hallway and as soon as she laid eyes on you, she let the teacup fall to the floor.

Pietro caught the item with a grimace, keeping the drink from spilling out, and Natasha released you just in time for Wanda to throw herself onto you.

"Hey, hey, I'm fine." You assured with a shy chuckle, feeling Wanda squeeze tighter. "I'm glad you found the t-shirt."

But she didn't laugh at your joke, sniffling against your chest and making you swallow dryly. 

"I thought I lost you." She confesses with her face hidden against you. "I couldn't...I couldn't feel you anymore. Nowhere. Don't ever do that again. You scared me."

You stroke her back, swallowing dryly before saying, "Forgive me, I didn't mean to. I'm here now. I'm safe."

Wanda only releases you because you grunt softly from the pain of the bruise. "W-what happened?"

"We have a lot to discuss, Maximoff, you have no idea." It is Natasha who answers, and you force a tender smile at Wanda.

–//–

In the end, Natasha did most of the talking. She took care of the story, and because you were injured, you insisted on taking care of the mission reports for Stephen.

She politely ignored your request and delivered them while you were busy at dinner with Wanda.

Unfortunately, you missed the show. Your interdimensional trip lasted almost two days on this world. The avengers were racing against time to find you, and Stephen had spent many hours enduring light threats from an angry Wanda demanding that he find out where you were. Pietro, besides being a mandatory presence on the rescue team, thought it best to stay around so that Wanda didn't end up destroying the Sanctum.

Your injury was healing fast, and although you had told the team members a few hundred times about the universe you visited, you were doing a great job of hiding the fact that you were married in your other life to your best friend.

When Kate Bishop showed up in your room with tickets to the next Imagine Dragons concert, they came with an ultimatum.

"You have to tell her." She said, completely confusing you.

"What are you talking about, Hawkeye?" You questioned, but Kate crossed her arms.

You widened your eyes. "Who told you?"

Kate laughed. "Really, Y/N? Nat tells Clint and Yelena everything. And Clint is my mentor, and Lena is my girlfriend. And well, I tell everyone everything, so I guess the only person who doesn't know is Wanda, but if Pietro already knows..."

"God I need to sit down." You state with a nervous nausea in your stomach, sitting down on your bed as Kate sighs impatiently, and closes the door with her foot as she follows you inside.

"Man, what's the big deal, you know? You married her in another world, and you're obviously super into her in this one too."

"Kate!" You interrupt her with a red face. "It's not like that, okay!"

Kate rolls her eyes, with an incredulous laugh. "As if." She mutters, but you grunt.

"Look, I can't, okay? Wanda is...perfect. She's everything. Everything I have." You state looking at the floor, and Kate frowns in surprise. You swallow dryly. "I can't ruin us. She's the most important person I have, and I don't know what I would do if I ruined this..."

Kate sighs, coming closer and kneeling in front of you, one hand on your knee. "Y/N, it's normal to be afraid. I felt the same way with Yelena. But look on the bright side, you can already see that you guys work in another life, you can have a chance to be happy in this one too."

You smile sadly. "That world was different, Kate." You mutter. "There, a lot of things that went wrong here, worked in that life. What if in this world, Wanda and I are supposed to go wrong? That variant was incredible. Fearless and so cool. I am not that way. I panic about basically everything, and I have no idea what I'm going to do with my life. Those two knew who they were and that they wanted a family together. And I have no idea how to do that."

Kate swallows dryly, forcing a smile. "But you don't need to know that now, Y/N." She says gently. "We are so young. Maybe your variants were as lost as you are now, but they had the courage to stand by each other until they were ready. The question is whether you will too."

You swallow dryly, silently absorbing her words. Kate offers you a soft smile and moves her hands away to take two items from her blouse pocket.

"I heard you missed the last one, and I hate the band, but I kept getting tickets because of the last name, so I figured you'd make better use of this than me..." She says as she places the tickets in her lap. "A confession is a good way to end a concert."

You laugh with flushed cheeks, picking up the tickets so they don't fall off as you hug Kate.

"I would never have the courage for something so public, but thank you little Hawkeye." You murmur and she laughs softly, hugging you back.

Neither of you notices the teary-eyed girl behind the bedroom door.

–//–

When your wound had completely healed, you went to Wanda's room.

It was Tuesday and it had been two weeks since the trip to the multiverse. The subject, in theory, was no longer anything new for any Avenger to be interested in asking about.

That's why you were surprised Wanda brought up the topic again.

"I'm just curious." She justified herself as soon as she saw your expression. "It's weird, to think there are other versions of us living around."

You chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck as you settled into Wanda's bed. It was a common image - Since you joined the team, your intimacy was very strong. And her room was practically yours. So she was at this very moment trying to decide what outfit she was going to wear to the Imagine Dragons concert, and both pieces in her hands were yours.

"You're right, witchy, but I already told the whole story." You lay with your head resting on your arm, as Wanda put the shirt over her body in front of the mirror. She hums, clearly not believing you and you frown. 

Wanda never acts like that with you. But to be fair, you didn't usually lie to her either. 

"What does ‘hum’ supposed to mean?" You question, but Wanda sighs wearily, scarlet magic keeping the garments in the air as she pulls her shirt up.

Your face burns and you look up at the ceiling immediately. Wanda notices you through the mirror, and has trouble hiding her little smile.

"It doesn't mean anything, just that I was listening." She mutters in clarification, and it's your turn to mutter back, not trusting your words when the image of Wanda in a bra is still so fresh in your mind. "Hey, Y/N?" She calls out after a moment, and you hum to say you're listening. "How come, if we're such good friends, we never change in front of each other?"

Your brain short-circuits. You open your mouth and close it dozens of times, but can't think of anything. 

"Is it a cultural thing? I thought Americans were more casual about such things..." Wanda continues, and you are sure it is meant to torment you.

"I don't know, Wands. Jesus." You mumble in embarrassment, stumbling out of bed and thanking the heavens that Wanda is already in her t-shirt. "It just never happened. You, um, want to change in front of me?"

She gives a naughty little laugh, raising an eyebrow.

"Humm, Malysha, take me to dinner first." She mocks, turning back to look in the mirror, and you snort indignantly. 

You walk dragging your foot out of the room, muttering that Wanda is playing games with you and misses the way she is blushing too.

Wanda won't find you again until dinner, and you are grateful for the hot food with which you can justify the redness of your face at having her approach you and kiss your cheek.

"What are we having today?" she asks, too close, a hand on your arm as she leans over to look at the pans on the stove. 

It has to be on purpose. Wanda has always been affectionate, but this here has to be a test to see if you'd have a heart attack before dinner or something.

"S-since it's Lena's birthday and we're going to be at the show, and she doesn't want a party, I thought I'd do something traditionally Ukrainian..." You start to explain trying not to sound so affected by the closeness and begging to the heavens that Wanda doesn't notice how much you are trembling. "There are some Nalesniki, which are cheese crepes, in the oven and the cured pork, Salo, is going to be the main course-"

"Is that Banush? Oh, dorogaya, kak zabotlivo s tvoyey storony (darling, how thoughtful of you)" Wanda cuts in excitedly as she looks at the food, and you smile immediately at her happiness. 

"Yeah, I've been trying to get the point of this one right." You count as Wanda stretches out her hand to taste the food. "And Nat and Steve went to the market to get the missing peanut butter for the Kiev Cake."

Wanda smiles, having gotten her entire finger dirty from the meringue that was going on the cake. She brings it to her lips, sucking it clean while staring at you before releasing it with a soft pop.

"Delicious." She praises but you're not even listening properly, the blood pulsing in your face at the sinful image. You feel an intense attraction, and lean in at the same time as Wanda and her dark eyes, but just as your noses brush against each other, loud avengers enter the kitchen.

You immediately pull away, Wanda biting her lips and you clearing your throat.

"Here's what you ordered, баламут." Natasha announces as she places the market bags on the counter. But as soon as she notices the tension between you and Wanda, she raises an eyebrow. "Are we interrupting? I can retrace my steps..."

"Shut up, Nat." You interrupt in an embarrassed grunt, wasting no time in grabbing the missing ingredient from the bag while Natasha giggles a few times.

Wanda follows the cue of Kate and Yelena walking in chatting loudly and leaves the kitchen behind them, barely listening to Steve's apology - busy with bags - who bumps into her as he closes the door.

Even if Yelena doesn't want a party, this feels like one. And you even baked a cake.

As soon as the food is served, the Avengers spread out around in various conversation wheels. Pietro kept changing the music every five minutes, but Wanda was too busy stealing glances at you talking to Clint across the room to bother.

"So Maximoff, how's it going?" It was Yelena, with a plate of cake in hand. Wanda sighed loudly.

"Not well."

Yelena grimaced. "What? Are you sure you are doing as I said?"

Wanda sighed again. "Yes, Lena, I'm sure. But maybe that's my mistake, you know?" Retorted the upset brunette, returning the soda glass to the table and crossing her arms. "Your tips worked for you and Kate. I'm not like you, and Y/N is not Kate. I did what you told me to, I even tried the t-shirt trick but she just ran out of the room!"

Yelena made a thoughtful face, chewing the cake. "Are you sure you did it right? When I did the T-shirt trick, Kate melted down and ended up confessing that she liked my tits."

"First, gross. Second, too much information. Third, I'm exhausted." Wanda confesses with a grunt, pushing her hair back. "I don't know what to do anymore. Ever since I heard her confession, I've just been waiting for her to make a move, but she just... I guess I should just accept that she's decided I'm not worth it."

Yelena shakes her head indignantly, pushing her plate on the table and placing her hands on Wanda's shoulders.

"First of all, I don't allow that kind of blue humor on my birthday." Yelena informs with a mixture of serious and playful tone, offering the brunette a tender smile. "Second, you are so close, Maximoff. You can't give up now. You have to play dirty."

"Play dirty?" Wanda asked in confusion, to which Yelena merely nodded, leaning in to whisper something in the brunette's ear that made her eyes widen. "Belova!"

The blonde laughed softly as she turned away. "It'll work, I guarantee it. It worked for Kate."

Wanda grimaced. "Too much information!" She complained walking away, but Yelena laughed, shaking her head and deciding to go look for her girlfriend.

Wanda had two seconds of peace as she poured herself some non-alcoholic punch before Natasha appeared in the kitchen.

"Lovely party, eh Maximilf?" She began, and Wanda gave a confused giggle at the nickname. "Oh, I forgot. Not a Milf yet."

"What...?"

"Hey, can I talk to you?" You came in suddenly, cutting off Natasha's question. Wanda didn't understand why you looked so uneasy - You had been talking to the redhead two minutes ago. She knew because she watched you all night.

"I'm busy, Y/N, talking to your wif-"

"Natasha." You cut her off almost pleadingly and the redhead sighs impatiently, and unlike Wanda, ignores your question and bends down on the counter only to grab a bottle of whiskey.

"You know what we should play? Have I ever never." Declares the redhead and turns to the kitchen with a huge smile. "Avengers! Everyone is going to play!"

You are visibly annoyed by the whole thing, but when Wanda approaches and goes to ask if everything is okay while the rest of the team starts getting organized to play, you force a smile.

"Nat had a bit to drink, and I didn't want her to talk more than she should. Maybe it would be better if I didn't join-"

"баламут! Don't even try to run away from the game! You're going to be the first!" Shouted the redhead from the room and you sighed loudly. Wanda giggled, moving even closer and holding your hand.

"I could charm them into forgetting about the game. If it's making you uncomfortable." 

You blinked impressed. "Would you mess with their minds for me?" You ask in a low voice, and Wanda nods, looking at your mouth. "What a naughty witch."

Heat spreads quickly through her chest, and Wanda bites her lip to hold back the sound that wants to escape her throat. She is about to kiss you in front of everyone when the team whistles and the moment is broken immediately.

You approach the circle, and because everyone has already sat down, Wanda has only one vacant seat on the other side of the room. She doesn't complain because at least she can breathe properly without you next to her.

"Now that we are all seated, you start Y/N." Natasha declares with a mischievous smile on her lips, her hands busy pouring whiskey into the glass that Pietro uses speed to place in each person's hand.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. 

"Never have I ever gotten drunk playing these games." You mutter getting a few laughs. Natasha and Tony exchange impatient buffos at being the only ones drinking.

"Very funny, kindergarten. Now allow the adults to play. Romanoff, would you like to do the honors?" Tony asks, but Natasha shakes her head, settling further into the couch.

"I'll give mine some thought." She retorts mysteriously, and since Tony doesn't insist, no one else does. Only Wanda notices the way you swallow dryly and squeeze your glass hard.

"Never have I ever been turned down." Tony declares arrogantly but the whole team booes in disbelief. Natasha laughs out loud.

"As far as I can remember, Stark, I did that about four times in my first week of the industries alone..." Affirms Romanoff and this is the first time you see Tony effectively blush with embarrassment. He takes it in stride, rolling his eyes and taking a long swig from his glass.

You don't drink, and somehow, everyone notices.

"Really, L/N?" Kate asks genuinely curious. You laugh sheepishly.

"You can't be rejected if you've never confessed." You retort and the team laughs in understanding, but Wanda realizes your smile is forced.

"Okay, okay, now it's my turn." Pietro cuts in raising his glass in the air. "Never have I ever made out with someone of the same sex. And yes, everyone here but me is going to drink." He sneers, at the rest of the team who laugh and exchange curious glances.

Steve clears his throat and settles into his seat to ask for his turn.

"Never Have I Ever... Googled sex positions."

The room burst into laughter. Tony was so red from laughing that he almost fell over backward. It was the whiskey's fault, probably.

"Jesus, Steve, this isn't a confectionary! You must say things you didn't do." Pietro clarified and Steve became a complete tomato, muttering that he had got the game wrong. Thank god everyone was starting to get drunk enough not to care.

Sam, as soon as he stopped laughing, raised his glass. "How about we make things more awkward for the originals? Never have I ever slept with a co-worker."

The original Avengers let out embarrassing grunts, and all of them drink.

"Wow, now I need to know who with who." Yelena declared but Natasha laughed.

"That's not the game." Retorted the redhead and didn't flinch even when Lena used the birthday card.

But the light and fun mood were about to end, because as soon as Thor said "Never have I ever been unfaithful." and was taunted that it was hard to believe that the god of fertility was faithful, Natasha stood up.

"Never have I ever... been in love with my best friend." 

The question hung in the air lightly for a few minutes. Most of the team thought it was funny, Kate, Yelena, Steve, and Bucky drank. But you remained static in your seat, feeling Natasha's gaze burn into you.

"Honest answers only, people." Insisted the widow, and soon everyone noticed that she was looking at you.

Clint noticed the way Wanda squirmed in her seat, lowering her gaze to her own lap, so he cleared his throat.

"Come on, Nat, maybe you should change the question, that's a pretty personal one."

Nat forced a laugh. "I have a better one then; Never have I ever married my best friend in another world."

You cringed, closing your eyes but Wanda raised her head.

Your reaction was answer enough, but she questioned anyway.

"What are you talking about, Nat?" 

The widow put a hand to her chest with false innocence in her expression. "What? You haven't heard? What a strange thing! Y/N must have been busy telling Steve about Peggy to remember, I imagine."

Steve sighed loudly from the couch. "Natasha, I said it was okay..."

"For you!" She interrupted indignantly. "I told her not to tell! It was my secret!"

He sighs again, the room silent and shocked listening to them argue. "What difference does it make, Peggy is gone."

"Exactly." Natasha retorts with tears in her eyes. "I have this perfect wife who makes me happy and loves this complete mess that I am in that world, but here, I have nothing. Peggy is gone, she never even met me. And she was my best friend's ex-girlfriend, so excuse me if I wanted that to be my secret. But now it doesn't matter anymore, because everyone knows!" Natasha exclaimed with open arms, and when she went to get down from the table, she stumbled softly, and Wanda understood that the bottle of whiskey was not to be the first of the evening. "And you know what the funniest part is? It's that Y/N only did that because she's scared! She has something incredible, the chance to be with the one she loves the most, and she's afraid!"

You feel your eyes fill with tears, and you are standing like half the team, who stood up when Nat stumbled. The widow, who now looks on the verge of tears as well, moves closer to place her hands on your cheeks.

"I just want you to be happy, you stubborn, idiotic girl!" she says indignantly and drunkenly. "And I need your first daughter to be named Natalia, too."

The group giggled emotionally, and you nodded in agreement, putting a hand around Nat.

"Come, Romanoff, what you need is some water and a night's sleep."

As you lead Nat away, the game ends and the Avengers scatter back with a few murmurs about the scene but no one is too upset about anything, and Yelena says she will check on her sister.

Wanda approaches Steve and Clint once they are alone.

"You two are the closest to Nat, so I want to know what this whole otherworldly marriage thing is all about." Demands the witch and the two exchange sighs. 

"Natasha has spent the last few weeks stressing about it." Clint began. "Apparently, she met a version of Y/N who was married to you."

"What?" Wanda exclaimed in shock, a warm thread of hope sprouting in her chest.

"Yeah, happy family with kids and everything." Steve completed the story. "She made several jokes, heckled Y/N with that story for days trying to get her to confess the whole thing to you. But in the end... well, you saw. Y/N told me that Nat's variant was Peggy's wife, so that was the end of the matter, and well, they got so tense that no one else had the nerve to ask about it anyway."

Wanda twists her fingers nervously. "B-but, do you guys think she didn't want to talk about it because she hated the idea?"

Steve and Clint frown. "What? No, Wanda, that's not it." The captain says, with Barton nodding immediately.

"I think maybe she loved the idea, actually." Clint says with a laugh. "But you know, you're all what, twenty, twenty-two years old. You're young as hell. If at that age, a version of me showed up saying I'm going to get married and have kids, I'd freak out too. Even today I have my doubts about paternity. It couldn't have been easy for Y/N, you know? I'd be scared to mess it up too."

Steve nods in agreement. "Especially with someone who is already important." He says. "If you didn't know each other, she might get anxious about a date or something. But, you two are so close. And I can tell you from experience that the fear of messing up and losing someone important like that is pretty strong." Steve said, his gaze going to Bucky across the room to exemplify. 

Wanda swallows dryly. "B-but I like her." She confesses low, and it's no surprise to the Avengers next to her, who smiles. "I really like her."

"You should say that to her, not to us." Clint says gently, and Wanda sniffles low, but smiles, nodding.

She takes a heavy breath and decides that this thing has gone on too long already.

–//–

Natasha fell asleep just as you and Yelena threw the blanket over her, exchanging giggles at seeing her sleeping expression.

"Hey, Belova, the birthday girl has to stick around at the party." You try as you watch her sit down, but she holds up a finger in warning.

"I told you I didn't want a party." She accuses in a fake serious tone, making you laugh guiltily. "I'm tired, Y/N. I'll text Kate to come to sleep with me, and the rest of the team can keep having fun."

"As you wish, birthday girl." You mumble but when you go to walk away, she holds your forearm.

"Thank you." She says. "For taking care of my sister."

You smile. "Usually, it's always the other way around. It doesn't hurt to return the favor once in a while." You say, getting a smile from her. "Hey, Lena, that Peggy story, I really didn't mean-"

"Don't worry." She interrupts gently. "I'm not mad, it was just a disagreement between you and Nat. Friends fight sometimes. You can apologize to her when she wakes up. Now you should talk to another Avenger."

You swallow dryly, looking away. Yelena expects you to make up an excuse, but you sigh. "Yeah, you're right. Wish me luck?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be lucky tonight." She retorts to which you only laugh without understanding the malice in her tone of voice.

You leave the room and decide to go look for Wanda at the party, but when you return to the living room she is no longer there. Sighing in defeat, you make your way back to the elevator and toward your bedroom.

You are quite surprised to find Wanda inside.

"Hey, Wands, I didn't know you were up here." You greet as you take off your jacket, and the brunette meets your gaze just for a moment, her attention on the mask on your shelf. 

"This is new. Did Yelena make it for you?" she asks about the item, running her fingers over the details. You swallow dryly, throwing the jacket on the floor and sitting down on the bed to remove your shoes.

"No, it's not from around here." You reply, clearing your throat softly. "You gave it to me."

She frowns in confusion, turning her face to you only to understand immediately when she meets your gaze. "Oh. The other me."

"Yeah." You gasp softly. "The Wife one."

Wanda looks away to the side, leaning gently on the shelf because she thinks her knees are weak.

"So that's actually true." She mumbles trying to sound casual, and you think your tie is too tight. To blame Kate and her small suits, you are sure.

"Yes, I was surprised, but it's not like it's completely out of the question, right?" you retort so naturally that Wanda's eyes widen slightly. Panic settles in your chest. "I-I meant that friends get married all the time! A-and of all the people on the team, if I were to marry someone it would make sense that it would be you, I mean, not that I'm thinking of marrying you, but if given the choice and based on our intimacy..." 

Wanda cuts off your anxious babbling with a giggle. "Detka, you're hanging yourself." She comments nodding to the tie that you took off in an all-crooked manner, and was in an even tighter knot around your neck.

She moved closer, her hands working leisurely on the item even though you both knew she could use magic to pull it off. 

"You really... don't think it's so impossible for us to be together?" Wanda questions the next moment, her voice husky and affected, and you raise your eyes to her immediately. 

She looks absurdly beautiful. And you sigh, biting your tongue to keep from letting that slip out instead of the answer.

She uses your silence to finish the knot, and when the tie falls loosely around her neck, she makes mention of pulling away, only for you to hold her by the waist.

"I don't think it's impossible at all." You answer finally, rising to stand at the same height as her face, and place a hand on her warm cheek. "I think we are made for each other. In any world, especially this one."

A short, shy, contented laugh escapes Wanda's lips and is mirrored on yours. She steps forward, breaks the distance between your faces and the world stops.

It's not your first kiss, but if it were your last you would die happy.

Her lips are soft and taste of cherry gloss. It's sweet and so warm, and it's over too quickly.

Wanda pulls back with sparkling eyes but slight insecurity. "Was that... nice?" she asks in a husky voice, and you almost choke because how can she have any doubt?

Instead of answering with words, you kiss her again. And again. And again. Until Wanda entwines her hands behind your head and slides her tongue into yours. You gasp because this is even better.

She explores your mouth until you need to break for breath, and when you do, your lips trace a trail down her jaw to her neck, and Wanda shudders, an aroused groan escaping.

You suddenly lose your balance when she pushes you sitting up on the bed, but you don't complain because she is straddling your lap next, kissing you with passion.

It's a war of hands and pulling, but it feels so good. Wanda kisses you with the same longing that you do as if she can hardly believe that you have wasted so much time without doing it.

It's late when you stop. Far beyond the end of Yelena's party.

You have half the buttons open, and her dress is dangerously lifted at the edges of her thigh. You are lying on your back on the mattress, Wanda beside you, hugging your body.

"I don't want to close my eyes." She confesses in a whisper with her head on your pillow, and you straighten up to be even closer. "I want to look at you."

You smile, your cheeks flushed. "I'll be here when you wake up. And you'll be able to look at me all you want."

She smiles but straightens up so that her face hovers over yours. "Just look?" She asks in a tone that makes you chuckle softly.

"I hope not. Please do more." You joke in the same tone and she chuckles lightly before kissing you again.

It doesn't take long for you both to fall asleep after that. Both of you with easy smiles on your faces.

–//–

One Month Later

Your relationship with Wanda was only getting better every day, unlike the war in the multiverse.

The variant was right - Wanda needed you. Luckily, you also needed her.

Even though the Avengers' missions were increasing, you and her were falling into an incredible rhythm in your relationship, getting closer to each other every day.

And speaking of proximity.

"We're missing the whole concert." You recalled in a breathless voice, Wanda's lips marking your neck making the task of conversation nearly impossible.

You were in the back of your truck. The original plan was to watch Imagine Dragons, finally, and Wanda was even wearing your T-shirt. But well, she wanted a kiss, and somehow you ended up in the full auditorium parking lot in a heavy make-out session.

The sound of the music muffled out the sighs, and hopefully, the night made it impossible for anyone curious to try to look inside the car.

Wanda was on your lap, grinding against your thigh, and you were gripping the seat for support, trying to resist the urge to rip her clothes off.

Wanda seemed to want quite the opposite.

"Detka..." The brunette practically whimpered, teeth dragging under your skin. "Touch me."

You groaned aroused, tightening your hand around her waist and earning a sigh in return. "By god, Wanda, we're in a parking lot."

She complains with a bite on your skin that makes you gasp. "Why won't you touch me?" She insists almost annoyed, and you sigh before bringing your hands to her face.

"I thought you wanted our first time to be special." You explain with a warm face, surprising her a little, "We won't even be able to make any real noise here. And it's going to have to be quick."

Wanda bites her lip, her hands going down to the buttons of your blouse. "It's going to be special anywhere, detka, because it's with you." She retorts before stealing another firm kiss. "Now someone is confident about the quick and loud." She teases getting a small laugh before you return to kissing her with more passion now, determined to win the implied challenge.

Wanda tried to match the intensity of the kiss, but her hands wandered and you adjusted just enough for her to feel something else.

She broke the kiss with a soft choke, her center pressed against the firmness between your legs. Her darkened irises flashed in surprise at you.

"What's this, dorogoya? Were you planning this?" She asked with a mixed tone of teasing and mockery. "But what about all that stuff about our first time to be special..."

You grunted impatiently, thrusting your hips upward as you firmed your hands around Wanda's waist, and the precise friction of the strap against her made her whimper and grip your shoulders tightly.

"This was meant to be for after the show, smart-ass." You explain half breathlessly, watching her gasp as you guide her movements in your lap. "I did something nice in your room, with roses and everything. But someone couldn't keep their pants on..."

Wanda gave a guilty little laugh that turned into a groan when you pressed her right. 

"I need you inside, detka, please." She whimpered but you shook your head, stopping your movements to push her skirt up with one hand.

"I need to stretch you out first, pretty girl." You explained, sliding your hands inside her skirt and choking on your own breath as you found no panties. "Wanda, by all that's most sacred..." You grunted affectedly, leaning your forehead against hers and she gave a breathless giggle.

"Yelena's idea, you can thank her later." She clarifies, throwing her hips forward to encourage you to move your hand. You follow the cue immediately, and when your fingers sink inside her, she arches her back and throws her head back. "o chert, detka! (oh fuck, babe!)" She exclaims affectedly, making you smile proudly.

"Feels good, doesn't it, babe?" You ask meekly, curling your fingers inside her tight intimacy and stimulating her at slow speed until Wanda is panting and whimpering. "You look so sexy riding my fingers, pretty girl."

Wanda moaned deeply as she came and you muffled the sound with an intense kiss, feeling a strong wave of arousal at the sensation of her pussy twitching and dripping onto your fingers.

"I'd say that was pretty quick, but let's try the loud now, what do you think?" You sneer at the dizzy with pleasure girl in front of you, who has a few seconds to recover from her climax before you unzip your pants and adjust the strap with her entrance, making her jerk a little for her sensitivity. You kiss her cheek, hands on her thighs. "Changed your mind?" You ask warmly, showing in your gaze that there would be no problem at all if Wanda wanted to stop, but she shakes her head quickly and kisses you hard. You feel her straddling you, and only know that she has done the work to adjust and sink into the toy when she gasps against your lips in a loud whimper.

"Fuck, it's too big."  She whimpers, and you hold her waist, keeping her still. Your lips kiss her face and neck, and one of your hands moves up to her breast, stimulating the tip and making Wanda roll over against the strap-on instinctively.

"You can take it, I know you can." You coax meekly, the hand on her waist moving down to her intimacy, your fingers beginning to draw circles on her swollen clit that make Wanda drop her forehead against your shoulder, an affected moan leaving her lips. "Can I start moving, sweetheart?"

Wanda nodded breathlessly, practically bouncing on her own and making you smile. You held her by the waist, looking down to see the strap-on soaked when you pulled it out and then watching the toy unstrap inside her as you lowered her back down, the image tearing a moan from you. 

You kissed Wanda again, but as soon as she found her rhythm on top of the fake cock, it became impossible for her to reciprocate. She bounced on your lap, the sounds of your hard thrusts echoing mixed with her whimpers of pleasure until she began to spasm and you had to take over.

"Bozhe moy, detka, ya tak blizko! Ne ostanavlivaytesʹ, pozhaluysta, ne ostanavlivaytesʹ! (Oh my god, baby I'm so close! Don't stop, please don't stop!)" Wanda came with a loud cry of pleasure, making a complete mess in your lap and destroying half the seat with her magic.

You kissed her hard, exchanging breathless giggles as you caressed her hips.

"This definitely beats watching Imagine Dragons." You joke and she laughs with flushed cheeks, kissing you again. 

You notice that the noise of the music has diminished, indicating the first break, and you sigh together. Wanda speaks before you.

"Take me home, dorogoya. " She asks against your lips, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I don't want to stop."

You choke softly, and nod dumbly, which makes Wanda smile. 

You have no idea how you managed to drive home after that, but part of you thinks Wanda must have used magic.

[rommahh]

{this show was off the walls. He looked so good. And the energy was just??}

You stood uncomfortably at your flights gate with Harry. After being with Harry for five shows, your anxiety had reached a peak leaving you to be faced with one of your worst panic attacks before the St. Louis show. Harry didn’t want you to feel so much mental pressure so he suggested that you go home, he even bought you a ticket without consulting with you.

Your shoulders were tense as you stood rigid next to Harry. You were beyond upset and sad. You felt like a burden who being sent away to make everyone else feel better.

“Love, it will be ok. I’ll see you in two weeks for the Nashville show.” Harry comments watching your face scrunch up withholding the tears. “I just want you to see your therapist for a few days.”

“I don’t wanna go. It was one panic attack. Ive done fine every other night and on the bus.” You huff not making eye contact with Harry. “You’re just sending me away.”

Harry feels his heart break in two. “That’s not-“

“We are now welcoming our first class passengers.” He was cut off by the attendant. You grab your duffle on the ground, opening your phone to the electronic ticket. You moved to get in the line but Harry was quick to grab your arm to stop you. You couldn’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes at the look of hurt on his face.

“You’re not even gonna say goodbye?” He whispers.

“Why should I? You said it for me when you purchased the ticket without even talking to me about it. I’ll call you when I land, I love you and goodbye.” You snatched your arm away, rushing to the slowly growing line of passengers.

Harry watched in defeat as you trudged onto the bridge that boarded onto the plane. You felt those traitorous tears push past the surface, your feet feeling like they were dragging behind you- wanting you to go back to your heart.

The entire flight home was painful. All hours spent on the flight looking lifelessly out of the window. Harry put you in first class but none of the comfortable perks could make you happy.

It was weird to walk back into your home with no one there walking in with you or even waiting for you. The house was dark and quiet and you felt scared to even be in the stupid beach side mansion all alone. Times like this made you regret moving in with Harry. This house only felt like home when he was there, any other time felt like your own personal solitary confinement.

Hey lovie, hope you’re flight went well. Having groceries delivered to the house for you. I love you and miss you. Xxx H.

You scoffed. That anger from before bubbling within you. He misses you? You left him on read, the pettiness easing the anger.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the small read notification under his sent message. He waited a few moments thinking maybe you just forgot to press send. Minutes turned to hours and hours turned into the next day.

You sat at the dining room table watching the waves eat up the sand and pull granules away at a time. Your laptop sat in front of you after you finished a telehealth therapy appointment. A ring sounded from the laptop signaling that someone was FaceTiming you.

Harry’s icon popped up in the corner of the screen. You hesitated before answering. You couldn’t bare to look at yourself in the camera knowing you looked a mess. Your eyes swollen from the sobbing during therapy. Harry thought you looked beautiful nonetheless.

“Good morning baby.” He broke the silence.

“Hi.” Was all you could muster. This wasn’t the two of you. You both would normally fill a space with sound and giggles and now it was just silence.

“How did you sleep?” He asks. He looked as disheveled as you. Hair messy, face red and puffy.

“Fine.” You didn’t look at him, playing with the frayed edges of your Live on Tour hoodie. Harry huffed in frustration.

“Is this how it will be from now on?” He snapped. Your head snapped up out of shock.

“You’re getting at me like somethings my fault!” You snapped back.

“Well, we didn’t leave on the right foot.”

“You sent me away!” You retaliate.

“No, I did not. You had a panic attack before I went on stage. I had to come on stage late because I was consoling you.”

You flinched at his comment and tone of voice.

“So it’s my fault? I can’t control the panic attacks. It wasn’t like I conjured one up for attention.” His lack of response broke you. “Really?”

“No, I don’t think you did it for attention but it’s a lot Y/N. I want to take you on tour with me but it’s a lot for me and you know it’s a lot for you.” He tries. His words hurt though. You’ve felt like a burden your entire life and to feel that way because of the love of your life hurts even more.

“Ok. Um, I have to go.” You choke out. Harry shakes his head, the weight of his words catching up with you.

“I didn’t mean it in that way. I love you and I only want to protect you.”

“Yeah, protect me by sending me away when things get tough. I’m sorry for being a burden Harry.” You hang up before he could get the last word in.

Harry sat on his hotel bed shocked. He doesn’t know how things escalated the way they did. He made her feel like a burden. His body racks with sobs as he thinks of how his love must be feeling.

The day of Harry’s Philly show you felt uneasy. You didn’t like not being with Harry. You got so used to your preshow rituals with him. It hurt to be left out after being so involved.

Harry felt the same way. His regret evident in the way that he couldn’t stop blowing up your phone with short apologies and messages. He woke up alone in the hotel room on the day of a show feeling like utter crap.

His stomach was in knots and his heart couldn’t stop pounding. Normally before a show you both would share a light meal and have small discussions about nothing. You both would take silly selfies together or watch tiktoks. But now it was just Harry.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, impulsively clicking your contact to face time.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” He mutters. He lets out a sigh of relief when your face reveals.

“Hi, Harry.” You murmur, your face squished into a pillow, his pillow because it smells good.

“Hi-hi baby.” He stutters fidgeting in his seat.

“What do you need?”

“I need you. You’re not a burden. I want you here, not there but here. I have a show in a few hours and all I can think about is how you’re not here with me.” He cries. You sit up in the bed, tearing up watching your boyfriend cry. His shoulders shook with the sobs that wracked through his chest.

“Harry, please breathe. Your gonna hurt yourself.” You try to calm him down but can tell it’s not working.

“Come back.” He whimpers.

“I-I think I’m going to stay home until Nashville. We both need a breather from each other and I know I need to see my psychiatrist and probably get some new anxiety medication. Which will take the two weeks to kick in you know?” You reason. Harry wiped his face of tears nodding understandingly.

“Ok. I miss you though. I fucked up horribly by making you feel less than. I know you’re not a burden and I’d do anything for you. The stress of tour is starting to weigh on me and I took it out in you when I shouldnt have. I also thought I was keeping you safe by sending you home, but I shouldn’t have done that. Because we are a team, I shouldn’t be making choices for you.”

“Thank you for apologizing. I understand why you did what you did. You were trying to protect me, I know. I love you Bubby.” Harry felt his world come back together at the nickname, a signal that you two would be alright. “You have a show in like three hours, you need to get ready. Eat some food, drink water please, and I’ll go and scroll through TikTok and send you all of my faves ok?”

“Ok. Thank you for being everything to me. I couldn’t do what I do today if I didn’t have you in my life.” Harry’s sincerity made your heart swell.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We will be alright. Now go!” You urged him to hang up the phone. He gave you one last smile before hanging up.

Watching Harry through some Instagram live wasn’t what you had planned for but it felt good to see him. He even wore the outfit you picked out with Harry lambert, the blue and pink paying homage to fine line. You’re heart gushes when he tells the crowd that he’s feeling really happy.

The next day you have another therapy appointment with your regular therapist, you even phone in Harry to join the call. You felt warm on the inside as your therapist reassured that you and Harry’s relationship was on the right path. She even said that you and Harry were meant to be together.

She didn’t have to tell Harry that for him to already know that information. I mean he had the ring sitting in his pocket to prove it.

[magicsunwheel]

Why You're F#cking Amazing

Pick-a-Card

How to play: pick one of the photos below using your intuition. You can close your eyes and meditate for a bit or just take a few grounding breaths while thinking of the topic. Feeling drawn to more than one is fine! You might have messages in more than one pile

Pile 1 (x) Pile 2 (x) Pile 3 (x)

My pile numbers always go from left to right, then down to the text row (if applicable)

Pile 1

Cards: The High Priestess, Five of Swords, Seven of Pentacles, The Moon Rx, Five of Rods, Ace of Pentacles

You are so intuitive! You're either very in touch with your divine feminine or are working your way there right now. Something about you is severe in the most beautiful way. You can take things seriously when they need to and the way you command a room with just your presence is unmatched. Maybe you're also a tarot reader or involved in spirituality/divination in some way. Maybe you really like Pick-a-Cards.

Something beautiful about you is that you never give up on a fight, especially when you know the end is worth it. Your ambition is strong and you will fight for what you love and what you want. You are not weak-willed by any means.

This also makes you so unique! You work so hard and put so much labor into your love even if you know it will take a long time to come to fruition. The times that you feel discouraged by a lack of results are few and far between. If for some reason you do find yourself wistfully hoping for faster results or an easier path, you can easily remind yourself of why you started in the first place.

You might have moments where you think of yourself as sneaky or like you're hiding a part of yourself from others, like your true self would be too much for them. I'm here to tell you that your intensity is exactly what make you such a beautiful person! You thrive in competition and in adversity. It gives you a chance to show off your quick thinking and survival skills. Others look at you with envy of how you can make an opportunity out of seemingly nothing!

If you need help improving your self-love, Spirit says to stop comparing yourself to others! You are amazing and beautiful and unique all on your own! Throwing yourself into the fray to compete against others who are nothing like you will only fim your inner shine. And you really do shine! When I asked for a card about why you are beautiful, nearly half the damn deck flew out!

Sprit loves you and I love you so please take care of yourself and keep making those amazing opportunities to improve your physical surroundings. (I feel like you have a very clean room/home)

Pile 2

Cards: Nine of Rods, the World, King of Cups, Three of Rods, Ace of Rods, Two of Cups

Ahh the Loona pile!

Similar to Pile 1, but much more fiery! You are resilient! Taking time to collect yourself before pushing forward with a renewed sense of energy and purpose is such an amazing and useful trait. You maybe aren't as commanding of a presence but you have such an inner strength that no one can deny.

You got the World for the reason why you're beautiful! Maybe it's related to physically being very beautiful and possibly exotic-looking. You might have very specific features associated with a certain area of the world that stand out where you live. You also have such a wonderful understanding of the world and where it's currently at. Things can seem negative or like hope is lost but you still seek out the beauty and share it with others. You see opportunity where others do not and feel a sense of peace and connectedness with all of humanity. Wow!

Your uniqueness shines in your emotionality and compassion. You might be a natural born leader who makes sure to understand all under your rule. You lead with kindness and, most importantly, by example. You don't have any desire to use you position for ill-gotten gains. Power to you does not corrupt, it solely provides a tool for you to do good in the world and really make a difference in the lives of others, whether it's on a large or small scale. You are probably the kind of person who makes sure to give money to those who need it when you pass a begging mother and her children, or buying a homeless man a bottle of water on a hot day.

Your card for why you think you are not perfect actually came out quite positive. Maybe you don't have a very low self esteem, but I can see a few possible scenarios here. You might be constantly planning in your head, waiting and watching for the next move to take but never actually getting to the action part. Maybe you're planning for your future and have so much planned out that you're excited for, but haven't made the practical plans on how to actually get there. This could make you feel bad about yourself especially on days where you're reminded of others moving ahead in their lives while you're still planning. Visualisation is very important in manifesting your desired reality! If you are moving slower than others around you, remember that it is okay to not be where "everyone else" is. Life is not a race or a competition. Taking your time to get to where you need to be when you need to be there reminds me of the story of the tortoise and the hare. Quick does not necessarily mean better.

You can improve your self-love by creating! Using your creativity and passion to make something! Create art, whether it's physical/digital art, music, writing, inventing, anything that uses those creative muscles of yours. It doesn't have to be good! Just creating something will help burn up that excess energy you have that's trying to rush you somewhere. Self-expression this way can be a wonderful hobby even if you don't consider yourself as a creative person.

Your kindness really shines through. You care so deeply about the people around you and your spiritual team cares just as deeply about you. You are loved and watched over and protected by Spirit. Others around you also see your sparkle and appreciate and admire you, even if they don't show it. Know you are beautiful and amazing and bringing a light into this world that needs to be here.

Pile 3

Cards: Six of Rods, the Hierophant, Four of Rods, Six of Cups, Ten of Swords, the Hermit Rx

Damn, who are y'all!? You've got some mighty power and pull in this world. Maybe you're a public figure or have some kind of platform, like a social media with many followers. You could also be well-recognized within your field of study/work. Whoever you are, people see you and look up to you. They celebrate you and how amazing you are! Spirit loves this about you and you really shine in the spotlight. Your achievements deserve all this pomp and celebration!

You are naturally authoritative. People listen when you speak and take your words to heart. You might also be a religious person or someone who enjoys organization and the comfort of hierarchy. People will willingly follow you wherever you lead them because they trust you with all their hearts. "A merciful ruler" (lol) You hold your position with grace and dignity befitting a king or queen.

You are unique in ways the public recognizes, but we knew that already! You might be someone who likes to entertain and you throw the greatest parties and get-togethers. Maybe you've planned a wedding and everyone had such an amazing time! You know how to relax and have fun when the time for celebrating arrives. You can out down your guard and bit and let loose. Not many people with such responsibility can let go of the reigns like that, but you don't seem to hold on to control too tightly.

Your past might be a source of anxiety for you. Maybe you're worried that what you've done when you were younger will catch up to you and ruin what you've got going on now, but it's important to remember that the past is the past. It cannot be undone or wished away. Taking time to accept what happened and recognizing that you've moved on to bigger and better things is important here. Whatever happened, take time to heal your childhood wounds and forgive past actions.

Ending this cycle will bring much more self-love to your life. Old habits and patterns being out to rest is the way forward. It might be a painful ending and something you don't necessarily look forward to, but it is something that needs to happen to clear out old energy and welcome in everything new. You can't expect to move on if you're still repeating old actions or ways of thinking. It's time to set these things to rest and evolve. Leave behind what no longer serves you.

Your understanding of yourself knows no bounds. You've taken the time to inquisit yourself and learn all of the shadows that lie there. Self-reflection might be a favored pastime for you. Through this knowledge of yourself you are able to see truths that many struggle to see all their lives. Your light can cut through the fog if bullshit and see the true source of something. Use this knowledge of yourself to become the best version of yourself that you can be! I know you're already on your way there and it's amazing to see! Spirit is so proud of you and loves you so much!