#home but it never lets her rest and step out this role for even a second and she’s tired man she’s tired

[nazumichi]

if no one’s gonna make up messed up things about characters no one cares about then well. time for me to step up.

#raii talks a lot #*taps microphone* do you think marie ever thinks about leaving the city out of “that one good deed” that everyone keeps talking about that #she doesn’t understand for a thing in the world. leaving out of “business purposes” and being on thin ice with everyone there and it’s her #home but it never lets her rest and step out this role for even a second and she’s tired man she’s tired #no well that’s what I’m here for

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 1

summary ;; As Jake Sully's oldest daughter, you never see eye to eye with him, always challenging him and pushing his buttons to the limit. What happens when things go too far one day? [PART 2] pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; welcome to the labor of my daddy issues and my very own therapy. this fic is inspired by this one by @layonatanvi and I only wanted to borrow the running away from home to get an ikran idea/prompt! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any.

There’s a widespread belief among sky people that every first-born daughter is a direct copy of her father. 

You listened in on your own father complaining to your mother about this privately one time; according to him, this was why you guys kept banging hammerheads like 'angtsìks. 

Lo’ak was his troublemaker, yes, but you were the rebel pain in his ass, wouldn’t stop questioning one tiny simple step he made, never took anything seriously when he needed you to be on top of things hundred percent of the time... Even your younger brother knew boundaries after he was given the stink eye, but you hadn’t stopped testing him every single goddamn day after the sky people had come back. 

His youngest son and oldest daughter were nearly identical in the speed they got him seeing red, but the similarities ended there. Lo’ak would go behind him to cause trouble, and you would do it right to his face, that fearlessness and defiance made you more dangerous than your brother in your father’s opinion.  

His blood pressure skyrocketing was reserved for Lo’ak and the shenanigans he knew right away the boy was getting into, and you got his explosive anger the moment you would open your mouth to defy him — he couldn’t talk to you, a normal conversation even about your mother’s cooking wasn’t possible without you being passive-aggressive and things snowballing from there. 

(“This is delicious Neytiri, thank you for the food. Sturmbeest?”

“Sturmbeest meat ran out like two weeks ago, father. You ask this everyday and mom answers the same everyday.”

Cue him reprimanding you for talking to him like that, you saying maybe he should greenlight a hunt soon to calm his nerves and promptly being sent to your room. It was Neteyam who’d saved some food for you that night.)

If only you would stop talking back to him and listen for once, he’d said, pacing in the tent with hands on hips like an agitated viperwolf as mother watched on, most likely tired from going through this loop for yet another day. You are the older sister to Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk, why can’t you be a role model for them like Neteyam is? 

(Mom had given him the flattest, “She is at the age for such behavior, Ma’Jake, we’ve talked about this. Let her be.”)

In your defense, he didn’t make sense sometimes, what harm was there in wanting him to explain the thought process behind his decisions?

Apparently you simply were prohibited from doing that to the Olo’eyktan. 

But he was father, he was your family. Why did that have to be disrespect? 

He wasn’t like this before.

A small part of you was aware this was you lashing out because you missed your father — the lighthearted rock in your life, the big shadow protecting you from the heat of the world, who knew how to smile and show his love before all of this. Now he was just the leader of the clan, the weight of the revered Toruk Makto on his shoulders made him a total stranger you didn’t recognize. 

He barely ever called you sweetheart anymore, punishing you for being a brat, most likely. You tried to act like it didn’t hurt. 

But it did. You missed him dearly when he was right in front of you. The rest of the family did, too, they just didn’t say it out loud the way you expressed through what you called standing up to him — in reality, it was a statement about the man he had become, father couldn’t read between the lines to understand.

Mom did. 

She would always explain he did it out of love and worry, and his every move had a reason behind it after the scoldings ended. It was as if she saw right through the prickly exterior of her eldest daughter.

Her love wasn’t held back like his was, not shared like military MREs at decided moments in a day in between attacks, raids, meetings and duties. Hers were long touches, hugs, kisses on your temple, shared time and hunts together, her letting you ride on her ikran with her, the warmth of a meal and soft smiles; whilst his was randomly asking how you were after training and where you’ve been if he caught onto your absence sometimes. He didn’t have time for you or your siblings except for Tuktuk these days. That’s why you were now a mama’s girl.

Sooner or later, the breaking point was finally bound to arrive. 

Yours did after a particularly heated-up fight about your rite of passage. You had had enough of father postponing it when Lo’ak, younger than you, had already gained his own ikran and gone through uniltaron. He was present in the tent while you were fussing and debating with your immovable mountain of a father only answering with single syllable responses, and his light snickers made you all the more aggressive. He got a strong jab from Kiri after a loud snort.  

Kiri, you could get. She was built different from the start — got her mount earlier than anybody else, just walked up to it and asked. Besides, the girl wasn’t a dick about it like Lo’ak was. 

“You aren’t ready yet,” father answered the more you asked him. You thought he'd say a different thing the hundredth time, but he didn't. “Your brother was.”

Lo’ak puffed his chest at that, desperate for a drop of recognition as always, and you could only roll your eyes. “So you think I’m weak? I’m not strong enough?”

Father sighed at the provocation. “That’s not what I’m saying. This and being ready are two different things.”

“How are they different? If I’m on top of my training, that means I’m ready.”

“Physically ready, and mentally ready are not the same.”

“How can I not be mentally ready, I’ve already seen what happens—”

“Enough!” He stood up, towering above you and leaning in slightly. Your younger brother had stopped smiling so quickly you almost let a laugh escape you, and father got agitated when he saw that, thinking you were making fun of him. “Some don’t return from the dream hunt. Do you understand? The strongest sometimes don’t return from that. Your mind needs to be strong.”

“And mine isn’t?”

He gave a slow exhale through his nose, not actually wanting to say it for some reason. “No it isn’t.”

“Why?”

There it is. Your signature phrase. ‘Why?’

And it made your father look above, asking silently for patience from Eywa as it always did. 

“Ma’ite, why don’t we take a break, hm? Come walk with me,” your mom interrupted, taking your hand and standing next to you, your four fingers got enveloped in her larger, warmer grip, strong and insistent. 

“No, I wanna hear it. What do you think makes me not ready?”

You insinuating that your father was entirely going off his own wrong opinion and not knowing any better set him off. You saw the change from ticked off to borderline on edge, but instead of giving into it, he turned his back on you and went back to cleaning his gun, movements choppy and harsh. “That immaturity for a start.”

And you hissed at him—actually hissed at him when none of your siblings would ever dare to talk back to him during a lecture. 

The audible gasps, the holding of breaths, and the slow turn of your father’s head looking like he was going through confusion of reality upon being hit on the head had followed. His eyes narrowed and the lines of his eyebrows got gradually lower on his face, his form seemingly expanding in mass from building anger, spine slowly straightening after fully comprehending what you just did.

“I’m way past you giving me attitude missy,” his baritone and low voice was so steady that you’d rather him yell at you like usual, but he was scarily calm, pushing you to raise your chin righteously at him to show you weren’t bothered by him none, but your ears betrayed you by cowering flat and taut against your skull. “But you’re hissing at your father now? Hm? You think this right here is gonna get you the respect you think you deserve?”

“You don’t listen,” you said, ignoring your heart trashing away from how coldly father was to you.  “Disrespect,” your fingers quoting in the air resulted only in making him angrier. Neteyam to his right, silent and observant the whole argument, was furiously shaking his head that the beads in his braids were clicking loudly. “is the only way you ever pay attention to anything anymore. See? Look how sharp you are right now. Mission accomplished, I guess.” 

“Bro…” Lo’ak, frightened by the wide eyed glare father was giving you, weakly protested, but you knew he would never be able to interfere in the verbal struggle between you and father the way you did to his. 

“You will go to your room,” father said between his teeth, “Do not let me see your face. I swear to Eywa—Neytiri, get her outta here.“

“Do you ever want to see our faces anymore, father?” 

A beat. 

Mom gasped your name in shock, grabbing your arm this time as if she wanted to drag you away. 

All his fury froze away immediately. “What did you just say?” 

You just stared at him. 

“That’s enough,” your mother snapped at you, but you didn’t hold it against her, she was more worried about what would follow if this went on. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Okay.” Father slowly shook his head, the storm brewing right under his skin got you preparing for the impact, and all the kids flinched when he threw the unloaded gun back in the crate. “You know so much, don’t you? You’re smart, wise. Know better than Tsahik herself. Fine, you get your way. Go.”

You froze. “What?”

“Yeah, go. Get yourself an ikran.”

“Father—”

“Don’t father me. Go on. I’m not stopping you. Since you’re so ready and you’ll say just about anything to get what you want, who am I to get in your way, huh?” 

But you didn’t want it to be like this. Iknimaya was supposed to be something exciting, prideful — a ceremony. He was saying it like you were being thrown out. Who was going to paint your face? Be proud of you? 

“Why are you just standing there?” He poked your crushed ego further, confident in the fact that you wouldn't set one foot outside of the cave systems at this hour of the day. “Didn’t you want this?”

You didn’t want this. 

“Dad, it’s the middle of the night,” Kiri said, appalled, not quite believing her ears. 

“What does it matter?” He showed you in mock pride, up and down that you couldn’t stop the tears from stinging the corners of your eyes. “Mighty hunter here is ready.”

“Jake,” your mother warned in such a threatening tone that he stopped and shifted on his feet, almost uneasy. 

“What? If she doesn’t want a father’s concern I’m not giving it to her.”

Like you weren’t standing right in front of him at all. 

“Jake!”

That was the final straw. You wrenched your arm free from mom’s iron grip and screamed, “I hate you!” at the top of your lungs at him before storming off the tent.

His ears flattening was the last thing you paid attention to as everything became a blur because of tears swelling. Yeah, right. You wished you could hurt him, unfortunately he was too much of a wall for that. You bet he was scoffing at your declaration right now.

Your body thought faster than your brain did even when the emotions had you drowning under the current, deciding you were going to sneak off to the ikran rookery tonight. You knew he would send Neteyam after you — him barking, “Follow your sister,” at the boy right after you hid yourself between the rocks surrounding the tent was the confirmation of the hypothesis. He was to make sure you didn’t leave High Camp. 

Everyone in your family knew your favorite hiding spot to cool off, Neteyam of course was heading there automatically, and it was the headstart you needed to get a move on. 

Fine. You would complete your iknimaya yourself without anybody’s support, as if these things had any value anymore with how military he’d conditioned the clan to be. You were going to make him eat his words for humiliating you.

The muffled of father drifting off flared up your determination as you soundlessly sneaked off. "Jesus, I've spoiled her too much..."

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝 #📖: light

[exhaslo]

Ahhhhh omg ty for writing my request of Pornstar!Miguel x Pornstar!Reader it was so cute and sooooo great <33 I loved it very much !!

IDK if you wanted to write a part 2 for it, but since you ended it off like you did, I was wondering what would happen when they meet outside. I kind of want to see a Jealous!Reader who gets jealous seeing Miguel work with someone else for a shoot cuz it looks like he’s having a great time with his co-star. But Reader takes him back to her place and gives him the night of his life? I appreciate a Dom!Miguel, but I was wondering if the roles can be reversed this time with a Dom!Reader? Not necessarily a Sub!Miguel but like more body worship and Reader trying to prove that she’s the only one for him. Get him pussy drunk >< Thank you again, and I hope the holidays don’t get too hectic for you ;-;

Ty & you're welcome!! I'm glad you liked the first request!!! I hope you enjoy this one too!

PT 1

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, riding, overstimulation, creampie

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

It had been a few weeks since you and Miguel started working together. The chemistry the two of you shared was nothing you ever felt before. Honestly, you might even call this love. You weren't quite sure, especially since the type of work you did made you question the concept.

But sure enough, Miguel gave you reason to believe. Every time the two of you shared a screen, you had to compose yourself and remember that everyone thought you were acting. Hell, they were fully convinced that you were a star.

You were good, that much was true. The only time you could let yourself go and be free was when you and Miguel met at either his place or yours. Miguel was absolutely destroy you, making you question if sex work was the kind of job you were good at.

Sex was different with him. Everything was different with him. Part of you wanted to tell Miguel that you wanted to quit working as a Pornstar and just be a normal couple with him, but you were scared. Part of you wondered if Miguel even liked you back. If he even shared the same feelings that you did.

"(Y/N)!" Miguel called out, waving towards you. You hurried to his side, nuzzling your head into his chest to hide from the cold,

"Gosh! I didn't expect it to be this windy today."

"Yep," Miguel wrapped his arm around you, keeping you sheltered from the wind, "Before we get to our movie, I want to tell you something. I got a gig with another person. My manager told me to take it, b-"

"I understand, it's the job." You forced a smile, resting your head against him, "As long as we still have these moments to ourselves, I don't...mind"

---------

Oh you gave so much shits.

Literally the next day, you went to work and couldn't help but poke your head into Miguel's studio. There were butterflies in your stomach. This was a bad idea, but you were curious. You wanted to know who dared tried to steal your man er, partner, no, coworker. Yes, coworker!

You felt your heart sink as you watched Miguel smile towards your competition. Of course, it had to be your rival. The two started to shoot and it just kept getting worse for you. Miguel looked like he was enjoying himself with her.

Unable to watch as your rival started her horrible moans, you hurried home. You claimed that you were sick.

---------

Miguel stepped out of the shower after his shoot, sighing softly. He glanced at his phone, seeing a message from your manager. Miguel furrowed his brows as he read that you went home. Sick? You always gloated that you never got sick.

"Wow, Miguel, that was amazing. You know, I think we make a pretty good team. Why don't we-"

"No," Miguel said as he quickly finished to get dressed,

"Awe, don't be so mean~ How about I take you out on a date?"

"No. Got me a girlfriend," Miguel said firmly, packing his bag. Your rival just huffed,

"And she's okay with your job? She's okay with you fucking another beautiful woman?"

That was it. Miguel felt a light bulb appear above his head as he hurried out of the shower room. Leaving for the day, Miguel stepped out of the building and saw you in your car. He approached, wondering what you were doing.

"Get in," You huffed, rolling down the window.

"(Y/N), are you okay?" Miguel asked, sitting down. You started to drive to your place,

"Yes." You lied.

Miguel smiled softly towards you, enjoying your cute jealously. He went to reach for your hair, playing with it as you drove.

--------

You were mad. Once you entered your apartment, you pushed Miguel onto the wall and started kissing him. You didn't want Miguel to enjoy working with other women. You want him to want you only. Who cares about what your managers wanted!

Pushing Miguel onto your couch, you sat on his lap and started to furiously grind against him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you deepen the kiss. Miguel just held your waist, moving his hips along yours.

Gosh, if you weren't taking charge of this, you'd let him fuck you dumb right now. Feeling the friction starting to hurt, you quickly took off your skirt and panties. Miguel helped with your shirt, before you returned to his throbbing dick.

Taking off his pants and boxers, you grabbed his dick and started to stroke it. You were going to have Miguel burn this night into his memory. Have him remember that you are the only one for him. Hopefully he thought that.

Sucking against his tip, you moaned lowly as you played with yourself. Miguel's dick was far too big for you to take in your mouth. You tried several times. You whimpered, trying to take more of him in as you stroked his dick faster.

"(Y/N), don't....force yourself," Miguel groaned lowly, gripping onto your hair.

You muffled in protest, causing Miguel to moan. With one more lick, you watched Miguel twitch, ready to burst. Precum already dripping from his dick. You resisted a chuckle, unable to hold out much longer either.

It was funny how good the two of you were when working, but when it came to being at home? Oh, you both let yourselves loose and gave into the lust.

"I hope you're ready for a long night," You told him.

You whimpered, moaning lowly as you slowly sat on his cock. No matter how many times you fucked, his dick would always stretch you out and fill you. You almost cam on the spot. Resisting a moan, you started to bounce against his dick.

The sheer size of him was going to make you tap out for the night. Your pussy kept sucking him in while his dick twitched inside of you. The sounds of his moans were turning you on more. Resting your head against his shoulder, you whimpered a moan as you cam hard.

Miguel was not long to follow. His tight grip against your waist made you weak in the knees. You kept bouncing on his dick, becoming a slightly moaning mess as he filled you. This wasn't enough. You weren't going to let him go so easily.

"Let me take over, (Y/n)." Miguel whispered, kissing your neck. You gently pushed him back onto the couch,

"N-No! I'm taking control tonight and...I'm not going to let you rest until you learn your lesson." You huffed. Miguel just chuckled, cupping you breasts,

"Very well. I'll just ruin your pussy by sitting still."

You moaned lowly as you began to shake. Your vision was blurring as you felt your burning knot about to burst again. Your gummy walls squeezing the life out of his dick, making your mind hazy. With another bounce, you cried out as his dick rubbed against you g-spot, causing you to orgasm.

"Such a beautiful sight," Miguel hummed. You were breathing heavily, unsure how much longer you could keep going,

"Not...yet."

Eventually, you gave Miguel permission to move you to the bed. He laid down, moaning and groaning to your uncontrollable lust. You were milking him dry. Bouncing against his dick as if him cumming inside you four times wasn't enough.

Miguel was breathing heavily now as he watched you cry out from overstimulation. You were struggling to fuck him, probably because your legs gave out. Sitting up, Miguel swapped positions, pressing you against the bed,

"(Y/N), you're so fucking beautiful. Of course I know that his pussy is mine and mine alone. Think I don't get jealous thinking about all the men who had a taste of you?" Miguel groaned into your ear, snapping his hips into yours.

"A-Ah~ M-Miggy~" You whined, feeling weak. Miguel grunted and moaned as he fucked you roughly,

"You're mine. Only I get to enjoy this pussy like this. Only I can have you like this."

"I...I'm going to quit..." You admitted, squirming as you felt another orgasm coming, "I-I only want you!"

"Then I suppose I'll have to quit too,"

Miguel pulled you into a kiss, shaking as the two of you cummed together. Miguel groaned as he pulled out, watching his cum spill out of your abused cunt. He pulled you beside him, nuzzling his head into your neck,

"You did well...I'm exhausted." He muttered. You rolled on top of him, smirking as you slid his dick into you again,

"I said I...was t-taking over for the night. I'm n-not stopping until you get drunk off me."

Miguel just chuckled weakly in response, already pussy drunk. He held your hips, watching you cry out in pleasure. Perhaps you were just trying to get pregnant, but whatever the reason, Miguel gave you want you wanted.

-------

You both had a goddamn good reason to call out the next day.

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Hope you enjoyed~

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara smut

[scarletttries]

Roronoa Zoro Falling In Love Headcanons (One Piece)

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro (Live Action One Piece) x Reader

Rating: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: After lacking a bit of inspiration recently I just finished watching the live action One PIece on Netflix and am completely obsessed, especially with Zoro! So here a few little headcanons for him, and I might do a part two of relationship headcanons too. Also requests are now open for any of the one piece characters so send them in! 💗☺️

- Oh Zoro. Truly the epitome of a heart of gold hiding behind a sarcastic, borderline cold, facade. A man who pretends to be affected by nothing, despite having so much space inside him for friendship and devotion.

- Chances are he'd first come across you when he and Luffy are docked in another new town. Maybe you're a pirate whose name he's heard in passing and considers trying to capture for the bounty. Maybe you're someone who just loves and helps out the small seaside village you live in, trying to make a few Berry from the ships passing through. Maybe you're the next key step to reaching Monkey's dream of finding the piece. Whatever he expects to find when your paths cross, it certainly isn't you.

- Before he even knows you're the person he's looking for, one look at you and he knows you're important. Like you exist in a slightly brighter light than everyone else he's ever met before, and he's not sure if he should shield his eyes or if he can't bear to look away. He stops dead in his tracks at the sight of you, the first glimpse enough to have his heart pounding in his chest like it never has before. Luffy watches his usually stern friend let his mouth fall open in silence, baffled by his actions until Nami leans over and whispers to him. Zoro can't hear exactly what she says but he hears the word 'crush' and feels his stomach churn at the thought. He wants to run, but he's unsure whether he wants to go towards or away from you. He grips his white katana as a panicked instinct when finally you glance up and send a friendly smile to the eclectic group of pirates standing, staring at you.

- Luffy can tell before you ever say a word that you're good and kind, and destined to be aboard the Merry as a part of his crew. Zoro can't bring himself to do anything but loom over his captain as he makes a sales pitch. The part of his brain that likes to be in control hopes that you're busy and tied down, that you'll reject Luffy's offer and he'll never feel as shaken and desperate as he does in this moment again. A much bigger part of him knows that he won't survive if you say 'no'. Like without you he might never dream again, doomed to spend the rest of his days sailing aimlessly, searching for the same rush he feels every time you look up at him over his friends straw hat. Thankfully Monkey rarely asks someone to join his crew that he isn't certain will eventually say yes. And so you do, accepting it's time to try a new path and join this strange group of good-hearted sailors, hoping for a new shot at your dreams.

- Monkey, Sanji and Usopp are all friendly from the get-go. They can't wait to share stories of their journey so far, and make sure you feel as safe and at home on the ship as they do. Nami takes a bit longer to open up to you, but when she does you can understand why, and while her friendship is harder to earn, it feels all the more solid for it. And then there's Zoro.

- You notice that whenever you all walk into a room, he'll always take the position or chair next to you, awkwardly stepping in front of Sanji on more than one occasion, or forcing himself into a tight spot rather than create distance between the two of you. He doesn't often strike up conversation first, but when you ask him something about himself he always looks very relieved and happy to have something to talk to you about. If the group has to split up he'll always stick by your side, taking the role of keeping you safe to heart. Your unspoken bodyguard. It gets to the point that the crew adjust to leaving a spot next to you for him to settle into, and never asking him to go out without you. All the while Nami takes great joy in speculating on his behaviour with you, and teasing Zoro for his complete inability to act like a normal human being. Sanji has to lay off his harmless flirting with you after he notices the daggers Zoro's shooting at him, and he's sure one night at a bar he heard him start to draw his sword when he put a hand on your leg.

- It doesn't take many conversations with Zoro, or many chats with Luffy who spends a lot of his time telling you about how wonderful and impressive Zoro is, for you to start finding his strange behavior more than a little flattering. The tall, talented swordsman can't help but soften under your gaze, and you feel yourself slowly leaning closer to him every time he settles at your side, before long finding yourself practically draped against him when the group find themselves at some gaudy bar on the outskirts of a marine base, failing to keep a low profile. Usopp insists on dragging you onto the dancefloor, and thankfully Nami asks Zoro to come dance with her before he has to either sit without you, or volunteer to dance of his own volition. Despite his athleticism, of course he's a terrible dancer, all uncoordinated movements and awkward energy as he fails to copy Usopp's charismatic moves. Taking pity on him, you take his hand in yours, letting him hold you closer as the rest of the group seem to fade in the crowd behind you having seen more than enough of his desperate longing to stick around for this. As Sanji and Usopp slink off to find another drink, Nami and Luffy can't resist keeping just in view so they can watch on as they finally see Zoro smile widely and let his guard down, relaxing against you as the pair of you sway. Nami wants to make a bet on if Zoro finally gets the nerve to say something about his feelings, but after a few months of being her closest friend she decides to just root for you both instead, trying to pull Luffy just far enough away to give you two some much needed privacy.

- As you feel his arms encircle you, a soft sway in his hips that matches yours, his mouth drops open and closed a few times over. It's always hard for him to find the right thing to say to you, but when he has you this close, with your eyes sparkling up at him, it's almost impossible to even think. It's all consuming living on the same ship, his heart jumping in his chest every time someone enters his cabin in case it's you, his feet taking him to stand outside your quarters almost every day just willing himself to knock on the door and finally put words to his devoted actions. He couldn't fight his longing to be near you for even a day, and watching you open up to him and start to inch closer yourself, he can't help but hope that you might be feeling just a drop of the ocean of affection he navigates for you. His eyes focus intensely on yours as he tries again to speak, stumbling over the word 'I' a few times before resigning himself to silence for another night.

- You could see the conflict of fear and hope in his eyes, the man of few words clearly straining to explain things his training had never left room for. He was trying, and you were sure you knew what he was going to say, but you didn't think you could be the one to articulate it for him. That didn't mean you couldn't give him a bit of encouragement.

- Trailing your hands over his arms to settle on his shoulders, you stepped flush with his body, the extra contact enough to stop his gentle sway and turn his whole frame rigid. With the softest smile you could muster you leaned up onto your tiptoes, giving him a moment to pull away before letting your lips press softly to his. It was just for a second. A mere moment of soft, sweet, contact. The kind Zoro had never even let himself imagine because it felt so far out of reach for him. But it happened, and it was perfect. A wide grin spread over his face at your action, finally feeling like he might be able to share his life with someone other than the ghost he carried with him on his hip.

"WAHHOOOOOO!YES YES YES!"" A deafening cheer echoed through the bar, shaking the light fixtures and turning every single head towards your ecstatic captain. Nami looked mortified as Luffy continued to punch the air in celebration of his first mate finally achieving a dream a little less violent than he'd first set out for, his joy for his friend all consuming and without an ounce of tact.

"Luffy! Stop it! We'll leave you to it." Nami had to physically drag him away as you heard the unfamiliar sound of Zoro laughing to himself, the grin across his cheeks only spreading as his focus returned to you. Leaning back in to find your lips again, he whispered,

"What Luffy said."

#writing #fanfiction #requests #one shot #one piece #one piece live action #live action one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x y/n #one piece headcanons #one piece requests #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro headcanons #zoro roronoa x you #roronoa zoro headcanons #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro fluff #roronoa zoro x reader

[marvelous-slut]

Call Back - Chibs Telford x Reader

YALL!! I can’t lie, I am a hoe for this troupe if you can’t tell from my other works. Like the close friends daughter? Idk it makes me feral. I swear to god I don’t have daddy issues, like I have the best dad ever so idk why I’m like this but here’s this work that has been stuck in my drafts for weeks.

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY! Age gaps & smut.

You watched the club members make their way into the club house as you puffed on the joint that rested between your fingers. Chucky had kept you company while you waited for them to come back from a run. As much as you wanted to slap the shit out of Chibs when he come through the door, you held back. Knowing you couldn’t risk Clay finding out that one of his most trusted members had been with his daughter right under his nose. Even if through all the rage you felt right now toward him, you’d never want him to get hurt.

While the MC was on a run, you’d realized you’d forgot many of your things at Chibs house the night before they left. He told you were the extra key was through text for you to get them back, a part of you wished you’d never went in. You found your things and as you did, the phone rung. Before you shut the door to leave, you heard a voice mail being recorded and decided to stay and listen. Sure, maybe it was a little bit of an invasion of privacy but you wanted to know who else needed to talk to him besides the club and you.

“It’s Fi. Fillip, I want our family back. Jimmy is gone, hasn’t been here for months. Haven’t heard from him either. There’s no sense in us stayin’ apart now. Let me know when you get this, please.” Family? What family? The only family you’d known Chibs to have was the MC. You cursed yourself for not listening to Clay and Gemma more when they’d talk about the members and their lives. You’d think the feelings you’d had for Chibs through the years of being around the club would have made your ears perk up when they’d chat about him. Maybe it was a detail you’d heard and didn’t care about, as you’d never met or seen him with a woman, thinking it was an old fling. Chucky filled you in once you brought it up, telling you how Chibs had been married before with a daughter. He didn’t know much more besides that.

“You gotta go home, no need for you to be here.” Clay says, throwing his bag on the pool table. “And put that shit out, this place reeks of pot cause of you.” He walks past you, just like you were a stranger in the house. You didn’t know what happened on the run, but it had to be something tough. Clay typically treated you and Gemma both like dirt on his shoes when a run went bad or an issue come up with the club. It didn’t make the coldness he came off with sting any less. The hurt was plastered on your face, you put your joint out in the ash tray and ran out of the club house in tears. Pushing past Chibs as you did. Jax looks at him, confused as to what happened.

“Think it’s somethin’ with Clay. I’ll go make sure she’s okay.” He says, Jax nods his head and follows the rest into the house. Jax cared about you, sometimes both of you thought he cared more about you than Clay but right now he had to fill his role as VP.

“Love,” He begins to say. You turn around, laughing as you did. Between the new found information of him being married and your fathers cold demeanor toward you, something snapped inside of you.

“Shut up!” You yell at him, he’s confused and shocked as you’d never talked to anyone this way before in your whole life. Even if you had Gemma for a step mom you weren’t quick to yell out in anger or use your fists to resolve issues like her, even sometimes being like a dog that keeps getting beat down makes anyone eventually explode. “Don’t you have a fucking wife to get back to?” You ask, Chibs eyes widen. He’s speechless and you take the opportunity to get in your car and drive off from the club. Wanting to be anywhere but here.

_____

You laid on your bed looking up at the ceiling, unable to think of anything other than Chibs. Even your father snapping at you today didn’t hurt like this did. That you were used to, being lied to by someone you trusted deeply wasn’t. It was 12:42AM, not a word from Chibs or Clay. You were shocked that Gemma hadn’t been crawling up your ass to find out where you were. Typically you’d go over to visit before heading to your house but today you just wanted to be alone. Trying to sleep hadn’t worked out in your favor and you’re forced to lay in bed with only your many racing thoughts. Before anything else can cross your mind, you hear a knock at the door. You grab your pistol, not knowing who would be here at this time of night. When you look through the peep hole, you’re somewhat shocked at who you see.

“What do you want?” You ask, opening the door. A part of you was excited that he was here so the two of you could talk, but the anger in you didn’t want to see him at all.

“I want to talk.” He says, pushing past you into the house. You couldn’t lie, it was kind of hot that he asserted himself like this. It was always sexy when he did it, one of the many reasons you liked him. He sits down on the couch and you sit on the other end, looking at him. He was looking at you, almost like he was waiting on an explanation. You chuckled, slapping your hands on your thighs as you did.

“What?” You ask sharply, he leans back into the cushions, placing his hands on the top of his head.

“I listened to the voicemail that you heard, and deleted it as soon as it was done playin’. I married Fi when I was in Ireland and younger, a man named Jimmy O got me kicked out of the IRA and married Fi. Raised my daughter, Kerrianne.” This was a lot to process right now, your head still swimmy from the tears youd shed through the day. “Also, did this to ma face.” He says, pointing at the scars that ran over his cheeks. You sit, listening to everything he’s saying. It sounds like some kind of TV show, how the hell do you get kicked out of a country unless you’re a terrorist?

“Listen lass, I should have told you about Fi and my Kerrianne, but it just wasn’t something I thought about bringin’ up to ya. You make me forget all the bad shit in my life, when I’m with ya I don’t have to think about any of it.” He moves over to sit beside you, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Fi hasn’t had a hold on me since the day you decided to spill ya drink on me.” You smiled at him and laughed. It was your first night back in Charming after moving away for college, Chibs only faintly remembered you when you were younger but you’d made an impression on him your first night back. Being drunk out of your mind, staggering everywhere and eventually bumping into him and your drink flying all over him. You sigh deeply, looking away from him as you attempt to hold anymore tears from coming out. He turns your head back to him, resting his forehead onto yours.

“I know it’s wrong and I know Clay would put a bullet in ma head if he knew about this, but I love you lass. I can’t help it.” He says, at this moment you don’t need to hear anything else he has to say. You lay your lips onto his and he returns the favor. You feel his rough and calloused hands run up your leg, shivering as the coldness from his rings hits your skin. You let out a soft whimper as you’d missed this familiar feeling of his hands on your body.

“How I’ve missed that noise.” He breathes out, breaking the kiss. You stand up, adjusting your clothes. You don’t know why you did, sooner rather than later they’d be scattered across the floor anyways. You reach a hand out and he accepts, following you to your bedroom. Once the two of you are in, he sheds his kutte and lays it on the desk that sits in your corner. The familiar scent of whiskey and cigarette smoke takes over your senses as he places his lips to your neck, kissing gently and carefully not to leave a mark on your precious skin. Before you knew it, your shorts and underwear were scattered on the ground along with his clothes. You lay down on the bed as he hovers over you, typically you got things rolling by landing on your knees for him but he felt like he needed to make this about you. The beads that hang from his neck are hanging in-front of your face, a sight you’ll never get tired of seeing. You feel his hand sliding to your dripping cunt, he slides in two fingers and you arch your back in pleasure. He would have started off with one, but he knew you’d immediately tell him to add another just like you always did.

“So beautiful.” He says as he’s kissing the inside of your thighs. “So wet.” The kisses, how his fingers curl inside of you, hitting your spot just right it was all enough to send your head spinning. His fingers are buried deep in you, but he’s moving them at such an agonizing pace. Knowing you were going insane and silently begging him to spend up his movements. He leans down to you, placing his lips onto yours. This time it’s messy, almost sloppy but you don’t mind.

“Always takin’ my fingers so well, can you still take this cock just as good love?” It had been a few weeks since the two of you had sex due to him being on the run and you’d longed for this moment since the day he left with the MC for Tacoma. You nodded your head yes, knowing if you tried to speak you’d just embarrass yourself by stammering around. He slides himself into you, your hands tighten around his arms as you feel yourself stretch around him. Once he’s buried himself into you and sees the pleasure across your face, he starts to thrust into you slowly trying to set his pace.

“Fuck.” You manage to moan out, he moves the hair from your face so he can take in your beauty. To the both of you, the sex you had was like a drug. Once never being enough. The first time it happened, he insisted it would be the last as well. The minute he slid himself inside of you, seeing your face and feeling you clench around him he knew he’d made himself a liar. Every-time was sensual, even when it was a quick fuck it was always meaningful.

“You always take me so well, love. Almost like this pussy was made just for me.” He lets out as the grip on your hips tightens. You feel your stomach begin to tighten, your face burning and you know you’re there. He knows it too, pumping into you steadily but harsher. “Be a good girl and let go all over me aye?” The words sent you over the edge, bucking your hips against him to intensify the experience. It sends him over the edge, watching you like you can’t get enough of him and he releases into you. Not worrying wether there was a condom on or not. He pulls himself out, grabbing a towel to help you clean up and get himself situated. You wrap yourself up in a silk robe as you watch him dress, knowing the worst moment of him leaving was coming.

“You know you can stay right? Dad shouldn’t be down this way anytime soon.” You tried your best, hoping he’d give in. He sighs, tightening his belt. He walks over to you, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow love. I have some things to take care of tonight.”

Chibs rides home, it’s almost 3AM and he’s feeling it as his eye lids become heavier and heavier. He silently thanks God when he makes it inside that he didn’t crash his bike into a semi on his way here from the fatigue. He sits on the couch, staring at the phone. He listens to the voicemail from Fiona once more, thinking of her and the life they had. How they had a shot of getting that back. His mind then went to you, he loved you and he couldn’t shake the feeling. He hated to lie to you, but at this moment he didn’t know which path to go down. Telling you the voicemail and feelings for his wife were gone was better than saying “I don’t really know what to do”. He couldn’t bare the thought of hurting you as he’d already seen how that went earlier in the day at the club house.

He didn’t fear anyone, but he knew it would be tricky with you due to Clay. He knew he’d never be able to boast or call you his old lady. Things would be a secret till the day Clay died, and Chibs didn’t like keeping those. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number, praying he’d get the mailbox before he had anymore time to think.

“Hey Fi. It’s Fillip. Just wanted to see if you still wanted to talk.”

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x reader #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford smut #chibs telford imagine #chibs x you #chibs telford #chibs smut #chibs x reader #chibs imagine #chibs sons of anarchy #soa chibs

[scoonsalicious]

4.3 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex

Word Count: 432

Previously On...: On your first date, you confessed to Bucky what you knew about his past, and that you don't blame him for any of it.

A/N: Another short part today, friends.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!\\

After dinner, Bucky had decided to take Major on a walk along the High Line. The night air was warm, unlike the night before, and the walkway was filled with just enough people to feel alive and electric, without feeling overly crowded. 

“Do you want to stop somewhere to get a drink?” he asked her, not wanting the night to end. They  came upon a man playing a saxophone, and stopped for a moment to listen. “I was actually kind of hoping to head home after this,” Major said, resting her cheek on Bucky’s arm. “Oh,” said Bucky, feeling deflated. “Yeah, of course, doll.” Had he done something wrong? 

“Can’t have sex if we’re out getting a drink, can we?” she asked, looking up at him with a seductive smile that sent all the blood rushing straight to his cock.

“Christ, doll.” Bucky put his hands on her hips, turning her so that she was facing him. “I thought you were telling me you were done and you wanted me to drop you off at your place.”

Major slid her hands up along his arms before draping them over his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. “I’ve barely started with you, Sergeant,” she said teasingly, getting up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Bucky felt his knees go weak at the press of her warm, soft lips against his own and took full advantage of the little gasp she let out to send his tongue into her mouth to gently explore. 

His hands held her flush against him, and he knew she could feel the length of his erection pressing into her stomach. He wanted her so badly, it was almost ridiculous. “Doll,” he groaned when Major broke for air, “you’re killing me.”

“Then we better get back to my place so I can resuscitate you with mouth-to-cock,” she offered. Taking his hand, Major turned from him, leading him back toward the way they had come.

They’d only taken a few steps when Bucky pulled her back to him. He had to. “Doll,” he panted as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Major’s neck and was rewarded with a low moan from her mouth, “what if I can’t wait until we get back to your place? What if I have to have you before then?”

“Car?” Major asked, her voice coming out a breathless gasp, and Bucky nearly lost it. With a noise resembling a growl, he picked her up and, tossing her over his shoulder as she let out a squeal of delight, practically raced back to the car.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Sacrifices series: Chapter 3: Face to face with a monster

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 8k

Series Summary: After closing the Darkhold, Wanda struggled to find her place in the word. Until she met you that is. And in you, she found hope. But the past has a way of coming back and she’s faced with an impossible choice once again. A choice that’s going to break her heart. Chapter summary: Finding the layer, doesn't mean she's captured the monster, who was terrorizing the city and Wanda needs to see you at least once, before she has to go back to her hunt, but it seems the sorcerer has plans of his own...

Warning: angst!; emotional trauma; Hurt - No Comfort ; Blood, human sacrifice, gory details of a mutilated body, dark magic... violence, possession, manipulation; That should be it, but in case I missed anything, please let me know. Also, Reader will be making a very small appearance in this chapter, but she has a significant role to play in the future. Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Wanda dropped the piles of books in her trunk, closing it with a loud thud as she looked at the building in the distance. She could see agents coming in and out, carrying objects, while others were escorting people out. Even from afar, she could see those people were scared, worried where they’ll live next, how they’ll afford it. They held their children close, protective, even in their fear. So brave. She knew what it was like to be displaced, to have your whole life ripped from you, to watch it all crumble down in an instant. She knew how much courage it took, to make the next step, and the one after that… She didn’t know how she’ll interview all these people tomorrow. She didn’t know if she’ll be able to carry the burden of their pain and grief as well. Yet, there was no one else to do it. Only she knew what to look for, what to ask… Only she knew how to get the information that even they didn’t know they could have.

The prospect of invading so many minds, of taking on so many lives filled her with pain. All she wanted was to curl in a ball, her head in your lap. She wanted to feel your hands run through her hair, soothing and soft. She wanted to feel you close once more, to have you fully wrapped around her, until she could forget that this ever happened. She wanted peace. She wanted what was stolen from her. But she couldn’t have any of it back, until she defeats this monster first… Even after being in his apartment, after coming so close to him, she had no idea how to find him. He had left no clues as to his next move, or his plans. None that she could see. But the agents will go more thoroughly through his things and have a report for her by tomorrow morning. Perhaps they’ll find something. Until then, she was free to go home and rest. But the compound, with its grey walls felt nothing like the cozy home she had with you. Her room never felt as welcoming as the shared bedroom she had with you. It was all so empty without you. She found no joy in cooking now, since she had no one to share her meals with. She found no joy in walks, since it always reminded her of the days she’d take you and Bella out to different parks to walk and play… Even her sitcoms brought little comfort. Yes, no one got hurt in them, it wasn’t that kind of show. But the real world was nothing like a sitcom. People got hurt every day, they were hungry and poor and lived on streets with nothing but the mercy of strangers to help them face the next day. There were so many in pain. When she remembered that, it was always so hard to fight back the inner voice that told her that she could fix it all. She was the Scarlet Witch after all. She was born to rule the world. It was her birthright. Her destiny. She could make sure that no one got hurt ever again, that no child was ever orphaned, no one ever had to leave their loved ones, no one had to get hurt. She could do that. Wanda could feel the magic rising within her, the raw power of chaos opening up doors for her that were closed to everyone else. She could do anything. She could win this fight with the snap of her fingers. She could erase evil from this world. And they would all thank her for it. Those poor people that she watched get evacuated. They would all be so grateful. They would worship her, just as they were meant to…

Wanda shook her head, blinking a few times, until her eyes focused once more. Red whisps of magic were swirling around her, her blackened fingers moving through the air. She was casting. Not that she knew what. But she knew she needed to get her emotions under control. Keeping the darkness at bay was much harder, when it promised everything she ever wanted. She could have Pietro back. Her boys. And her parents. She could win you back too. If that didn’t work, she could always make you forget she ever left… “No!” She shook her head in defiance. She knew better than to listen to those thoughts. She crawled her way back from an emotional hell, fighting such thoughts. She knew better than to trust them. With a final glance towards the grey building, that seemed to stand like a hungry giant over the people below, she got into her car and drove away. She was done for today. And now she could finally see you. She could finally drive back to your house, she could see you again, hear your voice… She could feel human again for a few minutes. The redhead drove slowly, her windows rolled down, so she could breathe in the fresh air. She needed to get the stench of that place out of her nose, out of her hair and her clothes. She felt dirty. And she almost felt bad for making her way to you, covered in such filth. Then again, it’s not like she was going to knock on your door. Then again… Why shouldn’t she? Why should she deny herself this one thing, this one kindness, when she has sacrificed so much already? What was to stop her from knocking? From walking in… Who could stand in her path, should she choose to pull you in her embrace. Who had the power to stop her? She could kiss you again. Taste you and feel you, like she’s been dreaming of. She could…

“No!” She almost screamed, hitting the breaks. It was just in time too, a pedestrian was crossing the street, standing frozen in fear of her approaching car. She was seconds away from hitting him. She almost didn’t stop. She had barely even seen him. It took the man a moment to get a hold of himself, before he ran the rest of the way to the other end of the street, looking back at her with fearful, yet angry eyes. Wanda couldn’t blame him. But she also couldn’t quite bring herself to care. She could tell that something was wrong. She wasn’t usually like this. Distracted, careless, cold. She didn’t have such dark thoughts either. Not usually. She was much better at controlling them. She studied calming techniques, meditation, she went through every enlightenment course she could find, looking for a way to keep herself in check, but it was especially hard this time. There was just this voice, in the back of her head, a low murmur that had found its way in and just wouldn’t leave her alone. How long has she been hearing it? This voice. Why was it trying to get her to come to you? Except… That’s not quite what it wanted. You were just a suggestion. A means to an end. A way for her to give in. Yes, that’s what it wanted. It wanted her to give in. Wanted her to unleash her powers. Wanted to set the Scarlet Witch free. It wanted her to use that magic inside. It wanted her to let all that chaos loose and never stop.

The honking of cars behind her startled Wanda out of her thoughts and into motion. She sped away from the spot with a heavy heart and she contemplated if she should even come see you tonight. It was dangerous in her state. It was almost reckless, tempting herself like that. Especially with how off she’d been feeling and acting. It would be a mistake… She was once again pulled from her thoughts, when she saw something strange out of the corner of her eye. She was driving past some neighbourhood, all the houses framing the road. But something was wrong. She could feel eyes on her. She could see old ladies in their kitchens, looking out the windows, mothers with strollers, not even looking at where they were going, too busy staring at her… Men, who openly followed her car, as she drove. And then something else. A man with eyes so black, there was no white left in them and a face so sunken in, it looked stolen from a cadaver. A man, who seemed to smile at her, as if seeing an old friend, before he turned away from the road and walked away. Wanda hit the brakes so hard, she almost hit her head on the steering wheel from the force. She felt shaken, like she had witnessed something important, something she should be better at naming. Like she was walking in the dark, her eyes closed, allowing herself to be led. She realized that this place was not her usual route to your house, that she’s never even been here. Just as she realized that whoever this man was, he knew to expect her. He had felt her presence here, known of her arrival, he was watching her, before his eyes ever fell upon her… But how? She pulled the car over and locked it, using her magic to seal the trunk, just to make sure that the books inside wouldn’t “disappear” while she was chasing whatever this was. She had to walk a little, to reach the spot she first saw him, and she looked around nervously to see where he might have went. The eyes of strangers followed every step she took, not even considering to hide their actions, yet none of them approached her. Wanda could almost smell that same sweet, yet repulsive smell she had first felt when she entered the building she was inspecting. The one where He used to live. It was faint, but unmistakable and a strange sense of longing washed over her. A desire to breathe in deeply. To let herself be intoxicated. The voice in her head salivated at the prospect. Hungry.

She decided to ignore it. Pushing back against the low whisper, that told her to give in. Instead she started to walk in the direction she saw him turn. Beyond the first street, the houses started to look poorer, the yards smaller, the windows covered. She could see dogs sometimes, uneasy and nervous, barking in warning, but never really getting close. They were scared. Just like the people who lived here. But scared of whom? The sorcerer? She couldn’t tell. As she walked, the voice in the back of her head, the one she knew to be the witch within, kept warning her. There was danger here. She could feel it. There was darkness too. And the eyes that followed her on the street, seemed to watch her here too. It made her feel surrounded on all sides.

“It’s a trap.” Her inner voice warned. She could feel herself tensing up, readying for a battle, all her senses on high alert. Her magic was just at the tip of her fingers, making her eyes glow that deep scarlet she knew so well, yet there was no one around. At this point she almost hoped someone would try to make a move. Give her an excuse to release all that pent up energy inside, yet no one did. Eventually the street came to a sudden end, a single entrance to a building signifying her only way forward. The door had a padlock and a rusty chain to keep out intruders, runes covering the links in protection. “Pathetic.” Wanda laughed bitterly, the words loud enough to be heard if someone was nearby. That same energy she felt swirling just beneath the surface suddenly came forth, pouring out of her in a burst and shooting forward. It crashed against the building, taking the whole door and parts of the surrounding wall with it, a loud bang ringing in her ears as it fell to the ground. Dust flew everywhere and she waited for it to settle, not wanting to breathe any of it in, before she finally walked forward. The ridiculous chain was still in takt, the runes glowing a dull grey. She laughed humourlessly once more, stepping inside the building and looking around, her steps echoing off the walls. “One chain?” She called out in a challenge. “I can take down the whole building.”

Her voice rang clearly in the large space, that seemed to have been a factory or a storage hanger once, but no response actually came. There was just silence, mixed with that sweet, yet repulsive smell again. “It’s too easy.” Her inner awareness warned, a low hiss in her ear that she felt an almost compulsive need to swat away, even if it was coming entirely from within. Met with no response, Wanda walked further inside, studying the building wearily. In all honesty, she was getting impatient with this whole charade. She didn’t want to be here, playing hide and seek with a psychopath. She wanted to be at the house with you. She wanted you in her arms again, wanted to have you in a tight embrace and breathe you in. Wanted, no craved your warmth against her stiffened, aching muscles. She explored the floor, impatiently walking around, being met with nothing but decay and ruin. There was nothing but old junk, dust and the unmistakable signs of rats and pigeons taking over the building and claiming it as their own. It looked abandoned. But she wouldn’t be here if it really was abandoned, would she? He wouldn’t try to put protective runes, if there wasn’t something important here.

With that in her mind, Wanda summoned her magic, using it to propel herself in the air. From above, Wanda could see that there was nothing special in this room and she moved quietly into the next, passing through a small hallway, only to find a man hunched over a pot, stirring the content inside. He had his back to her and for some reason she felt the need to sneak closer, even though it was impossible for him not to know she was here, considering all the noise she made. “Welcome, Miss Maximoff.” He said, without turning, “I’ve been expecting you.” The greeting startled Wanda for a moment, making her stop mid-flight, before she moved forward, flying over him and the strange liquid he stirred, murky and  filled with bits and pieces of something she couldn’t see clearly enough to name. What she could recognize however was that distinct smell that she felt ever since she left his apartment. That repulsive, yet attractive smell that urged her to breathe it in deeply. That is, until she came closer and Wanda realized that the small objects Wanda was observing, were actually eyes.

“Isn’t it poetic? Stolen eyes, to grant you stolen sight!” He said with a small giggle. “That’s what you used that poor man’s eyes for?” Wanda asked, her voice shaking. She tried not to look at the ugly pot, filled with the murky liquid or to picture the man on the wall, with his empty sockets and a gaping hole in his chest. “Poor man?” The Sorcerer laughed. “He was hardly an innocent.” He hinted. “He liked to watch. In fact it’s all he wanted.” The man continued, words slow, as if explaining to a child. “Do you know how many women they forced, just so he could watch?” The Sorcerer asked, raising his hand, so he could make an obscene gesture, that imitated self-pleasure. It made Wanda sick to her stomach. “So you killed him?” She asked. “How noble.” Her voice was mocking and full of disgust. “I thought it was rather poetic in a way. He liked to watch. And thanks to him, I now see everything.” He said in a smooth voice. “Everything?” Wanda scoffed. “Aren’t you a bit full of yourself?” “I saw you coming.” He retorted in that same calm demeanour. “The all-powerful Scarlet Witch.” He said with a purr. “If you wanted to see me, there are far easier ways.” Wanda replied. She wanted to bait him, wanted to know his plans, while she still had him here. She knew that if it came to a battle, he may not survive. Once she unleashed her powers there was no telling what will happen and she needed to know why he did what he did. Needed to know if there was a greater power behind him. Truly, she needed to know why he did all these terrible acts. Needed to know if he was the monster that he was presenting himself to be. “But this one is rather effective.” He smiled at her. “I saw you look into my apartment. Saw you take things that don’t belong to you.” He accused. “How did you see me there? I was alone.” Wanda narrowed her eyes. “All living things need to eat and drink, Miss Maximoff.” The man explained. “And once they do, they’re mine to use.” “That’s disgusting.” She spat, her hands balling into fists. “Oh, don’t play innocent now. You’ve studied magic. I believe one Agatha Harkness had a very impressive collection on the subject. You’ve read her books. You know there is always a price to be paid.” He spoke patiently, as if he could somehow convince her that he was right. “Well, perhaps not for you…” He trailed off. “With control over pure chaos, you don’t need to pay that price, do you? But the rest of us… We still have to follow the rules.” “Trust me, I’ve paid…” Wanda growled, the control over her emotions fraying. “I’ve lost more than you can imagine.” “Ah, yes, of course.” He nodded slowly. “You and I are kindred spirits in that regard.” “Never compare yourself to me.” Wanda spoke through gritted teeth, the urge to hurt him growing stronger. She could hardly hold herself back, desperate to end all this. She felt so tired.

“But it’s true.” He argued, raising his finger in the air, signalling for her to be patient. “I too lost my parents very young.” He began, taking a step closer to her. “And the world is rarely kind to orphans, Miss Maximoff. Had to go hungry, dressed in the rags others gave away to the orphanage. Had to go to school in them too. Other children are hardly kind to their peers.” He lowered his head for a moment, countless cruelties passing through his memory and flooding Wanda’s thoughts. “But I found an escape.” He continued. “I found that knowledge truly does give you power. I found my first real spell when I was 16. It was just a stupid trick. Turning sugar into salt.” He laughed humourlessly. “It was useless for more than a prank, but it opened my eyes. There was real magic in this world. I knew it now. I had the proof for it. My history teacher was stirring it right into her coffee! So I looked. Researched spells and grimoires, travelled on foot, or hitchhiked to chase down any lead for real magic wielders, looked for amulets and enchanted objects. I built my collection, knowing that one day, I’ll use it to make the world better!” He exclaimed, coming to the culmination of his little speech. “But then I found something better. I found the cult of Salvain. I thought it was nothing more than a cult to a non-existing God, but I went to the forest of perpetual silence, where his followers live. It wasn’t easy, trust me, but I made it there.  Have you ever experienced mind-numbing nothingness, Miss Maximoff? Have you ever been in a place so quiet, that every sound is swallowed, to a point you can’t even scream, because nothing actually reaches your ears? It was horrible. I was lost in there for days, walking aimlessly and praying for death to mercifully take me. I was dehydrated, hungry, never met another soul… And just when I thought I would die, I heard him. I heard his voice.” He said with fire in his eyes, his face betraying real emotion for the first time. “He’s been speaking to me ever since. Helping me. Guiding me. I let him inside me and he saved me. He showed me the way to salvation and he’s going to save everyone.” He explained with what appeared to be genuine excitement and appreciation, his words hanging in the air for a long moment. “You’re actually insane…” Wanda finally spoke, her head tilting to the side. “Oh, but I’m not.” The sorcerer said with a grin. “He’s here.” He said, closing his eyes in bliss. “He knows you.” He whispered teasingly, stepping closer still. He was just a few feet away now, giving Wanda a chance to take a closer look.

Underneath the grey skin and sunken eyes, underneath the painfully thin, bony face, he was actually a young man. So young. More a boy, than a sorcerer and a monster. But there was very little of him left. She could see the corruption of dark magic spreading over him like a disease. It was probably what ate away at his mind. “Don’t you want to speak to him, Miss Maximoff?” He asked, his big eyes fixing her in a predatory way. “He’s been waiting to speak to you, you know.” “How about this…” Wanda started. “You surrender yourself quietly, and I’ll talk to him.” She suggested, hoping to be able to contain him without having to hurt him. Despite his seemingly docile appearance, he had managed to kill several people already. She couldn’t be sure what he was actually capable of. “I won’t resist.” He told her gently, hands raising in the air in a gesture of surrender. “You shouldn’t resist either. Can’t you feel him calling you? He’s been talking to you for a while now.” Wanda thought of saying something sassy in return, but the words died down in her throat, before she could utter them. The sorcerer leaped forward, grasping her head on either side, his long, bony fingers digging into her skin. “Just listen!” He hissed, before a blast of red magic pushed him away from her and he fell to the ground. She heard him gasp from the impact, his right hand clutching his side painfully, but when she looked at his face, he looked amused. “He told me you wouldn’t just hear us out.” The sorcerer said bitterly. “But thankfully, Salvain has a solution for everything.” He giggled “What did you do?” Wanda growled, her teeth bared. This was the confession she was waiting for. His next sacrifice, his next victim, his plans. Once he gave those away, she could be done with all this. “You don’t feel it yet?” He asked with a raised brow. “You have a strong mind. Pushing him away all this time. But even you can’t resist him forever.” “What are you talking about?” She asked, feeling a bit dizzy as a wave of that horrible smell hit her nostrils again and she had to put her hand to her mouth and nose just so she wouldn’t gag. Instead of a response, he waited, circling her now, though he kept a safe distance. His watchful eyes seemed to never leave her and she was once again feeling dizzy from the way he circled her. It was almost like vertigo, but it came with the unpleasant return of that nagging voice in her head, that wanted to seduce her. She could stop all this right now. She could just blast him with her magic. He had attacked her once, had he not? She could claim his death on self-defence and leave all of this behind. No one had to know what happened. There were no witnesses, no cameras…

No! She had to shake the thought away. This wasn’t her way. She could easily immobilize him and let S.H.I.E.L.D deal with him. She didn’t need to hurt him. She was not going to become a killer. But the Scarlet Witch is a killer, a thought flashed through Wanda’s mind. And even though it seemed like it came from within, even though it had her voice, she finally realized that it wasn’t. There was a presence in the back of her mind, a voice that whispered in her ear, disrupting her thoughts. “Now you get it.” The sorcerer smiled, smug and self-satisfied. “How are you doing that?” Wanda hissed at him, fighting the urge to slap his smile away. She could easily knock him down. He seemed so weak, so fragile… It would be so easy to just… Wanda shook the thoughts away again, starting to get angry at this stupid game they were playing. “I’m not doing anything.” The man in front of her responded. “I have no power to influence you.” He told her softly. “Ordinary humans are easy, but you…” He shook his head. “You’re strong. I had to find a way to help you hear Him. ” “What did you do?” Wanda asked again, her voice shaking so much it sounded like a growl. She was losing her patience. Each second that passed between them felt like an eternity, fraying her nerves. Why not just be done with him? Whatever he planned would simply be left unfinished if he were to die… No, he could have accomplices, acolytes… She couldn’t afford to leave this unfinished. Not when so much was at stake. “I only helped you open your mind to him. That’s all.” He said with a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m only helping you see. That’s what he wants as well. For you to see the good he can do in this world.” He said with a look of longing in his eyes. “He can do anything. Give you anything. You just have to let him come through…”

As the sorcerer spoke, Wanda’s vision slowly started to blur. The dizzy feeling she’d been fighting, suddenly overtook her and she felt like she was fainting. Except that wasn’t quite it either. It was more like she was being pulled underwater, supressed so deep within herself that she no longer felt one with her body. She was floating within her subconsciousness, a passenger in her own body. Her clothes were slowly changing, her comfortable pants and soft sweater that she wore suddenly fading and being replaced by her old suit. The boots and tights came first, her magic working its way up, red swirling around her and weaving the tight corset into place, her old cape flowing down her shoulders… Magic weaved itself in the places where the suit had torn, glowing… Then came her crown. It glowed in the same scarlet as her magic, surrounding her in unnatural light that looked both terrifying and regal. She’d never seen herself like that. She always felt like Wanda. But this was the Scarlet Witch. This is the destiny she kept rejecting.

“Why fight it, Wanda? This is who you were meant to be.” A voice creeped up on her, ringing all around her. She turned frantically to look for the source, but there was no one. The sorcerer was still in his spot, staring in awe of her, a deeply unsettling smile on his face. “Show yourself.” She challenged, sounding more scared than she liked, hoping to draw out the voice. “If you want to see me, you’ll have to invite me into your world.” Salvain said in a low voice. “Invite you, huh? So you need someone to let you through.” Wanda retorted, feeling some of her confidence return. Whatever entity this was, he couldn’t move into the world on his own. “Not just anyone, Wanda. I need you. Gorden over there was a good servant. He did as he was told, performed the rituals and cast the spells, but he’s not strong enough. His body is failing. He can’t pierce the veil and let me in.” The voice explained in a monotonous tone, as if talking about the weather and not a life. “But you can.” He said, a trace of a smile in his tone. A trace of urgency. “And what makes you think I will?” Wanda lifted her chin defiantly, her lips trembling in barely-contained anger. “Because I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, Wanda. I can bring back all your friends. I can bring back Vision… You can have your brother back! Your parents too. Your boys! I can make it so they never, ever died. I can make sure they never do again.” He said seductively, his voice bouncing around her skull with all the weight of his promises.

“I tried that!” Wanda hissed, her fists balling at the memory of Westview. “It doesn’t work. It’s not real.” She shook her head. “As powerful as you are, Scarlet Witch, you’ll always need your magic to sustain them. But I… Once I’m in this world, I can bring them back, make them real… I can make anything you want real… You can have your whole family back. I can give you back Vision. Or Y/N. Or even both?” He chuckled. “Both of them, so willing and loving… You’ll want for nothing, Wanda.” “No!” Wanda growled, but to her surprise, her body moved. Her fingers glowed, whisps of magic swirling around them slowly. “It seems your counterpart disagrees.” Salvain purred. “No! You can’t do that!” Wanda’s eyes widened, filled with panic. “I’m not doing anything.” He chimed in, amused. “You are doing this.” He explained. “It’s ok, Wanda. I understand. Aren’t you tired? Aren’t you so utterly exhausted of having to fight for a modicum of peace? For a place in the world? For even a crumb of love… Aren’t you angry? At all the injustice in this world? At the people who turn a blind eye to suffering, to poverty, to strife? You can make it stop! You’ve always had the power to stop it. You can rule this world… But you don’t want that, do you Wanda? I understand… I can help…” “Stop it!” Wanda screamed, her voice bouncing around in her head. She could see more of her magic seeping out of her, now a hurricane of red that swirled around her, building and waiting to be unleashed. The sorcerer, Gorden, was on his knees, awe-stricken at the feet of the Scarlet Witch. His bony face looked even more sickly in the red glow of her power, yet he seemed so at peace. “It’s too late now, Wanda.” Salvain sounded almost smug. “It has already started. Gorden laid the path, now you will open the door and soon… I will walk in the world…” Wanda listened to his words, the terror inside her building at the prospect of what was coming. She had never heard of this entity, had no idea of his powers and if he could truly influence reality the way that he claimed. She hardly knew if that voice in her head was real or if this was all in her head and she was about to unleash her powers upon the world and destroy it. She only knew that she needed to regain her composure and her control over herself if she wanted to stand a chance against him. She focused her thoughts, ignoring his voice and the endless tirade that served no other purpose than to hurt her further and she tried to gain back some of her control, but every time she did, she felt herself being pushed away, her path blocked by an invisible force.

“It’s useless Wanda. There’s nowhere to go…” He chimed in, making her eyes snap open in annoyance. Her power was building, crackling in the air around her like a storm, the pressure in the room growing. If she unleashed that, she would rupture the veil between worlds, creating a passage for him and God only knows what else and she wouldn’t be able to stop any of it. “You’re not in control anymore.” He reminded gleefully. The words bounced around Wanda’s head, heavy and mocking in their finality. The magic that swirled around her now rose to filling the whole warehouse, thundering and waiting to be unleashed. It was almost time and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. She would once again fail. She would fail to protect you, to protect all the innocent people of this world, she would fail herself and her legacy… She would once again be a monster. With that realization Wanda broke down, falling to her knees and letting the tears that she’d been holding back for days finally fall freely. “I’m sorry…” She sobbed, her head bowing down in defeat. “Don’t be sorry, Wanda. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to.” Salvain said with a surprisingly gentle voice, as if talking to a child. “I wasn’t talking to you!” Wanda shouted suddenly, looking up. The Scarlet Witch was now floating, the magic and particles of dust swirling around her. She was getting ready to unleash it all. “I’m sorry I rejected you. I’m sorry I pushed you down and treated you like a disease to be cured. I’m sorry, that I pretended like you weren’t here all this time…” Her words died down into sobs, as she looked through her own eyes, a prisoner of her body now taken over by another. “I’m sorry I made you feel like this all this time.” She whispered. Wanda shook with sobs, her heart beating wildly in her chest, her thoughts a frantic mess that she could hardly distinguish anymore. She thought this would be the end. And selfishly, she regretted that she’ll spend it away from you, when suddenly a red glow illuminated her face and a gentle hand rested under her chin, urging her to look up.

There she was. The Scarlet Witch, in all her glory, was standing above her, her features unreadable. Salvain’s voice had quieted down, pushed aside by the presence of the witch. “I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispered again, her face wet with tears. She wasn’t sure how this moment was possible, both of them face to face, as her body continued to float into the air, magic crackling and threatening to be unleashed at any second, but as she looked at the face of the Scarlet Witch, she didn’t care. “I should have never neglected you.” She whispered at the witch, her green eyes full of regret. “It’s not just me you were hurting.” The witch said gently, her tone a stark contrast to her stronger, more defined features. “This rift between us, hurts us both. We were never meant to be separate. You and I are one, Wanda. The divide leaves vulnerable.” She explained, her strong hands helping Wanda to her feet. “We can only do this together.” “But…” Wanda looked confused. She was still in the air, or her body was, summoning more magic, the walls of the warehouse groining with the force of it. “We are meant to rule the world, Wanda. It is our destiny.” The witch reminded seriously. “Do you really think I’ll give away our throne?” She tilted her head, a sly smile starting to play on her lips. “So you have a plan.” Wanda questioned, an eyebrow rising. “No… We have a plan.” The witch corrected, her smile growing. She offered Wanda one of her hands, their palms touching. The feeling was electrifying. Wanda felt a surge of power pass through her, making her gasp. Than the Scarlet witch moved closer, their faces so close together, their noses almost touching and a warmth spread over her, a kind of relief that made her muscles relax. She allowed the witch even closer, her counterparts free hand wrapping around her waist in a gentle, confident motion. The softness in the other woman startled Wanda. She always saw the witch as ruthless and merciless… Thought of her rough and unforgiving. She always resented her for it as well. “Those were the traits you needed.” The witch suddenly said, a knowing look in her eyes, when she saw Wanda’s confused expression. “That’s not all that I am.” She said, her eyes softening once more.

She guided Wanda even closer, their bodies making contact and making Wanda shiver. The witch’s presence gave her this inexplicable sense of surety. Then calmness. And with it, a deep sense of belonging. And then a longing for more. Her hands wrapped around the witch’s shoulders, as if they were partners in a dance, strangely close and intimate in the bubble of privacy the Scarlet Witch had made within their mind. Their breathing synched together, their eyes locked and for a moment Wanda had the strangest urge to kiss the other woman, to run her hands through her hair and down her back and she felt that desire reflected in the features so identical to hers. On instinct she closed her eyes, lips parting slowly as she leaned in, their foreheads touching for a brief moment, before she tried leaning in even further, only to find the space empty. Wanda opened her eyes to find herself alone and she blinked a few times, questioning if this wasn’t just a figment of her imagination, before she felt that same sense of surety wash over her, her mind opening up and expanding to accept the witch within herself and allow her to merge, just as they were always meant to. Her mind’s eye suddenly opened to the universe as the knowledge and power of the Scarlet Witch bled into her, connecting them, until they were whole. As they merged, Wanda felt more powerful, more alive, more confident than she ever had been in her life. She could finally sense the real, raw strength of chaos magic and she opened her eyes to find herself back into her body, the center of a hurricane of magic that swirled around her and threatened to tear down the whole building.

Without wasting too much time, she focussed her strength, guiding that magic into a single point in the floor, feeling the vail between our world and the next start to bend under her strength. The ground shook and groaned, but gave way to her will, a portal starting to open, rimmed in scarlet. Beneath her Gorden had recovered from his stupor, stopped staring at her in awe and moved closer to the portal that formed, arms open in welcome to the God he had been serving all this time. Wanda sensed the approach of something powerful, something monstrous, as it neared the portal she was holding open and she braced herself for the moment he would pass. He paused some distance from the portal, the world on the other end black and filled with nothingness, before he surged through it. He passed smoothly, landing on the dirty floor of the warehouse, the portal closing shut behind him. Dazed by the strength the journey had taken, he didn’t seem to notice the trap of the Scarlet Witch and started to stand, feeling carried by weak, almost trembling legs. He looked around, winded, breathless, his eyes landing on Wanda, who used her powers to land on the floor softly, her red eyes staring at him. “You made the right choice, Wanda.” He started to say, his voice coming out rough and distorted. It sounded nothing like him, he realized and with a distrustful gaze, started to look down at himself.

That’s when he saw it. The skinny legs, frail frame, bony fingers connected to dry, vainy hands… And a whisper… Except this time it wasn’t the distant voice of a far-away acolyte, but a voice inside his own head. The voice of Gorden Shaw… Salvain felt himself smothered in Gordon’s body, so weak, so frail… A mortal shell too fragile to contain his strength. He had but a fraction of his abilities here and he wanted to free himself from the uncomfortable confines this body provided, but he seemed unable to leave, rattling inside his cage like a wild animal, before his eyes landed once again on Wanda. “How dare you!?” Salvain roared, realization painting Gorden’s bony face. “Release me, at once!” He demanded, his voice a growl. “I’m not holding you.” Wanda smirked. “You cannot exist in this realm without a body and yours didn’t make the trip… I’m afraid you and Gordon will have to share.” “You tricked me!” He exclaimed, enraged. “I did nothing of the sort.” Wanda retorted calmly. “Creating a passage isn’t easy and the veil has many layers. I lifted enough for your consciousness to pass through, but your body… Alas, that was left behind.” Wanda explained, summoning her magic, so she could show Salvain the image of his abandoned body, a mindless heap on the ground where he had passed through the portal. “If you don’t return back to it soon, I’m afraid it would die…” Wanda said with a mocking pout on her lips, the whisps of her magic fading. “You foolish girl!” Salvain growled, low and dangerous, his hands balling into fists. “You should have done this the easy way.” He snarled at her. Before Wanda could realize what he meant, a ball of energy formed into Gorden’s hand, now Salvain’s, and it shot toward her, barely giving her time to block, before it hit her straight in the chest. Another followed, than another, magic raining down on her as he gave her no time to do much more than protect herself from his attack. He groaned and grunted with the effort of it, breathing shallow. “If you would not welcome me, Scarlet Witch, you will fear me!” He exclaimed, sending more balls of energy her way, before he used his abilities to lift her off her feet and fling her across the room. Wanda tried to cushion her landing against a wall, but still groaned when she fell on the floor, feeling several bruises form on her knees, but she pushed herself to stand upright, summoning her own powers and throwing a few energy blasts his way. He blocked them, teeth bared, grunting from the unfamiliar feeling of being inside another’s body. In retaliation he looked around, lifting pieces of metal, wood and brick into the air and sending them flying toward Wanda, who tried to dodge them, but hissed when a sharp nail flew passed her, tearing the flesh in her forearm.

“Aren’t you tired of this charade, Wanda?” He asked with a note of challenge. “Pretending to care about all those ridiculous mortals out there? Pretending to be moral, when I know what’s inside you. You wanted to kill Gorden. You want to kill him still. Be done with all this, so you can walk away and find your little girlfriend. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Why not just go do that? Or maybe I’ll go find her, once I’m done with you. Show her some real horrors.” He smiled, crooked and ugly. The mention of you and the clear threat he made had Wanda’s blood boiling. Gordon’s features, if sickly before, had now turned wild and monstrous, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth wet, like a rabid animal, cheeks even more hollow now. Salvain’s presence and the energy it took to sustain him, as well as the magic he used to fight Wanda clearly took their toll and the thought of this thing making its way to you made her sick to her stomach. “I would never let that happen!” She spat, gathering her strength and summoning her magic. She levitated in the air, the scarlet whisps of her magic surrounding her once more as she rose higher and higher, her form almost reaching the ceiling, the ground once again trembling, as she made it all crash down.

She watched the rubble start to fall, the ceiling and walls of the warehouse collapsing, chunks of concrete and metal piling over one another, a cloud of dust and a thundering crash sounding around her as she watched Gorden’s body disappear from view. A part of her regretted the unfortunate end of his life. A part of her recognized his suffering and the inner turmoil he must have felt. Another part of her felt glad. Felt relieved he was gone… Or at least she thought he was. Very few could survive the collapse of a building. But S.H.I.E.L.D would have to confirm that. She saw their black cars from the air even now, saw a few helicopters heading in her direction as well, some government, but some of it was the press. Of course, reporters would want to capture this, even if they weren’t sure what they were filming. It would be golden none the less. Even she knew that. After all, the Scarlet Witch was hovering in the air, a collapsed building on the ground… She’d be on the news and the first page of every newspaper and magazine for weeks! Wanda was about to float down, try to give them less of a show, when a sudden rumble sounded from the rubble and a deep feeling of dread settled over her. An unnerving thought crept its way to her, causing a shiver to pass through her body. The confirmation of her fear came in the form of a chunk of concreate that flew towards her head and narrowly missed her. But it wasn’t what scared her most. What she feared came after.   In the center of the ruined warehouse stood Salvain, his arms outstretched as more rubble started to float in the air. He seemed to be taking the whole building, forming a hurricane of dust, bricks, metal and wood, as well as anything left inside. And when that was all gone, he started to tear pieces of earth and rock too. “You should have walked away, little witch.” He shouted over the sound of wind, releasing his hold on the flying objects and hurling them in the air. Some were aimed at Wanda, but some flew astray, passing close to the helicopters that now hovered over the scene as well and it took everything in her to try and stop them all, a magical barrier forming in front of her and the nearby helicopters, but she still saw pieces of rubble falling to the ground, scaring curious onlookers, who had gathered to watch the fight, despite S.H.I.E.L.D’s efforts to keep people away.

In the chaos of it, she felt torn. There were so many innocents around. So many people who would get hurt, should she allow him to get the upper hand. The carnage seemed to amuse him, his lips outstretched into a sickly grin. She couldn’t protect everyone. Not like this. She could hear shouting, the cries of women and children as they ran from the falling debris, helicopters whirring around her… It was all too much.                                              *             *             * With a flick of Wanda’s wrist, a wave of magic surged through the air and although your TV could hardly do it any justice, you could see that it was a powerful blast. A deafening silence came first, the panicked sounds of people fading into utter stillness. Then came a red glow, seemingly bursting from Wanda’s chest and expanding, dipping the whole world into a scarlet hew. You watched with bated breath, your eyes glued to the screen of your TV, your heart hammering in your chest. This was the first time you’d seen Wanda since she left, and the apparent danger she was in did very little to help your anxiety. You could recognize the old warehouse, not too far from where you lived and the thought that she was so close, yet so far, made it feel hard to breathe. Then came a third wave of magic. This one however was a dull grey. It shot through the air in a cluster, like the pellets of a shotgun and everything you saw, was the way they found their target, right in Wanda’s chest, before everything went dark.

#lesbian #writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch #sacrifices #magic

[riayawrites]

Something Different ~

Pairing: Archeron!reader x Azriel

Summary~ When reader gets dropped into the cauldron they emerge as something different and ancient, As they struggle with fae life and their new body she learns that maybe she isn't alone in her battles.

Content Warning: mentions of trauma, depression, ed, fluff and trauma-bonding

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I knew my life was over the moment me and my sisters were forced out of our newly made home by brutal force, and dragged into another land.

The first few minutes of the cauldron were somewhat... peaceful. A stark contrast to the screams of my sisters and her faerie companions. The dark muddled water seemed to become light and airy and warm as I forcefully was thrown into the ancient, deceitful thing. Not like I decided to put up much of a fight anyways, at that moment I chose to let the cauldron invade my body and mind. It's not like it mattered anyways. As the cauldron sensed my relent towards its actions it decided to make things worse; ten-fold. A sharp piercing pain ripped its way through my torn and battered nightgown and all through my back, it was truly a pain like no other, the sounds of bone breaking and skin tearing sent me over and I lost conscience in a blink of an eye.

"She's been out for so long.." I distinctly hear as I awaken from my week - no probably month slumber since the cauldron. I open my eyes and squint from the warm beaming sun on my skin and the soft cotton sheets on the rather large bed I am resting on. I turn my head and open my mouth to speak yet no words come out.

A while goes by of me staring at the ceiling in silence before a figure comes into sight. "I see you are up miss." I turn my head to the side to see a tall woman with skin as dark as the night sky, with ears pointed and long with cascading black hair. She was truly a sight. I finally say my first word "Where am I.." I ask in my dazed confusion and slight emptiness. "You are in High Lord Rhysand's town house in the Night Court miss." "Your sisters and the others are all downstairs if you wish to join them I will help you ready." I take heed of the mention of my sisters and a great wave of relief washes over me when I realize all 3 of my sisters are safe. Ive always been the caring and nourishing one of all my sisters, being the 2nd eldest daughter I stepped in and took on a role of a mother in the absence of our own. My duties all arranged from making sure our old cabin stayed together by cooking and cleaning and even taking desperate jobs in town to make a pitiful income for my father and sisters to survive. In my spare time I loved to bake, but that was before we lost our fortune. My main hobby became singing as that was a way to express myself without it costing.

I gently arise from the bed with the help of Nuala- as she calls herself. My first steps in months to the bathing area and I realize something is off.. My steps glide almost gracefully and I seem to be, lighter and smoother with my motions. As I get to the bathroom I take a look in a full length mirror in my bathing quarters as I gasp as I see what is staring back at me.

I look in the mirror to see a beautiful fae woman with pointed ears and locks of long healthy hair that seemed to grow down to my lower back. I take a closer look at my body just to admire it, I've never been a bone skinny girl even when we were poor, always having curves on my hips and slight hourglass figure and fuller breasts compared to the women in my village. But now those features are gracefully implicated and only seem to heighten my new body. I hear Nuala compliment me and start to run water for me to get into and wash.

After a few minutes of an annoying bath with painful reminders of the cauldron, I'm faced with tons of beautiful dresses sparkling and shining each one better than the other. I choose a shimmering black off the shoulder long sleeve mermaid dress that was comfortable to walk in and has soft material. I sit at the large vanity whilst Nuala brushes my long wavy hair and pins it to the side, letting it freely fall down my sides. I take one final look in the mirror and mentally prepare myself for whats awaiting down at dinner.

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

My chest feels heavy and my steps dragged as I walk down the many steps of the town house, taking my sweet time to admire my sisters many paintings carefully hung on the walls of the house. I hear chatter and laughs coming from the dining area as I make my way down. I step into the light of the dining area, an aura of glitter and.. light? seeping from my pores and around me. All conversation stops and heads turn my way while I assess the room.

There's my sister, Feyre and her husband Rhysand. A smile graces the corner of my mouth before I drop it and look at everyone else. It's a beautiful fae woman with curled blonde hair and striking blue eyes near Cassian; the war general. I believe her name is "Morrigan". I see a pair of captivating dark blue eyes staring at me almost assessing me in a way that makes me avert my eyes from his gaze.

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AN- sorry to end like this lol first fic, planning on making more parts with her power

#azriel shadowsinger #az x reader #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #elain archeron #rhysand #cassian #amren acotar

[2012wannabe]

6. Dubcon

cw/tw: no outbreak, stepmom!abby, virgin/innocent reader, grooming, mommy kink

wc: 1378

an: is Abby a lesbian? Yes. Is she married to a man in this au? Also yes but just for useless plot purposes.

Walking through the door you sighed upon seeing a very particular set of keys on the ring. There was only one set, letting you know that your dad was out while your new stepmom Abby was home. You walked up the stairs, attempting to bypass your dad's room and not see her but to your annoyance you heard her voice calling you.

“How was your day sweetie?”

“Uh it was good.” You said shortly looking up her. She was different than all the other women your dad dated, but just personality wise but appearance wise. She was 5’8 which isn’t very tall, but coming from a very short family where the tallest man is 5’7 it was a big difference. She also had the most muscle mass you had ever seen on a woman. Her thighs were bigger than your head and her biceps bulged with every movement of her arms. Her personality matched her appearance, being strong willed and dominant while still being generous and kind to others.

“I’m glad to hear,” she said before pausing.

“How would you like to watch a movie, get in some bonding time?” She asked pursing her lips. You kind of liked that she made the effort to hang out with you even though you had just turned 18 and would be leaving your childhood home soon.

“Uh sure, let me just get settled.” You said, walking down the hall to your room. Entering the room, you plopped your things on your bed, slipped off your shoes and changed into one of your sleep shirts and a pair of shorts that barely covered your thighs.

“What movie are we watching?” You called.

“Some kind of wonderful! It was my favorite movie when I was your age.” She called back excitedly. Putting on your slippers, you went back down the hall and entered your dads room.

“When is my dad getting home?”

“He said he’s working until 6 so around 7.” She said popping in the DVD. You sat on the bed with her and being so close you started to realize just how much bigger she was. You felt tiny and that you paled in comparison to her. Instead of feeling intimated though, your brain felt kind of fuzzy. Her nature of causal touches, rubbing your arm, resting her hand on your back only made it worse. Your eyes trailed from the screen up at her, taking in the beauty of her features. You always thought she was pretty but never really studied her. Her eyes met yours and you quickly looked away embarrassed. Abby gave a laugh.

“You know,” she started.

“I realize that it must be weird to have a new step mom so late in your life but I do want us to keep the really good relationship we are starting have. You can take all the time you need but I want you to know that you can always come to me when you’re feeling down or just need some extra support.” Your face flushed and the moment made you weirdly emotional. You never really had any semblance of a normal mom, a good one. She smiled warmly and let you hug her, your arms wrapped around her middle. She kissed you on the forehead and you both cuddled together. Her strong arms held you close and still fighting off your emotions, you felt her hands slide up to patch of skin right underneath your breasts.

Another reason you had been so surprised when your dad brought her home is that she defied many stereotypes and roles that you grew up believing. Granted you were extremely sheltered and were homeschooled your entire life but it was a surprise nonetheless. Just like that moment, a swirl on confusion formed in your brain. Her fingers gently brushed the underside of your breasts and you heard her take a breath before saying,

“You trust me right?” You nodded and she continued to speak.

“How you do feel about me making you feel extra special?” Her fingers reached the hem of your sleep shirt and started to slip underneath.

“What are you doing?” She responded by ghosting the pads of her fingers over your nipples, tracing circles around them and twisting them. You instantly felt it in your cunt wetness pooling in your panties. She cupped your breasts, massaging the fat.

“Mmm, that’s it baby.” She cooed as you leaned into her moaning slightly.

“You can take off my shirt.” You whispered warning a grin from Abby. She slid the shirt off of you tossing it the side and pressing light kisses to your breasts.

“You’re perfect.”

“You like them?”

“I love them. You’re gorgeous.” She confirmed latching her mouth on one of your nipples while squeezing the other breast in her other hand. She swirled her tongue around it and it hardened allowing her to suck harder.

“Oh my god, Abby!” You moaned. She switched breasts and the other opposite treatment.

“I’ll give you more if you ask nicely.” She teased.

“Please Abby,” you begged.

“Please what?”

“You know…” you trailed off embarrassed.

“Make me feel nice.” You whispered, barely audible.

“Alright sweetheart,” she giggled.

“But remember this is our special secret, no one but us will ever know.”

“Ok.” Abby looked at you expectantly like she was waiting for you to finish your sentence. You looked at her confused,

“Ok…” she repeated, mouthing ‘mommy’ afterward.

“Ok mommy.” You said, the same feeling stirring in your cunt.

“Can mommy take off your shorts?” You nodded yes and she cooed slipping them off revealing a tiny black thong.

“Look how beautiful.” She mused. You yelped as you suddenly felt her hand collide with your ass slapping it.

“God.” Abby groaned. The movie still played quietly in the back long forgotten. She pushed you against the bed laying down on your back with your legs to the side and your hips up. She left the bed and retrieved something you couldn’t see before returning and showing off a strap on. An 8 inch black strap on dildo with a girth that instilled fear in your chest. You flushed with panic as she crawled on the bed.

“What’s that for?” She giggled,

“I’m going to show you how much I love you. Now, open your legs.”

“Wait, you’re going to put in there?” You asked.

“Yes, baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s going to feel amazing baby I promise.”

“What if it doesn’t fit?” She laughed again.

“Of course it will fit. Just try to relax.” She said, letting her fingers drop down to your pussy.

“Gotta warm you up first.” She traced the the outline of your pussy letting your wetness soak your fingers.

“You’re so pretty.” She murmured before slowly pushing in one of fingers. Your body twitched and grabbed her forearm. The intrusion felt strange but not totally bad just a sting. She moved her finger around exploring and let a second finger work its way in.

“You’re so tight. Let it hurt a bit, it’ll feel so much better in just a moment.” She breathed. She lined up her strap with your pussy and pushed it in stretching you out. You gasped and curled forward groaning.

“Shhh it’s ok baby girl. Mommy’s got you, mommy’s got you.” She continued thrusting in and out.

“Hurts.”

“It’s ok, it’s gonna feel good I promise.” Abby cooed. The pain turned to pleasure as you started to gasp. Your grip on her tightened and you looked at her wildly for reassurance as you started to moan. Her thrusts got quicker and she bottomed out against your cervix. You let out another languid moan and your eyes rolled back.

“Ah wait, I have to pee. I have to pee-“ you said, your panic returning.

“You don’t have pee i promise.” She said.

“Let go, it’s gonna ok. Mommy promises.” Abby’s thrusts started to stutter and you go, squirting onto the bed sheets. You immediately started to apologize and she was quick to correct you.

“It’s perfectly normal, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.” Your eyes softly closed and she kissed your lips softly.

“Can I clean you up?” You nodded, watching her take a rag and wipe between your thighs.

“You’re such a good girl.”

#eliwrites #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #mommy kink #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x female reader #muscle mommy abby #abby anderson x you #abby anderson blurb #stepmom #abby anderson smut

[mmmkaybye]

Why Zutara Shippers are Wrong (JK, You can ship who you want lol)

(Although, I don't care if you do actually ship Zutara, that's your prerogative, I'm just waiting for better arguments for the relationship and for people to stop negatively viewing Kataang)

First of all, I'm premising this with the fact that I don't think that ATLA should have ended with Katara and Aang kissing. I think it would have been fine to just end with a slightly more intimate-than-friends hug/cuddle. I would have personally preferred that two children who survived being literal child soldiers get the chance to be kids before they delve into a more mature relationship with one another, but they didn't exactly have adults of the modern culture there to guide them a different way, now did they?

BUT! I am a firm believer that Zuko and Katara would never have worked out romantically and that Katara and Aang's relationship 1. makes more sense and 2. is actually healthier in the scope of trauma and trauma responses.

First of all, I don't understand how the creators of ATLA managed to craft literally the MOST traumatic childhood backstory ever with incredible detail and nuance and everyone just fricking glosses over it like WTF??? Not to mention, the creators did an amazing job diversifying trauma responses to similar trauma experiences.

Let's discuss Katara's childhood trauma, which was not healed magically after a little side quest with Zuko. Katara carries immense survivor's guilt over her mother's murder. Katara understands very well how and why her mother was brutally murdered in their family home. She has been deeply aware of this since the day of her mother's murder - and she fully blames herself. Katara understands that a fire nation soldier killed her mother, but he killed her because of Katara - she said so herself. Then, Katara, who was the last person to interact with her mother, discovers her mother's body, and it is insinuated that Katara might have even witnessed her mother's brutal execution-style murder. This forever alters Katara down to her core personality traits. Katara is 'bossy' because of her trauma. I work with kids from pre-k through graduating american high school. It's pretty normal for girls to do what I call 'mothering' to their peers and to kids younger than them. It often is described as being 'bossy' and some girls are in fact bossy, but for the most part, they are roleplaying a caretaker mentality as they are most familiar with. In Katara's deep guilt of being the reason her mother was murdered, her trauma response was burden herself with the role of mother. This is further antagonized when her father leaves with the rest of the adult men to fight against the Fire Nation. He might've well as died too due to lack of communication for many years. Sokka does not allow Katara to mother him for very long, so she doesn't get to have a chance to work through her personal trauma response to her grief because she has no one to safely and consistently direct these mothering tendencies towards. The other children in the village are not orphans, their mothers are most likely very alive and very involved with them, so they would be temporary fillers at best. Sokka has stepped into the role of village man and definitely would reject Katara's mothering, which often led to tension between the siblings. Toph had the very reaction to Katara's mothering tendencies as I expect a young Sokka had to them. He lost his mother, too, he didn't want a replacement, nor did he want to lose his sister to the role of mother.

Zuko, in the same fashion as Sokka, had a mother who he loved, and lost, and was not looking to replace. Zuko's mother was also a topic that is deeply rooted in a lot of Zuko's personal trauma as well. Zuko did not get to spend much time with Katara for her mothering tendencies to be extended over him, but he definitely would have aggressively rejected them as Katara's trauma response would have negatively triggered his own. Their trauma would have deeply and negatively impacted any romantic relationship they could have developed because of how they would react to each other. Their relationship would have crashed and burned very quickly.

On top of that. Katara would have never left the South Pole indefinitely - that is her home, and she consistently returned to it throughout her life. That is an effect of her cultural upbringing. Zuko couldn't leave the Fire Nation, and as we saw in the graphic novels that followed, Zuko's personal welfare suffered greatly because his whole world was upended and now he was responsible for the one nation that didn't get peace at the end of the war. It's incredibly naive and slightly delusional for people to desperately push romantic wishes upon a sixteen-year-old boy who was burdened with the responsibility of healing an entire nation, one that fought him every step of the way in many aspects. He did not have the emotional energy to expend upon a frivolous relationship. That's why Mai and he broke up, not because they didn't love each other, but because Zuko simply could not have personal relationships until his reign and nation had stabilized - that alone would take upwards of 10 years. Plus, Zuko may have helped others work through parts of their trauma, but he had to address his trauma too, which we saw the beginnings of during the graphic novels. Simply put, by the end of ATLA and all of the graphic novels, Zuko was in no place emotionally, mentally, and even physically and politically to seek out a relationship that was meaningful and healthy. And I know that Zuko would have changed the tradition of political marriage, at the very least he deserves to have married for love at the end of everything he suffered through. Zuko is a great opportunity to normalize waiting until you're in your mid-twenties -thirties before seeking out romantic relationships. Logistically speaking, I don't think there would have been much opportunity for romantic feelings to develop between the two of them. I especially don't think Katara would have easily been able to live in the Fire Nation because the Fire Nation was directly responsible for her trauma, and that is also why I don't think she would have every pursued a relationship with a Fire Nation man, Zuko or not.

Now onto Aang. Everyone always jumps onto this idea that Katara and Aang had a very mother-son relationship - which is wrong. Aang comes from a culture that literally does not have mother and fatherhood. There are NO mothers and fathers in the Air Nomad Nation. Sure, kids had birth parents, but parenthood was not part of their culture, nor did Aang ever seek out that kind of relationship. Aang may have been kid-like, but he was the most adultified kid in the group. He was incredibly independent and confident in his ability to travel internationally by himself at 12. Katara had never thought to leave the South Pole to seek out a waterbending master in the North Pole because she didn't have that confidence or training. The Air Nomads thrived on a mentorship-based village raising of children. So, Aang never thought of Katara as his mother. He literally couldn't, because he had no scope of reference for such a relationship, same with fatherhood. He never had a parental relationship with Monk Gyasto. It was more like a fun uncle mentorship. I think that's why everyone thinks Aang was a bad father, but he was an outlier in the Air Nomad nation because there was no Air Nomad nation when he had children. The village that raised the children in his culture was gone. He was actually a fairly decent father and the two older children probably felt bitter because Tenzin was the only other air bender in existence so it obviously Aang is going to spend a lot of one on one time with Tenzin in the scope of mentoring Tenzin in the way of Air Nomad culture. Aang was not an absentee father like how many people assumed from the very one-sided and brief explanation given by the two older, jaded siblings. Was he perfect? No, he literally had no clue how to be a father. Did he and Tenzin leave to get milk and never come back? Also no. That being said, Aang was the only individual who was comfortable with Katara mothering him, he never felt threatened or overburdened by her trauma response, which allowed for Katara to genuinely work through her grief and mature out of the extreme bossy mothering we first saw in book one. If you pay attention, yes Katara does retain that 'bossy' kind of personality, but that was permanent fixture due to her childhood trauma and a little bit of cultural influence as well. I think, if Katara had never been traumatized, she would have always leaned towards a very soothing and nuturing type of personality, which we began to see in the middle of book three. Her bossiness/mothering trauma response gradually lessened the longer she 'mothered' Aang. Once again, neither of the two saw each other as Mother-son. They were simple too close in age and Aang also had the added sense of duty-boundness due to being the Avatar. Katara was always going to be a caretaker archetype personality, trauma or no, and that simply wasn't the type of person that Zuko would lean towards for a romantic relationship due to his own personal upbringing and culture. Aang is a much more gentle and playfully empathetic personality that works with Katara's firm care and sassy disposition.

In the graphic novels, I personally saw a great deal of healing and maturation in Katara in relation to her trauma. She was less mothering towards Aang, too, and I think that had a lot to do with the fact that Aang matured a lot as well and the change in their once platonic relationship to a more romantic-leaning one. Was their relationship perfect? No, they are kids who survived a horrific war and many many trauma-inducing situations. However, once Katara fully leaned away from the mothering habit, we get to see that Aang allows Katara to relax and be more playful. She genuinely was just happy with Aang. He pushed her to be a little more child-like and to have child-like fun even as they grew up into adulthood. Katara helped Aang mature and face a lot of adult burdens that were placed child.

In the end, Katara and Aang always brought out the best in each other. Katara and Zuko didn't have enough time together in ATLA to develop an individual relationship outside of the group. There simply isn't enough time outside of their little side-quest in which Katara and Zuko interact solo- which was definitely NOT Katara's best, and in fact was Katara lashing out aggressively towards people who loved and cared for her and she them. Zuko was also not his 'best' in that time either as he was also being triggered emotionally. In fact, during ATLA, there's way too much negative tension between the two of them that leads to really intense disagreements and emotional outbursts more often than not until Katara begrudgingly accepts Zuko into the group, they don't even positively interact until Ember Island which is what, two weeks? She's not exactly nice when she pretty much demands him to help her hunt down the man that murdered her mother. Zuko is all gung-ho about vengeance too. Of course, they both have a lesson learning moment, but that episode cemented in my brain that Aang is the better partner for Katara than Zuko. Aang, once again the most mature in the Gaang, fight me on this, has a deep, empathetic understanding of the world, he doesn't do a great job trying to explain to Katara, but I think that's because no one in the Gaang understands how Appa is not just an air bison, and Aang never views Appa as an air bison like how everyone else in ATLA do. To everyone else, Appa's an animal, but to Aang and Aang's culture that is deeply offensive, Appa is an individual with emotions and value outside of what he can offer the group in terms of transportation and that's never really explicitly clarified to the audience either (because despite being a kid's cartoon, the creators knew their audience well and did not treat the audience like we are stupid and can in fact infer and read between the lines). If Katara had killed that pathetic worm of a man, it would have absolutely destroyed her as a person. She would not have been able to heal from her trauma and would probably suffer even more trauma and guilt. This side-quest was a plot point to lead up to the big debate of killing Ozai, and not many, in fact I don't know if anyone has talked about that fact. I have no doubt that Zuko has probably killed people, at the very least, he's deeply desensitized to people dying as I think he probably at some point did experience or witness some form of warfare battle before he began chasing Aang down.

Once again, I don't really care if you do ship Katara and Zuko. In fact, I think that's a-okay. But, with the Netflix live action adaptation's take on the Secret Tunnel scene, I've seen a lot of people speculating and even hoping for it to become canon and there have even been some opinions of Kataang that have resurfaced that really rub me the wrong way because it feels like many individuals are just looking at the surface level of ATLA. There's so much nuance to each individual character in terms of culture, societal norms, age and gender, and most importantly, trauma and trauma responses. The creators did an amazing job world building and story telling that a lot of what I put up in my opinion in preference for Kataang over Zutara is information that I inferred from the show and graphic novels due to my personal experience and education in familial relationships and childhood trauma. My thoughts are not the end all be all to this debate, nor do I think they should be, I've seen some really solid opinions in favor of Zutara that I can understand and somewhat agree with. I think a lot of those details and moments that people look to as indicators of romance between Katara and Zuko were remnants of the creators' previous intention, but I think that the change to Aang and Katara as end game was logistically and realistically more accurate. I never thought that Katara and Zuko were meant to be, and I always struggled to put to words as to why until I had pursued my psych studies in college that focused on child development, childhood trauma, and marriage and family counselling. I think that the creators instinctually were seeing the red flags that would have occurred naturally within Zutara and changed course accordingly. There were just a lot of details and nuances that I noticed personally that I wished more people would discuss.

Anyways, thank you for coming to my TedTalk, I'd love to hear some of your opinions about this.

#ATLA #avatar the last airbender #atla netflix #katara #zuko #aang #trauma #childhood trauma #kataang #zutara #katara x zuko #katara x aang #long post #debate

[stealingpotatoes]

And I'll Go With You

Summary: After finding out about their long lost family, the Naberries invite Luke & Leia to the family home for a traditional Naboo dinner. Leia’s feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all.

(sequel to my pooja meets the twins comic that got too long (nearly 3k) and turned into a fic instead of a 2nd comic!!) -- [also on ao3!]

--

It wasn’t like Luke had been eating badly these past few months. Ever since the Rebellion had become the New Republic, rations had been swapped out for consistent, mostly-hearty meals. There were still battlefields and shoddy basecamps, of course, where the food primarily consisted of ration packs and whatever the base cooks could make with what they’d managed to get through battle lines. Yet those were slowly becoming the exception and not the rule, especially as Luke fell further into the ancient role of Jedi diplomat, helping Leia convince systems to join the New Republic. Battles in politics tended to mean fancy meals with too many people and food Luke couldn’t even begin to understand. Even moreso for him than most; politicians and the like were more than happy to offer their finest meals to the Jedi master who’d blown up the Death Star and supposedly defeated the Emperor. 

But none of that fine cheffery compared to the simple stomach-filling warmth of a home-cooked meal -- especially not a home-cooked meal prepared by his grandmother (he had one of those now!) for him, his sister, and their entire family. 

Luke looked around the Naberrie dining room, joy bubbling in his chest and stomach at the warmly-lit sight. Empty dishes and plates stretched across the long table, that had earlier been filled with all kinds of Naboo dishes Luke had never seen or tried before. At either head of the table, his grandparents sat laughing at something Ryoo, sitting by their grandmother, had just said. At Luke’s side, Leia was enraptured in a quiet conversation with their cousin and her old colleague, Pooja, that Luke imagined he wouldn’t understand even if he was listening. His aunt and uncle, Sola and Darred, were the only ones not seated, circling around the table and dilligently clearing up the wreckage of the family meal.

“Are you sure you don't want some help with that?” Luke asked Sola as she piled up another plate opposite him.  

“Really Luke, it’s alright,” she replied with a kind smile.

Luke half expected an assertion that he was their guest to follow, but none came. The blank space left a sunny feeling in his chest; he wasn’t a guest here, he was family. Completely and utterly welcome, as if he’d been a part of that family his whole life, and not as of a few days ago. 

He was so wrapped up in the small joy that he almost didn’t notice Leia’s quiet excuse me, before she gently placed her napkin down on the table and gracefully got up to leave the dining room. 

Luke doubted the Naberries thought anything of it -- Leia’s years of politics made her far too good at hiding her emotions to let them do otherwise. She was so good that even the strongest of force users might not have been able to sense it through her mental and expressive shields. But Luke was not any old strong force user; he was Leia's twin, and so her secret turmoil blared in his head like a whirring attack alarm. 

He cleared his throat and excused himself too, not sticking around to field anyone’s quick questions (though knowing he should’ve). He wound through the love-filled house, following his senses and memory of the tour they’d been given earlier to reach the starlike presence of his sister. He passed through only two short hallways, both’s walls were filled to the brim with memories he’d never known. Holos of his young cousins, of Sola and Darred on their wedding, and of a brown-haired woman Luke wished he’d known as mom. He’d learn every story behind each of the pictures and keepsakes, some day. 

He reached the back garden door -- a light, wooden thing, as ornately simple as the rest of the house -- and stepped into the early night. 

The garden was hardly cold, but the sudden coolness compared to the hearth-warmth of the house bit at Luke. He stared up for a moment. Three moons hung white in the sky, painting the white house walls and the green of the garden in blueish moonlight. It was strange how it reminded him of home and yet was so different. Tatooine too had three moons, though all it did was turn golden sand a deep, colourless blue or silver. Never the friendly blue of Naboo’s.

Shaking himself from the thought, he easily spotted his sister standing cross-armed in front of a neat, flowery maybe-vegetable patch. Her white, Naboo-style dress with puffy sleeves and a many-layered skirt stood out against the dark of the moonlit garden as if it were a small, fourth moon itself. 

Leia had bought the dress shortly before their diplomatic trip to Naboo for any formal dinners they would be invited to as a part of their Republic negotiations with the Naboo. It was, apparently, very strategically important to acknowledge the culture of those you wished to diplomatise with -- even if Luke and his poor galactic fashion knowledge thought the dress looked no different from any of her Alderaanian dresses. He supposed it was lucky he got to wear his Jedi robes everywhere. 

“Hey,” Luke started, stepping up beside her, careful not to get his boots too close to the pristine flowers. 

Leia smiled up at him, almost hiding her sorrowful expression. “Hi.” 

She glanced back at the windows of the house, where warm, orange light diffused out across the neatly cut lawn, not quite reaching their night-blue patch of the garden. “You didn’t need to come out here for me,” she half-apologised. “It’s cold, you should get back to dinner.” 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Leia opened her mouth, but quickly closed it, as if realising I’m fine was a useless excuse to your brother who could sense your emotions. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“You’re my sister, yes, I do,” Luke smiled with a slight shake of his head. After a breath, e leaned down slightly, trying to better enter Leia’s pointed-down sightline. “Hey, if you want to leave, I’m sure we can come up with some urgent New Republic excuse.” 

Leia was the far better liar, but Luke had the added advantage of being one of the only Jedi in the galaxy. If Leia didn’t come up with some political excuse, Luke could always make something up about the force that nobody could refute. 

Luke shrugged. “We’ve been here half the day, anyway, I’m sure they won’t take it personally if we miss one last course. There’ll be other--” 

“No, no, I want to stay,” Leia shook her head with a sure furrow of her brow. “Really, I just needed some air. I don’t-- I can’t leave this.” 

Luke nodded, hoping she didn’t notice how thankful he was that he didn’t have to go. 

“It’s a nice night to be out.”

“Mm. Naboo’s temperature is quite agreeable,” Leia said, her voice growing politically hollow. 

What were they doing, talking about the weather like they were at some stunted party? Luke wanted to say Leia, we both know I’m bad at this not-talking-about-feelings thing, please just tell me what’s on your mind, but he knew his sister well enough to know a brute-force question like that wouldn’t get much out of her. He needed to wait and let her talk on her own terms. So Luke left a gentle space in the air between them, one that Leia could fill when she was ready. Only quiet night birds and the faint rustle of garden trees were so brave as to interrupt it. 

“Maybe I came out here for more than air…” Leia mumbled, predictably rewarding the silence after some long moments. “It's only that they’re so… I don’t know how to say this.” 

“It’s okay, you can say whatever it is,” he managed through the slight panic entering his mind. Did Leia not like their new family? But they were so nice! They were perfect! 

Clearly noticing the worry knotted in his brow, Leia held her hands up. “No, no, it’s nothing against them. It’s barely even about them as people, it’s just…” 

Luke only watched for her continuation, aware all he could do was try to project his own comfort through the force.

Leia forced a deep breath in and out, clenching her eyes shut for a short moment. “When I lost Alderaan, I lost everyone. I lost my father, my mother-- anyone I’d so much as briefly considered family. I had nobody to call my own. Nobody. And I thought that was going to be it, forever. I thought that I would never have any family ever again.” 

“But then,” a smile crept onto Leia’s lips as she gave Luke a short glance, “you came blasting into my life and you told me about everything, and suddenly I had family-- I had a brother!”

“Blasting is a bit of a strong word…”

Leia levelled him a raised eyebrow. “Is there a weaker word you think fits better, then?”

Luke huffed out a chuckle, remembering how quickly their first meeting had devolved into a blaster fight and a narrow escape of death. “I guess blasting works.”

Leia let out a quiet sigh, her presence brightening. “And suddenly it’s not just you, it’s our grandparents, our aunt, our uncle, our cousins, and it’s all…” Leia trailed off. 

Luke nodded slowly. 

Finding the Naberries had been very different for the two of them, but only now did he appreciate the true difference in what their new family meant for them both. 

He’d had little cause to think of what new family meant to the two of them before, given how easily she accepted Luke as her brother, and how resolutely she refused to accept Vader as her father. Luke had thought it was so simple; that it was just Luke was good in her eyes, Vader was not. He saw now that it ran deeper than just Vader’s evil. 

Luke loved his aunt and uncle, but they’d never claimed to be his parents. They had always left room for Luke to long for a mother and father, to dream of the people they never spoke about. He had despised the reality of his father at first, but come to accept that while Vader was not the father he dreamed of, he was Luke’s father nonetheless. However awkwardly he had filled that lifelong gap.

To Leia, Vader was not only a villain, but an invasive species. A predator, encroaching on the still-sore memory of Bail and Breha Organa. He could not be her father; that position belonged solely and permanently to Bail and nobody else. Vader would only ever be relegated to a ‘birth father’ -- and that was only on days that Leia felt particularly merciful. 

The Naberries, on the other hand, didn’t stand to replace anyone. Padmé Amidala, their mother (force, that was weird to think), may have stood too close to Breha’s position -- but Luke suppose finding out your birth mother was your childhood hero and a founder of the rebellion was very different to finding out your parent was the Emperor’s genocidal attack dog. And even then, she was gone now. She could play little part other than a puzzle piece and a forgotten memory; she did not threaten to take a dead parent's place like the living Vader had once done. 

The rest of the Naberries were purely happy additions to their family. There was no limit to how many aunts and uncles and cousins you would have, and neither twin had ever had grandparents before. Their family had become so full and so big with only a chance meeting of Leia’s old Senate colleague Pooja (and some intervention from an unsettling resourceful woman named Sabé). It had all happened so fast, and it was so wonderful… and so easily overwhelming. 

Even Luke struggled to get his mind over all the sudden expansions to his once-thought-gone family, and his grief over two family members and strange hermit mentor was hardly comparable Leia’s planet-sized grief. He knew it wasn’t, because he had felt the difference for himself, every time she saw a certain plant or a heard a certain phrase. Such little things would bombard their force-bond with the soul-crushing grief that had hit Leia out of seeming nowhere. 

Luke stretched the force out to Leia now, focusing on her shields as uninvasively as he could. Her heavy mantle of grief lay near-dormant, at least, but it was still present in the back of her mind. 

Leia glanced up at him from the flowers, perhaps sensing his search despite her lack of training. If she did, she made no comment. 

Luke put his flesh hand on her shoulder. 

Leia delicately rested her own hand on it, bringing her eyes to firmly meet his. “I am okay. It’s just… it’s…” Leia -- the princess whose educated words never faltered, the general who could muster the greatest of speeches out of thin air -- stuttered.

“It’s a lot to deal with,” Luke offered. 

Leia gave him a nod. 

“But you're not dealing with it alone,” he said, turning around to face Leia in full. After a moment of quiet staring up, she turned to face him too. “I know this isn't all quite the same for me. I know it’s… a different kind of difficult. Still, I’m here. I’m always here for you. And I’m sure all of them are too,” Luke said with a nod back to the house. 

Leia hummed in agreement-acknowledgement.

“I don't think they're expecting you -- expecting either of us -- to be completely and suddenly okay with this. I’m sure it’s almost as much for them as it is for us. But they're our family. We may not know each other very well yet, but they already love us so much.”

Luke knew it so certainly; he could sense all the Naberries’ love for the twins, as strong as the heat of the suns on a Tatooine noon. Mottled by cloudy grief in places, but always oh-so present. It radiated off each of them in waves whenever Luke and Leia were around. 

“I think I’m just trying to say it’s okay,” Luke concluded, losing steam in his speech. “However you’re feeling now, it’s gonna be okay.” 

Silence drifted between them, entirely comfortable and nothing like the eager, questioning one Luke had left earlier.

“Thank you,” Leia smiled finally.

Luke shook his head. “It’s nothing.” 

“No, really, thank you. I don’t think I say it enough, but I love you Luke. I’m-- thank you. For being my brother.” 

Before Luke could even think of replying, Leia crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his robes and shoving her face into his shoulder. Luke caved into the hug, pulling his arms tight around his sister in return. 

“I love you too,” he replied softly. 

They stayed like that for a good few moments, fused together like twin stars, basking in each other’s presence as if they truly were so. The galaxy seemed so utterly at peace in the garden around their tight-armed cradling, like it had never faced a single war or fight, like Luke and Leia had always been one and never been ripped apart by the tragedy of circumstance. 

Luke sensed Pooja’s presence -- joyous, if a little timid -- before he heard her treading over the grass towards him and his twin. The two of them pulled apart to face Pooja at the same time, arms still half-pressed together. 

Pooja came to a slow stop as they did, standing still in the bright square of warm window-light. It painted the the cream of her dress a loving orange and made her half-up curls near-glow with its source behind her. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt…” she started serenely, half-smiling at her cousins standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the blue near-dark. 

Leia shook her head, moving towards Pooja. “We were just about to come back in anyway.” 

Pooja brightened, bringing her hands to an almost-clap. “Perfect timing! I came to tell you Grandma’s about to serve up dessert. It’s cake, her speciality.” 

“Sounds wonderful,” Luke’s mouth watered at the thought of more of Jobal Naberrie’s cooking, despite the protests from his already-full stomach. 

“Not as wonderful as it tastes. Now come on!” Pooja over-gestured. “If we don't hurry, Ryoo will have eaten all of it before we get there!”

Leia laughed with all the gentle warmth of the Naboo sun. “We’re coming Pooja, don't worry!”

They followed their hurried cousin back to the nearby door, forming a line as they reached the portico of the entrance.

“I'm so happy we found you both,” Pooja admitted quietly as she held the door open for her cousins. The two of them stepped back into gentle embrace of the family home, something sweet hanging in the warm air. 

Leia gave Luke a quick glance before she turned to Pooja; “I’m happy we found you too.”

#luke skywalker #leia organa #pooja naberrie #sola naberrie #jobal naberrie #ruwee naberrie #ryoo naberrie #darred naberrie #star wars #potes wrotes #skywalker twins #space twins #skywalkers & naberries

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Infatuation Rewritten - Chapter 1

Joe Goldberg x Reader (ft. Love Quinn)

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Summary: Love's longtime friend moves back to LA. Fortunately, Joe (Will) never had too much trouble adapting (Season 2).

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (we're all adults here), Joe actually loses his mind a little at the end.

Now for something nobody expected! The long-awaited rewrite for Infatuation... I have 40 pages of this, by the way. I'd like for *some* of them to see the light of day... and so I've told myself: If I wait for it to be perfect, It'll never be posted. I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts! xoxo Ona

My eyes roamed the list of names by the front door of the apartment complex. There were about four total, so finding yours was the easiest part. The hardest step came in the form of mustering up the courage to press the buzzer. But, was it really a trouble with courage? The more I thought, as my finger hovered over the button, the more I began to consider it to be uncertainty.

I pause and reach my other hand into my pocket. My fingers slide across the screen of your phone, and I remind myself why I'm here. Simply put, I’m here to give you your phone back. I found it on the passenger’s seat of my car and almost thought to tell Love… Instantly, a part of me knew she would’ve pried it from my grip to give to you herself – and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for us to speak again, this time unmonitored by her perceptive gaze and sharp ears… and without the alcohol in your system.

Last night, you clung to Love as she touched you tenderly, playing the role of your dutiful sober saviour. She hosted a dinner and she invited her friends. One of them was you.

“A good friend,” She had called you. The last she’d spoken to you was ten years ago, and I guess I hadn’t realized good friends stay out of reach for a decade at a time. It didn’t matter how much time had split you two apart, though, because Love embraced you with a warm smile and open arms. There wasn’t any malice, no judgement either. She was just happy to have you back in her life. When you got too drunk to take public transportation, Love tried to coax you into staying the night. You wouldn’t budge, even with a slipping tongue, fluttering eyes, and a head too heavy to stay upright. So she compromised: you let her coddle you, sober you up just enough, and I drove you home. It wasn’t even that late, Love just couldn't stop pouring you wine after wine after wine. You seemed like you needed it, though. Tense as you were. Pent up little thing.

“What’s your relationship like with Love?” I asked, feeling rather bold with your inebriated self. The image of her hand resting on your thigh flashed in my mind. I laughed. “She hadn’t mentioned you until you’d moved back to LA. She practically can't shut up about you now.”

You shifted in your seat like a child. No position in my car seemed comfortable for you, and you had made it more than obvious.

“She’s a good friend.” You responded and looked out the window like it meant something. Love had said the same thing — I believed you both — but I felt as though you were withholding something else from the conversation. The annoying bell on your purse jingles as you tuck it closer to your side.

“You two seem close. Should I be concerned?” I then asked teasingly, laughing to fill the awkward tension of a silent car ride. I wanted to spark something in you, but you brushed it off as you curled your arms around your waist.

“I think I had too much to drink…” I glanced at you, and I was suddenly nervous. Your coat was askew, hanging off your shoulders. I knew you were drunk, but your direct announcement sounded to me as a warning.

“Tell me if you need to throw up, okay?” You slowly nodded before slotting your forehead against the cool car window. We remained like that until you got home, choosing to stumble your way for a block to feel a semblance of privacy – but I watched you walk up those steps. I knew your building, and you were still too fucked up to realize.

I pull your phone out of my pocket and look it over one more time. My thumb runs over the plastic case before turning it around and looking at myself in the black reflection.

Your phone is dead. Has been since I found it. None of my chargers fit into the port, unsurprisingly. It’s one of those phones where the keyboard slides out, for Pete's sake. Your phone is more than a few generations old. A brick. I chewed my fingers raw trying anything I could to get it started again – I wanted to pry, really. I’ll be honest with you here, I really wanted this glimpse into your personal affairs.

I wondered, exasperatedly, about what you were hiding behind this screen. Clutching it tighter into my palm, I lift my free hand and press the buzzer.

A few long moments after the sound, I hear a click.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Will –” I begin to say, ready to explain myself in the same manner I had rehearsed at home, eating breakfast, in the car, and on my way up the steps. However, you cut me off immediately.

“Do you have my phone?”

My heart skips a beat and I’m momentarily stunned. I blink a few times before speaking.

“Yeah, actually.” I replied. “I found it on the passenger seat this morning, I guess I didn't see it when I got home last night.”

“I’m going to buzz you in.” Perfect.

After hearing the buzzer, the door clicked. I made my way inside. The stairs were wooden and creaky, the walls showing obvious water damage, and the lights hummed obnoxiously. Obviously, none of this was of your doing. Your landlord just didn’t care.

Your door’s paint was chipping off, revealing the cracked wooden layer underneath, but the rusted numbers on your door somehow looked worse. I knocked.

I heard the shuffling of your feet from behind the door before it opened. When your head peeked out, you gave me a smile and extended your hand.

I momentarily look at it, thinking… Right. I drop your phone into your awaiting palm. I almost thought you wanted me to reach out as well. That would’ve been too good, right?

“May I use your bathroom?” I ask.

Your mouth opens momentarily, as you look away and off to the side. There’s nothing there, you’re simply thinking it through and disappearing into your head again.

“Sure.” You then reply, reluctantly scooting back and giving me my first glimpse into your apartment.

If only you knew how ecstatic I was to slip through the crack of your front door. My heart thumps excitedly, as I waste no time looking around. By the door sits a coat hanger with a few pairs of shoes around its feet.

“Should I take off my boots?” I ask.

“Yeah, actually. I’d appreciate it.”

I untie the laces and slip them off my feet. Then, just as I drop them by the coat hanger, you beckon me to follow.

Your apartment is a fair size, with one large space making up both the kitchen and the living room. Right of the front door, a short hallway leads us to a room. As you continue past the door, I slow myself and look to my left. Your hallway has a little louvred closet, and I can’t help but reach out and open it. There’s nothing exciting inside, only white bed sheets.

“The bathroom is over here.” I suddenly hear you say from within the bedroom. I close the closet and hurry along, hesitantly making my way into your room.

I examine the layout of your furniture: your bed is made, your dresser tucked away in the corner, your desk by the window, and your small bookcase right by its side. I take another look toward your window: It overlooks the front of the building, I think. I want to look around more, but I’ve already entered an uncomfortable silence through this simple observation… you’re bound to find it weird. Hell, you’re already finding it weird – my being here – if your reluctance to me using your bathroom is anything to go by.

“Thanks.” I tell you, nodding in your direction and scooting by to enter the bathroom. I peer over my shoulder, however, and take another peek into your bedroom before shutting the door.

In the bathroom, I made my way to the toilet and listened to your shuffling from the other side of the door. I lifted the seat without paying much attention, and stilled when I heard you leave the bedroom entirely. I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, but I wasn’t lying when I said I needed to use it.

I waited a moment, lowered the toilet seat again, and didn’t bother flushing or washing my hands. The sound could set you off that I was finished, and I definitely wasn’t finished. I needed the opportunity to snoop just a tad bit more. I unlocked and creaked the bathroom door open, observing the quiet room with more attention than I had before.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I leave the door open. My head snaps in the direction of your bedroom door and I pleasantly find it shut from the rest of your apartment. You’re making this too easy. I make my way around quietly, being careful with my steps as I approach your nightstand with a familiar object glinting in the natural sunlight of the room: your phone, on its charger. When I press the button on its side, the logo appears as it powers on.

I take the time needed for the phone to boot up as an excuse to look about your room. The bookcase, which I had only glanced at before, takes shape infront of me. My hand drifts along the spines of the books… and I feel unsatisfied. You have a small selection of kitschy modern romance novels. My judging eyes shift to your dresser, the framed pictures sitting on top catching my attention. I don't recognize anyone, but a weird feeling washes over me. You’re not in any of these pictures. I feel a… disconnection… from the room. My eyes move elsewhere and I catch sight of a few unopened cardboard boxes against the wall near the bedroom door. They’re folded. Unused. I wonder briefly as I look back down to your phone. It’s open.

Unlocking it was easy, no password. You know, the good thing about an older cellphone model is how easy it is to just… get in. I flip your phone over and pop the back right off. I slide the chip out of my pocket and right into place. Once everything is back in its place, I unlock your phone and fully install the hardware. As much as I would like to start snooping about your phone now, I close it and set it back down on your nightstand. I make my way back into the bathroom, pulling my phone out all the while. I open the freshly installed app and bite at my lip as I see the device sync up. Done.

I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and make my way out of the bedroom. When I step back into your living room kitchen, you’re seated at the short island, your back to the small living room.

“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom,” I say, making my way back to the front door. You swivel the chair as I walk by and watch me duck for my boots.

“Thanks for bringing me my phone. I was almost going to head out to Anavrin–”

“Oh, I don’t work Saturdays. You would’ve missed me entirely.” I say all matter-of-factly, like an asshole. You shrink.

“Noted.”

As I loop the laces around, I look up at you. Your brows knit together and you avert your eyes from me. I watch you for another moment, smiling to myself. You’re nervous.

“What’re all the boxes for?” I ask, looking around the apartment. They’re a little sprawled out everywhere, but most of them are still folded up. I chew my cheek as I wonder – are you packing up to leave already? You just got here not even a week ago. Is that what’s gotten you so nervous? Cause I caught you? I bite my tongue and choose to rephrase my thoughts. “Still unpacking?”

“No, It’s… complicated.” You respond.

I nod my head and stand. Your eyes fleet to me for a second before drawing away. Is it me, Y/N? Am I making you nervous?

“Thank you again, for my phone.” You mumble, drifting off somewhere. I smile wide, and huff. You’re not a threat. A pest, likely. But not a threat.

“Yeah, no problem.”

I’m out the door not a moment later, spinning my keys while on the way to my car.

—

Back at my apartment, I notice the door’s unlocked.

I'm cautious as I walk through the threshold, peering ahead only to notice Love behind the counter.

“Love, I didn’t expect you to break into my apartment.” I tease, taking off my boots and shedding my jacket.

“I thought you’d be home,” she whines. “Besides, it’s not breaking in when you’ve got a key.”

I make my way into the kitchen, to her side, and slip my hands around her waist. She turns her head to look at me, a big smile on her face.

“Where were you?” She mumbles, still looking down at the counter.

“I went over to Y/N’s apartment,” I began, rolling the hem of her shirt between my fingers. “She forgot her phone in my car last night.” I kiss her shoulder.

“Mmh,” Love hums. “That was nice of you.”

I look over her shoulder, noticing the restaurant brochures infront of her.

“What were you doing here?”

“Looking for something to order. I don’t really want to cook again tonight.”

I lift my hands off her hips, placing them on either side of the counter. I press forward, and slide one of the menus into view.

“This one seems good.” I whisper, inconsiderate of what I’m pointing to. I’ve got one thing on my mind right now, and it isn’t the brochures.

Catching onto my carelessness, Love turns around and faces me. She tilts her head and observes my face for a moment before sliding her arms around my neck.

“How did it go?” Love suddenly inquires about us again.

“It went well,” I tell her, keeping it short. Still, she pries.

“Tell me more,”

“Well, she showed me to her bathroom,” I look around, as though I was recalling the few minutes I stood in your apartment. I’ll keep the snooping to myself. “Aaand, that’s about it.”

Love thins her lip. She’s pensive for a moment. She thinks, and I watch her grapple with her thoughts as she looks about the kitchen. She clears her throat before speaking.

“Will,” She starts, her hand taps my chest and I watch it circle around. “I wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t important, but… can you do me a huge favour?”

My hands find Love’s face, cupping her cheeks, and pressing her forehead to mine. My eyes search hers, and I pout.

“Anything for you,” I tell her. Anything.

“Forty has this thing tomorrow… I didn’t think ahead, and my plans are jumbled. But, this is really important.”

For a second, my stomach drops. I try not to let the horror show on my face as I’m convinced she’s about to glue me to Forty’s side for a day. But she continues.

“Y/N needs help clearing the apartment,” My eyes narrow, and I nod as I continue to listen. “You see… Will. It isn’t really my place to say this, but I thought you should know her mom passed away a few months ago. She’s been trying to sort through the estate, and they finally gave her the green light to clear out her old apartment. I can’t be there to help.”

Love’s hands slide over mine, cupping my fingers as I cup her cheeks.

“Are you free sometime tomorrow? Would you be able to help her out?”

With this revelation, the framed pictures sitting on the dresser make sense.

“I mean… yeah. I can do that.”

Love lights up at my response, hopping up for an intimate kiss. My hands fall to her ass, but she pulls away too soon. Always too soon.

“Thank you, Will,” She grins, tapping my chest again. “I’ll let her know.”

As Love pulls out her phone, I watch her tap away at the screen.

“You know, that entire complex looks unlivable. The place might have a rodent problem, too.” I say as she hits send.

“I know! I told her she could stay with me,” Love leans her head against my chest with a frustrated huff, slipping her phone onto the counter.

“You both already spend so many afternoons together,” I begin, sliding her head up to look at me. My fingers brush her cheek, and my next words come out hushed. “If she was around any more, I’d never have you to myself.”

Her eyes flutter as my hands brush baby hairs out of her face. I hum, and lean in for another kiss.

“Will,” she starts, pressing her palm into my chest. She pushes me back, and I let her. “I’m not in the mood right now. Is that alright?”

I purse my lips… a little agitated, but I understand. I’m in the mood, but I understand. She doesn’t want to have sex, she wants to talk about you.

“Of course, Love,” I kiss her cheek. “Some other time.”

With a smile, she returns her attention to those stupid brochures. I agree to whatever she wants, whatever she’s in the mood for. I always do.

Once dinner’s sorted, we pair it with a movie on my tv. We cuddle, and it’s nice. During an intimate scene, a quiet one with rustling bedsheets, Love decides to speak.

“I’m glad you’re getting along well with Y/N.” She says with a hum, rubbing her face into my chest. I grunt when her hand squeezes my knee. “She appreciates it too, I know it. She doesn’t know many people in the city anymore.”

I tear my eyes away from the sex on tv to look Love in the eyes.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have that thing with Forty. Someone seems a little forgetful tonight” I laugh and apologize, scolding myself. Of course… Tomorrow. I did forget. She turns her attention back to the movie. When I reluctantly return my own attention to the screen, I can’t help but scrutinise everything I see. Love seems pleased, watching the protagonist and her girlfriend lounge after what felt like the most drawn-out fucking I’d ever witnessed on tv. She’s probably thinking to herself: what a nice couple, happy, in love, and all tuckered out. But I feel differently. I see something I’m missing. We could be them, Love and I. But, instead of being wrapped in each other with more to do than to SAY, I think about the brick phone, I think about the lunch dates, I think about the selfishness of only reaching out when things became convenient, and I think about YOU. I think about the rust on your door, think about your dead mom, I think about how Love wants me to help you pack her things – like I’m some tool to be borrowed and Love’s the kind neighbour willing to lend – and I think about how Love touches you and I can’t help but wish I could crawl into your skin and rip you up from the inside.

The bell on your bag rings in my ears, jingling as you tap it over, and over again. Should I feel threatened by you? Because I do, even when everything about you proves to me you’re no threat at all. You’re meek, small, pathetic. Despite it all, you’ve stepped into my yard, trampled the very bushes I’ve trimmed and watered to perfection, and made yourself cozy against the love of my life. And, like a call to battle, the bell stirs something in me.

But you’re innocent, I cry in my head. You’re not Peach. You’re no evil mastermind, and stepping into someone else’s yard doesn’t mean much when you’re a helpless rabbit. Your mom is dead, you’re grieving. I think about you, in my car, curled in on yourself, skin exposed. Scared. I grit my teeth at the thought.

When Love departs, just after the movie ends, I spend some time catching up on your messages. That’s all I can really do, actually. With such an old model, your system doesn’t allow access to anything, anywhere, anytime. Just the text messages. I scroll to find your mention of me dropping by earlier.

‘Left my phone in Will’s car. He dropped it off.’

‘He’s the best <3’ Love responded.

About twenty minutes after that, Love let you know I’m replacing her tomorrow.

‘We can reschedule.’ You tried, but Love tells you the plans are already made. You can’t run from this. Neither can I.

I recline on my couch, huffing as I read as far as your messages go. I couldn’t get the older logs but anything you send from here on out, I have access to. When the late hours of the night finally catch up to me, I look out my window at the flickering street lights, and I head to bed.

#joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg #love quinn #love quinn x reader #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere joe goldberg #Joe Goldberg x Love Quinn

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

The Song We Are Drawn Towards; Azul Ashengrotto

A song rests in the heart, calling out to the one who completes the harmony. Their match pulls at them, as the moon does the tide.

Main Character: Azul Ashengrotto

Supporting Roles: Mama Ashengrotto, Jade Leech & Floyd Leech

Content: Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match instead), gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort but comfort is only at the end, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic and that was done on purpose, wet cat Azul, 99% genuine fic 1% crack (actual math said 0.002%)

Content Warning: mentions of injury, brief mention of divorce (Mama Ashengrotto), self-doubt/self-loathing on Azul's part, mention of an age gap but there isn't one

Word Count: 5.5 K

Author's Note: Please do not repost my works to other websites or into AI software. I may or may not write parts for other characters; if you want to be tagged for those please let me know. I am not sorry for the ending. I switch between third and second-person point of view, if that bothers you, sorry. Spell check done by Grammarly. I wrote this in like one or two days, help.

Jade's Story | Floyd's Story

Once a year, during the week of the largest full moon, merfolk are forced out of the ocean at night, their aquatic halves melting into legs. The process itself was not a pleasant one, often described as stepping on broken glass for the entire duration. This annual week-long nightly excursion typically starts the year in which the merperson turns sixteen, corresponding with the age at which the mermaid made a deal with the Sea Witch to go on land and try to be with her soul match.

Some considered it as a blessing, as a chance to find their soul match beyond the waters they knew, to find the singer of the silent song that rested in their hearts. To find the person that they felt magnetically drawn towards, no matter the distance that separated them, like that of the moon and the tides. 

Others, however, viewed it as a curse, as there was a catch alongside the pain of walking. If their soul match happens to not be a merperson, one of the parties would have to leave their old life behind in order to be with the other. The surface dweller would have to trade their legs for fins, or the mer would have to trade their aquatic half for legs. Permanently. Such a steep price had some mers taking drastic measures to avoid that fate, not wanting to be forced to leave the life they knew behind or wanting their soul match to leave theirs, even if it meant they would both live their happiest years together. In the search for answers, some were able to concoct an elixir that would stop the transformation for that year. Unfortunately, there was also a drawback to it as well. If a mer were to take it for three years in a row, they would no longer be able to go on land, even with the aid of potions. They would be bound to the sea for their life. It is easy enough to avoid, but it was still tiresome.

But what of mers already living on land? What happens to them during this week? 

For those mers who call the land their home, they revert back to their merform during sunlight hours, regardless of how many potions or spells they may try. They only get their legs back when the sun sets and the moon rises. It is more of an inconvenience than anything else. 

And this cycle of returning to land would continue until they found their soul match, forged a bond with another, their match forged a bond with another or their match died. But they would feel when their match died the instant it happened, as the pull would stop and their inner song faded into silence. And for those who had lost their match, they were never the same again. It was considered as one of the most painful experiences a mer could live through.

Mers would be able to feel their soul match and hear their song by their sixth birthday. If they did not, it was often seen as a bad omen, as it was an extremely rare occurrence. And looks of pity and sadness were given when the child disclosed this information, but no one outside of their family would answer their questions.

… ... ...

Azul could not fall asleep, no matter how many songs his mother sang, or how many stories she told him. The little cecaelia stayed awake, his tentacles subconsciously mussing with blankets.

“Mama, what did it feel like for you?” He murmured, trying and failing to suppress a yawn, eyelids drooping. “Did it feel like the mermaid’s from the story? Can you tell me it?”

Miss Ashengrotto held onto her son’s little hand, rubbing her thumb gently across his palm. “Hm, well it felt like there was a rope tying me to someone. I couldn’t see or touch them, but I knew they were out there somewhere.” She hummed, placing a kiss on Azul’s forehead. “But it was the song,” she placed a hand on top of her heart and then placed one of her tentacles on Azul’s chest. “It sings from here, and in theirs is where the harmony is complete. It felt like…” A wistful sigh left her lips, “It felt like home. Not quite like the mermaid’s, but similar in a sense.” A soft smile graced her lips as she looked tenderly at her son. “And I met him six years ago. I met you, my little cuttlefish.”

Azul giggled at the nickname. “What about dad? I thought he was your soul match?”

“He’s not,” she frowned slightly, knowing that she would have to tell him eventually about the divorce, but not wanting him to go through what many children of divorce had to. Especially not now. “But that’s okay. We can love people who aren’t our soul matches. Plus soul matches can come in very many ways. They can be romantic, like the mermaid’s, friendships, or familial, like you and me. Some people even have more than one. For every person, there is a different kind of soul match, no two are the same.”

Azul leaned into his mother’s touch, and clung onto her side, “I love you, mama.”

“I love you most,” and she attacked his face with kisses and raspberries, making him squeal with laughter. “Now, you should really try and get some sleep, love. Tomorrow is your birthday after all!”

Azul wrapped himself into a blanket cocoon, “Okay, mama. Night night.”

Ms. Ashengrotto gave one final kiss to his forehead and turned off the light. “Sweet dreams, Azul.”

He looked towards the skylight, seeing the gentle light softly radiating from the full moon above. He wondered if they saw it too if his soul match was seeing the same beautiful moon that he was seeing now. He wondered if they felt like the warm gentle kisses of the sun's rays on skin, or perhaps the cool embrace of the moon’s light. Maybe they felt like something completely different. Azul let out a happy but nervous giggle and waved goodnight to the moon before falling into the land of dreams.

…

Azul woke up the next day, but his excitement morphed into worry and then panic. He didn’t feel the pull. He didn’t hear the song. He was supposed to wake up on his sixth birthday and feel the pull and hear his soul match’s song, but there was nothing. Nothing but silence and his own thoughts and racing heart. He buried himself back into his cocoon, tears starting to threaten to fall.

“Azul, honey?” His mother poked her head into his room and saw that he was still in his bed. “Come on, love, time to get up. I made your favourite breakfast! Azul?” Her chipper tone toned down as she heard the small sniffles, and instantly was at her son’s side, holding out her hand if he wanted to hold on to it. “I’m here if you want to talk, baby.”

Azul slowly pulled the blankets down, eyes bloodshot from crying, and a bit of ink leaking out. “It didn’t happen, mama,” his voice cracked, and he let out a little cough. “Why didn’t it happen?”

Ms. Ashengrotto wiped away some of the stray tears and gently held his face. “That…” she paused, trying to come up with something that would help him but also be true. “That happens sometimes, love. It doesn’t always happen exactly on everyone’s sixth birthday. It might mean that they aren’t here yet.”

Azul rubbed at his nose, “But Rielle said-”

“Tch, tch. Last time I checked Rielle is Rielle, and you are Azul, my sweet, smart, and charming Azul.” She placed a kiss on each cheek, earning a small giggle in return. “So ignore Rielle. It will happen eventually Azul. Besides, you’ll always have me. Now, would you like some breakfast as we wait?”

Azul grabbed onto his mother’s hand, “Maybe just a little…”

And they swam hand in hand towards the kitchen, but both of their minds and hearts weighed heavy at what this could possibly mean.

… ... ...

Azul sat at his desk in the Mostro Lounge VIP room, going over some contracts even though the new school year hadn’t even started yet. Normally, he would be more smug about the whole ordeal, but his mind was elsewhere, wandering. No matter what contract he tried to make to find his soul match, it would always lead to nothing, nothing but a bitter feeling and a restless night of sleep. Ever since he turned six all those years ago, he still hasn’t felt the magnetic pull or heard the song play in his heart that he overheard others talk excitedly about. Perhaps it was a lost cause… Perhaps he was meant to spend this lifetime alone… Perhaps he wasn’t good enough for someone despite all he has accomplished… 

A familiar rapping at the door caught his attention. Pulling himself out of his rapidly tunnel-visioning thoughts, Azul dusted himself off and straightened up his appearance. There’s no use in dwelling in the past and on what-ifs, there are more important dealings at hand. “Come in.”

“Azul, the carriages have started arriving,” Jade spoke, opening the door. 

Azul adjusted the hood on his robe and joined Jade in walking towards the mirror chamber in silence. Floyd was probably off somewhere looking for a source of amusement while the house wardens and vice wardens saw that their new underclassmen got situated. As long as he didn’t have to repay for damages he didn’t mind what shenanigans the other Leech twin got into since it could always be smoothed over at a later date. 

As he was walking down the stairs though, he nearly fell, pausing dead in his tracks and clutching onto the bannister. Something was pulling at him so strongly that he nearly toppled over. And he could hear singing so loud that he could almost hear nothing else save for his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. His soul match. He wasn’t alone. Everything else seemed to disappear, nothing else mattered. But the moment of shock, awe, and soul-shattering happiness of finally knowing that there was finally someone out there, broke. Shattered into a thousand pieces. If it was happening now that would mean… it would mean that his soul match just entered into the world. That happiness morphed into bitterness. He would be at least seventeen years their senior, and he instantly felt ill. 

Jade had noticed the odd behaviour and stood there waiting and watching. Seeing the different emotions flash across Azul’s eyes. “Hmm? Something the matter?” A coy smile slowly made its way onto his face, amused at whatever had caused the brief moment of clumsiness.

Azul’s face flushed blue, but he cleared his throat and continued on, ignoring the stare that was practically searing a hole at the back of his head. “Nothing for you to be concerned with,” he stated cooly. He was anything but cool though, quite the opposite really. He wanted nothing more than to retreat back to his office, even considering hiding away in his octopot after all of these years. Jade, however, did not need to be privy to any of this, lest Azul wanted to be teased for admitting to such a thing. “Now, let’s move along. We shouldn’t be late.”

The magnetic pull and song did not stop, if anything it kept on growing stronger. Azul had to grit his teeth to avoid his carefully crafted mask from falling. But there was a small part of him that wanted nothing more than to follow the pull, to find them. A part of him reasoned that soul matches were not always one type of relationship, some are purely platonic whereas others took on a more familial role, like what his mother told him many years ago. But no one was the wiser of his thoughts as he entered the mirror chamber, people more focused on first-day nerves and sorting out their new charges. 

“New students,” he started, putting on a welcoming yet calculating smile. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your achievement. As dorm leader of Octavinelle House, I am honoured to have the opportunity to support you in what I hope will be a fulfilling campus experience.” He looked around the new sea of faces that would call Octavinelle home. That’s odd though, the headmage seems to not be here.

Other dorm heads started muttering about the headmage’s absence, but soon enough he appeared, dragging along some grey creature and a new student in their robes. Azul winced, the song was deafening and despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus on what was being said.

But upon hearing, “I sense no magical powers from this one. Soundless. Colourless,” that piqued his interest and the song faltered slightly. “Shapeless. Utterly vacant. Therefore, no dorm would be appropriate.”

But the moment of silence was ruined, trying into chaos, since the grey creature decided to get loose and spew blue fire everywhere.

“Everyone,” Riddle shouted, “get down!”

The others were not much help, taking to bickering amongst themselves or trying (and failing in some cases) to not get licked by the flames.

Azul cleared his throat, “Allow me to handle this, Headmage Crowley. If none of you are up to the task of catching a small animal, I will accept the responsibility.” He would recount to others that he remembered the proceedings of that day, but he would be lying, as he could only recount the pull and the song that made it hard to hear or focus on anything else. Even the snarky banter with Riddle was forgotten. It was only the song that occupied his thoughts.

… ...

The song had quietened since it first showed up, now just a constant humming in his head. The pull though would vary in strength, meaning that his soul match was closer to him. He wanted nothing more than to run to them, but he knew better than to go into this blindly. He told himself that he would wait for six years, and talk to their guardian about him being in their life as a familial bond. The only inkling that Azul was thinking all of this was the occasional far-off look in his eyes, or singing the same song under his breath.

“That’s new,” Jade hummed. 

Azul faltered, realizing that he had been singing his soul match’s song unknowingly. “I suppose it is,” he said, measuring his actions carefully. He knew that Jade would see through any lies he attempted, so he knew that telling the truth was a far better option. It would just have to be handpicked truths though, as to make sure not to lay everything bare, as he wasn’t ready for that yet. “I heard it recently and haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

Jade placed a cup of tea on the desk, careful to avoid any papers that were strewn about. “That so? I don’t recognize it.” His smile turned sharp, calculating, but he tampered it down to something more cold and polite. “Perhaps we can find the person who made this song?”

Azul stopped what he was doing, and looked at Jade with a raised brow. “There is no need for such… drastic measures,” he said, wanting nothing more than to hide away. Of course that damned eel would notice his off behaviour and put two and two together. “Besides,” he brushed himself off, “it would be foolish.”

“It would be foolish not to,” Jade replied. Soon the sharp smile returned, “Speaking of fools, there has been talk of the new Prefect of Ramshackle. Apparently, they have… won over Riddle and Leona. And they seem to keep rather interesting company as well. They seem intriguing.”

Azul pushed up his glasses and faintly recalled the face of the Ramshackle Prefect from the mirror chamber. “The magicless Prefect? And by company you mean those two first-years in Heartslabyul and that cat creature? Hmm, they did just sign these the other day.” He pulls out the three contracts, looking up at his friend(?), fellow business associate(?). “And that dorm, as… rustic as it is would work wonderfully for our latest business venture.” A small smug smile starts to bloom. “Let’s see how foolish they can be.”

… ... ...

When Azul overblotted, the song returned, practically screaming in his head, and the pull felt like he was next to a black hole. That’s all he really remembers from the incident, the rest of it being filled in by the others. But why was the song so loud? How was the pull so strong? He groaned, dragging his hands across his face. “Why is this happening,” he breathed out, staring up at the ceiling of his room. “Why now?”

And on top of all of this, the largest full moon of the year is happening next week, just his luck. At least the professors were understanding and gave the merfolk the week off of studies, and even if they could attend classes, everyone would have been too distracted to focus on the subject material. Perhaps he could take this week and work on revising the Lounge’s menu.

He sighed, it was no use trying to get any sleep at this rate. “Sea Witch,” he huffed, “why did you spin me this fate?” No one answered, just the calm light of the moon falling down from above, painting everything in cool silvers and blues. Perhaps a walk around campus would help clear his swimming thoughts and allow him to at least get a few hours of decent sleep before his first class of the day.

As he walked through the empty halls, Azul hummed the song that never ceased in his mind. He let the gentle pull of his soul match guide him. He knew it would lead somewhere, and he would stop himself from going any further if he felt it get too strong. What he wasn’t expecting was to hear someone else humming the exact tune, the same lyrics, harmonizing perfectly with his, echoing off of the corridors from out of site.

Both parties stopped. The gentle tugging now felt like a gravitational pull. And Azul was conflicted; should he continue ahead or turn back? His soul match had just happened this year, if they had indeed just entered into this world they shouldn’t be here, at the college, let alone at this hour. And by the tone of their humming, he would guess that they were around his age, not an infant as he first thought. Then why did it take so long for the song and pull to happen? What did that mean?

But the hurried footsteps which fled in the opposite direction of him were an indicator enough; they weren’t ready. They didn't want to meet him.

A lump formed in his throat. His soul match was here? For all this time? At the school? A slight panic arose. Did they know? Were they able to tell who he was based on the faint humming? Is that why they ran away? Because they knew and wanted nothing to do with him? After all this time why should he think any differently? Of course, his soul match would choose to run away from him.  Why wouldn’t they? After his overblot, he wouldn’t expect them to stay. If he were them, he would have run away as well, far far away. He couldn’t blame them. He would have run away from himself too.

… ... ...

The week of the full moon came far sooner than Azul would have wanted. Instead of going home as many of the others did, he stayed, holing himself up in one of the private pools in the Octavinelle dorm during the day or his office when nighttime came around. Of course, he wasn’t so lucky to be the only one who stayed. Jade and Floyd had stayed to ‘keep him company’, but he knew that they only stayed to tease him even though they had their soul matches out there somewhere.

“Jade told me that you’ve been humming a little song,” speak of one the devils. Floyd poked his head into the crevice that Azul had crammed himself into at the deep end of the pool. “So you’ve been hiding the little siren song from us, that’s not fairr!~ Come on, sing, Azul!”

Azul glared at the intruding twin, “It has nothing for you to be concerned with.” He tried to push Floyd out of his personal space, but he just took it as a challenge to try and shimmy his way in further. “I don’t meddle in your… affairs,” he hissed, finally having enough of the meddling eel-mer and punching him in the gut with a tentacle, shooting him out of the rocky cavern and his personal space. “Now leave me alone!”

“Eh? Tch, whatever, you’re no fun like this, moping about,” Floyd pouted. His eyes soon lit up though, and he turned to his brother who was lurking in the background. “We should grab Little Shrimpy tonight! I wonder how they would react if we pulled them in for a swim?~”

Jade chuckled, “Their reaction would be quite amusing I imagine.” He swam over to Azul’s hiding crevice, and shot him a look that he knew too well; he was planning something, something that was sure to give him a headache.

Floyd swam about excitedly, twisting and turning, turning up the sand at the bottom and clouding up the water. “Swimming with Shrimpyyyy,” he sang with glee. “Heh heh, wonder if Shrimpy has their own song?~ Eh, but humans only have the song if their match is a mer…”

Azul groaned, what with Floyd’s babbling and the song being stubbornly loud today, he could feel the beginnings of a migraine. Why couldn’t there be large enough pools in their bedrooms so he could avoid all of this? “Seven’s, put me out of my misery,” he grumbled to himself. 

“Ah, Azul,” Jade tutted, “we can’t have that now. After all, your match is around here, somewhere.” That earned the eel a tentacle punch as well, much like his brother. “No need to be rude now. We’re just trying to help is all.” But that smug shit-eating grin of his said otherwise. “Floyd, let’s go, the sun is setting. We’ll retrieve the Prefect closer to dawn.”

And finally, Azul was left alone. But the brief moment of peace was broken, hissing in pain. The transformation was happening. Upon completion, he poked his head out, making sure that the coast was clear before making his way towards his office and bolting the door shut. “At last,” he sighed, sagging against one of the sofas. “Some peace and quiet.”

As he busied himself with revising contracts, the day’s earnings, and going over notes on what subject matter to study for an upcoming test. But he wasn’t all there. Despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the song, and the tugging was strongest during this week. But after that night, when he heard them run away, he didn’t know if he wanted to find them anymore. What if this… whatever it is that the Sea Witch gave him, wasn’t right? He could have been content eventually, content with knowing that he didn’t have a soul match out there. But this, knowing and having one but having heard them run away before he could properly meet them? That was almost worse. He would always know that they were out there, and they had run away before even really getting to know him. Could they have been happy? Could they have been a friend? Could they have been like family? Could they have been… in love?

Eventually, he had to return to the pool, as he didn’t want anyone seeing him crawl back in his mer-form. When he got back he noticed the twins were still gone, but they would be back eventually, so he took this time to properly stretch out. Yes, being in tight spaces gave him a sense of security, but it felt nice to stretch out his tentacles and relax without worrying about someone interrupting him or making a rude comment. It felt nice to take up space.

“Come on, Shrimpy!” Floyd’s yelling alerted him, and he quickly went down to his hiding crevice before he was spotted. “Let’s go for a swim!~”

The door to the pool room opened with a loud bang, Floyd carrying the Ramshackle Prefect over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Even from under the water, Azul could hear them shrieking in protest. “FLOYD! Put me down!”

He hid further in his hiding spot, not wanting them to see him like this. He also clutched his hands over his ears, the song only increasing more and more. And the tugging at his soul grew even stronger.

Jade was of no help, just watching the chaos ensue. You shot him a glare, but he just chuckled at the action.

“Eh? Okay then, Shrimpy, if you insist,” Floyd got that familiar glean in his eyes, the kind that meant no good.

 “Floyd, do not throw me! Don’t you dare throw me,” but he had already made the decision for you, and you could do nothing to stop him. He threw you into the pool, following suit by splashing in after you, drenching Jade in the process who shot his twin the side eye. “Why?” You seethed.

Floyd swam up beside you, now in his mer-form. “Cuz it’s more fun like this,” he sang, poking your cheek with the tip of a claw. “Right, Jade?!”

Jade was now also in the pool and swimming towards you. “While I wouldn’t personally throw them in, it was quite amusing.”

“You two are awful,” you sighed, giving into your fate. Despite being just thrown in, the water was quite pleasant but you wouldn’t admit it, since they would tease you mercilessly. Jade chuckled, and Floyd gave you a large smile, but neither of them denied the statement. 

You went and laid on your back, floating and staring at the ceiling. To others, it would look like you were relaxing, but you did this not to relax, but rather to stay afloat. As you felt like an anchor was trying to pull you into the dark depths of the pool. There was nothing pulling you down physically though, and other odd things have also happened since you showed up at Night Raven College. Yes, a world filled with magic, merfolk, fae, and beastmen was quite the shocker, but none of that explained why you felt like something was always pulling you towards something, and the same song kept on playing in your head. And now, alongside the pulling, it was the loudest it has ever been, even louder than during Azul’s overblot when it felt like it was rupturing your eardrums. But it was more pleasant this time, not painful.

You hummed, “Just curious, but does everyone hear… a song in their head on repeat all the time?”

Floyd stopped splashing about and was in your face in a millisecond. “SHRIMPYYY!!!” And he tackled you into a hug that would definitely be leaving some bruises later. You should have been used to this kind of behaviour, but you still winced with him nearly screaming in your ear and the pressure of his squeezing. 

Jade had also swam into your personal bubble, eyes filled with curiosity. “Oh, that’s rather strange. Have you always heard this little song of your’s, Prefect?”

You wiggled out of Floyd’s grasp, sputtering out some wayward water that had managed to get into your mouth, leaving behind the taste of salt. “No,” you grimaced, spitting out some more water. “Which is why I’m asking.”

Azul peered up, this exchange catching his attention, but still kept himself hidden.

“It means you have a soul match!~” Floyd giggled.

You frowned, “A soul match? Never heard of that.”

“A soul match is something rather common here,” Jade said. “For humans, it is quite rare. It is far more common in beastmen, fae and merfolk. The fact that you have such a bond is…” he paused for a moment, “rather interesting.”

You heaved yourself out of the water, as you didn’t feel comfortable staying in the pool what with the pulling and the off chance that it did eventually pull you underwater never to surface again. “Cryptic as always, Jade,” you raise a brow at the eel-mer. “Just answer the question please.”

Jade put a hand over his heart, “Oh, how you wound me.” He saw you roll your eyes, and he decided to elaborate on your request. “Mers are gifted soul matches by the Sea Witch. A song rests in the heart, calling out to the one who completes the harmony. Their match pulls at them, as the moon does the tide.” He leaned in close, eyes flashing. “So, to answer your question, Prefect-”

“Shrimpy’s match is a mer!!!” Floyd interrupted with glee, throwing his arms out, splashing you in the process. 

Jade sighed at his brother’s antics. “Which is what I was going to say before you interrupted me, but he is correct. You have a soul match with a mer.”

You blinked in confusion. You, with a merperson? “But why? How,” you questioned, looking at your reflection in the water. Why me?

“That, I believe, is for you to discover on your own,” Jade hummed. You shot him the side eye. “Oh, don’t give me such a look, Prefect, you know I can’t give away everything. Besides,” he peered down into the depths, “if you follow the tug, and sing the song, you will find them eventually.”

With that, Jade dove into the depths, calling Floyd to follow him. You were left alone at the edge of the pool, with nothing else to accompany you but your dripping clothes and racing thoughts. And of course, the song that played in your head.

… ...

Somehow that night, Jade and Floyd had managed to pry Azul away from his desk and paperwork.

“Leave me alone,” he protested, glaring at them. “Go look for your soul matches without me!”

Floyd flung his arm across Azul’s shoulder, effectively trapping him into joining along. “But Azulll, we should find them together!~” Why did he insist on being so? So?! So annoying?! “Plus, I wanna see the look on your face when you see them for the first time! Maybe you’ll turn blue, or even spew ink!~”

Why did he befriend these two again? “I will do no such thing!” His voice cracked, going up an octave and he felt his face flush. And Floyd wore an even larger grin, poking at his cheek.

“See! Already proving to be fun!” He ran ahead suddenly, leaving Azul alone with Jade. 

Azul massaged his temple, trying to regain whatever composure he had left. Didn’t he just say they would be searching for their soul matches together? Why in the Sea Witch’s name did he just run off without them? 

Jade walked behind him, making sure he couldn’t just return back to his office and hide for the night. “Floyd is just a bit excitable is all,” he answered Azul’s silent question. But he knew that the eel was plotting something.

The pulling was getting stronger, and the song blocked out everything else. Azul had to close his eyes and dig his nails into his hands. He was not running away. He wasn’t the same little octo-mer that hid away from the world. 

Just as soon as he had left, Floyd was back, and he had a tag-along. “And Shrimpy is joining us in the hunt!~”

Without thinking, both Azul and you stepped forward, being drawn together by an invisible force. And suddenly everything was silent. Sing. Azul’s mouth opened and shut, but nothing came out. He didn’t have to start though, as you sang the first notes, and he joined in. The two of you stood there, humming your harmony. And all those thoughts that plagued his mind earlier vanished, knowing that you were the right one. That the Sea Witch knew that you were the only one for him.

…

Bonus!

Jade and Floyd looked at the two of you curiously, with Jade having to hold back Floyd from interrupting the tender moment.

“Wondering if Shrimpy will stay human or decide to turn into a mer,” Floyd whispered to Jade. “Would they be a shrimp or octo-mer, to match with Azul?”

Jade turned his attention away from the two soul matches, “That’s for them and Azul to decide, we shouldn’t meddle.”

Floyd shot him a pout, “But when you meddle it’s fine? How did you even know they were soul matches in the first place?”

“It wasn’t all that hard,” he quipped. “I heard the Prefect sing some of the lyrics under their breath, and I also heard Azul quietly singing them as well.”

“See, meddling.~” Floyd looked at his brother expectantly, “Well, what were they?”

Jade looked at you and Azul, still humming the song to each other, a soft smile coming to rest on his face. “I believe it was, ‘Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down.’ Quite sweet if you think about it.”

Floyd also smiled, looking at the two soul matches. “Heh, it suits them.~”

. . . . .

Fin!

Now I dare you to read this again, knowing full well what the song is, because I swear it will make you see it in a different light and have you cracking up in parts. Please don't kill me, love you!

Link to Masterlist

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fic #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto x gn reader #azul x reader #azul x gn reader #twst x gn reader #jade leech #floyd leech #mama ashengrotto #sorry but not sorry for the ending #literally i had written a note to myself near the beginning 'should i be a little shit and make the song a fucking meme... mayhaps' #i was crying CRYING i tell you #octavinelle #i greatly enjoyed putting azul through it and i will do it again in time #and also i would literally kill and die for azul's mum #jade just spends the entirety of this trying to get these two dense idiots together and not murder someone #floyd is just there for the vibes and shrimpy #99% genuine fic 1% crack #technically it's 0.0017% crack #twst x gender neutral reader #twst hurt/comfort #tweels

[natrogersfics]

nat comes home to steve solving a really big problem. bonus points if he ain't doing too well.

Steve Rogers is highly intelligent.

This is a fact Natasha holds as gospel. And no, it’s not just because she’s married to the man. But even if that were the case, she knows that somewhere deep in the servers of one Nicholas J. Fury, she could find droves of IQ tests and reports that would only fortify the claim. She’s seen it in action, too – how quickly he had learned to pilot a modern jet just weeks out of the ice and how adept he had become at utilizing gear that Tony had just spun up in his workshop.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise then how naturally he’s taken to being a father. While it’s only been half a year since she and Sarah had come home, with how instantly he could alleviate whatever thought was burdening their daughter with his words or a single touch, one would never guess that this experience is still novel to him.

Of course, their little girl played a big role in that as well. Sarah is everything any parent could have hoped for in a child and more. Sweet, exceptionally smart, and above all else, caring. From experience, she knows that loving Sarah is as easy as breathing, and based on the way Steve’s eyes sparkle with adoration every single time he looks at her, she knows that he shares the sentiment.

Nevertheless, their daughter is still only three, and while her legion of aunts and uncles will swear up and down that she’s the most behaved child in the history of children, she also knows that Sarah can be just as curious and determined as three-year-olds come – something her father is just now becoming privy to. The hard way.

“Daddy,” Sarah whines from where she’s perched on their bathroom counter. “Can we go now?”

“Not yet, Princess,” Steve says, using that patient yet still gentle tone of his that he only ever uses with their daughter. “Daddy needs a little more time to wash off this…” – he takes the tube from Sarah’s grasp, reading the label – “full-coverage concealer.”

Steve’s voice falters with what can only be described as dread before he subsequently mutters a Christ under his breath, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he takes in the disaster zone that is their bathroom counter with the same intensity he would a schematic for their next mission. And as she leans against the doorframe watching all of this unfold, she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling.

Formulate a new plan on the fly while they were on the battlefield and had bullets raining down on them? He wasn’t coined the Man With a Plan for nothing. Take on multiple hostiles coming at him all by himself? He could do that all day. But knowing what to do when their daughter gets her hands on a stash of heavy-duty makeup? That, apparently, is the one time where Captain America, master tactician, finds himself completely out of his depth.

And boy, does their daughter sense it as she lets out an exasperated sigh. “Daddy-”

“Just a minute, love,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Daddy’s thinking…”

“But Daddy,” Sarah says, exaggerating every syllable. “Me and Uncle Bruce are having a tea party-”

“Oil,” Steve says, really more to himself than anyone else as he ignores Sarah’s plea. “Oil’s gotta get this off.” He turns to Sarah. “Stay here. I just have to grab something from the kitchen.”

She’s not sure if Sarah even truly understands the implication of her father’s words, but she certainly catches the uncertainty in them, and that’s enough to make the little girl’s eyes grow wide as saucers. “No!”

“But-”

“There’s a cleansing balm under the sink,” she interjects, finally making her presence known and causing both Steve and Sarah to look her way, and she certainly doesn’t miss the way relief washes over the pair of them.

“Mama, you’re home!” Sarah greets happily at the same time Steve makes a comment about her being back early.

“Mission wrapped up faster than expected,” she tells Steve as she pushes off the frame. He steps aside as she nears, letting her take his place in front of Sarah, only for her brows to lift in amusement when she finally sees the full extent of their daughter’s handiwork. Not only did Sarah smother her complexion in concealer, but she also decided that she needed to use what she’s sure is her liquid lipstick as blush and her mascara to do her brows while she was at it. She laughs softly. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“I put makeup on, mama,” Sarah announces proudly. “All by myself!”

“And it won’t come off,” Steve adds.

“I can see that,” she says, stealing a glance at Steve and smirking when his expression clearly shows he does not buy that she’s only just arrived. She attempts to appear more serious as she turns back to Sarah. “What did I say about playing with my makeup, Little Miss?”

“Not to do it,” Sarah mumbles, eyes downturned. “But I wanted to be pretty like you, mama.”

“Oh, Sarah,” she sighs, tucking a finger under the girl’s chin and lifting it gently so her eyes can meet hers. “You don’t need any of this stuff to be pretty.”

“Daddy always says you’re beautiful when you wear makeup,” Sarah explains, pouting.

“I think mama’s beautiful all the time,” Steve clarifies, stepping closer to them and crouching down until he’s eye-level with Sarah so she can see him smile. “I think both my girls are.”

Sarah’s lips lift in a smile that mirrors Steve’s before she lets her big, blue eyes flicker between her parents. “I’m sorry.”

She and Steve share a quick glance, silently affirming how hard, if not outright impossible, it is to be mad at their daughter. “It’s okay, baby,” she says, running a hand through Sarah’s curls. “Makeup’s not bad, it’s just not for you yet. When you’re a little older, okay?” Sarah nods in agreement, and she leans down to dust a kiss to the crown of her head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

It takes a quarter of a bottle of Micellar water, a few heaping scoops of cleansing balm, and many gripes from Sarah about her shirt getting wet, but eventually, they successfully get every trace of makeup off her face. “All right,” she says, lifting Sarah off the counter and setting her on her feet. “Why don’t you go pick out some clothes so I can drop you off at Uncle Bruce’s floor for your tea party?”

Sarah takes off with a squeal at her question, prompting her to shake her head at her daughter’s retreating figure.

“You know, I would’ve figured it out.”

She turns just as Steve throws another bunch of cotton pads into the trash. “Oh yeah,” she says, moving to rest her hip against the counter. “And would that have been before or after you doused our daughter in olive oil?”

“Hey, in my defense, none of it was coming off!”

“So your solution was to marinade her?” she challenges, unable to keep from chuckling when he glares at her. “Oh, come on. I’m kidding!” She hooks her fingers into his belt loops, playfully pulling him towards her so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “She’s been trying to get her fingers on that kit for days. She was bound to get it at some point.”

His hands find her waist as he lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry she ruined all your makeup,” he says. “I only looked away for a second to load the dishwasher, I swear.”

“She’s the daughter of two former SHIELD agents, what did you expect?” she says, laughing when he only shakes his head in concession. “Honestly, I’m just glad that I got here when I did.” He lifts his brow up in question, and she points towards the lip gloss stain on his collar. “Saves me from asking you where this came from. Because if I found this in the laundry? Believe me, you’d be prone on the ground right now.”

He scoffs as though the thought of him stepping out on her is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, eliciting a laugh out of her. “Your mission go okay?”

“As okay as missions involving kids as hostages can go,” she says, shrugging. “We got them out and that’s all that matters.”

“And you kicked the crap out of the people who took them hostage, right?”

She rolls her eyes. “Naturally.”

He grins, and she swears she catches the pride that flashes in his eyes. “Well, we’re glad you’re home,” he says, pulling her in for a kiss. “Missed you.”

“Did you now?”

He hums in confirmation, and she can only grin as he leans down to capture her lips in his again before kissing a path down the side of her jaw. “I could tell you how much,” he says, his grip on her waist tightening as he pulls her even closer to whisper in her ear, “but I think you’d much prefer that I show you.”

“Actually…” she says, pulling away to show him the smirk that’s formed on her lips. “I’d much prefer to have a bathroom that’s not covered in makeup.” He throws his head back in a groan, and she chuckles as she pats his shoulder. “Get cleaning, soldier.”

He shakes his head as he watches her make her way out, a smug look practically plastered on her face. “Tease!”

Masterlist

#Romanogers #In Her Eyes #And I'd Choose You #Captain America #Black Widow #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #drabbles

[ange1sang]

sweetface, angelface

2.2k words

; canon compliant/post season 11, domestic fluff, sibling love, gallavich, fiona and ian + fiona and mickey, past regrets, mild hurt/comfort but mostly just sweet

Ian and Mickey's West Side apartment is silent when Fiona lets herself in with the spare key she borrowed from Lip. The quiet is thick in a way that it never was back in the Gallagher house - quiet always meant something terrible had happened, and rarely lasted more than a minute or two in their neighbourhood - and Fiona has to pause to take it in with a deep breath.

Lip had warned her that her visit was poorly timed. Ian had been climbing up the mental steps towards another high which had resulted in a quick and easy adjustment of his medication, and while Ian was resilient and experienced after so many years of learning the ins and outs of being bipolar, it had still left him sleepy and distant as his brain got used to the change in chemicals. He'd been off work for half a week - a long time for someone finding their footing in the real world - and Mickey had taken the past couple of days off to take care of his husband, something that had taken Fiona back to Ian's first depressive episode as soon as Lip had told her. Mickey's determination to take care of Ian, his hardheaded love for her little brother, and the fear in his eyes as he rambled about the sudden shift in Ian's behaviour.

She'd been less than supportive back then, knowing that Ian needed real treatment more than he needed love in that moment, but hearing now how Mickey's determination has persisted for years longer than they'd ever expected had made her heart ache.

Ian had always been her baby. Since that first night Frank left her and her only siblings at the time out on the street and she'd carried a feverish Ian and teary Lip to the clinic he'd been her baby. Lip was the second oldest, a role that came with signifcantly less responsibility but still enough of it for him to be her rock through those first few years of playing house all by herself. But for the years before Debbie was born Ian had been the youngest, the one who needed the most care, and even after their other siblings were born and Ian became Lip's best friend instead of just his little brother, the need to take care of him had lingered for Fiona.

It didn't help that Ian was so sweet and kind, always wearing his heart on his sleeve in a way that Fiona and Lip never did. He was vulnerable, and even when he kept his aches and pains to himself it was obvious when he was hurt. She wanted, always had wanted, to shelter him from as much as she could, even when she had too much on her plate to know his whereabouts or the names of kids bothering him at school.

Despite the desire to keep him safe, Fiona knew that he had slipped through the cracks more often than his siblings had. Maybe it was the sweet smile he gave her when she asked if he was alright, maybe it was the resilience that shone through when he started navigating his sexuality by himself, maybe it was his dreams of the army and the tough guy exterior he put on whenever he talked about West Point. Whatever the reason, he'd been left behind when she fussed over Lip being in school, when Debbie got pregnant, when Carl came back from juvie. He was the apple of her eye, but he was so meek sometimes that it was easy to focus on the rest of the kids and what they needed from her.

She knows now that she could've done more. That she should've been glad Ian was with Mickey instead of some guy who was old enough to be his father, who there'd been far too many of without any of them stopping to question what the hell those men were doing with their brother. She should have fought to bring him home when he ran off to the army the same way she fought to bring Lip home after he dropped out, and she should've done more than turn a blind eye when he started working at clubs and came home skinny, high out of his mind with eyeliner still smeared around his lashline. She should've carried him to safety, the same way she did that night when it was just the three of them alone in the world for the first time. There was no way she could have done a perfect job at raising all five of the kids - she knows that too - but her heart aches when she thinks of the times Ian slipped through all of their fingers without a safety net to catch him.

She owes Ian, forever her little brother and the only sibling she calls 'sweetface', for not trying to understand him better. For not trying harder to love the only boyfriend who had been there through the first highs and lows without ever turning his back on him. Ian did okay even without those things, she can see as much as she looks around the little apartment. The family photos in frames on the TV stand, the taupe couch with only one stain, the coffeetable with a half-full ashtray she recognises from their old home. He did okay because, despite being a softer kid than any of them had the courage to be, he was strong. She smiles when she spots a wedding picture hung above the TV, Ian and Mickey holding each other's faces like the rest of the world had fallen away at that moment. She wishes she'd been there, will likely wish as much for the rest of her life, but she's here now and has to hope that's enough.

The clattering of dishes pulls her out of her thoughts. She can hear coffee being put to brew, the soft shuffle of socked feet coming from the kitchen. She blinks back the dull ache in her chest and makes her way to the source of the noise, smiling when she sees Mickey leaning against the counter, an unlit cigarette between his lips as he puts two Pop-Tarts in the toaster. He startles at her presence but smiles as soon as he sees her.

"Hey Fi," he greets, setting aside his cigarette and allowing her to hug him hello without a struggle, which is a win for Fiona even if he doesn't really return the touch. He's softer in their new environment she realises, more relaxed than he ever was when he was in the same neighbourhood as his family. She pulls back and gives his arm a squeeze, smiling warmly at the sight of the wedding ring on his finger.

"Hi angelface," she says. Mickey immediately turns to the doorway, looking for something before he freezes and turns his attention back to Fiona, brows drawn tight together as he looks her up and down.

"Thought you were talking to Ian," he mumbles, pulling away from her touch as though to get a better look at her. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

Fiona can't help but laugh, shrugging off her jacket and draping it over the back of one of the chairs at their kitchen table.

"Ian's always been sweetface," she says, watching how Mickey's expression softens as she says that. "I was thinkin' the whole way over that you ought to have a nickname too."

"Y'know, I was doin' fine without one," Mickey grumbles, but the furrow between his brows has disappeared, a half-amused smirk on his lips.

"Count yourself lucky you didn't get one the day he started lookin' at you like you hung the moon and fucking stars," she jokes, which makes him snicker. She thinks back to the days Ian and Mickey were just teenagers wrapped around each other's little fingers, smiling little smiles that they only shared with each other and falling asleep side by side in whatever cramped space was available to them, be it Ian's childhood bed or the worn and torn Gallagher couch. Mickey had been the farthest thing from an angel at the time and he's still pretty far off, but if she could go back she'd have started calling him angelface the second he proved he was in it for the long haul. She takes a deep breath and perches on the edge of the table. "How's he been?"

"Good," Mickey says quickly, not dismissively but confidently, his blue eyes fond as he glances towards the doorway again. "Sleepin' a lot but he's eating and keeping up a routine and all that shit. He"– Mickey hesitates here, eyes darting back and forth between Fiona's face and the floor as a flush climbs his cheeks. –"works real fuckin' hard, y'know? He doesn't want anyone to worry, not like when we were kids. He knows his shit and he fuckin'... He works hard."

Fiona smiles. She does know. Ian's never been half-hearted in anything he cares about, and hearing that he cares about taking care of himself soothes some of the worry that's always going to nag at her, wondering if he's got his head above water.

"Helps that he's got you," she says, giving Mickey some of the long overdue credit she never let him have before. Mickey rolls his eyes and his fingers twitch like he's going to flip her off but ultimately he just pulls out three mugs to pour coffee into. She smiles, recalling how he was with Mandy, bickering and cussing back and forth but always reserving a special kind of sweetness for each other that they didn't share with anyone else in their family. Fiona knows better than anyone that siblings can't be replaced, but him offering her a little of the friendliness he used to reserve for his little sister makes her happy.

"Fi."

Ian's voice, slow and rough with sleep, breaks the comfortable silence in the kitchen. Fiona jumps up and launches herself at her little brother in a tight hug, smiling into his shoulder when he wraps his arms around her.

"I didn't know you were coming over," he mumbles, tucking his face down into her shoulder the same way he used to do back when they were the same height. He has to bend his neck down to do it now, making himself smaller as she brings a hand up to run her fingers through his curls.

"Lip called after you went to sleep, didn't wanna wake you," Mickey explains, voice soft.

Fiona grins as she pulls away from him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Hey, sweetface," she murmurs, pinching his cheek and pulling a whine from Ian. "Forgot how tall you are."

"You were gone for too long," he replies, but there's no hard feelings in his voice. She still thinks about the day she left, visiting him in prison and squeezing his hands tight so she wouldn't forget the warmth of his palms once she let go. His smile, supportive and sad and excited all at once had reflected all of her own feelings and tied her stomach in knots but also grounded her, reminding her that her family would always be here for her to come home to. She kisses his cheek again even though this too makes him whine before finally letting him go.

"Now that you got your own place I'll visit more often," she reassures him. Through the bleary, sleepy expression on his face Ian smiles.

"You better," he jokes, before stepping over to kiss Mickey's cheek. She watches them exchange gentle 'good morning's, Mickey's hand trailing up and down Ian's spine in a way that's so casual, so clearly the norm for them, that she has to look away before she gets teary-eyed.

They sit around the kitchen table, coffee mugs and Pop-Tarts and pills and cigarettes all carefully laid out in front of them. Seeing them go about their lives with her there, mumbling about bills and what they dreamt last night and whether or not the movie they've been wanting to watch will be easy to pirate, is the best gift she's ever received. Lip has his own family, Carl has a great job, Debbie is a better mother than Monica ever dreamed of being, Liam is cleverer than any of them and Ian is doing well. Better than well, even after everything he's been through, after being let down in ways Fiona will never be able to forget. They all did good with what they were given, but it's Ian's life - cozy and safe and domestic - that makes her happiest.

"You're never gonna guess what she fuckin' called me, man," Mickey says suddenly, drawing Fiona's attention back to the present. Ian raises an eyebrow and turns his attention to his big sister, already smiling before she says anything.

"You're sweetface, only makes sense if he's angelface," she defends the sappy nickname, giggling when Ian laughs out loud. Mickey is only slightly less amused, blushing when Ian reaches out to hold his hand.

"Makes sense to me, Mick," he says, which has his husband rolling his eyes.

"Course you'd side with her, fuckin' payback for me siding with Debbie one time, huh?" he mutters, which brings forth another round of teasing from Ian. Fiona listens to them and makes a mental note to ask about Mickey and Debbie later. For now she just steeps in the peace of their apartment, of the life they've carved out for themselves, and breathes a sigh of relief.

#shameless #shameless fluff #shameless fic #gallavich fluff #fiona gallagher

[sequinsmile-x]

Words of Affirmation

Their childhoods were different, but the outcome had been the same. They both found it hard to talk about how they felt, to put into words the affection they had for each other, but they were learning together, and tt was something she was looking forward to doing for the rest of her life. 

Two moments in which Aaron and Emily are able to find the right words to express how they feel about each other.

Part of the Love Languages series

-x-

Hi friends!

Here is the penultimate fic in this little series of unrelated one shots. I really hope you like it - just pure fluff/these idiots pining over each other.

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: None!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron sighs contentedly as he steps into his apartment, the warmth of his home sinking into his bones as he closes the door behind him, locking out the rest of the world.

He slips off his jacket and hangs it up, rolling his shoulders as he does so, an ache he couldn’t quite shift settling in between them after a long day. He’d had to stay behind after Emily and the rest of the team, budget reports and a meeting with Strauss he couldn’t avoid keeping him late in the office. There was a time when he wouldn’t have thought much about it, used to working later and starting earlier than everyone else, but these days he hated it, every second he was away from home when he didn’t need to be an eternity. 

Emily had sent him a few texts after she’d left, including a selfie of her and Jack snuggled together in the little boy’s twin bed. He’d saved the photo, the picture of his son fast asleep against his girlfriend's side, Jack’s favourite book open and resting against her chest. Emily’s love for his son, her willingness to step into a maternal role in his life, made Aaron love her even more, affection for her constantly threatening to bubble over and spill out of him. 

He had never been very good at expressing how he felt in words. It was a hangover of his childhood, an unfortunate side effect of the stifling environment he’d grown up in. A house where violence and silence ruled, any verbal sign of affection something considered a weakness. He had always preferred to show his love through action. Acts of service that let said ��I love you’ even when he couldn’t. His affection clear in cups of coffee and home cooked meals. 

He’d always done his best, first with Haley and now with Emily. He had learnt from his mistakes with Haley, and he said ‘I love you’ as often as he could to his girlfriend, the words rolling off his tongue with ease. A chaser after their morning kiss or pressed against her hairline as she fell asleep against him. It was easier than it used to be, but it still didn’t feel like enough. 

It didn’t feel like there were enough words to express how he felt for Emily. His love for her so overwhelming at times he couldn’t believe that they were together, that after everything he’d been through, all the loss he’d endured, he was lucky enough to be with her. She understood him in ways other people had never been able to. Their histories, the experiences they’d both had that could have left them dead, brought them closer together. 

The first time they’d kissed, her lips delicate against his after he dropped her home after their first date, it felt like coming home. The space in his chest that had been hollowed out when he’d buried her, when he’d saved his life by killing her, suddenly full. Love for her so overwhelming he’d had to stop himself from telling her right there outside her apartment, the confession seeming far too early. 

Ten months down the line they were already living together, her things mixed in amongst his and Jack’s in the apartment that used just to be theirs. She was such a part of their life, so integral, that he couldn’t remember life without her. 

As he kicks his shoes off he hears her footsteps in the hallway and he can’t help it when a smile spreads across his face at the sight of her. She’d taken up her make-up since she’d been in the office and her hair was now in a messy bun on top of her head. She was wearing one of his shirts, a pair of his socks and some leggings. She looked impossibly beautiful like this, domestic and soft and his.

“Hi sweetheart,” he says as he walks towards her, his arms automatically wrapping around her waist, his lips gentle against hers as he pulls her into a hug.

“Hi honey,” she replies, only pulling back enough from him to speak. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, one of her hands scratching his scalp, her smile soft as he shudders, “How was Stauss?” 

He groans and kisses her one more time before he turns her in his arms and starts to walk them towards the kitchen, his chest pressed against his back as they go. “Exactly like you’d expect.” 

She chuckles as he grumbles, her hand on his cheek as she pats it sympathetically, turning her head to kiss his jawline, “My poor baby,” she says, “Did you eat?” 

“No,” he replies, blowing out a slow breath, “I’ll just make something…” he drifts off as he spots take-out containers from his favourite Chinese restaurant on the counter, a bottle of his preferred beer next to it, the cap already taken off. He smiles as he turns to look at her, a satisfied look spreading across her face, “What’s all this?” 

She shrugs as if it’s nothing, as if this token of her love for him didn’t mean the world, and she wraps her arm around him again, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she replies, “I knew you’d had a rough day. So I ordered in your favourite.” 

“You don’t even like that place.”

She presses her lips together as she looks up at him, her cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment, “But you love it,” she says, her hand on his cheek as she drags him into a kiss, “And,” she starts, pulling away from him to grab him a plate, passing it to him before she watches him start to open the take-out boxes, “Dinner isn’t the only trick I’ve got up my sleeve to cheer you up.” 

He raises his eyebrow at her, amusement bursting in his chest at the way she was smiling at him, “Oh really?” 

“Really,” she replies, winking at him, “I happen to be wearing your favourite bra under this shirt.” 

He isn’t sure why that does it, why her attempt to make him smile after a long day is what tips him over the edge, but it does. He finds himself staring at her, love burning him from the inside out as he puts down the plate he is holding, closing the small gap between them as he pulls her in for a kiss, his hands on her cheeks as he holds her in place. He captures her surprised gasp, the taste of it on his tongue as she grasps at the back of his shirt, sinking into the affection he always gave her so freely. 

She looks a little dazed when he pulls back, her tongue peeking out to lick her lower lip, chasing the taste of him on it, “Not that I’m complaining,” she says slightly breathlessly, her head tilted in curiosity as she looks at him, “But what was that for?” 

He smiles and pulls her in closer, not caring about the cooling food or the beer going warm next to him, his only focus on the woman in his arms. The woman he was lucky to love and be loved by her in return,”

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he says, his hand on her cheek as he smiles at her, “You make everything better.” 

A small chuckle escapes her, the sound a little wet as it catches in her throat, the unexpected declaration forcing her to press her lips together, her eyes shiny as she looks up at him. She reaches up and pushes her fingers through his hair, smiling softly as it flops back down over his forehead. 

She stamps her lips against his before she presses their foreheads together, standing on her tiptoes as he holds her so tightly he thinks he might lift her from the floor, “You make everything better for me too.” 

___

Emily groans as she sits on the couch, her body relaxing into it immediately, her limbs heavy as she settles down. She narrows her eyes when she hears him chuckle and she turns her head to look at him, a smile she can’t fight spreading across her face when their eyes meet. 

“What are you laughing at?” She grumbles, immediately throwing her legs over his lap as he settles on the couch next to her, a shiver running through her when he rests his hand on her thigh, his palm warm and heavy on her skin, “My feet are killing me.”

He hums and delicately runs his hands down her legs, the calluses on his skin making her shiver again, a small smile on his face as he chases the goosebumps, “You’re the one who wore high heels, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, because my mother would have accepted anything less than stilettos tonight,” she says wryly, her sentence lost to a groan as he presses his thumbs into the middle of her right foot, easing away the tension her shoes had created throughout the evening, “God you’re good at that.” 

He chuckles as he continues massaging her foot, the sensation making her eyes drift shut, “At least you know your future husband is good at foot massages.” 

She opens her eyes and winks at him, “Well, why do you think I agreed to marry you.” 

He’d proposed a month ago. It was their first night in their new home, the house they’d bought using her trust fund, and they’d been sitting on the living room floor - the couch they were currently sitting on not yet delivered. It had been a long, tiring, day of moving, and after eating pizza with Jack and settling him into bed they’d sat on the floor together, looking around the place they knew they’d call home for the rest of their lives. She’d been leaning against him, her head on his shoulder, when he’d asked, the ring box seemingly appearing out of nowhere as he quietly asked her if she’d be his wife. 

She hadn’t even had to think about it, the yes she’d all but yelled at him escaping before he’d even finished the question. 

He laughs as he moves on to her other foot, “Nice to know why you keep me around,” he turns serious as he looks up at her, the tension her mother never failed to cause her still lingering in her shoulders, “It wasn’t that bad tonight.” 

She smiles and nods, knowing that he was right. Her mother had insisted on throwing her an engagement party the moment she told her that Aaron had proposed. She’d suggested it before she’d even said congratulations, already listing off people they could invite before she thought to tell her daughter that she was happy for her. 

It had been a fun night. The team had been there and she’d been able to mostly live in a bubble with them and Aaron, a party within a party that her mother would eventually force her out of. She’d had a nice time, a celebration of her love for Aaron made better by him being right by her side and endless champagne she knew her mother would have spared no expense on. But she couldn’t help but think about how this wasn’t the end of it, how she knew their wedding would end up being more of the same, and she hated it. 

“I know,” she says, shifting closer so she’s sitting in his lap, her side against his chest as he gathers her to him, “I had fun,” she links their fingers together, unable to stop smiling at the sight of her ring, “I just…”

She drifts off, not sure how to put it into words without sounding selfish or spoiled. When she’d thought about getting married when she was younger, she’d always pictured it as a grand affair. Not because it was what she would want, but because she knew it was what was expected. A big dress and flowers that smelled like piss but were beautiful, but now she was here she knew she wanted something different. 

Her love for Aaron overrode everything else, including her desire to placate her mother by giving into her demands with little to no fight. Emily loved him more than she ever thought she could love someone, and she wanted their wedding to be about nothing other than that. 

“You don’t want the wedding to be more of the same.” 

She pulls back and looks at him, her eyebrows creased as he finishes his sentence for her, and, not for the first time, she found herself in awe over how well he knew her. How well he loved her. There were times, especially early on in their relationship, when she’d struggled with it. Feeling nothing short of inadequate, sure that she’d never be able to make him feel as loved as he made her feel. She’d never been good at it, never been taught how to show someone that you love them, and she felt like she was making it up as she went along.

Until him, she wasn’t sure she’d ever said that she loved a partner and truly meant it. She’d said it, the words automatic when someone said them to her, a response she didn’t ever think about as they’d smile back at her. It was only when Aaron said it to her the first time, his smile nervous in a way she didn’t know he was capable of, when she realised how much she loved him too, the words feeling different than they ever had before as she said them back to him. The words never seemed to be enough, never felt like they came close to letting him know just how much he meant to her, but she never knew what else to say. 

On some level, she knew he faced the same struggle. Their childhoods were different, but the outcome had been the same. They both found it hard to talk about how they felt, to put into words the affection they had for each other, but they were learning together, and tt was something she was looking forward to doing for the rest of her life. 

She smiles and nods at him, her hand on his neck as she traces his jawline with her thumb, her love for him so overwhelming she feels tears pressing at the back of her eyes.

“You’re my best friend, do you know that?” She says, the statement surprising her as much as it does him, “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that. But you are.” 

It felt strangely simple given how long she’d been looking for the right thing to say to him, but she knows it was true. He was the person she trusted most in the world, not just with her life but with her heart too, and she knew she did the same for him. If she believed in soulmates, that there was one perfect person for everyone, that they were fated and they weren’t here because of how hard they’d fought for themselves and each other, she’d think he was hers. 

He smiles widely at her and she can’t help herself when she presses her thumb into his dimple, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“Don’t tell Dave,” he jokes, stamping another kiss against her lips, “But you’re my best friend too.” 

She beams at him and then rests her head against his shoulder, content to relax against him, to settle into the love that permeated every inch of their home, “Your secret is safe with me.”

They fall into contented silence, the only sound the rasp of the material of her dress against his fingers as he rubs his hand back and forth up and down her side. 

“Em?” He says eventually, his voice soft, quiet so he doesn’t disturb the peace that had surrounded them. She hums in response, her eyes drifting shut as his words rumble from his chest into hers, “Why don’t we just elope?” 

She pulls back from him so quickly she knows she would have slipped from his lap if he wasn’t holding onto her as tightly as he was. She looks at him, desperately looking for a sign that he was joking, not wanting to get her hopes up in case he was, “Are you serious?” 

He nods, “I don’t need anything other than you and Jack,” he says, adoration seeping out of every pore, “I’d marry you anywhere.” 

She shakes her head at him as she chokes on a laugh and she nods as she leans in, her lips fierce against his as she cups the back of his head, holding him in place, her breath skipping across his face. 

“That’s the best thing anyone has ever said to me.” 

-x-

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