#scarlet bridge fic

[kykyonthemoon]

How to function your very tall boyfriend

Having troubles reaching things that are too high for you? Don't fret. That's what having a really tall boyfriend for.

A request by Sora.

🌻 Character x F!Reader Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel and Caleb (first time writing for Caleb <3)Tags: soft, sweet, lovers, established relationship.This fic is for short girlies like me out there <3

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𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

You stood on tiptoe, reaching the full length of your arm towards the row of shelves in front of you. A finger touched the box but you still couldn't get it. You looked around the archives, looking for the help of a ladder, chair, or anything. Then, the door opened, and you saw Xavier's face peeking inside.

Without waiting for him to speak, you waved to your savior. You looked at him, then pointed to the box located at the highest position on the shelf. 

"You want me to get it down for you?"

You gave him a nod. And, with a gust of wind, he appeared right next to you.

Your hair was still hanging over your face from the breeze that had just passed. When you recovered consciousness, you noticed that the box you required was in Xavier's hands.

“Wooooooooow!”

That was all you could say. Your eyes widened and looked at him, mixed with admiration and gratitude.

Xavier maintained a somewhat tired expression on his face. He handed you the package and said in a calm tone:

“Do you need anything else?”

Your gaze was still locked on Xavier. As usual, he was already quite attractive, but when he rushed to your side and grabbed stuff for you in the blink of an eye, his coolness grew tremendously in proportion to your heartbeat.

"I need… that one!"

You pointed your finger at another row of shelves. In truth, you already had everything you needed for the mission, but watching more of Xavier using his skills in bringing everything from a higher place down for you wouldn't hurt.

"Okay."

As soon as he finished speaking, Xavier dashed to the shelf before returning to your side. All in a blink of an eye!

"That one too!" You pointed your finger in another way. "This one! That one! Two up there!…”

In only a few minutes, all the boxes stacked on high shelves were brought down and placed around you to form a wall made of cardboard.

"Woooooooow! "Xavier, you're so cool!"

You couldn't help but blurt out, causing the skin on his face below his blue eyes to grow scarlet. He came closer, put the last box in your hand and said:

“I've taken down all the things from higher shelves for you. Isn't it time I received my reward?”

Caught off guard when he suddenly leaned closer, you blushed a little in reply:

“Y-You… What do you want then…?…”

Xavier smiled mysteriously. He turned sideways and pointed at his cheek.

“You already know.”

Embarrassed, you placed a quick kiss on it. Xavier seemed unsatisfied.

“You really don't need all of these boxes, right? I heard that Jena will cut off the bonuses if she catches anyone tampering with the team's records. I can assist you clean up, but the prize must be more than this."

You chuckled. You'd become accustomed to his solicitation tactics.

"Please help me then. I assure you'll be pleased with the latter prize." After that, you lifted up his chin and gave Xavier an even deeper kiss on the opposite cheek.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

You were used to visiting Zayne's house every weekend or on days off. Even when he was not home, you still liked to be there waiting for his return. You had a habit of eating snacks, especially sweets. So you brought a lot of things to his house to eat together. And always, he kept them nicely organized in the refrigerator or cupboards over the stove.

But sometimes, he put them out of your reach. At moments like that, you called out his name from the kitchen.

“Doctor Zayne. Doctor Zayne. Doctor Zayneeeee.”

He appeared soon after. On the bridge of his nose was still a pair of reading glasses. He carefully adjusted it and sighed.

“What do you need this time?”

“That jar of fruit gummies.” You pointed at it.

“I'm not your ladder.” Despite his grumbling, Zayne still took it down for you. With his height, it did not appear to be a problem at all.

"Thank you." You said. “I don't want to bother you. Why did you have to put my snacks so high up there?”

“I put it away so some sweet-loving worm doesn't eat too much.”

“I'm not a worm.” You replied, pouting. Zayne patted your head.

"Alright. Would you like anything else?"

Zayne kept telling you not to eat too many snacks, but he still took them all down. He separated them into parts and placed them on a large plate. The rest was put away to make sure you did not consume too much.

Knowing he was concerned about your health, you didn't ask for anything else but ate all of the treats he brought out. However, it was only when Zayne was away that you could properly appreciate his caring nature. Outside your snack cupboard was a letter with Zayne's handwritten words, which you took forever to read. It turned out he had moved your food to another place within your reach. Inside that cabinet was a candy tray with a lid. Zayne had prepared everything for you, with one additional note: Don't eat too much.

You burst out laughing. In response to his concern, you decided to rearrange his working space. Because he had left in a hurry to go to the hospital that day, his books were still not put away. That night, you caught him walking back and forth in front of his bookshelf, his expression rather serious.

“Did you rearrange the bookshelf?”

"Yes."

You replied. He placed his both hands on the bookshelf in front of him, skimming through the book titles printed on the spine. The book he had been reading in the morning was nowhere to be seen. Rather, you slithered right into the gap between his arms, making him turn to face you.

The sudden close distance made him a bit surprised. However, he maintained his composure and gazed down at you. The book he was looking for was in your hand. He smiled:

"What's wrong? You couldn't put it back since you found its place to be too high?"

You said with a pout, "If that's the case, then I won't give it to you."

You hid the book behind your back. WWho would have imagined that Dr. Zayne would boldly lean down, one arm around your waist to draw you in, while the other hand taking the book away from you.

You could hear his heartbeat matching yours as he pressed his body against you to return that book to its proper place on the shelf. He looked down at you, who was extremely confused. You asked:

“Aren't you going to read it?”

"No. I'm preoccupied with something else.”

He leaned down again, and kissed you.

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

Your favorite store had just been redecorated, and the items you needed had been moved elsewhere. Most of them were within your reach, but some decorations with lights were located high up. You turned around to look for help, but the store staff was already busy with another customer. So you looked in the other direction, where you found Rafayel staring at some little decorative fish bowls.

“Rafayel. Please help me get this thing.”

Rafayel turned to face whichever way your finger was pointing. He would waste no effort to reach the lamp you needed. He placed his hand on a spherical night lamp.

"Is this the one?"

"Not that one. The one in purple.”

His hand went to another. "This?"

“Nooooo. I said the purple one…”

"This one has purple in it." Rafayel put his hand on a purple lamp, but it wasn't what you wanted.

“Rafayel. The purple one. In the shape of a jellyfish."

“Hmm…” Rafayel pretended not to see what you described, even though it was right in front of him. "All I see is a seahorse and a whale."

He's definitely teasing you. You scowled:

“I'm not joking with you, Rafayel. Get the jellyfish lamp!”

“Are you sure?” He reposed the question with great seriousness. “This jellyfish is so ugly and painful to look at that my eyes automatically ignore it.”

You puffed your cheeks and said each word clearly: “Take. That. Jellyfish. Lamp!"

"Okay." Rafayel gave a shrug. At last, his hand found the precise object you wanted. He lifted it. But instead of placing it in your eagerly outstretched palms, he put it on a higher shelf.

“Rafayel!” YYou yelled out of rage. He grinned from ear to ear.

“Here, you told me to take it, so I took it. You didn't mention that I had to give it to you"

“You!… Argghhh!…”

You were so furious that you failed to speak. You stood on your tiptoes and jumped up, trying to grab the item, but Rafayel raised the object entirely.

“Give it to me! Give it to me!” You danced in a circle around Rafayel, who was clutching the jellyfish lamp like a trophy. All eyes in the store turned to both of you. You stopped. Your face was red, both from anger and embarrassment.

You looked at Rafayel, who was teasing you with that handsome but punchable face. Then, like a light bulb had just turned on in your head, you thought of a way to "repress" him.

Your hands stretched out. Rafayel thought you were aiming for the lamp so he raised it even higher. But it was his collar you were after. He wasn't on guard so you pulled him down so easily, so close. Until your lips touch his delicate ones.

Rafayel rolled his eyes. He was so surprised. Taking advantage of the situation when his arm was gradually falling, you immediately grabbed the jellyfish lamp and stepped back, holding it triumphantly in your arms.

“Ha! I snatched it from you!”

Rafayel was in disbelief. He had earlobes the color of ripe tomatoes. With one hand softly brushing his lips, he turned to face you.

“You… cheated.” He said, "In that case, you can snatch me too!"

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

It had been a long time since both Caleb and you had a chance to go home to visit Grandma. A family meal was inevitable. He took you to the supermarket near your house to shop and prepare dinner.

Caleb knew too much about your taste. You simply followed him and let him select nearly everything. But when you were walking by the snack shelves, your gaze unintentionally paused at the top row, where there was a particular kind of cookie that you and Caleb used to enjoy together as children.

After noticing your halt, Caleb turned to face you.

“Oh, they still sell this?” He spoke up.

“I want to buy it!” You told him. One hand reached up but you couldn't get the snacks. You heard Caleb laughing hysterically next to you. You folded your arms and pouted: "What are you laughing at?" Why don't you get it for me?"

"I assumed you could handle anything on your own since you're already an adult." Caleb made a joke. “Remember when we were kids? Every time you couldn't reach something, you ran to me and tugged my arm?”

You reminisced about your childhood days. Whenever you needed to get something from a high place, the first person you called was Caleb. He would bend down so you could climb on his shoulders and then carry you like that until you got what you wanted.

“Yeah. I remember." You replied. “But why— Ouch!”

Caleb suddenly bent down, wrapped his muscular arms around your thighs and lifted you up.

“Caleb?! What are you doing?!" Your arms wrapped around Caleb's neck, holding on tight as if your life depended on this. You looked down at Caleb's grinning face. He responded:

“I'm helping you get your cookies.”

“N-Not like this!…” You blushed. You had grown up and no longer the innocent little girl you used to be. Being lifted up by him like this made you extremely timid. “People… People are looking at us…”

“Ignore them.” Caleb paid no attention to his surroundings. “Just look at me.”

You felt the heat radiating from your cheeks. Caleb didn't stop there, he asked you:

"Ready?"

"Huh?"

Without waiting for your response, he spun around so fast in that posture, which made you scream suddenly. You leaned entirely on Caleb, counting on him to keep you both balanced. He continued to rotate a few more times, before becoming lightheaded himself. Then he came to a complete halt and rested his back against the shelf.

You both burst into laughter. Laughing until your stomach muscles start to hurt. But Caleb still didn't let you go. He breathed heavily and said:

“I just remembered. Besides helping you get things from high places, I also helped you climb that wall when you snuck out without Gran knowing!"

“It was completely your idea!” You pinched his nose. “After that, both of us got grounded by Grandma.”

"Sorry." Caleb chuckled. “Shall I make it up to you with cookies?”

“Then help me up a little higher.” You uttered it out with joy. “Let's buy all the cookies here!”

#fanfiction #fanfic #heart hunters series #love and deepspace fanfic #character x reader #character x mc #zayne #xavier #caleb #rafayel #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #zayne x you #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #caleb x you #rafayel x mc #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #xavier x mc #xavier x reader #xavier x you #li shen #shen xinghui #xia yizhou #qi yu #lnd #l&d #banners and dividers by me

[chvoswxtch]

Girl I have been silently reading and praising your stuff from my sisters account. Like liking all you stuff for safekeeping. The whole thing crashed and now I am trying to do the whole interacting thing. I am so embarrassed and scared that my idea is shit so this I am anonymous. But listen - I check your blog every day for updates. I luv u.

Okay my request is a bit messy. But like an angsty/fluf fic with Frank and a woman who is like small but indestructible - you know like a super power or x-gene thing. You cant see any wounds on her body they´ll just heal or something. And all she wants to do is protect Frank and he is just not having it.

If this is shit and not duable I get it! And if I missed somebody writing something simular please share the link - I would love it! Rant over...sorry...and thank you <34567

hi nonnie!

firstly, welcome. there's no need to hide in the shadows, or to apologize or feel embarrassed or any of that. i'm happy you're here and felt comfortable sharing your idea with me! I actually got a somewhat similar request, so I ended up combining the two to get the best of both worlds :)

also if you're into frank x powered reader, I highly recommend @grippingbeskar! she has an entire completed series called salt, ice, and fire that is phenomenal that I can't gush about enough

I hope you enjoy!

warning: swearing, mentions of guns & blood word count: 1.4k

bulletproof.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the fuck are you doin’?”

Frank’s thick brows were angrily bunched up in the middle of his forehead, a trail of crimson slowly leaking from the cut that covered the bridge of his freshly broken nose. His jaw was harshly set and he scowled deeply at you while switching out the cartridge on his rifle by muscle memory, not even having to look down.

“I told you-“

“No, I told you to take the goddamn stairs to the roof while I took out-

“I had it under control, Frank!”

Frank scoffed and let out an exasperated puff of air through his lips while shaking his head and gesturing towards you loosely with his free hand.

“Under control my ass, look at you. If you had fuckin’ listened to me, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ right now.”

Frank’s voice had risen in volume, and the timbre of it carried through the empty space between the two of you with a subtle growl. He might have been pissed at you, but you were fucking furious with him. You’d lost count of how many times the two of you fought about the exact same fucking thing over and over, and you weren’t arguing about it with him anymore. 

The heavy sound of approaching footsteps and yells caught Frank’s attention, but as he began to march towards the open loading dock of the abandoned warehouse with purpose and a raging vendetta burning in his eyes, the metal shutter door suddenly came barreling down with a wave of your hand. It collided with the concrete floor, a loud thud echoing around the space, not only preventing Frank from getting out, but anyone else from getting in.

Frank instantly paused, snapping his head to look over his shoulder at you with an expression of pure annoyance covering his sharp features. Your eye color had shifted to an incandescent shade, glimmering like two deep red rubies caught in the sunlight. There was still a flickering scarlet glow around your right hand as you kept the door shut, and Frank could tell by the look on your face that you were incensed by his behavior, but he refused to back down anymore than you did.

Grabbing the hem of your top with your left hand, you hastily lifted it upwards just as one of the bullet holes above your right hip began to close up and heal. Frank’s narrowed gaze dropped downwards to watch, and his features softened just a sliver, only to harden once again when he looked back into your illuminated eyes. 

“I can heal, Frank. You can’t. So when I tell you I have something under control, that doesn’t mean you fucking jump in front of me guns blazing. That bulletproof vest can’t protect you from everything, and I swear to whatever God you believe in, if you pull that shit again and get yourself killed, I will find a way to raise you from the dead just to kill you myself.”

Frank didn’t visibly react to your words, even as your voice rose in a hysterical volume and filled the empty space surrounding you both. Any other person might have been fucking terrified to be alone with a woman that had glowing red eyes and could trap them somewhere with her mind. Then again, anyone else probably also would’ve been scared shitless to be alone in a room with the Punisher himself. 

But Frank wasn’t afraid of you, just like you weren’t afraid of him. You both knew what the other was, and you loved each other anyway.

That was the root cause of your recurring argument. Frank wanted to protect you, and you wanted to protect him. Despite him knowing about your abilities, he still felt responsible for you. He didn’t like seeing you get hurt, even if it did heal. He didn’t want anything to happen to you if he could prevent it.

Letting his rifle drop by his side, Frank let out a deep exhale through his broken nose, his eyes wandering over your figure slowly before meeting your gaze.

“You know how much I hate seein’ you get hurt, baby. You know what it does to me.”

The sudden change in his voice to a softer and more sincere tone had your eyes shifting back to their natural color, and your previous anger began to instantly cool. You did know. If someone so much as bumped into you on accident, Frank was ready to tear them to shreds. He had always been extremely overprotective of you, and knowing his traumatic past, you couldn’t blame him, or stay upset with him for very long.

Letting out a soft sigh of your own, you ran one of your hands through your hair before taking a few steps towards him, your heeled boots echoing along the cement floors. Despite the three inches of height they gave you, Frank still towered over you completely. The size difference between the two of you was nearly comical, especially considering he was the “big and scary” one.

But you were the little witch that had a nasty temper.

“You think I enjoy seeing you get hurt? I’m the one who has to fix you up, remember?”

Neither one of you paid any mind to the incessant banging on the shutter door, or the sound of ricocheting bullets and yelling coming from the other side. When you brought your hands up to gently grab Frank’s face, he leaned down to nuzzle into your palms and instantly melted into your touch, his attention solely focused on you.

“I know.”

Brushing your thumb lightly along the violet bruise that began to bloom on his right cheekbone, you took in the cut along the bridge of his nose and frowned softly with a sigh.

“Your nose is broken again.”

“Ain’t the first, won’t be the last.”

“Can I try something?”

Frank arched one of his thick brows in question, glancing over his shoulder momentarily at the shutter door before looking at you again.

“Right now?”

“You have somewhere to be?”

Rolling his eyes, Frank let out a soft chuckle and gave a slight nod of his head.

“Alright. S’pose they ain’t gettin’ in no time soon.”

A proud smirk was all you offered in return to his comment. Taking a deep breath, you removed your right hand from his face and let your index finger hover over his wounded nose. Focusing intently, your hand was once again glowing, and you traced a crimson line in the air from the top to the bottom of his nose. All of a sudden, the cut on the bridge of his nose sealed up, and the indigo patches that had blossomed around it vanished.

Frank blinked a few times in dumbfoundment, wiggling his large nose and glancing down at it in a mixture of confusion and awe. Your own eyes widened in surprise, and your mouth hung open in shock before your lips parted into a wide grin. Frank looked at you, his features twisted up in wonder and puzzlement.

“Holy shit. How the hell did you do that?”

“I…I don’t know. I just…wanted to see if I could, and…focused really hard. I can’t believe it actually worked!”

Frank stared down at you incredulously when you said that.

“The hell you mean you can’t believe it actually worked? You didn’t know it would? What if you had given me a tail or somethin’? Or put my ass where my nose was?”

“Oh, well then I could never kiss you again.”

Frank actually looked offended by that, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression while you gently patted his shoulder and stepped around him to face the shutter door, brushing your hair off your shoulders.

“Alright big guy, let’s wrap this up. I’m starving, and there’s a Gilmore Girls marathon waiting with our name on it.”

Frank’s plush lips pursed in an adorable pout as he cocked his rifle and aimed towards the shutter door, keeping his narrowed gaze locked on you.

“You and I are gonna have a serious talk ‘bout this magic shit when we get home.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle request #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher request #the punisher fic

[givemea-dam-break]

daughters of the evening

⭒⭒⭒⭒ in which luke’s descent from good may be found.

pairing: luke castellan x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys!! first fic in a while and i know, i know, pjo book readers are disappointed in me… but i’m just a girl! i’m literally just a girl! please enjoy my brain baby i love her :) i love writing quests so much, so this was really nice to write for my first fic back on tumblr. i hope you guys enjoy! if anybody wants to be added to my pjo taglist, let me know!

warnings: canon typical violence, book spoilers, blood/injury description, rusty writing

words: 5.8K ⭒⭒⭒⭒

(y/n) couldn’t remember when the change in Luke became permanent.

She could remember the hints of something at the corners of his eyes, something that bit at the happiness that filled them, eating away at it like rot on wood. She could remember the slow decline in his respect for his father, respect that had barely been there for years, though was now bridging on outright disrespect.

She could remember the crux of it all, the very moment in which all of the little things began to coalesce into something ugly. A flash of claws, the deep scarlet of mortal blood followed by shimmering gold ichor. The horrible sound of screaming. Gleaming fruits of gold. Gorgeous, blooming green trees towering above them that concealed the violence below.

It was after the quest that Luke, her Luke, was never the same.

⭒⭒

“I don’t remember San Francisco looking like this.”

Luke’s lips curled into a smile. “You’ve never been to San Francisco.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen it in movies through which I have lived vicariously. It’s in one of the Indiana Jones’s, right? Looks different.”

“Those movies are from the eighties,” Luke said. “So, yeah, it’s going to look different.”

Charles Beckendorf, their questmate, heaved a sigh. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Stop what?” (y/n) asked.

“Being annoying? Flirting? Whatever you want to call it.”

Her face felt awfully hot and she found herself unable to even look in Luke’s general direction. It was a comment that had been made many times in the past, one she was sure Luke was sick to death of, but she found herself yearning for comments like it. They meant that maybe she wasn’t dreaming up something between them.

Either way, she didn’t acknowledge it, rather stuffing her hand into her unzipped backpack and scrounging around until finally she found what she wanted. With a dramatic flair, she revealed three paper maps, each embellished with their names written in colourful pen at the top.

A moment of silence, then Luke said, “Why do we need a map each? Can’t we just share? And where did you even get those?”

“I got them back in Salt Lake City, before we happened upon that massive crab, you remember the one? All blue and slimy.” She pressed the maps into their hands. “There are multiple because knowing you both, you’ll lose them and I’m not buying any more. But, look! They’re colour-coded. Green for me because, duh, Demeter. Orange for Beckendorf, red for you. We can at least make this quest for some stupid apples interesting.”

Beckendorf raised a brow, giving her a strange look. “With glittery gel pen?”

“Glittery gel pen makes everything better,” she insisted. “I’m glad you acknowledge that. Now, come on. With all this talking you two have been doing, we don’t have much time to spare. You’re like a pair of gossiping grannies.”

The two shared a look over her head, one they thought she didn’t see, but it only made her hold back a laugh. They were a relatively upbeat group as it was, but she prided herself on keeping the mood light, especially when danger was looming. With the might of glittery gel pens, a travel-size game of Monopoly, and a cheesy puns book they had picked up off the side of the road, they would be unstoppable should their enemies need a good laugh.

It wasn’t that they weren’t capable of what was ahead of them that she felt the need to joke around, it was just her regular nerves. The three of them were experienced and powerful demigods, skilled fighters and strategists, the best of the best. Luke had his immense skill with a sword and the mind of a trickster; Beckendorf had the brains and strength of a blacksmith, and could sense a trap a mile away and disarm it in moments; (y/n) herself was a powerful daughter of Demeter and, though not to the standard of Luke, was also skilled with a sword.

They hadn’t faced much trouble before. They were a tried-and-tested trio, having been on multiple quests together in the past and finding themselves working well together. 

This time, it seemed like a match made by the Fates. A quest ordained by Hermes, Luke’s father, to retrieve the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides - gardens and plants being the domain of Demeter and, by extension, (y/n). And, no doubt, there would be many traps or the need for a strong mind, hence Beckendorf. He was a year or two younger than she and Luke, but had proved himself upon countless occasions. She trusted him with her life.

Almost a week now they’d been on this quest, and still she felt like a giddy child. Almost seventeen and, at her big age, she was holding back smiles and giggles befitting of a schoolgirl with a crush. Part of it was gratefulness that a demigod such as Luke had chosen her to join him on this quest, even after being friends for years and having gone on numerous quests together already. Part of it was simply that she was madly in love with the boy.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then, watching the way the afternoon sun gleamed on his face, setting his dark eyes alight with flame. There was a curious smile on his lips, one that concealed mischief and intelligence; one she had loved for as long as she could remember. His hair was messy after days of travelling and not bothering to fuss with it - she dreaded to think of what her own looked like, the only mirror she had being her sword - but there was something so extremely endearing about it. Wild curls that gave his lightly-freckled face even more life.

Their maps didn’t help their hunt for the Garden an awful lot. For what had to have been at least two hours, they stumbled around the city, turning this way and that, earning odd looks from strangers. 

“For being the son of the god of travellers,” (y/n) said, “you are horrendous at reading a map.”

Luke gave her a nudge with his elbow as he scanned the map. He was grinning. Her stomach was doing cartwheels. “Maps make sense enough, but I think these ones are out of date.”

“Maps don’t go out of date, stupid.”

Beckendorf was holding back a smile. “I think he’s right. I think our maps are too old.”

(y/n) glowered at them, plucking their maps from their hands. Fine. They didn’t deserve to hold maps graced with her glittery gel pens anyways.

“Well,” she said. “Unless either of you have any ideas, we’re going to be stuck wandering for hours. Come on, Luke. Use your magicky journey powers. They got us this far.”

His eyes shone, and her knees felt a little weak. She loved it when he looked at her like that, when she had said something funny. It was as though the heavens themselves had descended and flooded his face with light and beauty. She couldn’t look away.

“It’s a big garden,” he retorted. “Find the big garden, daughter of the mighty Demeter!”

She knew he meant it as a joke - the sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice - but there was something in his tone that she couldn’t identify. Something deeper than a simple sarcastic comment. This had been a pity quest, of sorts, she knew. Luke had been getting restless and his father had wanted to satiate him, but it wasn’t enough. He was displeased with the gods, to say the least.

But he kept a good lock on his expressions, on his words. She wouldn’t have suspected a thing had she not known him as well as she knew the feeling of grass beneath her feet.

Eventually, combining their powers and the single brain cell that seemed to be taken by Beckendorf, they found their way to the Mount Tamalpais State Park, which was not open to visitors now that the sun was setting.

They stared up at the distant mountain, the sloping greenland and towering trees that led towards it, and heaved a synonymous groan. Quests could never be even slightly easy, it seemed. Why would the gods let them head to a random park in the city when they could have them trespassing in a state park at night, lives in the hands of the monsters and animals alike that roamed the woods? The gods would rather have them arrested than have something be easy.

“You’re kidding, right?” Beckendorf said. “We don’t have to walk all that way?”

(y/n) frowned. She wished more than anything that they could just turn around and leave, a feeling she did not often get on quests. But something didn’t feel right. There was a twist in her gut, a deep intuition that told her something was going to go wrong.

But her gut was also pulling her towards the mountain. There was a power there, unlike any she had felt before, and she wanted to know what it was. 

“We’ll be fine,” she insisted, though she didn’t feel entirely sure herself.

She was the first to make the step towards their darkening fates. If she had known the outcome, she would have turned and fled immediately.

The three of them trudged up the path, flicking on torches when the sky grew darker and the ground in front of them too hard to see. It gave them an eerie glow, entirely unlike the warm glow of their weapons. All of their features were in stark contrast to the dark surroundings; Luke’s cheekbones, Beckendorf’s eyes, her brownbone. It was disconcerting, and it felt all too much like they were the lead characters in a ghost story.

She was considering turning back about halfway there. The tug in her gut was becoming stronger, almost unbearable, and her head was pounding, filled with the worry of the possible incidents that had not happened yet. 

The only thing that kept her going was Luke’s pinky finger wrapped around hers.

Maybe he felt her nerves, so acute that she feared her sinews and tendons and bones could snap at any moment. But Luke knew her. He had known her since they were barely teenagers. He knew her better than she knew herself: every habit she had; every face she made; every hint of a feeling before she knew it was coming. He had some deep understanding of her, one that would have made her feel vulnerable in any other situation with any other person. Luke was not any other person.

His pinky was wrapped around hers tightly, warmer than the rest of her body put together. It curled around hers just so, acknowledging her worry. His jacket sleeve brushed hers.

It wasn’t until they reached the Garden at the foot of the mountain that his hand wrapped around hers fully, encasing it entirely in warmth and comfort. His palms were calloused, fingers ribbed with light scars, but she could not imagine it any other way.

The Garden of the Hesperides was easily the most beautiful place she had ever seen and was likely the most beautiful place she would ever see. Stars hung above them in the night sky, glittering so brightly it was as though they could reach out and touch them with their outstretched fingers. Lush green grass coated the ground beneath their feet and beyond, speckled with flowers so bright they almost glowed in the dark. It was bristling with life, so full of it that (y/n) could feel it all deep in her bones.

But the source of the power lay further afield.

A tree, much taller than the rest, stood at the centre of the garden, boasting more golden apples than (y/n) could count. Its branches swayed in the faint breeze in mesmerising swoops, and the scent of fresh fruit laced with something that could only be described as addictive brushed over them. A faint mist swirled around the trunk of the tree, glittering slightly in the moonlight.

“Holy Hephaestus,” Beckendorf murmured, slack-jawed.

“That’s one big tree,” Luke said. 

“You certainly have a way with words,” (y/n) said.

His hand only squeezed hers in response. She could feel his heartbeat in his wrist. How was it so steady?

There was a shift in the wind, then, and a soft bite came into the air. Goosebumps prickled the skin of their arms, raising the hair there. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could hear the faintest lull of singing voices and could feel the weight of some large presence in the air. Nothing could be seen but the beautiful garden and the decadent tree in the centre.

“Luke Castellan,” said a soft voice. Luke visibly tensed, eyes narrowing at the usage of his surname. “(y/n) (l/n). Charles Beckendorf. We have been expecting you in our Garden for quite some time now.”

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. But, finally, after a few moments, the speaker emerged from the fine mist.

She didn’t look like much, appearing to be barely older than (y/n), but there was something about her surrounding aura that suggested she was much, much older. Dark, inky hair tumbled over narrow tawny shoulders, framing even darker eyes that shone with unknown magic. The woman seemed to blink slowly, as if bored or tired, and it looked as though she were merely floating over the ground rather than walking. It was hard to tell. Her Greek chiton covered her feet.

“We are the Hesperides,” she said, voice ever gentle, as four more women appeared, each almost identical in appearance. “Daughters of the Evening. Nymphs of the Sunset. Protectors of this Garden. What is your business here?”

There was a cockiness to Luke’s smile then, one that had (y/n) on edge. “If you’ve been expecting us, then surely you know our business.”

The lead Hesperide drew nearer, stopping a few feet away from their trio. Her sisters gathered at her sides, dark eyes sparkling with stars and cold curiosity and something overtly bitter. The demigods were clearly unwelcome here, but they intended to make a game of their quest.

(y/n)’s hand squeezed Luke’s in warning. He spared her a glance, her heart drawing still when his warm eyes met hers. His chin dipped slightly in a nod, and he gave her hand a squeeze before turning his attention back to the Hesperides.

“We’ve been sent here on a quest by my father Hermes,” Luke announced. His voice held more confidence than she felt. “We’re here to retrieve a golden apple.”

It was strange watching the Hesperides’ heads tilt in unison as if they were each an extension of the other. Voices lulled around them, soft and gentle, and the worry seeped from her very bones. Her hand fell from Luke’s. Something felt strangely at ease in her stomach despite their circumstances.

“You may try,” said the lead Hesperide. Her skin glimmered like marble in the moonlight. “Our dearest Ladon protects this tree with his life. He does not sleep. Every second of every day, he guards our gift from Gaea, the goddess Hera’s wedding gift. Do not think it will be easy to pass him.”

The Hesperides seemed to fade into the mist, then, their bodies becoming light and transparent as they slowly backed away until nothing was left but the faint singing swirling around them. The voices gave (y/n) a strange feeling, as though pulling her towards the tree.

“Who’s Ladon?” Beckendorf asked.

The three of them stood for a moment, watching the swirling mist.

“A dragon,” (y/n) said. “A big dragon.”

She could feel his presence, she realised. The heavy weight that had settled over them upon entering the Garden, it couldn’t be anything else. Even still, she could feel him through the ground, like an impending sense of death and doom. She’d had similar feelings before, an innate knowledge that the strawberry fields were close to wilting one year. Campers had called her crazy, but she knew. The earth knew.

And it knew now. She was horribly aware of the heaviness in her gut that surrounded the bright power of the apple tree. It could be nothing but Ladon.

“Any ideas, Luke?” she asked. “You’re our idea guy.”

He scoffed. “Since when? You’ve been dragging us around by our ears this entire quest.”

But he could see the nerves that she felt. He knew how strange this was for her, to feel so deeply worried about a quest. He knew something was wrong.

“I’ll get the apple,” he said, and his shoulders rose with confidence. His hand, the one that had held (y/n)’s moments ago, twitched just so. “I’m the fastest out of the three of us. You two, keep our friend distracted.”

There was a deep grumble at that moment, as if Ladon were making himself known. It shook the ground and the boughs of the tree trembled. Sweet-smelling apples tumbled into the mist.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to get the apples?” (y/n) asked. “You brought along a daughter of Demeter for a reason.”

He smiled softly at her. “That’s not the reason I brought you along.”

And, before either she or Beckendorf could protest his stupidity or question his statement, Luke’s glowing sword materialised in his hand and he was running into the mist.

The mist spread apart as his feet made contact, and (y/n)’s heart dropped. Beckendorf, one of the bravest demigods she had ever met despite his age, had a tremor in his hands as he pulled free his sword.

Within the mist was the largest monster (y/n) had ever seen. It was wrapped around the tree in a serpentine-like way, scales glimmering in the moonlight like molten copper and bronze. Massive claws sunk into the dirt surrounding the tree, at least the length of her forearm and as wide as Beckendorf’s. Every breath it released shook the branches of the tree as though caught in a gale.

The most horrifying part: the dragon had a hundred heads.

She had read about Ladon, had familiarised herself with the myths surrounding the Hesperides. Days before the quest, she and Luke had sat down at the canoe lake, poring over old history books that told the tale of Heracles and his Twelve Labours, one of which was the very quest they were being made to repeat. Luke had made a joke of it back then, unhappy with the quest he had been given and disbelieving that what they faced would be much of a threat.

But Ladon was no joke. It was an entirely different thing seeing drawings of the dragon and seeing him in real life. His hundred heads slithered through the air like snakes on the water, luminous yellow eyes watching the demigods with piqued interest. 

Even Luke faltered.

A deep breath came from all two hundred of the dragon’s nostrils, washing over them in a hot, acidic wave. The smell alone was horrendous, like an old, decrepit sewer filled with rotting rats, and it had the hairs on her arms standing and her eyes burning. 

She was worried that she may never be able to move again, frozen in place by the sheer might of Ladon, but when Luke turned to look at her, blood flooded into her veins again. He was counting on her. She wouldn’t let him down.

Ladon expected a frontal assault. He was waiting for Luke to attack, watching like a predator on prey, but he did not expect the very tree he protected to act against him.

With a heave of energy, (y/n) stretched out her arm and watched as the tree’s trunk began to swell as if filling with liquid. Ladon’s serpentine body writhed around it, twisting as he moved to accommodate the growing tree. The branches above him shook, dipping towards the ground slowly. Too slowly.

The dragon seemed to realise what, or who, was causing the change, and snarled ferociously. It was at that moment that Beckendorf grabbed a ball of Celestial bronze from his belt and, with a strong arm and remarkably good aim, threw it at the beast.

An explosion of green ignited before them as the ball slammed into Ladon’s thick hide. The dragon roared, whether in pain or fury, and set its bright gaze on (y/n) and Beckendorf.

Fear coursed through her body. She could hardly breathe. The branches wavered, pausing the pursuit to the ground. Beckendorf launched another one of his Celestial bronze bombs.

A pity quest, that’s what this had been. But, maybe, it was more than that. Maybe this was Hermes’ punishment for Luke wanting more from his life. Maybe this was (y/n)’s consequence for falling so irrevocably in love with Luke - for feeling the way she did, she would have to follow him to impossible circumstances.

But none of them deserved it.

It was at that moment that Luke took his leap.

With speed befitting a child of Hermes, he leapt onto Ladon’s mighty body, feet finding purchase on his rough scales, and launched himself upwards towards the descending branches.

For a moment, there was hope. Even Heracles had not retrieved the apples by facing Ladon, but maybe Luke would. Perhaps Luke would succeed where Heracles had not. Pride swelled in her heart, coated her tongue like warm honey, and she almost smiled.

Copper-coloured claws flashed in the moonlight. A chorus of soft, harmonising voices swirled around them like mist.

Mistake, they sang. The boy has made a mistake.

There was a cry of pain so guttural that (y/n) felt it in her soul. Her feet were moving before she could truly comprehend what was happening. The grass tried to reach for her ankles, tried to stop her in her mission, but nothing could. Had a god stood before her, she would have found her way past them. Nothing could stop her, not even this dragon that caused such fear in her bones.

She reached Luke as Ladon wound around the tree tightly, snarling protectively. Something in the beast’s demeanour hinted at pain beneath the danger, and when she saw the gold blood pooling just a few feet away, she knew why.

A claw, one of Ladon’s, severed from the knuckle down lay strewn in the grass. The dragon hissed as Beckendorf snatched it up, hefting his sword as (y/n) pulled Luke away.

He was bleeding badly. A deep gash ran from the tip of his brow down to the corner of his  mouth, somehow missing his eye but cutting just above and below. His skin was already becoming dangerously pale. Her hands were covered in blood. His blood. She was going to be sick.

“Hey,” she murmured, gently laying his head on her lap. Her hands trembled as she reached into her bag. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Luke shuddered, eyes half-lidded and struggling to find something to focus on. “Are you -?”

“I’m fine,” she said. After a terrible moment, one that took far too long, she pulled free a small vial of nectar, wrapped tightly in old face-cloths to keep it from smashing in her bag. Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she tried to unwrap it.

Beckendorf knelt beside her, claw at his side, and took the vial from her hands. She didn’t know how his hands could be so steady. She could hardly breathe. Not with Luke so injured, not with Ladon eyeing them hungrily.

He handed the vial back, and she propped Luke’s head up slightly. With a hiss of pain, she managed to open his mouth just enough to pour the small amount of nectar in. He swallowed with a struggle.

There was no telling how long it would take the nectar to work, but they couldn’t stay there under the watchful glare of Ladon, who looked ready to attack again. (y/n) took a trembling breath.

“Beckendorf,” she said, “are you able to carry him? At least until we can get out of this place. I can try - I can clean the wound when we’re safe.”

He nodded and hoisted Luke up into his arms, careful not to jostle his head too much.

She didn’t realise she had been crying until they stopped.

Beckendorf set Luke down on a soft patch of grass beyond the Garden, and (y/n) tucked her jacket underneath his head. The nectar seemed to be working, albeit slowly. Some colour was returning to his skin, but it was hard to see under all of the blood.

“You’re okay,” she murmured again, but she wasn’t sure who she was telling. She wiped her tears with the back of her hands.

She grabbed one of the face-cloths the vial of nectar had been wrapped in, soaking it in water from her water bottle, and slowly brought it to Luke’s face.

His eyes seemed to have some ability to focus now, watching her beneath a glaze of pain. It tore her soul in half to see him in pain, wincing as she gently dabbed the blood from his cheek. Her fingers were stained. His cheek was, too.

“I’m going to keep watch,” said Beckendorf. “Those Hesperides gave me a bad feeling.”

(y/n) nodded, watching for a moment as he trudged a few feet away, just out of earshot, but her focus soon returned to Luke. She tried not to think too much about how his hand was gripping her knee as she cleaned the rest of the blood.

“Is the nectar working?” she asked when she saw his eyes drooping. “What does it taste like?”

His gaze found hers, warm and cloudy. A pained smile fought its way onto his lips despite the slowly-healing scar on his cheek. She could see the skin trying to sew itself back together with the aid of the nectar.

“That smoothie you made a few months back with the - with the camp’s strawberries,” he uttered. “And whatever those green leaves were.”

She found herself smiling despite the red coating her hands. “Mint. And it was that good, huh? Last I checked, nectar for you tasted like that weird concoction of Coke and Sprite you liked so much.”

For a moment, his eyes grew distant before refocusing on her face. They flickered over her features as if seeing them for the first time. His hand felt awfully warm on her knee.

“Anything you make is better,” he said. 

“Is that so?” She brushed his hair back from his face softly, cleaning the last bits of blood.

His skin was still stitching itself back together, but the nectar seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Second by second, blood flooded back into his face, giving him the colour that seemed to have been leached from his skin.

He nodded, his smile seeming as though it pained him less. His hand slipped from her knee, coming up to wrap itself around hers. The cloth fell from her fingers and onto the grass. Her fingers were still wet, though in the dim light she couldn’t tell if it was from water or lingering blood. She didn’t have the stomach to find out.

“You said you didn’t bring me on this quest because of my mother,” she said cautiously. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “So why did you?”

A soft squeeze of her hand. “This wasn’t a quest I wanted to do without you,” he said. “I like having you by my side. You give me strength.”

She was sure he could feel her pulse beating rapidly in her fingers, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t need to. It was entirely likely that he was able to read her mind, he knew her so well. And she was okay with that.

“You’re stupid, you know,” she said, but her voice wavered.

“Stupidly brave?” he suggested. “Stupidly handsome? Stupidly charming?”

“I’m supposed to be supporting you right now,” she grumbled. “Not the other way around.”

His cocky grin was back and her heart fluttered. “Which one is it?”

“Which what?”

“Stupidly brave, handsome, or charming?”

All three, she thought. All three and so much more.

“Stupidly stupid,” she decided. 

Her thumb grazed his cheekbone, the one without the scar, and a shiver ran through his body. His hand tightened on hers and his smile softened into something more personal. It was the kind of smile she would have leapt into Tartarus to ensure its permanence on his lips. Soft and kind and reserved just for her. If she'd been standing, her knees would have buckled.

“You give me strength, too,” she murmured.

A sliver of hair slipped in front of her eyes, and moments later, Luke’s free hand was there, gently brushing it away. His eyes sparkled. They seemed clearer now, less agonised.

The events of the last hour - gods, it had felt like much longer - came crashing back onto her at his touch, asphyxiating and terrifying. Overwhelming guilt filled her veins and arteries with terrible speed, sapping all the strength from her bones. Her fingers trembled once more.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat felt suddenly raw. “If I’d done a better job distracting Ladon, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Luke’s eyes were dark for a moment, swirling with something she couldn’t identify, but they softened seconds later. His hand rested on her cheek, warm and comforting, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at his eyes now.

“This is not your fault,” he said, and his voice was remarkably strong. “This is the gods’ fault. It’s my father’s fault. But it is not your fault.”

She tried to believe him, truly she did, but looking at the fresh scar on his face, even having been almost entirely healed with nectar, had her heart heavy in her chest. 

He knew this. Gods, he knew her every thought. His hand slipped from hers, cupping her other cheek and tilting her head so that she would look at him properly. There was a flush to his cheeks now - good, it meant he was getting better. 

“My father did this,” he insisted. “You hear me? This was not you. And, gods, believe me when I say that I’m glad it was me that went for the apples and not you. I couldn’t live with myself if you got injured.”

But you did, she wanted to say - no, scream. How do I live with that?

“I’m okay,” he said softly, cautiously, as if talking to a child who had just woken from a nightmare. “I’m okay.”

His hand fell from her face, taking hers in its grip once more, and placed her fingers on the newly formed scar.

She jerked back, terrified that the sensation would cause him more pain, but he just gave her that smile again, the one that made her knees feel like jelly, and pressed her fingers to it once more. Already, the skin was raised and slightly twisted, accommodating for the injury. She could faintly feel his pulse beneath his skin, slow and infuriatingly steady.

“It doesn't hurt,” he promised. His voice was so reassuring that she could feel it in her bones, and she was half-convinced he was secretly a child of Aphrodite, blessed with charmspeak. “I’m okay because of you.”

Her throat was achy. “And Beckendorf.”

He gave a small laugh. “And Beckendorf. But mainly you. You’ve given me strength.”

It was then that the world itself seemed to stop. He was leaning upwards, bringing her face close to his, and his lips brushed hers so softly that she feared she may have been dreaming the entire encounter.

She could taste the faint remnants of metallic blood, though it was easily brushed aside. Luke’s lips were slightly wind-chapped but she found herself uncaring when they slotted perfectly against hers.

This kiss was something she had been waiting years for, and it was better than she could have ever dreamed. The feeling of his hands on her, his lips against hers, it was something that could not be replicated in a dream, like flying for the first time and feeling the clouds beneath your fingers.

It was addictive, more so than the stupid apples that had caused Luke such pain, and she found herself wanting more. It was an effort to pull away from him, but eventually, she did. Beckendorf was only a few feet away and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It would make for an awkward journey home.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Luke murmured.

Finally, there was a smile tugging on her lips again. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

It took another hour or so before Luke was well enough to get moving. The dark trails gave all of them a bad feeling, and (y/n) wasn’t able to shake the almost hypnotic choral voices of the Hesperides until they were out of the State Park. Luke was shaky on his feet for a little while but his strength was returning.

And with it came anger.

Not anger at (y/n) or Beckendorf, no. He still smiled at them as usual, fingers entwined with (y/n)’s so tightly it was as though he was afraid she would slip away. Jokes still slipped past his lips despite the events of the evening.

But he was filled with fiery rage. It was hidden, but (y/n) could read him like a book. She had seen the inklings of it throughout the previous days of their quest, had seen it more clearly while she was cleaning the blood from his face - this anger, though, was pure. Harder to mask.

He had already been furious with his quest, a detail he had tried to keep hidden from her. He hated the idea of repeating history and the fact that this quest was simply made to satiate him, to prevent him from growing restless at camp and questioning the authority of the gods.

This was a breaking point.

It became clearer the more time passed. As the days and weeks went by, he would hold her hand like a lifeline and kiss her so softly it felt as though she was dreaming, but the anger never left. It ate away at him, dimming his smiles and reducing any respect he had left for the gods until there was nothing left but a shadow of what had once been there.

The scar never faded. It became a reminder of what he believed to be the gods’ failure. His failure.

He was still her Luke. The Luke she had known and loved since she was thirteen. She was just terrified of what he might become.

#givemea-dam-break #luke castellan x reader #pjo luke x reader #pjo luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #x reader #fanfiction #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fanfiction

[ineffabildaddy]

core of a clementine

i wrote a touch-starved crowley pov ficlet, here it is!!! explicit content incoming

-

Teach me to repair watches. Maybe I’ll forget the silken brush of your knuckles on my pebbled skin, stroking the place where my back meets my neck as you move to fasten my necklace.

Send me fruit-picking in the fields of Western Australia with the restless twenty-somethings. Maybe after six months, I'll struggle to recall the heel of your palm holding open a book, poised, imposing, steady.

Leave me behind a bar to pour endless pints. If I polish a thousand champagne flutes, then the press of your thumb into the core of a clementine may slip my mind entirely.

Bid me spin straw into gold on a loom. I might murder the memory of crying as I came, fucking myself on faltering fingers as if your digits graced my weeping cunt.

Put me to work with my hands and maybe I’ll learn to ignore yours.

Let me forget, too, how it feels to watch you plant a slice of cake on your wet tongue. How your lips cradle the stick of an ice lolly, how its juice drips down your proud chin, scarlet and vulgar.

Let me tilt my head back in the comfort of your armchair without picturing your mouth descending upon my throat. Let me crane my neck without craving your canines grazing my pulse points, as if you could pierce them and drain every drop of my blood.

My love would still be there, anyway. It lives in teeth and fingernails, it hangs heaviest where the blood isn't.

Do me a favour, stop scrunching up your nose. That way, I don't have to think about the tip of it catching on my clit if you were ever to taste me. Don't pinch the bridge of it, either, or I can't help but wonder whether you would tweak my nipples between your fingers and growl if I rode your face.

Turn away from me before you splay your hands out on the lower half of your torso. Then my brain won't silently have to plead, won't beseech you to press your belly into the concave of my back and fuck me mean, fuck me like it serves me right, serves me right for everything.

Don't spread your legs in the passenger seat of my car, love. Don't flex your thighs, don't shift the weight of your cock like it's sacred. Don't bring me to the point of talking myself down from swerving to the side of the road, don't force me to contemplate leaving the engine on while I climb over the gearstick and slick my parted lips with spit, waiting for you to feed me your length.

Don't tap your foot once you've grown impatient. Don't bring to mind how it might feel to sit on your knee, to roll my hips on the solid plate of it until I'm soaked and hard and lightheaded with want.

Don't speak in a whisper, darling. Don't mumble, don't murmur. Afterwards, I might dream of you telling me softly that I'm good, and then calling me a whore immediately afterwards.

I might wake up and think this means I love you. And we can't have that, can we, angel?

-

if you liked this fic, pls go give it some love on ao3!!! thoughts and reblogs here are also much appreciated<3

this work is a gift for @voluptatiscausa <3

i know a lot of the legends have read this already so i’ll tag a few who haven’t (no pressure!!!): @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @sabotage-on-mercury @greenthena @amagnificentobsession @crowleyholmes @alwaystuesday @and-his-hands-were-24-crows @iammyownproblematicfave @portraitofalonelydyke

#good omens #fanfic #ineffabildaddy

[foxcantswim]

Who Are You? || F!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Y/N is in love with Wanda... But Wanda is in love with Spider Noir. The thing is, Y/N and Spider Noir are the same person - But Wanda doesn't know that. Y/N has a secret identity to uphold.

F!Spider!Avenger!Reader x Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch (Everyone lives AU - Set after DS:MoM)

Chapter 2

Words: 3.1k Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Wanda needing a hug(she needs a hug in every fic tbh), Mention of blood, Very mild language

The day you met the Avengers, your life changed forever.

You were swinging across the city minding your own business. There had been no threats in the past few weeks so you enjoyed your freedom as you swung through the air. You hadn't expected anything to go wrong today... That was when your spider sense tingled, but you were too late to react as a blast of red flooded your vision - You were still working on controlling and understanding your powers so you didn’t really know how to react to your spider sense. You braced for impact as you smacked into the side of a building and tumbled down to the ground, you crashed down in between a bunch of trash cans in a dirty alleyway.

Groaning, you allowed your vision to readjust. You were about to stand but a familiar hammer was held down on your stomach, preventing you from standing.

"State your business here!" a loud voice spoke, making your head ring. You finally noticed who was hovering above you.

"I-I-" you started, unsure of how to react to an Avenger hovering above you.

"Jane!" another voice exclaimed as footsteps approached, "Let them up, they're just a kid."

"What have I told you about calling me that?" Jane sighed, "You were the one who made the order to take them out of the sky in the first place. You can fly and yet you get others to do your dirty business," she reluctantly lifted her hammer. That was when the other person leaned down to offer you a hand, you gladly took it - letting out a groan of pain once you were on your feet.

"Well, Mighty Thor... I didn't expect Wanda to hit her so hard," he replied before turning towards you, "Sorry about that. I'm-"

"The new Captain America: Sam Wilson," you breathed out, waving his hand away, "Yeah, I know who you guys are."

He let out a chuckle, "Of course you do."

You finally felt a surge of annoyance, "Why did you shoot me down?"

"It was a bit unnecessary..." someone else muttered as they appeared from around a nearby corner.

"You agreed to it!" Thor scoffed.

Your breath caught in your throat, your annoyance surprisingly disappeared. You finally knew who had actually took you out of the sky... The one and only Scarlet Witch. Wanda. You were glad that your mask was hiding your blush. You had had a stupid 'celebrity crush' on her for a while now... And now you were actually here in the flesh with her. You noticed her darkened fingers. You had briefly heard about what she had been through recently but nothing concrete.

"Sam insisted," she tried to reason. She then came over to you, "Sorry for hitting you a bit too hard. I-I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Water under the bridge," you nodded, "Already forgotten. Nothing my rapid healing can't handle."

Thor and Sam looked at you in confusion.

"O-Oh?" Wanda smiled, "I'm still sorry, but... Sam thought you were a threat. Well, assuming you aren't a threat?"

"Not a threat, promise," you reassured them.

"Good," Sam stepped forward, "We've already got our own Spiderman. I'm surprised we haven't seen you around before."

"I've had these powers for a long time now, I've only recently found the courage to learn how to use them. I only deal with petty thefts here and there, nothing too extreme," you explained, "I don't think I could handle anything like you guys do."

Thor finally smiled, understanding that you were indeed not a threat, "I'm sure that's not true. Maybe we could help you?"

Your heart was beating at an incredible rate. Were the Avengers really offering you a position?

Sam folded his arms, "It's up to youuu... What was your name again?"

Gulping, you hummed, "Erm... My name is..." you paused as your thought. You hadn't really thought about a name before. Your spider suit was pretty similar to Spider-Man's but it was pure black with purple accents, "Spider Noir."

"Spider Noir?" Thor questioned, "That's pretty similar to Black Widow."

"Well, that's my name," you stood by your choice.

"I meant your real name," Sam sighed.

Shaking your head, "No can do. Secret identities and all that." You had learnt that it would probably be a lot safer in the long run if you remained anonymous.

"I like it," Wanda assured, "Mysterious."

"Th-Thanks," your wide smile was hidden by your mask.

That was the day your life as an Avenger began. Sam had offered you to swing by the rebuilt Avengers compound whenever you were free. He was happy to get Spiderman, who you soon learned was Peter Parker, to help you. You were surprised that everyone in the Avengers knew Spiderman's identity, but that wasn't enough to convince you to reveal your own.

By a stroke of luck, you managed to nab yourself a job at the Avengers compound amongst some other applicants. You applied using your real name, not your alias. You wanted the Avengers to get to know the real you without revealing that you were Spider Noir. You definitely didn't want Wanda to get to know you, that was definitely not the reason why you applied- no not at all...

"So for your first order of business, Y/N," Tony said as he headed towards your desk, papers in his hands, "Sam and Steve want you to keep an eye on the security cameras we've installed around the city. Once there's a threat, all you have to do is press this button," he pointed a finger down at a button on your keyboard, "And one of us will come over and check out the footage ourselves. Steve will decide who goes."

"A bit of a big job for me for my first day, don't you think?" you replied, nervously.

He smirked, "Well if you don't think you can handle it..."

"No no no," you quickly said, "I can handle it, I'm just... Nervous, I guess?"

"Understandable," Tony nodded, "Wanda and Clint will be around if you need anything," he turned to leave but quickly raised a finger, "Oh! And don't be alarmed if you hear any explosions. I heard the Guardians would be back later on today and everyone knows how those guys can get."

You hadn't met the Guardians as Spider Noir yet, you were a little excited to say the least.

You were grateful that you had an office to yourself, the rebuilt Avengers compound was much larger than the previous build so they had more rooms to fill. The view out of your window was wonderful, you could see a big fountain and a huge area covered in nothing but sand - you assumed that it was some sort of training area.

The day was going smoothly, nothing appeared on any of the screens apart from a couple shop thefts which were quickly handled by local police.

"How's it going?" A voice caused you jump.

"Oh! Miss Maximoff!" you cleared your throat, hoping that she wouldn't recognise your voice, "It's erm. Going well! Y-Yeah! No crimes to report."

She stood in the open doorway, "Please. Call me Wanda. Tony told me to check on you and how you were handling things."

"Haven't needed to press that button, yet," you replied, motioning towards the keyboard, "Police have taken everything into their own hands today."

"That's good. It's nice to have a break now and then."

You tried your best to keep your eyes off of Wanda, your brain turned to mush around her. You had worked as an Avenger for a couple months as Spider Noir now, her and Peter Parker had quickly become close with you - both were happy to help you grow and master your powers. Peter accepted because he was excited to have another spider-related hero on the team. Wanda accepted because she felt awful for knocking you out of the sky a little too harshly. You weren't complaining.

The day was quickly coming to an end, still no threats had presented themselves. Well, apart from the threat of the Guardians as they had crashed their ship into a nearby lake. You were sort of glad that nothing actually bad had happened on your first day.

Or so you thought...

You flicked to another camera and your eyes widened. There was a huge fire engulfing a tall hotel building, fire-fighters were trying their best to extinguish the flames. It was obviously not going too well. You looked over at your other monitor and flicked it on before searching the for recent news.

And there it was. The fire had already been posted onto numerous news websites, showing that the fire was only getting bigger and there were still civilians trapped inside.

Now this was a threat. You quickly hit the button.

In no time, Clint headed into the room, "I saw the news," he said, leaning in to look at the security camera footage, "Steve is gonna send out-"

"I'm going to make a call to Noir. It could be a good chance for some training for her," Steve said, appearing in the doorway. He put a finger to his earpiece, "Wanda, Tony, you're up. I'll send you the details."

You gulped hard once Steve headed down the hall.

"Your shift's almost up, kid," Clint said, "Just need you to have one last quick look and sign these papers to say you've checked each camera one last time. Just hand the paper off to me or Bruce."

"Y-Yes, I will."

He smiled before exiting the room.

"Shit," you muttered, quickly turning back towards the screen. You flicked through the cameras, checking off each box on the papers as you looked at each one, "Come on, come on," you said, trying to finish up as fast as possible.

Once you were done, you ran over to the door and slammed it shut - you then looked out of the window to make sure nobody was around. You tapped a button on your metallic wristband which was concealed under your sleeve, your suit soon materialised over you. Pushing the window open, you hopped out - making sure to grab the papers before leaving. You swung off one of the outside walls before throwing the papers expertly through a window, they landed on Bruce's desk. You were thankful that he wasn't currently in the room.

Now it was time to head towards the threat.

An alert popped up in your mask, announcing that Steve was trying to contact you.

"Already on the way!" you announced upon answering him.

"You saw the news then, I take it," he replied, "Be careful out there, Noir. Wanda and Tony are almost there. I'll send in Thor and Jane if you guys need any more backup. Just get the civilians out and let the authorities take care of the fire."

"Got it, boss," you said before he hung up.

Landing on a building close to the fire was the best way to get a look at what you were dealing with. The sound of thrusters caught your attention.

"What are we lookin' at here?" Tony landed next to you. Wanda soon landed on your other side.

"Unknown amount of civilians still inside," you said with urgency.

"I'll take the higher floors," Wanda decided, “So much for that break...” she sighed before leaping off the building and flying towards the top of the hotel. You couldn't help but stare as she ascended.

Tony tapped a button on his wrist, "I'll see if I can put out some of the fire to help you guys. I'll scan each floor for lifeforms on the way. Good luck, kid," he nodded towards you before boosting off.

Taking a deep and shaky breath, you sprung into action. You prayed that you would be able to rely on your spider sense today.

A window near the middle of hotel was surprisingly not engulfed by flames, you took the chance and dived into one of the hotel rooms. You wasted no time in bursting into the hallway before running down the length of it, kicking down every door in the process to make sure you didn't miss anyone.

"Spiderman?!" a young girl tapped you on the back of your leg. You immediately saw the tears in her eyes.

You quickly picked the child up, sprinting back down the hall, "Call me: Noir," you said. A loud explosion caused you to flinch. Now was the time to get off of this floor. You tried your best not to let the scared child distract you, her scared sobs growing louder in the process.

"I've detected a couple lifeforms near you Wanda," you heard Tony say over comms.

"Already working on it," she replied.

You couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of Wanda’s voice in your ear. 

You regained your composure before heading towards the end of the hall and flung the window open, "Hold on tight, okay?" you said to the girl, not giving her time to respond as you immediately dove out of the window. She let out a shriek as you swung down towards the ground, on the opposite side of the street.

"Thank you! Thank you!" a woman exclaimed, tears streaming down her face as she ran over. Who you assumed to be her husband ran over with her. She grabbed the child and held her close, "W-We got separated in the crowd. I thought-" she said, her breathing ragged.

"It's okay," you said, "We're doing everything we can to get everyone-" you paused, eyes widening.

Spider sense.

A loud explosion occurred at the top of the hotel, causing you to turn and look up. A huge portion of the building was now crumbling down to the ground, "Get back!" you exclaimed, running over to a group of people. You held your hands out and quickly shot a web towards them, you pulled them away from the falling debris just in time.

"Thank you, Spiderman!" a man shouted.

"Call me: Noir!" you exclaimed before looking back up.

"Noir! Wanda's gone silent!" Tony said, "There's a couple lifeforms near the lower levels, I'll take care of them."

"Wanda..." you whispered before quickly flinging your arms upwards. You launched yourself up towards the huge opening in the side of the building. Dark smoke covered the floor, you were glad that your mask ventilated it well, "Wanda!" you called, stepping through flames - trying your best to ignore the heat.

Panic started to flood throughout you. Wanda was definitely on this floor somewhere.

"Wanda!" you called again. You managed to dodge a part of the ceiling falling down along the way.

That was when you noticed a blinding red light appear down the hall. Wanda let out a burst of magic to try and get your attention.

"N-Noir," she said, her voice clearly weak.

She had been completely crushed by the ceiling above her, blood was dripping from her head. You knew that Wanda was strong and one of the most powerful magic users to ever exist, but that didn't stop her from getting hurt.

"I'm here, I'm here!" you said, trying to not let the panic get to you. You headed over towards her, flinging off as much of the debris as you could with your webs, "We've gotta get out of here. Fast."

You put your hands under her arms to help her up, she immediately stumbled into you once she was on her feet.

Wanda started to breath heavily, her eyes started to flutter closed, "Noir..."

"I've got you," you whispered, putting an arm around her waist pulling her close, "Just hold on. Try not to breathe in too much of the smoke."

You made it back towards the opening in the wall as fast as you possibly could, you were putting your full trust in your spider sense at this point as your made your way through the burning building.

"Status on Wanda?" Tony asked.

"She's alive," you replied just before you jumped off the ledge, holding onto Wanda tightly.

"All civilians have been evacuated. I'll help the authorities put the rest of the fire out."

You swung back to the building you had first landed on upon arriving, Wanda immediately crumbled to her knees upon landing, "Hey, hey! Are you okay?" you knelt down in front of her, your hands coming up to her cheeks as your eyes inspected her for any wounds.

"J-Just a bit shaken up," she said before groaning in pain, "I hurt my leg pretty bad, but it'll heal. I have a banging headache too..." From the way Wanda was acting, you assumed that her head wound wasn't too extreme. You would still make sure she got it checked out.

Without thinking, you stroked her cheek with your thumb, "I'm so sorry I didn't get to you quicker."

"It's okay. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you. Thank you, Noir," she smiled.

The pair of you had been staring into at each other for a questionable amount of time, "D-Don't mention it, Wanda," you dropped your hands before standing up to look back towards the hotel. You cleared your throat, "Tony seems to be clearing up the fire pretty well." You were once again grateful that your mask was hiding your reddened cheeks.

"That's good," Wanda said, a little disappointment laced her words as she watched you move further away from her.

You looked over your shoulder towards Wanda, "You need help getting back to the compound?"

Shaking her head, "N-No, it's okay. I just need to take a moment."

"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

"It's fine," she nodded, "You've done more than enough, really," she continued to reassure you.

"If you're sure..."

"Head down there and make sure everyone's okay. They're the priority."

You're a priority to me...

"Okay," you muttered, "Just take it easy. Please." You jumped off the building and headed down towards the ground.

You failed to notice Wanda's soft smile as she watched you leave.

Thanks for reading!

I've just been so obsessed with Wanda/Elizabeth Olsen recently! I’m a mess....

Chapter 2

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #Avengers #Elizabeth Olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #spiderman #thor love and thunder #multiverse of madness

[instarsandcrime]

A Fresh Start

Obligatory "character neglects physical and emotional wellbeing so a loved one has to step in" fic! I hope you have your own Charlie somewhere to step in and stop you from overdoing things! Enjoy ❤️

---

Let it be said that Lucifer was nothing if not prepared for the worst case scenario. Met with an assassination attempt? He could handle an army with three wings tied behind his back. A sudden flood of requests from his citizens? Give him his favorite coffee mug and an all-nighter, and it'll all be sorted by tomorrow morning. Catch a glimpse of Alastor in the hallway? Remind himself why he’s here in the first place– to be there for Charlie.

Unfortunately, despite his better efforts, today his immune system said otherwise.

"Do it for Charlie. D-do it fohh...for...hit'schhh! ‘Tshh! Hit'tshhhiew! Het'CHIEW! HISHHH’HIEW! Ohhh..." Lucifer groaned, tossing another one of his many handkerchiefs into the laundry bin beside him. He massaged the bridge of his nose, glancing wearily at the clock. Three in the morning. He had to get up in four hours. Still in a drooping nightrobe, he stared back down at the snow white paper– save for a few scribbles of ink. 

“Hit'schh! 'Tshh! 'TCHH! Oh you've gotta be f-fucking kihhh-- k-kidding me– Hit'SHIEW! Just let me finish thihhhs and g-guhhh-go to behhh-heh-het’SCHHH'hiew!"

Sniffling back congestion, he suppressed another miserable noise as he collapsed back in his seat. Apparently the fit had spattered ink across the canvas like blood on a crime scene.

Charming. 

He reached for another handkerchief to force a gurgling blow, scarlet eyes trailing to the cellphone beside him. A ridiculous thought prodded at his foggy mind, and Lucifer shook his head to clear it. No. No, that's silly. He's been absent from the hotel for so long, he couldn't stop now! His little girl was counting on him! Maybe he'll just call to wish her luck. Ignoring the tight knot in his stomach, Lucifer snatched up the phone with shaky claws. It rang once. Twice. Then--

"Dad?" A sleepy voice yawned from the other end.

ASK FOR HELP.

The sudden possibility painted his mind, and he scrambled to end the call. A silence fell over the room. Lucifer’s lungs burned from hyperventilating. His heart drummed in his ears. Why did he do that. Why did he do that? The knot tugged itself tighter. 

Okay. It's fine. This is fine. Maybe she’ll think that he pressed a button in his sleep–

"Hi Dad! It’s Charlie. Do you mind if I step in for a sec?"

--and a knock on the door interrupted his frantic thoughts, shattering any possible means of escape. 

"Ch-Charlie?” Lucifer’s panic fell to guilt, “Oh Sweetie, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Why don’t you go back to bed?" He hurriedly crossed the room with aching legs, finally braving the mirror to fix his awful appearance. 

"Oh! I-it’s fine, really! It's just-- you sounded like you were crying. So I wanted to come in and make sure everything was okay. …Is everything okay?" 

"Don’t you worry your pretty little head! Time ran away from me, that’s all." With the wave of his hand gold mist sputtered and spurted weakly until all his blemishes were gone. A bright flush faded from his nose and cheeks. A red and gold robe was no longer slumped and wrinkled. Blonde hair bounced back into place. Bruise-colored eyebags shrunk to small shadows. He cringed at the way his fingers tingled, but stuffed the feeling down with a stubborn, slowly swarming itch. 

Her father opened the door slowly, hinges squeaking softly along the way. His daughter stood there in her silky pajama set, rubbing at cherub cheeks to chase off the cobwebs of sleep. "I just need a few more minutes and then I’ll–" 

Lucifer paused as his uninvited guest strolled into the room still bleary-eyed, messy hair swaying behind her. A panic welling in his gut as a strong tickle followed suit. He quickly pressed the lower half of his face to the hem of his bathrobe, desperate to stifle as silently as possible.

"'Nnt! 'Nxt! 'Hnxt! 'Htch! 'Tchhht! 'Tchhh! H'NXT!"

“I know, I know! But it’s pretty late, and it sounds like you’re still chipping away at the first draft. Maybe there’s something I can do?"

The second she turned around Lucifer snapped ramrod straight, cheshire grin plastered to his face. "Really? You don't hahh-have to."

“Are you absolutely, one-hundred-and-ten percent sure you’re okay?” Charlie raised a curious brow.

"I-- yes! I’m fine! Actually, I called because I neehh- snff! needed your help writing it." He winced, mentally slapping himself. 

Suddenly, the world seemed to stop just for Charlie Morningstar. Her eyes sparkled, suspicious behavior completely forgotten. 

"Wh-what?" Lucifer stammered, rubbing a finger under his nose to keep it from twitching like a rabbit.

"Nothing! Nothing, I just– nevermind!" His daughter sat on the edge of his chair, already waiting with bated breath. "Why don't you read it out loud? I want the full presentation!"

Oh. Oh, no.

"Of course!" Lucifer took the two-sentence script in his hands. The same one that looked like a cheap Jackson Pollock painting. The same one that he couldn't even read a sentence through without spiraling into a fit. Don't freak out. Don't frehhh--

"Hhh..." He inhaled through his nose, trying to ignore the tickle that began to creep down its bridge. "Good morning, denizens of Hell. It's w-with…hih-hhhhit'schhhiew!" He quickly covered his mouth, "Goodness! Excuse me. Ahem!"

Charlie's excitement wavered into something unreadable, cocking her head. "Um. Are you–"

"Fine! I’m fihh– hhheh! Hep'SHHHIEW!" Oh, for fuck’s sake! "It's wihhh…with great pleasure thahhht…J-Jehhh-JesusMaryJoseph– HIT’SCHH! ’TSHH! T’CHHHIEW! HHHET’SHhhoo…"

Thin brows furrowed. "Dad."

"Dust!" Lucifer blurted, chuckling despite the hand he held to his pounding head. "Haven't dusted in a whi-while– ET'SHH! HET'SSHHH! Nnnhh…oh goodness– snff! I’m so sorry, Charlie. What was I saying…?"

Gentle hands took his shoulders, and through his hazy fog he found himself steadied, sitting on a plush mattress. "Easy. It’s okay. You’re okay."

Breathless and dizzy, he felt a soft tissue press into his palm. Quickly turning to blow his nose– cringing when it played like a mucky trumpet solo– and found himself looking back at the mirror.

"...Charlie?" Lucifer rasped, tossing his now-soaked wad in the wastebin. Eyes still glued to his reflection.

"Mhm?"

"How long were my illusions down for?"

"Oh! Ummm. I think halfway through the first sentence."

"Of course it was."

"Yyyep! ‘Cause you’re sick."

"...A little." Lucifer immediately perked up again, "B-but I can still give the speech!"

Charlie's expression dropped. "Listen. I know you mean well, really I do, but you can't even go two minutes without sneezing your poor head off."

"Oh, please." A growing dread bloomed inside him, patting his pockets for more handkerchiefs– paling when he came up empty.

The princess crossed her arms expectantly.

"...Charlie."

"No, no. I’m proving my point. I'm getting my point proven in three. Two."

"C-come on, I said I’m fi…hhhh…f-ffide…hit'schiew! 'Tshhhiew!"

"See? Not even a minute–"

"Het'CHIEW! ‘CHIEW! ESHH! ESHHH! ET'CHHH! HIT'SHH!" Charlie squeaked as she dodged her patient, pitching helplessly into his hands. Blushing madly, he slapped his palm against a dripping nose. "Ugh-- snff! Thadt was disgusti’g-- ET'CHH! Shit!"

The other winced, reaching for the a tissue. Then stopped to think better of it, setting the box on his lap. "I guess I just don’t understand." 

"Hm?"

"It's, um. It's not that I don't want your help." Charlie moved to sit beside the sickly demon, patiently waiting while he cleaned himself up. "You're just a little more dedicated than I expected. It's nice that you offered to lead the opening ceremony, but. Why didn't you ask me to do it instead if you weren't feeling well?"

Lucifer stared blankly for a moment.

"...Did you...not know that was an option?"

"I-I don't know, Char. It’s been me and the ol’ workshop for quite a while! I've never really lived with anyone else since..." Lucifer’s raspy voice trailed off into silence, claws drumming nervously on his thighs.

Two pairs of scarlet eyes trailed to a small picture propped on the dresser. A baby Charlie laughing happily, lifted in the air by Lucifer, kissed on the forehead by...well. The fallen angel cleared his throat, clasping his the hem of his sleeves to keep them from shaking. Nerves calmed when a warmth suddenly embraced him.

"I miss her too." Charlie whispered in his ear, adding a doting squeeze for good measure.

"It’s okay, Char-Char. I’m okay."

"But you always say that! You always say you’re fine, but you’re not. It's– it’s not fair! It’s not fair that I had so many people behind me this entire time, and you were stuck in a room for years!"

Pulling back, her father squeezed her shoulders with a gentle smile. "But I'm here with you now. That's all that matters."

"Yeah." Charlie started to brighten, a realization lighting a new fire in her eyes. "Yeah, you are!"

"I…am." Lucifer repeated with an uncomfortable delicacy.

The Princess of Hell cleared her throat. She sat pencil straight, smoothing her pants and straightening the lapels on her nightshirt.

"Where-- snff! Wh-where is this going?"

"Lucifer Morningstar." Charlie began. She stood tall to grab the other’s hand, tugging him upwards with a startled yelp. "How would you like to join a very special hotel?"

"I already live here?" The demon king faltered, grabbing onto the headboard before he could fall.

"You are! But being a visitor and being a resident are two entirely different things! Everyone at my Hazbin Hotel has something they need to work on! Whether they want to cross those Pearly Gates or not, it's always a good idea to improve the soul!"

"No need to sell me the pihh-pitch." Lucifer retorted, weaving another handkerchief from thin air. Or at least tried to, blinking back shock when he tried a few more times to no avail.

"Oh, but I absolutely have to!" Charlie lifted a finger, grabbing a tissue from the bed. "You make a good dad, sure. But you'd also make a good resident! You just need a push in the right direction since you have a lot to work on!"

"Charlie!” Lucifer’s voice cracked, heavy with offense, “What're you tuhh-talking about? I don’t need...n-need to…work on anythih-hih-hitshhhew! Ishhh'hoo! Het'schiew! Hih'SCHHH! 'ISHHHIEW!"

Charlie hummed, waving the tissue in his face, "Exhibit A! Too prideful to ask for help."

"Hey!" Lucifer protested, still taking the fabric to blow his stopped-up sinuses for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night. Distracted, she poked his side, earning a squeak.

"Exhibit B! Because you’ve been working so hard, you haven't taken care of yourself! It’s so obvious that you haven’t slept or eaten in days A resident is required to fuel those bones and keep their mind sharp!"

"I’m just making sure everything’s still running before opening-- ack!" Lucifer stumbled backwards as his daughter loomed over him. His spine thumped against the wall, realizing he was literally and figuratively backed into a corner.

"I knew it!” Charlie cried, “Exhibit C! If you’re not asking to share responsibility and refuse to take care of yourself, you’ll overexert yourself. Not limited to your powers! You clearly need to learn how to set them."

"It was-- snff! it was just a gazebo!"

"That had a huge garden around it! You just finished building the hotel too." Charlie inhaled through her nose, frustration softening with a patient exhale. She took his hands in her own, tracing circles on their backs. "I know it’s hard. The hotel is so different from the life you used to live, and you want to make up for the lost time you have now. So everything has to be perfect. But it’s okay if you stumble a little. It’s okay if you relapse. When you can’t show it, let me take my turn. I’ll be the one this time to remind you that there's a family here. And that family loves you."

Lucifer paused. He let out a little huff of a laugh. Then a hiccup. His eyes grew misty, and he quickly moved to wipe them with his wrist. "Heheh! I s-suppose I can't blame this on dust again, huh?"

"Nahhh. I think Niffty would freak if she heard you slander her hard work, anyway." Charlie bent down to kiss a feverish forehead, "Now get your butt to bed, mister."

Ever grateful, Lucifer rested his head on her shoulder, leaning on the support as they walked. "Whatever you say, kiddo."

#snz #snz fic #ha//zb//in//ho//tel// #lu/ci/fer #char/lie

[techtainia-makes-things]

I love your Mtmte Megatron x reader stories, and I re-read them a bunch of times because they are so good! And I yearn for more soft Megs. You write him so well.

If you're up for a little request- how about their first kiss? Like, how does it happen? Who started it? Do they talk about their feelings after that or pretend it never happened?

You have no idea how much I love writing some soft Megatron. Something about poets and pining just does it for me (so much so that MTMTE Megatron x reader fic was what finally convinced me to read MTMTE). Feel free to ask for a sequel, because I already have ideas.

I personally don’t think that Megatron would initiate anything unless he thought it was his last chance, like with my DOTL fic. That being said…

—

Another long day, and another even longer meeting. You checked your watch and sighed: it had only been an hour, and Ultra Magnus clearly wasn’t planing on stopping any time soon. You don’t even notice when you had pressed your face into the palm of your hand, squishing your cheek in the way that some of the less respectful mechs would coo over you for. 

You exhale, amused at the thought as a brief memory moves your thoughts away from the meeting. You remembered the look on Megatron’s face the first time he had seen it happen, the exact way his optics narrowed, and a more prominent frown that usual set across his face. The way he shot the bots a sharp comment: “Shouldn’t you all be working instead of tempting an intergalactic incident?” 

You just couldn’t help but smile into your hand, your pointer finger resting over your lip. He picked you up after that, and let you sit on his shoulder for the rest of the day. You had watched the way that his optics hilighted the bridge of his nose and the edges of his helmet, the slight quirk of his lip whenever you shifted to lean into him just a little bit more.

“It’s warm,” you lie to yourself, “He just has nice warm neck cabling.” You suppress a chuckle and shoot him a look.

He was looking back at you with the same softness that he used when he thought you wouldn’t notice. You always did. It was a nice feeling, it was nice to be appreciated. There definitely wasn’t any feelings attached. Definitely. Absolutely no chance that you enjoy how he guards your honor. No way. 

You glance at him again. He’s still looking at you with a look as soft as scarlet rose petals. He writes something down, probably notes. You never know though, he could be composing a new poem about his light in the dark, his little rose…

Fu-

“And that concludes todays meeting.”

You jump in your seat. Your eyes snap to Ultra Magnus. You straighten your back and take a moment to clear your throat. “Yes, of course Sir.” You glance around his face, taking a moment before you manage to meet his eyes. 

He raises a brow ridge at you, but says nothing. Maybe he would have if he had the time, but Megatron had already offered you his hand to step on. You smiled at him in thanks. The red reflected on his cheeks brightened. Your face was warm.

Megatron left the room with steps that echoed through the hall. He held you close to his chest, against his Autobot insignia. If you really wanted to, you could reach up and cup his cheeks in your hands, taking in the way that the cold metal would absorb your body heat.

His optics widened. His stride stalled. It was just the two of you, staring into each other’s eyes, lost in a moment.

You don’t notice when you press your lips to his, perfectly satisfied to ignore the size difference. You let your eyes flutter closed as you melt into his touch.

He’s stiff, unable to move until after you pull away with your hands still on your cheeks. You shrink back.

He shrinks down so that he had to hold you atop of his forearm as the other servo guided you back to his lips. He matched your passion, maybe even doubled it with a touch of desperation as he held you close. His nose pressed into your cheek, his optics dimming before going offline all together.

The second kiss lasted a bit longer, and in those extra seconds you could taste every ounce of all of the sweet words he had ever written for you, only to hide them away in the depths of his collection of personal datapads.

You could feel his hand tremble against your scalp as he let you lean back and away from him. His optics were frantic, but held no regret. They never held any regret when it came to you and him.

He glanced to the side, and took a moment to clear his throat. “Forget-“

“No,” you said with a firmness that Megatron decided was quite becoming of you. “Let’s talk about this over drinks, shall we? My treat.” You smile at him with eyes as soft as pink rose petals scattered across the ground.

You swear you can see as his walls as they came crumbling down reflected in his red optics. Red optics that were so easy on the eyes. Red optics that you had come to adore. 

“Let’s.”

#mtmte megatron x reader #mtmte megatron #megatron x reader #mtmte #Tech writes #Soft Megatron hours are my favorite hours #I really should be working on things that actually have due dates. #Too bad. I need a break via. A little soft creative time

[dapper-zappa]

Spider Outta The Bag | Miguel O'Hara

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader

Summary: Miguel is fed up with LYLA pestering him about his crush on you… only for him to accidentally confess the feelings in front of you.

Word count: ~1,3K

Warnings: Fluff, banter, possibly OOC Miguel?, TSSM series ending spoilers, LYLA being a sassy ahh mf, accidental confession, oblivious Y/N,

A/N: First Miguel fic woop woop, and if there's any inaccurate Spanish, please tell me! Also, I think it'd be nice to use the Peter from The Spectacular Spider-Man, who appeared on ATSV briefly as Y/N's mission partner in this fic instead of someone like Miles, Hobie, Jess Drew, or Ben. TSSM!Peter's world is canonically Earth-26496 in the Marvel wiki so that's why I wrote it that way.

Also, based after this prompt !

For the upteenth time, LYLA sighed at Miguel, who only did nothing but sit down and think. “Wow, Miguel, I swear you’re way more shy than a high schooler crushing on someone.” the AI groaned, shifting her form so she’s now sitting on top of her boss’s shoulder as she filed her nails. “Since she’s gonna go for a mission later thanks to an anomaly in Earth-26496 with the Peter from that world, why can’t you just tell her when you call her here for the mission briefing? That’ll save you way more time instead of wasting your time waiting for her to confess instead!”

His growing feelings towards you (and how he constantly tried to deny it) were often challenged if someone else teased him about it. While it’s usually 

his AI assistant that pestered him about his silly schoolboy crush, Dr. O’Hara also had got a fair amount of spider people who teased him to try to make him ask you out. From Jess, the Peter with a 5 o'clock shadow who almost always had baby Mayday on his side, Hobie, while not close with him, tends to make little jabs on how Miguel “was always buzzin’ to see Y/N”, even the melodramatic hunk Ben Reilly joined in at times. 

Yet at the same time, deep down he always yearned for you to return his feelings. 

“For the last time, LYLA. I’m not in love with Y/N L/N.” Miguel grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

LYLA’s projection shifted again so she’s now in front of his face, arms crossed as she popped a bubble of bubblegum as pink as her heart shaped shades.

“My goodness, you’re doing it again.” 

“What thing? I didn’t say anything bad before.” Miguel gestured with his hands to try to prove LYLA’s only joking or making some sort of false accusations to toy with him. 

“That thing! Where you’re so in love with someone yet pretend you’re not in love with them!” The AI bursted into laughter at how bad he is at pretending he’s not being lovestruck. “Every day you whine about how you don’t love Y/N yet whenever someone says it in front of your handsome face, you often look at her like a lost puppy whenever she’s in the room or whenever you two go on missions together. I’d say you’re one of the funniest in terms of the spider people being in love.” she chortled. 

Miguel shot LYLA a glare, shutting her mouth up once she was faced with a pair of angry scarlet orbs. The AI tried to open her mouth again but she was cut off by him.

“Then what am I supposed to say? Hey Y/N, I’m so deeply in love with you that you’re all I think about all the time-”

“-what?”

Before he knew it, he was interrupted by two familiar voices exclaiming at the same time. His jaw dropped agape, the scarlet hues in his now widened eyes dimmed down at the sheer shock that crept through him when one of the people who just walked into his office was Y/N L/N out of everyone else. 

“…LYLA?” 

“Yes?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me Y/N is coming?” he scolded, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.

“I was trying to tell you that but you cut me off.”

On the other hand, the embarrassment also hit you, especially because you still couldn’t believe what you and the Peter from Earth-26496 - or as you’d nickname him, Spectacular Peter had just witnessed. Peter and you settled on the nickname when you praised his performance, calling him “spectacular” in a mission and you used that nickname to distinguish him from the many other Peters in the Spider Society. 

Miguel O’Hara just accidentally confessed he’s in love with you.

“Estupendo.” With his back now facing you and Peter, Miguel huffed in frustration and embarrassment. “Just make sure to tell no one about this.” 

(Great.)

“Miguel, I know I’m supposed to get the details about the mission in Earth-26496 but why didn’t you tell me from the start?” you questioned. “That way at least you wouldn’t have to hide your feelings around me, even if I ashamedly didn’t know about your little crush on me before I heard you saying it in front of me and Peter.” 

Peter, who noticeably appeared more cartoonish than most of his variants who were part of the Spider Society, could only give your shoulder a few comforting pats to attempt to relieve you from the amount of embarrassment by your own boss yet at the same time not cause any more trouble.

“At least it’s not the time when Gwen and I broke up with our partners Harry and Liz just so we can get together with each other… only for me to find out that my best friend’s dad is the Green Goblin soon after.” Peter lamented in remembrance of that very awkward moment in his love life.

Conflict grew even more - perhaps way more than it was within Miguel’s heart before he accidentally revealed his crush in front of you, someone who had no clue he liked you. His heart pounded under his ribs, waiting so hard for it to burst from how uneasy this moment was making him. His combed hair became messier the more he ran his fingers through his hair, as he tends to do it whenever he’s feeling stressed or anxious. 

This had gotta be the time where he should be all serious and make sure you and Peter got the needed information… right? After he calmed down, Miguel instead turned around to face you and your partner for today’s mission, approached you, and gently placed his large hand on your shoulder.

He briefly glanced at Peter (who’s getting really awkward from finding out his boss has a crush on his partner for today’s mission) before fixating his chestnut brown eyes on you. 

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you. I wasn't careful about my words before and I won’t do it again in front of you.” he suddenly retracted his hand after remembering that he’s supposed to give you the details of the anomaly in Earth-26496. 

LYLA projected 2 screens in front of you and Peter as Miguel began his briefing. The first screen displayed the details and a virtual model of a variant of the infamous Scorpion, but this particular version appeared to be a tall and muscular woman donning the Scorpion armor, complete to the venom infused in her tail’s stinger. On the other hand, the second screen displayed the Scorpion variant rampaging in that world’s city center. Police cars surrounded all over her, but to no avail as she started attacking the police officers and citizens began scurrying away from the now dangerous area. 

“Oh, I forgot. A Scorpion variant is rampaging in Earth-26496 and all you two have to do is to take down this anomaly, capture her, then bring her to the HQ so that the Go-Home Machine can send her back to her native dimension.”

“By the way, she looks to be quite tough because she’s armed with a venom stinger in her tail, so you both have to be careful or else you’ll suffer from hallucinations and fatigue induced by her venom.” LYLA added.

“I wish you two luck with today’s mission.” Miguel said firmly, ending the briefing for today’s mission. 

“We will, Miguel.” Peter replied. 

He immediately opened a portal to his native world for you two to go in and immediately stepped inside, but right when you were about to step inside the portal, Miguel stopped you.

“So… would you like to go to dinner tonight with me? Maybe I can take you to my favorite place in Nueva York once you and Peter are done handling the anomaly. For our first date.” you turned around at his offer. 

“I’d love to, but I have to go now. I’ll see you again!” 

“You too.” he smiled. 

With a last wave towards him, you went in the portal and it closed itself right after. Now what’s left to do is for you to help Peter capture the Scorpion variant anomaly and bring her back to the HQ, just as you were told.

#atsv fic #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #smokey writes #atsv #spider man atsv #spider man across the spider verse #miguel x you #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 x you

[drgrlfriend]

Chrome Plated Heart

It's here! My first-bidder auction winners in the Marvel Trumps Hate 2022 auction graciously allowed me to put their (35k and counting) fic on hold so I could write my second-bidder auction, and here it is -- a Marvel Pacific Rim AU featuring Winterhawk! I've posted the prologue and chapter 1 together, and will be updating one chapter per week until I post the last chapter and epilogue together. Enjoy!

Chrome Plated Heart by dr_girlfriend

Excerpt:

“Hey.”  Steve nudges Bucky’s shoulder and tilts his head toward the door of the canteen.  “New blood.”

Riley and Sam turn all the way around to look, not in the least bit subtle as the newcomers follow Coulson in and grab trays.

They are an odd match to be drift compatible — the man as tall and broad-shouldered as the woman is small and slender.  Similar in age, so probably siblings or romantic partners.  Or just new recruits from the Pan Pacific Defense Corps, maybe.  There’s not a jaeger in the assembly line anywhere near to done, but having a backup team on hand is never a bad idea with how high the casualty count has been lately.  Fewer minutes on the war clock after every event, and he heard Pietro Maximoff took a hard hit in Scarlet Sentry the other day — enough to put him out of commission for at least a few weeks.

“Interesting,” Steve says.  “They could almost pass for —” He stops, the forkful of macaroni arrested halfway to his mouth.  “Holy geez,” he says reverently.  “That’s —”

“Lucky Striker,” Bucky finishes.  “Sonuvabitch!”

Romanoff and Barton.  They’re legends, the very first team to establish a neural handshake once Stark nearly blew out his heart trying to pilot a jaeger alone and realized it only works with a shared neural and physical load.

They have more kills than any other team out there.  Hong Kong, Vladivostok, Lima — Lucky Striker has held the line at almost every ‘dome on the rim.  Steve and Bucky have pored over the footage of every single one of their kills, marveling at the way their jaeger moves.  Fluid, seamless, graceful.  And most of all, of course, deadly.

“Think they’re just visiting or they’re here to fight?” Steve asks.

“Either way, we’ll probably at least get to see them in the kwoon,” Riley drawls.  “Shee-it, won’t that be sweet?  Whaddaya think they’ll use?  Staffs?  Nunchaku?  Or just hand-to-hand?”

“Whatever it is, it’s gonna be fuckin’ beautiful,” Bucky says.  

He can’t take his eyes off of Barton.  In the recruitment posters and news clips he’s handsome, sure — tall and blond with an easy smile.  In person though, he’s not nearly as polished.  His hair is all mussed up like he just tumbled out of bed, his faded t-shirt has a hole near the collar, and he’s got about four days’ worth of stubble shadowing his jaw.  There are bright purple hearing aids looped behind each ear, a Wonder Woman bandaid across the bridge of his nose, and a scrape along his cheekbone.  Bucky thinks this scuffed up and scruffy version of Barton is about a million times more appealing than the airbrushed PanPac posterboy.

As Bucky watches, Barton reaches out to snag a piece of lemon meringue pie.  He puts his thumb right into it as he tries to fit it onto his already-full tray.

“Aw, pie, no,” Bucky hears him say mournfully over the background hum of conversation.  He balances the overfull tray on one forearm, bicep threatening to split the seams of that threadbare t-shirt, and sticks his thumb in his mouth, sucking off the smudge of lemon and meringue.

Bucky feels his heart stutter as he watches that thumb going into Barton’s lush mouth and coming back out, leaving both it and Barton’s lips pink and wet and shiny.  “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathes.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #clint barton #hawkeye #marvel #mcu #winterhawk #marvel comics #my fic #fanfiction #marvel trumps hate 2022 #mth2022 #chrome plated heart #deaf!clint barton #pacific rim au

[gumnut-logic]

Sweetapple Slice 9

Alexander Sweetapple series

This isn't much because I'm tired and it's nearly midnight after a very long day, so don't expect much.

Inspired by the slightly evil @womble1 How dare they dangle a concept in front of me like that. Things like this happen - though honestly, I don't think it is as good as it could have been if I had half a brain, but eh, it be fic.

Sometime in the future, I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Alex walked across the room and opened the huge window, letting in the tropical breeze.

The scents of Tracy Island were heady and he found himself breathing in deep. It helped calm his heart.

A bird squawked somewhere nearby and the ocean hissed beyond the dense pōhutukawa trees.

“Thank you, love.”

Alex turned back to Virgil, sitting up in bed, still pale, but so much better than he had been.

His partner must have seen something in Alex’s expression, because he gestured with one hand for Alex to return to him.

Alex didn’t hesitate, crawling across the bed to carefully slide in beside him, avoiding the healing injury in Virgil’s left thigh. He tried to ignore the yellowing bruises and healing abrasions scattered across Virgil’s bare chest, still hesitant to touch, afraid he might hurt him.

Virgil being Virgil, grabbed him with his right arm and drew him in close, kissing his hair. “You’re not going to hurt me. Stop worrying.”

Alex grunted, not willing to admit how much Virgil’s sudden injury and following illness had scared him.

One day they were planning a relaxing dinner in Sydney, of all places. Planning to watch the sun go down over the Harbour Bridge. Then half way through the afternoon, John had called, his voice parched.

Thunderbird One hit Māhia at speed and Alex had been airborne, halfway to London before he could knock two neurons together.

He’d never been to London before.

He still hadn’t really. He’d only been to that hospital, that room, with his seriously ill lover surrounded by family, not knowing if he would ever see those beautiful chocolate eyes ever again.

Scott was a man possessed.

Virgil had mentioned his big brother’s passion for his family. Through Alex’s own terror, he saw the man go from the calm professional to the desperate big brother.

Their father did his best to see to the eldest, but whatever he tried never seemed to be enough.

As for Alex…the days were filled with fear.

“I’m getting better, love. Please stop thinking about it.” Virgil drew Alex’s head down to his shoulder, stroking his hair gently.

Alex leant up and kissed his jawline.

He, too, was shirtless and Virgil’s warmth, both physical and spiritual, seeped in through Alex’s skin.

“What do you want to do today?” They had recently finished breakfast. Alex was ever so happy to see Virgil’s appetite return. He truly was getting better.

“I was thinking of doing a little knitting. Two’s stocks are getting low.” Virgil shifted a little where he sat.

Alex frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Another shift. “Could you do me a favour?”

Alex sat up. “Of course.”

“There’s a bag, green, in that cupboard, second shelf.”

Sliding off the bed once again, Alex did as Virgil asked and found the bag. It was obviously a knitting bag. Metal needles clicked together as he picked it up and several balls of yarn peeked up through its drawstring top. Alex brought it back to the bed. “You never mentioned you knit.”

A half-smile. “It’s a thing.” Out came scarlet needles and a bright gold yarn. “Bit of a tradition.”

As he was speaking, Virgil started expertly casting on stitches.

Alex crawled back onto the bed, ever fascinated by what his love was capable of. “You are so much.”

Virgil stopped mid-motion, frowning just a little. “In what way?”

“Every time I think I know all your interests, you pop up with another one, and to top it all off, you’re proficient in all of them.”

A snort. “You can talk.”

“Yes, I’m an engineer, but that is all I am, Virgil. You? You are an engineer, a bloody brilliant one, mind you. A musician, an artist, a rescue operative and medic. You are so talented and skilled in so many professions…how are you possible?”

An arched eyebrow was pointed in his direction. “You are most certainly much more than just an engineer, Alex.” He reached up and stroked Alex’s arm. “So much more.”

Alex gave him the side eye, ever sceptical. “So what are you making?”

Virgil stared at him a moment before giving in and looking down at the mess of gold yarn in his lap. “Fish for a fish.”

“You’re making goldfish for Gordon? Why?”

“Because this time I was the one who was injured.”

“What?”

Virgil sighed. “We have a thing.”

Alex waited.

And waited. “A thing?”

“Gordon was seriously injured once. He needed some…motivation. So I taught him to knit.”

Blink.

Virgil obviously took that as a question. “He told me it was my turn to make fish.”

This was obviously another one of those Tracy-things Alex was never quite going to understand. The five brothers were a very closely knit bunch, pun intended, and sometimes they did things that defied explanation.

And this was likely one of them.

Alex sighed and curled up beside Virgil, prepared to sit beside him no matter what the man wanted to do. The last week had been hell and he thought that he had lost the one he loved. If that man now wanted to knit random gold fish for his quirky brother, he could knit as much as he liked.

Alex was just happy to have him safe.

As Virgil began to hum, relaxing into what he was doing, Alex let himself smile.

It truly was a beautiful sound.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic #virgil tracy/alexander sweetapple #romance #virgil whump

[honeybleed]

Renji x reader fluff pls !

content & warnings:

canon-verse but renji and rukia never got together in this fic, female reader, she/her pronouns, reader is a soul reaper, crack since it’s based off all the bleach omakes

author’s note:

tell me whose a bleach character u defend like crazy if u like this one shot lawl mine is tosen renji & rukia ☝🏽

tag for @westcinny since that’s her new flavor of the month

word count: 1k

Girl's night outs with the other female shinigami wasn't anything spectacular however it was quite rare so there was a feeling of excitement in the air.

You approached the seated lieutenants, but as you sat you could see they were already a bit tipsy what with their flushed cheeks and giggling.

"Come sit!" Rangiku hurriedly said as she called out your name.

"I'm already sat dummy, what's up with you?" You snickered, amused.

"We were just talking about the Eleventh Division. I hear they don't...even shower!" Isane cackled, thumping the bar and causing the cups to shake.

"The smell must be crazy." Rangiku cackled, tears forming.

You snorted.

Well, it wasn't exactly a farfetched theory that the Eleventh Division didn't prioritize cleanliness. However, you knew for a fact, Fifth Seat Ayasegawa of all people didn't fit with that rumor.

Speak of the devil, the familiar orange turtleneck and plush feathers came into your eyesight as he angrily stomped off.

"Yumichika!" Ikakku cried out, following after him.

"We do shower, I'll have you know!" Ikakku barked, jabbing his finger at the three of you.

"...Together?" Rangiku questioned, cocking a brow in an attempt to rile him up even more.

Ikkaku's eyes widened and his cheeks burned scarlet.

"That's none of your business!" He stuttered, then chased after Yumichika.

"Well, it's nice to see some love birds in the Seireitei, huh?" You remarked after he'd left.

"Slim pickings I suppose." Rangiku sighed, as she stretched her arms.

"That is so not true." You responded. "There's so much eye candy here, Rangiku! You don't see it?"

"Yeah, cos you're a newbie. Few decades and you get bored." She said, glancing at the entrance where other shinigami passed by on patrol.

"What about you, Isane? Anybody catch your eye?"

"Not really. People show their true colors when they're admitted to the infirmary. And it is not a pretty sight." She sighed. "What about you, Y/N?"

"Hm...now you put me on the spot I'm not sure."

A memory popped into your head.

"...Abarai." You finally answered, lips curving into a smile.

Your response was met with clamoring and gasps.

"Hey! What's wrong with him?" You questioned, taken aback by their reaction.

"He's so.."

"Well, let's just say you had an unconventional choice." Nanao stated as she pushed the bridge of her glasses up her nose.

"Yeah right. You guys are just so picky. No pleasing you." You folded your arms in defiance, defending your choice. "Those luscious red locks, those eyebrows. One day I passed by the Sixth Division's barracks and he was shirtless...sweat trickling down his abs and those tats..."

"Easy there, Juliet." Rangiku giggled. "Don't leave the chair soaking wet."

"Rangiku!" You hissed at her crudeness.

Soon enough, you and the ladies took your leave. The booth was jam-packed with the male lieutenants who had been keeping as quiet as church mice to eavesdrop.

Shuhei grasping at his roots with his unrequited crush on Rangiku, Renji blushing so hard his cheeks matched his hair at your statement, Tetsuzaemon thumping the table and Izuru side-eyeing them all.

"God damn it!" Tetsuzaemon groaned. "Why do all the ladies think so lowly of us? Hell, I wasn't even an option!"

"You lucky thing, Abarai." Shuhei sniffled. "You better go get the girl."

Renji's face scrunched up in embarrassment.

"I wouldn't even know where to start!" He cried out.

"I'm sure it's less complicated than you're making it out to be." Izuru snarked.

"Yeah! She already thinks you're a stud, just make a move on her. Simple!" Tetsuzaemon cried out.

-

"Lieutenant Abarai, can I help you?" You asked, a little confused as to why he had been loitering around the entrance of the Third Division barracks for almost ten minutes.

"Yeah! Uh, I wanted to ask you something." He responded, with a nervous chuckle.

"Me?" You questioned, with an incredulous stare.

"Yes, you." He swallowed, thickly. You acting clueless was making his stomach harden. He knew he hadn't misheard you.

He let out an exhale.

"I was at the tea house yesterday, and I overheard you and the other lieutenants." He muttered, cheeks heating up as he struggled to meet your eyes.

You just stared at him and you were sure you could hear glass shattering in your mind.

You wanted the ground to swallow you up, whole.

There was absolutely no way you were thirsting over Renji in public and he had heard every word you said.

This was a nightmare for sure.

Your face was aghast but you know for the preservation of your dignity you had to do something dishonest.

“Really? Maybe that was somebody else.” You said as you shrugged nonchalantly.

“No, no. I’m sure it was you.” He said, with an uneasy laugh.

“Did you see me say that?” You questioned, voice firm as you intently stared into his eyes.

Renji was staring at you as if you lost your mind. Then let out a scoff.

“You’re right. I had to be out of my mind to think a girl like you would be into a guy like me.” He said, a little defeatedly then turned to make his way out.

You felt a pang of guilt strike you. You didn’t mean for that to happen.

“Renji, wait!” You cried out as you clamped a hand around his wrist.

“Hm?” His eyes furrowed together in bewilderment at your reaction.

“I’m sorry I lied…you did hear me at the tea house! I just...I was humiliated..” You trailed off, struggling to make a valid excuse.

His face broke into a smile as he gave out a hearty laugh.

“Caught ya..!”

“Huh?!”

“That feelin’ sorry for myself act got you real good!” He exclaimed, then threw an arm around you pulling you in.

“Ugh, Renji!” You groaned in irritation, swatting him away. “That’s low!”

“Not as low as you trying to convince me I got a screw loose or somethin’!” He shot back, keeping his grip around you. “The look on your face was priceless!”

You rolled your eyes.

“Gloat while you can.” You muttered under your breath.

“Ah, don’t worry. I think you’re pretty easy on the eyes too y’know..” He said, lowly as he tilted your chin upwards. “I’ll let you know the next time I’m working out so you can be front row.”

“Move!”

author’s note:

if you got this far, ty for reading!! make sure to reblog n comment if u like it lawl likes not doing much no shade

#⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nara scribbles #bleach x reader #bleach x female reader #bleach x y/n #bleach x you #abarai renji #renji x reader #renji x you #bleach imagine #bleach scenarios #bleach imagines #bleach fluff

[vulture-writes-stuff]

i love to imagine balls or formal dances at the pokémon scarlet and violet academies - like the purple/orange themes and the pokémon aaaaa

can i pretty please get an arven x reader (gn! - but preferably wearing a floor length dress?) either hcs or a fic of him being your date to the dance? maybe a bit of nsfw/suggestive content in between or after the dance?? i ADORE all your arven work btw <3

Oh man I've been low-key thinking about a prom thing for the academy... Mainly because I came across my prom pics and I remembered how slick I looked in that suit and how amazing my GF looked. She bought ME flowers can you believe it it was so amazing

Sorry this took ages I'm a very lazy man. Also, in an effort to keep this as gender neutral as possible, I didn't explicitly describe the reader's outfit. I left it up to your imagination though!!!

As a small apology for not putting the reader in a gown, I drew the friend group in their outfits for this. Can find that right here on my main blog!

Arven X GN Reader

The academy hosts a yearly ball, and champions have to participate. Unfortunately for Arven, his partner is a Champion, and forced him to come. He's not one for big social gatherings, but at least they're there to make it easier...

Reader is the SV protagonist, and is 18+. Same with Arven. Reader's appearance is left vague, and they have a Skeledirge. Reader is mentioned to be wearing something in their favorite color, and also mentions feeling overdressed at one point. Their clothing is not described other than that. Arven's outfit is explicitly described though.

Author's note: An interaction between Arven and the Champ gets a little spicy, but there's nothing explicit. Just wandering hands and making out. Not a smut, but just be aware of that!! Also background Penny/Nemona because I love them.

🚨⚠️ CONTAINS MAJOR SV SPOILERS!!! ⚠️🚨

Arven had never been a fan of big gatherings. Too many people clumped together in one place, too much noise and clamor. It always overloaded his brain.

Today, though, he was putting that distaste aside for ____. The Academy was hosting a formal ball of sorts for it's students, and attendance was mandatory for the two Champion representatives. ____ was less than thrilled about this news, and had basically begged Arven to come with them.

What kind of boyfriend would he have been if he declined?

Arven was currently standing in front of the mirror in his dorm, anxiously fixing his lilac blazer. He owned a grand total of one formal outfit, and he worried over whether or not it suited him. He'd tied his hair up at ____'s request, though he was concerned the hairtie he'd used would snap.

"What do you think, Mabosstiff? Is this- nice enough? Fancy enough?" He asked his buddy without really thinking, looking at the Pokemon through the mirror. Mabosstiff lifted his head, tail thumping against the floor.

"Wuff!" He barked helpfully, standing up to trundle up to Arven. The trainer gave him a worried pat on the head, sighing mournfully.

"Thanks, bud... I am in way over my head." Arven huffed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He perked up when he heard a knock at the door, adjusting his jacket one more time before hustling to open it.

____ looked about as anxious as he was, continually fixing their hair even if it already looked nice.

"Oh- H-Hey." They cleared their throat, rubbing the back of their neck. "You look good with your hair up like that. Not that you don't always look good, but... It's nice to see both of your eyes."

"Thanks!" Arven mindlessly tried to hook his thumbs in pockets that weren't there. ____ was wearing an outfit that suited them perfectly, in a color he knew was their favorite - they looked absolutely stunning. He probably could've just stood there and stared for the rest of the night. "You- you look incredible. I mean that, by the way."

"Oh, you. I feel so overdressed, it's ridiculous..." ____'s tension seemed to die as they laughed, walking forward to wrap him in a tight hug he happily returned. "...I'm really nervous. I have to give a whole speech, and I am not looking forward to it."

"You'll do amazing, I know you will." He reassured them, pressing a feather-light kiss to their forehead. "You always do amazing."

____ sighed, lingering on the spot for a few moments longer before they released Arven. Their arm was still looped in his, though, keeping him close to them.

"Alright, I'm ready as I'll ever be. Let's go find Penny and Nemona." They sighed. Arven gave them a final reassuring squeeze before they went off together.

The Academy's halls were oddly empty, considering how many students it had - it seemed most had already flocked down to where the event was taking place. There were a few stragglers here and there, mostly students waiting to meet up with their friends.

"Nemona said she's in the plaza already... Damn, that probably means we have to do our big speeches soon." ____ huffed, nervously scrolling through their texts. "Oh, man... You know how I said I was ready earlier? I'm not. I'm definitely not. What if I stutter and screw up, or I lose my train of thought? This is in front of *everyone*!"

"Hey, hey, you'll be alright. You can handle anything - you saved the entire region from an ecological disaster. You ride around on the back of a legendary pokemon, and you caught pokemon that are complete enigmas AND made them your friends!" Arven paused to grab their face, squishing their cheeks in his palms. "One speech won't hurt you. It doesn't matter if you stutter or lose your train of thought, or forget what you wanted to say entirely. You are absolutely incredible."

The two trainers were silent for a long moment, before ____ sniffled. Arven panicked.

"Oh, I didn't mean to make you cry- please don't cry, I'm sorry!!" He wrapped them up in a hug, one they reciprocated shakily.

"You're too good to me!" ____ exclaimed dramatically, burying their face in his chest. "Ohhh, I don't mean to get so emotional!"

"Deep breaths, just settle... In and out." Arven ran a hand down their back in an attempt to soothe them. They went quiet after a minute or so, wiping away at their eyes.

"Okay, I'm okay. I'm alright." ____ seemed to be assuring themselves more than Arven, which he thought was a smart choice. He continued to hold them even after they made to pull away, keeping an arm around their shoulders. "I've got this. All I've gotta do is- is talk about how the Academy helped me."

"You can do it. If not for me, do it for Mabosstiff." Arven joked lightly, and ____ laughed along.

"Right. Do it for Mabosstiff... And Skeledirge." They nodded wisely, and he hummed in agreement. The couple finally made their way down to the plaza - the faculty had set up a rudimentary stage, evidently for the sole purpose of speeches. The rest of the school plaza was decorated with lights, which made the whole place look lovely. Students milled about with their Pokemon, and staff chatted amiably with eachother.

Arven spotted Penny near the foot of the stairs - she was more dressed up than he'd ever seen her before, wearing a pastel dress and a fluffy coat. It almost reminded him of her eeveelutions... She was probably inspired by them. Penny was standing next to Nemona, chatting with Giacomo, Mela, and Ortega. Nemona had her arm slung casually around Penny's shoulder, and Arven could see from here that Penny was redder than a fresh tomato.

"Hey! ____, Arven!" Nemona spotted them first, lighting up as she waved. The former leaders of Team Star parted ways with a quiet 'Hasta la vistar! ☆', and the four remaining students met in the middle. "You both look great! Oh, ____, are you ready for-"

"The speeches we have to give." ____ groaned, prompting Nemona to scuff their shoulder playfully.

"You'll be fiiiine! It isn't the end of the world!" Nemona beamed, making Penny chortle.

"I dunno, talking in front of a lot of people is kind of the worst thing EVER." Penny gave ____ a sympathetic little shrug. "Talking in front of a few people sucks almost as bad, though."

"You get it." ____ sighed, slumping against Arven. "You both look great, by the way."

"Beat me to it." Nemona joked. Arven finally took the time to see what she was wearing - a deep maroon suit, much like his, with a bright red bowtie and a simple white dress shirt. She seemed to forgo wearing the jacket, wearing it like a cape over her shoulders... It reminded him vaguely of the Galarian champion, what was his name? Penny probably knew. "I helped Penny pick out her stuff - she didn't have anything to wear!"

"I wasn't planning on coming til you invited me." Penny huffed, though she didn't look upset. Before anybody else could talk, both ____ and Nemona's phones pinged.

"Ope - it's time! Come on, let's get it over with so we can have our Academy Double Date! Even if I'd prefer it be a Double BATTLE...." Nemona's voice trailed off as she grabbed ____ by the wrist and dragged them off. Arven gave their hand a final squeeze before they followed along, a final 'good luck.'

"Alright, Pipsqueak, let's find somewhere to watch." Arven adjusted his coat again, though it really didn't need adjusting. He made his way towards the gathering crowd, but Penny stopped him.

"Somewhere I can actually see from, ideally, you Big Lunk." Penny scolded, jabbing a finger over her shoulder towards the makeshift stage. There was an area off to the side that was less populated, and wouldn't require Penny needing to crane her neck to see what was happening.

The pair weaved through the crowds, finally finding a good spot to watch. It was close enough for them to actually hear, but far enough to not get surrounded by other students.

____ and Nemona were up on stage, quietly chatting to Director Clavell. Nemona seemed eager to do her speech, but Arven guessed based on ____'s expression that they were up first. Indeed, they stepped up to the microphone, briefly checking if it was actually on.

The crowd began to quiet as ____ cleared their throat, and soon enough all eyes were on them.

"... It's been almost a year now since I moved to Paldea. Next week, actually, marks a full 365 days." ____ started. "When I first came here from Unova, I admittedly had... Low expectations. For myself, more than anything. I was just some kid from Nuvema Town, I'd never picked up a PokeBall before."

They spotted Arven in the crowd, and he gave them a quiet thumbs up.

"But- y'know, being at the Academy has really changed everything. It's not every day the director himself comes knocking on your door to give you a Pokemon." ____ glanced at Clavell, who adjusted his glasses with a smile. "And it's also not every day you happen to meet your three best friends in the entire world on the same day, within a few hours of eachother. I know a lot of people think the same thing about themselves - oh, I'm just a nobody, I can't do what they do. But I want to tell you all, as someone who WAS a nobody... Success isn't out of reach. With support from your peers, you can climb to any height you can imagine... And I, as one of this school's two champions, am going to be your leverage. We can lift eachother up to be our best, and make something that we can be proud of."

Even if their speech was short and sweet, it got their desired message across - the crowd of students clapped politely as they hopped off the stage, dodging through people with surprising mastery. Arven only realized they were coming right to him when they gestured for him to follow.

"I'll be right back," Arven said, and Penny only vaguely hummed in response. She had her chin propped on her upturned palm, watching Nemona with a dreamy look in her eyes. He excused himself quickly right as Nemona began to talk, of course mentioning her love of battling.

Arven followed ____ up the stairs and into the school, where they rounded a corner into a hall. He lost track of them for a moment, before they grabbed his wrist and yanked him into an empty classroom.

"Why are you-" Arven is silenced when their lips meet his, and they push him back until he's sitting on one of the desks. He flings an arm back to hold himself upright as they casually clamber into his lap, disregarding the fact that they might screw up their nice outfit.

____ holds onto his blazer like a lifeline, and Arven takes a moment to figure out how to keep them both from falling over before he leans into them. They were so tense, it was rather surprising.

He runs his hand down the back of their neck, tracing his fingers down their spine - they shudder when he caresses the dip of their back, making a soft noise that he could barely hear.

"Arven..." They gasp as they pull apart for a moment, before eagerly diving back in for more. He happily reciprocates, finally comfortable enough to set both hands on their hips. Arven runs his palms down their thighs as they slide their fingers underneath his blazer, too impatient to try with the buttons. How long has it been? Arven can't think straight, trailing his hands up their thighs towards-

And then his phone rings. It's Nemona. Of course it is. ____ groans, flopping against him. Obviously this means they have to go back to the actual ball.

"Chin up, it'll be alright. Your big speech is over, I guess it's time we went and had fun." Arven can't help but feel a little disappointed. He did enjoy their time alone.

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Reasonable." ____ hopped up, fixing their outfit. "Come on, let's not leave Nemona waiting."

Short because I've been really busy lately, plus just not really felt like writing

Shits been rough. Hope you understand

#fanfic #x reader #writers on tumblr #pokemon x reader #writing requests #pokemon arven x reader #x gn reader #x female reader #x male reader #x gender neutral reader #pokemon scarlet and violet #spoilers #pokemon spoilers

[dotieeee]

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 4

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

*******************************************************************************************

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

Some mentions of violence

Mild voyeurism

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 4: Scarlet Sage

A whimper escapes the back of your throat as you place your palms on his chest in an attempt to push him away – but you might as well have pushed against a brick wall. Seemingly aroused by the sound you made, he sucks on your lower lip and angles your head for better access. He starts leaving open-mouthed kisses on your jawline, leaving you winded and your lips raw red.

“Please, my Lord…” you beg with a quivering voice.

The moment you start feeling his hot breath on your neck, one of the library doors opens with a soft creaking sound followed by muffled footsteps. The Dream King stills at the intrusion with a small growl – using this momentary distraction, you break away from his grip and make a wild run for it.

You might’ve heard him chuckle under his breath, but you’re not quite sure. At that point, you didn’t care – you don’t dare look back as you dash madly out of the library, and eventually out of the palace grounds. You put as much distance between your king and yourself, paying no mind where you were going or how fast you were going. You run until you reach the foot of the bridge connecting the palace and town plaza, clutching a stitch on your side, and panting heavily for air. Hanging on to the bridge railing for support, you allow your breathing to slightly even out before breaking into a sprint once more, narrowly avoiding collision with a man pushing a cart of what looked like tiny red flowers on stalks.

You reach the forest, noisily rushing past the floor of dead leaves as you flee, tripping occasionally on protruding tree roots. You get a little paranoid; you slow your pace a little and peek behind you because you thought you heard rustling – assuming that your mind must’ve been playing tricks on you, you resume your trot – 

Only to slide into a shallow, well-hidden ravine with a loud yelp that echoes throughout the woods.

Fortunately, you land on a pile of dried leaves, so it doesn’t take you long to gather your bearings and finally let the adrenaline wear off. You let out a few mild coughs before greedily gulping in the air of the forest, and, plopping down on its floor, you lean on the thick, exposed tree root behind you. At that point, it finally dawns on you exactly what made you run away in the first place.

Your creator and master, Dream of the Endless, had just maybe confessed the nature of his intentions towards you.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” You mutter to yourself out loud, burying your face in your palms.

Without your control, the incident in the library flashes in your mind; the way he cornered you and pressed against you; the way his breath fanned your face, and the way his lips insistently roamed yours and demanded access –

Mentally, you shake the feeling of him off you. How many teenage girls’ dreams have you seen involved such romantic trysts with their childhood crushes among the hidden confines of bookshelves, stifled giggling, and hushed voices? You certainly remember how the dreams felt: they were sweet and, at times, awkward; but also, thrilling and full of innocence. Your first kiss with the Dream Lord, however, felt almost too heavy and too sensual – it felt wrong.

And then there’s that other matter: you, a mere dream, had just maybe rejected his advances.

You gather your knees to your chest and buried your face in them, groaning in frustration. You have never gotten on the Dream Lord’s wrathful side – Candor herself has stated that he was somehow more lenient, daresay more affectionate towards you. Certainly, you’d fall in more favour in his eyes should you submit to him. But, as hard as it is to admit, he is your creator and King – and thus you see him only as a monarch, a figure of authority. You are loyal to him, that has been proven, but crossing that boundary was something else.

Now, you’re sure your refusal of him had deeply disappointed him, even enraged him – but was that enough to warrant an unmaking? Would he summon you, or search for you himself, and sentence you back to the dust from which he formed you? Just what have you dug yourself into?

   The gravity of your actions starts to hit you: you might’ve just doomed yourself to roaming the kingdom – his kingdom – a fugitive, forever in fear of his shadow, a subject of his ire.

Just then, a shuffle of dried leaves startles you. You leap to your feet and start backing away. Has he finally come to find you and punish you for spurning him?

“Who’s there?” You summon the courage to speak, your voice high-pitched and shaking.

Out from the distance, you hear a wild hacking noise – like someone was getting dirt out of their throat. You approach the sound a little more confidently now that you’re sure it isn’t the Dream Lord. True enough, you walk into the sight of Abel, sitting up half-buried in freshly dug earth; he really was trying to get the dirt out of his throat. Rushing to his side, you help him get to his feet and brush the damp soil off his hair.

“Thank you, Mera. My brother sure did a number on this grave – it took me a while to dig my way out of it,” Abel says cheerily.

Chuckling lightly, you pick up the earthworm that managed to crawl into his jacket pocket. “Hello to you too, Abel.”

There only have been a handful of times you’ve seen Abel rise from his grave, but the first time sure gave you quite the shock. Such is the fate of the first brothers: one forced to kill, the other forced to resurrect in a never-ending cycle of bloody murder that went on since the dawn of mankind. One could call it a ‘twisted’ form of brotherly love. Will you suffer the same fate, you wonder, under the hands of your creator? Will you also be forever cursed to roam the realm, being unmade and remade at the whim of a jilted monarch?

“Mera? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Abel waves his hand in front of you to get your attention. “Well, granted you have seen a corpse, or at least one’s that’s recently been…are you alright?”

Giving him a weary smile, you respond, “You know what, Abel, I don’t think I am.”

Immediately, Abel’s jovial expression turns to one of concern. “Oh, dear. Is that why you’ve come all the way here? To be honest, I do find it peculiar why you’re here, of all places.”

Trying to lighten his sullen mood, you joke, “To be fair, this isn’t where Cain usually buries you.”

Letting out a dry chortle, he relents. “Yeah, he really wanted me to have a hard time.” His face suddenly lights up and offers, “If you’d like, we can talk about whatever’s bothering you on the way to my house. And we can finally have tea! Your last visit was cut short, after all.”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“Wonderful!” He exclaims, rummaging on the back of his jacket for something you can’t see. “Aw, rats. I told Cain to be careful with this coat; he knows this is my favourite…”

***

You tread along Abel at a leisurely pace through the thick of the woods. You listen to him rant about how his older brother always manages to ruin this specific jacket every time he kills him, pointing at this back where a large tear is, in the middle of a huge splotch of blood. This somehow comforts you, listening to someone else’s troubles for once. It’s a humbling experience, knowing that the Dreaming Realm, its residents, and its dreamers would continue their lives just fine even if your master decides to uncreate you. It’s a bizarre feeling, but you relish it, nonetheless. So, when he asks you to tell him what was bothering you, your head is a lot clearer, your mood calmer – so you conveniently leave out the other details of that event in the library, only revealing to him that the Dream Lord ‘caught you by surprise’ and that ‘pushed him away in your haste.’

At your careful wording, Abel’s eyes widen and his jaw drops to the floor, indicating he understood what you meant.

“You mean, he’s just told you?”

Eyeing him questioningly, you ask, “What do you mean ‘just?’”

He meets your cautious gaze with an apologetic expression. “I mean, come on, Mera. It always has been painfully obvious to everyone in the Dreaming how he’s had eyes on you from the beginning.”

“‘From the beginning?’ How come no one bothered to tell me, then?” you mutter sourly. “How come it seems like everyone knows something except me?”

“Honestly, Mera, no one wants to interfere with his…affairs. I thought you already knew, given that he’s always around you and all. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I’ve seen him around you. With you, he’s a lot…nicer. I don’t know how else to put it. With anyone else…oh boy,” he lets out a dry chuckle, before continuing. “The gloom emanating from him – hard to imagine how he’s related to Death, she’s always so sweet.”

“I’ve heard that before,” you mutter darkly, but Abel doesn’t seem to hear.

“Oh, look! We’re nearly there! There’s that old path leading to the house.” He points to a narrow, beaten path, and sure enough, you can see how it led to a thinner set of woods with much more clearing, indicating that you were almost about to exit the forest. “You’re still coming over for tea, right? I can bake us some gingersnaps. You know, Cain once clobbered me on the head with a cast iron pan for making them too sweet…”

Glad for a change of topic, you follow Abel to the path, listening to him recall the cookie recipe, absently noting how he’s forgotten to add salt, of all things, to his mental list. Right now, you needed a strategy: the Dream Lord might’ve taken you off work temporarily, but it doesn’t mean you can’t pop by the sea of dreams unnoticed. Figuring it was the only way you could avoid him, you resolve to stay away as much as you can and for as long as you can from the palace grounds, at least until your master’s interest has waned – you silently offer a prayer to the Fates that it does soon.

Good luck with that, the Voice mutters darkly. 

***

Dream of the Endless immediately feels the loss of your warmth the moment you wriggle away from his embrace. Chuckling darkly to himself, his heated gaze follows you as you scurry your way out of the library, leaving him to deal with a rather painful arousal that’s begging to be relieved. He regains control of himself before sauntering over to the table where your scribbled notes were, lazily running his fingers over the papers in deep thought. Would he have taken you right there, on the table, had you not resisted? He would’ve, he admits to himself, but he’s also aware it’s hardly the proper place – he wants your first time with him to be burned into your memory; thus, he would have to make it special and in the privacy of his own chambers. Besides, even that kiss you briefly shared with him seems to have proven too much of a confession for you. He couldn’t deny that he’s thrilled by the chase you’re giving, but he could drive you further away should he increase his pace. He would have to keep his distance, for now, taking satisfaction from the fact that he’d eventually win you as his prize in this game he could play for eternity.

Quietly, he approaches his librarian’s desk. He had other matters in the Realm to take care of before he can contemplate his next move on you.

“Lucienne.”

The royal librarian in question nearly jumps from her seat at his call. His tone might’ve come out a bit more biting than usual – he is, after all, still displeased with her interruption, however unaware she was of it.

Still clutching her chest at his sudden presence, she asks, “Yes, my lord?”

“I have other nightmares to apprehend and a matter to investigate. In the meantime, I have a task for you.”

***

It’s been days since you last been in the palace. You’ve been resting minimally since in the lush lands of Fiddler’s Green, and while it sucked to be essentially homeless and on the run, you’re grateful that you have not seen a single hair of your creator since the library incident. Not even in the dreams you have visited so far did you feel his presence. Still, even your reprieve could not take your mind off the notes you’ve left on the desk; those were notes which could immensely help with your work, now that you’re spending more time than usual in the dreams of the humans.

So, it’s in this uneventful night that you decide to sneak into the library and retrieve the papers, wishing your luck in the last few days extends to this little trip. You tiptoe noiselessly through the vast halls, your eyes scanning every nook and cranny with wary eyes. Finally, you reach the tall doors that lead to your target room. You press an ear on one of them to check for signs of anyone inside, and when you heard nothing, you gingerly push it open, whizzing past the bookshelves to reach the desk.

Finally, you reach the desk where the papers lay, stacked neatly on its corner with a paperweight on top. Lucienne must’ve tidied them up for you. Making a mental note to thank her later, you make a quick grab for them and move to head out.

When you reach D wing, however, you pause at the sound of a pen scribbling on paper. You crouch down, hiding under the nearest desk, straining for any sound that might give you a clue as to who it is. To your horror, Jessamy, the Dream Lord’s raven, lands squarely in front of you, her beady eyes staring at you with curiosity.

Panicking, you gesture to her to keep it down please, but in an act of treachery (or loyalty), she lets out a loud ‘caw,’ alerting whoever is with her of your whereabouts. Cursing under your breath at your rotten luck, your heartbeat thrums in your ears as you wait for the inevitable –

“Hello? Who’s there?”

It’s Lucienne! Fortune must’ve favoured you at the last minute. You crawl out of your hiding place to greet her, beyond relieved that it was her you’re greeting instead of a certain Endless.

“Mera? Oh dear, what are you doing down there?” Lucienne rushes to your side to help you up, as Jessamy flies to perch on the top of one of the bookshelves.

“Hello Lucienne, sorry if I startled you,” Smiling apologetically, you gesture to the papers in your hand. “I just had to get them back…”

She flashes you an exasperated smile, before inviting you to sit with her on the desk she’s working on. “Where have you been for the last few days?” She questions, settling once more on her parchment, writing.

“Uh, I’ve been around. Is he here?”

“If you’re talking about Lord Morpheus, no he’s not,” she replies, raising her eyebrows at the way your shoulders relax. “And don’t think you can evade my question, Mera.”

At her stern gaze, you balk and respond, “I’ve been to the dreams and Fiddler’s Green –”

“Mera, you know very well that Lord Morpheus has told you –”

“Stay here and recover, yes, but I’ve been so bored, Lucienne,” you say with a pleading look. You don’t tell her the other reason why; you figure she doesn’t need to know.

“I understand you’re eager to get back to helping your dreamers, Mera,” she says with a sympathetic expression. “But you know how he can be if his word is disobeyed.”

You offer no response to her comment. Flashes of him cornering you among the bookshelves replay in your head, and you mentally shudder.

“I’m under explicit orders from the Dream Lord to keep you in the palace.”

Mouth agape, you begin to protest but, one look from Lucienne silences you.

“He has ordered your own chamber to be made within the palace, where you are to rest from now on. I suggest you collect your belongings from the staff quarters and transfer them there. I can show you where it is.”

Resigned to your fate, you merely respond, “So I’m under house arrest.”

Lucienne’s sympathetic expression never leaves her face. “Don’t give me that look, Mera. I’m sure Lord Morpheus will be willing to let you go back to work once he has caught all the missing nightmares. There is one that currently keeps eluding him.”

You simply nod, even though you were dreading being in his immediate reach as soon as he returns. You have yet to meet with him since he stole your first kiss, and you’re still unsure what his true intentions are of you after you all but rejected him.

“There’s one more thing. Jessamy will watch over you from time to time.”

At that point, you let an aggravated groan, while Jessamy ruffles her feathers in seeming indignance.

***

The staff quarter wing is almost always empty, and the rooms were small and bare. Most of the dreams and nightmares recuperate elsewhere, and you can’t blame them for it – while the rooms were more than adequate for the rest your kind take, nothing could compare to the sprawling views that other places in the Dreaming can offer. Entering the room you’re assigned to, you’re followed by Jessamy, flying in low and settling on the bed’s headboard with a single, soft ‘caw.’

“I’m sorry about, you know, back in the library,” you say. “No hard feelings?”

As if accepting your apology, she caws again, this time a little louder.

Giving her a wan smile, you start scanning the room for anything you can bring with you. You don’t have many possessions, anyway – save a few clothes and a book to which you usually bind your notes, there isn’t much to collect. Together, you and Jessamy make your way back to the main hall, where Lucienne was waiting. Wordlessly, she beckons you to follow, and, climbing through the grand marble staircase where the suites are, she leads you to a floor high up in the palace – the floor which you recognize is where the Dream Lord’s chambers are located. Even as a wave of nausea hits you at this knowledge, you walk on, concentrating on the sound of Lucienne’s heels on marble and the flapping of Jessamy’s wings.

“This is where you are. Down that hall to your right. You’ll find everything you need in there, but Lord Morpheus also assigned you a lady-in-waiting should you want anything. She’ll be available tomorrow.”

“Wait, but I don’t need one…”

“Dream Lord’s orders, I’m afraid.”

You nod tiredly in acquiescence. “Thank you, Lucienne. I just wish I was back at work, you know.”

“You will be, soon,” she says in a reassuring tone. “For now, try indulging him. You gave him quite the scare after the demon attack, even if he didn’t show it outwardly. Good night, Mera.”

And with that, she marches off to the hall before going out of sight.

Sighing inwardly, you head off to the end of the hallway where you reach an ornate double door with brass handles. Pushing it open, you couldn’t help the gasp that comes out of you.

The room, after all, simply took your breath away.

The circular room is enormous and sparse of décor, save for the chaise lounge upholstered with rich velvet, and the towering four-poster bed at the center adorned in dark silken drapes. The room’s source of light, aside from the rich moonlight shining through the tall glass windows, are millions of glittering stars painted on the ceiling, forming constellations and galaxies, all twinkling and swirling as if they were plucked straight from the very blanket of the universe. To your left is a door, left ajar, leading to a balcony that you’re sure is overlooking one of the best views of the Realm the palace can offer.

And yet, as you sit on the edge of the chaise, with all the beauty surrounding you, you’re left with a staggering feeling of foreboding – deep down, your heart knows that all this grandeur comes with a price you know you can’t very well pay.

Jessamy lands on the railing at the foot of the bed, cawing, before flying off out to the balcony and vanishing into the night.

Emotionally exhausted and pointedly avoiding the massive bed, you curl up on the sofa and drift off to sweet oblivion.

*** 

Get up, sleepyhead.

Piss off, you bite back at the false saccharin tone of the Voice, now widely awake on the bed you didn’t fall asleep on last night. Throwing off the silk blanket, you leap to your feet and out of the bed, dizzying yourself in the process. A soft ‘caw’ alerted you to the presence of Jessamy perched on the chaise lounge, except there is something else draped over the couch.

You tentatively approach the thing like it was a bomb about to go off. Upon closer inspection, you make it out as a silk ruby-red dress, and on it a note:

To my little dream

You back away, hyperventilating, the bed breaking your fall. Who else would leave a dress of that colour and call you ‘their’ little dream?

A knock on the door makes your heart skip a beat.

“Who’s there?” You call out, dreading the response.

From the other side, a tiny voice squeaks, “M’lady? Are you awake? May I come in?”

Still breathless from the rush, you call out ‘yes,’ after which the door creaks open, and in comes a wispy-looking young woman carrying what looks like a bunch of towels.

“I’m Morwyn, m’lady, and I was assigned to you. You can call me for whatever you need from now on.” She gives you a shy, toothy smile which you return with your own.

“What’s with that?”

“With what, m'lady?” She questions curiously.

“The title. You can…well, my name is Mera – I’m just like you, you know…” You trail off, giving her a teasing smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Oh, but I can’t! The Dream Lord would never allow it, m'lady.”

“Screw what he thinks,” you mutter under your breath. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to hear it.

“Well, I came to draw you a bath, m'lady,” she says, walking over to the chaise where the dress is. “Is this what you’ll be wearing? It’s a lovely choice.”

“What? No. I can’t wear that,” you remark.

“But,” she starts, her face scrunching in confused panic. “It’s a gift! It will be rude not to…not that I’m implying anything –”

“Relax, Morwyn, please.” Giggling, you reassure her that you’ll wear it, but only to appease her. She visibly eases her tense posture before excusing herself to the door on the corner leading to the bathroom.

It’s going to be a long day, you think to yourself.

***

The dress was only the first of a string of gifts you’d be waking up to for the following days. They always came with the same note, the same piece of paper that seemed to hand down your sentence in the most subtle of ways. You wanted to ignore them, but under Jessamy’s watchful eyes, doing so would only earn the gift giver’s displeasure. So, whatever you find lying on the chaise lounge in the morning, you grit your teeth and wear them, even if they make you feel like branded cattle. You never had a taste for material objects, and you’re sure that’s not about to change, no matter how fancy the gift is.

What he couldn’t control, however, were your illicit visits to your dreamers. You’ve been sneaking in and out whenever you can just so you could alleviate the boredom; you know very well you couldn’t sit idly around the palace all day, waiting for an Endless that may or may not come. And you’ve been productive, too, even with lesser time on your hands. You know Lucienne was aware of it, judging by the way her eyebrow would be raised when you come into her view from one of the bookshelves, you’d just shrug it off and smile innocently as she shakes her head and rolls her eyes in exasperation.

After one of your little trips, you decide to take a stroll to the town square. Jessamy or not, at the very least, you had the right to enjoy the wonders of the realm that you love so dearly. For once, it felt like you were back to being the normal dream you always were. You get a bag of chocolate-filled croissants from the corner bakery before your eyes land on the flower shop – and the baskets upon baskets of pretty little red flowers on long stalks you’ve seen growing in the lush gardens in the palace. Oddly enough, that was the only flower they have on display.

Curiously trotting over to the shop, you peer inside to check if they have any other flowers, thinking you might just get some for your room to liven it up a bit during the day.

The florist greets you jovially with a tip of his hat, saying, “Good day, lovely miss! What can I get ya?”

You give him a bright smile in greeting before asking, “Hello, my good sir. Do you happen to have any other kinds of flowers at the back? Something I could use to…brighten the mood in my room a little.”

He shakes his head sadly. “So sorry, miss, but these flowers are all that grow in the kingdom lately, although a few gardeners in the kingdom are cultivating other variants. Harvest comes in a few weeks. I could save some for ya, then.”

“That’d be wonderful. Thank you!”

You walk out of the store, perplexed. How could the kingdom run out of other flowers, and the realm of an Endless, no less?

***

The Endless in question is somewhere deep in his own kingdom, in the lands long forgotten and abandoned by his subjects and his dreamers. He had received intelligence of unaccounted-for beings lurking in these barren terrains which didn’t sit well with him – the last time he had creatures of unknown origins enter his realm without his knowledge, he almost lost the Dreaming, his rule almost overthrown. If these rumors proved true, it was his duty as the monarch to drive them out before they become an unstoppable threat.

That doesn’t mean he couldn’t watch over you through the eyes of his loyal raven.

With the very little free time he had in his hands, he had been closely shadowing you with the help of Jessamy, making sure you were kept from harm's way in his absence. He had been diligent in his quest to draw you closer to him. He was quite proud of the palace chambers he constructed; the way he saw your face light up at the sight of it gave him such a rush, he couldn’t help but go back to the palace and tuck you under the bed covers himself. It had taken all of his strength to pull away from you, but he had to be content with a single chaste peck on your lips, and a soft caress of his fingers on your cheek. Perhaps it was the kiss that had inspired him; for with a stroke of genius, he conjured a dress he had fantasized you wearing, leaving a little note he was sure you’d find. He made sure the dress matched the ruby you wore on your head – his insignia, his mark – he was quite proud of himself with his handiwork, for it was only you in his kingdom, save himself, that sported the jewel: a silent declaration that there was no one else you belonged to. He’d do anything to see your eyes light up like that again, and so with those little gifts he started leaving in your room, he chased that high – only to be a tad disappointed that you seemed to find them wanting. No matter: he has more than enough time to uncover your heart’s desires once he returns.

Channeling Jessamy’s vision, he scans the surroundings for you – you were in the town square, strolling, wearing the jewel-crusted auburn robe he had left for you that morning. You were wrapped in it so elegantly, exposing the delicate skin on your neck and collar bones. He couldn’t help but grin, recalling how he was so close to marking that soft flesh with his lips, had he not been interrupted that day in the library. 

If there was one thing he has learned about you so far, it was that little defiant streak in you, manifested by those surreptitious little visits you made to your choice of dreamers. Although these trips had him worried for your wellbeing, he had to admit that this previously undiscovered part of you he found rather enticing. Only time will tell what other facets of you he can bare – and he has an eternity of it.

Breaking off the connection with his familiar and acting on impulse, he transports himself stealthily back to the palace, deciding to leave one more gift before he continues his journey.

***

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen those flowers in abundance, but its name had escaped you, and you had always forgotten to look them up in the library. You’re beyond curious now, and although you had learned how this feeling seemed to always lead you to trouble, it couldn’t hurt, could it? It was no big deal, after all – just a harmless little flower.

The library is empty, you discover. Lucienne might have run on a quick errand, so you have the library all to yourself for now. You head to your favorite reading spot, intending to leave the bag of pastries on the coffee table.

Once you get there, however, the bag drops from your hand, and the once-quiet library begins echoing with ungodly screams coming from your head. Covering your ears in the stinging pain, your eyes try to scan the immediate area for what the Voice was screaming about.

There, laying innocently on the couch you loved is a bouquet of the very same flowers you had intended to research, wrapped in a neat ruby-red bow.

On the library floor, you wait on your fours for the screaming to stop, bewildered at its reaction to a seemingly innocent bunch of blooms. You get up, practically running, in frantic search of those flowers, anything that could help you pinpoint the meaning behind their appearance.

You find it in one of your dreamers' books: ‘A Florist’s Folio of Fabulous Florals’ by Ferdinand Fink. There, beside a pretty painting of the crimson bloom, read:

Scarlet sage

Scientific name: Salvia splendens

Symbolism: The red-blooming Salvia flower is traditionally associated with love and romance; “forever mine”

And like a red-hot coal, you drop the book, watching as its pages close shut before landing on the carpeted floor with a muffled thud.

******************************************************************************

Link to the next chapter

Author notes:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 11/13/22

Edit date: 11/13/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

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#the sandman #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fanfiction #dream x reader #no y/n #dream x you #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dark!morpheus x reader #morpheus goes batshit crazy #lord morpheus #lord morpheus x reader #lord morpheus x you #morpheus x reader #Morpheus x You #dream of the endless #king of dreams #ruler of the nightmare realm #18+ONLY #tom sturridge as dream #tom sturridge character #sandman #the dream that got away #dark!morpheus #dark!dream of the endless #dark!dream

[psalacanthea]

WiP Wednesday

now that I have a second to breathe, a bit from the upcoming chapter of the Tav x Astarion Modern AU fic (FOUND HERE!). Zyn once again destroying his own flirting because he can't watch her damn mouth.

...

Eventually his repeated stubbornness drove Zyn to snapping, capping the eyeliner with a vengeance and tossing it at Astarion, the small tube bouncing off his chest and falling into the sink between his thighs.

“You have to commit!”

“Your idea of ‘committing’ is practically heels and drag makeup.”

Irritated by his bloody-minded bullshit, Zyn slammed his hands on the mirror to either side of Astarion’s head.  “Malice and Misfortune, stop being so reductive!  You’re not even talented enough to be a drag queen; don’t flatter yourself.”

Catlike, scarlet eyes narrowed at Zyn, arrogance oozing from every word.  “How dare you.”  But there was a hint of something, a little smugness that peeked out.

“I’m sorry, are you irritating me on purpose?” he inquired, shifting from flat hands to forearms, thumping against the tarnished glass.

Their faces, nearly nose-to-nose, were close enough that he could feel Astarion’s breath on his skin when he laughed, self-satisfied.  The moment had become taut, pulled tight, like a string desperate to be played.  Emotions pulled to the surface by arguing bubbled under the surface, wobbling dangerously.

Well, sometimes that was how sexual chemistry went, wasn’t it?

This kind was…messy but fun.

“I don’t like it when you pretend to be nonchalant.  You’re not very good at it,” the bastard replied, lifting a hand to run fingers along his jaw, sliding down towards his neck.  There was a frivolously academic lilt to his voice.  “You’re fascinating, you know.  And all the more intriguing for being so…” His legs tightened around Zyn, dragging them an inch closer together.  “Flexible.”

Zyn was pulled up off his heels.  “Interesting choice of words,” he breathed against Astarion’s skin, arrested by his eyes.

“I like it.”  A hand tucked under Zyn’s chin, lifting his head slightly.  Astarion smirked, pinkie drawing lazily across his throat.  “I can see you…the real you.  It isn’t in the face, or the…”  His eyes flicked down and to the side, playfully.  “Well, what’s between your thighs.  No.  It’s your smile.  The little wrinkle in your brow, and across the bridge of your darling nose.  The little white freckles…under your exquisite moonlight eyes.”

Dumbstruck, feeling abruptly swept up in some violent current, Zyn went briefly silent.  

It felt like a trick.

“And?” he finally asked.

“And I think…”  Fingers nudged lightly to tilt his head, Astarion’s voice going quieter, throatier.  “I think I’d like to kiss you.”

The moment was tense…but too tense.  Instincts galloped to the fore; inappropriate and gleefully glib.  Definitely badly timed as well.

“I knew I’d win eventually.  Don't be a sore loser. Let’s cancel this whole business and go to bed,” Zyn teased as his sense of humor won out over his libido.  

Like always, it backfired.

Astarion instantly leaned back, eyes averting as he gave a faint ‘hmph’.  With a dismissive flick of his hand, he threw Zyn’s head to the side as they parted.  His pinkie nail dug slightly against skin in retreat, leaving a sting.  Ow.  Vampire claws.

Pouting, Zyn jerked his head up.  “Hey!”

"You ruin everything!"

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #tav: zynatheri rivati #astarion x tav #modern au #vamps romance and other dead things #wip wednesday

[oldstateofmind]

➜ pairing: doctor strange x fem!reader / sinister!doctor strange x fem!reader ➜ warnings: spoilers from mom, one-sided feelings, angst, mention of injury, blood ➜ words: 3.9k ➜ [chapter l] ➜ a/n: Hello everyone, guess who is back?! I’m so sorry for taking so long to update, life happens and you know how it goes, but alas, here it is! I hope the wait was worth it. Also, i made a playlist for this fic, if you want to check it out!

chapter ll. all alone at his golden temple

“Hello?” You ask, voice small due to the pain, “Is there anyone here" “Depends on who is asking.” The deep, calm voice sends a shiver down your spine. And even at the end of the world, where the sky spun around swallowing everything it touched, even when the silence was the only sound you could hear in a reality where humanity was extinct, there was no doubt.  Oh, you knew too well who that voice belonged to.

Read on Ao3

The ice-cold dribble of the winter rain running down your clothes was the first thing you felt as your eyes struggled to open. Your body was heavy against the harsh floor, too batted and bruised to move a single muscle; even your lungs had to put an extra effort to keep the oxygen pumping in your veins.

But above it all, everything hurts.

You grunted when the idea of moving was met with a sharp pain at your side. So, instead of fighting against your very nature, the idea of resting for just a few minutes was more than welcome. As the fogginess from the pain slowly dissipates, letting the synapses on your brain run free again to finally make a coherent thought, the pain that comes makes you sick – like a punch in the stomach, all the memories flood your mind in a relentless wave of agony.

The invasion of Kamar-taj. Your fight with Strange; the last thing he said to you. America. The screams of your friends and allies while being torn apart. The blood, so much blood running down the steps of a sacred place. Red painting your vision, the pure horror of not knowing what was lurking in the shadows, in your very reflection. The fear of dying so soon. 

The portal.

Suddenly your eyes open, and the dread soaking your bones is so much colder than the water from the shore washing over your body. 

The last thing you could remember was Strange’s calling your name as the Scarlet Which opened a portal while controlling America—and throwing you right into it.

The scenery that your eyes captured could’ve come from a nightmare. One that you would remember for days on end; every tiny detail still vivid in your mind as you went through your life – that type of nightmare that would take weeks until the eerie feeling at the back of your neck would go away.

As you push yourself from the water – crawling through the sand until the waves were put at a good distance – you watch in disbelief at your surroundings. In this new reality that Wanda had thrown you in; New York, or rather, the world collapsed in on itself. 

Buildings floating through the air, crashing on each other. The particles swam in the sky as if the sea made its way up there – spinning, forever in a flow until there was nothing left to be seen. Although, the snow particles still fell from where it was supposed to, bringing with them the melancholic feeling of New York’s winter and Strange’s cologne. 

The light from the nearby building, still in the process of deterioration, flicked a few times before going completely off. Your head turned in the opposite direction, contemplating the devastating scene of the Brooklyn Bridge being swallowed by the sea, so close to where you lay that for a moment your heart stopped. But even though the waves kept coming, the crumbling bridge stayed afloat in the distance.

The world was silent. And completely lonesome.

What the hell happened here? 

Gathering all the strength you had left, legs trembling with the weight of your body, you lean on the nearest tree for support. There was enough blood running down your waist to be worried, but you didn’t dare take a look at it just yet. Instead, you ripped a bit of the fabric from your uniform and wrapped it around the wound. That would do.

The first step sent a sharp jab of pain that made you see white. The fight had left you debilitated and for a moment you can’t help but curse everything that lead you to this moment. And most of all, your weakness.

If you had been faster, smarter, stronger… Maybe none of these would have happened. You wouldn’t be now fighting to put a foot in front of the other. You wouldn’t be in a completely different reality that it was doomed to destruction. You wouldn’t be alone.

Maybe Strange was right after all.

Trying to ignore the ache in every inch of your being, you start to walk. It wasn’t just your bones that were broken, but your heart too. The fight with Strange was still fresh in your mind, his words cut deeper than anything ever could – even when your waist had a gash from one of the Scarlet witch spells. The skin would eventually heal. But the heart? You weren’t so sure.

There was a feeling of loneliness creeping into you as you made your way to the only place you could find solace in a world about to collapse. If you were lucky, Strange would defeat Wanda before the inevitable end of this reality, then America could come to pick you up, and maybe you could go home.

The amount of “ifs” and “maybes” piling up as you try to come up with a plan only contributes to worsening your mood. The panic of being forgotten invades your mind, making your heart race in anxiety. But at the time being, your focus is solely on the task ahead. 

Finding the Sanctum.

•••

It took some time to find it, the streets of a destroyed New York kept changing, leading you to dead ends. The snow falling wasn’t helping either as you felt the water freezing your clothes against your skin. However, once you spotted the place amongst the dense fog in the distance, a sense of relief – even though small and weak – washed over you. 

It was impossible not to recognize the tall and intimidating building. The place you called home for so many years, was now on the edge of the world; old and haunted, disintegrating inch by inch.

The relief quickly vanished when you heard the sound of something cracking. You felt an uneven object underneath your feet, and when you raised your foot to look at it, the panic in the corner of your mind came to hit you at full speed.

Death surrounded the place; a looming shadow covered the field full of skeletons. Stacks of bones and ashes pilled up in the front of the gate, and more of them were scattered around the Sanctum. Suddenly it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver; it was the sign of complete devastation surrounding the place you considered the most peaceful in the world.

There was almost no strength left in you, everything was spinning so fast that the sound of your heavy breathing was the only thing echoing in your ears. The surroundings only got more disturbing; a sense of dread almost suffocates you like the fog gathering around the building. Whatever happened here, it had been a massacre. And even though the signs were obvious, you refuse to spare a single thought on the matter. 

Slowly, and trying to avoid stepping on the skeletons dispersed around the path, you made your way to the gate, still feeling your heart in your throat. There were black, thick vines growing alongside the tall walls; a sigh of abandonment, or resignation. 

The pain at this point was numb compared to the mess of emotions messing with your heart. There was too much to process, too many implications and revelations to categorize and make some sense of it. Taking a deep breath while trying not to think too much about it, you push the door open. 

For a moment, you take in the sign in a strange state of calmness.

If wasn’t for the fact that the only reason why everything you were seeing was possible only because reality had collapsed and the world around you was crumbling down by each minute, you would have found it beautiful – terrifying, but still beautiful. 

The room opened to a huge staircase that kept going infinitely towards the sky – there was no end to it. Behind it, a big red moon shone through the clouds. The sea breeze hits your face strangely warm. It wasn’t very often you had the opportunity to listen to the sound of waves crashing into the shore, much less watch the tide come in gently, lulling you to sleep.

Your eyes suddenly water as melancholy makes its way to your heart. How strange, to remember the chaos you encountered during your small trip to this place, only to find a strange sort of beauty in the wake of destruction. 

The chair right next to the stairs calls for your name, to sit down for just a moment and enjoy the view, to sink your feet into the sand and close your eyes to the melody of the sea. However, as another sharp jab reminds you that there was an open wound needing attention, you turn your head towards the staircase again, biting the inside of your cheeks so hard that not a single sound would escape your mouth as you make your way up. 

One step after the other.

•••

After what seemed like forever, you reach the top of the stars.

The place was exactly like the Sanctum, but there was an eerie atmosphere to it that you couldn’t put your finger on. The lights were all off; the flames from the chandeliers and candles had all been extinguished, causing the place to look much scarier than it was supposed to be.

You look around, knowing exactly where to go, where to find the things you needed. You could blindly make your way through the room with full confidence, each detail of the Sanctum craved in your mind just like the lines in the palm of your hand. And yet, each step felt wrong, as if you were invading a place you weren’t welcomed. 

And that feeling was the worst of it all.

Leaning into the nearest wall, you try to catch your breath. The dark spots dancing in your vision are getting bigger and never-ceasing. You would faint before you could do anything about your wound if you keep forcing yourself like this. As you look around, trying to form a plan in your head that didn’t involve bleeding to death, you spot a single empty teacup on the table. 

And it’s still stimming hot. 

“Hello?” You ask, voice small due to the pain, “Is there anyone here?”

“Depends on who is asking.”

The deep, calm voice sends a shiver down your spine. And even at the end of the world, where the sky spun around swallowing everything it touched, even when the silence was the only sound you could hear in a reality where humanity was extinct, there was no doubt. 

Oh, you knew too well who that voice belonged to.

There is a creaking on the stairs on the right. You immediately follow with your gaze to where the voice comes from. A type of expectation that makes your hand clammy and your heartbeat pumping so hard that it hurts your ribcage.

And then, you see him. 

“Strange?” The disbelief is clear, even though you knew very well who was the owner of that voice before laying your eyes on him.

“So you know my name,” He says, calm and composed, “I’m sorry I can’t say the same.” 

There’s a pang in your heart having to hear those words. However, you try to brush it off, there was no point in dealing in what you were here… Right? You belonged to another reality, to another Strange. 

Tilting his head back as he glances over you from the top of the stair, Strange brings his hand to his chin, and you don’t dare say a single thing as his gaze is fixed on you.

And you can’t help but do the same. 

His long, slim fingers tap the wooden rail in a slow rhythm as he makes his way down the stairs, but time seems to stop when your eyes land on his face. The light that comes from upstairs illuminates his features and all you can see is the shadow of the man you thought you knew. 

Your eyes follow each of his movements, and even when you should be scared by the man who carries the same face as the one you love, the terrifying curiosity that comes with it is undeniably mesmerizing.

His presence was still the same, tall and imposing. Proud. But there was something different in the way he carried himself. As Strange approaches, looming darkness follows him, frightening you with the amount of dark power surrounding him like a shield. 

You can’t keep your eyes off of him, a strange fixation pulls you to him as Strange approaches. His clothes are worn down, and you notice you have never seen him wearing them before.

“You’re hurt,” Strange points out. His hands remain at his back as he points with a tilt of his chin to the place where you have been pressing ever since you stopped by the doorframe.

Snapping back to reality, you flinch involuntarily at the mention of your wound. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that, there was a variant of Stephen Strange right in front of you, a more dangerous and fatal than you could’ve ever imagined. All the dread you felt when entering this place was justified by the way his magic conflicted with the one you knew. 

Now it was purely dark and sinister.

“What happened? Why is–,” You bit your lips, suppressing a painful moan escaping your lips. The piece of cloth you wrapped around your waist was now soaked, a mixture of blood and water that felt disgusting to the touch.

Strange glances at the place your hand is pressing, raising an eyebrow in the process, but doesn’t say anything else. Your grip on the doorframe turns your knuckles white, but even when your conscience began to falter and your body loses the strength, you stay put. 

Eyes always glued to the man in front of you.

“Why is this reality collapsing?” You try again, voice so fragile you can’t recognize as your own.

The sorcerer pondered for a moment, probably wondering if he should waste his time on someone like you, someone he didn’t know – nor cared about.

“It’s called an Incursion,” He says nonchalantly, looking at the opposite side of the room, “It happens when two realities collide.”

Following his gaze, you find half of the room being swallowed by a black hole; gradually collecting broken pieces and incorporating them into its spiral of clouds and debris. It’s hypnotizing the way it spins, slowly but never faltering. It brings some sort of awe in the face of the inevitable, to watch from this close, a reality being eaten little by little – and not being able to do a single thing but watch it end. 

You return your gaze towards the man again, but his eyes are still fixed ahead. At least the very characteristic stripe of white hair that you’ve always found charming was still there. However, the dark circles adorning his eyes are deeper than you’ve ever seen before. As far as you could remember, even on days where Strange would stay up for hours studying or keeping the universe safe, there was always a worry about his image that at the beginning of your friendship, you would call narcissism. 

However, this Stephen Strange was different. Something was off from the way he carefully walks, eyes sharp as an eagle, ever so observant. His shoulders never left the position that one would take expecting a fight to break out. Even his hair and beard, things that were always trimmed and perfectly tamed, were now grown and uneven on his tired face. 

No, tired wasn’t the exact word for his state. It ran deeper than that. 

“I asked why. Not what it was.”

The man who looks so much like Strange doesn’t answer at first. Instead, his attention turns to you, and goosebumps break through your skin as his gaze met yours – the intensity of it is enough to bring you to your knees. It felt like reaching for air only to be held down by a strong hand around your neck, which you laid bare to him considering your state.

The sense of danger goes off in your mind, sirens blasting through in your ears, telling you to run and put as much distance as your could from him. This Stephen wasn’t the one you knew, far from it. 

In this reality, If Doctor Strange himself was an identity which force was obscure and wrapped around in the darkness, then what does it say about the cause of the destruction you keep seeing around here?

The atmosphere grows heavier by the second, and all you can do is hold your breath.

“You’re a rude little thing, aren’t you?” He finally says, running his hand through the dusty table, “You come here, uninvited. Ask question after question but won’t even tell me your name?”

The pang in your chest doesn’t lessen when the concept of being someone unknown to Strange is mentioned a second time. The depth of your feelings for him is so rooted in your soul, so raw to your very being that even in other realities you imagined that it was still the same. To be aware that your love wasn’t special, that you were just someone he would mention on the footnotes of his story – if ever – hurt. 

It hurts so badly that you have to swallow the lump forming in your throat before speaking. “Y/N.”

Strange nods, “And why are you here, Y/N?”

He walks closer, steps so light you can barely hear – a wolf ready to devour its prey. The sirens are still loud in your mind, but the only strength left in you was the one keeping you standing. Sweat runs down your temple, and by the minute you feel your skin become feverish; so hot it could dry the dampness of your clothes. 

“A witch threw me through a portal.”

Unexpectedly, Strange chuckles, “Charming.” 

Oh. How easy it was to picture your Stephen in front of you. The color of his eyes was still the same, even when the wrinkles around them were deeper – more prominent against the purple undertone of his under eyes – making him look older than he supposedly is. His laugh sounded the same, though a little rough at the seams. Even his lips were–

“Were you happy, in your reality?”

The question almost goes unnoticed when watching this other version of Stephen Strange – as you keep having to remember yourself – portray the exact image of corruption. The sparkle in his eyes has a twist in it; the light had long ago been swapped by the darkness running in his veins. Even his skin emitted a strange sort of coldness…

You blink once, then twice. The fever must be slowing your responses because you had never let your guard down like this. Strange is now standing in front of you, so close you can feel his powerful aura wrapping its icy fingers around yours, consuming the last sparkle of light from the magic within you. 

And yet, when he moves his hand towards your face, you let him. 

“I suppose,” You softly whisper as if spoken any loud the spell of the moment would break.

Your eyes meet again, and electricity runs through you, awakening something anew. Strange has an odd look on his face, twitching his eyebrow just slightly. It would’ve gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention to every tiny detail of his face – if you didn’t know him as much as you did. 

However, at the last second, when the coldness of his finger is close to refreshing the boiling heat of your skin, he pulls away.

“That’s not an answer,” Strange steps back, retreating his hand to his back, adjusting his shoulders in that same imposing manner as the first time you saw him. 

“Apparently, you weren’t,” Out of nowhere, a sense of boldness takes over. You snicker at the man while motioning at him with your free hand, “A wild guess if I may add.”

And again, the fear creeping into your mind comes back with the tilt of his head. The way Strange’s eyes close slightly, followed by the sound of his hands closing in a fist. The lights around you seem to flicker even though there were no lights to be turned off. 

This shows how easy it is to make this Strange angry. How you’ve been walking in a thin line ever since stepping into this place, at any moment a single blow could make you drop from the high you’ve been holding yourself so tightly.

The moment goes away just as quickly as it came, and you finally release the breath you’ve been holding the entire time, feeling your heart beating fast against your chest in trepidation. The man touches something in his belt, but you can’t see what it is.

“You are correct,” Strange says, voice rough, laced with sorrow, “But I never meant for this to happen. A guilty I’ll live with until this place is gone and forgotten.”

As the man speaks his words, apprehension forms in the pit of your stomach. A very similar image flashes through your eyes, a memory you wanted to forget as soon as it made its way home into your mind. A sadness that never went away; the grief that kept corroding Strange on the inside.

“And does this happiness have a name?” Your voice trembles, and the misery you’ve been cultivating for so many years, now drips through your words as the truth is handed to you on a silver plate.

“it does.” 

It’s hard to breathe when you fall. As the clouds pass you by and gravity pulls you to the ground. You’ve always meant to meet the rocks instead of his hands. To always look at his back, never his face. The chest you kept all the warning signs burst open, and each of them comes with a knife, stabbing your bleeding heart. 

“You destroyed a reality because of Christine?” It comes almost as a whisper, it’s hard to put into words the question, your throat burns with the tears begging to be shed. 

“Not only one,” Strange doesn’t look in your direction, sparing you his pit that inevitably comes with rejection, ”But multiples.”

The final blow lands its hit.

Everything was spinning. Everything hurts.

There was no point in staying here, you needed to go. You couldn’t stay here, a place that was living proof to what extent Strange would go to have his true love back; a confirmation that no matter how much you tried, his heart was never meant to be yours.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair!

The rage and bitterness flowing through your veins are the sole reason why you manage to gather the willpower to walk away. Blood runs through your fingers, creating a red path underneath your feet. But you don’t care, you would rather die than spare Strange another glance.

The man follows right behind you, holding your arm to stop you from reaching the stairs.

“Y/N–”

“You selfish, narcissistic, bastard!” You scream, trying to pull your arm away from him. It’s agonizing, the pain inflicted into your old wounds, open yet again with a cut so ugly it will definitely infect. “I hate you…so much.”

The last shred of strength leaves your body as your legs give out, and everything fades to black.

tag list: @nancy-thompsons, @mischiefmanaged71, @romanvffa, @kiranishi, @mistalli, @suddenlyiwasalilacskyyy, @ghost-lantern, @sherlux, @keepingitlokiii, @lovecleastrange, @childishmonster05, @praetorrara, @goldencherriess, @teenagemuffinlampcalzone, @mischiefmanaged71, @mavsketch, @gabba-gool-cool, @fire-treasure-iii, @guyfieriii, @thegardenerofeden

#doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #multiverse of madness #sometimes i write #fanfic #sinister strange #sinister strange x reader

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I was tagged by @sparrowmoth to share the first few lines of my last 10 fanfics. i dont post half of what I write so to save my sanity from boosting exclusively the relatively old stuff on my ao3 account im just going to include WIPs in progress

Hummingbird Heartbeat

WHAT REMAINS OF CENTRAL CITY, A REACH LABOR CAMP, SPRING 2056 “Did you get it?” Nathaniel frets, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Yeah,” Bart replies, pulling the aforementioned piece of tech from it’s hiding spot tucked into his shoe. It’s small, so it fit against his skinny ankle— long and thin and light.

Warchild (HH's sequel)

GATEWAY CITY, OCTOBER 3RD, 2001, 10 AM He’s looking at her, Helena can tell. She can feel it on the back of her neck. His gaze is heavy, and it almost— burns. When she turns to look back at him, his eyes are scarlet.

Blueberry Bruises

She feels the explosion. Of course she feels the explosion; everyone does. The ground had been wracked with tremors for a good half an hour, but that shaking was paltry compared to the devastating, cacophonous shaking caused by the explosion. She felt it in her teeth, in her bones, in her eyes, and most of all, in her magic. 

Strawberry Split Lip

There is not, actually, zero contact between the Isle of the Lost and the United Kingdoms of Auradon. Both sides may act like there is— the put-upon ignorance of the royals, the cursory sneers of the villains— but the Isle and Auradon are linked; you can’t have one without the other.

From a doc only titled 'SHAME'

Ruggie scratches the pen against notebook paper, filling out a packet of calculations for his Magical Runes class. It’s due in about— he checks his phone—five hours. The test, too, is in about five hours. And Ruggie doesn’t intend to get any sleep between now and then; he gets all his best test scores after an all-nighter spent cramming. 

Diasomnia Fairytale

The boy, Lilia comes to understand, is human. He had seemed unreal, when he found him; not so much a human as something out of a faded, and yet glittering dream. Tiny eyes squeezed shut, pale cheeks and small hands clenched into equally small fists. Pale skin like metallic ichor with hair as light as spun spider-silk.

From a doc that's a pun on the ship name "Ikesoren" and the word "eyesore"

Ike watches as his blood stains the bathwater pink. It sloughs from his skin where the water kisses his sides, lapping gently. The cuts sting, but he can’t bring himself to mind.

A fic I am writing at an irl friend's behest due to his utter glee at my ability to mimic bad ao3 smut

Alhaitham pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs harshly through his mouth, and watches as Kaveh explodes through their front door and into their home. He slams the door behind him with a violence; it rattles in its hinges.

Ruggie Bucchi's Unwitting Foray into Rest and Relaxation

“You work too hard,” Leona’d said, as if he wasn’t lounging, half-dressed, on his unmade, king-sized bed. “It exhausts me just watching you. You should take some time off.”

Prince Kingscholar's Unwitting Foray into Community Outreach

Leona Kingscholar’s life gets significantly weirder after he finally graduates Night Raven College at the ripe age of twenty-two. Well— it doesn’t get weird at first. At first it gets, in retrospect, extremely boring.

i tag uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh myself from the mirror dimension