#I wonder how many will actually turn out....

[heart2sea]

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ do you see (him) in the back of your mind? (read on ao3)

word count: 2k

tags: fluff, angst if you squint, mentions of his myth, dragon!sylus mentions

summary: on a particular day, you kept dreaming of him. One of those dreams catches your attention—horns, tails and all, and you decide to tell him.

a/n: some practice sylus writing because he's my second fav 🖤

You kept staring at him unabashedly, entranced.

He found that behavior amusing, finding and matching your gaze with an insufferable amount of mirth in his eyes. A teasing remark, a half grin on his lips—anything to get a blush out of you. That time, however, his words turned to mist on your brain as you took him in. You knew him well; the way his eyes glimmered under the moonlight, how his lips savoured every drop of his drink, as if trying to classify each note of flavor of it, and even the way his hair moved with the cold breeze. Sometimes you’d run a gentle finger, making way through the handsome shape of his nose, only stopping when he’d let out a scoff and grab your wrist, playfully.

“What are you doing, sweetie?” He stared back, a smirk gracing his sharp features.

You blinked, resting your head on your hand. You had agreed to have dinner (breakfast, for him) on his base before heading out for one of your assignments. This particular mission required pulling an all-nighter onto the outskirts of the N109 Zone. You didn’t particularly need to convince him, he just shrugged and nodded as if you’d asked him to go get something for you at the corner store, a small, non-inconvenient errand on his criminal routine. 

So you spent the entire daylight sleeping, trying to catch up on some required rest before going into battle. Sleeping during daytime usually meant naps, which is why you had a hard time staying asleep, waking up between forty minute intervals.

Each time, a stranger dream.

It had started with a regular one, just you and Sylus going auctioning. Then, fleeting dreams that resembled your first meetings, the oppressive force of the gunshot piercing his heart, his rough hand grasping your wrist like his life depended on it, forceful mannerisms that had quite actually scared you away from him, enticing you into running away and never looking back. 

And finally, a dream so foreign and out of place it took you a minute to break the barrier between dreams and reality upon waking up. How imposing, how impossibly handsome; your Sylus, tall and intimidating, sporting two wonderful spires on his head, and a long, thick, slithering barbed tail from his lower back. Scales had adorned his entire body, ebony and rough, and a single ruby emanated glow and warmth from his sternum, at the rhythm of a living heartbeat. His face was covered in blood—not yours, not his—as he stared at the glowing moon in longing and awe.

And still, in this dream, his eyes turned soft at the sight of you.

You gave him a warm smile, now back to reality to the real Sylus in front of you. “I dreamed about you earlier.”

He returned the smile, a glint of something playful and kind in his crimson eyes. “Was it a good dream?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, pondering. “It was quite the sight.”

“Tell me.”

“You’d laugh.”

He shifted on his seat, putting the fork down as he took a breath. Sylus tilted his head, the smile never wiping off his face, the now dying candlelight casting a warm, soft glow around you. “Oh?” 

You immediately shook your head, a slight blush adorning your cheeks, frowning. “Not like that. Ugh.” At least not this time.

The gentle sound of one of his classical vinyls cocooned the warm atmosphere of his dinner table, the melody one you had picked out a few weeks before, shopping with him. It was so effortlessly romantic, soft and tender—truth be told, so many dinners with Sylus were like that, and you started wondering how truly effortless or accidental it all was. It seemed so specifically tailored for you; the music, the special serving of food just for you, the way the moonlight would hit the table just right, the smooth silk tablecloths, the comfy cushions on the seats; it all screamed soft, soft, soft , as if he was self conscious you'd walk away again the moment you cut yourself on his edges. You'd grown to love him, gunshot powder and all, but something laid unspoken between you two. Something both of you should be aware of, but only him seemed to carry the weight of.

It stumped you.

Sylus let out a chuckle. “Well, then. I promise to be as straight faced as possible, kitten.”

“Not very comforting.”

He shrugged. “I'm simply doing my best.”

You inhaled, trying to recall more details about the dream. You grabbed a grape, placing it on your lips, letting it linger there for a moment before slowly biting down on it, staring into space. As you swallowed, you looked up briefly at the ceiling and finally spoke.

“ If you randomly woke up as an animal, real or fantastic—and don't say a crow—what animal do you think it would most likely be?”

One of his eyebrows raised in amusement, his smirk deepening. The candle was holding onto the last thread of light, the amber light surrounding the room slowly giving out. It gave the atmosphere an enigmatic mood, making the situation seem so serious it was silly. “Does that have to do with your dream?"

You rolled your eyes. “Just follow along.”

His gaze never left yours, carefully studying your expectant expression. He took out a casino chip out of his slacks and started playing with it, a fidgeting you immediately recognized as calculating and weighting every option on his mind, you realized he was holding back on answering what was truly on his head. 

You looked around the room, almost awkwardly, as the silence stretched on. “Hello?”

Sylus finally let out a scoff. “I'm more interested in what you thi—”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“What? I'm telling the truth. Besides,” he leaned towards you ever-so-slightly. “I'm curious what brought this on.”

The candlelight went off completely, the only source of light being the moon gently cascading its glow on the room. You went to grab another grape, but stopped halfway through. Despite his aloof and seemingly playful behavior, you couldn't help but feel as if that question had held some unspoken weight on him. 

You laid back completely on the chair, staring out at the moon. “I had a dream you were some kind of creature. Horns, tail, scales—no wings that I remember, though. It was incredibly detailed. You looked like a dragon.” You took a deep breath, and almost whispering, still daydreaming about the mental image, you spoke: “It suit you.”

He didn't reply, not immediately, the chip on his hand ceasing its movements for a moment. A brief hesitation, a glimmer of something in his eyes (melancholy? Nostalgia?) flashed, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a half smile. He put the chip down and slid it towards you, taking a deep breath, beckoning you to keep going.

“We rested in a cave. Just like now, we were staring at the moon, and your tail—” You giggled fondly. “It was wrapped around me. Not asphyxiating me, mind you, but gently. And warm. It felt so real.”

You paused, and then continued.

“I wonder if that was some sort of…past life, or something.”

The room was completely darkened, and he had moved away from the glow of the moonlight, making it difficult to figure out what he was thinking. As the silence stretched on, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious — you'd half expected him to let out one of his earthy laughs upon hearing it. How cliché, how passè, the classical bedtime story of the beauty and her beast, deeply in love in his lair, a wonderful ever after following trials of blood and fire to be together. You've been watching too many romantic movies lately, sweetie , was the reply you expected him to blurt out, and then you'd pout, and finally go out to your mission and fight wanderers until the sun rose.

But he seemed to savor the recounting of your dream, as if taking apart thread by thread the tapestry of your words. You wondered what expression he had at that moment. Maybe he was coming out with a witty retort, something you've never heard before, or maybe he was annoyed at the prospect of him being a beast in the dream (when he'd been nothing but gentle with you lately), or maybe—

He let out a gentle chuckle, forcing you out of your thoughts. You stared at him, trying to find his eyes, until you met with a slightly glowing crimson gaze in the dark. A sign of danger, a pair of red eyes in the abyss—but they held none of the teeth that would swallow you whole. Instead, it enveloped you in a warmth that reminded you of cozy winter dawns, of summer nights, of a hot cup of tea after a draining day. 

How wonderful.

Sylus shifted on his seat. “Did something else happen in that dream?”

“Such as…?”

“We’ve watched one too many dramatic movies lately. Surely this one dream doesn't end in tragedy, likewise?”

You tutted, blushing, muttering. “Isn't the prospect of us cuddling under the moonlight enough for you?”

“With a monster —”

“A very handsome one.” You interjected. “And he is nothing but gentle with me.”

A pause of silence. Then, after staring deep into your eyes, as if attempting to break open your mind and peer into your jumbled thoughts, he let out a warm, almost elated laugh. 

“You do…have a fascinating way to look at things.” He spoke.

As if wanting to emphasize your earlier point, you stood up from the table and carefully walked towards him, two dinner knives in hand, and positioned yourself behind him. On the other side of the room, a body length mirror stood guard to the dark outlines of your bodies contrasting in the gentle glow of the moon.

The knives reflected the silvery light almost magically as you held them up the sides of his head in a horned fashion, a playful yet tender smile adorning your lips.

“You looked something like this.” You whispered, staring into the mirror. If you squinted hard enough, his silhouette looked very similar to the Sylus that had graced your dreams. “See? It looks good. It does suit you.”

He chuckled, his voice laced with something raw and unspoken. He gently grabbed your wrist, enveloping his calloused fingers around your soft flesh, as if counting every pulse under it. His digits interlaced with yours and he maneuvered you until you were at his side—then, he slid an arm around your waist and pressed you closer to him, his face burying on your sternum, something resembling a purr coming out of his throat. It made you freeze for a single second, the movement and the warmth so eerily similar to the one provided by his tail in your dream you wondered if you'd truly been the only one to dream about it.

“No tail. Is that alright?” He muttered, his voice muffled by your shirt. 

You shrugged. “Warm all the same.”

Something inside him opened at the sound of your words, and he let out a content, satisfied sigh. You could feel him smile against the fabric of your clothes, and under normal circumstances you'd tease him about it. Yet this time, he felt oddly vulnerable—like a cat bunting a beloved; it was not the time. You couldn't rob him of that.

“Let's go.” He broke the moment, pulling away. “It's getting late.”

He stood up, his arm leaving your waist—lingering for a fraction of a second, not truly wanting to pull away—and walked to the doorway with languid steps, taking his coat from the hanger.

“Does that mean I can call you that now?” You asked grabbing a last grape out of the fruitbowl.

“What was that now, kitten?”

“Dragon.” You smiled mischievously. “My dragon.”

He turned around, briefly speechless, and for a moment you feared you'd said something wrong—maybe he hated the nickname, or thought it was too silly, or preferred something else. But then his lips curved upwards, his gaze impossibly soft and cozy.

“If it's from you,” he reached for the motorcycle helmet and tossed it at you. “Any time.”

[themilfsland]

Under the forbidden tree - Part I

Pairing(s): religious!mommy Wanda X female!reader

Words count: ~ 10k

Summary: A break from your studies and work. A program dedicated to foster children you decided to join. A weekend of faith, charity, and innocence under the watchful eye of the Westview church. But beneath the prayers and borrowed smiles, something unholy stirs.

- "...but have you ever sinned in God’s house?”

- "What’s wrong, Y/N? Kneel." - She repeated, this time with a slightly softer tone."

tags | content: Wanda being a little psycho, innocence/corruption, a lot of teasing, jealous, manipulation, possessiveness, improper use of religion itens, praying for grace.

A/N: My initial plan was to create an one-shot, but it ended up being too long, so I decided to split it into two parts. Honestly, I’m still not sure if that was the better choice, but anyway. Enjoy :)

menu fic | Part II (coming soon)

You were running late, but not as much as the ride your friend, Yelena, had promised you.

As you packed the last pieces of clothing you had laid out on the bed — "toothbrush, comfortable sneakers, sunscreen, hairbrush, cap, towel... vibrator?!" — your mental checklist came to an abrupt halt when your eyes landed on the object placed inside one of the suitcase compartments. "Do I need to bring this?" - you wondered, a pang of guilt creeping into your conscience. Bringing your toy to a church retreat might not be the wisest decision — actually, it was a terrible one. The possibility of boredom wasn’t a valid excuse, nor was the fact that finding a moment of privacy in your friend's apartment was nearly impossible.

Your thoughts drifted beyond the present — this week marked two months since you had temporarily moved into your childhood friend’s apartment. You could call it luck or mere coincidence, but either way, it had been a huge help.

A few months ago, you received an offer to work and study temporarily at a psychiatric hospital unit in Westview. At first, you considered turning it down — far from home, a small town that felt more like a village, completely different from your life, nothing particularly appealing. However, after an honest conversation with your favourite college professor, your perspective shifted. Finding out the significant research advancements happening there reignited your interest.

But, of course, there was still one major issue — where would you stay during that period? Money was tight, and there weren’t many good housing options in Westview. That’s when Yelena practically "fell from the sky" — or rather, her girlfriend, Kate, did, stepping in to help with everything you were missing — they were your saviour.

Two weeks after accepting the offer, you stood in front of Kate’s apartment with your small collection of belongings. In a quick rundown, Yelena had explained that she met Kate at an exhibition of ancient artefacts —more specifically, weapons and combat objects. Well, none of that surprised you. In fact, you made a mental note, wondering how it was even possible for more people to share Yelena’s questionable and somewhat violent interests. Either way, things moved quickly after that, and now Kate was working in a neighbouring city to Westview. Yes, even though you had to travel a few extra miles to the hospital where you’d be working and studying for the next few months, this was still the best option, and you were incredibly grateful for it. Oh, and of course, the small yet not-so-insignificant detail — less than a month after Kate settled into her apartment, Yelena invited herself to move in. Classic.

A knock on your bedroom door pulled you back to the present. The door suddenly swung open, followed by Yelena shouting, - “I’m home! Are you still not ready? Let’s go!”

You jumped in surprise and quickly shut your suitcase. Any hesitation you previously had about the vibrator was gone. It was coming with you, whether because you no longer had the chance to take it out or simply because privacy in this apartment is definitely not an option. Maybe, in a quiet place, free from interruptions, you’d finally get to enjoy a moment to yourself.

----

On the way to Westview, Yelena convinced you to make a quick stop at a Café. After all, a little caffeine would be welcome before hitting the road.

- "Are you sure about this, Y/N?" - Yelena asked, her expression filled with doubt.

- "You mean doing a little charity work by volunteering for the kids at the orphanage?" - you replied with a question of your own.

- "Yes... I mean, not exactly about helping out, but you know, this is a project run by the Westview church community..." - her voice trailed off as if she wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

- "I know, I get what you're trying to say." - You let out a small laugh. - "Honestly, I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of spending the next few days at a church ‘club.’ Religion really isn’t my thing..."

Yelena was trying her best to not look judgmental, but she was failing miserably.

- "Look, it’s not going to be the best place or the best people, but I’m doing this for the kids. Giving them a weekend of fun, games, and a chance to breathe some fresh air outside of the orphanage. It’s worth it." - you continued.

Yelena stared at you while taking another sip of her coffee, carefully choosing her next words.

- "Okay, I’m still not completely convinced by that excuse." - You raised an eyebrow, waiting for a better response. - "But since you’ve decided, I should warn you that where you're going is far from being a ‘club.’ Kate and I went there once. Honestly, the place looks like the perfect setting for a period horror film. There's only a chapel and three large wooden buildings."

You were about to argue, but she cut you off.

- "No, don’t defend the place before you’ve even seen it. You’ll agree with me later. Oh, and before you ask what Kate and I were doing there — the only, and I mean only, good part is the huge, beautiful lake. Great for swimming or just relaxing."

You let out a long sigh and nodded, choosing to avoid a pointless argument.

- "Maybe the truth is... I just need a short break," - you admitted in a low voice, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself.

You could hear Yelena’s voice in the background — she was probably giving you a lecture about neglecting self-care and not recognizing your limits. But her words barely registered. Your mind was elsewhere, your thoughts louder than her voice, dragging you back to the exhausting days at the hospital.

--

- "Y/N adapted so quickly here, didn’t she, Darcy?" -Jimmy asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

- "Yeah! A little too quickly, actually. But she got lucky that we don’t currently have any patients going into the ‘dark book,’" - Darcy replied, giving you a playful wink.

The three of you were in the hospital’s break room, taking a short rest and having what might be lunch or maybe even dinner — with shifts so chaotic and schedules a mess from the overwhelming workload, this was probably your biggest meal of the day — a combo of lunch and dinner.

- "'Dark book'? What’s that?" - You asked, puzzled.

Jimmy shot Darcy a disapproving look as if she had just brought up a forbidden topic. Then, turning back to you, he answered in a tone that was far too cold. - "It’s nothing big, Y/N. Just reports on patients with more complex cases. In these instances, to protect their future, all records are archived under strict confidentiality. Once they’re discharged, it’s as if their past is erased — so there’s no public speculation and they can reintegrate into society more easily."

The idea intrigued you. What kind of cases could be so dark that they needed to be kept secret, their pasts wiped clean?

- "That sounds interesting, but I have my doubts about you two keeping secrets. I can practically read it on your faces that you know more than you're letting on."

Darcy let out a loud laugh before responding. - "Of course we do… and yet, we don’t." - She chuckled again. - "But honestly, we respect that confidentiality rule. I think it’s fair."

You weren’t satisfied with that vague answer, and your curiosity got the best of you. - "Oh, come on, guys! It won’t hurt anyone if you share just a little of what you know. Besides, I’ll be gone in a few months anyway." - You gave them your best pleading puppy-dog eyes.

Jimmy chuckled before finally speaking. - "Look, Y/N, you can dig around in our library all you want, but you won’t find anything with real details. Even we, after years here, barely have any real information."

Darcy nodded in agreement and added, - "He’s not lying, Y/N. We don’t even know the patients’ names. All we ever get are bits and pieces of stories that float around the hallways."

You kept staring, silently pushing for more, until she finally gave in. - "Jimmy, do you remember that guy who used to pull pranks on other patients? Even on Dr Strange? He was absolute chaos."

Jimmy refused to say a word, just shooting her another disapproving look.

- "Oh, come on, Jimmy. Everyone here knows at least one story about that guy, don’t give me that judgmental silence." - She smirked before continuing. - "But fine, I know you were way more interested in that other guy… the one who almost turned green when he got angry."

Jimmy scoffed. - "Now that’s a low blow. Of course, that case was more interesting, but don’t even try to change the subject. Your real obsession was that crazy patient who kept rambling nonsense and scribbling in that little red notebook… the one with those three initials on the cover."

You and Darcy were about to press him for more when Dr. Strange walked into the room. - "I believe the break is over. Time to get back to the studies."

--

- "Y/N? Are you listening to me?" - Yelena said, shaking your arm. - “Y/N!! Earth to you, hello??”

You were snapped back to reality by the pinch she gave you.

- “OUCH, YELENA! I’m here, and that hurts!!” - you grumbled, rubbing the spot where she had pinched you.

- “Yeah, yeah, I can see that you're here, physically, at least. But your mind? Oh, it went far, far away from here,” - she retorted with a disappointed tone. - “Anyway, you do seem like you need a break. Maybe your crazy idea isn’t so bad after all.”

She continued speaking as she grabbed her bag from the chair.

- “Speaking of enjoyment, I got you a little present.” - A mischievous smirk appeared on her face as she pointed to a small wrapped box in front of you. - “BUT — you can only open it once you get there. You have to promise me.” - She winked at you as she handed over the gift.

Still unsure, you took the package and shot her a suspicious look. - “This is so unlike you… but okay, I’ll accept this rare expression of affection.”

Her mouth fell open in mock offence at your comment — though she was well aware that acts like this weren’t exactly her style.

Well, you’d understand soon enough once you saw what was inside the box.

----

No matter how many times you drove down the road to Westview, you never grew tired of the natural beauty surrounding you — the towering trees lining the way, the fresh breeze streaming through the open window of the car, if you were lucky, you could even hear the birds singing as they soared through the sky.

As expected, the location was just beyond the entrance to town, requiring a small detour off the main road. A wave of anticipation and gratitude washed over you. You were excited about all the opportunities the universe was laying before you— and, of course, grateful that your friend was here to support you. After all, she was doing you a huge favour by giving you a ride. The designated arrival day for volunteers and children was technically set for tomorrow, Saturday. However, Yelena and Kate had already arranged a small camping excursion for the weekend. Not wanting to interfere with their plans, you reached out to the project administration to inquire about the possibility of arriving a day in advance. Fortunately, they responded quickly, assuring you that it wasn’t a problem — on the contrary, it was common for some team members to arrive early to help with preparations.

Once again, your mind wandered, and before you even noticed, Yelena was already steering into the front garden and parking the car.

- "Alright, are you ready to spend your next few days praying and dying of boredom?" - Yelena teased, her voice dripping with irony.

You let out a laugh. - "Girl, you are sooo dramatic! It won’t be that bad. I have high hopes it’ll be fun, and time will fly by. Just don’t forget to pick me up." - You tried to sound confident, though deep down, you had your own doubts about how interesting this place would be.

Yelena stifled a mocking chuckle, gripping the door handle. She turned her head toward you and stated, - "Good luck, then, Y/N. But seriously, don’t fool yourself into thinking this place is all rainbows and sunshine. When you’re sitting in that chapel praying…" - she pointed outside toward the small building, "… you’ll remember me and what I’m telling you now. There are a lot of weird people around here, so don’t be too easily convinced by good manners."

Without giving you a chance to argue, she swung open the car door.

You shared a brief embrace and a farewell kiss on the cheek. With a final wave, you watched the car fade into the distance.

Drawing in a deep breath, you turned toward the small gathering nearby and began making your way toward them. As you neared, a woman in the group noticed you and greeted you with enthusiasm.

- "Hello! Good afternoon! Welcome!"

The surrounding chatter ceased as the others turned their attention to you.

- "You must be Y/N, right? I’m Monica," - she said, extending her hand to greet you. You shook her hand in return, slightly surprised at her accurate guess.

- "Yes, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you! But… um, how did you know my name?" - you asked, suddenly aware that all eyes were on you.

- "I was the one who replied to your email about arriving a day early," - she said with a warm smile. - "I was just talking about you! We don’t get new volunteers here very often, so we’re happy to have you."

She glanced at the others and began introducing them from right to left.

- "This is Clint, Scott, Agatha, and Wanda."

They all welcomed you with warm smiles. A slight unease tingled up your spine — being in the spotlight had never been your comfort zone. Clint seemed to notice your nervousness and spoke up.

- "Hey, don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll guide you through the activity schedule. Today will be pretty relaxed — we’re just preparing the welcome for tomorrow and taking care of some last-minute details."

You nodded and muttered a "thank you."

It was also evident that holding onto your luggage was wearing you out, so Monica swiftly added, - "Alright, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know Y/N over the next few days, but for now, I think it would be best to show her around. Wanda, would you mind?"

Without hesitation, Wanda stepped forward and gently took your suitcase from your hands. - "It would be my pleasure! There’s so much to do here — you’re going to love it. But first, let’s drop off your things in your room so they don’t get in the way during our little tour."

She flashed a warm smile, gesturing for you to follow, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the vivid green of her eyes.

----

The place itself didn’t have much in terms of infrastructure, just as Yelena had warned you. There was the chapel, a large house that served as the dining hall and the main space for meetings and activities, and two additional buildings that housed the dormitories.

Fortunately, since you had arrived early, Wanda informed you that you could choose between a shared or private room. That was an easy decision—a private room, without a doubt.

Wanda followed up with something you weren’t expecting.

- "Alright, a private room for the young lady. But you should know, Y/N, that nothing can be hidden around here."

You stared at her, speechless and confused about the meaning behind her words, until she continued.

- "I’m talking about the bathroom, darling. The restrooms here are communal, but don’t worry — there’s hot water and plenty of stalls for everyone in the building."

That was… disappointing. Not the worst thing in the world, but you had always valued your privacy— especially in a place full of strangers. At least you had managed to secure a private room, you thought.

--

- "And here we are, finally, at the most beautiful part of the refuge — the lake!" - Wanda said excitedly, taking your hand and leading you closer to the shore. - "The sunset view from here is just breathtaking… We’ll have plenty of activities with the kids around this area. I’m sure you’re going to love it."

You were absorbed in the view when you suddenly realized — she was still holding your hand. A warmth spread through your body, catching you off guard. You weren’t used to physical contact, especially not with people you had just met. And yet, when Wanda gently squeezed your hand to get your attention, pointing toward a flock of birds soaring on the other side of the lake, you felt something… different.

Your palm began to sweat from nervousness. In an attempt to check if she had noticed, you turned to look at her — only to find her gaze locked onto yours. It was as if she was trying to read your mind. Strangely, it was both unsettling and comforting at the same time. She radiated kindness, an almost motherly aura. Yet deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she had the power to destroy you if she chose to.

A wave of anxiety started creeping in, and to break the tension, your eyes mistakenly drifted to her lips. That only made things worse. A rush of heat spread across your skin, and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn. Acting purely on instinct, desperate to avoid an impending disaster, you abruptly pulled your hand away and turned to the side, pointing at some nearby trees.

- "This place is so green… so many trees, so many flowers. It’s really beautiful, Wanda," - you said quickly, starting to walk toward what you had just pointed at. - "Are those… fruits hanging from the branches?"

Wanda followed your awkward retreat, staying close. Too close.

Your face was burning, and you cursed yourself internally. Why do I always react like this around women? It was so embarrassing. This was exactly why you could never successfully start a relationship. It was ridiculous — being a lesbian but completely incapable of holding a normal conversation with a beautiful woman.

Before you could spiral deeper into your self-inflicted humiliation, Wanda’s voice cut through your thoughts.

- "Yes! Most of these trees are fruit-bearing. We have peach, orange, pear, plum… and my personal favourite—apples."

Coincidentally, the tree closest to you had a few ripe apples hanging from its branches. You stopped walking, determined to keep your eyes on the fruit rather than on Wanda.

Your plan failed miserably.

Before you notice it, she was standing right in front of you — too close again. Close enough that you could catch the faint yet intoxicating scent of her perfume.

Your gaze remained fixed on the apples above, but your real struggle was maintaining steady breathing. And, of course, you failed at that too.

- "Are you okay, Y/N?" - Wanda asked with a concerned expression, taking a small step closer. - "Your face looks a little flushed, and—"

- "I-I’m fine, Wanda," - you interrupted, quickly stepping back. - "It’s just… hot, I mean, because of the sun." - You fought to keep your voice steady, but it was a losing battle.

- "Oh, darling," - she said with a pity tone. - "Maybe you didn’t put on enough sunscreen. Your face is looking a little red."

Before you could react, she reached up and gently brushed her fingers against your cheek.

You froze.

Your thoughts raced so fast that they made no sense at all. A simple touch. A meaningless gesture. Why did it make you shiver? Why are you like this?

Just as you were about to combust from sheer overthinking, an apple from the tree behind you fell to the ground with a soft thud.

You let out a startled breath — partly from the sudden noise, mostly from relief.

The shift in focus was instant. Wanda let go of your face and looked down.

- "Oh, we’ve been blessed, Y/N! Look at what we have here," - she said, crouching down to pick up the apple, rubbing it against the fabric of her blouse. Then, she held it up to your lips.

- "Here, sweetheart. Take a bite."

Her eyes flickered from yours to your lips.

You didn’t move. You just… stared at her.

- "Y/N," she repeated, this time in a firmer tone. - "I said, take a bite."

A tremor coursed through your spine. There was something about the way she spoke — the quiet dominance in her voice. Instinctively, you followed, taking a small bite.

- "Well done, dear. That was so easy," - she said with a sly smile.

- "Huh? Easy?" - you repeated, swallowing the piece of fruit.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted her thumb to the corner of your lips, brushing it softly as if wiping away a nonexistent trace of apple. - There was nothing there. Right? - Before you could even think to protest, she silenced you with a quiet "Shhh."

She took a bite from the same apple.

- "Mmm… absolutely delicious. Almost as sweet as you are," she murmured with a smirk, then winked at you.

Your brain shuts down.

- "Anyway, it’s getting late, and we still have things to do. Let’s go, dear," - she said, taking your hand — again. - "I have some important work for your hands."

- "W-What??" - you blurted out in disbelief.

These double meanings — was she doing this on purpose, or was your pathetic interpretation playing tricks on you?

Wanda didn’t respond. She merely pulled you along, guiding you toward the buildings without a word of explanation.

----

It was obvious that you would use your hands to make welcome signs — what else would you even use them for? — As you cut and painted the papers, you found yourself caught in an internal debate. There was no reason for you to have ambiguous thoughts about Wanda. You reassured yourself that she was simply being kind, making sure you felt comfortable around here. She was polite and respectful, and it was evident in everything she did.

As you both worked on the signs, she struck up a light conversation — never prying, never overstepping, but also not allowing an awkward silence to settle between you. When you casually mentioned that you didn’t have much knowledge of religion because it had never been a significant part of your life, she simply smiled warmly, respecting your choices.

She took the opportunity to talk about the upcoming services. For the children, there would be interactive lessons designed to introduce them to biblical teachings. For the adults, there would be mass at night, just like in Westview. Before you could even comment on it, Wanda reassured you that you were under no obligation to attend it but were always welcome to share in the Lord’s grace.

What once felt unattainable was now unfolding—you were speaking to her with ease, without anxious stuttering or overthinking every word. Wanda was an incredible woman, captivating in every way, but above all, she was deeply devoted to her faith. She was present at every service, every activity — the very definition of a right woman.

The signs were finally done, and without wanting to brag, you felt quite proud of your artistic skills. What you weren’t so proud of, however, was the mess you had made in the process. Clumsy as ever, your hands and arms were stained with paint. Wanda noticed your chaotic state and grabbed a damp cloth to help you clean up. Unexpected yet expected. The more time you spent with her, the more you noticed her nurturing aura. It was oddly comforting.

She took your arm and gently wiped the fabric against your skin.

- “You made quite the mess here, huh, Y/N?” - she teased, meeting your eyes with a soft smile. You felt your face heat up, both from embarrassment and from the way her fingers moved over your skin.

- “I’m proud of your work, though,” she continued, her voice warm. - “They’re so colourful, so full of life. In the end, the mess was worth it, wasn’t it?”

You were almost certain she said that just to make you feel better, but either way, you couldn’t stop the small smile that formed at the thought of her being proud of you.

Wanda continued wiping away the last traces of paint. Her touch was soft and delicate, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the moment. The silence between you carried a strange paradox — both exhilarating and calming at the same time. To keep your mind from spiralling into dangerous territory, you let your curiosity take over. After all, you did want to know more about the woman in front of you. So with the smallest bit of confidence you could muster, you crossed a line you didn’t even know existed.

- “So, Wanda…” - You hesitated. - “You said you live in Westview. Are you married? Do you have children?”

The hand that had once been so gentle against your skin suddenly tightened around your wrist.

Your heart skipped a beat. The shift in her demeanour was instant, her features tensed and her breathing grew heavier. Regret flooded your chest, and you wished you could take the question back.

Seconds passed, though they felt like hours. Her grip didn’t loosen. You tried to pull your arm away, your voice barely above a whisper.

- “Wanda? I—I’m sorry if that was too personal. I didn’t mean to be intrusive.”

It was as if the more you tried to retreat, the harder she held on.

Then, finally, she spoke. - “Oh no, there’s no need to apologize.” - She let go of your wrist at last, and yet, you still felt the pressure of her fingers lingering on your skin.

- “Your question wasn’t inappropriate,” - she said, though something about the way she avoided your gaze made you doubt her words. - “It just caught me off guard.”

You unconsciously rubbed the spot where she had held you. The moment had been tense, and though you wanted to move on, you felt compelled to apologize again. Wanda let out a noticeable sigh. Wrong move. Before you could process what was happening, she took your chin between her fingers and tilted your head to the side.

- “I think there’s a little paint left on your neck,” - she murmured.

Before you could react, she wiped her bare fingers against your skin. - “Almost clean, darling,” - she continued. - “The paint dried, so it’s a little harder to get off.”

Her nails began to lightly scrape against your neck — not painfully, but enough to make your breath hitch. Your body froze again, your thoughts scattering in every direction, yet none of it seemed to add up. Such a small gesture, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. It was meaningless— just a touch, just a fleeting moment — so why did it feel like something more?

- "All done,” - she finally said, pulling back slightly. - “Oh dear, I might have been a little too rough. Your skin turned a bit red where I cleaned.”

Her voice was laced with mock sympathy, her eyes watching you intently before she leaned in. And then, without hesitation, she pressed a soft kiss against the spot on your neck.

- “Don’t worry, it’ll go back to normal soon,” - she murmured against your skin. She pulled away, her lips curling into a knowing smile. She didn’t wait for a reaction — not that you could have formed one if you tried. She simply changed the subject, as if nothing had just happened.

- “Well, that’s it. You’re officially free from your tasks with me.” - She winked and turned toward the door. - “I’d love to see you at mass tonight, Y/N. If you feel comfortable, of course.” - And then, just like that, she was gone.

----

After finishing your afternoon activities, you took one last walk through the garden, hoping the fresh air might help clear your thoughts. You had made a promise to yourself —all the interpretations you had about Wanda’s actions were just figments of your imagination. She was simply being kind, and that was it. You were the one at fault, the one creating feelings and fictionalizing reality. Plus, you even convinced yourself that she probably had a beautiful family but just didn’t feel comfortable sharing that with you.

Taking advantage of your free time, you returned to your room to organize your things and rest for a while. You even felt a spark of excitement as you remembered the gift Yelena had given you earlier. Tearing the wrapping open impatiently, you tried to guess what it could be. But the moment you saw what was inside, you immediately understood why Yelena had been so thrilled to give it to you. It was none other than a strap-on.

You stared at it in disbelief. Your friend was absolutely insane. Okay, sure — it was a good gift, you couldn’t deny that. Technically, you had no right to complain, considering that, during a drunken conversation some time ago, you had confessed your curiosity about trying one. But, honestly, first: it would be ideal to actually have someone to use it with. And second: of all the moments she could have chosen to give it to you, she had to pick now — while you were in a religious setting.

Anyway, it would be hypocritical to blame her, though, considering you had also brought something inappropriate into this environment. Still, you made a note: you weren’t going to let her get away with this when you saw her again. For now, to avoid any potential disaster, you hid your new toy deep in your suitcase, tucking it beneath layers of clothes.

----

You stood in front of the chapel door, hesitating, unsure whether to step inside.

- "Good evening. Are you not going in?"- A male voice sounded behind you, pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned around, startled.

- "I'm Peter… and you must be…?"

You extended your hand in greeting. - "Oh, sorry, I’m Y/N," you replied. - "Yeah, I was just about to go in, it's just—"

He cut you off before you could finish. - "You're the new volunteer! Nice to meet you." - He grinned. - "Don’t worry, the first time can be overwhelming. Come on, I’ll show you around."

Saying this might sound cliché, especially given the circumstances, but thank God Peter showed up to keep you company. Only now did it truly dawn on you that you were in a religious environment. The air inside the chapel felt heavy on your shoulders. Some people were wearing traditional garments, though - obviously, you had no idea what they were called. Others were arranging objects at the altar and most of them clutched bibles in their hands.

The service didn’t take long to begin, but it was enough time for you to get to know Peter a little. His situation was surprisingly similar to yours, he was a university student who was here simply to support the cause of the children. He wasn’t part of any religious community and had started participating in these volunteer activities because one of the partners at his internship happened to be the founder of an adoption center in his city.

Learning that there were others here who weren’t directly connected to the church was a relief. The pressure in your chest, that lingering sense of being out of place, softened just a bit. Besides, you were now intrigued to meet this partner Peter spoke so highly of — Mr. Stark.

--

Your eyelids drooped with boredom. The people around you were full of energy, reciting prayer after prayer, but to you, they were just meaningless words drifting through the air. Without thinking, your eyes kept wandering over the crowd, searching for Wanda. You were fairly sure she was seated near the front, beside the woman named Agatha. They seemed so immersed as if they truly belonged.

All of a sudden, the sound of drums and guitars filled the chapel. A group of people at the front stood and walked up to the altar. Among them was Wanda. Her gaze landed on you immediately. It was hypnotic. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t look away.

- "This is always the best part. The lyrics aren’t great, but at least the melody makes up for it!" - Peter whispered, nudging you with his elbow. - "At least it brings some energy to the room… and wakes up anyone who's about to fall asleep." - He chuckled.

You nudged him back, holding in a laugh to avoid drawing attention.

But Wanda noticed.

And when you looked at her again, her expression had changed. If she had been happy to see you here before, that feeling had now been replaced by something else entirely. Her eyes burned as they locked onto you — and your new colleague.

As soon as the choir finished their last song, Peter turned to you with a small smile. - "I have to go now. I promised to help with the kitchen duties for dinner," - he said, getting up.

You felt a pang of disappointment, both at losing his company and at the realization that the mass still wasn’t over. Turning your attention back to the altar, you watched as the singers from earlier now exchanged greetings with the priest. And there she was — Wanda.

From a distance, she looked so harmless. She conversed effortlessly with those around her, and everyone appeared to admire her. In a way, it felt odd watching her engage with others. She didn’t seem to be giving them those scrutinizing glances, nor did she speak in cryptic phrases designed to mislead or perhaps she behaved the same as always, and everything weighing on your mind was meaningless after all.

It didn’t take long for people to return to their seats. Some, like Peter, left the chapel, but Wanda— She didn’t go back to her place. She was walking toward you.

- "Is this seat taken?" - she asked, not waiting for an answer before sitting beside you. - "I'm really happy you came tonight. I hope it’s not too overwhelming for you, darling," she added, placing her Bible on her lap and opening it.

- "It’s been a good experience," - you admitted truthfully. - "Besides, I met Peter. He seems like a good person." - You weren’t sure why you brought him up, maybe just to fill the silence.

- "Oh, Peter. Yes, I know him," - she said, her tone suddenly firmer, colder.

Looking down, you noticed her fingers fidgeting with the rosary in her hand, gripping the cross a little too tightly. Her mood had shifted — again.

- "Uh… is the mass almost over?" - you asked, hoping to lighten the air.

- "Almost, dear. Almost," - she murmured, just as the priest began speaking again. She turned her head forward, focusing on the next prayer, but not before flashing you a small smile. You were exhausted, silently pleading for everything to end soon.

As the minutes ticked by, Wanda’s presence beside you awakened something unfamiliar. It was as if your body remained in a perpetual state of anticipation, craving something beyond reach, even though you knew your longing was forbidden. Dangerous. And then, almost as if she had read your restless mind — you felt it.

Her hand lay still on your exposed thigh, the cool beads of her rosary caught beneath her palm, pressing into your skin each time her grip tensed with every echoed “amen.” You silently cursed yourself for choosing shorts over jeans.

Unlike you, Wanda appeared entirely unbothered by the situation. She echoed the priest’s words with ease, her voice steady and sure. And with each proclamation of praise, her grip tightened just a little more, pressing the cold metal of the cross even deeper into your skin.

Then, at last, the priest spoke his final words.

Wanda turned to you again. - "I hope you have a blessed night…" - she whispered, leaning in. - "And one full of grace, Y/N. Good night." - her lips grazed your cheek in a whisper-soft kiss.

And just like that, she was gone.

You remained still, frozen in place, watching as she walked toward the others as if nothing had happened. What… was that? Was your mind playing tricks on you again? Regardless of what conclusion you might come to, one thing was undeniable — That kiss was way too close to your lips.

----

You woke up to the sound of the chapel bell ringing. You were exhausted. Pressing the palm of your hand against your eyes, you let out a low groan of frustration. Your treacherous mind dragged memories from the previous night to the surface — the chapel, a new friendship, the endless prayers, and her — Wanda. No matter how much you fought it, the memories kept replaying in your mind—her gaze fixed on you, her presence beside you on the bench, her hand on your thigh, the ghost of her lips on your cheek. Stop. You had to stop thinking about it. As if stealing your sleep wasn’t enough, you refused to let her linger in your thoughts all day too.

As you wished, things were going well. At breakfast, you ran into Peter, who instantly invited you to sit with him. He talked a lot, cracking jokes and sharing stories from college — a great distraction for your restless mind. After indulging a little too much in the delicious food, you both headed to the courtyard, where more volunteers and children began arriving. You finally met the famous Mr. Stark, whom Peter had raved about, and his lovely wife. The conversation was engaging, but duty soon called. Monica gave you instructions to take the children to the dining hall while others helped store their luggage in the respective accommodations. Everything was well-organized, and the people were incredibly helpful. While watching over the children, you even managed a quick chat with Scott, who was eager for you to meet his daughter.

The day was going wonderfully, and, without intending to be judgmental, there were moments when you almost forgot the place was tied to a religious organization. You met people from nearby towns who volunteered regularly for this cause, regardless of their beliefs. It was all about the children, and they were absolutely delightful. Laughter echoed through the air, some raced across the lawn, others tended to the garden, played ball, or explored the small farm area, where they could interact with animals and learn about them. The most rewarding part was witnessing their beaming smiles, their excitement unmistakable as they eagerly chose which activity group to join.

Speaking of which, you were assigned to oversee the lake activities. Initially, you were excited about your role, but upon realizing that "lake activities" meant swimming with the children, your enthusiasm waned. You hadn’t packed a swimsuit, after all, who would have guessed there’d be water activities at a church retreat? Never. Regardless, you worked with what you had, slipping into workout shorts, a sports top, and a lightweight shirt over it. That would do.

--

The evening bell rang, signalling the start of the night’s activities. You began calling the children out of the water and sending them over to Cassie, Scott’s daughter, who was handing out towels.

You were happy but utterly drained. You had to give your all to help your team win the water polo match against Peter, but it was worth every effort. Of course, you took the time to lift the losing team’s spirits, assuring the kids that they had played exceptionally well and placing the blame for the loss entirely on Peter. Maybe that was a little harsh because your convincing words successfully triggered an all-out water fight against him.

Well, karma always finds a way back. After all the children had left the lake and headed to the dorms, Cassie announced that only one towel remained. You and Peter locked eyes in a wordless challenge before sprinting for it. Unfortunately, he was faster, laughing mischievously as he grabbed the towel. - “Better luck next time, Y/N! I win. See you later!”

Great. A short walk to your room while soaking wet wasn’t the end of the world. Everything was fine, you told yourself — until you heard Agatha’s voice.

- "My God, Y/N! Where are you going, dripping wet like that?!" - she exclaimed, approaching you, her loud voice drawing attention including Wanda’s.

- "I’m just heading to my room to grab a towel," you murmured, not wanting to attract more stares. - "Don’t worry, just a few more steps and I’m there," you tried to sound cheerful.

- "Oh, poor little thing," - Agatha teased, giving you a mock pitying look before turning away. - "Wanda! Bring a towel, your little angel here looks like a lost, wet puppy."

A cold breeze hit your damp skin, making the temperature difference even more unbearable. Your body tensed as you saw Wanda approaching.

- "Y/N! Why are you walking around soaked like this? You’ll catch a cold, for God’s sake. Where’s your towel?" - she asked, concern evident in her voice. - "Here, let me help you," - she added, draping a towel over your shoulders, pulling you closer —too close.

- "It’s fine, Wanda. There was only one towel left, and Peter got to it first," - you admitted softly, feeling guilty for secretly enjoying her attention.

- "Peter, huh? I’ve noticed you two are getting along, maybe a little too well," - she remarked, her hand tightening on your arm over the towel. Her grip was firm. - "I hope you had fun." - You couldn’t quite decipher if her tone was sincere or laced with something else.

Your mind replayed moments from earlier. You had done your best to keep thoughts of Wanda at bay, and, for the most part, you had succeeded. The distractions of games and the children’s company helped lighten things, as long as you didn’t glance in her direction. Every time your gaze drifted toward the field where the children played, Wanda was there, watching you. At first, you brushed it off as a mere coincidence, but soon, it became unnerving. Again and again, you caught her observing you as if carefully tracking your every move.

You snapped back to the present when Wanda pulled the towel from your shoulders. You looked at her, confused.

- "Take off your shirt." - It was more of a command than a suggestion. You stared at her, surprised at her boldness.

- "I’m not saying it twice, Y/N. Your shirt is drenched. Take it off." - You stood firm, refusing to comply so easily. Who did she think she was, ordering you around? Sure, she was right, but still, you can make your own choices.

- "I’m warning you. Don’t test me," she said in a sharp tone, raising an eyebrow and stepping closer. - "Don’t worry, darling. No one will see." Your eyes locked, and in an instant, whatever determination you had shattered. She had that effect on you, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

Hesitantly, you peeled off your damp shirt, shivering as the cold air met your skin and the fabric of your sports top. Wanda gave you a satisfied smile, wrapping the towel back around you.

- "Good girl. I’m proud that you listened to me," - she murmured, adjusting the fabric on your shoulders. - "It’s okay, sweetheart." - Her voice softened as she leaned in, her hands caressing your back over the towel, sliding lower. - "It’s okay to want to act like a brat sometimes…" - Her face was dangerously close to yours, her hands now resting on your waist. - "But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you know your place." - She whispered the last words against your ear.

Taking the wet shirt from your hands, she gave you one last knowing smile before turning and walking back toward the others.

----

Your plan to stop thinking about Wanda had completely failed. The scene from earlier kept replaying in your head. Nothing made sense. Why does she act so harmless, yet suddenly she feels like a predator ready to devour me? The question tormented your mind. Well, not that it would be a bad thing for her to devour you, you thought. "STOP!" The thought was so loud in your head that you accidentally muttered it out loud. You needed to do something.

The first solution that came to mind wasn’t the best. In fact, it was the worst. But you were tired and maybe, just maybe, desperate. Whether you were ready to admit it or not, the truth was that your body craved her. The way she looked at you, her touch, her words — everything. She was driving you insane, both mentally and physically. You needed relief, and you convinced yourself this was the perfect moment. After all, you had come prepared for this.

You sat up in bed, determined. This was the right time, everyone was probably asleep by now. After skipping the evening mass and only stopping by the dining hall to grab a sandwich to go. You had been avoiding any contact.

Rummaging through your suitcase for your toy, your body burned with anticipation, your thoughts consumed by Wanda. To your surprise, the midnight bell rang, and you jumped in fright. The cool night breeze rustled the curtain by the open window, bringing a sudden clarity to your mind. "God, I mean, literally God. What am I doing? This is madness!" Guilt crept up your spine. Letting out a long sigh, you made a new decision — you needed a cold shower, now.

--

The freezing water was undoubtedly the best choice. As it cascaded down your shoulders, you felt your mind finally regaining balance. You were relaxed, at peace, when suddenly, a noise outside your stall broke the silence. A chill crept down your body. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe it was nothing. Just to be sure, you murmured hesitantly, "Hello? Is someone there?" of course, no response. There couldn’t possibly be anyone here at this hour.

Finishing your long, calming shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and stepped out, heading toward the bench where you had left your change of clothes. Everything was perfectly normal until you realized your underwear was missing. You shook out the rest of your clothing, but nothing. You could have sworn you brought it with you. — Had it fallen somewhere on the way? Or had you simply forgotten to grab it? — There weren’t many options left, you dried off and put on what you had. It was just a quick walk to your room. No one would see.

--

- "Y/N! You’re still awake!" - a familiar voice called out, approaching in the hallway.

No way, you thought. Your hand was already on the doorknob, about to open your room when Wanda appeared.

- "Oh, hi, Wanda. Yeah, I just… went to take a shower," - you responded awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact and instead looking at the object in her hand.

- "Mmm, lucky me, then! I was heading to my room and figured I’d drop off your shirt on the way." - She extended the clothes toward you.

- "Oh, right. Thank you. You didn’t have to wash it," - you said, suddenly remembering the forgotten shirt. Honestly, at that moment, all your focus was on one thing — you were only wearing a thin pair of pyjama shorts, no underwear.

- "No problem, darling." - She offered a warm smile before tilting her head slightly. - "Are you okay? I didn’t see you at mass and dinner tonight. I missed you." - Her hand reached out, gently stroking your arm with a concerned expression.

The warmth of her touch instantly undid all the effects of your cold shower. Your body heated up fast. You tried to maintain a natural posture, but feeling so exposed beneath your flimsy shorts was not helping. You kept your response brief, gripping the doorknob tighter. You needed to get inside, for your safety. - "I’m fine, Wanda. Just tired from today’s activities."

She didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. Placing her hand over yours, she stopped you from opening the door. - "Is that all? Are you having trouble sleeping, dear?" - She squeezed your hand gently.- "How about we say one last prayer together, hm? It will help you rest." - Without waiting for an answer, she pushed the door open.

You had no choice but to nod and step inside, your pulse racing. Wanda followed, closing the door behind her. - "You know," she mused, her voice calm yet laced with something unreadable, - "I have this essential oil that works wonders for sleep. I could use it on you."

This had to be a curse. No word came from your mouth and you were afraid to face her.

Then the silence of the room was broken by her single command. - "Kneel." - Her voice was firm as she stepped closer to you by the bed.

You finally stared at her, incredulous. Your body tensed, yet you could feel a damp heat forming between your legs. She had power over you, and she knew it.

- "What’s wrong, Y/N? Kneel." - She repeated, this time with a slightly softer tone.

A thousand scenarios raced through your mind, all the possibilities of what might happen—but none were what she meant.

- "Didn’t you agree to pray with me before going to sleep?" - she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

- "Oh—of course! Pray, yes, yes, let’s do that." - You responded, your tone far too enthusiastic for the occasion, but relieved nonetheless.

Of course, kneeling was for prayer. You were so stupid. Immediately after your reply, you dropped to your knees, resting against the edge of your bed. The movement caused friction between your legs, heightening your sensitivity. This whole situation was making you feel strangely aroused and simultaneously desperate at the thought of what Wanda might do if she discovered you had been without underwear this entire time.

Before kneeling beside you, she cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at her. - "You’re a good girl, Y/N. Let’s pray to receive His blessing."

Those were the longest, most torturous minutes of your life. You fought against your consciousness, struggling to stay focused, but every little thing distracted you — Wanda’s arm brushing against yours, the rasp in her voice as she pronounced each word, the way she inhaled between phrases. — You felt guilty for desiring her this way, especially at this exact moment.

Shame. Guilt.

Your soaked folds throbbed with ache, your knees pressed against the cold floor — you were paying for your sins, and the devil knelt beside you.

- "Amen." - It was the last word you spoke before she ran a gentle hand down your back and stood up. - "That was wonderful, wasn’t it? I can feel God’s presence here." - She smiled, extending her hand to help you up. - "Alright, now it’s time to rest. Lie down, and I’ll apply the essential oil on you." - She turned, slipping a hand into her bag to retrieve the small bottle.

Honestly, you wanted to plead for her touch — to put an end to this unbearable torment — but at the same time, you felt like the most unworthy soul alive. She was doing all of this out of care and concern… right?

You lay down as she instructed. She poured a bit of oil onto her fingers and rubbed it slowly onto your wrists. - "This will help you sleep tonight, I promise, darling." - Her voice was gentle, almost a whisper. - "One last spot, and we’re done." - She released your wrists, giving you no time to protest before lifting the hem of your shirt, and slipping her hand underneath. Her fingers trailed just above your chest, massaging slowly. The motion caused the delicate fabric of your shirt to brush against your hardened nipples — she must have noticed. Just a few centimetres more, and she would be cupping your breast.

You couldn’t contain it, pressing your legs together, seeking any friction where you craved it most, a quiet moan escaped your lips.

- "You’re so good for me. My good girl." - Her eyes locked onto yours as she smiled. - We’re finished."

- "Goodnight, Y/N. I hope you have sweet dreams." - She stood up and left, leaving you there, needy and desperate. And you could swear that just before turning away, her gaze lingered on the damp spot forming at the center of your pajama shorts.

----

You slept peacefully, like an angel, and for that, you couldn’t hold it against Wanda. She had been right. However, that was the only credit she deserved. Last night had been a whirlwind of emotions and desires, forbidden ones. No matter how much your body craved her or how, in fleeting moments, you believed she might feel something for you too, none of it mattered. It was wrong.

Perhaps God had heard your prayers because your day went wonderfully well. In the morning, you had breakfast with Peter and Cassie. In the afternoon, you were in charge of the arts and painting activity group. Time flew by in the company of the children — so much fun and laughter. You even had the chance to teach them about recycling and how discarded materials could be turned into toys.

Everything was going perfectly — too perfectly. Until Monica approached you. Simply put, one of the church volunteers, an older woman named Sharon, requested a private room, claiming that her roommate’s snoring was unbearably loud. At first, you thought Monica was asking you to check the accommodation list for an available room, but then it clicked. She was actually asking you to give up your room for Sharon. Well, fine. It was a bit inconvenient, but you didn’t mind too much. After all, no one deserved to share a room with a noisy sleeper. However, the proposed solution for your lodging took you entirely by surprise — Monica suggested that you move into Wanda’s room.

You had no excuse to refuse. What could you possibly say? "I’m having forbidden thoughts about a religious woman and I think I’m losing my mind?" So, you had to accept it.

--

You didn’t have much to carry to your new dorm, or rather, Wanda’s dorm. Even so, Agatha offered to help with your belongings since Wanda had given her the key to unlock the room for you, as she was tied up with something else. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that Wanda wasn’t here.

You stepped into the room, a wave of anxiety settling in your stomach. It was nearly the same size as a single dorm, the only difference being two twin beds separated by a nightstand. You couldn’t help but picture Wanda sleeping there and wondered why she had a shared room all to herself.

Agatha walked in right after you, lingering by the door for a moment before heading straight to the window above the beds, pushing it open to let in some fresh air.

- “Feel free to put your things in the wardrobe, Wanda won’t mind,” - she said with confidence, settling onto Wanda’s bed.

You nodded in agreement, carefully placing your suitcase on a table near the wardrobe, mindful not to knock over the items already there. Then, you quietly began unpacking your few pieces of clothing.

Agatha decided to break the silence and asked - “Y/N, have you ever sinned?”

A strange question, you thought, but maybe not so much, considering the place you were in. You took a few extra seconds to think of a response. - “Mm… I guess everyone has sinned at some point, right?"

She let out a laugh. - “Smart answer, darling. But have you ever sinned in God’s house?”

You froze in front of the wardrobe. Did I hear that right? You wondered to yourself. A pang of guilt tightened in your throat as if she knew some secret you’d been hiding. - “Mm… I don’t think I understand. You mean in church?” - you lied, feigning innocence as you resumed putting your things away.

You could feel her gaze on you, the heat creeping up your neck as she studied you. - “Never mind. You’re still too pure, aren’t you?” - she chuckled again, but this time, there was something more suggestive in her tone. - “Anyway, it’s good that you’ll be keeping Wanda company here. She’s been down all day.”

Agatha was right. Your afternoon had been busy with group activities, but in the few moments you glanced around and caught sight of Wanda, she seemed… indifferent. For a moment, you told yourself she was just overwhelmed with tasks or maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as interesting to her anymore, not enough for her to seek you out in a crowd. Whatever the case, something had changed.

- “Really? What happened to her?” - you asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

- “Yeah, she won’t be able to attend the kids’ farewell or the final mass tomorrow since she has to leave in the morning,” - Agatha replied, idly twirling a strand of her hair before continuing. - “That’s a shame. She’s always loved the last day, but unfortunately, she has to go back to Westview to take care of her boys.”

- “Boys??” - you asked, almost cutting her off as she finished speaking. There was no doubt she noticed how quickly the topic had caught your attention.

- “Yeah, her boys. They’re adorable. Too bad I can’t say the same about their father,” - she replied as if it were common knowledge. Common to everyone except you.

You put away the last of your clothes and stared at the back of the wardrobe. Agatha had just dropped a fact you weren’t prepared to hear. You felt pathetic for ever indulging in your own fantasies, a slow-burning frustration creeping in, frustration at yourself. Wanda wasn’t to blame for any of this. It was all in your desperate mind. “Just one more night here, then you’ll be gone. You can do this. You’re here for the kids.” You kept repeating it in your head as you turned to zip up your suitcase, eager to leave the room. But in your emotional haze, you pulled the zipper too forcefully, causing the suitcase to shift and knock over a few nearby objects, sending them tumbling to the floor.

- “Shit,” - you muttered, frustration slipping out before you could stop it.

- “Oh God, everything okay over there?” - Agatha asked, craning her neck to check.

- “Yeah, yeah, sorry for the language. I’m just a bit clumsy,” - you said, quickly crouching down to pick up what had fallen.

The moment you saw what had fallen, you silently prayed not to be cursed. Lying there was a red hardcover notebook and Wanda’s Bible. You carefully picked them up and placed them back on the table. But, as luck would have it, one of the Bible’s pages had crumpled from the fall. Hoping to smooth it out, you opened it where a bookmark had been placed.

There were countless handwritten notes and highlighted passages. The sight warmed your heart. Wanda was truly a devoted woman. But then, one message stood out.

It was written in red ink:

“Father, forgive me;

For I have sinned;

This love isn’t holy;

But I’m too far in.”

Your eyes widened. You were about to read it again when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

- “Y/N? Are you sure you’re okay? Have you finished unpacking?” - Agatha asked.

You quickly shut the Bible, placing the small notebook on top of it. In one swift motion, you grabbed your suitcase from the table and turned to face her.

- “I’m fine, and everything’s set. We can go.” - You forced your best fake smile before striding toward the door, eager to leave.

[girl-lostconnection]

I'm so sorry you have to deal with people being so demanding, and I hope that they actually listen to your post and stop, cause it's just really rude in general.

On the other hand, I, for some reason, keep thinking about your story of reader dying and the 141 grieving and how, for me personally, when it comes to one of my loved ones, no matter how much time passes, I just can't stop thinking about them, craving their love, the way that they loved, and how you can see the similarities in others but it isn't quite right, it still doesn't feel the same, and you're just never left satisfied when you want their love again and no one else can do that, because it's not them. You're still loved, yes, but it's not the same.

Idk. I just was thinking about that and was wondering if that's what they might feel. They still have each other and love each other, but I wonder if there are times when they want or feel like they need it to be like reader's way to feel better on some days, where little things that upset them were originally made better by something reader did, but now that they're gone they're just left with that feeling to simmer.

You know one of the things I had to learn while dealing with grief — it doesn’t become smaller. You just get bigger, you get more experiences the older you get and all of that grief is still there. But grief is just what is left of your love for the person who is no longer there.

I think for them it would manifest differently but I can definitely see Johnny trying his best to keep going because he knows he has three more partners and they have to keep going and they have to keep living. Because Reader wouldn’t be happy with them just ending it all, because there is so much more time left, so many things they haven’t done. I think for him it would be one of the things that would eventually result in early retirement. He already lost a quarter of his heart when he lost Reader, he doesn’t want it happening again. And as much as he loves being demolitions expert, he knows there is a different type of life out there. One that can give him and his partners stability and safety.

I think Johnny would be the person that despite it all still sometimes talks about Reader like they are still there. He mentions references to movies and music and books, he draws them in his sketchbooks, he mentions that “this is the dessert they always wanted to try”. With time it turns into a warm kind of nostalgia, the love that he carries with him, his grief manifesting in trying to compensate for everything Reader wouldn’t experience by living through it himself. And by living on. When his time comes he hopes to see Reader again and say “see? I did well, didnae i? It was a good life. A long life, like you wanted. Bet you are proud of me”

Like i mentioned before Kyle took it in one of the worst hits, he’d keep holding onto Reader’s clothes and mementos as long as he can. He googles obsessively brands of clothes, he finds exactly the same articles because even if these get ruined or good forbid someone throws them out — he will know what to order. It won’t be the same, but he could pretend that it is. He already pretends that he’s alright, he already pretends that the hoodies he’s wearing with Reader’s name and rank are just part of his standard uniform.

I feel like Kyle is a person who has never experienced a loss this big before. He never lost someone who was this close, someone who’s still in his head, someone whose voice he keeps hearing when he talks to himself. Kyle likes to imagine that Reader never passes on. That they are still there, maybe noncorporeal, maybe he can’t see them, but at this point he’d settle for anything.

I think Kyle was never one for religion but whenever he passes church he’d get in to light a candle and say a quick not even a prayer but sort of a wish. Like that’s the only way he can chat with you, like something holy could really pass his “I’m okay, love, I’m eating well. Last mission was shite, but you know how it is. You no longer come to me when i dream. Are you upset, baby? I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful next time, i know you don’t like me getting injured. Just please, come back. I can’t sleep well without you.”

Simon would probably have the hardest times adjusting to the absence of Reader, because he takes the longest time to accept their death. He tries so hard to pull away from the moment where he would need to actually process the notion that it finds him itself and hits him with the force of minivan.

There is aching that he can’t relief, there is itch he can scratch — there is a person who he could tell any of his jokes and who’d not just joke in return but laugh at it and this person is gone. They are not coming back, he can’t even find them somewhere to watch out of the shadows, he can’t stalk them.

Losing people like that is always the hardest because with living people you at least can call/text/send a letter with a carrier pigeon. You can come back and open old wounds, you can pick up the fight, you can look them in the eyes and get some closure. Simon is not getting any. He fights every step of the way, he drags his feet. He’s easily agitated, he feels like hitting his head on the wall every time something stabs him from inside reminding that you are gone.

He comes up with a joke and yeah, of course he can tell it to anyone out of 141, but he wants to tell it to Reader. He wants to tell it to them specifically because they’d have a funny response which they’d choke out of themselves by laughing so hard he actually starts laughing. He misses it. He misses them. He misses their smell, the feel of them, the way he could talk to them and they would just get him so well like no one else would. He doesn’t just lose a partner when Reader dies — he loses a friend.

Price is…Price is complicated. He’s one to bottle it all up and throw it so deep down it may never come up other in his subconscious habits. He makes tea for five people and not four, he shops for five, he still buys the snacks Reader liked, he starts planning celebration for their birthday just on the back of his mind until he catches himself doing it and just forces it all down deeper.

Price would be a high functioning alcoholic in his grief, but still an alcoholic. He drinks a little more than he should, he forces down a drink he’d previously wouldn’t because he knows his limits. But it burns and it numbs and for a few hours he can breathe again. Alcohol allows himself to loosen a lid on everything he feels, it puts safe distance between his feeling and him and he actually allows himself to process some of them.

He cries, he ruins his office, he punches through the wall, he routinely throws up. Once he gets so drunk he actually starts having hallucinations, intoxication so severe he almost chokes on his own vomit. Soap finds him just in time to get him help. After this he gets out on suicide watch for 72 hours and the team would start actually guard him in shifts.

Price still drinks but now next to him there is always someone who also remembers his limits and doesn’t let him overstep them. John hates it at times. He hates himself much more though. He hates Reader sometimes too, because that’s not fair that they are gone. Because look what a fucking mess he is, love, bloody disgrace to drink himself under the fucking table.

Price has the fastest adjustment to Reader staying deceased but at the same time he can’t fully process his grief. Part of him is scared that he will drive himself mad if he does, another part just doesn’t want to. It’s stubborn and unhealthy but so what. He’s a captain, he lost soldiers before, he’s gonna deal with it this way.

But i think he’s also the second person who retires straight after Soap because he finds a new almost obsessively-desperate purpose in keeping his boys alive and well. He may be a fucked up man but his boys already lost one of their own, he doesn’t want to drag them through his death as well

[spidercatweb]

Book Return ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: none! fem!reader, r wears glasses, r is wearing a skirt, no y/n, fluff!! GLASSES REID!!! Great Gatsby mention because it was the first book I could think of...

Request: "Hello, can I request spencer reid x nerdy-girly reader whos work in museum or library and they are smitten with each other? thanks x"

Description: r works at a library, Spencer comes to get his usual absurd amount of books, they have some very cute interactions, Spencer gathers the courage to ask r out on a date :)

Word Count: 1393

A/n: had a sudden burst of inspiration and wrote this all in one night! I hope you enjoy!! Thank you for the request! <3

It’s a lovely Tuesday morning, and you’re working at your local library. It’s been a quiet, peaceful morning. You’d just handed a pile of picture books to the mother of a cheery little girl.

“Enjoy your books!” You wave goodbye to the little girl, who excitedly waves back. Her mother gives you a warm smile. The girl is already reaching for the stack of books in her mother's hands as she walks, asking for a specific one, eager to read it. You smile to yourself. She'll definitely grow up to be an avid reader, she reminds me of myself.

As you sit back down in your chair behind the checkout desk, you spot your favourite visitor entering through the glass doors of the library. Your heart flutters at the sight of him, you hadn’t seen him in nearly two weeks.

You watch the tall, brown haired man painstakingly slot an obnoxiously tall stack of books into the book return. You grin when you notice how your outfit almost matches his, a dark brown cardigan with an off-white top underneath, and a long brown skirt, which matches the cardigan. He wears a checkered brown sweater vest with a white button up underneath. His pants are a shade of dark brown, almost the same as your skirt. Maybe you should stop staring and go help him, that pile of books doesn't seem to be getting any smaller.

“I haven't seen you in a while, where have you been? And would you like some help with those?” 

“Oh! Hi! Um- yes I'd like some help please, that would be great.” He nods and smiles at you, he must be embarrassed by the amount of books he's returning because his face gains a slight red tint. 

You take half of his pile of books into your hands and begin slotting them into the return one by one. “So.. why haven't I seen you in like, two weeks?” You repeat your first question, stealing a glance at his focused expression. He's wearing his glasses… He looks so pretty with his glasses. 

“Um- I've been- I was away for work, we had a case in Oregon that went on for way longer than expected.” He had told you previously about his tiring work at the BAU, and how he and his team would go away for days at a time to catch serial killers. You thought it was impressive that he had the time to read so many books while still keeping up with his job. 

“Well, I- we missed you here-” I missed him? Why did I say that? I barely know the man. “You're much more entertaining than the crabby students who study here for hours.” This was true, just last week you'd had to ask a group of students to leave for being too disruptive. They certainly did not appreciate that.

Spencer huffs out a laugh at your remark, “I’d hope so.” 

You both finish putting the last of the books into the slot, then turn to face each other,. Sstanding there awkwardly for a moment. “Are you just here to return books today, or will you be checking out some more?” You tilt your head at him with a smile, waiting for a response.

“I was wondering if the copy of The Great Gatsby had been returned? I couldn't find it last time, I've been wanting to re-read it for a while.” 

“Yes! I actually saved it for you, it's at my desk!” You grin as you step happily to your desk, pleased with yourself that you had remembered to save the book for him. He follows, fidgeting with his hands and mirroring your grin. She remembered to save the book just for me. Does she do that for anyone else? 

“Here you go!” You hand him the book and hope your cheeks don't look as warm as they feel. Maybe that doesn't matter though, because his seem much pinker than usual. He gently takes the book from you, then quickly inspects it, flipping through a few pages and looking at the cover. 

“Thank you.” He smiles. For some reason, he seems more nervous than usual today. He's more fidgety, and can't seem to form a sentence without stumbling through it. Interesting. It's not like you're any better, though. You've been avoiding eye contact with him as much as possible since you'd developed your little crush on him about five months ago. Every time you were around him, your hands felt clammy and your heart felt like it was racing. Maybe the crush wasn't so little.

★ ★ ★

You leave him alone to gather his comically large pile of books. It takes him about half an hour to finally finish. He's clearly carefully selected each one and taken his time to decide. 

You're doodling mindlessly on a sticky note when he comes up to the checkout counter, setting the heavy pile in front of you. He grabs your attention with a meek “Hi”.

“Sorry! Got distracted!” A nervous laugh escapes you as you adjust your glasses. Grabbing the book scanner, you wait for him to place his library card on your desk. Clearly distracted by something - you - his mind goes blank for a moment.

“Oh, card, yeah, sorry.” He searches his pockets and eventually finds it, placing it in front of you. 

“No need to be sorry.” You shake your head, disregarding his apology. 

As you scan his books, he waits patiently, tapping his fingers on your desk in a quiet rhythm. Usually, he would talk to you. He'd even stay for a while if the library wasn't too busy. But clearly, there was something on his mind. He looks around at the various items on your desk. Many sticky notes filled with reminders and quotes, a small pile of books that you read while you aren't busy, a hand painted mug that holds bright colored pens. All of it was just so you. Or at least, what he perceived you to be. And he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't love the idea of you, if he said he didn't want to get to know you more.

“Alright, enjoy your reading!” You nudge the pile of books towards him and set his library card on top. He slides the card off of the pile and puts it back into his pocket, then carefully takes the towering pile of books. 

“Thank you! Have a nice day!” He turns to leave.

“You too!” You wave, even though his back is facing you.

Just before he reaches the doors, he spins on his heel and walks right back over to you, a nervous look on his face. He bites the inside of his lip, like he's hesitating to say something. You quirk an eyebrow at him. 

“Forget something?” 

“No, actually. Well- yes, but.” He stammers, books still in hand. “I was wondering if you'd maybe like to go out for coffee sometime? With me?” He squints his eyes slightly, mentally preparing himself for rejection. 

You smile, feeling your face heat up once again. 

“Like, on a date?” You hold back a stupid grin.

“Well- only- only if that's what you'd like. Yeah.” He nods, his face turning a deep shade of pink.

“I'd love that, yeah.” You nod back.

“Really?” He smiles wider.

“Mhm” 

He huffs out a nervous laugh, “Okay, how does Saturday sound?”

“Saturday is perfect, just tell me the time and place and I'll be there.” Do I sound too eager? I don't care.

“9:30am? At the café just across the street?” This was clearly what he'd been thinking about all morning.

“That sounds wonderful, I'll see you there.” You nod excitedly, failing to suppress a giddy smile.

“Great.”

“Great.” He stands there for a moment, beaming at the thought of getting to spend more time with you. “So… I'll see you then?” Just one more confirmation to prove it was real.

“See you then.” You nod, he nods back.

He turns to exit once again, making his way out of the building. Once he's no longer in sight, you look around the empty library before giggling to yourself and spinning around in your chair.

You have a big, dorky grin on your face for the rest of the day. You can't wait for your date with Spencer.

Thank you for reading! Feedback is very much appreciated! <3 Perhaps I'll write a part 2 of their date if that's what people would like?

[mia-can-yap-too]

interwoven with webs (part 1)

Who?:- Isagi Yoichi x spider-girl! reader

Warnings:- very bad descriptions of violence, kinda crack, fluff will come in part 2

♫ :- Honeypie— JAWNY

Your name is Y/N L/N, and you are Tokyo's one and only spider-girl. How did this come to be, you say? Well, you would definitely like to say that you got bit by a radioactive spider while graffitiing on subway walls or something like that. But, no, life must work in cruel ways.

You got bit while coming out of the shower. Adorned in nothing but a towel, you had screamed your lungs off when the spider inched closer. You did manage to end up killing it, with the back of a hair brush too, but by then it was too late. The spider had crawled up your leg and bit you.

So yeah, it's not exactly the best story of the birth of a hero but that doesn’t matter. Soon enough, you became accustomed to the changes in your body, albeit you were slightly weirded out when spider webs started shooting out from your wrists. And now, you fight crime and keep Tokyo's streets safe as the one and only spider-girl.

The tabloids love you, especially because you always pose for the photos,even mid-fight. The people love you. Some post you on their socials whenever theysee you and comment many wonderful things like, 'who is this DIVA', '#needthat', and the ocassional 'MOMMY'. It's such an ego boost. And yes, some do have their controversies about you but those are just haters. Some put out conspiracy theories about you, too. You heard one about how you are actually a robot made by the government so that police officers could take a break or some shit. Lmao,no way.

Regardless, with your unrivaled charismatic charm and spidey senses,you can do anything!

Except AP physics, apparently.

"Yeah, no, I don't get it," you say as you turn to look at an exasperated Chigiri. He had been trying to help tutor you, not that he was much better.

"This is it, you are failing," he runs a hand through his hair.

"Hey! It's not my fault I don't understand! It's probably because I have a horrible tutor." You expertly dodge the pencil he throws your way, yet you do let out an overly dramatic gasp at his audacity.

He rolls his eyes at your antics. "If that's the case, then why don't you get a proper tutor? You know, someone who's actually good at this?"

"I don't know anyone from that class, else I would've had one by now," you sigh. "Hey, I know a friend who takes this class too, but I do not know if he tutors as well. I'Il ask him the next time we meet and if he's willing to help then I'll pass on your number," Chigiri's tone is nonchalant, as if he weren't just solving the worst of your problems.

"Thanks but I wasn't aware you had other friends," you joke. Another pencil isthrown at you.

Suddenly, your phone lets out a 'ting'! You pull it out to see the latest notification, from a news channel.

'Bank robbery on the U-20 street. Three people taken hostage.Police are ontheir way.

Eyes widening, you quickly start to shove your stuff into your bag. Chigiri looks over with concern. "What's wrong, did something happen?"

"Yes, I gotta go, I'll tell you later, okay? See you, and sorry for ditching you, too!" You run away, leaving a baffled Chigiri in your wake. Truthfully, he should be used to this by now. You've always got urgent stuff to do. I wonder why.

You run into the nearest alley, doing a quick check to see if anybody was there. Once you confirmed it, you take your suit out and begin stripping to wear it. Why the hell is this shit so hard to wear?!

Discarding your bag in a corner and sending a quick prayer that nobody steals it, you shoot spider webs into the air and swing away. Soon enough, you reach the crime scene. No police yet, maybe that one conspiracy theory had some truth to it.

The doors are locked, so instead you must climb the walls and sneak in through a window. Quietly hiding behind a comically large vase, you assess the situation.

Papers are strewn about and tables have been overturned. Three men in skimasks each hold guns. One is shouting at the hostages, keeping them at gunpoint as he orders them to stay still. Another has a gun aimed at a banker, forcing her to take out as much money as she could. The last one shoves said money into a black duffel bag.

Thankfully, this wasn't a very popular bank, so not many people got caught up in this robbery.

Right, so if you took out the one holding the hostages via sneak attack, you couldeasily deal with the other the same way. And if things went wrong, well...you’d figure it out as you go. You're known for being heroic, not smart.

Keeping your steps light, you sneak up behind your target. The hostages, however, see you, which makes their eyes widen with hope. Unfortunately, the man notices, and turns around. While you are quick enough to disable him and stick him against the wall with your webs, his gasp alerts the other two."Uh oh," you mutter as one of them starts charging at you. He swings at you, but of course, you dodge. Landing a harsh kick to his side, you barely dodge the bullets the remaining man shoots at you. Ugh, you'll have to deal with him later. The one you had just kicked groans as he stands up. After some amateur hand-to-hand combat, he somehow manages to hold the banker at gunpoint with his arm around her throat. "Stay back! I'Il shoot her!"

"Calm down, dude, you wouldn't hurt a lady, would ya?", you chuckle nervously.

Ah, shit. You can't sense the last guy either, he might have made a run for it. You inch a little closer, arm stretched out. "I said stay back!", he barks. His goldfish brain could have never guessed your next move. Moving faster than light, you shoot web from your outstretched hand, not at him though, but rather at the vase behind him. The recoil makes the vase shoot forward, hitting the man at the back of his head. He slumps forward, unconscious.

Unfortunately, your job here isn't done yet. After sticking him to the wall with his

companion and making sure the civilians were fine, you swing out of the bank. He couldn't have gotten that far, could he? You stand on the roof of a building, eyes darting here and there, trying to locate the robber. Fortunately for you, running through a calm crowd in all black attire makes you stand out, so you find him in no time. When he notices you, he tries to get rid of you by darting into a maze of alleyways. You don't stop, as persistent as a pest. What kind of hero would you be if you let him get away?

Soon enough, he is cornered in a dead end. He knows he is fucked. He used all his bullets trying to shoot you in the bank. "No way out, might as well give yourself in," you say with a cocky grin.

He gets into a fighting stance. Battle ready and teeth bared, he is not going down without a fight.

Or that's just what he tells himself.

He doesn't even get to swing his fist before you knock him out with a punch tothe jaw.

Chuckling, you dust off your hands. Heh, you were so cool. The guy behind the dumpster thinks so too.

Wait...the guy behind the dumpster?!

Both of you let out shrill screams when you finally notice him. How long had he been there?!

He tries to say something but the only thing that comes out is a series of gasps."Y-you...l-l..."

"What the hell, dude?! Do you even know how creepy this is? Why were you even there in the first place?!"

He somehow composes himself when you accuse him of being a creep."I was hiding because I have self preservation skills. The guy could've held me at gunpoint!"

"Oh wait yeah..."

Point proven, his awe comes back in full glory. "And...oh my God...you're actually spider-girl?! Woah...that was so cool! You totally kicked his ass!" His deep blue eyes are gleaming with admiration.

"Uh, thank you? And of fucking course I kicked his ass, I am spider-girl, after all." Your wonderful-ness truly has no bounds.

"Hey," he starts shyly, "can I get an autograph? To brag to my friends, you know, that l met the greatest superhero of all time." He was obviously buttering you up, as you were the onlysuperhero ever, but it boosted your ego nonetheless. No way would you turn down a fan, after all.

And so, you comply. He finds it a bit weird that you draw the dots on your 'i's as a small little circle, instead of a dot like normal people, but he doesn't have the courage (or a death wish) to call you out on that. 

After signing his notebook, phone and calculator (weird but okay) you walk him out of the maze of alleyways. Once you make it back to the street, you turn to look at him. "This is it, fanboy. Stay outta trouble, okay? And don't scare people by hiding behind dumpsters, that shit is just weird."

He gives you a deadpan expression. "I told you I didn't mean to do that."

Chuckling, you wink at him. "Sure you didn't. See ya!" 

And with that you swing away, leaving behind an awestruck boy. 

'I am so bragging about that wink,' thinks Isagi.

--

The next week went by pretty normally. No crimes to fight and no fans to awe. But that was okay, because Chigiri did end up convincing that friend of his, named Isagi, to tutor you (for free too!) and now you finally get a chance to deal with the pain in the ass that was AP physics.

You got to the library ten minutes earlier than your tutor. You didn't want him tostart charging you if you were late.

And so you sip your mocha, waiting for your now academic knight in shining armor to save you. Though, your thoughts did end up going back to that guy you met before. I mean, can anyone blame you? He was kinda cute, and getting you to sign his calculator of all things? Total nerd behavior. Y/n approved.

A tap on your shoulder pulls youout of your thoughts. You turn to look at theculprit, ready to go off. What annoying bitch dares to interrupt my daydreaming of fine sh--What?!

You recognized his deep blue eyes. That little sprout on top of his head. It was really him!

Isagi was...the fine shit?!

Authors Note:- This was originally supposed to be one part but it ended up being wayy too long. And my ipad decided to be a bitch and wouldn’t let me airdrop this to my phone so i spent three hours uploading this. Many mistakes were made so if you find any typos please tell me! Also, just because i wanted to say that whenever i put a song in ♫ i don’t mean that i associate the song w the fic, it just means that i listened to it while writing it, unnecessary but still.

[writingwithciara]

across the hall; part 7 -quinn hughes-

summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care

word count: 1.3k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader, toxic ex-boyfriend x reader

notes: i apologize for andy. he's a horrible person but it's needed. no good story is complete without a conflict 😅

things had suddenly gotten weird, but interesting in y/n's life.

she and andy began dating again in secret & for so many reasons, it was wrong. the main reason being their messed up past. but part of her felt it was wrong because of quinn.

it didn't feel right to hide something so monumental from the one person she told everything to. she spent all week wondering how he would react when he found out, mainly questioning if he would be angry, upset or disappointed. or perhaps even all three.

so when quinn came home, it became even more difficult. she had promised she'd spend the day with him when he got back but how was she going to do that without telling him about her new relationship?

early the next morning, y/n and abby met quinn in the garage. he helped abby into her seat and y/n felt something tugging at her heart. they got in their own seats and quinn began to drive.

"we watched the game the other night. i'm so proud of how you played, quinn."

"thanks. i knew you'd be watching so i tried to play my best."

"you're a great player, honestly. you didn't need to try too hard."

"thanks again. not sure why but your opinion means a lot to me."

"same." y/n looked at him and smiled.

"so what else did you guys do while i was gone?"

"i spent a lot of time with bella. she's great. i love her." abby grinned as she watched the scenery outside her window.

"yeah. she's pretty great." quinn smiled and turned towards y/n. "did you have to work a lot?"

"um, no. i had dates."

"dates? as in plural?"

"yeah."

"who was it? anyone i know?"

"no. met him while i was working." y/n looked out the window.

"oh. what an odd place to meet someone." quinn chuckled lightly and kept his eyes on the road, trying his best to hide the hurt on his face.

while they were on the road, his teammates had convinced him that y/n had feelings for him and they proceeded to convince him to ask her out on a date when they got back. but hearing this was like a hard blow to his heart and ego.

his teammates were wrong and he hated how it was making him feel. he didn't think he would be able to have feelings for someone since his last girlfriend broke his heart.

but regardless of his unreciprocated feelings, he still cared about y/n and considered her to be his best friend. he would still do anything for her.

y/n looked over at quinn in time to see what she assumed was a flash of hurt on his face. the guilt started eating away at her. everything felt off and she hated it

the first place they went was the restaurant they always went to when it was the three of them. the wait staff always assumed they were a family and they never corrected them.

but today was different. after three people commented on how cute their family was, quinn corrected them.

"actually, we are not together. she's just my neighbor."

"oh. i'm so sorry." the waitress pulled out her pad of paper and took their order. while she was gone, quinn helped abby with the maze of the placemat. y/n smiled at the sight.

an hour later, quinn was pulling into a parking spot in the lot of his favorite mini golf place that also doubled as an arcade. y/n climbed out and by the time she made it around the car, quinn already had abby out and was holding onto her hand. he was perfect & y/n nearly hated him for the way she was starting to feel.

"what should we do first? mini golf or the arcade?"

"mini golf!!" abby cheered and began tugging on quinn's hand. he chuckled and followed her. after he paid, he turned to y/n.

"you coming?"

"what? oh. yeah. i'm right behind you, quinn." y/n shook her head and followed her daughter towards the first hole. she watched as quinn taught abby how to play the game. turns out, she was a natural and didn't need much help. she even started a friendly competition with quinn.

y/n felt her heart swelling with joy over what she was witnessing. something andy would never do with abby. not because she wasn't giving him an opportunity to do so. but because he genuinely would not be caught dead making a fool of himself.

it was the main reason why she was starting to regret her decision to date him. and it was the reason why she found herself falling for quinn instead.

later that night, they were walking up the stairs to their apartment. quinn was carrying a sleeping abby and any other man y/n knew would've been complaining. but not him. he was special.

"today was the most fun i've had outside of hockey in a really long time. thank you."

"it was my pleasure quinn." y/n smiled when they reached their floor. "abby really loves spending time with you."

"i love spending time with her too. she's a great kid." quinn glanced at the sleeping girl in his arms and smiled. "you did a good job raising her."

"thanks. it was difficult but i figured it out."

"well i'm not surprised. you're a smart woman, y/n." they reached their apartments and quinn gently handed abby over. she didn't wake up as he opened y/n's door for her. he followed her inside and waited for her to get abby to bed.

when she came out a few minutes later, she grabbed two glasses and poured a little bit of wine in each before handing quinn one.

"thanks." he took a sip and smiled. "i missed you while i was away, you know??"

"oh." she looked at him. "i actually missed you too. kinda hard knowing that you weren't across the hall to talk to when i had a decision to make. and trust me, i faced a few tough ones."

"really? like what?"

"the guy i've been seeing. i wasn't sure when we started going out and i wanted nothing more than to talk to you. maybe you could've talked me out of it."

"yeah, maybe." he downed the rest of the wine in his glass and smiled. "who is it?"

"promise you won't hate me?"

"i could never hate you." he placed his hand on her arm. "you can tell me anything. i would never judge you."

"okay. um...it's andy."

"andy? as in your ex & father of your daughter? the one who hurt you in multiple ways?"

"the very same." y/n could sense the judgement in his voice so she avoided his gaze just as he dropped his hand from his spot on her arm. "i knew you wouldn't like it. that's why i didn't want to tell you."

"it's not that i don't like it. it's just that i don't understand why you would want to start dating the guy you had to fly across the country to get away from." quinn stood abruptly, causing y/n to flinch. "he hurt you, y/n or are you forgetting that?"

"i'm aware of my past with that man. and i promised myself i wouldn't let my guard down until i saw some actual change that could be permanent. and that's what he did, quinn." she sighed. "i'm aware that it may have been a terrible decision but i'm not the type of person who can hurt someone. and i like giving people the benefit of the doubt. maybe he really has changed."

"yeah. maybe." he looked at the door. "i should probably go."

"quinn, i-"

"i'll see you tomorrow."

before she could respond, he was already out the door. she knew it was a bad idea to tell him.

----------

tags: @alwaysclassyeagle @justagingerliving @marroonwitch @hwalllllllelujah

[aringofsalt]

you are on 🐕🐕🐕🐕🐕🐕 lockdown actually idk what you were thinking adding other WIPs to the list only 🐕🐕🐕🐕🐕🐕 (12 dogs!)

12 dogs 😭 the way this is gonna be like a quarter of the fic lmaoooo

"An...adoption drive?" Bobby asked slowly, looking down at the clipboard Buck had dug out from god knows where.

"Yeah!" Buck replied excitedly. "I was talking to James, you know, the guy from the shelter from the other day? They were full when the fire happened, and we got everyone out, but now they're down to less than half capacity until they can get the repairs done, and none of the shelters around can help because they're also full. So I thought maybe we could help out, get some visibility."

Buck turned on his own puppy eyes then. Bobby would never admit it, but Athena had made many comments about them working on him far more often than they really should.

He sighed. "Fine. But you're organizing it."

—

Two days later, by some miracle of planning and sheer determination—and more than a few cans of Red Bull—the firehouse was full of barking, meowing, and even the occasional chirp. They'd had a steady stream of people all day, and far more of them had actually adopted than Buck expected. He stood next to James, matching grins on their faces as a pair of twins walked away with their mom and a bonded trio of kittens.

"I can't believe how well this is going," Buck said happily. He turned to James, who was already looking up at him, smiling softly, and his own smile faltered for a second.

"It's all thanks to you," James said, gently nudging their elbows together. "I don't know how you got this together so fast. I should give you my number, get you on the board at the shelter, I could use you."

"Oh, yeah, I—I love helping out—"

"Hi, I'm so sorry, I was wondering if I could meet that cat over there?"

James gave his arm a squeeze and went to go help the woman who'd interrupted him, and Buck sighed, face falling as soon as James wasn't looking at him anymore.

"You know he was flirting with you, right?"

He'd been so lost in thought he hadn't even noticed Chimney coming up behind him.

"Yeah, I know."

"And you're... not going to do anything about that?" Chimney asked slowly.

Buck shrugged. "Nah."

Chimney opened his mouth, clearly about to start in on a lecture, but Buck was saved when one of the other shelter employees came in, struggling with three dogs on leashes and a fourth in her arms.

"Hey, let me help you with that," Buck offered, reaching for the dog she was holding before the poor thing could squirm its way into falling to the floor.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "Billie gets so stressed out with change, poor girl. It's been a rough few days."

"I bet." Buck stroked her little forehead, cradling her gently against his chest. "Hi, Billie!"

She was a tiny thing, practically able to fit in one of his hands, with soft blonde fur that fluffed up around her ears and on her tail. Her eyes seemed to take up half her face, deep brown and soulful and looking up at him with the most trusting expression he'd ever seen. He hadn't been around a dog in years, but one look in Billie's eyes and he knew he wasn't going home without her.

—

"You want to what."

Eddie sounded unimpressed.

"Uh, house sit for you?" Buck winced. "Look, just for a week or two, I know you're still looking for renters and I don't want to mess with that. I can just—I dunno, take care of the house for a while instead of you having to pay the real estate guy to do it."

"How the hell did you forget your apartment doesn't allow pets? Again? Didn't this happen with that dog a few years back?"

"Hoover," Buck supplied. "But, come on, Eddie, look at this face." He flipped the camera, zooming in on Billie, who was happily playing in the corner of the room with one of her new toys. "She doesn't bark, we've been really lucky so far, but sooner or later somebody's going to notice me smuggling her in and out for pee breaks."

make me write!

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

Hot Spot time! More Mech AU-AU. TexAid with typical TexAid shenanigans.

Sorry it took a bit, I've been in too much pain to do much and work was HELLAAA busy.

The worst thing about the apocalypse wasn’t even the apocalypse, it was the collapse of supply lines. It was the shift of daily life, the sudden halt to expectations.

Even in the early days, when he was still young, he could expect the shop to be reasonably well stocked. He could expect his trains and his buses to have minimal delays. Fresh fruit and vegetables were still something obtainable. While large supply ships and jets were rare and expensive - they were prime targets for any attack and their mechs often couldn’t protect them - they were still connected by trains and underground tunnels. The quintessons couldn’t get there.

But that didn’t mean they’d supply everything on these trains, as he’d come to learn.

He’d always thought that being on a mech base would guarantee these things for him, but no. He hadn’t had good fucking custard in years - and not that shit that came from powder, or someone whipping together eggs and milk. He didn’t want that. He wanted the thick, horrendously artificial stuff that came out a carton. He wanted to slurp it from the can. He wanted to go at it with a spoon and raw abandon. What didn’t they get about that? The cravings intensified as the temperature dropped, and it was starting to frost in the mornings.

But when there was only so much space on these trains, when there were only so many of them, shitty pre-made custard wasn’t a priority.

He pouted in Vortex’s cockpit as he absently poked at his sponge cake. He knew how good it was with the vanilla-flavoured stuff, the way it soaked into the cake, the warming sensation of it.

[SOMETHING WRONG?]

“I guess I’m feeling nostalgic.”

His breath fogged around him like dragons breath, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. It was starting to get cold - maybe it would snow soon? He hoped it would. He always liked the snow. His head throbbed underneath his knitted beanie, the injury he’d sustained in the last drop angrily protesting to the sudden drop in temperature as he went outside. A long gash from where he’d whacked his head after Vortex had taken a turn too harshly. He’d been very apologetic, but it was hard to take seriously when he was laughing so hard. So, he was being grumpy with him as he trotted off of base and out of view of the cameras he so loved to watch him on.

The bonus of a head injury meant that he was given four days minimum off of piloting, barring any life-or-death emergencies - it would cause him more harm than any good he’d make by hopping into his mech, and he was going to enjoy his time off thoroughly.

Namely, in seeing some old friends.

“Hey, Aid!” A wide grin and a big wave. Hot Spot stood by his car, looking just like he had the last time he’d seen him.

First Aid wondered if he looked any different.

“Hot Spot!” He ran over to him, jumping up to hug him. The taller man hugged him back, and First Aid melted into it. Hugs from his old team lead always felt like a warm mug of soup and a thick blanket. Perfect for cold days like these.

“Come on, get in, you’re freezing!” He fretted, opening the door and ushering him in. First Aid hopped up into the front seat, melting into the seat warmers. “Let’s go get coffee.”

It had been Blades who had reached out to him first. A comment about how he’d seen him on TV, that he hoped he was doing okay. First Aid had taken one look at the situation he was in and had decided that no. No, he was not okay, actually. He was… he was fine with it. The situation was bearable. Manageable. He’d make it work and he would thrive and come out the other side of it for better or for worse. He didn’t have any doubts about that. But to say he was okay?

No. No, he wasn’t. He’d completely lost control of his situation, it was entirely in the hands of a dead man and of people who didn’t see him past his identification number, and the dead man miraculously had more concern for him than his bosses did. Vortex didn’t even know how to pretend to be guilty. The higher ups always gave him that same apologetic smile and stock answer.

And it was Blades. He’d felt sick. Everything he’d been holding back and repressing came bubbling up and he’d had to quickly shove it back down again before he did something stupid, or cried. So, he’d given him a simple response that left no opening for continuing the conversation, and left it at that. They could return to the bizarre routine of Blades sending him mindless ten second clips that he’d ignore and First Aid accidentally sending him one that he would react to in seconds. He wasn’t ready for it to be anything else.

“How’s your head feeling?” Hot Spot asked as he turned into a drive through. First Aid thought of custard.

“Sore.” He admitted. “I didn’t think my helmet could even do that to me.”

“It seems like a bit of a design flaw.” Hot Spot frowned. “Just from turning too fast?”

“There is a lot of momentum in Vortex, he really goes for it.”

“Vortex?” He tried the name on his tongue. “That’s that really big one, right? Your mech?”

“My mech.”

“You’re going to have to tell me how you came to be a pilot.” He pulled up to the drive through window. “The usual?”

He’d forgotten what the usual was. He’d only been drinking long blacks lately.

“Please.”

It turned out the usual was a cappuccino with cinnamon lightly dusted on top. It tasted familiar and nostalgic and suddenly he was sat back in their dinky little room at the table with mis-matched chairs and the faint smell of burning. The light above them used to hum and flicker, and the radio would often dissolve into static. Now the only flickering lights and static came from Vortex.

“So. You’re a pilot now, huh?”

They were looking out over the harbour, watching the small ships come in. Small fishing vessels, small short-distance cargo ships. The ones that could hug close to the coast, hidden and undetected. Seagulls loudly cried as they circled them, anticipating scraps from their catch.

“Yeah.” He swirled his coffee in his hands to mix in the cinnamon. “I was a medic, I swear. I was assigned to Vortex then, too. Uh. Helping the pilots after drops.” He wouldn’t mention the fact they were often mangled and long dead by the time he got there, Hot Spot was sure to blow a gasket. And he definitely wouldn’t mention that it was a punishment. “His last pilot didn’t survive the drop, and the mech chose me to take their place. So yeah. Pilot.”

“The mech chose you?” He sounded incredulous. “I didn’t think it worked like that.”

“Vortex is a… special case. If he doesn’t like them, he won’t work.” He drummed his fingers on his cup. It had burned in the back of his mind ever since he first connected to Vortex. He knew he was real. That he was actually alive, that he wasn’t just a series of ones and zeros - that he had been a real human being with real experiences and memories. But would anyone else even believe it? Would anyone else see what was right in front of them? “Hey, this is going to sound totally nuts, but hear me out. I want to know if I’m going crazy. You know the mechs all have an AI, right? That acts as our copilot?”

“Yeah - based on human data, right? The best parts of humanity cherry picked.”

“Yeah, right.” First Aid nodded. “Completely artificial. Just based on interviews and footage and friends.” He was tapping his foot, heart thumping in his chest.

“What are you getting at?”

“Vortex isn’t a good person. There’s nothing righteous about him, he’s rude and he’s crass and he’s violent. If he’s supposed to be built from the best parts of humanity, why is he made of the worst? No, I don’t buy it - I don’t think Vortex is an AI. That he’s more human than they let on.”

“Wha- okay. Pause. From the top. Vortex is your mech, and it’s the name of the AI?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re saying that it’s not an AI?”

“I know it sounds crazy-“

“They wouldn’t do that! Imagine if they got caught - the fallout would be unimaginable. No, Aid, I think you’re getting too attached.” The again was silent but rang loud and clear. “You’re anthropomorphising them to justify the way you feel about them.”

He didn’t know what he was thinking. Why would he tell Hot Spot? Had he dragged him into this now? Why did he think Hot Spot would even believe him? Stupid. Stupid stupid - the whole thing was stupid. Fuck. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, against the tightness and the raising heat of humiliation up the back of his neck.

“You’re right.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I think I’m panicking. I’m in way over my head.” He laughed, but he couldn’t sweeten it. It sounded bitter and dark. “Being connected to another conscience is… a lot. Hey.” He turned to his old team leader. “How are the others? 

Can you tell me about them?” He wanted to hop out of the car and sprint, to get away from the conversation as fast as he could, but he couldn’t, so he had to do the next best thing; swiftly move on.

“You sure you’re okay, Aid?”

“I’m fine, really. I’m just tired. Please?”

Hot Spot seemed uncertain, but slowly replied. “They’re fine. Great, even. It’s not the same without you though.”

“I miss you guys too. How’s Medix getting on? Last I heard they were a bit of a recluse.”

“Still no better, but he has the worst luck, honestly, so I don’t blame him for wanting some quiet. Blades is as rowdy as ever. Oh-!” He slammed his fist into his palm and wiggled his eyebrows at him conspiratorially. “Streetwise finally got himself a girlfriend.”

“Oh?” First Aid immediately perked up, leaning on the centre console. “Do go on.”

They’d gone to pick up dinner before Hot Spot dropped him back at base. What was supposed to be a short coffee had ended up being a whole day affair - Vortex was sure to be beside himself. As it was he already dreaded getting back in the pilots seat - he didn’t know how Vortex would react to him telling Hot Spot.

“Let me know when you’re home.” First Aid unbuckled his seatbelt. “And let me know how much I owe you.”

Hot Spot was looking at him weirdly. It was almost concern.

“Aid… how’d the last pilot die?”

He didn’t need to guess what he was talking about.

“Why? Worried?”

“Extremely. Whenever I see any of the mechs deployed I can’t help but think of you in that cockpit.”

“Vortex ate them.” First Aid replied.

“He ate them?” Hot Spot quietly asked.

“The cockpit is his face - the pilot sits in his mouth. I sit in his mouth. They came out mangled, as if they’d been chewed up.”

“Felix.” Hot Spots hand was warm on his. “If… if you ever need to go, if you ever feel like you aren’t safe, you call me, okay? I’ve got a spare bed. We all miss you a lot - I’m sure there won’t be any objections to you returning to the team, either.”

“Thank you, James.” He gently squeezed it. “I appreciate it. Really.”

He wouldn’t leave Vortex. He couldn’t. But it was comforting to know that he’d have somewhere safe to go to.

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

He should have been more afraid. They were in the midst of a drop, surrounded by friend and foe alike, when Vortex saw it. If he was more afraid, he’d have tried harder to obscure the memory, to suppress it. Unfortunately it was clear as day.

“I am.” The fingers shoved roughly into his brain and First Aid arched, limbs twitching as his vision went white. A strangled scream escaped him, bright red blood dribbling from his nose. “I exist therefore I am. Got it? Shit. You all disgust me. You think any of these fucks are good enough to make me? That they could have fathomed even a fraction of the pure fucking hatred I harbour for them? Fuck that. I’m an object of my own creation. Do not forget that, darling. I’m just as real as you are.” The fingers were slowly extracted, dragging across neurones and grey matter. “Wipe your nose before you make a mess. You worked so hard to clean me out.”

First Aid shuddered and gasped, neuron’s misfiring in his brain. His body twitched and he choked, shakily reaching up to touch under his nose. His hand came back red.

“Tex, I-“

[WIPE YOUR DAMN NOSE.] flashed insistently on the screen.

Now he wasn’t even speaking to him. Damn it.

He took a handkerchief from his thigh pocket and held it to his nose. He could feel Vortex twirling around as he sliced and diced his away through the field, could vaguely hear the radio chatter of nearby pilots and of Mission Control. Neon blue spurted up onto the visor every so often, thickly coating it.

“I should have asked you first.” His head throbbed and he could feel the strain in his lungs as he tried to breathe. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place.”

[SHUT THE FUCK UP] was punctuated with a sharp flick to his forehead.

First Aid’s jaw snapped shut. He grimaced, shrinking in on himself. The thought of disconnecting to really give him the silence he wanted flittered across his brain, but quickly scratched out - Mission Control would see it instantly. It would just cause them more trouble. So instead. He found a far corner of their shared conscience and curled up.

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

“You need to secure your mech more firmly.”

“What?”

First Aid had been collared by security on his way down to the training room. His heart was thudding in his chest, initially thinking that they’d caught onto him again, that they knew he held a medical kit in his bag, that he didn’t intend on getting any practice in that day, so their demand caught him off guard.

“It came loose from its dock and almost fell on a group of visitors.” They were scowling at him. “You’re very lucky it didn’t crush them.” They continued talking, mentioning that they weren’t suing, but he wasn’t really listening any more.

Who had Vortex tried to crush? He’d never done it before, he’d never wrenched himself hard enough to break free from the cage that contained him. It was strange, extremely unlike him, and had him on edge - was it a tantrum from what he’d spoken to Hot Spot about, or was he genuinely out for blood? Had he finally snapped?

He didn’t reply, simply turning on his heel and marching off towards Vortex. Who was still mad at him. Who had a high chance of, in the best case, ignoring him, and worst case, entombing him. He swallowed nervously and hoped he was feeling generous today.

On a visual inspection, he could see that the dock was heavily damaged from where Vortex had wrenched himself free. It was still sparking, bright lights showering down on the mechanics trying to fix it. Thick metal sheets hung by wires, and debris littered the floor of the hangar. Part of the walkway had been damaged, clear hand prints on the metal. Part of the walkway had buckled under his fingertips.

Vortex was in the opposite dock, and First Aid could tell he was straining against the additional restraints. The new dock creaked ominously and his visor flashed, hands twitching. His helm was turned slightly - not enough to be obvious, but enough to tell he was glowering at something. First Aid followed his line of sight to the command centre.

Swindle was stood at the glass speaking to someone. The stranger was the most frightening man he had ever seen, and he was staring right at him. He was suddenly overcome with the urge to run away and hide, to get himself somewhere where that man wasn’t.

He heard Vortex’s canopy unlock, the clunk of the deadbolt disengaging loud. He flinched, but didn’t turn to look at him.

He couldn’t look away from that terrifying man.

The sound was louder as Vortex pointedly slammed the lock back and forth, growing impatience evident.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” His voice wavered and he swallowed thickly. “You’ll break that lock, you know.”

The man next to Swindle didn’t look human, and he suddenly felt like he was about to be sick, fear and anxiety swirling in his chest and reaching up to strangle him. He was still looking at him. He hadn’t broken eye contact, even as Swindle was trying to lead him away.

He quickly went to Vortex, previous reservations thrown out the window. Screw it - whatever Vortex did to him was sure to be kinder.

“Can you open up?” He refused to take his eyes off the unsettling man. It felt as if he would suddenly appear behind him if he so much as blinked. “Please?” His voice was tight.

The canopy flung open and a maintenance hand flew out and grabbed him, tugging him in. First Aid yelped in terror, canopy loudly slamming back down and locking in place.

“Vortex- why do you even have that thing!”

[SURE TOOK YOUR FUCKING TIME]

First Aid realised he was shaking, and so was Vortex. A faint memory prodded at the back of his head, teasing him with flashes of sensations and feelings. Pure fear. Absolute hatred. Dirty white lab coats speckled with blood and viscera, and purple nitrile gloves.

“Is that the guy you almost crushed?” All of Vortex’s cameras were still trained onto him – not even the camera in the cockpit was studying First Aid as it usually did. No – it was twisted as far as it could go, focusing directly onto the man in the window. He had a smirk twisting his expression, pleased or delighted or pissed First Aid couldn’t tell, and he was finally letting Swindle pull him away.

[TREPAN]

[I WILL KILL HIM EVEN IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO]

“Who is he?” He felt his hands tremble harder, the pure hatred rolling from Vortex’s circuits making him feel weak and dizzy.

[CREATOR]

“He’s the one who put you in a mech?” He weakly asked.

[AND MORE]

“What’s he doing here?!” First Aid hissed. “He’s terrifying!!”

[DO NOT LET HIM NEAR YOU]

[HE’S LOOKING AT YOU LIKE HE USED TO LOOK AT ME]

[YOU ARE MINE AND I WILL NOT LET HIM TAKE YOU]

First Aid gripped tightly onto the pilots chair as if he were trying to hide behind it. The maintenance arm wrapped around him tighter, digging into his skin and leaving behind a mark.

[aspivampi]

Gentle Kisses

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

It had been a couple of months since the events we all know took place. Angel's house had never been the same but not in such a bad way. They were happy to be waking up with Smiling Critters surrounding them and snoring sweetly. The warmth of so many furry toys made them reconsider going back to sleep. They had to get up , however. The chores won't do themselves. As their mind was processing all the things they needed to do that morning , they heard a quiet CREAK from the room next to theirs.

-Good to see I'm not the only one up. - Angel yawned and chuckled after.

But maybe let's focus on the one that short story is actually about.

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

Kissy Missy stayed right where she was , not bothering to check , what the noises downstairs were all about. It wasn't until Angel came up to her room , that she took her gaze off the window she was looking through.

-So it's you I heard frivoling about earlier. - the yellow skinned person gave Kissy a soft smile.

Angel approached casually and sat beside Kissy. The floorboards creaked quietly as they parked their rear on the floor.

-Aren't you coming downstairs ? Breakfast is ready. - Angel asked as they were tying their unruly , spiky hair into a ponytail.

Kissy's eyes glistened at the thought of a warm meal.

-I made pancakes. - Angel added subtly and that was enough to get Kissy to come downstairs.

Kissy's monkey-like feet stomped down the stairs only to arrive in the kitchen and see a saddening sight. The kitchen table had been picked clean from any remains of breakfast. Angel's arms drooped.

-Oh gosh darnit. - they groaned. - Picky ! Did you eat all of the pancakes ?!

-... No ? - a high-pitched voice echoed from the garden outside.

-Come here ! - Angle growled blithely and took off running.

The laughter of Picky Piggy and a few of her comrades rang from outside. It was nice , really. Kissy grabbed the sweater. Angel gave her some hand-me-downs when they arrived at their house. All of the toys got clothes to wear , it reminded them of the simpler , nicer times. Kissy made her way outside just in time to see Angel capture Picky. Snip-its of their conversation could be heard from a distance.

-You little imp ! What happened to the pancakes ?

-I don't know.

-Oh , I think you do know. - Angel smirked mischeviously. - Spit it out !

Picky's giggles mixed with snorts resonated all around as she received her punishment from her caretaker. Those tickly fingers of theirs could be a menace to all toys.

Kissy Missy ignored the rumble in her stomach , got up from the stool she was sitting on and joined her friends outside.

One , certain someone was missing from the group. It made Kissy wonder. She approached Angel and put her hand on their shoulder.

-What is it , sweetie ? - Angel took a break from playing with Picky Piggy to address their tall friend.

Kissy made a peculiar shape with her hands above her head. It took Angel a second to understand , what Kissy meant.

-Where is Doey ? He went for a short walk. He should be nearby. - they answered simply.

Kissy nodded her head , true to her name , gave Angel a kiss as an expression of gratitude and went out to search for her best pal. The woods grew close to their house and it was a perfect place for Doey to go to. He mentioned many times , how calming and relaxing it was to be out there. The woods weren't all that big , you could clear them entirely in a matter of around ten minutes. Kissy didn't have to coddiwomple for long in order to find , who she was looking for.

On a long , thick log sat a figure very familiar for Kissy Missy. Even with all the changes to his physical appearance , he was still the same , good ol' Doey. The pot-bellied doll turned their head just in time to see Kissy approach him.

-Hiya , Kissy ! - he smiled.

His smiley had some laziness or maybe tranquility to it. You could just tell it was the expression of somebody who knew , thet were finally safe and sound.

Kissy Missy sat down beside her best friend. The log was a little uncomfortable to sit on , so they settled on sitting on grass. The summer breeze blew gently and carried the sweet smell of bourtree with it.

Doey chuckled softly.

-Can you believe it ? We are finally out. - he uttered under his breath.

Kissy turned her head to face him. If she could speak she would propably say : " it's hard to believe but yes " but because she couldn't , she resorted to squeezing Doey's hand. He got the message and that's what mattered.

They spent the next couple of minutes just taking in the view of nature, It was quiet but in a pleasant way.

Doey adjusted the daisy , stuck in the band of his top hat.

-Why did you come looking for me ? - he asked Kissy. - It's not that I mind , you know.

Kissy Missy just shrugged.

-Don't know ? Heh , alright. - Doey chuckled , closing his eyes.

A couple of leaves got blown down from nearby trees. They landed around Doey and Kissy , a couple ended up on Doey's head. He shook his noggin around to get them off. Kissy placed her fuzzy head in the crook of Doey's bendy neck. The moment of closeness between the two friends got interrupted by a quizzical noise. It came along with some squirming and quaking.

Kissy removed her think-box from it's perch , which was Doey's shoulder. She looked at him with interest.

-Apologies , Kissy. Your fur just tickled me , that's all. - he snickered while rubbing the tingles away with his hand.

Kissy Missy responded to that with a coy smile. An idea popped into her fuzzy head. It was a nice day already and a laugh or two would make it even better.

She wrapped her noodle arms around Doey's trunk , letting her plush hands rest on his round paunch. It could just be a simple , sweet hug or a tickle trap. In that case it was both. The pink , plush doll innocently wriggled her monkey-like paws , her fluffy fur rubbed against Doey's belly.

Kissy might be playing it off as her just trying to get a better grip on Doey but is she really doing that ?

Doey's voice quickly started cracking.

-Mwehehehehe ! Ahahaha Kihihihisyhyhyhy !

Kissy pretended not to be hearing her friends'es protests but were they protests really ?

He didn't say "stop".

She did what her name alluded to and peppered plenty of tickly kisses all over Doey's tummy.

-Bahahaha ! Nohoho ! Nahaha *SNORT* hat theheHEHEHEHE kihihihissehehes !

Oh yes. Yes , the kisses.

Kissy then proceeded to start kneading on Doey's sides and hips. The dough squished underneath her fingers , she almost fell like a baker.

-AhahaHAHAHA ! KiHIHIHIHIISSYHY ! *SQUEAK* HEHEHEHE ! *SNORT*

Kissy Missy was so focused on doing her part in that tickle fight , that she forgot abouth the fact , that Doey could be a menace as well. She felt a tap on the shoulder out of nowhere.

-Heheh , watch your back , my dear. - Doey wheezed , remnants of laughter still caught up in his throat.

The pink , fluffy sweetheart suddenly got grabbed by the shoulders. The surprise on her face quickly changed into a wobbly smile. Doey trapped Kissy in a friendly bear-hug.

-You must have forgotten that I am the tickle monster around these parts ! - he grinned , showing off his sharp , red teeth.

The tickle monster in question took the opportunity to strike. Doey dug his stubby fingers into Kissy's sides and that prompted the following answer :

-*SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* *PEEP* *CHIRP*

-Aww ! You are like a little squeaky toy. - her best buddy complimented on her reaction. - How adorable ! How about here ?

Doey nuzzled his face into Kissy's neck. She immediately scrunched said neck to protect herself from the tickles but it was no use.

More absolutely adorable noises came from the taller toy.

-*EEP* *SQUEAK* *PEEP* *MEEP*

-Doey ! Kissy ! Where are you guys ?! - a voice rang through the air.

Hearing that , Doey halted his little revenge. Angel stumbled out of the bushes with little DogDay perched on their shoulder. Their face lit up as soon as the saw Doey and Kissy.

-Oh ! Am I interrupting something ? - they wondered , staring at the two's amusing , and a little flustered , expressions.

Kissy shook her head , barely containing more squeaks.

-No. It's nothing important. - Doey chuckled gleefully.

-Well , that's great. I just wanted to say , that the other toys and me are going out for ice cream. Are you coming with us ? - Angel gestured towards the dirtroad behind them with their head.

-Of course , we are ! - Doey answered.

He got up and helped Kissy stand up. Soon they both headed to the ice cream parlour with Angel and the Critters,

Doey and Kissy playfully bumped into eachother as they walked and exchanged laughs as the sun set on the horizon.

*THE END*

[nmjackson]

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐈𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

*TLDR: This year has been incredible to my writer ego. If that even makes any sense...

Phew! At the risk of sounding incredibly cliché , what. a. year. I’m not gonna lie, I had no idea how popular the “Choose Your Warm Up” series (?) of PDFs were going to be. I’m beyond excited to see that people do like them. Not that I intended for them to be disliked, I merely have a recurring fear that everything I create is complete and utter garbage. Having some external validation is majorly appreciated while I’m working on the internal stuff ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ). I had a mini vlog planned for this post, but I never got around to recording because holiday season stress~ (⁠人⁠⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠ I do have a finished script though! And it all basically boils down to this:

#1- That fear where I feel like everything that comes from me is trash? Comparison trap. I found myself scrutinizing over everything I created because it wasn’t as good as anything that came from the people I admired. This year I finally understood, and came to terms with, the fact that all roads are different. Acknowledging my hard work isn’t going to stop me from trying to get better in my work. And looking up to my heroes shouldn’t stop me from trying to do anything at all.

#2 - After I got over the comparison trap (for the most part)? I just went for it. Didn’t think too hard about the “what if’s” and just went for it. That’s not to say I still don’t struggle with that. I am hoping to keep up with this mindset to see where it takes me in 2025.

And that’s my year in review! The end of the year holds a lot of emotion for everyone, so, I sincerely wish you a wonderful new year. This has been fun! See you later ✌︎︎♡⃛

[souenkun]

"I wish you could see it, too" got a whole new meaning when it's revealed that takashi has all these precious people he could actually enjoy pretty, interesting sceneries with (even if he didn't get to see them together for some instances), while reiko likely had no one to do that after what had happened with souko 💔

[vaggieslefteye]

CHARLIE MAGNE from HAZBIN HOTEL (2019): Pilot - "That's Entertainment" ↳ "So, I've been thinking: Isn't there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through... redemption?"

[lizasweetling]

So it was 1: Vespiary Squad! Seriously though, where have you been???

there's probably tactical advantage to hiding while you got the weasel population up, and you guys are pretty clearly very attached to the weasels and so didn't want to take them into battle indiscriminantly, but also. I don't think it would be an entirely bad thing if Europa developed a few score of feral colonies of these guys.

... I suppose the more information is availiable on the wasp eaters the less time they have before their enemies counter them as a technology. and it would be ecologically irresponsible. but Lucrezia and everyone that works for her would hate that very much.

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

actually...

looking at a bunch of my old favorite mutuals blogs that have been inactive for years. i miss them, even if i never really talked to any of them. when you're mutuals with a person for so long they become a comforting presence even without talking. you see them every day and read their posts about their thoughts or feelings or about what's going on in their life and so on. and they just become a part of your daily life in such a subtle way.

and then one day they just never post again. without warning. shit sucks. i actually hate it.

[silusvesuius]

this tree from my new drawing looking goated afffffff 👑👑

[thegreatyin]

do you think lark would like the Scoundrel or the Silverer.

probably no to both. he'd hate the scoundrel (but suck up to them anyway) and be utterly terrified of the silverer (but also suck up to her anyway)