#and brings Fern with them

[miscellaneous--bones]

lorelei has the ability to feel/see someone's innermost self, their very being, sometimes even their thoughts and desires, through touch. this is mostly because their a mushroom, its part of their innate ability to create ''hive minds'' (like mother mushroom, kind of) and connect with other beings. they can do this with about any living thing, which is why they tend to wear very modest clothing. it does require a fair amount of focus but even a simple handshake can at least give them a sense of intention.

when they officially met fern it was in the middle of him trying to detach himself from finn, and define himself as fern. he didn't originally know about lorelei's power, as they tend to try and keep such a thing to themself, and otherwise are less publicly known then their older siblings. its at a party the mushroom kingdom threw celebrating the birth of the newest princess that they meet and spend a bit of the night together.

of course Fern is Strange. being half demon half pure hero is a very mixed message, along with all of the inner turmoil was.. an interesting (2nd?) impression.

i cant think of much of in between here. i know for a moment in the confusion, fern thinks this is another rejection- he'd just made a fool of himself in front of royalty- now they thing hes an idiot, yada yada yada. lorelei on the other hand is embarrassed they got caught up in the confusing little mess that is Fern the Human, completely without his permission or knowledge. big no no, y'kno?

within their powers, fern can see an opportunity to learn more about who he is, a way to get help piece together who he is now.

fern and lorelei agree to meet a couple days after the party, so that lorelei can work their magic and tell fern what they see.

"you can start by relaxing," Lorelei peaked an eye open, a comforting smile tugging on their cheeks. Fern relaxes his shoulders, releasing the tension in his jaw. he mutters an apology as the prince closes his eyes again and seems to focus more. their hands tighten their grip on his own. "You are... struggling to except yourself. Mourning a life you can't get back," they trailed off. their words are halting as they read more into who Fern is, trying to piece together the stranger's history. "There are two sides of you, struggling to work together. This feels like a demon." Lorelei opens their eyes. "-do you know anything of your parents? or- the circumstance of your creation?" Fern glances to the distance. he can't pick out if their gaze is accusatory, or just confused. The prince had been kind to him so far, and he came to them for answers. "its a long story. The grass wizard made me because of a pun, but I'm also from the Finn Sword... I don't really get it either." "So.. you come from both of them. There is a demon here, a curse. it is.. violent, parasitic in nature." Fern's grip tightened in the prince's hold. "But there is a force of good, too. the heart of a hero. loyal and true, pure. and.. angry. You want to be good. You want your life back. You are frustrated with what you've lost, and frustrated that you can't " the prince paused. "You tell the story of a very complicated creation, I hope you know."

as their friendship grows, Lorelei goes deeper into trying to figure out Fern's existence. they call it a personal project, and say it is good for Fern to know the nature of his creation and what it means for who he is. acknowledging and accepting the different parts of himself are the first steps to building his new identity, and building a life as himself. he struggles, with getting used to who he is, with dealing with his bouts of anger and other such amplified emotions, with the idea that he can never go back to the life he remembers. he mourns himself and his friends. Lorelei tries to find food he could eat (fertilizers, various soils, and other such plant food) but it never is the same as his memory. his relationship with his Grass Demon almost improves, but he struggles to find harmony within himself.

L: There's a duality to this. differing relationships between your mind and body. do you see yourself as only Finn, with the Grass Demon as a different entity, or are you a product of both? F: what does that mean? L: You see yourself as your memories, as Finn. This is default because you are human and you see yourself as your conscious. But that doesn't mean your mind is all you are. Finn makes up your head, but the Grass Demon makes up your body, so are you only your brain or do you see yourself as all of your parts in a culmination? F: I don't know, what do you see me as? L: Thats not up to me to decide. It's for you to figure out, to define who you are. To define Fern. L: I feel like most of the answer is in that vault of yours, and I encourage you to try and look through it. F: The vault is where all the stuff I can't handle goes. Looking through it would like, defeat the purpose of the vault. L: I guess I dont get it because I dont have a vault. if I really can't handle something i shove it in a closet... F: How do you get anything done that way? I'd have to board it up. L: keeps away the clutter. I don't know how you get anything done with everything in an inaccessible vault.

[clefablepb]

kinda old fern n finn n jake art i've never posted for some reason? :P get robloxed idiot

[spaciebabie]

you already know what i’m referencing with this image.

maybe i should hit you with mahmmers

[boku-no-anime-phase]

Do you ever just Cry

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Ngl I'm kind of dillydallying around my own SDV fixation and i'd KILL to see what your brain is doing to this game like i for one would eat up dat stuff UP . . .

I love the way this is phrased; genuinely 😭💖 like im a force of nature tearing through any new interest like its made of wet tissue paper 💥💥💥

I thought about it some more and i will (eventually) make an sdv blog. Its going to be a mess having all my interests on one dashboard (im lazy and i dont want to sign in and out all the time for diff accounts lol) but i need sdv stuff in sight or ill explode. For now tho i will ramble about random hcs rattling around in my brain

- The valley is FULL of magic, but not alot of Magical Beings that utilize that magic. If the residents of pelican town knew more about magic, there would be alot more wizards than just. The Wizard.

- Everyone in pelican town has some kind of latent magic, or at the very least, an affinity or sensitivity to magic. I like to think that magic builds in very secluded corners of their world and the area including (and surrounding) pelican town is simply one of those places.

-(sorry, i am just obsessed with Places and Magic) I like the idea of your farmer being drawn to pelican town bc they have a bit of magic in them. The letter is just A Letter, but it is the desire to see this town that makes them leave their old life behind. I am obsessed w the idea that the magic in the farmer craves the valley bc it sees the valley as its home, and by extension, the farmer sees the valley as their home. The people of pelican town rarely leave bc the magic in them sees the valley as their home always. The biggest examples of this are Kent, Demetrius, Evelyn, Emily and Shane. The huge exceptions to this (still workin on it) are lewis and sebastian; lewis bc i see him as a normal, non-magical being trying to wrangle the weirdness of this town, and sebastian bc his feelings of isolation and not being understood propels him to crave the world outside of the valley. (That changes a bit if u befriend him/romance him)

-(shane is weird bc hes super depressed and lonely but his happiness comes from his new ‘ragtag family’ (his words) and his very Not Normal chickens. The animals of the valley love him bc he loves them and he becomes tied to the valley bc of it. Marnie has always loved the animals of the valley and some of the love they had for her definitely rubbed off onto shane, who very openly admits he loves the chickens 💙)

-I wasnt very fond of the idea of purple=magic but i think that was bc i often saw it as a way to tie-in the wizard and abigail. I am still trying to get through the friendships for everyone but rn it doesnt feel like theres any connection between them (and caroline). But. I do like the idea of odd, unnatural colors coming through bc of magic. Alex and Pierre having normal brown hair; Haley and Sam being true blondes. BUT. Shane and Jas having purple-ish hair. Emily and Caroline have blue toned hair. Even vincent have pinkish hair 🥺💖 (and dare i say….sebastian with purple/black hair like shane 👀…maybe he has more magic in him than hed like to believe). Abigail doesnt count bc from what ive seen, Caroline laments about her daughters dyed hair. “When she was younger it used to be chestnut brown” which…awww she took after her dad lol.

- LAST THING. This is not an hc i am just mad about this. I cannot believe the game doesnt allow u to befriend Marlon. What the fuck. What the fuck !!! I love him!!! I want to be friends w the chill monster slayer! Im a monster slayer too!!! Let me give him gifts !!! Fuck ! 😭😭😭💥💥💥💥 Also. I know how to write old man yaoi. They shouldve let me do a romance path for willy, clint and marlon. And the wizard i guess but someone already did that. Linus doesnt count bc hes ascended the need for human romance; hes one w nature (read. aroace). And we (linus and willy and the farmer) already co-raise leo so that counts for something i think 🤔

[maggot-baggage]

I been gardenin

[grassyeggroll]

hello!! I just wanna pop in and say I adore your art so much!! (Your art style is so amazing and I love your adventure time art))

I really love your adventure time-gravity falls au and I was wondering about the storyline of it? It seems so interesting and cool!

It does follow the main plot of the og series, with Finn and Fern having to live with Jake for the summer by their parents (I’m still figuring out whether Minerva and Martin kne w Joshua and Margret or just Jake long enough for them to be comfortable sending their kids to Ooo)

Jake turns his parents’ house into the mystery shack like Stan with his brother’s, followed by Fern finding the enchiridion and the rest of the series’ events starting off afterwards

[ferrn-draws]

was gardening for class today and found TWO (2) beetle grubs <33

video of one wiggling back into the dirt lol

if anyone can tell what kinda beetle this is gonna turn into id love to know :]

i’m pretty sure it’s a fig eater beetle but idk

[wiltingdecay]

thinking about team meln again... how i edited and inserted some old ocs i never used into rwby just for a little fun and ended up rewriting the entire show in my head to include and revolve around them... and then i just ditched them as soon as i created a new barbie doll (rowan) to play with

[no-passaran]

Genocide experts warn that India is about to genocide the Shompen people

Who are the Shompen?

The Shompen are an indigenous culture that lives in the Great Nicobar Island, which is nowadays owned by India. The Shompen and their ancestors are believed to have been living in this island for around 10,000 years. Like other tribes in the nearby islands, the Shompen are isolated from the rest of the world, as they chose to be left alone, with the exception of a few members who occasionally take part in exchanges with foreigners and go on quarantine before returning to their tribe. There are between 100 and 400 Shompen people, who are hunter-gatherers and nomadic agricultors and rely on their island's rainforest for survival.

Why is there risk of genocide?

India has announced a huge construction mega-project that will completely change the Great Nicobar Island to turn it into "the Hong Kong of India".

Nowadays, the island has 8,500 inhabitants, and over 95% of its surface is made up of national parks, protected forests and tribal reserve areas. Much of the island is covered by the Great Nicobar Biosphere Reserve, described by UNESCO as covering “unique and threatened tropical evergreen forest ecosystems. It is home to very rich ecosystems, including 650 species of angiosperms, ferns, gymnosperms, and bryophytes, among others. In terms of fauna, there are over 1800 species, some of which are endemic to this area. It has one of the best-preserved tropical rain forests in the world.”

The Indian project aims to destroy this natural environment to create an international shipping terminal with the capacity to handle 14.2 million TEUs (unit of cargo capacity), an international airport that will handle a peak hour traffic of 4,000 passengers and that will be used as a joint civilian-military airport under the control of the Indian Navy, a gas and solar power plant, a military base, an industrial park, and townships aimed at bringing in tourism, including commercial, industrial and residential zones as well as other tourism-related activities.

This project means the destruction of the island's pristine rainforests, as it involves cutting down over 852,000 trees and endangers the local fauna such as leatherback turtles, saltwater crocodiles, Nicobar crab-eating macaque and migratory birds. The erosion resulting from deforestation will be huge in this highly-seismic area. Experts also warn about the effects that this project will have on local flora and fauna as a result of pollution from the terminal project, coastal surface runoff, ballasts from ships, physical collisions with ships, coastal construction, oil spills, etc.

The indigenous people are not only affected because their environment and food source will be destroyed. On top of this, the demographic change will be a catastrophe for them. After the creation of this project, the Great Nicobar Island -which now has 8,500 inhabitants- will receive a population of 650,000 settlers. Remember that the Shompen and Nicobarese people who live on this island are isolated, which means they do not have an immune system that can resist outsider illnesses. Academics believe they could die of disease if they come in contact with outsiders (think of the arrival of Europeans to the Americas after Christopher Columbus and the way that common European illnesses were lethal for indigenous Americans with no immunization against them).

And on top of all of this, the project might destroy the environment and the indigenous people just to turn out to be useless and sooner or later be abandoned. The naturalist Uday Mondal explains that “after all the destruction, the financial viability of the project remains questionable as all the construction material will have to be shipped to this remote island and it will have to compete with already well-established ports.” However, this project is important to India because they want to use the island as a military and commercial post to stop China's expansion in the region, since the Nicobar islands are located on one of the world's busiest sea routes.

Last year, 70 former government officials and ambassadors wrote to the Indian president saying the project would “virtually destroy the unique ecology of this island and the habitat of vulnerable tribal groups”. India's response has been to say that the indigenous tribes will be relocated "if needed", but that doesn't solve the problem. As a spokesperson for human rights group Survival International said: “The Shompen are nomadic and have clearly defined territories. Four of their semi-permanent settlements are set to be directly devastated by the project, along with their southern hunting and foraging territories. The Shompen will undoubtedly try to move away from the area destroyed, but there will be little space for them to go. To avoid a genocide, this deadly mega-project must be scrapped.”

On 7 February 2024, 39 scholars from 13 countries published an open letter to the Indian president warning that “If the project goes ahead, even in a limited form, we believe it will be a death sentence for the Shompen, tantamount to the international crime of genocide.”

How to help

The NGO Survival International has launched this campaign:

From this site, you just need to add your name and email and you will send an email to India's Tribal Affairs Minister and to the companies currently vying to build the first stage of the project.

Share it with your friends and acquittances and on social media.

Sources:

India’s plan for untouched Nicobar isles will be ‘death sentence’ for isolated tribe, 7 Feb 2024. The Guardian.

‘It will destroy them’: Indian mega-development could cause ‘genocide’ and ‘ecocide’, says charity, 8 Feb 2024. Geographical.

Genocide experts call on India's government to scrap the Great Nicobar mega-project, Feb 2024. Survival International.

The container terminal that could sink the Great Nicobar Island, 20 July 2022. Mongabay.

[Maps] Environmental path cleared for Great Nicobar mega project, 10 Oct 2022. Mongabay.

[sandpaperoctopi]

Oriole took care of Fern after his top surgery

and by took care of I mean brought him like 10 breakfasts per day, then passed out in his chair because he was waking up too early and staying up too late to be with Fern

[pellucid-constellations]

Trial and Error (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Illness, Azriel's pov 👀

a/n: Someone sedate me at this point. Also I'm posting this earlier than planned because I am susceptible to peer pressure

Read part one | part two | part three | part five

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

Azriel sat at the table for breakfast, his attention occupied by the window to his right. A plate of eggs, bacon, and toasted bread sat forgotten and untouched before him. To be honest, Azriel was unsure of how it even came to be in front of him. 

Cassian was saying something, the rest of the table humoring him with sleepy mumbles and raised brows. He was always so lively in the mornings, a sentiment not shared by the rest of the inner circle. 

Azriel was typically one of the more responsive people, but his shadow was late today. It had been a few weeks of sending one out to check on you every night, and this one was late. The rest of them swarmed around his feet in anticipation. 

“Az?” Mor’s voice had him breaking his stare from the window. “What are you looking at? You’ve been checked out all breakfast.” 

Azriel cleared his throat and readjusted in his seat. “Nothing. Just distracted.” 

She snorted. “That’s an understatement. You’re been distracted for weeks now. What’s been going on with you?” 

“Nothing,” Azriel repeated. He picked up his fork despite his stomach protesting, the nerves twisting it to the point of unease. 

“Hate to concur, Az, but you have been rather absent. I think this is the first time you’ve had a meal with us this week,” Rhysand chimed in. 

From beside him, Feyre shot her mate a look. 

Azriel, feeling eyes on him, glanced to his left to find Cassian leering at him with narrowed eyes. His brother leaned his head back and hooked his arm over the back of his chair, analyzing Azriel amidst his lax posture. 

Azriel rolled his eyes. “What?” 

With his tongue pressed into his cheek, Cassian let out a disbelieving huff. “You’re seeing someone,” he concluded. “Who is she? Why haven’t you said anything?” 

“I’m not seeing anyone. Why would you come to that conclusion?” 

“You answered that way too quickly to be believable.” 

“Azriel, are you seeing someone? There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that,” came Mor’s soft tone—trying to play the opposite side of the coin. 

“No, I—“ 

“He is. I know he is.” Cassian, with his assured pestering. “And don’t think I don’t notice how Rhys is being silent here. And Feyre. The only two people in the room that can read minds.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Feyre defended. 

“Yeah!” Nyx yelled, quick to defend his mother. “Nothing!” 

But Nyx’s interference only made Cassian turn his attention to the small child and knock his head to the side. 

“Nyx—“ Cassian began. In response, Nyx shoved a fork full of eggs into his mouth. “Azriel’s been taking you to school an awful lot, hasn’t he?” 

“Mmhmm,” Nyx nodded. 

“And he’s been going to all of your school events?”

Nyx nodded again, this time with a mouthful of juice. 

“Does Azriel talk to anyone when he’s at your school?” 

“He talks to Ms. Fern.” 

Cassian let out a barking laugh and turned back to Azriel with a wide grin. “Ms. Fern? Okay, Az, if that’s what does it for you. You should bring her to the house.” 

Although he felt an immense pride for Nyx keeping his secret (because Nyx had seen him talking to you countless times) a strange, hot anger licked at the bond hanging loose in his chest. 

He wasn’t seeing Ms. Fern. The reasonable part of his mind told him that it was better this way, you would feel safer, but the unreasonable side wanted to knock Cassian across the room.

You were so much better than Ms. Fern. The teacher didn’t “do it for him” and never would. It was insulting to you. 

Azriel ground his teeth. He knew this reaction was more borne from the fact his shadow hadn’t returned and the worry he was feeling was paralyzing, but reasoning with himself did nothing. 

“I will not be—“ 

Sick, sad, help. 

A whisper at his ear made Azriel rein in his words. 

Alone, alone, alone. 

Azriel snapped his head to the side to find his missing shadow whisking down to join the rest, the hoard of them now rising to leave. To get to you, he realized. He had to— 

“What is it?” Rhysand asked. 

Azriel could feel his talons scratch along the barrier of his mind, but there was no time to let Rhysand hear what he’d heard. In one fluid motion, Azriel was up from the table and out of the house, his wings spread wide behind him as he flew to the outskirts of Velaris where you resided. 

One of the first things he would suggest after he got you to trust him was for you to move. 

He’d already reinforced your locks and checked your neighbors, but you were still so far and that side of Velaris wasn’t the best. 

He’d ask you to move into the House of Wind, but he knew that’d be pushing it. Obviously. 

His back ached as he pressed his wings further, desperate to make it to you. He flung his body one way and then the other to dodge buildings as he went, flying low to save time. Luckily, the streets were barren this early. 

But it wasn’t early enough for your shop to be closed, an all too alarming fact when faced with the “closed” sign on the front door. He yanked on the knob anyways, but the door wouldn’t budge. 

He cursed himself for ensuring their stability. 

He started knocking next—soft at first and then with a blistering urgency. He knocked and knocked and was moments away from flying up to your window and possibly scaring you off for good when the door wrenched open.

You looked beyond disheveled, bone-tired, and frankly gaunt as you stared up at him with an incredulous gaze. Your gaze softened a fraction when you saw it was Azriel beating down your door, but a tinge of irritation remained hazing your eyes. 

“Azriel, we’re closed for—” 

“Are you okay?” he rushed out.

Since the open house, Azriel had been more open with his vies to take care of you. If he were being honest, the intrinsic need to protect you and Melanie was overwhelming and he was barely scratching the surface of all he wanted to do, but you became guarded any time he got too intense. So, he walked you home and asked you about your family and he didn’t care if he got a stonewall in response. 

But right now, you did not look well. 

Right now, there was no Melanie peaking behind your legs as you stood at the apothecary door. 

So, right now, Azriel didn’t have a mind to be subtle. 

“Where is Melanie? Are you hurt?” he asked before you could formulate a response. 

He watched your knuckles pale as you gripped the door. You breathed in deeply. “Mel has been sick all night. I’m not sure what it is and I’ve been trying everything. I’m about two seconds away from calling a healer but…” 

Azriel knew that tell—the way your eyes shifted and your expression pinched. 

More people. 

Anytime you were confronted with introducing more people into Melanie’s life, you crumbled. 

“Let me come see her,” Azriel requested, the tension leaking from his voice into a softer tone. Now that he knew the two of you weren’t dying, there was some relief. Some. 

You shook your head, pressing your lips into a firm line as you deflated. “I don’t want to get you sick. I think I'm already a lost cause, but you—you have important things to do.” 

If only you knew how important you were to him. 

Azriel felt his fists clench at the defeated look in your eye. “If you’re sick, you can’t take care of her. Just let me come in. Let me help, y/n.”  

“Azriel…” 

“Please. Let me take care of you.”

He wanted to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth, afraid of you drawing back in fear, but they were already lingering in the space between you. Azriel decided you must have been truly exhausted because your only reply was a pained sigh followed by your door swinging open to let him in. 

You didn’t even send him a sidelong glance. 

Azirel’s hand twitched as he followed you up the stairs to your apartment, the urge to press his fingers along your back stifling. 

One step at a time, Azriel—you were only just letting him into your house. 

Any examination of your apartment abruptly halted as soon as his feet met the threshold of the sitting room. Melanie was lying on the couch looking worse for wear with a cloth along her forehead and a flush to her cheeks that did not sit well with the Shadowsinger. His chest caved in at the sight, a feeling that intensified when her small voice filled the space. 

“Mr. Azriel?” she croaked, attempting to lift her head. You rushed over to press her back down, running your fingers through her hair. “He’s always at my house,” Melanie said, turning to look at you. “Always.” 

You let out a breathy laugh as Melanie shut her eyes and began to softly snore against the arm of the loveseat. Azriel’s shadows rushed to the girl and brushed against her forehead and arms, offering the cool wind they provided. 

In a few steps, Azriel took a knee beside you. He looked at you first—at the way you hovered over your daughter with furrowed brows—and then let his gaze wash over Melanie. Against his better judgment, he wrapped his scarred fingers around her tiny hands. 

No poison, his shadows reported, although he didn’t expect it to be. She was feverish, hadn’t eaten since last night, couldn’t keep anything down; it was rare for fae to get so sick, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t concerning. 

Even more worrisome was the fever emanating from you. Azriel could feel the heat on his shoulder and he could tell you hadn’t stopped to rest. 

“I know a healer that can help. She wouldn’t say anything to anyone,” Azriel said after a beat of silence. 

You paused your fingers in Melanie’s hair. “Do you promise?” 

The sickness had worn you down, taking the fight and fear right out of you. 

“I promise on everything. I wouldn’t bring someone here that wasn’t safe.” 

Azriel called Majda. 

Majda arrived in a few minutes, much to your surprise. Azriel had gotten the door upon her knock, his eyes catching the way your knees shook as you went to stand. 

Majda kneeled in front of the couch where you and Azriel once were, her healing magic lighting up the room. Behind her, Azriel stood with you and he watched. 

He watched your worried brow and the way you picked at your fingers. He watched the flush on your face get worse and worse as your daughter’s illness gradually got you sicker. He watched the way you tracked each of Majda’s movements, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice. 

He watched your body shake as it held you up. 

He watched his mate and saw how alone you were. 

Azriel reached up and tucked a hair behind your pointed ear, using the ploy to feel for the temperature on your cheek. You turned to look up at him and he felt the way his expression strained. 

“You should let her look at you too,” he said, voice low and calm.

You shook your head. “I’m okay. I’m fine.” 

“You aren’t.” 

You turned back to your daughter, looking on. 

Azriel no longer cared for the farce he’d been putting on. He stepped closer and let his palm rest on the small of your back if only to support you from collapsing. He saw you glance at him from the corner of your eye, but you made no move to step away. 

It took Majda 13 minutes to come to a conclusion. Azriel knew that because he had been counting. 

“Well, first of all, she will be okay. As will you, as I see you may have the same illness,” the older healer spoke, rising from the ground with a grunt. “It is most unusual—what ails you. Do you have Autumn's blood?” 

The fingers you had pressed to your mouth were abruptly dropped. You looked up to Azriel with panic in your eyes, a question clear in your expression. 

He hadn’t known where you were from, but he had guessed, and you were looking at him as if he knew—as if he knew and you wanted to know if it was safe for the healer to know as well. 

Azriel nodded his head and ignored the bittersweet feeling in his chest. 

He had wanted you to tell him when you were ready. 

“Yes,” you uttered, shaking your head much faster than you spoke. “We both are. Is that—does that have something to do with it?”

Majda offered you a thin smile. “You have Autumn fever. Something to do with the fire that lingers in your blood. Sometimes it does not align with the other courts and your body revolts. It will pass in a few days as most. Uncomfortable bugger to be sure, but nothing that cannot be managed.” 

You sagged against Azriel in relief, the shadowsinger catching your weight as your knees buckled. He pulled you closer to his front but didn’t feel complete until he guided you back to the couch and leaned over Melanie as she slept. 

“She’ll be okay?” you asked. 

Azriel thought the question was for Majda, but when he looked to his side you were staring directly at him, fear and fever in your gaze. 

He lost his breath and captured your face in his hands. “She’ll be okay,” he assured. You were so hot against his skin. “You will too. I’ll fix it.” 

Something righted in your expression—something softened. For the first time since he entered your house, you let out a full breath and allowed your eyelids to drop. It was barely thirty seconds before your head fell as well, your forehead landing on Azriel’s collarbone. He trailed his hand up to rest against your hair and placed his other on Melanie’s knee as he stayed beside the couch. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Shadowsinger,” Majda crooned. “That’s a whole lot of responsibility. A lot of secrets.” 

Azriel tightened his hold on you. “Do you have herbs that would help? To lessen fever or pain?” 

Majda hummed. “I will leave a few.” A pause. The floorboards creaked as Majda went to make her exit. “Heed my words, Azriel.” 

“I know what I’m doing—what I’m getting myself into.” He dropped his nose to your temple, listening to your breath as you slept. His shadows continued their mission of cooling Melanie’s feverish skin. 

“Do you?” 

Azriel considered the question, and no, he didn’t know. 

But he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

part five

[misserabella]

needy ellie that loves your tits so much

she needs to fuck them?

ellie williams x fem! reader!

cw; +18 content! minors dni!!, dove fucking (r! receiving), oral sex (e! receiving), face fucking (r! receiving), praise kink, use of good girl, cursing, cum play, cum eating, nipple and tit play, begging…

she’s kissing at them, tongue out as she laps at your nipples, long cold fingers groping at the fat of your tits in need, in hunger.

“perfect fucking tits.” she’d mutter, her pupils wide. “love your tits so much baby.” you’d tug at her hair, moaning at her touch and kisses. “want to fuck them so bad…” she muttered against your skin, a bruise on the swell of your breast.

you sighed, your back arching and mind reeling at the thought of her fucking your chest. “do it.” you breathed out, and her green fern eyes locked onto yours.

“yeah?” she inquired, her tongue drawing circles on your nipple, teasing you.

“yeah.” you whimpered. “fuck my tits, el.” she was quick to move then, taking off her tank top —leaving her beautiful and perky tits exposed to your hungry eyes— and getting on her knees, her fingers breaching her briefs to pull them down her lean thighs and throwing them onto the floor of your bedroom. she straddled you, making her way up to your chest until her mound stood right in front of you, her slick folds making your mouth water.

“you like it? like to see how wet you’ve got me?” two of her fingers came in between her thighs to part her folds and give you a better view of the mess her cunt had become. you moaned, nodding.

“want it on me, want you to come on me.” you bit down on your lip, arching your back in an attempt to bring her closer to your tits.

“yeah? you want me to cum on those pretty tits of yours baby? make a mess out of you?” you nodded.

“yes, please…” you sweetly begged, making her groan as her pussy pulsed.

“now, how can i say no to you when you ask for it like that?” you sighed at the feeling of her slick smearing itself on your chest as she sat on it, with a grunt snapping her hips against your breasts, moaning as her clit caught against one of your nipples. “fuuuck baby.” she sighed as she started to slowly rock her hips against you, sweet wet smacks of her cunt against your skin filling the room and your ears.

your hands came up to her own chest, playing with her tits, knowing how sensitive they were. the auburn haired moaned, her hands coming up to yours, squeezing them. you whined at the sight, needy to taste her, to make her feel good.

“use me.” you begged. she looked down at you. “please, use me.”

“you want me to use you, pretty?” you nodded, one of her hands coming down to your jaw, her thumb on your bottom lip. “then why don’t you open your mouth for me, hm? wanna ride your face for a little.” you were quick to pull out your tongue, showing it to her, eager for a taste. “look at you, so fucking needy…” she smirked, moving up slightly to take a seat on your mouth, moaning at the warmth, at the wetness… “good girl…” she breathily said, rocking her hips, fucking your face and mouth. “good fucking girl, fuck.” she cursed, her free hand coming to your hair as the other incited you to massage her breast, what you happily did as you sucked on her clit.

you hummed against her pussy, slurping up her juices, your tongue sliding in between her folds just to then wrap your lips around her clit and suck. over and over again, making her whimper, moan, groan and shiver… anything you could get out of her you’d get.

you’d stare up into her eyes through your eyelashes, doe pretty eyes hungry to please her.

she hissed when she felt that warmth spreading on her lower stomach, getting away from your mouth, hearing you whine in response. “i wanna cum on your chest, baby. cream up your pretty little tits.” she hushed you, getting back to her previous seat in your breasts, crashing her clit against your skin and nipples. “shit. feels so good… gonna cum so hard on you, princess.” she moaned, her rhythm becoming sloppier, losing consistency. your other hand came to her free breast, tweaking the nipple, the stimulation finally making her reach her peak, making her moan, grunt and huff as she came all over your chest, her cum spreading all over your shiny skin. once she had came down from her high she got off of you to kiss you, deeply tasting herself from your mouth before her lips would trail her way down your neck to your slicked chest.

“what are you doing?” you moaned, your back arching as her lips sucked on your nipples, her tongue cleaning up her cum from your breasts. a smirk showed on her plush lips before she answered to your question.

“licking you clean.”

[alchemistc]

He likes occupying the same space as Tommy. It's - every time he looks across a room and sees him he just wants all the space between them to disappear. And - okay - yeah - Tommy has, like occupied space inside of Buck so there's - there's a little Pavlovian tic somewhere in the goo Tommy's smile can turn his brain into but also -

He likes the way it feels when they're side by side - naked or clothed - and Tommy arches his shoulder to smack it into Buck's. He likes the way his eyes dart, when they're breathing the same air and he's thinking about kissing Buck - which is a look he relishes now as much for the knowledge that he's about to be kissed as for the knowledge that he'd seen this look a half dozen times before they ever got to the kissing part. He likes the way Tommy occupies Buck's space - never overbearing but always close, close, close like if Buck asked they'd melt pieces of themselves and stick them together before everything cooled back down. He likes the way they can't quite hold hands without their arms brushing, and the way Tommy ducks his head when Buck exaggerates a flirty head tilt.

He likes a lot of things about Tommy.

He likes the way he grudgingly enters a gay bar because it's not really his scene and ends the night with a drag queens feather boa wrapped around his neck while he sings the Gaga parts of Shallow even if he gets a little pitchy.

He likes the way Tommy boops his nose, out of the blue while he's listening to Buck explain something that has no bearing on either one of them or the thing they're working towards together - still listening with rapt attention but also a little devastatingly charmed by Buck's rambles, of all things.

He likes the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs, soft and genuine, the way when he's really feeling it the ears draw back too.

He likes the way he sounds, that first time (and every time after) Buck found his prostate and he whined like a fucking siren.

He likes the way his face softens even when he's tired, worn around the edges as Buck flings a sock into his laundry basket and tucks his head up under Tommy's chin.

He hates the way Tommy shuts down every time Buck tries to bring up the future.

And it's not like - it's not like Buck isn't aware they'd sort of speed run some milestones. House keys swapped with the sort of flippancy you'd expect out of two guys whose schedules rarely lined up. A drawer in Bucks's loft for the clothes Tommy always left behind, because for some reason he liked to fling them over the balcony instead of stuff them back in his overnight bag. A toothbrush at Tommy's a month and a half in, which wouldn't be all that strange except for he'd gone out of his way to buy the same electric one Buck had in his bathroom vanity. The pin to each others phones, swapped and repeated until it was muscle memory and three weeks ago Buck had grabbed the wrong phone but he'd seen the lock screen of the two of them from their hike in Fern Dell and he'd punched the code in like it was rote before he'd even been fully awake.

Tommy'd hit a wall, though, the first time Buck brought up his lease. And it wasn't - Buck isn't always the best about understanding the shit going on in his own head, but he actually hadn't been going any particular direction there, it'd just been something to fill the lull that had popped in his head and -

Of course, when Tommy froze the fuck up Buck decided to poke at it like a particularly nasty yellowing bruise.

Kids - not his own, just the nebulous idea of them. (Tommy shifted to a conversation about cars so smoothly it'd taken Buck half an hour to notice.)

Marriage - not his own thoughts about it, just that Bobby and Athena had an anniversary coming up and man didn't it suck that Maddie and Chim never got the wedding they wanted and he'd gone to one once in Montana and it'd been in a barn and they'd had candles in Mason jars for their centerpieces before that was the thing to do. (Tommy booped his nose and scrunched his face and held out a ladle of tomato sauce for Buck to try and - son of a bitch he'd known it needed more acid and that Buck would get distracted with recipe talk.)

Homes - the idea of them. Tommy's century old ranch style rental and how it fit him, Bobby and Athena's hunt for a new home, how quiet Eddie's always felt without Chris there, and Tommy had spent an hour listing off all the things he'd fixed up for his landlady and the rent she'd been stubbornly stuffing back through his mail slot every time she found out exactly how much the labor alone for a full copper repipe cost.

So it's.

He's just.

He hates that he's about to do this, here, with his ankle hooked by Tommy's toes under the table at Micelli's when they're supposed to be enjoying six months but he's been on edge for weeks now and he's - God he wants this to work but if Tommy doesn't want to talk future then are they just gonna spend their whole lives stumbling into the next milestone? He doesn't want -

"I had something I wanted to ask -," Tommy starts, right as Buck opens his big mouth and blurts, "I want kids and that's kind of a deal breaker for me."

Tommy blinks.

Buck blinks back.

Not much better than Hot Chicks, as far as Buck is concerned. But Tommy's mouth quirks at the corners, and he jiggles his toes against the back of Buck's ankle, and -

Tommy blows out a breath. "Oh thank God."

"What?"

So he's -

Buck's confused.

"You've been fishing for months now and I thought you were..." Tommy grimaces. When he leans forward to reach for Buck's hand, his arms are tense and his fingers are clumsy. "I thought we'd gone too fast and you were throwing us in reverse and stepping on the gas."

"What," Buck says again, and rewinds.

Kids: where he'd tried to drop the bomb that there was one out in the world who already had half his genetic code and then blazed along to talk about how Chris was his favorite person in the world and Maddie had struggled with Jee and the whole foster debacle made him terrified of all the stress involved in state sanctioned parenthood.

Marriage: where he'd made some dumb joke about how many marriages ended in divorce and then reminded Tommy how much he hated the fact that weddings cost like a third of a years salary, and then told a horrendous anecdote about the way Eddie had asked Buck to come by one night after Shannon only to find him keyed up out back, with the fire pit going and Shannon's things still tucked into their plastic bag on a stool right next to it.

Home: where he'd told Tommy the house in Hershey was like a prison and he'd never felt more himself than wandering the continent trying to find himself and how the loft was suffocatingly open and of the two places where he always felt welcome, one had burned down and the other had been missing an occupant for so long it had felt sad and oppressive.

Foot in mouth Buckley.

"I brought up my lease and you looked like you were trying to figure out if you could hurdle three tables in one leap to get to the door."

Tommy groans. It's. Buck wants to be annoyed by it but he's charmed as ever.

"That - I did do that."

"So. I'm just. Tommy, I..." Because he's given himself time to think about it, since then, and he really doesn't want to re-up his lease but he's also not sure where to go from here.

"It wasn't what you're thinking, though," Tommy says, and there's a wry tilt to his grin. "Irene wants to sell me the house," he continues, and - there's got to be a point, here.

"Okay."

He likes that house. The lived in feel, the easy walk to a little public market where Buck can always find something healthy and Tommy can always come home with a growler of some new craft beer, the avocado tree in the yard and the renovations Tommy has spent half a decade on.

"When you brought it up I'd just spent two weeks trying to convince myself it was too early to ask you if you wanted to sign up for a mortgage with me."

Six months. A redo of their first embarrassing date. The wine, instead of pitchers of beer. I had something I wanted to ask -

"I want to be married, someday," Buck says, and Tommy's thumb skitters over his wrist. "And - the kid thing. That's still a deal breaker."

Tommy nods. Maybe not a surprise, but - still. That feels important.

"I still don't understand equity," Buck says, and Tommy. Tommy laughs.

"I can teach you," he says, and Buck swallows. He wants to call the waitress over, ask for too many canolli because Tommy's sweet tooth is a tyrant and Buck is still mystified by how he manages to always be so trim despite the amount of sugar he consumes.

Buck narrows his eyes. "How long a mortgage?"

He has a settlement from the city that's just been sitting around, mocking Buck for years. It'd make a good dent even with LA real estate. Tommy smiles. "Oh, 30 years, for sure, but we could refinance at least a few times."

"That's - a long time."

"Housing bubble might pop soon, and then we'd just be stuck in it."

"It's good we both have dependable government jobs."

Tommy's eyes crinkle, but his face gets serious after a moment. "Evan."

"Ask me."

Maddie's gonna fucking flip, Buck thinks. Eddie is definitely gonna give him a side eye. Bobby - Bobby will get it, probably.

Tommy hums. "You wanna share the tiramisu?" His grin is just this side of teasing, and Buck knocks a knee into his in retaliation. His eyes go soft and warm. "You wanna buy a house with me, Buckley?"

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - So the hunt begins.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader. Omega has a shotgun, I REPEAT, Omega has a shotgun. Mentions of violence.

Prologue Chapter 1

The others looked at Gaz like he had finally lost his marbles but only Soap was the one to speak up and say, "Ye've gone and lost yer mind."

Gaz shook his head and grabbed Soap's wrist, forcing him to kneel down and smell the old blood. He waited for his reaction and Soap sat back, his cold blue eyes wide.

"A 'mega out here? After all this time..." Soap looked to Price and Ghost who both exchanged looks. Price rolled his shoulders and Ghost seemed to relax just a little.

"Well, if there is one we should go and find them," Price finally said.

"And where would that be?" Soap asked but his eyes had already trailed over to the forest at the edge of the town. Large enough to hide a place for an omega to hide.

You triple checked the trap you just set, making sure the string was hidden and that it was ready to go off for the poor alpha's that made the mistake of coming onto your land. Your territory had been littered with traps for years though some had gone into disrepair due to your own negligence.

No matter, you thought as you layered more leaves on top to conceal the pit below, you're sure you'll get them with this.

Back when libraries hadn't been mere ruins with musty, rain ruined books you had developed a small fascination with the tactics and traps the Vietnam soldiers had left for the American ones. Nasty, down right awful traps but they drove America out of their country and you were intent to do the same to these alphas.

But even as you thought about the harm you would bring down upon them like a vengeful goddess, your inner omega had started to awaken more. She scratched and whined at the idea of there not only being one but four alphas near by. After years of nothing but your own fingers and the old dildo, your inner omega was desperate for something.

Yet, there was also confliction.

Yes, the deep seeded desire to be bred by four burly alphas was there but also a certain feral aspect bubbled closer to the surface. This is our land, your omega hissed, ours and they've entered it. We smelt them. They haven't left. She pushed you to make more traps, set deadlier ones.

An agreement had been made, or a compromise. Get the alpha's off your land and if one of them survived, keep him. What the next step would be, neither you or your omega had thought about that. Or if all of them survived.

A twig snapped to your left and it yanked you from your thoughts immediately. You hastily covered the trap further before you scrambled up a near by tree and waited. You fought to scratch at the dried mud caked onto your scent glands. It was damn near stifling. Worse then the stuffing in your nose.

You waited, heart pounding in your chest as you kept listening for more signs. Nothing. You let yourself breathe again and slide down from the tree you had perched in. Then you heard them, eight feet tramped down snow and broke twigs under their weight.

They were so loud.

You turned your head just in time to see a hat above a fern and a peak of something black behind it. Your hand found your shotgun with practiced ease and you stepped back and over your trap for more protection. Then they emerged from the bushes.

May the strongest alpha win

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[unholyhelbig]

More Wandanat pls 😊

Title: Are you Avoiding me?

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2935

Warnings: pet names, sexual situations implied, broken glass, and horrible spelling (I don't proofread).

Summary: It's becoming harder and harder for reader to avoid both Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. Things only get worse when they're cornered in their lab.

[A/n: This is just a little drabble, that's been sitting in my drafts for months, nothing with too much sustinance! I've been distracting myself lately with Wenclair content instead of writing]

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There were thousands of mugs with Shield’s logo on the side that floated around the compound, changing hands between agents and the high-ranking Avengers. It’s why you felt less bad about dropping the one in your grasp to the floor. It shattered into dozens of pieces, and the rest of the pale coffee you were drinking seeped out of the wreckage.

“Ow! Why? Why?” Clint’s voice had turned to a growl by the end of his sentence. He had righted himself and gripped his own mug to his chest, leveling you with a glare that was much too vicious this early in the morning.

The words were trapped in your throat and you dropped down behind the kitchen island, pressing yourself close enough to the wood to become apart of the grain. If you could just hide long enough for them to wander away, then all would be well.

The archer glanced down at you, and then back to the hallway that passed the communal kitchen. Natasha Romanoff had her brow furrowed, lifting a sculped eyebrow at him. She had just come back from her morning run, a fine sheen of sweat coating her muscles. He gave her a shrug and that was enough encouragement to send her on her way.

You let out a long sigh at the sound of her footsteps retreating. “Don’t look at me like that, Barton.”

“I can look at you anyway I want to, you’re the one that would rather be on the ground than talk to Natasha.”

It wasn’t just talking to Natasha. It was looking at her too; breathing the same air as her, meeting her fern-colored eyes across the room and ceasing to have a tangible thought pattern. You were an Avenger, for fucks sake, an ex-KGB spy shouldn’t make you fumble the way that you did.

“It’s not that hard, y/n. She’s harmless, really.”

That was easy for him to say. You huffed quietly and picked up the broken pieces of mug before depositing them into the trashcan. Coffee would make you too jittery anyway. So, if you really thought about it, your nerves had done you a favor.

“She’s terrifying.” You said, reaching for an empty glass. You filled it up with tap water and tentatively took a sip. It went down clunky and cold. “And gorgeous.”

“A combination that renders you absolutely useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Clint lifted both of his eyebrows at you, not saying a word. He didn’t have to. And you didn’t need all of this judgement from him in the first place. He had been so scared of Natasha that he couldn’t bring her in, in the first place. He would tell it differently, but you didn’t stick around to find out.

There were other things that you had to do; like a mountain of paperwork and a few modifications to the Vibranium arm that had found its way onto your desk. A cold shower wouldn’t do you any harm either. And if your fingers were to wander? No one would know.

You flashed him the middle finger, abandoning all thoughts of nourishment for the day. Tony kept his labs stocked with bottled water and granola bars after some nagging from Pepper. That would hold you over until lunch and if you started to drift, there were plenty of electrical sources that would give you a low-grade jolt.

Most of the time, you kept your head down, earbuds in even if they weren’t playing music. It was easier not to get caught up in the fanfare of the Avengers. Most of them were human, and they made human mistakes even if they weren’t.

You answered your superiors and fixed any problems that arose with tech and machinery, sometimes even costuming. Those things were simple, cut and dry. Your feelings for Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff weren’t even slightly that.

There was admiration from afar, and Clint would even say a numbness that clouded your brain completely. That celebrity that all other agents produced around any of the spandex wearing heroes often evaded you.

But each time Wanda stepped through the doors of your lab to get a personal watch fixed, or once, a VHS player that had the scent of smoke and burning plastic. She’d jutted out her lower lip when a copy of ‘I Love Lucy’ was burnt to a crisp.

Despite your meager salary, you had found one at the thrift and set it outside her door without a word. Not a romantic gesture, Clint. You should have seen her face. It was something you’d do as a friend, a co-worker.

Your shoulder collided with something strong, yet soft. There was a small grunt released from the back of your throat. You got a mouthful of the scent of rain and vanilla tobacco. But strong hands were suddenly gripping your forearms, keeping you steady.

Your eyes widened and met with curious hazel ones. You thought you gave Natasha enough time to get back to her room. But here she was, in that tight tank top, sweat drenching the collar. She looked beautiful, the lights overhead hitting her.

Agent Romanoff reached up and pulled one of your earbuds out, letting it hang loose against your chest. “Doctor y/l/n, are you avoiding me?”

“Avoiding?” You laughed with a little too much force, compensating for the lost air by snorting and instantly regretting it. A light blush fell over your cheeks. She didn’t look mad, in fact, she looked quite amused. “No, no. I’m not avoiding.”

“So, what would you call ducking down behind the counter in the kitchen?”

“How did you…”

“I’m a superspy and you’re not exactly subtle.”

Yeah. You’d forgotten about that. She didn’t’ allude to the fact, simply continuing on her way and leaving you to your horrible conversation with Clint. But then she had waited in front of your lab, her own clearance not allowing her past the sliding doors without you in it.

She lilted her head to the side “Don’t worry about it, it’s actually rather adorable.”

The heat against your cheeks started to spread down your neck and to your collarbone. If she noticed, and of course she noticed, she didn’t’ say anything. But she released her hold, and you fought back a whimper of disappointment.

“What can I do for you, Agent Romanoff?”

“Us, actually.” She responded, eyes darting towards the locked doors. “I’d rather talk somewhere a bit more private, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely that’s alight. If this is about the Widow Bites that I redesigned then I can most definitely tweak them. We don’t want you to get a jolt every time you use them. Not that I’m saying you’re not skilled enough to avoid that,”

You kept talking as you swiped your card and it with a beep, walking into the instant familiarity of your lab. There was a coolness there for tactical purposes, but it washed over your heated skin and hopefully took some of the soft color away.

You started to flit around the lab, flicking on all the lights and the different purifiers. There was an experiment that Fitz was working on that needed a rotating heat source and that was turned on as well.

“If we remove the outer panel and with a little tweaking, we can make them non-lethal, heavy with stopping power. They can break up under the sub-cutaneous tissue-“

Again, you ran into Natasha. Her body was so warm and solid, stable compared to the way you buzzed about. The door had slid shut behind you, its frosted glass exterior shielding you from the rest of the world.

This time you didn’t’ rush to apologize, instead you pushed your glasses up to the center of your nose and stared at her in a comfortable silence. “This wasn’t about your widow bites. You said us.”

She nodded at you, suddenly seeming quite shy herself. You’d never seen her avert her gaze before and something about the reaction worried you. Your stomach was doing somersaults, flipping back and forth between pure panic and excitement. This was the longest you two had spent in one another’s space without you bolting from the room.

“For the past six months I’ve been involved in a sexual relationship with Wanda Maximoff.”

“Uh,”

It was the only word that you could muster. Thoughts that flushed your cheeks all over again ran through your mind; bare breasts pressed against each other, lips hungrily clashing, hands raking up perfectly toned muscles. Your eyes were hazy with lust, but you blinked it away just as fast as it had settled. Natasha ghosted a smirk regardless.

“It was purely sexual, we both needed to blow off some steam. I’m sure you know how that is.”

On nights when you needed to ‘blow off steam’, you went into the empty training room and ran for six miles before taking a stark cold shower to loosen your muscles. When you ran, you forgot about the dip of Natasha’s collarbone and the dexterity of Wanda’s fingers.

Now that you thought about it, there were signs that the two of them had something and why shouldn’t they? Subtle touches that led to more. The tenderness in Natasha’s eyes betrayed more. If she hadn’t noticed yet, you weren’t going to be the one to tell her.

“It was fun for a while, a supply closet here, the gym floor there. But going on month seven it’s almost losing its… spark.”

“I’m sorry?” You were cautious with your words, and she giggled, the Black Widow herself was giggling at you.

“I’m not so good at this.”

“You’re good at everything.”

She smiled “Wanda insisted that I come and talk to you first because you’re skittish. Moreso around her than me. She was upset when I told her you let me stay the afternoon in here last week, just watching you work.” 

Each move you made that day was languid. There was a nervousness to you that seemed to vanish when you could open up the back of a monitor and stare at the innerworkings. You were recruited right out of MIT, and though you had been offered more than one job, you jumped at the idea of working in the Stark tower, living here.

She worked her hand through her hair and sighed “see, not so good at this.”

“What exactly is this?”

Natasha furrowed her brow and a small crease formed between her eyebrows in response. You wanted to reach up and smooth it away with the subtle touch of your thumb. That part wasn’t complicated, not like people usually were.

So, you did just that, you touched the pad of your finger to her soft, warm skin and pressed until the tension started to leave her body. Natasha’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and moved your hand until you cupped her cheek. She sighed into the embrace; eyes closed for more than a single moment.

“I want you, y/n.” She mumbled against the palm of your hand, turning it to the side and delivering a single kiss to the pulse point on your wrist. You were sure that she could feel the quickness in which it thrummed. “So does Wanda.”

You were dizzy, suddenly glad for her hold on you. Months, close to a year, you had spent ducking behind counters and taking the long way back to your dorm. They were both stunning to an intimidating degree, to the point where it devastated you.

“Say something, please” Natasha whispered, voice breaking “I know this is a lot and you can absolutely decline. We can forget this conversation ever happened and you can go back to breaking coffee mugs.”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t want to go back to breaking coffee mugs. I think Clint is running a tab, and Mr. Stark isn’t exactly generous with our salaries.”

A grin spread across Natasha’s face. It was like being wrapped in a warm towel after a long day in the rain. You’d do anything to make her smile. You were in down bad, not that you’d admit it to Bird Boy.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, not trusting your ability to vocalize anything right now. Her lips were on yours, soft and tender. She kissed you slowly, with purpose. The two of you savored the moment, a sigh of extasy escaping you, your arms winding around her shoulders, hers pressing against your spine.

Natasha broke the embrace, staring hazily at you. That cocky smile had turned into a wonderstruck and borderline goofy one. Have you broken the superspy? She’d certainly made you waver. You were effectively rendered silent.

“Oh, sweet girl, how easy it is to fluster you.” Natasha pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I fear that a certain witch is lurking just close enough for you to open the door.”

It slid open on its own with a dejected beep. You glanced down at the pocket of your lab coat, badge still attached. A small pout made its way to your lips but softened when Wanda stalked into the mostly empty lab, you felt your defenses lower.

The remnants of red twirled around her fingers- and god, you didn’t mean to stare, but they held a power to them. With Natasha slotted against your body, the primal scent of her, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Oh, how good they’d feel on your tongue.

A pink blush crept up her collarbone and at the tips of her ears. Wanda raised a perfectly sculpted brow at you. There was no doubt in your mind that your thoughts were loud enough for her to hear them. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit. You’d never imagine being this bold with either of them, but the kiss with Natasha had left you heady, greedy for more.

“Have you been able to do that the whole time?” You panted out, watching the door slide shut once more.

“Well, yes. But I respect your privacy… to an extent. You have quite the dirty mind, don’t you?”

“I… you… no!”

You pulled away from Natasha, crossing your arms over your chest. If you weren’t careful, your glasses would fog up just by being in the same vicinity as them both. Sure, there had been a few times where you’d let your mind wander; images of Wanda shoving you against the wall, pinning your arms above your head.

Natasha taking you over the lab table that you made sure was meticulous in every single way each night before you left. The thought of them taking control was alluring, tantalizing. You thought all the time, too much about every move you made. You didn’t want to admit that you’d welcome not thinking at all, even if it was only for a few moments.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Wanda soothed.

“That’s why Stark keeps me in the basement.”

She’d gotten impossibly close. You could smell the lavender shampoo that often accompanied her. They were both taller than you, though, not by much. Your breath still hitched in your throat at her proximity. Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, lilting her head to the side in a way that made your knees feel unstable.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, and a smile moved across her lips. “You need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Wanda.” Natasha wrapped her arms around your midsection, resting her chin against your shoulder. You felt the incredible warmth she provided, nearly sighing into it. “This is a lot to take in. Baby steps.”

You couldn’t tell which of the two held more control over the situation, but didn’t much care when you felt Wanda’s breath hot against your lips. She closed the distance and you kissed until it stung, until your lungs were begging for air. A desperate noise that you had never made before escaped you when she broke the embrace.

All the while, the calloused pads of Natasha’s fingers were running softly over the expanse of skin between your waistband and shirt. Her touch was so delicate and impossibly warm compared to the coolness of the lab.

Natasha hugged you closer, and you allowed her to. Everything about both women surrounding you screamed control. The darkness that settled over Wanda’s stare made a wetness pool between your thighs. You squeezed them together in an attempt of subtly.

It was like fooling a seer. They could read your body like an open book and you clenched your eyes shut but could still feel the grin that stretched across Natasha’s face in the crook of your neck. It would be so easy to give up control to them.

“Does anyone else have the key to your lab?” Wanda purred, her hand splayed on your chest in a startling grounding motion. Your eyes snapped open, hazy with lust.

You were breathless, stunned. “Just you.”

Wanda’s head tilted, her tongue darting out against her bottom lip. Chills pushed down your spine, Natasha’s hold tightening around your center. You were sure that you’d catch flame right there and wake up from this dream. But neither of them vanished when you blinked.

“Good. What’s your safe word, darling?”

Natasha’s grin was nothing short of wolfish. She squeezed both of your hips possessively, hauling you with a spy’s quickness onto the nearest counter. You nudged a white mug with a SHIELD logo on the front. It fell to the floor, shattered into a million different pieces.

 None of that seemed to matter.