#and i learned that by killing everything then slightly less of everything year by year lmao

[cascadianights]

A partner gave me a pitcher plant 2 weeks ago and I have KEPT IT ALIVE INDOORS so far

[dolche-tejada]

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he have Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best he could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[visionofhope04]

Here for the angst of neglected batsis, imagine or hc them of moving out if the house when they are 18 and let's say they meet some spirit and they have their memory wiped and transfer to the marvel universe to restart their life and more happy, then the dc/marvel merge together because of a big threat and batfam sees batsis is heavily pregnant and married to our favorite deadpool charater Colossus?

How would they reached if batsis just can't remember them and keeps on telling them they have the wrong person?

I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK. Guess who's back!! Sorry it took me so long to get this out, I haven't had the motivation to write until recently. Also OOC warning bc I don't really know him well besides the Deadpool movies. I almost freaked out bc I haven't used the tumblr website in so long and it got updated so I thought I lost all my drafts. So glad they're still here, whew. Not beta read so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes!

---

It's been a year since moving into your apartment and you couldn't be happier. College was going well and you were taking classes you enjoyed. However, you haven't made any friends yet which led you to spend your free time reading or surfing the web. Jason didn't come by much due to having his own life and vigilante things, which you understood. It didn't mean you couldn't be a little bit sad about it though.

Even though you were enjoying your life, you still felt as if there was something missing. You'd been trying to figure out why you had felt this way but nothing came to mind. Any time you tried to brush off the feeling, it came back stronger. You did your best to ignore it and continue on with life, but it was always there, nagging you.

It had been a long day. College was so stressful. Your professors kept hurling projects at you that had deadlines that were practically impossible to meet. You just wanted it to end already and be on summer break. Then, you’d be able to sleep how long you wanted to without the fear of being late for class or forgetting to complete an assignment.

You sat down at your desk and pulled out your laptop, preparing to continue an essay that was due in three days. Suddenly, you began to feel nauseous. Confused, you attempted to ignore the feeling in favor of completing the essay. A few seconds after trying to focus on your laptop screen, you saw a bright light.

"My child, you will be saved from this life." A strangely comforting voice said.

Then everything faded to black.

---

"Hello?!"

A voice. A voice? But you live alone and no one has the spare key to your apartment. You slowly opened your eyes, groaning and quickly shutting them again once a bright light blinded you.

"Oh you're alive, thank God. Can you speak?" Whoever this was seemed to have been panicking before, slightly less though now that you had indicated you were alive. You groan as you push yourself up off of what seems to be concrete. Concrete? You're definitely not in your apartment. You crack your eyes open again, this time with less difficulty, and come face to face with white lenses of a mask. Blinking again, you register that the lenses are attached to a red material with black lines.

"Ah!"

"AH!" The figure yells and jumps back, startled by your sudden surprise.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" You asked, tilting your head slightly to the side.

"What do you mean? I'm Spiderman." His voice was a bit high pitched, he sounded like a teen at most.

"Spiderman? You've got to be joking. There is no Spiderman. Go home kid, crime fighting isn't a game." Sure, you may be a hypocrite, seeing as you are an ex-assassin who began learning how to kill at around 5, but at least you had training. What did this Spiderman have? From how startled he was, you assumed he had barely been trained, if at all.

“What? I'm literally Spiderman! I'm Queens' hero!"

"Queens, New York?" You thought you'd still be in New Jersey at least.

"Uh yeah. I don't think there are any other places called Queens that have a Spiderman."

"Again, Spiderman? Seriously? You couldn't think of a better name at least?"

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with Spiderman!"

"Sure kid, keep telling yourself that."

He was about to protest when suddenly, someone else dropped into the alley.

"Hey Spidey, who's this lovely lady?" A person in an all red with black suit with two swords on his back and guns strapped to his waist called out. The person seemed to be a male, around 30 years old.

"This 'lovely lady' is very confused. Who are you?" They keep multiplying, and you'd never seen this person either.

"Did you hit your head or something? You've never heard of or seen Deadpool? The most handsomest, most awesomest, funniest, killer crime fighter?"

"Uh nope. Also, I'm from Jersey, how did I end up here?"

"Good question. What's your name?"

"Oh, it's-" You stopped in confusion. "I actually don't remember. It was just at the tip of my tongue but I don't remember."

"Oh great! Amnesia! Just what we need. I'll let you handle her Spidey and I'll go stop some bad guys, 'kay?"

"What! No, don't leave me here!" Deadpool was already sprinting away.

"Let's get you to the base. Colossus and the others will know what to do."

---

They did not, in fact, know what to do. Colossus sent Negasonic and Yukio to contact Professor X, while Spiderman went to contact Tony Stark (I'm still emotionally scarred from Endgame so no, he won't be dead, this is my fanfic and I can keep him alive if I want to) and Deadpool went back out to patrol. You were left alone with Colossus.

Uncomfortable silence sat between you. Just as you were beginning to get antsy, Colossus broke it first.

"Do you remember anything at all?"

"I'm... a college student. I live alone in an apartment in New Jersey, I think. I used to fight crime until... I don't know, it's fuzzy. I'm an ex-assassin who has been training since I was 5. That's all I remember."

"You can remember that but not your name?"

"Look, I don't know okay? I don't know what's happening or why I can't remember anything else. I want to remember who I am, but I can't. And it's so... so frustrating! Your suspicion is understandable, but it is not helping."

"I apologize. This is a stressful situation for you. I will be more considerate."

"Thank you."

---

They could not figure out what happened to you or why you suddenly appeared in Queens one day. Your memory remained fuzzy, so you were stuck. As time passed, you and Colossus grew closer. You became so close that he told you his real name, you became a couple, and you got married. Seven years passed, you were 25 and you'd been trying for a baby. You both felt the time was right and that you'd be able to handle parenting.

Colossus came home from work one day, spent and tired. There you were, waiting for him at the door as usual.

"Hi my love, long day?" You fiddled with the positive pregnancy test behind your back.

"Yes darling, when is it not?"

"Well, we're going to have to figure something out, because there's no way I'll wake up every night to take care of our baby."

He looked confused, then realization hit. "You're..?" He looked so happy and hopeful, you couldn't contain your happiness. A huge smile lit up your face.

"Yes, we're finally going to be parents!" You pulled out the pregnancy test and held it up to him.

He laughed a joyful laugh, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes as he embraced you. It must've been infectious because you began to tear up too. You remained in each other's embrace for a while, just existing in the moment. Time felt irrelevant as you basked in your shared delight.

---

8 months later, your belly had swollen and grown. Everyone was happy for the both of you. You and Colossus were both eager for your little one to arrive. You'd both decided to wait for birth to find out the gender. It didn't matter to you whether it was a boy or girl, just that they were healthy (gender's a construct anyway). The pregnancy had been going great so far, but this time of easy-going was about to get ruined by your husband's job.

---

Your world had merged with another because of some cosmic threat. Great! Your husband would be preoccupied trying to fix the situation, which meant that you'd be alone. Selfishly, you wished that they could let your husband stay with you so close to your due date, but you knew he had a role to play in saving two worlds.

Seeing your loneliness, Colossus decided to bring you with him to the Avengers' base. He hoped you'd be able to befriend some of the people there. You entered the compound and your eyes were drawn to some men standing beside a set of double doors. They all had suits on, black hair (one guy had two white streaks in his hair) and most had blue eyes, except for one man who had green eyes. He was also noticeably the darkest of the group. They felt familiar to you, especially the man with green eyes. Have you met them before? Who were they?

As your husband was discussing some details about the meeting, you couldn't help but watch the group of men. Not knowing why you thought you knew them annoyed you. As if they could feel your eyes on them (they could), they turned around in sync and locked eyes with you.

Their eyes widened and they all exclaimed your name in various degrees of disbelief. They rushed over to you and your husband protectively stepped in front of you

"How do you know my wife?"

"Wife?!" Some of them shouted. They were beginning to cause a scene.

"You're pregnant." The one with green eyes observed. He seemed to be having some sort of crisis.

All their eyes darted to your belly, making you uncomfortable. You placed your hand over your stomach and attempted to discretely hide behind your husband. This did not go unnoticed by them.

"You don't remember us?" The shortest of them questioned.

"No, I've never met you guys." You were very confused.

The man who appeared to be the oldest said your name. You stared at him as he studied your eyes, presumably to see if you were lying. It made you feel vulnerable and unsettled, couldn't they leave you alone?

"We're your family."

The guy with the white streaks in his hair scoffed. "You didn't treat her like she was family. I was the only one who cared for her when she was younger while you all ignored her and let her suffer. I'm glad she doesn't remember what you all did to her. She's clearly living a much better life without you lot in it."

This was getting more confusing by the second, although you felt there was truth to his words. Did you forget these people? They seemed very convincing if they were lying.

"I'm sorry but I really don't remember you guys. Maybe you have the wrong person?"

"No we don't! You disappeared one day and now that we've finally found you, you're saying you forgot everything!"

"That is enough. Please leave my wife alone, she does not know you, and she does not need the unnecessary stress of trying to remember people she's never met. Do not approach her anymore." Colossus guided you away from the men, who stared longingly at you. The heartbroken expressions they had after your husband's speech would follow you often. Were you sure you'd never met them before?

---

Words: 1,847

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello! I enjoy your writing. Could you write something about Donna and reader already being in a relationship and someone trying to break in at night or something and hurt reader, therefore hurt Donna? Donna tortures and kills the intruder in front of reader, kind of scaring her but reassures her she would never hurt her. Angst/fluff perhaps?

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your words!!!! Thanks for your request too, I hope it isn't too dark... Anyway, I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Safe and sound

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dark themes, slightly dark Donna, Minors DNI, mentions of violence, angst but with a happy ending, Donna being Donna, fluff

Word count: 8,639

Summary: You were really scared...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

A walk through the woods was always reassuring. Feeling the fresh air, the snow, the sunlight, brought a smile to your face. Your steps were slow and your hand was intertwined with hers. Everything was perfect.

You were never a lucky girl. Your past was complicated, it had shadows that few people knew about but, luckily, they didn't devour you. Fearful and shy, those were the words that defined you. Apart from that, you were a normal, ordinary villager. A normal life, a normal family, the blessing of the Black Gods... There was nothing that could explain why that woman was walking hand in hand with you, why you were walking next to Donna Beneviento.

Perhaps it was the glint of normality in your eyes, the passive and conformist attitude of any ordinary villager that caught the attention of the youngest Lord. Your smile was nothing special, but for her it was something precious, something she should treasure, something she wanted to be hers.

You, of course, were also curious, attracted to that woman in black, to that covered face, to the serene darkness that always accompanied her. Little by little you achieved the goal of getting to know her, of discovering that most of the legends that spoke of Lady Beneviento were wrong, most of them.

Yes, she was a disturbed, sick woman, but she was also charming, she never gave you any reason to relate her name or her appearance with the word monster. Kissing her, confessing your feelings to her marked the beginning of the best stage of your life. You left the village behind, the shadows of your past, to enjoy the present.

The love you felt was intense, inexhaustible despite the jealous and extremely possessive nature of the lady in black. In any case, you would never abandon her. You would strive to make her sick mind understand that you were hers, only hers.

Despite those flaws, surely due to years of horrible loneliness, Donna was everything to you, just as you were to her. She was beautiful, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. Her scar was of no importance. Visible or not, you all had some kind of scar, a memory from the past that would be hard to forget.

None of that mattered to you, you simply loved her, you couldn't live without her. There was nothing more important to you than love, which can do everything, which cures everything. Little by little those jealousies became less and less frequent, although to think that they would disappear completely would be foolish.

“I love these walks,” you murmured, getting closer to the lady, leaning on her as you walked.

She leaned down to kiss you through her black veil.

“Technically it is not a walk, tesoro,” the lady whispered, laughing shyly, with that hoarse voice. Too many years of loneliness. “You are just accompanying me.”

“Yes, well…” you sighed, shaking your head. “But we’re walking at the same time, the two of us together…”

“The three of us!” Angie shrieked, Donna's irreverent doll, who walked nervously next to you. “Learn to count!”

“Yes, the three of us,” you said, rolling your eyes but not losing your smile. “Donna”

“Mm?” the lady in black murmured, looking at you through the cloth, slowing down her steps.

“Do you know what the meeting is about?” you asked curiously, sighing as the village came closer and closer, putting an end to that quiet and romantic pace.

“No,” she answered dryly, looking ahead again. “Why do you ask? I thought you weren't interested in meetings.”

“Oh, and I'm not interested in them, at all,” you joked, with a mischievous smile. “I just want to hear your voice…”

Donna laughed softly, moving out of the way, grabbing your waist and lifting her black veil so she could give you a quick kiss on the lips.

“Tesoro…” she sighed, caressing your cheek as you tried to steal a few more kisses from her. “(Y/N), the, the meeting…”

“Sorry, I can't help it,” you apologized with blushing cheeks, walking back to the village. Her response was a romantic laugh, playing with your hand as she resumed her walk.

“I don’t understand why you insist on coming with me,” she said after a few moments of comfortable silence. “You could have stayed home.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really like being alone in that big, dark house…” you said in a joking tone. Your heart started to beat faster.

“You don’t like being at home then,” Donna said, in the same tone as always, one unable to reveal for itself the feelings of the lady in black. Interpreting what she said, what she felt was the most complicated task in your relationship. You didn’t even know if one day you would be able to do it.

“Donna…” you said rolling your eyes and moving her hand in a reprimand. “You know I don’t mean that. I just don’t like being alone.”

“You're never alone,” she said, firmly establishing a comfortable truth for her, the assurance that your love wasn’t a lie. “Even if I'm not here, I'm always thinking about you, always.”

“That's romantic… And disturbing,” you whispered with a mischievous smile.

The lady in black put a hand around your waist, pushing you to walk faster.

“Me thinking about you is disturbing?” she asked distrustfully, forcing you to roll your eyes again and lean over her shoulder. “Sei la mia ragazza…”

“You know what? Let's enjoy the walk instead of talking in languages ​​I don't understand, okay, darling?” you asked, shaking your head as you bit your lip.

Of course, Donna was a strange woman, but you loved her more and more.

“Oh Mihaela,” you said once in the village, letting Donna go and walking towards your best friend.

Well, at least you wouldn't be alone wandering through the snowy landscape. You didn't know why, but the subtle growl of the lady in black made you think that she didn't like it.

“(Y/N),” the young woman said, cautiously approaching you, lowering her head before the lady in black.

“Who is this?” Donna asked with a dangerous hiss.

“Oh, right, this is Mihaela, she's my best friend,” you said with a smile, extending your hand towards the girl, who smiled politely. “Mihaela, she's…”

“I'm sure she already knows me, (Y/N),” the lady interrupted, clasping her hands in front of her body. You didn't know if it was a polite posture or on the contrary, an intimidating one.

“Y-Yes,” your friend stammered, with her head bowed. “It's, it's a pleasure, Lady Beneviento.”

“Mm,” the woman in black murmured, pulling your arm slightly to move you away from the girl.

“What's wrong?” you asked, giving Mihaela an apologetic look. “Hey, let me go, you're hurting me.”

“I'm sorry,” Donna apologized. “I thought you came to accompany me, not to hang out with that... Girl.”

“The truth is that I found her by chance. We've been friends for many years, Donna, there's no place for your jealousy here,” you said, crossing your arms. “Come on, repeat after me: there's no place for jealousy, I like you spending time with your friends while I’m in that boring meeting,” you said jokingly.

The lady sighed deeply, shaking her head.

“Va bene…” Donna murmured, bending down to pick Angie up from the ground. “But I hope to find you here when I get back.”

“Aye, mom…” you mocked, causing the lady to turn around abruptly, growling in annoyance at your comment. “Honey…” you said in a lower tone, moving closer to kiss her over the black fabric.

“Should I stay and watch the fool?” Angie asked, while the lady ran the back of her hand over your cheek, as if she was thinking about something.

“No, it's not necessary,” she finally said, pinching your skin affectionately.

“Donna,” you said when the woman turned around, walking away from you. She turned slowly, looking at you from afar. “I love you.”

Her response was a slight nod, surely followed by an imperceptible whisper that said: me too.

Laughing in a loving way, you walked back to your friend, who kept her head down.

“Hey, can you raise your head, your neck is going to hurt,” you joked, pointing ahead so she could start walking next to you.

“I'm not used to it,” Mihaela said with an embarrassed smile. “I still can't believe you're living with a Lord.”

“Bah, it's not that big of a deal,” you said, making a gesture with your hand to make it less important.

“Don't be offended, but your girlfriend is really scary,” Mihaela commented, sitting on a nearby bench.

“I'm not offended, I'm quite used to hearing it,” you said amused. “Besides, Donna is a sweetheart, it's just that people don't know her.”

“That must be it...” your friend sighed, looking at her hands, which played with each other, nervously.

Mihaela was always your best friend, you both lived close by, you played together when you were little and you shared many joys, and also suffering, one that you barely remembered.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked when you saw your friend's attitude, a bit stranger, as if she was extremely tired. “You don't look well.”

“Oh, yes, yes...” she said, avoiding your gaze. You knew her, she was lying. You raised your eyebrows to let her know that you didn't believe her words and finally, she sighed. “Well, the truth is that I don't sleep well lately.”

“Have you been having nightmares again?” you asked in a lower tone, rubbing her back in an understanding way.

Mihaela shook her head and looked around, as if she was scared.

“It's, it's nonsense,” the girl said, shy, with the same serious expression, one that was not very common in her. “It must be my imagination.”

“Ahem, you should take advantage of the fact that I'm here to tell me everything that worries you, like we always did, remember?” you said, starting to worry yourself, you didn't have a good feeling.

Your friend had a simple life, there was only one thing that could worry her that much.

“A few days ago I was taking a walk with Igor, you know, near our house and... And... The cabin on the hill, you know... The house of...” she explained, lowering the tone of her voice.

All the nerves in your body were on alert.

“Yes, I know what house you mean,” you interrupted, not wanting to bring back the ghosts of your past, some horrible ones. “What's wrong with that house?”

“Um, I... I don't want to scare you, (Y/N) but, but... I, I thought I saw someone inside,” Mihaela whispered, biting her lip.

“But, but that's impossible, it's-it's been years since anyone lived there,” you said with a trembling voice, just like your hands.

“I know, I know but...” your friend said, looking at the sky. “(Y/N), what if he's back?”

You shook your head effusively, unintentionally letting all the traumas of your past come back to the present. A knot in your stomach, cold sweats... Symptoms that you already knew began to punish you.

“N-No, I don't think so, he, he died,” you said nervously.

“You know as well as I do that it’s not true,” Mihaela said with a fearful whisper. “I'm scared, I think, I think he'll come for me.”

“No, no, no,” you denied, taking your friend's hand. “He, he hasn't come back and, besides, he, he didn't have anything against you, his target always was me.”

“Tell it to my sister,” the young woman murmured, with an air of sadness for that tragic memory. “I envy you, you know?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing at yourself.

Mihaela nodded with a fearful sigh.

“Yes, he probably won't dare to do anything to you because you live with Donna. You're very lucky to have someone like her who can protect you,” she explained, shaking her head.

“Yeah, well, sometimes I wish she wouldn't protect me that much…” you murmured, looking around in fear. The ominous silence of the village accentuated that old fear even more. “Hey, don't worry… I-I'm sure it's just nonsense.”

“I have a bad feeling, (Y/N)… I know it's stupid considering your situation but… Be careful,” your friend said, with a worried look.

“Eh, nothing's going to happen… He hasn't come back, I'm sure what you saw was a shadow, or an animal or… Whatever,” you said, trying to reassure yourself. “Besides, you know, you know he's coming for me, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I hope, I hope you're right and it was just my imagination,” Mihaela commented, causing silence to reign.

No, he died… Did he really?

You thought that this talk with your friend could be beneficial, but it was the opposite. Fear, an almost forgotten fear returned to your mind, to your body. As you walked back home with the lady in black, you looked at the forest as a threat and not as a romantic refuge.

“Stop squeezing me so much,” Donna protested, loosening the strong grip of your hand on her arm. You obeyed, as if you had just come out of a dream, or a nightmare. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I'm sorry,” you said, looking everywhere except at the lady, who growled annoyed by your strange attitude. “I'm just, I'm just glad you're with me.”

“So that's why you intend to tear my arm off?” she asked, holding you tighter, pulling you so you could keep walking. “You're very sweet, tesoro…”

“Yeah, well,” you said, laughing fakely, getting a little closer. “What was that?” you asked, digging your feet into the snow and looking at a nearby bush, one that moved suspiciously.

“Mm?” Donna muttered, looking at the same spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I, I heard something in that bush,” you stammered, cowardly taking refuge behind Donna. “Can you, can you take a look?”

“The bush? What nonsense!” Angie protested, laughing at your irrational fear.

“Go,” the lady ordered the doll, who obeyed with a grunt as the lady held your shaking hand.

Angie moved the bush, even crawled inside, coming out again and shrugging.

“Nothing,” Angie said. “What’s wrong, silly?”

“I just, I just thought… Ne, nevermind,” you muttered, running a hand over your forehead.

Donna turned around with a confused sigh, placing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Amore mio, you're shaking, what's wrong?” she asked softly, taking your hands and squeezing them tightly.

“It's nothing, it's just that... I just didn't realize how sinister this forest is,” you said, faking a smile in a pathetic way.

“We'd better go back home then,” Donna said, with a tender laugh, caressing your cheek and leading you by the hand. You looked at that bush, at all the places where a person thirsty for revenge could hide.

That was just the beginning.

Your friend's words haunted you during the day and harassed you during the night. He couldn't have gone back, it was impossible, but you weren't able to accept it. In every dark corner, in every gap you saw the danger again.

An unpleasant return to the past, ghosts haunting you, whispering to you that you were in danger again, that the horrible man had returned.

Your character changed. You always enjoyed the outdoors, the forest, the surroundings of the mansion, but you didn't anymore. You preferred Donna's arms to the insecurity of the outside world.

She never knew, you never talked to her about it. She simply, as expected, welcomed this change in your personality as something good for her. You couldn't blame her, really, you couldn't. She didn't know and you never wanted her to.

A perfect afternoon for a walk turned into a boring afternoon of reading. Well, at least it would be boring if you weren't hugging Donna, if her soft caresses didn't pass through your hair, without her perfume soothing your fears.

Her kisses, the only moment when the lady interrupted her reading, were like a reminder to your frightened mind: she was with you and nothing would ever happen by her side.

“We finally meet again...” That terrible voice reached your ears and you panicked.

“No! It can't be! Help!” you screamed, running without moving forward, at the mercy of that monster. “No, no, no!”

“(Y/N), (Y/N)...” a soft voice interrupted you as you moved your arms, while hitting the body of the one you thought was your enemy. It wasn't.

When you opened your eyes the nightmare was over. Sweat ran down your body and your wrists were held by the lady in black, who looked at you with a frown.

“Donna...” you sighed, throwing yourself into her arms irrationally. “Donna...”

“Tesoro, calm down, it was just a nightmare,” the woman in black said, holding you tightly against her. “Shh, that's it, I'm here with you…”

“A…? A nightmare?” you repeated scared, filling the black dress with tears of terror.

“Yes, you've fallen asleep,” she said, kissing your head and grabbing you by the shoulders. “Look at me, look at me, tesoro…”

“Shit, I… I don't…” you stammered, shaking your head.

“You've been behaving strangely for a while. I'm worried about you,” she said in a serious voice, wiping the tears from your face.

“It-It's nothing, I…” you murmured, stopping shaking due to her caresses, her gestures of affection.

“You're soaked…” Donna whispered, checking the sweat that wet your clothes. “Come, I'm going to prepare a bath for you.”

“I, I… Thank you, Donna,” you said, nodding gratefully.

The hot water relaxed you, but the fear was still very present. The nightmares haunted you even when Donna held you, even when her body gave you the security you needed. Nothing worked and nothing would, maybe it was time to tell her the truth, maybe then you could forget about it.

“Bellisima…” Donna said as she lovingly combed your hair, something she loved to do, of course, covering you in kisses in the process. “You're calmer, aren't you?”

You nodded, looking at your face in the mirror. The black shadows that had settled under your eyes were the last sign to embolden you to confess what it was that scared you.

“Donna, I have, I have to talk to you,” you said with a broken voice, turning to look at her and getting up from the stool, sitting on the bed and pointing at the mattress for her to do the same.

“Mm,” she murmured with a confused look, leaving the comb on the dresser and obeying your signals. “I’m listening.”

Her voice wasn’t an understanding one, it was rather fearful. You didn't know if that was good or bad.

“There is one thing I haven't told you…” you said, playing with your hands, separated by one of hers, which she squeezed tightly.

“You're scaring me,” she said, staring at you, her breathing altered. “Have I done something wrong? Do you want to leave me?”

“What? No, of course I don’t,” you said frowning and taking your hand away from hers, annoyed by her fears. “It has nothing to do with you. It's, it's something about, about my past.”

“You fucked that slut, didn't you?” the lady asked in a haughty tone, with darkness conquering her gaze.

“No, Donna! What's wrong with you?” you said angrily.

“There's nothing you haven't told me, (Y/N), so I guess it's something I’m not going to like,” she excused herself awkwardly.

You rolled your eyes and pulled the sheets with your hand, making an effort to tell her the truth.

“Actually, there is something,” you said, looking away. “But, but let me explain it to you before you start with your paranoia, can you do that?”

She nodded indignantly, crossing her arms.

“Va bene, talk,” she indicated to you, with an unpleasant gesture of her head.

You ignored that possessiveness, that arrogance, and took a breath, expelling it slowly to relax.

“I was about 8 years old, I was, I was very little,” you began, remembering while clenching your teeth. “I always went out to play with Mihaela, with my friends, you know, kid stuff, running through the woods, playing tag…”

Donna nodded for you to continue.

“There was, there was a man… A villager who, who was always there. No matter what I was doing, he was always… Watching me. At first I thought he just lived there but… It wasn't true,” you continued, earning the full attention of the lady, who didn't take the darkness away from her gaze.

It was the first time in years that you were that nervous. You thought you would never have to tell it again, that you would never have to live it again.

“That man followed me everywhere… He watched me from afar. I didn't give it any importance until that distance began to decrease,” you said, shaking your head. “The, the years went by and… When, when I was 14, that man kept spying on me, watching me… He was getting closer and closer, I felt his eyes looking through my window at night.”

You had to take a breath again.

“I, I can't forget that sinister smile, those eyes that seemed to… Undress me…” you sighed, with tears in your eyes. “I thought he would never go that far but, one night he, he caught me while I was coming home and… He tried… He tried to…”

“(Y/N), calm down, speak clearly, please,” your girlfriend said, getting a little closer, listening to you attentively.

“He wanted to hurt me… He said that I was his since I was a child and that he could finally… take me,” you murmured, embarrassed.

“Did he get it?” Anger burned in the words of the lady in black, her breathing became agitated again.

“No, luckily my father went out to look for me and scared him off before he could get any further,” you explained, relieved to remember how your father pointed his shotgun at that monster. “But that wasn't enough for him, because that same night… He k-killed my best friend's sister. It didn't matter that there was no evidence, I knew it was him, we all knew.”

“What happened then?” the lady asked again, with a calmer tone, lifting your chin.

“My father and Mihaela's went after him. They chased him through the forest and… They say, they say he fell off a cliff and died.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured, frowning. “If he died, why are you worried?”

“Because I never thought he would really died but… Time passed and I never saw him again, so I stopped worrying until, until the other day, when Mihaela told me that she had seen someone in his old cabin,” you finally said, holding back a sob. “I'm, I'm scared, Donna, what if he's back?”

“Why didn't you tell me before?” she asked, ignoring your fears, with a somber but a not-too-dark look.

“I've already told you, because I never thought he would come back or… Or that he could. Donna, I'm, I'm so scared…” you sobbed, leaning towards her so she could hug you, so she could tenderly press your head against her chest.

She sighed but gave you that protective hug, those soothing kisses on your hair.

“You must forget about that, amore mio,” she whispered after a few minutes of crying, gently pushing you away and wiping your tears. “You have nothing to fear.”

“He swore he would come back for me… He swore it…” you stammered.

“(Y/N), stop it, stop crying,” the lady scolded you, in a harsh tone. “It's absurd.”

“Absurd? Didn't you hear me? He'll come for me,” you protested, shaking your head in disbelief.

“No one is going to come for you,” Donna said, cupping your face with her hands. “You're mine, tesoro, no one will lay a hand on you, do you hear me? I protect you, I will never let anything happen to you, besides, surely that friend of yours is stupid and she just imagined it.”

“Do you mind stopping insulting my friends?” you asked with irony, moving away from her and crossing your arms. “Mihaela would never say something like that to me if she wasn't sure. Donna, he killed her sister.”

“That man is dead, (Y/N),” she sighed, struggling with you so she could caress you again. “You have to forget about that. You can't live scared like that.”

“I can't believe you don't understand…” you said with an offended look, open-mouthed. “You don't know what it's like to feel these things, to feel someone stalking you.”

“I can't believe you trust me so little that you can’t stop being scared by silly things,” the woman in black responded, with a haughty gesture. “You're with me and nothing and no one will ever hurt you, do you hear me? So, forget about it and try to relax.”

“It's very easy to say,” you murmured, calmed by her caresses.

“You don't trust me” she said with a soft, tender tone, tilting her head slightly. “You don't think I can protect you?”

“Yes, yes, but…” you said with a sincere smile, caressing her cheek too, relaxing her incipient madness. “You know what? Y-you're right Donna, I have nothing to worry about.”

“Mm, come here,” she said, smiling in the same way and kissing you slowly, moistening her lips with yours, relaxing your spirit a bit.

Donna was right, with her by your side nothing would happen to you.

Of course that should have been reason enough for you to stop thinking about it, but it wasn't. Yes, your fear calmed down, but it was still present. You were still reluctant to leave the house if it wasn't with Donna by your side, every corner was a danger, every moment of solitude was a risk. The nightmares had diminished, but the worry was still impregnated in your mind, that was something you couldn't avoid.

The days passed quickly, the nights were slow, as if time itself was mocking and scaring you.

“Did you like dinner, tesoro?” Donna asked, completely calm, smiling like every time you tasted one of her dishes. “(Y/N),” she said in a more impatient voice, seeing that you were distracted, looking at the darkness through the window.

“Oh, sorry, yes, Donna, it was delicious,” you said, pretending you weren't watching your surroundings.

She smiled pleased, looking at you with a tenderness that always won you over, with that bright, loving eye you were addicted to.

“You're beautiful when you smile…” the lady murmured, with a seductive look, making your cheeks blush little by little.

“That's because I'm with you,” you said amused, looking at her in the same way, feeling how the warmth of your chest hid your fear.

“Mm, maybe you want to tell me those things while we watch a movie,” she whispered sensually, biting her lip. “Or while doing other things…”

“Tempting,” you joked, nodding slowly. “I like the plan.”

“I like you,” she said with her voice filled with desire, with the love she felt and never get tired of showing you. “I'm going to pick this up and... Well, we'll see what we do, okay, tesoro?”

“No, no, Donna,” you said kindly, getting up from the table and grabbing her wrist. “You've been cooking for a long time. Let me pick it up...”

“As you wish,” she said, taking advantage of the proximity to kiss you quickly on the lips, a kiss that said many things, that said how much Donna wanted to continue devouring your lips. “I'll wait for you in the basement.”

“Yes, go to prepare the bed, I mean, the movie,” you joked, shaking your head and pretending to be absent-minded.

Donna laughed amused, looking at you seductively before walking away from you.

You sighed in love, slowly picking up the plates and glasses. The creaking of the wood alerted you unexpectedly. You felt like someone was watching you. The plates moved in your hand, trembling dangerously and you looked at the source of the sound, a shadow hiding under the table.

“Boo!”

“Ahhh!” you screamed in fright, dropping the dishes with a horrible sound, breaking the plates and glasses into pieces.

The Angie doll came out from under the furniture, laughing out loud.

“Fool, what a scare!” she shrieked amused. “I scared you, I scared you,” she mocked while you, in shock, shook your head.

“A-Angie, damn it,” you said trembling, on the verge of a heart attack.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Donna asked, running to your side while you bent down to pick up the plates, suffering the doll's mockery. “Che cos’è sucesso?”

“Nothing… Nothing… Angie scared me,” you said in a low voice, embarrassed by that exaggeration. Your heart was beating fast, the fear never went away.

“Angie!” Donna shouted furiously, making the doll run away from the place. “Let me help you.”

“Th-Thanks…” you murmured, looking down.

“You shouldn't be that scared, Angie always does the same,” the lady said, helping you with the plates. “(Y/N)”

“Mm?” you murmured, trying to pretend that you had regained your composure.

The lady in black slowly stood up with a cold look, crossing her arms.

“You're still scared of that man,” she said in a dark tone, looking at you almost with contempt.

“What? N-no, that doll scared me, that's all,” you lied clumsily, unintentionally agreeing with her.

“You know you can't, and shouldn't lie to me, (Y/N),” she hissed, without taking her accusing eye off yours.

“Fine... Yes, I'm still a bit scared,” you finally confessed, looking back at the window, where the trees mocked you by forming sinister shapes.

“I thought I told you to forget about that nonsense,” the lady scolded you, placing her finger on your chest. “Can't you hear what I'm saying?”

“You don't understand that I'm scared? Fuck, Donna, how can you be like that?” you protested, letting out the stress you had accumulated.

“If you're unable to be calm around me, it's because you don't trust me,” she said arrogantly.

“You always twist everything!” you screamed, clenching your fists on either side of your hips. “I haven’t any problem with you! I love you, Donna, I love you...” you sighed, trying to relax. “I'm just scared, fuck, I'm scared, isn't that logical? Are you so insane that you can't even understand me?”

The lady sighed, raising her gaze and turning around to leave.

“W-Wait, Donna, I didn't mean that,” you said hastily, grabbing her wrist, a grip she pulled away abruptly, too abruptly.

“If you don't feel safe with me... Just leave!” she shouted furiously, making you flinch.

“Donna, wait, wait,” you said nervously, trying to stop her. “It's not that, it's just that…”

“You're stupid!” Donna shrieked, approaching and making you back away. “You’re acting like a scared little girl when you should know that nothing will happen to you because you're with me, why is it so hard for you to understand?”

“You're the one who doesn't understand… Donna, calm down…”

“Stupida…” the lady hissed, with a look that hurt you, turning around and disappearing down the elevator hallway. “Porca puttana!”

“Damn it… Arghhhh!” you growled, kicking the wooden floor, unable to make Donna understand your fears, which were insignificant to her.

Getting some air was the best thing.

Trying to calm your breathing, you walked towards the exit, feeling the cool breeze relax your nerves. It was difficult to understand her anger, her rage, it always was. You knew she really wanted to help you in her own way, release you from those fears that were probably absurd.

Poor Donna had been alone for so long, she didn't know how to deal with such things. Your mind excused her for her attitude, as did your heart. You couldn't blame her for feeling desperate, for feeling that your trust in her didn't go far enough.

The fear was much greater. It surpassed the limits of your logic. Yes, that man would never approach the house of a Lord. It was a rational thought, one that Donna tried to make you understand in every possible way.

But you didn’t give in. You were not able to calm down. Maybe the fact of seeing herself unable to help you as she would like frustrated her. It wasn’t the first time that it happened, that Donna's problems came from her inability to cure yours.

Her anger wasn’t towards you and you knew it, it was towards herself, for not being able to help you when you needed it.

While you turned over everything that had happened, you contemplated the waterfall illuminated by the full moon, calming yourself. The landscape was calm, peaceful. Yes, she was right. You had to start to stop thinking about your past. You had to trust her.

To start with, you had to apologize, since surely, she wanted to do the same.

“Okay…” you whispered, moving away from the railing, freezing when you heard the creak of the door, the door you couldn't see due to your position. “Donna?”

There was no answer. A shiver ran down your spine as you approached the door. There was no one there.

“It, it must have been the wind,” you said, looking at the door, now half open.

Slowly, you closed it, sighing, walking slowly through the entrance, looking for the best way to fix things with the lady in black.

“Finally,” that dark voice scared you.

You felt someone grab you from behind, holding your neck with one arm. An evil laugh ran through your ears and your irrational fears disappeared. Someone had entered the house, someone you knew.

“Help!” you screamed, immediately silenced by a disgusting hand on your mouth. The grip was too strong to break free from.

He was back, that man was back, it wasn't paranoia, he had entered the mansion and he had caught you.

“Well, well...” he whispered. “How much time has passed?”

“Mmmm,” you protested, fighting against his grip, panic increasing your adrenaline.

“Don't bother talking... I never liked talkers, (Y/N)...” the man whispered sinisterly, warming your ear with his breath.

Using a bit of strength, you managed to remove his hand from your mouth, taking a breath.

“Donna! Donna!” you screamed, running away from the attacker, something he stopped by grabbing your ankle and dragging you towards him.

“Shhh don't scream, no one is going to come to help you, darling…” he said in a disgusting voice while you kept moving, desperate. “I think you stopped being that innocent little girl a long time ago.”

“Let me go!” you screamed desperately, kicking the intruder, looking for help with your eyes. “Donna!”

A strong blow to the head made you shut up. Your forehead was wet against the wooden floor, you were bleeding, dizzy, scared…

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, pulling your hair, satisfied by your inability to move. “Look at you… The little whore of Beneviento… You didn't know you had such high aspirations…” he mocked, laughing sinisterly. “I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I'm afraid that nutcase won't be able to protect you… Not when I've been… Looking for you for so long!”

“Donna…” you whispered in a small voice, trying to stop that animal from climbing on top of your body while licking his lips. “Please…”

“Calm down, you'll be back between that bitch's legs soon… But first… I think we have something pending…”

“No!” you screamed when those disgusting hands wandered over your clothes, moving them with a strength you didn't know you had, managing to punch him hard in the face and make him retreat.

“Damn bitch…” he hissed angrily as you crawled on the floor, looking for help. “I've got you!” he said triumphantly when he grabbed you by the hair, pulling it to bend you up. “This time you won't escape.”

You could only cry desperately, until you heard the hurried sound of heels.

“She was screaming, I swear Donna!” Angie's shrill voice was the next thing you heard, along with the sight of the doll pointing at you nervously. “Donna, Donna!”

“Don't move,” the man whispered in your ear, tightening his grip on your hair as you cried, while your blurry eyes watched the lady approach.

“D-Donna…” you said with a distorted voice.

The lady's eye widened, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but there was no shock or panic in her gaze, only serenity.

“Don't take another step,” the attacker threatened, taking out a knife and putting it to your throat. “Or I'll slit her throat from end to end.  (Y/N), you disappoint me…” he hissed in your ear, with a sinister smile, surely due to Donna's immobility. “Do you really prefer that disgusting nutcase over me?”

“Shut up!” Angie shrieked. “Donna, do something, quickly…”

“Donna…” you sobbed, looking at the lady, who remained serious, unmoved by the aggressor's painful words.

The lady took a slow step, then another. The grip on your hair tightened even more.

“I said don't come closer,” the man threatened, stabbing the knife into your skin harder. “Back off, you monster!”

Donna stopped, sighing and glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Help me, please…” you begged, stretching your arm out as far as you could trying to reach the doll maker.

“No one touches what's mine,” Donna whispered, darkening her gaze and raising her arm towards the man.

Suddenly the grip on your hair was released, causing you to fall to the floor with a thud and allowing you to crawl towards the lady, who helped you up, hugging you tightly against her.

“Donna…” you cried desperately against her dress, pulling at her clothes desperately, terribly scared. Your body trembled hopelessly.

You moved your head to look at your attacker, who had a lost look, looking up as if he were hypnotized.

“Angie,” the lady said in a dark tone, pushing you towards the doll, who approached you.

“(Y/N), silly, are you okay?” the puppet asked, helping you sit on the floor as you cried inconsolably.

Among tears, you looked at the lady and the attacker. The woman in black went a little closer, with that cold, expressionless look, moving her hand.

The man growled, grabbing his head as if it were about to explode. Slowly, trembling, he began to move involuntarily, picking up the knife he had dropped.

“No… No…” he whispered, moving his arm, pointing the blade towards his chest and slowly sinking it into his flesh. “Ahhhhh!”

You watched the scene in horror. Blood was pouring from his self-inflicted wound as he pulled out the knife, stabbing it somewhere else nearby, into his chest again.

“Ahhhh!” The man's screams of pain echoed in your ears. You looked at Donna, who seemed to smile at his suffering. A dangerous smile like you had never seen before. “No, no, have mercy!”

“Did you have mercy when you killed that girl?” Donna whispered, tilting her head mockingly. “Mm, I guess you didn’t.”

“Ahhhhh!” the man screamed again, stabbing the knife all over his body under the steady gaze of your girlfriend, who reveled in his suffering, bending down and grabbing his hair tightly.

“Mm, you don't deserve me wasting my time with you,” she murmured disinterestedly, letting him go in disgust and moving her hand again.

“No...No...” the man pleaded, with his knife resting on his throat.

You looked away when he began to cut it among screams of pain. Then, there was only silence.

You looked over your knees to contemplate that horrible scene, to see how Donna touched the lifeless body of that vermin with her foot. Her face was expressionless, cold.

She had killed him, but not only that, she had been cruel. She had enjoyed doing it. The fear you had for the attack was transformed, heading towards the lady in black.

“Angie,” Donna said, walking towards you. “Call Karl, he has to take care of taking out the trash,” she ordered, to which the doll nodded, quickly going to fulfill her request.

The lady sighed, looking for the last time at that lifeless body bleeding out on a carpet.

“Tesoro...” she said, changing apathy to concern, crouching next to you. “Amore mio... Has he hurt you?”

“N-No,” you murmured, uncomfortable by her caresses, by her hand in yours, the hand that guided the thoughts of that man, that guided him to his death.

“Oh, you are hurt,” she sighed with a sad look, touching the wound on your head, which you had forgotten. “Come, let's go to the basement.”

Helped by Donna, you went down the elevator. The shock was slowly wearing off, but in your head you only had one thing: her smile, Donna's smile as she made that man suffer.

You knew she was dangerous, that she was sick, but you had never had the misfortune of confirming those rumors.

In your head there was no relief or gratitude, only fear, a new fear, the fear of the lady in black.

You knew she loved you, you were sure of it. You were hers. She always made a point of reminding you of it but... What would happen if she got tired of you? What would happen to you if she stopped loving you? Would she make you suffer like that too?

All those questions clouded your thoughts as she sat you down on a chair, searching for the first aid kit in one of the closets.

“Look at me, tesoro…” she told you in a soft voice, as if she hadn't just killed a man.

You involuntarily moved away from her touch, one that you irrationally saw as threatening. The lady growled, grabbing your chin tighter so you would look at her.

“It's all over, (Y/N), that bastardo won't bother you again, relax,” she said to you, changing the strong grip for a caress on your cheek and a tender smile.

You nodded, hissing in pain when a cotton ball brushed your wound.

“You deserve an apology, (Y/N),” the lady commented, sitting in front of you to better heal your wound. “I never thought that man would be so stupid as to break into the house.”

You nodded again, it was the only thing you could do without trembling.

“Mm, okay… It's nothing serious…” she sighed, soaking more cotton in the alcohol. “Amore mio… This wound hurts me more than it hurts you… I should never have let this happen.”

“It's not your fault,” you whispered in a weak voice, looking away.

“Shh, look at me,” she corrected, moving your face again. “I hope you'll be able to forgive me for my carelessness.”

“I have nothing to forgive you for,” you murmured, wiping away a tear that was running down your cheek.

The lady sighed, putting down the bottle and the cotton and grabbing your hand, leaning in to kiss you, something you rejected.

“It's okay, I understand, you're angry with me,” she whispered in a strangely understanding way. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shook your head, moving away from her.

“Okay…” she murmured, getting up from the chair with a sad look. “(Y/N) if I lost you… It would be, it would be hell for me, do you understand?”

You nodded reluctantly.

“You don't want to talk to me,” she sighed, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. “Okay, do you want to be alone, tesoro?”

“You enjoyed it,” you murmured in a low voice, gaining enough courage to tell her what was really going through your head.

“Cosa?” she asked, looking at you confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You killed that man, and you enjoyed it, I saw the way you smiled,” you hissed in a dark voice.

“What did you want me to do, (Y/N)? He was going to hurt you,” Donna said, looking at you with a frown.

You shook your head, looking at the floor.

“You could have scared him, you could have made him run away forever,” you said thoughtfully, with your hands starting to shake. “But, but you have tortured him… You have made him suffer.”

“Anyone who dares to touch what is mine suffers the consequences,” she said, with that cold look again, still proud of her actions.

At that moment you exploded.

“So what will happen to me if I stop being yours? Are you going to torture me too?” you asked angrily, getting up from the chair. “You scare me, Donna, I have never been so afraid of you.”

“(Y/N), how can you think that way? Tesoro, you're really upset, let me…” she said, coming closer, something you stopped by cowardly running away from her touch.

“Don't touch me! Get away from me!” you screamed nervously, pathetically protecting yourself with your hands.

“I would never hurt you, I'd rather die,” the lady said, with a sad, pleading tone, one that you ignored.

“I don't know if I can believe you, not with what I've seen,” you said, relaxing the tone of your voice.

“(Y/N)… What's wrong with you? Was I supposed to let that man abuse you? Let him get away with it and let him get on with his life?” Donna said, coming closer in a threatening way. “I was just protecting you!” she yelled nervously, grabbing the collar of your dress, making you close your eyes tightly, expecting the worst.

“Donna…” you gasped in fear.

She blinked, watching as her hand grabbed your clothes, seeing your scared eyes and getting scared, of herself.

“Gods, (Y/N), I'm sorry…” she said, letting you go softly. “Tesoro, please, understand me, I love you so much that… I would do anything to protect you.”

“Leave me alone,” you hissed, pushing the lady away roughly. “Please, I want to be alone.”

“No, wait, wait, please,” Donna said, grabbing your wrist. “Please amore mio… For-forgive me…”

“You can't apologize for something you aren’t really sorry about. You don't regret what you've done, you're a psychopath,” you growled, tears streaming down your face again.

“Don't say that, please…” she sobbed, shaking her head at the harshness of your words. “Please… Stop, stop insulting me…”

“I love you Donna, but you made me think, so it's best that I go to my parents' house for a while,” you said grimly, with all the coldness you were capable of.

“No…” she sighed, opening her eye wide. Her breathing was completely uncontrolled. “No! Don't leave me!” she screamed desperately, throwing herself to the floor to grab your legs, losing her dignity.

“Let me go, Donna… I have, I have to think about many things��� I need some time,” you said, struggling with the tearful mess that clung to your body. “Let me go!” you shrieked, pushing the tearful lady away from you, causing her to fall to the floor.

“No, don't leave!” she screamed furiously, her face torn by tears. “Don't leave me!”

“I'm sorry,” you said crying too, turning around only to hear her outburst of fury, how she hit everything with her fists while she cried in agony. “I'll come back when I have a clear mind.”

“No!” she screamed, hitting the floor with her fists, writhing in her madness. “YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!”

Her fury was hard to ignore as you walked towards the door.

“You can't leave me because I saved your life!” she finally sobbed.

Those words did something in your mind.

Saved your life…

You were so blinded by fear, so scared that you had forgotten the most important thing. Without leaving the room, you moved your hand to the wound on your head, unable to take another step.

That wound was not only a reminder of Donna's rage, of her sadism and torture. No, that wound had another meaning that you were beginning to sense.

Yes, she tortured that man. She made him suffer but… What would have happened if she hadn’t intervened? The answer was in the marks on your body, in the sad look of your best friend, in your terrible memories.

If Donna hadn’t been there to protect you, your end would have been long and horrible. Surely that disgusting man would have had fun with you until you were completely useless, and what for? Why leave the witness of your atrocities alive? No, you would have been of no use to him anymore.

 You would have died, like Mihaela’s sister.

That terrible truth ravaged your thoughts with horrible images of your body used and abandoned anywhere. That man was not a man. He was a beast, one which would never rest until it got what it wanted.

What would have happened if Donna had been merciful, if she had spared that wretch’s life? You could read the answer before your eyes, he would return.

Maybe not the next day, or the next month, but he would come back. Those kinds of disturbed people always did. And… If that were the case, what would happen to you? Your terrible end.

You couldn't stop thinking about when you were a child, when that beast was stalking you, about Mihaela's tears when she lost her sister. It was all so unfair, so terrible… Did that man really not deserve that torture?

For all the girls who suffered, for all the harm he did, for everything he was, he deserved it. He deserved every stab, even some more.

Then you realized your mistake of misinterpreting Donna's actions as those of a psychopath. Imagining that sinister smile of the lady again, you could see your friend, her sister smiling next to Donna, enjoying revenge, thanking the lady for make that monster pay for his crimes.

Donna had protected you, she had saved your life, she had saved what was hers. She had saved more girls from suffering in the future. She wasn't a bad person. She had her flaws, her illness, but still, she saved you and how did you thank her? By abandoning her, making her believe that saving you was a mistake.

You turned around slowly, looking at the lady curled up unable to stop crying, pulling at her hair.

You bit your lip and approached slowly, crouching down next to her.

“Donna, darling,” you said softly, freeing her from her own grip. She looked at you with her eye red from crying, unable to do anything else but sob. “Donna, stop, stop please, I'm still here…”

“(Y/N)…” she sobbed, blinking rapidly. “(Y/N)…”

“Shhh, it's over, my love… I'm not going anywhere. My place is here, with you…” you whispered in a calm voice. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I behaved like that, I… Donna, I haven't even thanked you for saving my life… I'm, I'm stupid…”

“Don't leave…” she whispered, letting you wipe her tears, staring at you. “Please…”

The lady in black, broken, bowed her head to your chest, head that you hugged without thinking, kneeling on the floor and comforting her crying.

“I won't leave, darling, I won't leave…” you repeated, holding back your tears. “I just got, I got scared… I was, I was scared.”

“How can you be afraid of me?” she asked, with her head buried in your dress. “I would never hurt you, never… E-Even if you leave me I… I would be incapable of hurting you… You are my precious girl, my sunshine, my everything… I love you more than anything… You have to believe me… I would never hurt you… Never!”

“I know, I know, Donna,” you said nodding, moving her away from your body so you could look at her properly, to relax her with a soft caress that preceded a tender, salty kiss, a kiss that ended her fears, and yours. “I love you, I love you… And… I, I like that you protect me, I want you to always protect me… Donna, my love… You are the love of my life…”

[hwangism143]

pillow talk

synopsis: the three times in which you sleep over at seungmin's childhood home as his friend and the one time you're something more.

pairing: non-idol!seungmin x gn!reader

genre: hurt, comfort, angt

warnings: mentions of abandonment, reader is an orphan and in foster care, swearing, food

word count: 3.3k words

now playing: you make me feel - easha

requested: by the lovely @booksndpoetry

a/n: wrote this is two days no wonder it's so bad (pls dont kill me)

"the colors of your love came so suddenly"

The first time you slept over at his childhood home was accompanied with the dull throb and apprehension of yet another new beginning.

Your one solitary bag and the pillow that was your only prized possession were the only things you had with you. Your bag hung off one shoulder and the pillow was clutched to your chest.

You found yourself wondering what Seungmin's family was like. Being a pessimist, you didn't hope for the best and braced yourself for the worst. When the door opened, warm yellow light spilled through the silhouette of a middle-aged women and temporarily blinded you.

Your posture slightly relaxed. Families with an abundance of yellow lights rarely mistreated you.

Your situation was laughable really. You weren't even a full two weeks into the Jang's care, and yet the neglect had already begin.

Stop, you told yourself, at least they were willing to take your old ass in. The Jangs' were away for a business trip and informed you last minute that their flight had been cancelled. They told you to g once she locked up left.

It wasn't that you weren't grateful to the Jangs; but the years you had spent being grateful and getting nothing in return caused you to offer a cautious thanking to their actions. They were sweet to you so far, but you didn't blame them for wanting you out of the house when you were gone.

Foster kids and newly adopted kids had a history of stealing, and while you had never done the same, the feeling of paranoia was one that you were well accustomed to.

Mrs. Kim had a kind, slightly wrinkled face and a wide smile. "Hello dear. You must be Y/N. Come in, come in. Don't stand in the cold for too long."

You could instantly feel the maternal protection that radiated from Mrs. Kim, something you felt in dots and dashed from Mrs. Jang. You knew the Jangs cared, but they didn't quite know how to care. You knew that the Kims had two kids however, an older daughter in college and a boy, sixteen and your age.

Younger you would be mentally cartwheeling in happiness at the thought of being under the care of Mrs. Kim, even if it was for a night. Older you couldn't care less.

Two years until I leave the fucking system for good.

You shifted uncomfortably as you gazed around the house. Wow. It was well decorated and definitely reflected the luxury that the Kims resided in. Everything in sight was in warm and inviting shades of color that made you feel very appreciative.

Interior design had always been a point of interest for you. You realized that there was a lot you could learn about a person from the way they designed their home.

Mrs. Kim turned to look at you. "Ah, you'll be in Seungmin's sister's room. I have told him to clean it up, so you won't have to worry about that. His father is out playing golf, but he'll be home soon too."

Mrs. Kim handed you a glass of water which you accepted with a genuine smile. You were gazing at the family portraits on the wall as you sipped quietly. The entire family looked like they were surrounded by an aura of calm, unbothered by the qualms of the world.

Oh how sweet would it be, to live like that.

"Can I- can I go change upstairs please?" you asked Mrs. Kim softly.

She looked up from the chopping board, lettuce diced evenly. "Oh, of course darling. No need to ask. As long as you're here, this house is yours."

"Seungmin!" she yelled to an unknown entity who must have been on the second floor of the house.

"Coming!" yelled back Seungmin.

The sweetness of his voice took you aback. Just one word made you crave to hear more. His voice was smooth and rich like honey, washing over you. You wondered if he had an inclination towards music, singing in particular; with a voice like that, it would be a shame if he wasn't.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs and a boy with a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants appeared in front of you and Mrs. Kim. He was cute, almost puppy like, with flappy hair and defined features. Seungmin bounded over to his mother and looked at you curiously.

"Seungmin, this is Y/N. Take her upstairs, will you?" Mrs. Kim asked.

"Okay," Seungmin replied.

You extended you hand. "Hello. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Seungmin accepted with a non-judgmental, but curious expression. Mrs. Kim visibly smiled into the large pot she was currently stirring, clearly amused at your outdated usage of language. You cringed internally, mentally cursing the British family that you were with for two years from the age of five for forcing you into greeting people this way.

"It's nice to meet you to," his warm hand grasped yours and let go with a firm shake.

"Come on," said Seungmin, cocking his head towards the stairs in front of you.

You followed his slowly, taking in the houses beauty. Somehow, everything worked with everything. This must have been artistic living.

Seungmin opened his sister's bedroom door and motioned you to go in. You gave him a small smile, if it could be called that, and shut the door. When you turned around, you were met with a lot of surprise.

When Mrs. Kim mentioned that Seungmin was cleaning up the room for you, you were prepared to face a light skimming and dusting of things. In reality though, everything was meticulously arranged and kept in it's place.

Such level of neatness was slightly terrifying.

You changed and kept your things to one side. When you came out, you went downstairs with the clear intention of trying to get a read on the enigmatic Kim Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

This was going to be a disaster.

Both you and Seungmin were quiet by nature. Albeit for different reasons, you both sat awkwardly, waiting for the other person.

Seungmin was quiet because he liked observing. He was a listener, and enjoyed hearing what others had to say rather than talking himself. He found the art of listening to be the most brilliant that there was.

You, on the other hand, were forced into being quiet to the point where you forgot what it was like to hold meaningless conversation. All your life, you had been taught that the key to a successful life in the foster system was to remain submissive and deferential.

You never even bothered to make connections with people. You had learnt the hard way that when you bounced around houses and cities, it was difficult to maintain contact with people. You had made up your mind at just the tender age of eight that making friends, hell even acquaintances, was pointless. You were just saving yourself and the other person from future heartbreak.

As a result of being alone so much, you didn't exactly know how to hold conversation with people in your age range.

"So, uh, wanna do something?" Seungmin asked.

You shrugged. "Sure."

You both sat in his basement, a bowl of popcorn in between and half drunk iced tea beside you. Seungmin was very respectful, not once brining up your living situation. He brought the drink to his lips and downed the rest (which was very little) in one go.

"Okay, um, twenty questions?" He asked.

You instantly felt discomfort rise in you. Ah, here it was. His opening to ask you intrusive questions. "I- fine," you relented.

You were ready for whatever shade he was going to throw at you. He didn't ask about your personal life apart from the usual questions (favorite color, movie, etc.) a single time. You were slowly warming up to him.

"Last question. What's something you haven't told anyone?" asked Seungmin innocently.

You snorted, "Why would I tell you that?"

Seungmin smirked, "I mean, I'm very trustworthy. Plus, it's always better to tell your secrets to a stranger rather than a person you know."

You found it strange, but conceded. It felt nice to talk to someone after so long.

"You know the pillow I brought with me, right? That's the most important thing in my life. I was found near a train station laid on top of it, covered in a blanket and a sweater. Those were taken away from me a long time ago, but the pillow was something I fought to keep."

You finished nonchalantly, suppressing a laugh at Seungmin's expression of pure shock.

"I was expecting something along the lines of breaking something fancy or something. I mean, I was going to tell you about the time I broke into my parents liquor closet but chickened out and never drank anything."

You regarded him with a guarded smile. Kim Seungmin was an enigma, but for the first time in your life, he was one which you felt an odd temptation to solve.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second time you slept over at his childhood home was full of fear and anticipation that was directed towards your college entrance exams tomorrow.

Although the Jangs never formally adopted you, you had stayed with them for close to two years now. You formed an interesting bond with Seungmin: you weren't quite friends, but you understood each other on a deeper level.

Seungmin was easily the only person you would talk to. You both started engaging in combined study sessions, filled with silence interrupted only by a pen scratching against paper or a groan of frustration.

The night before, you needed to go to Seungmin's house to revise. Or rather, to confess.

You were pacing in his room as he lay on his bed. Seungmin was on his back, flipping through one of his textbooks. Finally, he let out a sigh.

"Alright. What is it?" he asked.

"I need to get the top score," you insisted. Seungmin looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Everyone does," he said matter of factly.

"No, everyone wants it, but I need it," you repeated.

Silence with Seungmin was never uncomfortable, post your initial interaction. Silence with Seungmin alleviated your tensions. This silence, however, felt pressing.

"Tell me something you have never told anyone," he asked you quietly.

The routine asking of this question had become a habit between you two now. Whenever you noticed that the other was shifty, holding something back, this was their cue to tell you what was wrong.

"I'm being selfish," you groaned, "I need to so that my name gets published somewhere, anywhere, so that my birth parents know I'm alive and find me. I'm not giving them the liberty of me searching for them. They lost that a long time ago. If they want me, it's them who need to look for me."

You plopped onto Seungmin's office chair and pointlessly spun in circles. He studied you carefully.

After a pause, he responded, "I'll be honest. You are being selfish. You want this, no, apparently need this for reasons that have nothing to do with your future studies, which is what college entrance exams are all about. But considering you situation, I believe it's completely justified."

You instantly felt at ease. This boy you only know for two years astoundingly always knew the right thing to say.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You and Seungmin had the house to yourself. His parents were visiting his sister, helping her settle into her new apartment. You ads Seungmin had to share his room, the other rooms stored with his sister's things that needed to be moved.

You were practically asleep in his bedroom but an uneasy churning in your stomach kept you awake. You could hear Seungmin lightly open the door and step inside.

"Wait, I'm gonna go get the air mattress," he voiced in the dark room.

You turned towards him. "No, just sleep with me."

"You sure?" He asked.

Seungmin knew about your hesitancy towards forming attachments and committing. You hummed in affirmation, knowing that he would get little to no sleep on the air mattress and wouldn't let you sleep on it either.

He slid in beside you, his face facing yours. You both just looked into each other's eyes until you broke away, turning to the other side. Seungmin felt a part of his heart chip away for reasons he couldn't really identify.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You felt bile work it's way up your throat and knew you wouldn't be able to suppress it. Carefully getting out of bed to make sure Seungmin didn't wake up, you made your way to the bathroom.

Routinely swallowing your vomit, you got to the bathroom and without even switching on it's lights, heaved out the contents of your stomach as quietly as possible.

Or so you thought. A drowsy Seungmin materialized at the doorway, turning on the light and watching you in concern. You flushed the toilet and violently splashed your face with water.

"Being half asleep is a very good look on you," he mumbled dryly.

"Likewise," you panted, an apologetic expression on your face.

You hated physical touch. Seungmin knew you hated physical touch. But when you reached over to lightly squeezed his hand as an apology, Seungmin felt a similar constriction in his chest.

To Kim Seungmin, you were a mystery he hadn't quiet solved, but he was still, willing to do anything for you, and the unfamiliarity of such a feeling scared him beyond belief.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The third time you slept over at his childhood home was full of nostalgia and memories.

You both were twenty two, finishing up your undergraduates, when you mentioned to Seungmin in passing that you would be in town on your way for an assignment that would require you to travel. Seungmin jumped at the idea of you staying with him, since he was house sitting for his parents that very weekend.

Seungmin would be lying if he said that he wasn't hurt by your slowly decreasing contact. Conversation between you both slowly dwindled, but he never pried as to why. He understood that you rarely ever maintained an attachment, and that he was lucky for what he had.

You wondered what it would be like when you went back. The Jangs had never fostered a child after you, but never called you their daughter. They maintained contact with you but never attended events like graduation.

Still, deep down, at the end of the day, you knew you carried two things in your heart: Your now battered pillow and Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You both were sitting in his backyard, legs crossed over each other on Seungmin's folding chairs. Stars littered the sky the way they littered his eyes, and you couldn't help but be entranced by the wistful gaze that Seungmin held.

"Tell me something you have never told anyone," you asked, leaning your head over, near his shoulder. Just a few inches, and it would placed on it.

Just a few inches, and everything would mean something.

Seungmin knew his words carried gravity, but he was tired of walking on coal around you.

"I missed you," he said, a near whisper.

You stilled. "Your turn," came his voice after an eternity.

"I talk to my pillow sometimes. I pretend like it's a family member. It stopped, when I used to live here. But it grew in frequency during college. There is something inherently wrong with me, and I think that it's either me being undeserving of love or me never having been loved."

When your voice finally faded, Seungmin turned to look at you. Your eyes were glassy and unfocused. He wanted nothing more than to shake some sense into you, tell you that you were loved. Hell, he was proof, if you needed it.

"You're loved. If you weren't you wouldn't be here," Seungmin said hoarsely.

You snorted in response. "Yeah, I sure as hell wouldn't be here if I was loved."

Your words stung but Seungmin wasn't deterred. "I love you," he said softly.

Your eyes widened fractionally and you turned to look at him. "What?"

"No," he laughed, "Not that way. I love you as a friend, a confidant, as someone I know I can always talk too. Not... whatever it was you were thinking."

You visibly eased under the effects of his words, but noticed that Seungmin didn't do the same. His body was still tense, still rigid.

"What is it?" you asked.

"I- I know I said I love you as a friend but," Seungmin's voice faltered.

"But?" you prodded, your own heartbeat increasing with each passing moment.

"I would be falsifying my emotions if I said there weren't times when I wanted to love you in different ways as well. Romantically. Intimately. Devotionally," he added in an uncharacteristically shy tone, "If you'll have me."

And you realized, with a start that you did want him. But doubts started plaguing your mind, started seeping into your body and mixing with your being. What is the pain of it was so irreparable that you would never be able to love, if you ever could in the first place, again?

"What if I can't recognize your love for love?" you questioned meekly.

"Then I'll say it to you everyday. Platonically at first, romantically, maybe, afterwards, but I'll say it to you every single day. If every hour if you want me too. Because it's the truth."

You felt the warmth that accompanied thoughts of Seungmin blooming in the pits of your stomach. Or maybe it was the barbecued chicken you just ate. In the heat of the moment, you weren't quite that sure.

"And what if I can't love you? All I have ever known towards this world is hate."

"Then I'll teach you. We have all the time in the world to do so. If all you have known is hate, then love should come easily. They're very similar emotions," Seungmin said softly.

He hesitantly moved his hand towards yours, and laced his fingers through the pads of your knuckles. You did the same and moved you head to place it on his shoulder. Now, everything did mean something.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fourth time you had slept over at his childhood home, Seungmin taught you that love could be found in every aspect of the world.

It was hidden in the way sparrows flew towards each other in the summer, in the way mothers looked at their children and the way a child looked at candy. It came in droppings, reflected in the way you felt about rain and cherry blossoms.

Seungmin taught you how love was found in the grand and the simple.

Love was when he sent you large bouquets of roses that you had know idea where to keep and the surprise picnics you planned for him. It was the coffee he prepared for you every morning without question and the way you paused whatever you were watching when he had to step out for a phone call.

At the Kim house, you experienced even more love.

Sisterly love, when Seungmin's sister showed off the clothes she brought for you. Maternal love, when Mrs. Kim squealed in excitement when she spotted you holding Seungmin's hand. Paternal love, when Mr. Kim placed a bet against his team while giving you a wink. Brotherly love, when Seungmin's cousin tried to steal food off your plate.

You felt love everywhere, and slowly but surely, you spread love everywhere.

That night, Seungmin held you close and sang into your hair the way he did every night.

"I love you," he yawned, and snuggled into you.

And, you wanted to say it back. Mustering up the courage, you replied, "I think I love you too. No, I know I love you too."

Seungmin looked at you in astonishment and you realized that you were right all along.

He did have stars in his eyes.

You didn't know much about love. You were still learning, still faltering. But you knew one thing for certain: the love you held for Seungmin and the love he held for you would never go away.

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

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[hanibalistic]

#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 8175

warning | briefe violence / use of spanish phrases translated from the internet :( let me know if i'm wrong about anything! / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie / this part deviates from the movie 

parts | one, two, three, four

There were four things you learned from what happened at the bank. 

One, Gwen's finishing touches to your glitch-prevention bracelet saved the essential parts of your body—neck down and hip up—from getting injured. Upon detecting the incoming air pressure released from the explosions, which the bracelet mistook as the effect of a glitch, it surrounded your torso with a protective shield that would have covered you fully if the blasts did not cause it to malfunction.

Two, the loyalty Rio has for her son was extraordinary. After Miles called her out to the back alley of the hospital building, she did not hesitate a second to sneak you into a vacant room and take from the hospital the medical supplies needed to treat you as best as she could. She did not ask any questions. It was one look on Miles’s anxious face, and she was on her feet, taking charge. Because of the safety measures Gwen placed in your bracelet, you did not sustain any fatal wounds, making it much easier for Rio to help you. The only problem you encountered was pain, a lot of it.

Three, Miles has done terrible things. He was the prowler, whatever that meant. The explosions were one of the significant steps in a bank heist that he, Uncle Aaron, and Gwen took up as a side project. Most of the time, they work on lucrative commissions offered by the likes of Kingpin, whoever that was. Kidnapping, assault, and even murder were not irregular to him. He confessed that he had killed someone before, and you asked him to stop it at that.

Four, after shutting yourself out from everyone, except for letting Rio bring you food occasionally, you realized you couldn’t care less about what Miles has done.

The thought haunted you, leaving you in an endless debate with yourself. How dare you let go of your conscience? How dare you treat a criminal with kindness? How dare you look a killer in the eyes and see someone different than their dirty past? To say you were distraught would be an understatement, as the accusations your mind kept throwing at yourself were the least troublesome hurdle to jump through. The most teeth-rotting matter was that you were guilty. You avoided seeing Miles because you knew once you did, the outrageous truth would hit you harder than the bomb blasts did. The fact that you still looked at him with love.

“Can I sit next to you?”

“Yeah–yeah. For sure.” 

You climbed on his bed and sat cross-legged next to him. Miles sucked in a breath when you touched knees, and suddenly, all his senses were focused on that particular contact spot. You picked at your fingers sheepishly, feeling rather silly about your week-long silent treatment. But you needed it for self-reflection and to come to terms with your conclusion. Miles waited for you to speak. He didn’t know if this was only a spur of the moment, and he wasn’t willing to take any risks that might chase you out of his room. 

“I thought about what you told me at the hospital,” you started, rubbing your hands. 

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he said, turning his head ever-so-slightly to gauge your reaction. “I would never hurt you on purpose, [Name]. I really had no idea you were there.”

“I know,” you nodded with a faint smile, “I forgave you the night it happened.”

You felt he didn’t accept your forgiveness and supposed that was only natural. If you were in his shoes, the mental gymnastics you would do to keep yourself occupied with blam could rival his. The only thing that could get him to treat himself kinder would be time, specifically having you pass through it with him. Licking your lower lip, you rubbed your nose and hummed a soft, audible grin. He turned fully to you then, feeling less anxious.

“Miles, I don’t judge you for what you did or what you plan to do,” you said, your head mildly gesturing in emphasis. Concentrating in deep thoughts, you rubbed your eyes, sniffed comfortably, and faced him with a knowing upside-down smile. “Be it you have a reason or not, I don’t think I will ever–how do I say this? I don’t think I will distance myself from you, ever.”

He felt breathless, but it came from the incongruence between his mind and heart rather than the supposed relief that you accepted him. He was too accustomed to anticipating horrific reactions that he forgot people could be open-minded. You were not supposed to be okay with what he did. You couldn’t be okay with what he did!

“[Name],” he heaved out with an uncontrollable shake of his head, “my hands are bloody.”

You looked down at where he rested them on his lap. Were they? Miles’s hands may be bloody, but they were also a multitude of other things. They are a mother’s secret financial support; they peel the skin off fruits, stroke your hair when you cry to sleep and dance across your love handles in a ticklish haze. You reached out tentatively to hold them, finally realizing he was trembling. Was he scared? You didn’t react to it. His hands fit cozily in yours, as they always have, and suddenly, Miles didn’t fear the atrocity they were capable of. You broke him down, mellowed him out, rinsed him off all he’s ashamed of, and he—

“Mine will cover the stains for you.” You held up your interwind hands with a tight-lipped smile. “See? Can’t even see your palms anymore.”

—loves you, in a frightening way that it seemed like you felt the same way too. 

“[Name],” he hushed, his head dipping in exhaustion. “I’m not gonna stop berating myself.”

He wouldn’t, and it would hurt you less than it would hurt him.

You let go of his hands and watched him desperately scramble for you. It was a heartbreaking sight, even for a split second, to see his longing ragged out like an unwatered plant reaching for the faintest taste of rain. Getting your arms out and open, you refolded your legs into kneeling to pull him into a proper hug. Miles gritted his teeth to silence the screeching voices as he returned the hug immediately. When he closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the usual crank of it because your neck was sensitive and ticklish, he began to calm down.

Feeling you pat his back, he supposed this was all anything should feel like. Love—a word capable of expressing an emotion of its terrifying caliber. What else could it be? True love is the inability to abandon, in the same way Miles waited for you even after you died, and you refused to let go of his cold-blooded hands made warm by holding yours. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know.” You nodded with a sudden thoughtful hum. “Hey, you know what you can do to make it up to me?”

Miles perked up slightly and pulled away. He raised a brow when he saw the bashful smile on your face. You’ve got an idea, and he might not like it.

The pressure in your stomach dropped whenever Miles was pulled back to the ground by gravity. Not a second after reaching the floor, he was up in the air again, his boots allowing him to reach a much greater height and distance when he jumped. As the chilling air hit your face and hair, you realized Miles was right to bundle you up after he finally agreed to take you on a stroll high up in the air. 

When you raised the idea to him, his reaction was as he suspected: he did not like it. Or, well, he did not understand it.

You had told him about the faint memory of a floaty feeling the day of the bank accident, which, after he told you about him being the prowler, you could deduce had come from him taking an unconventional shortcut to the hospital. He made the mistake of admitting that he was hopping from roof to roof to get you there because the next thing you asked was for him to do it again, but this time you would be conscious of experiencing it. 

Perhaps he has possessed the convenience his prowler suit gave him for too long. He couldn’t understand being fascinated with the ability to be in the air. You briefly mentioned Spiderman and his interesting web-shooting function as an argument to get Miles to understand you, but how could he? He wasn’t even sure if Spiderman was real! Still, he caved into your wish, grabbed the boots he kept hidden in his closet because he refused to go anywhere with the risk of bumping into him for now, and brought you on a rooftop stroll. 

What was originally a safety hazard forcing his claws to wrap steel tight around your body soon shifted into something of ease. His heart grew in size at how much fun you were having, and for once, he reverted to the boy he was the first time he experienced the thrill this well-made suit gave him. He kept his eyes forward to map a path across the buildings, his claws helping him move closer to the sky. He heard your uncontrollable laughter, he wished he could see your eyes light up brighter than the moon above, and he envied the wind that brushed your face and hair. 

This was a good idea. This may be the single best thing he has done.

“Where are we going?” you whispered, tightening your arms around his neck.

“You’ll see. Hold on tight.”

Miles kicked his feet against the brick wall to hoist himself a good distance upward before forcing his claws through the concrete. He pressed the hand on the low of your back into his body, keeping you steady in one arm. You couldn’t bear to look around at the height you were stuck in, but the arm strength Miles has to support two weights while climbing up a tall building with one arm was surprising and, dare you say, attractive. 

The skyscraper was a place Miles hadn’t visited since ‘your’ death. Being here with you now did not make him feel better. He was careful where he stood on the edge of the highest point of the building; he wanted you to look over the bright borough.  

“Oh, no way! You brought me to the skyscraper?” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “You always said no when I wanted to come here.”

“I got reasons,” he huffed out quietly. Upon your silence, he peered down from the night view and saw you staring at him expectantly. He barely rolled his eyes in defeat. “You died here. You fell.”

The high-pitched hum you let out was comedically timed. Rigidly turning your head to face out, you could only imagine the exact height of this skyscraper as you could not see below the horizon. No wonder he didn’t let you on the ground—this would be one hell of a fall if history repeats itself. Miles chuckled lowly when you curled your arms tighter around his neck and slumped your weight further into him. You echoed his chuckle.

“Well,” you muttered, “definitely not letting go of you anytime sooner.”

“I’m not gonna either,” he said.

A sudden gust of wind blew at your face. You leaned closer to his neck for warmth, your eyes squinting at the building lights. It was too late into the night for the borough to remain bustling as in the morning, but the illumination from apartments, stores, and other high buildings made an equally homey view. The silence was enjoyable, too; just the open air and the inner sound of you counting your breath. 

“Was it embarrassing?” you asked suddenly, your voice hoarse.

“What is?”

“Me falling? I don’t know–“ your body shifted upward, forcing Miles to adjust to your new position–“did I look weird when falling? Did you see me fall? Did anyone see me fall–oh my god, were the police here?”

“I’m sorry. Where is this coming from?” he asked with a confused deadpan. “What are you even saying? None of that matters?”

“It actually does matter because I feel–“ you sucked in a deep breath dramatically–“I don’t like having too much attention on me, and if the police came, I feel that would be very awkward.”

“You trippin’.” He rolled his eyes.  

“What? That’s very valid!” You knocked your fist on the back of his shoulder. “Did I look weird when I landed? Did you see it? Did my brain splatter–“ You quieted down with an opened mouth when he flashed you a pointed look, but several suppressed giggles periodically left your lips as you moved your hands from his neck to cup his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put that thought in your head! Don’t think about that!”

Miles’s eyes softened. He wanted to kiss the laugh lines around your mouth. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”

You breathed out the last of your giggles and then stared at him. He was thinking about you even with you here—you knew, you knew very well. Your fingers grew timid at his stare, but they refused to leave the curve of his face. They could only ghost across his skin in freckled spots, treating him with the care he has given you. Miles barely leaned into your touch. He tested the water first, afraid that you would pull away at his immediate engagement, and he fully pressed his palm to your hand when you kept it where it was. 

You brought his face to yours. “Hey!” you whispered with a soft grin when your nose touched. 

“Hey,” he returned. He was soft. You’ve made him soft, made him a messenger of affection. “Your hands are cold.”

“I know.”

You pursed your lips at the feeling of his nose scraping past the bridge of yours. He was leaning closer, inviting you to something more intimidating than standing on the edge of a skyscraper. 

“Miles.” your voice was hushed. “Miles, I’m shy. Can you kiss me first?”

He leaned forward to kiss you after dropping a relieved sigh. You closed your eyes at the sheer force of his desperation, your hands mustering up the courage to grip his face tighter and bring him to you. The taste of your lips cascaded over his conscience. You hit him, like a ton of bricks, like the feeling of flesh wrapped around a blade, like being in the center of a firework explosion. It was a feeling he would trade anything for; one could ask him for a lifetime in return for a second of your lips on his. 

“Woah! Did you forget you’re on the run, Miles?”

“Oh, jeez! Mayday, don’t look!”

You two broke away immediately at the uninvited voices. Miles puffed air into his cheeks with an eye roll, not even attempting to hide how irritated he was at the interruption. Still heaving from the kiss, your brows furrowed when you came face to face with four outrageously different-sized figures, all dressed in a variation of a Spider suit, with a literal toddler wearing a Spiderman mask too small for her head. 

“Who…?” you started slowly. “Spidermen…? Spiderman’s sidekicks?”

“Now that’s just disrespectful,” the one with spikes on his head commented.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you muttered in response.  

“Who are you guys?” Miles asked defensively as he took a few steps back. He held you closer to him, his knees barely buckling in preparation to run. 

“How could you forget your mentor, Miles?” The man took off his mask and opened his arms as an introduction. “It’s me! Peter!”

“Oh my god, it’s Spiderman.” You slapped Miles’s chest to be let down on the ground, but he refused. Although his hair color changed, and he looked relatively scruffier than you remembered on the news, those features could not be mistaken. That was the face of the superhero you grew up seeing. “I thought you died. It was all over the news!”

“How could I be standing here if I died?”

“You know him?” Miles questioned. “I don’t know him.”

“Apparently not?” you mumbled. “Maybe he faked his death somehow?”

“Wait, what about me? You remember me! It’s Pavitr? We fought together! You saved my girlfriend’s dad, Inspector Singh?” He pointed over to his friends, his hair bouncing lusciously. “With Gwen and Hobie?”

“Gwen?” you and Mils exclaimed in unison. Her eyes widened at the sudden collective attention.

“Dude, what are you wearing?”

“Gwen, you’re a Spiderman–err, woman?”

“Okay, you’re seriously playing up the Spiderman jokes?” Miles deadpanned as he arched his neck to look at you.

You pulled a face before swinging your arms to gesture at five newcomers. “They’re literally here. Spiders, all of them!”

“I’ve never seen spiders stand on two feet.”

“Clearly, you haven’t seen a lot.” 

Miles sniffed with distaste. “Right. I’m gonna listen to someone with spikes on their head.”

“Miles!” you exclaimed with a harsh pinch to his cheek, then you turned to apologize. “I’m sorry. I think they look super cool.”

Taking a step forward, Gwen promptly eliminated the ongoing conversation by taking off her mask to reveal herself to you both. You tilted your head. She looked nothing like the Gwen you knew, and from her furrowed brows and darting eyes, she knew too. After a prolonged stare between you and Miles, the puzzles in her head piecing together, her relieved sigh was barely noticeable as realization hit her. She turned to her team with a shake of her head.

“This isn’t the Miles we’re looking for,” she said. “This is Miles from this Earth.”

“I knew that already,” Hobie smirked, hands in his pockets. “With the braids and all.”

Pavitr gasped with widening eyes. He pressed a hand to his chin and nodded. “Oh wow, I didn’t even register that. You look good, Miles!”

You punched Miles’s chest when he kept a brooding silence. He scoffed, smacked his teeth in dismay, then slurred out, “Thanks.”

“Okay, wait! Hold on, hold on!” Peter yelled without having gathered his thoughts. He shifted the weight of his legs, leaning on one hip, and pinched the bridge of his nose as a monotonous thinking noise churched out of his throat in a flat line. “But how? Our watch told us he was here. It gave us the signal that someone from Earth-1610 is here.”

“Someone is,” Gwen said. She turned around slowly, a look of uncertainty, then she pointed at you. “It’s them.”

None of them explicitly explained what they were talking about, but using your experiences and the confusing context clues, you could easily decipher the problem's gist. Something was happening on a multi-universal level. You didn’t know what exactly, but this felt to be a problem regarding that.  

“Gwen, I know you thought you explained the issue but you didn’t,” Peter muttered. He whipped his body around to you and held both hands in the air in a chopping motion. “Are you a Spiderman?”

“No.”

“Not you, big guy. You!”

“Oh, me?” You pointed at yourself for clarification and shook your head. “No, but there is one where I came from. Technically there are two, but the original one died, and he looked almost exactly like you! Just different hair color and… ski–never mind.”

“First of all, I had a feeling you were gonna call me fat. I’m not. I just look like a dad now, which I am. I have to clarify, okay? This is all dad weight, and this cutie-pie is my daughter, Mayday!” Peter said as he gestured toward himself and at Mayday. Then, he burst into a fit of confused noises. “Second, where you came from?” he repeated after you incredulously, paused for a brief moment, and then turned to Gwen, his eyes rolling. “Okay, yeah. I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“Psst… what are they talking about?” Pavitr whispered from the side, unknowingly having inched closer toward Hobie, who leaned down to his height for an explanation.

“That lad is Miles’s lookalike from this Earth. The one he’s clutching to him like a madman is from our Miles’s Earth, which is bonkers 'cause how did they even get here?”

“They’re not from here?” Pavitr widened his eyes. “That’s not good!”

“How so?” Hobie stood up straight.

“Oh, you know, with Miguel and everything,” Pavitr said as he twiddled his thumbs. “Actually, maybe not! I’m sure Miguel isn’t that obsessed about all of this.”

Just after his voice dropped, a portal emerged from behind where Miles stood. The second he noticed the faint glow flashing over his shadow, he jumped away to stand with the newcomers he was still wrecking his brain to familiarize himself with. You stared at the portal with wide eyes. Not once in your life have you seen technology like this, and when you glanced over at the others, you could see a certain dread on their face that peaked your heart rate. What got a bunch of Spider-people so agitated? It must be a real threat.

“Won’t you look at that,” Miguel appeared from the portal, his eyes looking as dead as usual. Following behind him were Jessica and Ben. “The whole gang is here.”

"How did you even find us?" Peter exclaimed in annoyance.

"Your watch, obviously." Miguel pointed at Peter's chest. "Your daughter took it.”

Peter gasped as he looked down at Mayday. He didn't notice it before, but sitting loosely around her wrist was the watch Miguel gave him that he took off before Gwen came to find him. He squeezed his eyes shut—shame on him for letting the same thing happen twice, even though neither was technically his fault.

Hobie breathed out a chuckle at Mayday before he elbowed Pavitr. “Do whatever you want, but I’m telling ya, you got to watch out for the things you say. You’re gonna jinx up the whole place like this.” Bringing his leg up so he could march over to Miles and stand behind him, he bent forward until his face was within Miles's earshot. "I suggest you run home now."

"What? Why?" Miles whispered, stepping away from the proximity. His attention shifted when Peter's obnoxious voice rang through the air.

"Jesus, Miguel! What do you want now?"

"The same thing you all want," Miguel said as he rubbed his wrist. He snapped his head over at Miles, who gulped when his gaze averted to look at you. He stared for a bit too long. "People who are not supposed to be here."

You. That man was talking about you. Miles didn't know what business he had. If anything, he thought himself a much bigger threat. But Miguel was looking at you when he spoke, so it must be.

He bolted the second he made that conclusion. He would deal with it if he later discovered he had come to the wrong one. For now, with the warning from a man whose words he could barely understand and a bunch of context clues he haphazardly strung together on the fly, he was unwilling to take any risk that would make him lose you. Wrapping his arms around your body to hold you into a hug rather than a carry, he instructed you to hang tight and took a few bold steps backward to the skyscraper edge so he could drop off its height.

"Wait, hold on, Miguel!" Peter shot his arm out to squeeze Miguel's shoulder when he saw that Miles would be followed. "You're after the wr–"

"Peter!" Gwen shot out a web aimed at Peter's back and immediately pulled him away from Miguel, preventing the man from telling the truth. Taking the slipping chance, the three slipped past in pursuit of you and Miles.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked incredulously, his eyes following the fading backs of his once colleagues.

Pavitr and Hobie approached them to catch up on their conversation. 

"Let Miguel chase him," she said sternly, her eyes fixated on Peter. "It works in our favor that he is occupied with the wrong Miles. It buys us some time to find our Miles."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no thoughts leaked out. Gwen's logic was sweet and sound. It would make everything so much easier for them if Miguel was temporarily out of the picture. But there was a pierce he felt, through his supposed moral compass, not at the blatant lie of omission he has to tell but at the fact that he would willingly send a grown man after two children, one of whom was just an ordinary civilian.

"Gwen, I don't feel like that's the right thing to do," he sighed.

"Maybe we can try to help both of them?" Pavitr suggested. "We can find Miles as fast as we can and then help the other Miles."

"They won't last," Peter said. "I don't know if that Miles has superpowers, but he's definitely not like us. I don't think their friend is capable of anything, either. Miguel will get to them before we can be done."

"You're saying if we want to help, we ought to do it now," Hobie sniffed.

"That's what I just said."

"I know. I was just repeatin' it."

"We can't afford to be distracted!" Gwen argued, her tone releasing from being firm to a pathetic, exasperated plead. "Don't forget, you're the one who exposed Miles's location in the first place. And now you've exposed ours!"

"Woah–Gwendy, calm down," Hobie said with a light pat on her shoulder. He spun to face Peter, humming at his distraught expression, then turned to meet in a general direction. "We're wasting an awful lotta time arguing about nothing. How about we get a move on, yeah? Pavitr's plan might work if we go now.”

"Yeah! I agree!" Pavitr clapped in agreement. “We just need to go in quick and come out even quicker!" 

“That made no sense,” Peter mumbled. 

“Maybe not to you.” Hobie shrugged.

“Focus, you guys!” Gwen hollered over the wind, catching everyone’s attention. She pursed her lips, her mind filled with a singular goal: save Miles Morales. “I’m going regardless of what you say," she said as she stepped to the edge of the skyscraper. Before she tipped over, she added, "I'm gonna save my Miles."

"Dramatic," Hobie chuckled with big strides forward, seemingly to follow after Gwen. "Better catch up, lads." He clicked his tongue confidently and mocked a salute as he fell off the edge. 

Miles was on the run. You already knew, but that fact punched you in the guts with even more velocity when you realized how quickly your surroundings were passing through. He was no longer holding you in an embrace-like position. After he made it down the skyscraper, Miles hoisted your upper body over his shoulder with his arms circled around your waist so he could better run at his regular speed, which you learned was abnormally fast, much different than the speed he picked when he was strolling around the area. 

Closing up behind you was a man in a Spider suit furiously galloping on all fours. You didn't even know they ran like that. You thought all Spider-people swung with their webs. Running like this may be faster than swinging around. Or perhaps the man's sheer will to catch the two of you amped up his speed. The only reason why Miles was able to periodically distance from Miguel was that he knew this Brooklyn like the back of his palm; all the detours and shortcuts were mapped in his brain, and he knew how to properly mix and match their usage. 

"Miles, he's crazy," you whispered, clutching his shoulders. "He's running like a wolf."

"Tu puta madre–" he spared a glance back and widened his eyes–"why is he chasing us? What did we even do?" 

Hopping off a building and into an alleyway, Miles slipped to the side and hid behind a wall. He pressed his back against the concrete wall to hide behind the shadow. 

The more he ran, the more he saw how it only delayed the consequence of getting caught. He could run home as suggested, but bringing trouble directly to his mother wasn’t ideal. On top of that, it may expose his prowler identity, which was the last thing he wanted. He could keep running, but eventually, he would get tired. He wouldn’t overestimate his ability to escape; a man that size running on all fours has the kind of stamina he could not rival. He had to fight with gimmicks to win, and his first option was to hide.

Taking the time to reposition you on his shoulder, apologizing with amusement when you shivered at his hands gliding past your hips to your waist, Miles carefully placed you back on the ground. When your feet hit the ground, he reached for the crown of your head, squeezing your head and trailing both hands down to your face. He pushed your face together, forcing you to pucker your lips. This was supposed to be a fun night. He felt terrible that this was how things led to. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks. “Are you okay?”

For the time being, you felt like you could be. His hands were warm, and his touch even warmer. 

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” You smiled bitterly once he let go of your face. “He’s here for me, but I don’t know why.”

You haven’t done anything. Even arriving on this Earth was not a purposeful doing. You made no significant changes to this Brooklyn; even if you tried to, you would not have succeeded. You regularly lived as you would have in the universe you came from; staying at home, doing house chores, learning how to cook, getting groceries, watching movies, maintaining a good friendship, and falling in love. None of those were criminal activities! You have done nothing remarkable for a random Spiderman to get so upset with you!

“Be honest, [Name],” Miles started, touching your shoulders. He took a deep breath before squinting. “Are you secretly a world-class criminal?”

“If jumping universes is a crime, then–“ You hummed thoughtfully before shaking your head in disagreement. “Yeah, no. I’d just be a regular criminal because I only jumped once, and it’s by accident, too.”

“Actually, I never asked, but how did you get here?”

You suppressed a burst of laughter. “Are we seriously gonna talk about this now?”

“My bad,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “is now a bad time?”

“A super bad–“ You screamed when a figure abruptly slid upside down beside you. Instinctively, the hand initially reaching for Miles’s face deflected from its path to punch the intruder in the face.

Ben swung slightly on his web, a curse pushed out of his mouth at the impact of your fist. He hadn’t registered you to be a big enough threat that he failed to block your sudden attack. If it had been Miles’s gloved claws swinging at him, he likely would have reacted. Miles smirked, almost feeling a sense of pride at the sheer strength of your punch. While you profusely apologized for doing something you didn’t mean to do, he grabbed your hand and ran down the alleyway. Mid-way through, he tugged harshly at your arm to bring you in front of him so he could scoop you up as he picked up his speed.

“I can actually run pretty fast,” you complained lightheartedly.

“For sure, baby,” he mused, his feet screeching for an abrupt right turn when he heard Ben’s voice calling after you both. 

However, just as he turned a corner, he was met with the wheel end of a motorcycle. Miles raised a hand up to grip the spinning tire. Before he could dig his claws through the material and pop it, he felt himself being pushed back by the heavy force, so he, tensing his arm muscles, attempted to deter the bike's path before the millisecond of him getting thrown back. His back hit a brick wall, knocking his senses everywhere for a brief moment as he haphazardly reached to cover your head. When he looked up, he was only met with the yellow shades of a woman in red. He huffed; if there was any indication that these people were getting fed up, it would be hitting him with a motorcycle.

“Jessica. You caught them!” Ben exclaimed as he emerged from the shadow, a hand massaging his chin that was pulled into a sneer. His voice was weirdly raspy as if he was playing up a character. “That stupid kid punched me. How dare they.”

“You showed up out of nowhere!” you retorted with an accusing finger pointed at him. “Also, shouldn’t you be able to block my punch? You’re Spiderman! You can’t block a punch from a teenager?”

“This kid is talking back to me. I feel a little distraught. I don’t know how to talk to children.”

“Shut up, Ben.” Jessica waved her hand before she turned to you both. She observed as Miles hopped back to his feet and glared at her. You looked less menacing, but your furrowed brows spoke caution and ready disobedience. She sighed. Another pair of moody teenagers. Miguel would not be happy about this. “Look, we don’t have time for this. You need to go back to where you belong.”

You pursed your lips in dismay and shook your head. Miles pushed you toward him when you circled your arms around his neck, and you slightly averted your gaze from the woman to avoid confrontation. Jessica squinted her eyes at the way you two held each other, a sudden inkling developing that she desperately wished to be wrong—you fell in love with someone from a different universe. She already felt bad enough about what had to be done to Gwen. There was no wrong in sticking to what she believed in. It was just unfortunate that she had to treat teenagers mercilessly to do so.

“You two can write letters to each other,” she said after gathering her thoughts and reverting to professionalism. Her job was to return all anomalies to their world, not limited to villains. Getting off her motorcycle, she slowly walked over to Miles, who didn’t get the sense of running away because of her regular speed. When she was within an arm’s length, she grabbed your arm. “We’re leaving.”

“No!” you refused and tried to shove her off, but she was persistent. 

“Dude, stop!” Miles attempted to step out of reach.

“Dude?” Jessica repeated with wide eyes. “Your mama taught you no manners?”

“His mom is great!” you exclaimed as you snatched your arm away from her grip. Your irritated eyes turned into a glare.

Miles nodded. “Yeah, she doesn’t throw a motorcycle at people’s faces.”

“Okay, I’ve had it.” Jessica laughed in disbelief. “I was trying to be nice, but that’s out the window now.”

Deciding to ignore her harsh tugs at your arm, you resorted to making sure you never let go of Miles instead. You intertwined your fingers that met at a point of his neck and buried your face to his shoulders, tuning out the world. Fear lingered in your chest like a haunting ghost, and it dimmed somewhat when you zeroed in on the feeling of Miles’s grip on your body. You were still here. He was still with you, holding onto you with a death grip. And you thought this might resolve itself eventually. Maybe these people would let you go if you two struggled enough together. Or perhaps it wouldn’t end well, but at least you held on as best as possible. At least you tried.

“Miles Morales.” Everyone paused to look behind Jessica’s shoulder. Miguel stood tall and alarmingly brutal just a few feet away. His dead eyes shifted from the boy to you, and he tipped his head into a brief greeting. “And you.”

Jessica took a deep breath; the real threat finally showed up. She released her hand from your arm and turned to face Miguel. There was something she wanted to say, not to deter Miguel from his plan to take you back to your Earth, but rather a few trying words to prevent him from executing any more brutality, especially when you were as harmless as a dove. The last thing Miguel should have on his conscience was inflicting injuries on a regular civilian. It would be good for him in the long run. Before she could open her mouth to speak, though, Miles buckled his knees and jumped up high. He was making a run for it again, but before his feet even touched the top of the wall separating the streets, his body barely turning away from anyone, a red string caught onto your wrist and snapped you out of his arms.

“¡Mierda!” 

He caught onto your ankles, engaging in a tug-of-war with Miguel that did nothing but put a strain on your limbs. Clicking his tongue, he gave one final hard tug at your feet before letting you go. You screamed, your body swinging toward Miguel at full speed while Miles, fully utilizing his boots, ran to sneak up behind the man and shoved him forward so Miguel would collide with your flinging body. Letting Miguel stumble in confusion and, out of instinct, reaching his arms out to catch you from a hard fall, Miles jumped forward and did the job for him. He secured you in his arms, wasting no time to bolt away. But Miguel was phenomenally quick to regain his senses, and his eyes glowed a bright red once he realized how difficult Miles was being.

He leaped forward, fangs and claws out to grab Miles by the back of his neck. As he swung the boy around, you dropped to the floor and knocked your forehead against the dirt. Miguel slammed Miles into the closest wall, denting the red bricks. He squeezes the poor boy's neck, not entirely cutting the air out of his system but suffocating just enough to make Miles feel outrageously uncomfortable.

"Ay, would you stop that, big man? You're gonna kill the kid!"

White webs shot out and attached to each of Miguel's wrists. He could recognize that godforsaken voice anywhere—Hobie Brown. Noticing the webs on his wrists, he groaned lowly in irritation. He might just snap (if he hasn't already, this madman) if he has to come across one more obstacle. Not allowing Hobie a second to pull him away, Miguel squeezed Miles's neck tighter to pull him out of the dented wall and threw him across the alleyway to the other side. The collision collapsed a hole through the bricks, creating an unnecessary ruckus.

"Now you've gone and done it," Hobie muttered, looking at the destruction. 

Your jaw dropped anxiously. You could faintly see Miles under the debris, showing no signs of getting up. He couldn't have died. Not only would that become a personal problem, you simply refused to believe a childhood superhero figure would kill someone you know and love. Scrambling to your feet with quickened breath, you took a weak step forward, his name hanging quietly at the tip of your tongue. When he didn't respond still, you tried to run towards him only to be pulled back at your wrist.

You looked behind your shoulder to find Miguel facing away from you. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost bone-breaking, to serve a warning. The same portal you saw him arrive in opened up, creating a gust of unnatural wind, and he was pulling you toward it. You attempted to break away, but he was much stronger. Nobody around seemed to be able to help you, not even Punk-looking Spiderman, so the only thing left to do was to hyperventilate for sympathy. This felt like an impending doom, where doom was actually just a few steps away on the other side of a portal. 

"Wait, please don't do this. I don't want to go home. I want to stay here!" you cried, a migraine developing from how you kept turning back and forth to look at Miguel and Miles. "Why are you doing this to me? Please stop, please!"

Sympathy rested in the hands of those who couldn't help. Miguel was as stoic as a rock to your pleads, and you somehow expected him to be. It was just heartbreaking to be proven right how difficult things could get. You kept sucking in deep breaths and forgetting to release them, causing your chest to expand awkwardly. You didn't know what to do, but you've got to try something! Anything! 

"Wait–I haven't said it! I haven't–" a deep breath–"I haven't said goodbye! I haven't said I love you! Let me say goodbye, and I promise–" another deep breath–"I promise I'll leave with you. Please. I promise, I cross my heart."

Miguel paused, and that mere action took everyone aback. He pursed his lips, a flicker of remorseful nostalgia showing in his eyes as he recalled the sudden death of his daughter. You didn't remind him of himself, but your wish was similar to what he would have asked for if he ever could re-experience the tragedy—he would want to say goodbye. He would like to tell his daughter he loved her. Heaving a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. At least you were cooperative; he felt he could be kinder in this case.

"Do not try anything stupid."

Once Miguel released your hand, you ran and fell on your knees next to Miles. Pushing the debris off his body, you scooped him onto your lap and caressed his face. Sniffing away a tearful voice, your voice ended croaking anyway when you called his name, "Miles?"

He opened his eyes meekly to see doubles. It took him a good minute to concentrate on your face, and he smirked when he did. The first instinct to take you and run away was defeated by a pained back and exhausted legs. He would not overestimate his ability, even through immense desperation. He wouldn’t get both of you far enough to not get served something worse. This appeared to be it.

”Mi cariño. Hey."

You laughed; you still had no idea what that meant. Miles refused to tell you, and he also got his mom in on it. But you figured it was a term of endearment. Miles took off his gloves to hold your hand, pressing your palm to his face as he stared at you. Somehow, he couldn't muster up the courage to cry despite the continuous drops in his chest. It could be a pride issue, or he didn't want you to see him suffer in your last minute together. Last for now, at least.

"You're going to leave me," he acknowledged.

"Not on purpose," you replied.

“I know,” he hummed. “You love me too much to do that.”

He had thought about it before. There must be people you were dying to go back to in your world. Not a classmate, no. Not even a friend. But a parent, perhaps? Family members? A pet, certainly? There has to be something waiting for you back in your home. There was no method for you to jump universes yet, but Miles figured if you were raging to go home, it would show. The fact that you blended into his life so casually and permanently, to a point where you memorized his schedules and knew where little trinkets were located in his apartment, told him you chose him over the life you used to have. Every day you woke up, you preferred a life with him in it rather than what you had before.

“You do love me, right?” Miles asked for assurance, his brows furrowing. “I didn’t hallucinate that.”

You squeezed his cheeks—gentle palms over bloodied skin, gentle palms over gentle skin. No more violence, not more crimes. He was but a boy you loved. He doubts your affection, and you would go home with him burned in the back of your head, finding his touch trapped beneath your flesh once stripped naked. From a universe away, Miles was all you would remember. Smiling, you peppered kisses over his brows, his eyes, his nose, and finally his mouth. When you pressed your forehead against his, you scrunched your nose and nodded. 

“I do love you, Miles.”

“Yay, score.” He chuckled, then his voice quieted down to a low hum only meant for you to hear. “I love you too, okay? Aqui y allá, mi corazón es tuyo.”

“Time to go, kid!”

You smacked your lips and puffed an exhale. Running your knuckles down the side of Miles’s face, you nodded to yourself as an encouragement to get on your feet. Your feet budged, then your knees, but instead of standing up, you only shrunk your body closer toward Miles. You willed your voice to say a farewell, but it couldn’t under the threat that this goodbye would be your absolute last one, so you cried instead. Fat tears silently rolled down your chin, caught on your tongue, and forced you to choke on them.

Jessica rubbed her eyes as soon as her voice dropped. She shouldn’t have let Miguel talk her into breaking the moment. Instead of moving, you only leaned your body down and pressed Miles to your chest, hugging him. A passive protest, perhaps. You were not directly struggling but weren’t listening to them, either. She eyed Miguel when he sighed in defeat. He wondered which one was worse—chasing a rebellious kid with Spiderman powers or this. This one sure made him feel like the bad guy if anything. 

He reached for a portable trap box and threw it toward you without hesitation. Before it could reach you, though, a web shot out and pulled it backward, causing the gadget hit Miguel in the face.

“You need to reconsider your morals,” Hobie said in a scolding tone as he walked up from behind everyone. “Trapping a kid in a box. Are you mental?”

He has been watching everything unfold from the shadows, and clearly, he realized the differences in how he saw you and how the other three saw you. Your lack of cooperation was a sign of rebellion, which could be considered so to a certain degree. But Hobie knew to consider other factors; he looked at the bigger picture. There was nothing you could do here, literally. One web shoot and you’d be caught, and you probably already knew that. Your so-called sign of rebellion was less chosen and more forced by the hands of emotional turmoil. You were about to be separated from the boy you were in love with. It would make sense that you were physically unable to be the person to walk away.  

If you were going to leave Miles Morales, you must be taken and nothing else. You stood by not leaving him intentionally. Miguel was going to do that for you, but Hobie decided to take a much gentler approach. Trapping you in a box when you’ve done nothing wrong was, as he said, fucking mental. 

“Don’t struggle, yeah? It makes me uncomfortable,” Hobie muttered as he reached for your waist and pulled you up. He slapped his hands on your shoulders dramatically and turned you around. “The portal is gonna feel doozy. You might vomit. If you feel like you’ll vomit, do it when we arrive at HQ. Preferably all over the floor. Just splatter it around like a sprinkler.”

“Huh…?” You did a double-take at what he said. “That’s disgusting.”

“Vomiting? Yeah. Vomiting on an establishment?” He hummed and tilted his head. “Debatable.”

“I’m sorry, but I really am having a hard time understanding you, Spiderman,” you said, your sobs increasing because you thought Hobie might take it as an insult. 

“Why are you apologizing? You haven’t said anything you shouldn’t,” he said, the panic in his voice unnoticeable. “Also, call me Hobie, not Spiderman.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeezed your eyes as if to produce more tears, “I know that’s your name. I just didn’t use it because we’re not close.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hobie mused, a hand slipping from the top of your head as a makeshift pat. “I’m more friends with you than those three over there.”

You let the faintest giggle of disbelief escape your lips and turned back to Miles. Hobie continued to pull you away from the floor and toward the portal, not taking a moment’s rest. You didn’t struggle against him; eventually, your hand slipped from Miles’s.

[miscfandomwrites]

A/N: This is from about two years ago, from my old account. I know this was requested by someone yet I don't have anything saved for a name besides 'anon' so. There's not much to this but figured I'd post it anyways.

Pairing: Avengers x Widow! Reader

Warnings: Flashbacks, food based and major trust issues, reader self-isolates from everyone, everyone is kinda mean, natasha and yelena nearly kill half the avengers, language, angst, fluff(ish) ending

Words: 1.4k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

Summary: Reader escaped the red room with more than just physical scars. At Fury’s request she joined the Avengers for ‘Rehabilitation’ back into society, which led to an awful prank played on her that caused her to lose all trust with them. She hasn’t met Natasha or Yelena yet as they’ve been away on a deep undercover mission..but once they return and learn what has been going on with the reader and the team, and what it’s making the reader relive through, all hell breaks loose.

~~ “It’s a cinnamon poptart, not the blueberry one, I swear by it.” Thor told me as I held the shiny silver package in my hands, debating on whether or not to open it. I was reminded back to last week, when Clint tried the same thing on me. I glanced back up at the god-and he was giving me the puppy dog eyes.

There was a history of the avengers giving me the wrong food. It started out as a joke that made me physically sick enough to the point where I couldn’t eat for almost a week because of it and turned into a joke for them. Well, it wasn’t a joke for me.

I sighed, glancing at the generic wrapper which didn’t tell me shit about what flavour it was. Looked back at Thor and his puppy dog eyes and decided that maybe it was worth a try.

Of course, when I tear open the package it’s the blueberry one. I stared at it for a good minute or so as Sam and Bucky started losing it at my deadpan facial expression, and I just dropped the poptart on the table and turned on my heel and walked away, trying not to remember what happened and blocking out my brain from trying to kill me again.

Steady walking turned into a fast-paced stride, which turned into a jog, then into a full on sprint. I had no idea where the hell I was going, I was too far into my head to tell beyond me descending the back staircase down several flights of stairs. I kept going down,

Down,

Down,

Until I hit a wall, and realized I was at the very bottom of the tower. I didn’t even know that there even was a bottom to the tower until now…and knowing already that it had almost two dozen floors, and the kitchen was almost at the direct top…

I must’ve ran down at least ten or maybe even fifteen flights…

My head was still spinning as I leaned against the wall, the sweat from my body making my clothes stick to me and my legs started to shake slightly. Being a supersoldier had its benefits when it came to fights and physical activity, but even then it had its limits.

My breathing came hard and fast, and I closed my eyes tightly as I turned around, pressing my back against the cold, solidness of the concrete wall and slid down until I could rest my arms on my knees and sucked in one breath, held it for seven seconds, then slowly breathed out through my mouth for ten. I kept repeating the pattern, six, seven, ten, until everything stopped spinning and I felt less light headed.

~

I don’t know how long I was down there, and only took my head off my arms to answer my phone’s consistent buzzing, alerting me to a call. I slid it from my pocking, wincing at the slight protest of my muscles and the phone screen that was still slightly slick from my sweat. I wiped it off on my pant leg and answered it, not bothering to check the contact info.

“Agent (L/N), please do inform me why you are not present at the meeting right now.” a deep voice which I recognized as Fury’s sounded through the speaker. Shit. Meeting. That must mean…

It was six in the evening-I’d left the kitchen around two-

I have been down here for four hours.

I quickly scrambled up, heading to the elevators and pushed the up button as I told Fury I’d be there in less then ten minutes and ended the call. The elevator shot up to my floor as I sniffed my shirt, smelling the sweat and slight mustyness of the basement on it. My body smelled physically fine, but my clothes reeked. Still need deodorant however.

Once on my floor I quickly threw off my clothes as I rushed into my room, grabbing some of the first clothes I saw and changing into them then heading to the bathroom to look semi-presentable. While sure, it probably wasn’t necessary for me to ‘freshen up’ I didn’t want any comments about my appearance or smell, better yet I didn’t want any mention of me and didn’t know why Fury was bothering me to join the avengers since I wasn’t a ‘main’ member.

I finished getting presentable and glanced at what I was wearing, a pair of grey faded jeans that I tucked a black tshirt into and had pulled on my olive green converse, and right before I left my bedroom I grabbed my green button up jacket and slid it on, hoping it’d pair better with the shoes. Thankfully I left my bow gloves on the small bookcase next to the elevator and decided to get those on a whim as I rushed into the elevator and told FRIDAY to take me to the meeting floor.

I pulled my hair up into a slightly messy bun and called it good, soothing any wrinkles and tucking in my shirt more and just fidgeting with my clothes in general.

The avengers, or at least the ones who I’ve seen since I started living in the tower-Thor, Sam, Bucky, Tony, Steve, Bruce, Peter, and a few others whose names I didn’t bother to remember, I did not trust at all. And that was putting it lightly. Ever since the incident when I first started living here-which was not my choice mind you, Fury told me to live here so here I am-I tried my best in avoiding them at all costs. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck one on one with any one of them…especially the males.

Natasha and her sister, Yelena, have been on a almost eight month mission and I haven’t met them yet, but there was one thing the three of us had in common: The red room.

Memories I’d rather not remember were thankfully interrupted by FRIDAY chiming at me and opening the door of the elevator, and I walked out into the conference / meeting room.

~

“Look what the cat dragged in, finally.” Tony stated as I walked to the meeting table, taking a seat at the end of it. I glanced around noticing two new faces-females, and from the red and yellow hair I guess Natasha and Yelena.

“Took you long enough.” Steve glared at me as I tried to remain indifferent.

I did notice both Yelena and Natasha stiffen when they saw me, and even more so when they saw my slight reaction to their comments. I didn’t bother introducing myself, figuring they probably damn remember who I was.

Of course, I had a different nickname in the room, but those days were long gone.

Fury nodded at me and explained what the two had dug up from their reconnaissance mission, explaining how there was a series of various drug cartels that had access to a substance that not only was highly illegal, but magical in nature.

I turned out during the last half of it, upon hearing Sam and Bucky having their heads together and snickering, occasionally glancing my way. At some point I heard whispers of what would happen if they caught me alone, and at that point I was done-black creeped on the edge of my vision as I rolled the chair back and I remembered that I hadn’t eaten in awhile. Suddenly a loud slam echoed through the room, caused by Natasha slamming her hand on the table, standing up.

“Will you two shut the fuck up before I decide to kill you?”

I stared in shock as she glared at Sam and Bucky, Yelena also standing with her, glaring and had a knife palmed in her hand already.

“You have no fucking idea what it was like for her, for us going through that room and all you’ve been doing is making her fucking miserable. I’ve been getting reports on what you two’ She turned and glanced around the entire team at this ‘on what everyone has been doing to her. You’re lucky I was too deep into the mission or I would’ve come here sooner.” She turned to Fury and he nodded at her, and then spoke up.

“Natasha and Yelena will be taking care of the black listed missions from now on, and they will be taking care of miss (L/N) as well. Upon their wishes, they are no longer a part of this team.”

Both the girls turned to me, Yelena sliding her knife away and Natasha holding out a hand to me.

“Come on, Серебряная Лиса, we’ve got you.”

We’ve got you.

(Silver fox)

[captain-mj]

The Vampire AU

The au no one asked for but by God will I deliver

Soap laid on the luxurious bed, the robe around him fluttering and exposing most of his body. It shimmered, a dark red color, and across from him was Ghost. His Ghost. The Ghost. 

The skull mask made it hard to see his expression, but Soap could read the hunger in his eyes without a problem. A desperation that would make a lesser man nervous. But Soap could never be nervous. Not of Ghost. 

He crossed the floor quickly, the air around him bending slightly. It made him glow. And then he was on Soap, touching him with his gloves and feeling him up. His large hips pressed between his thighs, forcing his legs further apart. 

Pulling the mask up enough to expose his fangs, Ghost sank his teeth into his throat and ripped it out, blood spraying everywhere. 

Soap’s alarm clock broke him from the dream and he buried his face in the pillows and screamed for a few minutes. 

Interviewer: So, what exactly do you like about your…

Soap: The technical term is Master, but everyone keeps insisting I just call him Ghost.

Interviewer: Got you. So your Ghos-

Soap: Well, he’s not really mine. I’m his but he’s not really mine. I just kinda work for the guy.

Interviewer: And in exchange he…

Soap: Will turn me into a vampire!

Interviewer: So how long have you been working here?

Soap: Six years. 

Interviewer: Uh huh. And what do you like about Ghost?

Soap: Oh, he’s perfect. Tall, dark, mysterious. Never actually seen his face, but I’m sure he’s handsome. Never takes the mask off unless he’s feeding. He could kill me easily. He has a very sexy voice. His accent is from modern day Manchester instead of being centuries old! Apparently he changes it every few decades. I wonder what his original voice sounded like and-

The Interviewer stopped taking notes and tried to politely withstand the next thirty minutes of Soap gushing about anything and everything he could think of about Ghost. They decided not to ask about the whole “could kill me easily” part. That was this guy’s prerogative. 

Interviewer: So, what’s Ghost like?

Rodolfo: He’s a fucking loser.

Interviewer: Really? His familiar-

Rodolfo: Is lovely and all, but he has terrible taste in men. I’ve seen Ghost lay on the ceiling for six hours straight, during the night no less, because he was pouting. 

Interviewer: And why was he pouting?

Rodolfo: Soap was doing laundry. The laundry Ghost ordered him to do. So Soap couldn’t hang around him. Then, he wasted what time he could’ve spent with Soap on the ceiling.

Interviewer: oh…

Rodolfo: Like I said. Fucking loser. You’re not allowed to call him that though. Only me.

Interviewer: Yeah… Okay.

Soap did like he was told and ignored that there was a person watching him. He woke up a few hours before sunrise and dusted just like every other morning. He also put out an ad online pretending to be a single woman looking to lose her virginity. Usually the men that came would be sleazebags so it both cleaned up the streets and meant easy meals for the vampires. 

Gaz would always say hi to him when he left for some party. Sometimes, he’d try to stop him and get a rise out of him, but Soap had long since learned how to put a pause on his feelings. If Gaz fed from him, Ghost would get all weird. Talking about nutritional value and that Soap smelled funny. 

Soap had taken four showers the first time it happened but eventually he put it together. 

Then, he woke up Ghost. Well, wake up was a loose term. Half of the time, Ghost would already be up. He more went to Ghost. His room had blackout curtains so if he got up during the day time, he didn’t have to risk scorching himself. It was also the plainest. Rodolfo and Alejandro’s room was gorgeous, full of rich colors and soft fabrics. Gaz had strobe lights and neons. Tons of weird furniture too. He insisted none of them were a sex thing, but Soap didn’t believe him. 

Really, really, did not believe him. 

But Ghost kept his plain and usually only had candles. For once, he was still in his coffin when Soap came to get him at sundown. 

Soap gently knocked before he lifted the large lid. 

Ghost was… large. Very, very large. Besides being 6’4, he was broad. Big arms, big shoulders. Just… big. It definitely did not influence any of Soap’s decisions. Nope. Not at all. 

Thick black fabric covered every inch of his body, besides leather gloves on his hands and a ski mask on his face. Soap silently thanked God he had managed to get him away from the loose fitting balaclava he wore originally. It looked… 

Anyway, the sky mask was an improvement. It had a skull design on it, though there were fangs added. 

Soap only snapped back into himself when he noticed Ghost’s eyes were open. 

“Johnny. Are you just going to keep staring? You’re blocking my way out.”

“Oh, of course, sir.” Soap stepped back and offered Ghost his hand. Sometimes he took it, sometimes he didn’t. Really depended on the day. 

Today was one of the good days where he did. Even through the leather, Soap could feel just how cold Ghost’s skin was. It was borderline frigid and he wondered, not for the first time and definitely not the last, if it would hold heat or simply give him frostbite if they pressed against each other. 

Ghost’s hand left his once he was on the floor. Sometimes, Soap wondered why he walked the way he did. There was something stiff, like a general, about his posture but he had a certain amount of grace that didn’t match how the other vampires walked. All vampires were graceful. Cat like. But Ghost always seemed like he was floating. Feet barely touching the ground. 

Soap helped him out of the thick robe he slept in. It felt soft and he assumed it was used a bit like a blanket. Ghost pulled on his jacket but his eyes followed Soap. 

“Did yo-”

“Laundry is done. Place is dusted. And I’m currently setting up a virgin guy to come visit.” 

As if something heard him, his phone dinged. Someone responded to the ad, asking how soon he could come over. 

What a fucking loser. 

He was using photos of a girl from only fans (with her permission, she made him pay a small fee, but when he explained it was a “To catch a predator” type thing, she thought it was cool), so it was a hot woman, but still.

Soap checked it and responded to the message, saying the sooner the better. 

Ghost reached over and slowly patted Soap’s head, making him beam. It was the closest thing he got to praise from the guy. 

“So, what would you like to do, sir?” Soap smiled at him. 

Ghost hummed, looking away. There was a large mirror and while his clothes could be seen, nothing else could. Soap couldn’t see his mouth, but he knew he was just about to speak when someone knocked at the front door. 

“Go answer.” Ghost ordered. 

Soap nodded quickly and went downstairs, noticing Alejandro and Rodolfo when he passed their room, in various states of undress, he decided to just ignore that. So no one they were expecting. 

He opened the door and had to look slightly up at the man in front of him. 

The man had a fishing hat, a shirt that said “Fish fear me, women love me” and a pair of military fatigues. He stared into Soap and there was a brief pause.

“Hello, sir.” Soap noticed his ears. They had a large point and when he glanced at his hands, he noticed the dark claws.

Interviewer: So what do those features mean?

Soap: Means he’s an older vampire. As I’m sure you noticed, my vampires look mostly human, besides their fashion. But once they start getting older, they look less and less human. So the less human they are, the more respect you’re supposed to show. 

Interviewer: Oh. Got it. 

“Price.” The man responded before just simply staring at him.

Soap winced and looked back. “Uh… Master? Alejandro? Rodolfo?” He half shouted. “We have a visitor!” 

“Uh. Little familiar. Invite me.” Price didn’t sound rude, maybe a tad impatient, but not quite rude. 

“My name is Soap.”

Price tilted his head. “Uh… Okay. Anyway, is Simon here?”

“No?” Soap frowned. He ran through everyone in the house. “Yeah, no. We don’t have a Simon here.” 

Alejandro shoved Soap out of the way. “John! I didn’t know you’d be visiting! Come in.” Now that he had been welcomed, Price quickly stepped in the door. 

“Ale. Very, very nice to see you. How have you been?” Price smiled. His fangs flashed, wicked sharp and a pearly white, just like all the other vampires in the house. 

Soap quickly stepped back to let them talk, but he didn’t leave, pretending to be doing anything besides eavesdropping, which is exactly what he was doing. 

“I haven’t seen you since they invented lightbulbs.” Alejandro grinned. His clothing was a little more old fashioned. Closer to what was expecting for a vampire at least. Soap thought it was funny that the youngest of the three vampires (not including Gaz, but Soap felt he didn’t really count), was the only one that still wore clothes from his own era. Alejandro was still up there in age, almost two centuries, but with Rodolfo being over three centuries and Ghost being around eight, well… it didn’t seem that old. 

Soap couldn’t really talk that much, because he was 26, but semantics.

The two of them babbled on about the changes in technology and how hard it was to keep up and how touch screens were so unreliable because they only picked things up half of the time. 

“They have gloves.” Soap interrupted, not thinking much of it until Alejandro glared at him. 

“Gloves?” Price frowned. 

“Yeah, they have stuff in the finger tips to let you use a phone. It’s because when humans wear the gloves, they can’t use the touch screen either. Gh- My master uses them.”

Price hummed. “Might have to get me a pair. Phones look so fun! I see why you keep him around, Alejandro. He’s not as dumb as most humans.”

Soap decided not to take offense to that, as a human.

“Oh, he’s not mine. He’s Simon’s.” Alejandro put his hands behind his back, altering his stance a bit.

“Nevermind. I guess he is a little stupid. He said there was no Simon here.” 

Soap felt like he was short circuiting. “You mean Ghost?”

Alejandro snapped his fingers. “Oh! That’s right! We never told you his name. He doesn’t exactly need to know it, ya know?”

Price hummed. “And he never asked?”

“I did ask!”

“No, never thought to ask us.” 

“But I did! You told me familiars don’t get to know!!!”

“Wow. Humans.” 

Soap got the distinct feeling he was being fucked with. 

Then Ghost appeared. Or more accurately, came out of his room. The world shifted, Soap’s focus, like always, being on him. Ghost quickly made his way down the stairs. His boots hugged his legs, going all the way up to his knees. He had chosen one of his longer coats so it fluttered around him. 

Soap quickly wiped his mouth and tried to focus on something besides how devastatingly hot Ghost looked at all times. 

“My little batling!” 

BATLING

LITTLE 

BATLING

Soap choked and half expected Ghost to kill Price where he stood, vampire or not. Alejandro wheezed a little. 

Instead, Ghost visibly shrank down. “Sire… I am not a fledgeling anymore.” There was an accent there, and not his usual Manchester one. It was almost lyrical. Soap wished he’d use it more. “I’m also almost a millennia old.”

“Yeah, but you’re still the spunky soldier I turned! Still wear the mask I see.” Price’s disappointment was palpable, but Ghost, Simon, just shrugged it off.

“Yeah. Well. Don’t like my face being seen.” 

Alejandro chipped in. “Awe, are you anxious, little batling?” 

Ghost hit him so hard Alejandro’s head popped off and Soap let out a small scream.

“Suppose it’s better than when you first turned.” Price completely ignored that Ghost just fucking killed him.

Rodolfo fluttered down the stairs. “Hello John! You look lovely!” Price smiled immediately.

“And you look just as lovely as the last time I saw you.”

Soap was shocked. They were married for decades!!! And he just moves on?

“Get your nasty mitts off my husband!” Alejandro’s decapitated fucking head started to yell. 

Rodolfo rushed over. “Mi noche! Mi pobre amor!” He scooped up his head and kissed his cheek before reattaching it. 

Soap tried not to gag. 

Alejandro’s limbs quickly started to work again and he kissed Rodolfo several times. 

Ghost was already pulling his sire far away from him, the two of them falling into line like old friends. 

“Do you have anything to eat? Your familiar looks delicious but I know how hard good help can be to find.”

Soap flushed and it only got worse when Ghost gave him a passing glance. “Didn’t you say someone would be coming over soon?”

“Yes, around 10. It’s 9:30 now, so shouldn’t be too long, sir.” He beamed at Ghost and Ghost just shrugged him off to keep walking. Soap tried to not let that get to him. He never liked when Ghost was in his moods like this and this new guy seemed to trigger them.

Price and Ghost disappeared and Soap was left standing there awkwardly. Alejandro had wandered off, probably back to Rodolfo. 

He sighed and started to tidy up. If he knew a guest was coming, he would’ve prepared more. Probably tried ot get multiple guys to come. Or ladies if that was more this guy’s taste. Luring women in was a lot harder, but he could’ve tried! He still had a tinder set up that he could’ve used. 

Soap fiddled with his hands, not sure what to do with himself. By this time of night, usually he hung out with Ghost, keeping him entertained. Without him, he didn’t really have anything to do. He already cleaned the place up before he went to bed the morning before.

Soap sighed and sat down, trying to lure more people to the house. 

Around midnight, after all the people who came in were dragged downstairs and eaten with Soap not having to lift a finger, the vampires decided to have a night out. Ghost grabbed on to Soap’s arm and tugged him along, clearly wanting him to come too. He pulled away from him just long enough to change, ignoring that his foot kept tapping and his growing impatience that Soap wasn’t willing to go out in what was basically pajamas. Soap also ignored that Ghost didn’t leave the room, but he clearly wasn’t looking at him undressed. 

When he was done, Ghost yanked him along and Soap had to jog to keep up. They fell in line with the other three and went to a nearby nightclub. Soap noticed it was for humans, not one of the vampire focused ones they usually went to, but just brushed it off. 

Ghost quickly scouted the darkest corner table and went to hide there, Soap followed along. He sat next to Ghost. Rodolfo went to sit with them and Alejandro quickly grabbed him and yanked him to the dance floor, immediately grabbing a handful of his ass. The two of them were dressed like people from the 1800’s and Soap tried to pretend he didn’t know them because it was honestly a little embarrassing. 

Rodolfo’s tongue ended up down Alejandro’s throat. 

Embarrassing. 

Alejandro said something that was clearly horrid in Spanish. The bartender looked positively horrified. 

Very embarrassing. 

Very fucking embarrassing. 

Soap looked at Ghost, suddenly making eye contact with him. Ghost must’ve been staring at him. He tried not to let that thought get to him. 

“Can I get you anything, master?”

Ghost clearly grimaced. “Ghost or sir, Johnny. Master thing feels weird.”

“Need anything, sir?” 

“Unless you’re willing to drink bourbon and let me suck you dry later.” 

Soap choked on the scotch he had. “What?”

“I’d have to kill you though. To really get a good taste.” Ghost said it so matter of fact that Soap was pretty sure the sexual way it sounded wasn’t on purpose. “And that would be a shame.” 

Soap quickly drank his scotch. “How do you even know what bourbon taste like?”

“There was a similar drink when I was alive. Also, for a couple of years, I lived near a bar that only served bourbon. Once your blood has enough alcohol in it, I can taste it.”

“Can it get you drunk?”

“Yeah. Don’t like getting drunk though that’s when bad stuff happens.” Ghost moved away. “You should enjoy yourself. Go talk to people.” 

“And leave you alone?”

“Yes. Leave me alone.” 

Oh. 

Soap watery smiled at him and nodded, quickly leaving. He went to the bar and ordered another drink. 

Price glanced at him, but already a woman was trying to flirt with him and Soap didn’t want to interrupt the two. Instead, he just took the drink he ordered and downed it. 

Soap made sure not to get more than tipsy. Even if his vampires didn’t get drunk, unlikely, he wanted to be alert in case he was needed. 

Someone moved closer about an hour after his little exile. Handsome guy. Tall, built. If he looked a bit like Ghost, that was between Soap and God. He talked and it was clear he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the shed, but Soap didn’t care about that. As long as he was a good lay, that would work. And if he could make it quick. Maybe they could just go to an alleyway. 

The man, Craig? Greg? Caleb?, went pale and looked up right as Soap felt Ghost’s hand on the back of his neck, grabbing him like a puppy he was scruffing. The cold leather pressed tight against his skin, making him shiver. 

“Ghost?”

“Johnny.” He said it with an exhale. “Wait outside.”

“What?”

“Wait outside for me.” Ghost forced him up and away, unnatural strength and where he grabbed him combining so Soap couldn’t exactly fight back. He frowned at him but did go outside after deciding to just not question it. 

Soap sighed and leaned against the wall near the door and lit a cigarette. He had been trying to quit, but it was hard. He took a deep puff and watched the smoke then drift to the sky. 

Soap started to count down the minutes before breaking and getting his phone out. The thick concrete walls around the nightclub kept it pretty much sound proof. It was so the music wouldn’t bother everyone on the street. 

Ghost didn’t usually ask these things of him. He didn’t like it. 

Soap got on tinder and wanted for someone to be rude to him or condescending. He scheduled dates in areas that were secluded enough the vampires could snatch the victim but not so secluded as to ring alarm bells. 

Rodolfo stepped out, Soap could tell by the sound his shoes made. He grabbed him and Soap flushed. “Maybe we should have you for dessert huh?” 

Soap shivered in his grasp. “Don’t think Ghost would be too happy about that.” He turned around and had to resist the urge to flinch back. 

Rodolfo was soaked in blood. He must’ve realized the state he was in because he let go. His hands had left bloody prints on Soap’s clothing. “Thought it’d be fun to clear the place out.”

“Ah… That why Ghost told me to wait outside?”

“Told him he shouldn’t bother, but he wasn’t sure if we’d recognize you if you got scared. Would you have gotten scared?” Rodolfo smiled at him. “I don’t think so. I mean last time I ate in front of yo-” 

Soap got flustered and grabbed his cross necklace through his shirt. “Rodolfo!” He kept it on for the exact scenario Rodolfo mentioned. If one of them ever had too much bloodlust, ever didn’t realize it was him, he could pull it out. Never had to use it before, luckily. But it was always there. A weight on his chest. 

“The sex we had was phenomenal.” Rodolfo assured, as if that was why Soap interrupted him. Maybe to him, that’s what it seemed like. They were so… shameless when it came to sex. Soap was almost jealous of it. Catholic guilt and the devastating fact he was human kept him from ever having that. “I can see why Ghost keeps you around.”

“Oh, Ghost and i have never…”

“NEVER???” Rodolfo laughed. “Seriously?? Huh. Guess it makes sense.” 

Ghost came out with Alejandro hanging all over him, the two of them carrying each other basically. “I think that last guy… had more than just alcohol.” Ghost said while Alejandro made a motion to his nose to show it was likely cocaine. 

Rodolfo laughed. “I told you two he smelled funny. Where’s Price?” 

Alejandro opened his jacket to show where a bat was hanging on the inside of it. “Got tired and decided to take a name.” 

“Old fucking man.” Ghost grinned, mask still pulled up. Soap took in what he could. Even bloody, he could make out more features than he could before. 

Soap followed slightly behind and Rodolfo led them. Alejandro started singing some old drinking song in Spanish and Ghost hummed along, stumbling a little. Without thinking, Soap put his hand on his back to right him, only realizing when he felt Ghost stiffen beneath his hands. Before he could pull away and apologize for touching him without warning, Ghost’s arm was around his shoulder, yanking him closer. He used Soap to help balance himself and Alejandro. 

“Ghost, if I turn into a bat can you carry both of us?”

“No.”

“What if we all turn into bats and Soap carries us?”

Ghost paused and looked at Soap, as if asking permission.

“Oh… Uh… Sure?” Soap had a hoodie on but he managed to fit Price and Alejandro in his hoodie pocket. Ghost wiggled directly into his hoodie before he could offer to let him ride on his shoulder, instead poking his head out of the neck of it, right under Soap’s head. Rodolfo, not one to walk if it could be avoided, hid in the hoodie. 

Soap decided not to point out they could just, ya know, fly home. Instead, he gently carried his family back to the house. He thought about a few things and wondered briefly if Price would be his grandsire when Ghost turned him. 

Would they do things like this with him? He also wondered what Gaz was doing. For good reasons, they didn’t go to the club he was at, probably not wanting to mess with him feeding, but he kinda wished he was there. Gaz probably would’ve waited outside with him. 

Ghost suddenly moved and Soap put an arm on him through his hoodie to support him. He felt him get cozier in the hoodie before stilling again. 

Once home, they all disappeared to their respective rooms. Sunrise was a lot closer than he realized and he suddenly felt sick for not rushing home faster, even if none of them cared. 

Fuck, he’d probably have to burn the hoodie. It was disgusting. All of them had so much blood on them and it was now all over all his clothes. 

He grumbled as he shoved his clothes and all of the vampires’ clothing, after they so graciously gave them to him to clean, into the bathtub and dumped a bunch of hydrogen peroxide and cold water. 

Gaz came home and had brought coffee for both of them. Must’ve been a great night because he was glowing and didn’t even try to steal a bite from Soap, which he was grateful for. Soap started to clean and Gaz watched him. 

Interviewer: Oh, we didn’t talk much earlier.

Gaz: Yeah we did.

Interviewer: I don’t… 

They notice they have notes from them discussing how Gaz is an energy vampire that feeds off excitement and happiness. And how after those feedings, memories can get fuzzy about them. 

Gaz: So yeah.

Interviewer: So why did you bring Soap coffee?

Gaz: The happier he is, the better the house vibe. Plus, his happiness and gratitude is delicious. Not for a meal, too sweet, but he’s a nice little snack. 

Interviewer: Huh. 

Note to self, they’re all kinda selfish assholes. 

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 21

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 21: new things

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

Winter came and with it lots of new things.

For starters, Lucifer and I found out how to let the shadow souls move on. I had to give them my own energy and hand them off to him. While he wasn't the one who made judgement on a soul, he had the power to send the soul to those who did.

The only problem with this was that it required Lucifer's presence and left me utterly exhausted. I had killed hundreds of opponents as a ring fighter so letting them all pass would take a long time.

Another new thing was our Demon seamstress and architect, Arleen. She had lived on the surface for most of her life with her single mother, who taught her everything she knows of thread work. She helped her mother run her store while attending a big university for architecture. After the big Demon reveal, she and her mother ran for Hell, quickly realizing it wasn't that much better. There was no debate when she saw our posters.

She instantly became a celebrity in the haven. Not only did her Demon side stand out, beautiful red butterfly wings and a long, thin matching tail, but her charming personality caught all men, women, and children. She walked and spoke with an air of elegance and never turned away a sad soul. Althea was grateful for her since everyone had deemed the healer as also a therapist. She now had more time to herself.

Arleen was always making something. She had dozens of requests for certain types of clothes or outfits since everyone pretty much wore the same thing. Husker was in charge of a group that would go out to get the materials she needed.

She liked to spend time outside and thus, people would sit around her like children listening to a bedtime story while she worked on her current project. Althea and I both noticed a sense of overwhelment from her after the first month. I spoke to Vivian, our teacher, and she agreed to convince some of the older teenagers to start learning how to sew. Arleen worked well with the teenagers who felt like they were finally giving something back to their community.

Alastor and I had come up with the idea to keep the haven wrapped in a warm greenhouse during the day. Snow turned to rain as soon as it touched the 'shield' and the temperature was kept nice and warm. The responsibility switched between me, Alastor, Husker, and Charlie.

My relationship with Alastor was...increasing? Getting better? I felt a combination of nervousness and excitement whenever I was around him. I noticed he had a tendency to leave a rose nearby, whether that was in my room or on the side table when I was reading. He also initiated fleeting touches like our shoulders bumping or hands 'accidentally' brushing.

It soon became a habit for me to spend time in his room in the evening. I had grown comfortable enough that I laid on the window seat to read while he sat at the table to do his writing. I enjoyed seeing him in such a calm state. His glasses sat on the edge of his nose, eyes focused and jumping slightly to read the words and copy them down, his claws gripping the pen and moving it smoothly across the paper, and his long, elegant legs shifting every so often.

We had decided not to reinstate the deals. I didn't think it was necessary to try to keep him out of my head since he had been doing well with respecting my boundaries.

He didn't think it was necessary to keep our second deal since we usually started our evenings drinking each other's blood. He had found a way to use his magic to make it less painful and my style of magic could heal the wounds perfectly.

My decision to keep our first deal void was reinforced when nightmares started to plague me again. These were normal nightmares but they weren't any less terrifying. I dreamt of Reagan being killed by Blackwater or turning on me and driving a knife into my heart. I dreamt of Blackwater trapping both Alastor and I and killing him in front of me.

After most of the nightmare had happened, Alastor's presence would seep into my mind and push the fear out. He couldn't nix it altogether, but it was better to feel the after-comfort.

Blackwater had gone underground again. His factories had been abandoned, minus all the inventions and everything, and remained hidden from everyone's radar. I somehow always managed to bring him up, Alastor patiently trying to tell me everything would be fine.

"We will know if he even comes close to the haven," he answered one night.

"But we won't. I didn't even feel his presence in the forest before he hit me. He can hide himself somehow."

"We have a large group, dare I say close to an army, of Demons who are constantly watching out for danger on our borders. He will be found."

"What about the ocean? He could come...from...there..." My words slowed as Alastor stood up to remove his jacket, revealing a red button up underneath. He had straps over his shoulders from his waistband and a single one over his chest to connect them. He draped the jacket over the back of the chair and returned to his seat. His eyes found mine.

"I do enjoy making you speechless," he mused, face in his palm.

My face reddened. I wanted to make a retort but failed, the words dying on my tongue. I let out a huff and returned to my book. I was lounging comfortably on the window seat, wind softly whistling against the glass.

I'm not sure when, but Alastor had begun signing along to the radio. Not humming. Singing. It took one song to have my book on my stomach and eyes closed. I felt his mind brush mine and let him push through. My entire body felt comfortably warm, as if he was embracing me, something I doubt he's done since his mother and sister passed.

No words could describe the state I was in. Content, happy, and safe are all good words, but they still couldn't capture it. I was practically in a trance from the sound of his radio filtered voice singing the soft tunes. I didn't want it to stop. I could stay like this for all of eternity.

Smoke, like a bonfire, reached my noise a second before it was replaced by a rainy, earthy scent. I pushed further, wanting to surround myself with nature where I belonged. I felt like I was in a patch of tall, soft grass and rolling around in it on a summer afternoon.

My dreams continued. I found myself flying through the sky and through the soft clouds, or down in a stream enjoying the cool running water over my face. Nature was beautiful. Nature was safe. I wanted to meld myself and become one with it.

I stretched out my arms and legs, lazily pulling myself out of the sweet dream. It was the best I had slept in...ever. I felt refreshed and warm, perfectly comfortable and unwilling to get out my bed.

But it wasn't my bed.

My heart skipped a beat as I realized the sheets were not mine. I slowly lifted my head to find Alastor asleep beside me, head turned away and a single hand underneath the pillow.

I forced my claws to retract so I wouldn't puncture the soft sheets. I ran a hand over my body to feel my clothes still on me. I didn't believe he would do something like that but it was an innate fear.

The room was dark, save the single day of sunlight managing to poke through the heavy red curtains. The air felt thick and heavy, not in a suffocating way, but in a way that said nothing and no one had moved in hours. The fire was dead and his papers were still scattered on the table, pen and glasses sitting atop.

I turned back to look at him, half expecting him to be smiling at me, but he remained asleep. His chest rose and fell with every breath he took. He wore a black long sleeve of some kind but the rest of him was hidden under the covers.

I used my magic to stay as quiet as possible as I climbed out of bed. He stirred and I froze. When his eyes didn't open, I continued. I had backed all the way to the door, hand on the handle, when his voice suddenly sliced through the silence, "I'm awake, you know."

My breath caught in my throat. My hand tightened around the handle as he moved to sit up. His hair was a little messy and his eyes were half open as he fought off sleep.

"I-I was trying to be quiet," I stuttered. "I'm s--I'm sorry. I'll leave." Before he could say anything, I slipped out of his room and closed the door behind me. I looked at my own door but froze. Standing in the hallway, at the top of the stairs, was Angel Dust. Husker's old, small room neighbored mine.

We just stared at each other for a moment. Our minds were trying to register what the other was doing. Angel recovered the fastest and had a wide grin on his face.

"Doing more than kissing?" he teased.

My face turned bright red. I ran for my door but before closing it I said, "Guess the haven doesn't have a lot of privacy."

I stayed in my room until I felt Husker's presence go down the stairs. In my usual attire, I made breakfast with him in the kitchen. We were both comfortably silent as we cooked and moved expertly around the counter.

Once we sat down, my ears picked up Alastor's movement. I heard his shadow going through the walls and picked up conversation to avoid any with him.

"So, how's Angel?" I asked.

He was pouring alcohol into his coffee. He looked at me sideways. "How should I know?"

"Because he was coming out of your room this morning."

All his fur stood up and he choked on his coffee, earning a laugh from me. "It's not what you think. We were just..."

"Sleeping together?" Alastor manifested behind us, making us jump. He was back in his usual attire.

"We weren't having sex if that's what you're trying to get at." An angry cat growl murmured in the back of his throat.

"Just sleeping next to each other?" I offered, using all my effort not to look at Alastor and keep my voice casual.

"Exactly. Now shut up and eat." He shoved the plate closer to me.

"You know," I said next, trying to avoid any silence with Alastor around, "maybe you should request something from Arleen. Get you a top to match these." I gently tugged on the straps over his shoulders.

"Maybe I'll go back to the color orange." He made a pointed look at Alastor who was staring out the window over the sink.

"Go back?"

"I used to wear orange a lot before I came under Alastor. Apparently he thought I looked better in red."

"Indeed you do," Alastor agreed, not yet looking over at us. It made me nervous not to see his face, but I wasn't sure I could handle meeting his eyes either.

We ate in silence for the most part. Once we had finished, Husker noticed the time on the wall and panicked. He had to run out to get more materials and resources with his group. I told him not to worry about the dishes and he nuzzled his nose to the side of my head as a thank you. It felt good to have a brother figure.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I moved to the sink to wash the dishes. Alastor moved to stand by the backdoor, arms folded behind his back and eyes on me. I was too nervous to see if he had his cane or not.

I took my time cleaning the dishes since it was just plates and silverware for two. He remained dead silent until I inevitably finished, dried, and put them away.

I dried my hands and finally met his eyes. "What is it?"

"Did I overstep?" His radio filter was off.

I looked at him for a moment, hands mindlessly drying nothing on my skin. I touched our minds and felt a small pulse of nervousness that wasn't my own. He was genuinely concerned.

"I don't...I don't think so." I hung the towel on the cabinet handle and slid my hands in my pants pocket. "I mean...I think that was the best sleep I've ever had."

The bottom of his eyes scrunched a little and his eyebrows lifted, telling me the smooth smile was genuine now. He crossed the kitchen to stand in front of me, hand out and waiting.

"I had a restful sleep myself. Perhaps we can make it more frequent?"

His forwardness was making my face warm and my heart run twice its speed. It caught in my throat and I had to swallow before I answered, placing my hand on top of his and watching each claw slowly enclose around it. He turned it over and placed a light kiss on the back of my hand.

"That would be nice."

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

Author's Note:

Touch starved, my little devils? I've had this scene stuck in my head since like A1 part 17

Also, welcome new OC Arleen!

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

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch

[midnighthazee]

Greenridge ABO Series

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Characters:

I just kinda made things up for them/their personalities. Sorry if it's weird or cringe. Also.... sorry to be another "Alpha I.N." story as well but I like the idea lol

Omega Y/N L/N

- Bought at a young age by the Nyko pack. 

- Abused by them (mostly the alpha) and forced submission (almost died from a sub drop once).

- Lived with them for nearly ten years.

- Convinced you that the neighboring packs are worse than he is....they would kill her just for being on their property unwelcomed.

GREENRIDGE PACK

Alpha Chan

Leader of the Greenridge Pack

Amber eyes, black hair

True Alpha known to be ruthless

Rumour is he killed his older brother to be Alpha (did not, was there when he was murdered and got blamed)

Protective of his own 

Secretly a softie for those he holds dear - barely sleeps worrying over his pack

Doesn’t do well with disobedience/defiance

Usually with Jisung or Seungmin during his ruts

Alpha Minho

Second to Chan

Menace

Brown hair, dark eyes

Doesn’t open up to people easily

Refuses to submit to anyone but Chan

Helps guide Jeongin and teach him how to control his Alpha urges

House chef

Favors Jisung to help with his rut

Gets aggressive leading up to and during his ruts if he doesn’t get what he wants

Beta Changbin

Head Beta

Dark hair, dark eyes

Keeps the other Betas in check

In charge of training to keep everyone in shape and fight ready

Also does interrogation with Minho and tortures if needed

Intimidating but softie

Gets babyish and pouty leading up to his rut (and during)

Pouts and begs for Hyunjin to help with his rut (eventually Hyunjin reluctantly caves)

Beta Hyunjin

Quiet, keeps to himself

Best tracker and hunter

Black hair, dark eyes

Tech savvy and good at reading people

Becomes clingy and touchy leading up to and on his rut, slightly aggressive during it. Very jealous

Prefers Felix or Changbin during his ruts

Beta Jisung

Loud and boisterous

Brown hair, dark eyes

Impulsive and acts without thinking a lot

Has the messiest room

Gets aggressive leading up to his ruts and Only minho gets thru to him.

Prefers Minho during his ruts

Beta Felix

Sweet and kind

Blonde hair, blue eyes

VERY Sensitive to emotions

Trusts too easily

Usually helps Minho with cooking

Training to be pack medic with Doc Quinn

Prefers Minho or Seungmin during ruts (likes it rough)

Very emotional leading up to and during his ruts and exhausts himself worrying about everything.

Beta Seungmin

Laid back and even tempered. Takes awhile to get a rise out of him.

Light hair, dark eyes

Reads often and likes photography

Leading up to his rut, his tolerance is shorter and he gets lazier. 

Usually gets help from Minho or Felix with his rut

Alpha Jeongin

Newly presented aLpha

Was thought to be a beta originally

Dark eyes, dark hair with highlights

Eager to learn from Minho

Does well with just the boys - only an occasional loss of temper

Still training and practice with Omegas, pheromone control, and urges

Gets antsy and quick tempered leading up to and during ruts

Usually has Chan or hyunjin help him

They are all mates with each other so yeah LOL

I'm VERY OT8 for SKZ but I do have a bias....hopefully I don't make it obvious :)

Doctor Quinn

Pack medic

Also helps with a few other ally packs but priority is Greenridge

35 years old

Been tending to injured since she was 15

Rogue Beta

NYKO PACK

Alpha Lewis

Leader of the Nyko Pack

Has 2 little brothers in the pack: Hayes and Milo

Pack also contains 4 other betas and 3 omegas (including y/n)

Used y/n for his own needs and couldn’t care less about her 

Keeps her locked in the basement until he’s ready to use her.

Ruthless and feared by most the neighboring packs. No one dares to cross him

Took over 2 neighboring packs and expanded his territory, gaining their numbers as well

Alpha Hayes

Little brother of Lewis

Alpha in training

Older than Milo by 1 year

Beta Milo

Little brother of Hayes and Lewis

With Hayes always doing the alpha’s bidding

Other Betas:

Samuel

Triston

Frankie

Malcolm

Omegas:

Y/n

Asher

Harper

[wordsbyrian]

Royal Navy - Alessia Russo x Reader

Summary: Royal Navy!R was childhood friends with Less and things ended sort of poorly between them, they meet again. years later.

A/N: Alright so I don't know a lot about the Royal Navy but I do know a lot about the US Navy so everything in here is a combination of research and filling in the blanks with American military knowledge.

Sometimes, life doesn’t give you everything you want.

Correction, most of the time life doesn’t give you anything you want. This explains the conversation that you’re currently having while sitting in your girlfriend’s room.

“I just don’t know why you would want to volunteer to join the army,” she says, flopping back onto her bed.

“I’m joining the Navy, Less,” you tell her for what must be the one-thousandth time. “Besides, there's not anything for you to understand. I don’t understand why you're going to school in America but I’m not trying to stop you.”

“I’m going to play football and learn,” Alessia says, “Not signing up to get myself killed.”

“Yea, well, we all can’t be the next Kelly Smith, can we?”

“Don’t get smart with me Y/N, I don’t want to argue with you,” she says, finally sitting up to look at you.

“But you do, because if you didn’t we’d be making out not having this conversation the day before I leave for Dartmouth,” you respond, getting up from your seat at her desk, “I won’t be able to use my mobile so often I’ll  write you but don’t bother answering if you’re gonna keep at it like this.”

With that, you walk out of Alessia’s room and as a result her life.

You do hear her calling after you but you know she hasn’t changed her mind so you don’t bother turning around.

That was over 5 years ago and while you did keep your promise of writing and calling her; after your first three letters received no response, you gave up.

That doesn’t mean that you stopped cheering her on, you’ve seen all her major moments, no matter how far away you were.

Over the summer, you along with practically every other sailor on your ship watched as she along with the rest of the Lionesses conquered Europe.

And now, you’re standing on the touchline at Kingsmeadow in your dress uniform for some surprise your sister planned with Chelsea.

But if you had known they scheduled it for the weekend the Blues welcome United, you probably would’ve waited a little longer to take some leave time.

Anything would be better than having Alessia attempt to burn holes in you with only her eyes as you carry the ball out for the coin toss.

You can’t tell if she recognizes you with your hair cut so short and your body so stiff but when you hear the PA ask everyone to turn their attention to you, you know that she’ll figure it out soon if she hasn’t already.

“Everyone please join us in a round of applause,” the voice says over the speakers, “as we welcome back former Chelsea youth player, Lieutenant Commander in His Majesty’s Royal Navy, Y/N Y/L/N. Thank you for your service.”

You allow yourself to smile slightly as Emma Hayes hands you a Chelsea shirt with your name on it before a stadium hand comes to lead you to your seat.

The match is good and you enjoy it as much as you can with strangers coming up to you every two minutes.

When it ends, 2-1 Chelsea, you make your back pitchside having agreed to speak with the players in the small window of time Hayes and Skinner have managed to get them to give up.

When you're led to a back room you’re shocked to see both teams there intermingled but you quickly remember that women's football has always been much more cordial than the men’s game.

After another quick introduction from the assistant who led you there, you stand alone in front of the two teams.

“Hello,” you say, standing pretty stiffly with your hands clutching your cover behind your back. “I’m not going to introduce myself again but now seems like a good time to mention that since my dad is from Newburn, I’m a Newcastle fan.”

That gets a few scattered laughs that help to break some of the tension and ease your nerves.

“I’m supposed to be talking to you about leadership, team building, and morale but I watched the game and I can definitely say that neither team needs to hear from someone whose idea of team building is sticking people in the middle of the ocean for months at a time and seeing who can get passed their problems long enough to survive,” you say plainly, not bothering to hide your disinterest for the situation. “So I figured you can just ask me questions until they let us leave.”

Murmurs of agreement go through the group so you press on, alternating between teams to ensure you’re being fair.

Most of the questions are the normal ones you get when people find out you're in the Navy. So you explain what it means to be both a Lieutenant Commander and a Surface Warfare Officer.

There are a couple of shocked faces when you tell them that you’re trained to operate all the heavy artillery on the ships and a couple of faces that fill you with more than a bit of concern because of how glee-filled they are.

When you tell them that you joined the Navy because of family tradition you can see Alessia roll her eyes and whisper something to Toone but you divert your attention to Millie Bright, who you recognize from the time you spent training with the full team.

And based on her question it seems like she recognizes you too.

“You made some appearances with the full team, why’d you choose the Navy over football,” she asks.

Laughing a little you answer her, “I played 30 minutes in the Conti Cup and was in Hayes’ office the next day quitting. That was literally the worst half hour of my life and I almost drowned in the sinking ship exercise.”

It’s then that you notice Alessia put her hand up to ask a question and considering you want nothing more than to not have to interact with her, you ignore it getting through a few others before you notice Ella with her hand up as well.

So you make the mistake of calling on her.

“Are you ever going to let Less ask a question,” she says with an unbelievable amount of sass.

“I suppose I have to now,” you say, “Crack on, Russo.”

Alessia doesn’t take this well because she glares at you and asks in the coldest voice you’ve ever heard from her, “How’s your sister?”

Never one to be outdone when it comes to being petty you respond in kind.

“She’s fine. Your family?”

It's your words that seem to spark a realization in some of the players’ faces that the two of you know each other but before any of them have a chance to say anything the same assistant from earlier comes to tell you that you’ve completed your time agreement.

For your part, you can’t get out of the building fast enough, barely stopping by the manager's office to tell Emma bye.

Getting to your car, you rush home probably breaking a few minor traffic laws in your haste.

When you do get home, you rush past your sister, Sarah, and her husband straight to your room, where you make quick work of changing into comfy clothes so that you can hide away for the foreseeable future.

You manage to go a full two days before your sister gets sick of your bullshit and barges in opening the blinds to let light into your cave of despair.

“Alright, it’s time to get up,” she says, pulling the blankets from on top of your head.

“Fuck off,” you say, turning away from her.

“I won’t," she replies, "You’ve been locked away in here, not eating, for days. All because you had to see the girl who broke your heart at 17. Grow up.”

Rolling back over you glare at her harshly but she continues speaking before you get the chance to tell her to go away again.

“Don’t make that face at me, it won’t work,” Sarah says, plainly, “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to take a shower and then when you’re done, you’ll come eat lunch before going to walk Magpie.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument and if we’re being honest, you’ve always been appropriately cautious of pissing her off. She did practically raise you after all.

So you did what she asked.

You showered, you ate with her and her goofball husband, and now you're sitting at the park with her idiot dog that is named after a bird.

“Oi, Magpie,” you call out, getting the dog’s attention, “Stop trying to eat that rock you berk, it’s bigger than you are.”

Somewhere to your left, you hear a familiar burst of laughter that has you panicking more than a little bit.

You do your best to ignore it, hoping that she would choose any of the other benches to go sit on. But that doesn’t seem to be in the cards for you as Alessia takes a seat right next to you, her dad’s dog coming to rest at her feet.

“Hey,” you say to her, not wanting to be rude before you turn your attention to the dog, “Sup Rocco, getting up there in age, aren’t you old boy?”

Alessia laughs again and you feel your heart skip a beat and a fluttering feeling begins in your stomach.

The two of you sit in relative silence for a while, the only words spoken are from you, usually a shout at your sister’s idiot dog.

You get so used to the silence that you almost miss it when she starts speaking.

“I owe you an apology for the way I treated you at the game,” Alessia begins, “It wasn’t fair of me to treat you like that, especially in front of so many people. -So, I’m sorry I did that.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting her to say but it definitely wasn’t that, so it takes you a moment before you respond.

“I can’t accept your apology,” you tell her after you finish processing. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see her shocked reaction so you continue before she can spiral too far. “Mostly because I was definitely a bigger dick than you were that day. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have acted that way, not in front of your team.”

You can see a small smile tug at her lips and you grin at her in response.

“We were both pretty big idiots, huh,” she says.

“Proper bellends,” you respond, “You’d think we would’ve done some growing up I guess not.”

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you and you let it stay for a few moments before you speak again.

“I think if we had been better at communicating, we probably would’ve been back on speaking terms at least four years ago,” you tell her seriously albeit with a joking tone.

“Are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Back on speaking terms,” Alessia clarifies.

“Obviously,” you say, “I don’t watch Magpie try to eat all the inedible things in sight with just anybody.”

The smile that had been threatening to break out on Alessia’s face is out in full force now and you can feel the fluttery sensation in your gut get stronger.

With that seemingly settled, the two of you fall into a pattern of conversation that is both familiar yet different.

In the past, most of your conversations centered around school, football, and making weekend plans. Now, it’s more of a catch up session but the vibes are the same.

It's perfect.

You don’t know how long you sit there but you’re eventually interrupted by the sound of both of your phones going off.

Your’s a call from Sarah telling you to bring her dog back and her’s a reminder from her dad about family dinner.

You stand up ready to try and catch Magpie and go when Alessia stops you.

“Y/N,” she begins, “Do you know where you’ll be stationed once your vacation ends?”

“Headed back to Dartmouth for five months to train the next batch of SWOs,” you tell her, “Then probably gonna be on shore duty for a while so might end up in command of a URNU. Depends.”

“On what?”

“Lots of things but mostly where the open postings are,” you explain.

“Two more questions but one relies on your answer to the other.”

“Shoot.”

“Will you be able to make and receive phone calls while at Dartmouth this time around,” she asks with a slight blush.

“I’ll be in charge so I can do what I want.”

“So would you be opposed to giving me your number so I can call you?”

Unable to resist teasing her a little bit, you let a coy grin spread across your face.

“Alessia Russo, are you trying to get back in my pants,” you ask her.

You watch as the blush on her deepens and she begins to sputter trying to defend herself.

You laugh a little and continue, “I mean it’s fine if you are but I’d prefer to know so that I don’t fuck it up like I did last time.”

“Y/N/N,” she says, still blushing and stuttering.

“My number is the same,” you say, taking pity on her, “so you better call me.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I am but now I’m an asshole that you’ve got to call.”

“It’d take the entire Royal Navy to stop me.”

[thesummerpetrichor]

I can't stop thinking about reader being an overworked secretary, always so uptight, on the edge and Javi teases and mocks her about it all the time, is slightly mean, making the days insufferable for her until one day she breaks for him and Javi pounds all that stress out of her until she cries ♡

oh my god! you must be a mind reader, because I've got a very similar fic that's been sitting in my drafts for well over a year. We know Javi doesn't like much of what comes with being promoted to attache, but a brand new, pretty little thing for a secretary? That he can get behind.

Tw: some workplace harassment, dubcon, mean!Javi

Could you imagine, the cocky, demanding, and downright infuriating boss he would be? Doesn't care you don't work on the weekends, that you're off hours.. just runs you so fucking thin. With his calls and his instructions and his hundreds of coffee orders. And he just knows he's driving you wild, that you just can't stand his stupid fucking lack of work ethic. But he knows. He knows you just can't say no to him, knows about the stupid little crush you have on him, and boy does he like taking advantage of being privy to that information.

But he just can't help himself, its so fucking cute, how you become all flustered at the slightest reprimand, how you scramble to make sure everything is perfect for him, how committed you are to this shitty ass job. Truth be told, he feels kind of bad for putting you through the wringer sometimes– but its hard when you're calling him sir and doing everything you can to impress him.

Safe to say he's livid when he learns you've asked to be shifted to another department- and they sent you to the CIA no less. But now that you're Stechner's secretary he can kill two birds with one stone and show you why he's the better of the two evils.

thank you so much for this ask! It actually motivated me to open the WIP and get working on it again; keep your eye out for a full length fic sometime in the future– hopefully. 💗💗🙏🙏

[mana-jjk]

jjk manga spoilers !!

if you aren’t caught up to the most recent chapters, you will be spoiled and i refuse responsibility because i’m just vibing my life away

something i use to kind of sway back and forth between inuokko is when i thought they’d get together.

i think it’s mutually agreed that the dynamic between toge and yuuta in their first and second year does have a slightly different vibe. not in a bad way, just in a mutual transition in their dynamic and relationship. of course, that’s just what we can gleam from a handful of pages.

first-year inuokko is definitely more of an awkwardly sweet, teenagers in love for the first time, trying to figure out who they are and how they interact. there’s room and space to grow, a singular year that only acts as an introduction to what is to come.

second-year inuokko is more of an established confidence, knowing each other as friends, fighters, and everything in between. they’re no longer the youngest generation of the school, now they’re established not just between themselves, but also in their lower class men. more than that, they’re also exploring the effects of new trauma and how that impacts who they are.

i’ve seen this characterization of first-year and second-year dynamics being turned on their head. yuuta transitioning from shyness to confidence, toge from being the reliable figure to learning how to rely on yuuta. that’s why it’s so hard to pinpoint where they would get together, because both dynamics are really sweet and strong. i think that’s why inuokko has remained so strong over the years.

lately though, i have been thinking about that in particular. trying to understand these characters and where their dynamic takes off because it sets the tone for a lot of the major events that take place.

toge losing his arm, yuuta in shibuya, killing yuuji, the reunion, and most definitely the recent manga chapters.

as much as i like to think about them in terms of an established relationship, i truly think that inuokko wouldn’t be successfully established until during or after. in other words, i think their strongest coming together comes after their first year, after yuuta returns from being abroad.

yuuta as a character is one that desperately craves connection. that is a defining characteristic that drives his motives throughout jjk 0. he’s lonely, he wants to feel a sense of belonging if with even one person.

however, the issue is that he is transitioning from several life-changing events that allow no time for process or recovery.

in less than a year, he was responsible for multiple injuries and deaths in classmates and sorcerers investigating them. he was sentenced to death, had the sentence lifted, and was sent to a school for sorcerers. he was immediately targeted by getou, faced several life-threatening situations, and even if just for a moment, thought that the tentative friends he made were dying by getou’s hand. he then proceeds to try and sacrifice his life to murder the absolute crap out of getou and then loses the remnants of the only friend he had for years. this is not to mention the bullying, being ostracized by his family, and being uprooted to a completely different environment.

even if yuuta grew up in a completely different world than the others, his relationship with human interaction is extremely poor. during this time was the only opportunity he had to finally grieve rika’s death.

that’s why it’s so vital that he’s not immediately jumping into a new relationship. even though i don’t see the dynamic between yuuta and rika as inherently romantic as they got older, it was the closest thing either of them had. (i say this because rika often conveyed a mentality of a little girl as a spirit, they might have loved each other as kids, but their mentalities are too different now).

yuuta needed to take that time to enjoy companionship platonically in order to develop emotionally. even more so, he needed to learn how to cope and live in a healthy and productive way. with the loss of rika came the loss of any power he had, a newfound freedom and disadvantage he had to work himself through again.

going to africa was essential for that reason !! he needed to learn how to navigate himself without placing too much dependency on any one person. it kept him from self-sabotaging, but also granted him the opportunity to learn that there were people willing to wait for him.

so that time in africa with miguel wasn’t just time to hone his physical and cursed abilities, it was an opportunity to grow into a more stable mindset before taking any other steps forward.

with that being said, yuuta is absolutely insane. like, i’m sorry but if you don’t agree, talk to the wall because i’m not budging on this. mr. okkotsu did grow into a more confident and self-assured person, but it doesn’t completely erase the traumatic experiences that developed him into the person he is today.

rika was and very much still is an extension to the kind of love he understands and conveys. becoming a monster for those you love, gladly and willingly, to sink your teeth into the viscera of their soul and hold tight. because otherwise, they might just slip away.

we see the frantic energy that rika used to utilize in protecting him not gone, but transitioned into a more clever application in yuuta’s actions. i see this especially in his speech that i discussed about gojo a while back. in how angry he was about toge’s arm. in the way he took on the culling games by himself as atonement.

rika always was a reflection of the darkness inside of yuuta. one that allowed him to pretend like he was helpless, when in truth, he always held a strong capability for the violence.

rika vs. yuuta’s bullies

yuuta vs. getou

he consumes darkness in order to protect the perceived light in his life.

it’s less that he needed to be sent away to address that, and more that he needed time to accept that.

we see a confident yuuta, not because the darkness has disappeared, but because he has learned to control and weaponize it.

his desperation for connection is still very prominent in his character, you can see it especially in how he lashes out in regards to gojo. it’s not that he’s especially angry with everyone else, and more that he needs them to feel these connections on the same level.

there’s visual relief in how he expresses himself when toge, maki, and panda audibly extend their support. he needs to have that tangible desperation and need returned in full. if loving means becoming, the boy who consumes curses will do beyond what is necessary.

in that, you can see an almost contradiction to the similarities between yuuta and yuuji. two boys cursed with immense love for their friends.

yuuji who consumed a finger to protect those around him, who set out on this life to save others and guide them to a proper death. who lost his friends, his mentors, everything and everyone who mattered most. who now straddles the line of life and death all in sacrifice.

yuuta who cursed his childhood friend, who consumes curses to absorb their abilities. who set out on this life to avoid the pain of loneliness and find connection in his lonely world. who somehow managed to not lose any of his friends. who chose to take the only casualty he suffered, his mentor, to sacrifice himself to bring him peace.

they’re so similar and yet so inherently different because of one key characteristic. where yuuji’s actions are selfless, yuuta’s motives have always been selfish.

he brings yuuji back to life, not because he cares too much about killing him, but because gojo and his classmates care about him.

he takes on the culling games because he feels guilty about not helping his friends before.

he kills his mentor’s best friend body snatcher, not because it’s right, but because he doesn’t want gojo to do it.

selfless actions, selfish reasons.

and yuuta knows it.

he accepts it, he embraces it, he doesn’t even try to hide it.

as a first year, he might have shied away from acknowledging it. flustered and avoided eye contact, tried to explain himself in a way that conveyed something good and positive. tried to not see himself a monster.

but he is a monster.

only monsters could possibly survive the blood-soaked remnants of his childhood and teenage years.

he’s a monster, and it only took a year of training for he himself to realize that, to embrace it.

because being a monster means that the people you love don’t have to be one.

and the cherry on top is that he picked the one group that would know that, would see him, would love him not just in spite of it, but because of it.

maki figured him out from day one, and panda doesn’t exactly have the importance of morals high enough to care.

toge is the biggest surprise, because his characterization might lead you to think that he would be heartbroken by the choices yuuta would make.

but it isn’t compassion that defines toge so strongly, it is acceptance.

his ability to not see past the viscera and gore covering his soul. his ability to watch with utmost vigilance and choose to move forward regardless. he wipes the blood streaking his cheeks, not to pretend it never happened, but to share in it. to share the responsibility.

to be a jujutsu sorcerer is to not hold life in the highest regard. instead, it is to learn how to live past the bounds of morality and personal responsibility. it is to understand that you walk a gray line that forever tips into an unending darkness.

second year yuuta is one all too aware of this, who knows it far more intimately than any person raised in this society. and in spite of it, he choose to dig his nails into the edge and tip back. trusting, knowing his friends are only a breath away.

he needed the time to understand that more than anything else.

lmfao i consider myself the biggest toge lover, but i also love yuuta very much. he’s so batshit and it’s so enjoyable to me. i think they should hold hands and stuff ! 1,700 words of me just rambling about them - now it’s mana pls stfu hours

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Repairing Our Busted-Ass World

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1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

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Sexual Harassment: How to Identify and Fight It in the Workplace

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Queer Finance 101: Ten Ways That Sexual and Gender Identity Affect Finances

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The Financial Advantages of Being White

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The New Jim Crow, by Michelle Alexander: A Bitchtastic Book Review

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[crazylittlejester]

DAILY BRAINROT

I greatly appreciate our brainrot time because otherwise I think I would go bonkers and I don't think my IRL friends can handle this level of brainrot. If any of them find my Ao3 or Tumblr by some miracle, I would perish on the spot. They don't need to know.

Anyway, I am obsessed with Legend's little brother vibes. He's like the older middle child. Can be responsible when he needs/wants to, but otherwise prefers being a thorn in the oldest's side. He's a stupid little goofball and I love that for him. I need him to team up with Time for a dumb prank because who would expect The Hero of Legend and The Hero of Time to do something like that??

Slightly related to that, I love it when he's a twin in modern AUs. LOVE IT. But what I want is for him to be Warriors' twin and Hyrule to be Wind's twin (or something close to that). I think it would be a good combination, especially if it's something like a mixed family dynamic where Legend and Warriors end up being brothers with Hyrule and Wind for some random reason so it goes from your regular older brother and younger brother dynamic to the younger brother suddenly dealing with his own younger brothers pestering him. Less accidental baby acquisition, more accidental younger brother acquisition.

(I will end up writing this because I'm crazy, we all know it, there's no point in denying it at this point.)

I also keep thinking about the War of Eras stuff and like... it's always a time paradox. It's always a time paradox. I can't get the idea of the guys teaching each other things, it's too sweet. Like, don't you have to wonder if Warriors teaches Wind how to do first aid because Tune taught him first? It's probably more likely he learned from someone else, but it's a thought. I'm slowly dying on the inside thinking about how much Tune would do for the captain because he wants to return the favor and ldjkgdfgjdirjgdlgrijgdlirjfdrijtelkjfd--

I genuinely appreciate the daily brainrots so much too 😭 like i come home at the end of a long day and i get excited to see it come in my inbox aslkgkjhg. i got a few people irl who know im bat shit on tumblr and on ao3, my fuckin fiancee literally follows this blog and i know they don’t check it often but i do live in the fear of the day i get a text or call about some super specific odd ass shit post i made🧍‍♂️and then one of my best friends reads Fierce Hero 9, which is honestly fucking hilarious to me because she knew NOTHING about LU when she started reading it (i only recently convinced her to join the dark side /j), she just heavily fucks with big hero 6, and yknow what i respect that. but if my COLLEGE friends ever found this blog?? killing myself immediately. killing myself, deleting the blog, and moving to the other side of the planet actually. and my family knows I write fanfiction but if they ever read or found it?? theres not a group of people on this earth who would be able to find me, my ass would be GONE.

I LOVE LEGEND AND HIS STUPID LITTLE BROTHER ENERGY IT’S SO EVERYTHING TO ME. he’s a little shit and we need to all talk about that more 😔 LEGEND AND TIME WORKING TOGETHER ON A PRANK?? OH MY GOD. IT’D BE FUCKING OVER FOR EVERYONE ELSE. THEY’D GET AWAY WITH IT AND POOR HYRULE, WILD, OR WIND WOULD END UP GETTING BLAMED 😭

oh my god i never not once even thought of Legend and Wars being twins. I guess part of it is cos i headcanon they got like a literal decade between em, and i never thought about making them that close in age, let alone the SAME age. Even in my modern au’s, Wars is 2-3 years older. Them as twins would be SO fucking funny though oh my GOD. ACCIDENTAL BROTHER ACQUISITION, IM GONNA BE FUCKIN USING THAT OH MY GOD AKNSKJSNKJSN

(write it and my life is yours /ref)

oh my god i love war of eras trio time paradoxes so fucking much. SOOOO fucking much. Just the idea of Wars teaching Wind some little thing and then Tune having that knowledge to help Captain Link?? EATING IT UP. Or Wind being the world’s biggest shit to Time and him absolutely RUTHLESSLY clapping back, just for Tune to pull the EXACT same soul destroying comeback seemingly out of his ass to hit Mask with when Mask decides to be a snarky little shit. Who started it? We’ll never know

[alymccart]

Ask du jour because I’m in a lot of feelings right now and need a diversion from them and because I stayed home for a mental health day and have time to ask: Back to First Time, I feel like there’s a whole analysis or chapter behind Charlie’s words to Vaggie about their connection.

“It's been a long time. And I... uhh, I've never had this kind of connection with anyone before. This is... more intense than I was expecting.”

I’d love to get into this more because here’s Charlie, who is this being that shouldn’t even exist- or it’s unimaginable that she exists- and is astronomically powerful and probably as wise as time and space due to her connection with the cosmos (even though the show never talks about that but it has to be true? Maybe? I’m overthinking? I mean, I can’t imagine one could live as long as Charlie has and not have some wisdom). And Vaggie’s just a dead woman, right? Just a dead human woman (who I fucking love so much, this isn’t a criticism). So for Charlie to feel a connection with someone so much “less” than herself and for it to shake her enough during intimacy, Vaggie must be powerful herself. Maybe not in the same way as Charlie, but damn. She must have some kind of soulmate-level power over Charlie. Like they’re written in the stars and, in this one instance, Charlie is meant to be completely powerless.

Makes me wonder, as I am wont to do, how Vaggie’s story will evolve both in your fic and in canon.

Anyway, I think that’s enough word vomit for today. But also thank you? You don’t know it but writing these thoughts helped quiet a small feelings storm in my head.

TT^TT Another fantastic ask.

I really REALLY do feel like there's more to Vaggie than the show has shown us so far, which is why I'm attempting to kinda-sorta foreshadow that in my fics. I have no actual idea what exactly that "more" is, and I may end up being way off base, but I want to believe. Although the alt version of their first time that's going to be in Hellfire goes a slightly different direction, the same general scenario still plays out.

I definitely agree with your assessment about Charlie's power. She's the daughter of the first demon in hell and a very powerful angel (in my fic I'm going to with Lucifer being a seraph, though that isn't confirmed as far as I know), so there has GOT to be more to her than what we have seen. I'm going to bet there's some angel qualities that'll crop up as the story progresses (maybe she'll get wings!?). I also feel like Charlie is treated like a child in the show way, way too much. Until it's confirmed in the show, we don't really know for sure that she's over 200 years old, but going on that assumption, there is absolutely no way she's as naive as people seem to think she is. Sheltered? Maybe a bit, but she's a busybody, so there's no way she spent all of her life cooped up in a palace or something. So, my fic/headcanon Charlie has been around. She wants to help, she wants to be involved, she wants to experience things; she wants to make Hell a better place and to do that she needs to learn everything she can about it. Considering the fact that she's a one-of-a-kind royal hellborn demon and more-or-less impervious to permanent/killing damage from just about anything around her (save for strong angels like Adam and angelic steel weapons, and Carmilla is not stupid enough to sell them to someone who wanted to hurt Charlie because Lucifer would shred her to pieces) there's not much reason for her to be overly cautious.

"Soulmate-level power" is one way to put it. I really feel like Charlie and Vaggie's connection was at least catalyzed in their mutual desire to see this whole "redemption" thing through. For Charlie, it's to help her people. For Vaggie, it's partly to prove that she herself is worthy of redemption and partly to help end the cycle of death altogether. Murdering all of those Sinner souls and only questioning it after thousands had died, then thinking she had done the Right Thing and immediately being mutilated and abandoned by people she trusted as a result really effed her up, imo, and she's obsessive about making up for it. I think after that initial spark, Charlie sees someone she can truly believe is her equal, if not in power, but spiritually, so she is willing to let her guard down. She's comfortable showing that side of herself to Vaggie, and Vaggie is comfortable with that side of Charlie, so, in the context of First Time, it ends up being harder for her to hold back (and maybe a bit of unconscious "I don't want to hold back" that she has to fight for fear of hurting someone she believes is a squishy Sinner demon).

I'll see how things play out as the fic progresses. I've got a general direction set, but things like to crop up and throw me off course as I write (which I love, tbh). Thank you for the thoughts! Getting to really mull this stuff over out loud is really helpful. :>