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javierpena-inatacvest · 3 months ago

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Stress Relief

Summary: After a recent promotion, Javi has had a lot on his plate. Thankfully, you know just what to do to help him de-stress.

Word Count: 2.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, post season 3)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (make safe choices pls), oral (m receiving), creampie, size kink (ish?), praise kink, sex as stress relief, Subby, whimpering Javi because giving him a surprise blowjob when you know he's stressed would make him crumble, this is literally porn without a plot WHOOPS

A/N: Shoutout to my job for having a system wide data outage today so I didn't have to work and got to write this instead 🤪 Poor bby cow eyes deserves all the stress relief in the world, and who am I to deny him 🤷🏼‍♀️ Also proud of myself because this is the first thing I've written without an obscene breeding kink in God knows how long, gold stars for me LMAO

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

“You’re still working?”

“No, I just really like sitting here and going through all this fucking paperwork for fun.” Javi sighed, sarcasm oozing out of his words as he leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

As thankful as Javi was for his much more structured, low risk job at the Laredo Sheriff's Department compared to his time back in Colombia, his recent promotion had put way more on his plate than he had expected.

Begrudgingly, Javi had been bringing work home with him most nights to make up for what he couldn’t finish in the office, leaving him in an exceptionally sour mood that he was spending his nights finishing paperwork instead of spending time with you.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be an asshole, Querida.” Javi huffed, upset with himself that any ounce of him was resorting to taking his frustrations out on you. “I just- I’ve just been really stressed about trying to get all this shit done.”

“Really? I can’t tell. You don’t seem stressed at all.” You quietly teased, your sarcasm enough to at least crack a small smile out of his pouted frown.

Pushing the office door open, you softly padded into the room, placing yourself behind Javi’s desk chair and draping your arms around his shoulders, gently resting your chin on his shoulder. His hands reached up to wrap around your arms now resting against his chest, his thumbs rubbing soft circles onto your skin as he let out a heavy sigh, your presence flooding him with at least a little bit of calm amongst the chaos.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” You asked, pecking a soft kiss onto the scratchy stubble of his cheek.

“No, it’s just some paperwork shit.”

“You sure?”

“No, thank you though, Hermosa. I promise I’ll be done soon, baby.”

Javi assumed his reply and gentle pat to your arm still wrapped around him would have enough to send you back out of his office so he could finish the rest of his work, but as your lips began to slowly travel from his cheek to down his neck and back up to nibble at his ear while your hands slid down his chest, he slowly realized that your offer to help had nothing to do with the actual work he needed to finish.

“You sure there’s nothing? It sure seems like you could use some stress relief, Javi.” The tone of your voice shifting from sweet and innocent to low and sultry, the whisper of your words dancing in Javi’s ear and fingertips raking lower across his stomach and thighs making his breath hitch in the back of his throat as he realized what kind of “help” you were planning to offer him.

You smirked as you watched the bulge in his slacks begin to stiffen, your hand just grazing along the seam of his crotch while you kissed his neck, sucking at his pulse point and nipping at his skin. You could practically feel Javi melting into his chair at your touch, hoping that your plan would provide your husband with some much needed stress relief.

“Pobrecito (Poor thing). You’re so tense. And so hard,” You laughed quietly to yourself, hand now cupping the full blown erection in his pants, “You gonna let me help you, baby? Help you get rid of some of this stress?”

You began to swivel his desk chair to face you, Javi’s lips already parted for his heavy breaths as his hungry gaze met yours. Slowly, you climbed into his lap, your legs straddling over his hips as your hands ran up and down his chest, toying with the buttons of his dress shirt to expose his soft and tanned skin.

Your mouths met in a hungry clash of tongues and teeth, capturing Javi’s muffled moans as you kissed him with an electric intensity that already had him needily bucking his hips up into you, desperate to ease how painfully hard he was from the few short moments since your proposition.

Javi could barely find it in his mind to string together a coherent sentence, frantically nodding his head in agreement to your question between sloppy kisses, letting his hands roam down your back until they were grabbing your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp.

“Use your words, Javi. You want me to take care of you?” You cooed, grinding your hips into his lap as you watched his head tip back against the chair, jaw going slack and mind running blank as you rubbed against the straining fabric of his pants.

“Fuck. P-Please, baby.” He moaned, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gulped, trying to use any ounce of composure he could to somehow make words travel from his brain to his mouth.

“Good boy.” You smirked, placing one last kiss on his lips before climbing off his lap to settle yourself between his legs on the floor, letting your fingers toy with the clasp of his belt buckle until it broke free.

“Fuck me.” Javi whispered to himself under his breath, watching you free his belt to carefully unzip his slacks, lifting his hips just enough to help you pull down his boxers to reveal his aching cock, tip already red and precum weeping from his slit.

“Maybe if you behave and let me take care of you, then yes.” You teased before letting your kisses trail up his thighs, inching closer and closer to his length, only making him groan more. His hand ran through the dark locks of his thick brown hair, trying to center himself enough to keep from busting right then and there.

Your hands ran up and down his thighs as you scooted closer to him, kisses trailing behind the gentle graze of your fingertips up towards his length. You couldn’t help but smirk at him with a devilish grin, seeing how needy and worked up he already was without you even touching him yet.

Letting your lips inch closer and closer to the base of his cock, your hand wrapped carefully around him, your thumb swiping over his tip and collecting the precum that had been leaking from it, sending a shiver down his spine and a low groan in his chest.

Slowly, your kisses made their way up his length, your lips replacing your hand, tenderly licking at sucking at his tip, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest. “Relax, Javi. Let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed, letting his cock tap against your tongue before licking a long strip from base to tip, the sensation making him shutter.

“O-kay. Fuck- Yeah, okay, baby.” He managed to stammer out, looking down at you perched between his legs, beginning to sink your mouth down on his length, hollowing out your cheeks until you could feel him hitting the back of your throat, coming back off him with a pop and a satisfied smile, batting your lashes at him.

Javi’s head hit the back of his chair as you began to repeat the motion, slowly taking the full length of his cock in and out of your mouth, letting his tip graze the back of your throat with each movement.

Letting your tongue drag up his shaft, your lips wrapped around his tip, sucking and flicking at his most sensitive spots. One hand was wrapped around his cock and working in tandem with your mouth, while the other grasped at his bare thigh, fingertips digging into his skin.

You began to pick up your pace, shifting your hand to cup his balls so you could take him back into your throat, sinking down just enough to let the deep, musky scent of the curls at the base of his shaft tickle your nostrils.

You couldn’t help but let a small smirk form between your lips as you worked at his cock, seeing and hearing just how wrecked Javi was from the short time that you had gone down on him, quiet whimpers and moans escaping from his lips, followed by muffled whispers of mixed expletives in Spanish and English to himself in any attempt to keep from spilling down your throat just as soon as you had started.

“Jesus fucking Christ… F-fuck me. You feel- mierda- you feel so good, Hermosa.” Javi managed to stammer out between gasps, looking down at you nestled between his legs with a desperate expression painted across his face, already feeling his balls beginning to tense and stomach start to swirl.

While you knew it wouldn’t take much more to get Javi to your intended point of stress relief, you selfishly couldn’t deny the fact that you were now also in need of your own relief, feeling the arousal that had been pooling in your underwear, coating the inside of your thighs and forcing you to squeeze them together in attempts to ease your growing ache.

Pulling off Javi’s cock and planting a soft kiss to his tip, you peered up at him with a devilish grin, phrasing your next proposition as a question, even though you undoubtedly already knew what his answer would be.

“You wanna cum down my throat, or cum inside me? You choose, handsome.” You cooed, fingertips grazing the inside of his thighs as your kisses trailed behind, teasing Javi to the point you were half convinced he might cum just like this, considering his half coherent babbles as he tried to string together words to form any sort of thought.

“I-inside. Fuck- Let me cum inside you, please.” He stammered, nodding his head frantically in confirmation of what you already knew would be his answer.

Gripping your hands around his thighs to push yourself up to stand, you reached down to tug the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, quickly followed by your bra, both now crumpled in a pile on the floor.

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at how Javi was gawking at you and your now bare chest, eyes bulging out of his skull and jaw hitting the floor as if he was a goddamn cartoon and it was the first time he had seen you topless in his entire life.

Your bottom half slowly followed the same fate as your top, pants and underwear shuffling down your hips and legs until they were pooled around your ankles, leaving you completely naked as you began to crawl back into Javi’s lap.

You let your legs straddle over his hips, your cunt ghosting over his cock as you placed your hands on his stomach, letting them slide up his chest until they were buried in the thick locks of his dark hair, gripping and tugging his curls while your mouth engulfed his in an electric kiss.

A soft moan rumbled in your chest as his firm grasp found a home on your hips, his fingers digging into the meat of your stomach, holding on for dear life while he felt you hovering over his length.

“Please, Hermosa. I need to feel you, baby.” He whispered into your ear, now all but begging for you to sink down onto his cock and let himself get lost in the mesmerizing warmth and wetness of you.

Reaching below you, you wrapped your hand around his cock, positioning it beneath you to lower yourself down, whimpering at the sweet stretch and sting of his girth, letting his tip kiss your cervix as he filled you with every inch of himself that you could take. For as many times as you had found yourself in this position, you were convinced that you would never get over just how full you felt with Javi inside you, and how breathtakingly incredible it felt.

Cupping Javi’s strong jaw in your hands, your forehead rested against his as you let your hips start to grind into his, long and languid circles of your lower half, rolling back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt.

“Fuck me. Holy fuck.” Javi groaned, his hands snaking up your front to grab your breasts, kneading the soft flesh greedily in his hands. His fingers reached for your pebbled nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger, the new sensation sending a jolt of pleasure to your core.

That, combined with the hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbing deliciously on your clit and the way Javi’s cock punched against your g-spot was already making you see stars, vision going white and brain going blank from just how good he felt buried inside you.

Instinctively, you rocked your hips faster, feeling an all too familiar tingle begin to build at the base of your spine. Almost as if Javi could sense the way your cunt was starting to clench around his length, he couldn’t help but buck his hips up into yours, his thrusts filling you in a way that had you absolutely reeling and breathless, the two of you both teetering on the brink of collapse to chase your own highs.

“You feel, oh shit- you feel so good, Javi. Feel so good inside me. I’m close, baby.” You whimpered, burying your hands in the sweat curled hairs at the nape of his neck, lost in your own pleasure as your stomach swirled faster and faster with arousal.

You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you and nearly incomprehensible babbles were all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone.

“Yeah? F-fuck, I love being inside you. So fucking wet and tight, holy fuck.”

You could feel your walls beginning to tighten around him, moaning as you buried your head in the crook of his shoulder, fingernails digging crescent moons into his skin as you braced yourself for the wave that was about to crash through you.

“Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop.”

“I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, Osita. Wanna feel you soak my lap before I fuck you full of me. Gonna cum so deep inside this tight little pussy.” Javi reached down so the pads of his fingers rubbed along your clit as you rolled your hips, sinking yourself deeper onto his cock with each thrust, your vision going white as you could feel yourself come undone.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckkkkkkkk!” You cried out as you felt your orgasm pulse through you, pleasure shooting through your body as you came, clamping down around Javi’s cock and gushing with your arousal, your body melting limp into his as he followed suite.

“That’s it, baby. I’m gonna- fuck- g-gonna cum too. Fuck me, gonna fill you so full of me you’re- oh shit- gonna be dripping out of me f-for da- Oh fuckkkkkk-” With a final stutter of his hips, Javi thrust up into you, letting the warm rush of his spend coat your walls, milking himself of every last drop before carefully pulling out, letting the rhythmic breathing of your chests rising and falling sync together.

“Holy fuck.” Javi sighed, kissing your bare shoulder before letting his plush lips peck across your neck and jawline before meeting yours. “I think it worked.”

“Think what worked?” You asked, still trying to come to in your blissed out state, gently combing your fingers through the sweat ridden curls of Javi’s hair, giggling as he knowingly ghosted his fingers across your stomach, smiling to himself at your ticklish laughter.

“The stress relief. God, I love you. I’ll never know what the fuck I ever did to deserve you, but I won’t question it. Thank you, baby.” Javi grinned, softly swiping his thumb across your cheek, leaving his other arm to wrap around your waist and pull him closer to his chest.

“I love you, too, Jav. Glad I could help. Hopefully this was enough motivation to get you through the rest of your work.”

As you started to scoot yourself off Javi’s lap to clean up the mess of arousal, clothes, and a few scattered papers you had left in your wake, you were taken aback to feel his grip tighten around you, holding you in place.

“It’s gonna be a long night, because I’m not even close to being done.” Javi smirked, his tongue darting between his lips as his eyes darkened with a hungry gaze.

“Then you need to let me get off you, you goofball. Last time I checked, your naked wife sitting on your lap isn’t helping anyone to get paperwork done.” You teased, playfully crossing your arms over your chest, tilting your head at Javi in a mix of sass and confusion until a shriek of surprise escaped from your chest as Javi stood up to set you on top of his desk, caging his broad body over yours.

“Oh I’m done with all of this shit,” He paused, gesturing to his desk before letting his kisses lazily trail down your body until he was on his knees with your legs draped over his shoulders, spreading them open to reveal the swollen and glistening mess still between your thighs, “but there’s not a chance in hell I’m done with you.”

Taglist:

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@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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angie-words · 3 months ago

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So, regarding the latest Tortoise Media podcast episode about the allegations about Neil Gaiman, I was considering doing another write up. The podcast contains audio recorded from a phone call between Claire and Gaiman.

However, I do not have the mental capacity for that right now. Also, the episode focuses upon Claire's story as first discussed on the Am I Broken podcast, which I've already written up.

Thankfully, Paul Caruana Galizia (the journalist involved with the podcast) wrote a thread containing most of the main additional details.

CW: gaslighting, victim blaming, mentions of SA, using autism as an excuse for abusive behaviour

I'm adding screenshots here too. One thing addressed in the podcast is Gaiman trying to explain away his behaviour as due to being autistic.

I'm autistic and was actually quite pleased with how they handled this element - that they swiftly dismissed it being used as an excuse. They emphasised how autistic people are statistically far more likely to be the victims of assault and abuse than perpetrators in any sense. The hosts also highlighted how, due to the barriers autistic people face with social interactions, we are often much more cautious about initiating anything, treading carefully in new situations because of previous bad experiences.

Not, for example, trying to snog a person you've just met.

There's also a mention near the beginning of Claire's story about how she first met Amanda Palmer. Claire mentioned she was seeing Gaiman soon at a signing and did Palmer want her to pass a message on. According to Claire, Palmer put her arms around Claire's neck and whispered something about nibbling on his ear.

Boundaries seem to be things that Palmer and Gaiman are aware of, yet keep stepping over...

Anyway, screenshots of the twitter thread beneath the cut:

#neil gaiman allegations #neil gaiman #tortoise media #actually autistic #autism #neilgaiman

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red5tars · 6 days ago

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minors + ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked.

“could i... perhaps.... indulge you on bear hybrid price... and breeding kink. but not like, just stuffing you full, i'm talking round of his seed just overflowing... 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️” - ask from anon

oh boy..

bunny!reader who stumbles across a beautiful patch in the forest. it’s a nice set up, lush greenery, some flowers to nibble and admire, and a stream that provides plenty of water.

and most importantly, the land is empty. no predators, or prey. just your cute little cottontail and no one else.

it quickly becomes your home, spending your days laying down in the shrubbery, skipping by the stream, and eating your fill in plants. a perfect routine you plan on sticking to until you die.

at least, that’s what you thought it would be like, until you found out why this patch was so empty.

it happens on a rainy day, and while the feeling of water running down your fur and skin is enjoyable, the downpour is harsh today. in need of shelter, you quickly seek out the nearest cave, finding one hidden in plain sight. it’s covered by vines and moss, blending into the greenery. thankfully, you’re able to pick out such things, it’s how you found this place after all.

stepping inside, you realize how dark and cold it is, a shiver making your ears stand up. at the very least, you wouldn’t have to be here for more than a few hours. what’s the worse that could happen?

it seems the answer chuffs behind you, a growl making your body stiffen.

as you turn your head over your shoulder, your met with the grizzly sight of a large bear hybrid. your ears drop, fear running through you as the beast stares you down.

“anyone ever told you about trespassing, bun?” he asks, his deep voice rattling your bones.

somehow, you manage to shake your head, stammering, “i-i didn’t know this was.. i thought.. i-“

“thought wha’, hm?” he asks, his tone bordering on condescending, “thought this little patch was yours for the taking,” there’s a hint of smile in his tone, and you see it as he emerges from the shadows.

with every step he takes forward, you take one back, hoping to reach the entrance of the cave.

“n-no,” it comes out naturally, a defensive response. the bear just chuckles, shaking his head.

“oh bunny.. poor stupid bunny,” the dim light from outside glints against his fangs, canines that are waiting to be sunk into your flesh.

“everything in this little section of the forest is mine, from the trees,“ he gestured above your head, but you don’t dare turn around. it would be unwise to give him an opening.

“the grass, and even the little stream like you to hop in,” a chill runs down your spine. it never occurred to you he was watching, eying his next meal.

with one more step, you find yourself close to the entrance. but it seems he redirected your path, feeling the hard wall of the cave hit you instead of the rain’s humidity.

his whole body cages you, keeping trapped.

“and now.. you do too.”

——

you knew he was going to devour you, just not like this.

the bear, price, has you pinned down with an arm on your lower back, stomach glued to the cold floor as his tongue glides up and down your slick cunt.

even with his weight on you, your instincts scream at you to move. to run away and never look back.

“quit yer squirming, bun,” price commands, growls. the low timbre of his voice adds vibrations to your pussy, causing you to do the opposite of what he said. a quiet squeal leaves your lips, ears stretched far back behind you in embarrassment.

even though you defied a direct order, he doesn’t punish you. instead, he goes back to eating it, eating you, your sopping wet cunt.

you can’t even recall how you got into this position, all you remember is the bear claiming you as his, telling you his name, and then wrestling you down into the floor.

..so maybe you can recall how you got here.

after another agony of his long licks, price pulls away from your cunt. it’s completely drenched in his spit, and you bet it smells more like his mouth than you.

“think you’re ready now,” he grunts, and despite the haze his tongue has placed you in, alarm bells ring in your head again. swiftly, you manage to turn, eyes wide, “r-ready for wha-“

your question is cut off as something big is shoved inside of you, your meek voice shifting into something closer to a scream.

just like everything about him, it’s big. it feels like he’s burrowing himself inside you, which is ironic considering his species. it’s just all too much far too quickly.

“p-price pull out pl-please,” you beg, and not even the earlier pleasure can outdo the pain. but he doesn’t pull out. in fact, it seems your pleading spurs him on, trying to shove even more (was there more?!) of himself inside of you.

“can’t do that bun,” he huffs, squishing your cottontail as he practically rests his full weight on you, “gotta claim you.”

and with that, he moves.

it’s brutal, the way he slams home into your tight pussy. it’s almost like being stabbed, except the blade is thicker and more meaty and not a blade at all but probably the fattest cock you’ve ever felt-

it seems price can pick up on your pain, tasting it on his tongue (amongst other things). with one hand, he manages to cant your hips, snaking a paw in between them.

“being too mean, aren’t i?” he says almost effortlessly, not a hint of strain in his voice despite the robust movement of his hips, “soft thing like you isn’t used to this type of breeding..”

as a sign of mercy, his fingers play with your clit, pinching and rubbing the bud.

and oh, does that help.

instead of focusing on the harsh piston of his hips, he offers pleasure, toying with your little button, rolling it between his fingers, putting enough pressure to have you squeaking.

it pulls sounds out of you that you never knew you could make and sentences that consist of pleasepleaseplease and moremoremore.

it seems price revels in your enjoyment too, grunting harder as your insides clench on his length with a vice-like grip.

“yeah? you like that, bun? you always turn into a slut when someone flicks that little button of yours? hm?”

despite his patronizing tone, you’re unable to deny his claims. instead, you meet his questions with moans, turning into what he describes as a cock-focused cottontail slut.

before long, the warmth in your stomach erupts like a dormant volcano, making you clench his cock in a vice-like grip. your orgasm shakes you, body rigid as you come undone under this predator.

it seems he wasn’t far along either, as price buries his face into the back of your neck, pressing himself to the hilt as a massive load of his cum spills inside you.

it’s hot and thick, making sure not to just coat your insides but also fill it. you half expect him to pull out, but price just stays sheathed inside you.

it isn’t until you feel your womb is going to burst that you finally speak up, “um.. i.. i think you should.. p-pull out..” you whimper, having to actively search for words instead of fall deeper into this haze of lust.

but it’s rare for predators to spare mercy, even rarer for them to do it twice.

“no can do bun, see” and he completely drops his weight onto you, a quiet oof exhaling from you at this, “i was pretty lonely before you showed up, and it’s been near ages since i had a mate..”

as he explains himself, you can feel his cock coming back to life, practically keep all his cum plugged deep inside of you.

“and when you wandered into my territory, i knew i had to have you,” his hips move shallowly, barely separating from you. “had to make you mine,” at this, a moan leaves your lips while a deep chuckle escapes his.

“attagirl. now,” he curls an arm under your waist, palming at your soft belly, “jus’ lie there while i make you fat with my cubs, okay bunny?”

#capt price #john price x reader #hybrid!price #bearhybrid!price #hybrid!reader #bunny!reader #cw breeding #cw dubcon #idk if it counts as that but just to be safe

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messedupfan · 5 months ago

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Chapter 19

Summary: Y/n finds some interesting information about Rachel while cleaning her room.

A/n: I wasn't sure about this chapter but considering tonight is the presidential debate, nothing can be worse than that. I hope this is better than that. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

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

Wanda sets the last box on top of another and puts her hands on her hips as she looks at the shed. It was a mess when she first opened it yesterday. She couldn't believe how much crap had collected inside over the years. She threw out most of the useless items and whatever gardening and landscaping tools she had, she moved to the garage. Though she doubted she'd need them again since the tools were only used once by Vision before he hired a team of people to take care of the yards.

The shed is once again a disorganized mess of boxes but she knows that you won't let them collect dust. “I should probably patch up some holes in here before I leave, I don't know what the weather is going to be like before I can get in here and really set up and I don't want anything to get ruined.” You say as you analyze the space.

Wanda nods, “Yeah, do whatever you have to. It's your space now.”

“Almost like we're moving in together,” you joke, which makes both of you laugh awkwardly. “Sorry I don't know where that,” you start but Wanda doesn't let you finish as she waves you off.

“It's okay,” she says with a kind smile. The two of you get quiet and stand in front of each other awkwardly. Not sure what to say or do. She wants to ask you so many questions. She wants to hold you and tell you that she loves you. She wants to throw caution into the wind and ask you to move in. But she knows that she can't. She's not ready. She takes a slow breath and opens her mouth to ask if you're feeling better but thankfully, her phone starts ringing. “I have to take this,” she says as she puts the phone to her ear. “Hey, yeah, let me get somewhere private.” She mouths an apology to you just before turning to the back door of her house. She rushes up the steps of the deck and then to her office. She feels you trailing her up until she gets to the stairs inside of the house.

“Since when do you need to find privacy to talk to me?” Agatha says on the other end of the call.

Wanda hurries into her home office but isn't careful enough to ensure that the door is shut all the way. She stands in the middle of her office with her back to the door. “Since I realized that I'm in love with Y/n and I needed to get the words out before I self implode,” she rushes out as if she was holding a deep breath.

“Woah, woah,” Agatha says with a hint of humor in her tone. “I’m going to need you to slow down and annunciate for me, honey. What's happening?”

Wanda swallows and inhales through her nose. “I'm sorry, I'm kind of losing it lately. Ever since I started seeing Dr. Winslow I feel like I can't keep a secret anymore because it doesn't feel good. But now is not the time for me to go proclaiming my love to Y/n.” Wanda starts to nibble on her thumb nail.

“Why not? I'm sure they'd love to hear how you feel about them,” Agatha asks.

“Because they have a lot going on. And I still have a lot of things to work through.” She doesn't want to go into the details with Agatha so she keeps it vague. “But I can finally admit it to myself and well, you, about how I feel.”

“Yeah, why are you telling me this now? I’ve been losing bets over this and now you feel this way?” Agatha scoffs as she thinks about how much money she's lost because she could see what her friend continued to deny.

“I'm sorry, it's still relatively new to me. If it makes you feel any better, you indirectly helped me get to this point,” Wanda lamely offers up.

“That's why I called you,” Agatha says as she is reminded why she even dialed up her friend. “How has the therapy been? Good for you?”

“Oh they've been amazing! Thank you for introducing me to Dr. Winslow, I really don't think I could thank you enough,” Wanda says gratefully.

“I told you, he's really that good,” Agatha states proudly.

“Yeah, he has made me feel things I haven't felt before, or I guess, he's made me understand feelings that I haven't been able to identify before. Yeah, that sounds better,” Agatha laughs and it makes Wanda laugh too. “Stop with your dirty mind. You know what I mean.” Agatha agrees. “It’s really weird though, I feel like he understands me better than I understand me. I'm not sure I like it but it's been helpful so I can't really complain can I?”

“I told you not to go to him unless you were ready to really learn about yourself,” Agatha says.

“I know, I know. I am appreciative and grateful and all of the other positive words. But gah, I miss the ability to hold in my feelings.” Wanda shakes her head as she thinks about you. She turns around when she hears footsteps and her eyes widen as she realizes that she didn't shut the office door all of the way. “I um I uh shit! I have to call you later Agatha! I forgot to close the damn door!”

“So much for that privacy you were looking for,” Agatha quips. “I love you, hon. Have a good rest of your evening?” She ends the call and Wanda sets her phone on her desk as she sits against the front of it and puts her face into her hands.

She takes a moment for herself then she remembers that she hasn't washed her hands yet. She quickly makes her way to the bathroom in her bedroom to wash her face and her hands. By the time she dries off she has convinced herself that you didn't hear anything because you would have come inside and done something. She considers that one of the kids might've heard but she knows who's footsteps those belonged to. They were definitely yours.

Wanda walks into the kitchen to find you chopping vegetables. “You're already starting on the salad? We haven't even talked about what we're having as the main course,” she says as she grabs her apron to have her hands do something other than wrap around your body. She hardly wears it but it was a mother's day gift from her boys a couple years ago so she keeps it around.

You shrug as you focus on chopping. “Yeah but I'm sure it's going to include a salad so I figured it'd be better to start instead of sitting around doing nothing.” You stop chopping for a second to look at her. “How was your phone call?”

Wanda gives you a tight smile as her heart pounds in her chest with fear and anticipation. She isn't ready for you to know about her feelings yet. “It was good. It was Agatha. She was just checking on how my therapy is going. Since she recommended him to me and all,” Wanda opens the pantry to start pulling out ingredients.

“I should probably start looking into therapy,” you state as you start to feel like an idiot. Of course she was talking about a therapist! She didn't push you away to be with another person, she pushed you away to be with herself. But that doesn't mean you need to feel guilty about dating. It's what she wants and you're respecting that.

Wanda surprises you by placing her hand on the middle of your back but you settle into the touch as it spreads a warm tingly sensation throughout your back. “I think with everything going on, that sounds like a great idea.” She leans her head against your shoulder. “Have things ended physically between you and Jean before?” Wanda asks carefully. Her hand starts to rub small circles on your back. You stop moving the knife as there's no more vegetables to cut.

“I wouldn't say that it was crazy physical but this isn't the first time she's smacked me out of anger. It's probably the third or fourth time. That's not to say I didn't deserve it,” you say softly. Wanda shakes her head as she moves away and turns you to face her. “Wanda, I should not have confronted her like that. It wasn't fair to her. And honestly, I felt out of control. I'm glad it went the way that it did and not the other way around.”

“Do you really think you're capable of something like that?” Wanda asks as her eyes bounce back and forth between your eyes.

“I like to believe that I'm not. I didn't feel like I was going to hurt her physically. I had no intention to. The idea wasn't in my mind. But who knows what any of us are capable of?” You reply as honestly as you can because you don't know if you are capable of inflicting physical harm on anyone. You got into little nothing fights in high school that ended in laughter before anything got serious. But nothing has pushed you past your limits enough. Even drunk and getting into arguments with someone, it never ended in a real physical fight.

“It was never going to end that way. Don’t doubt your abilities to keep yourself in check, Y/n. You are capable of many things. Choosing physical violence isn’t one of them and that’s a great thing,” Wanda says with a firm tone that makes you believe her words. You nod and thank her. “Any time. Now let’s make these kids some dinner before they start getting cranky,” she says with a kind smile before stepping away from you.

The two of you step into an easy rhythm of cooking together and when the ingredients start to create an aroma that travels throughout the house, the kids are running down the stairs eager to be part of the process. There isn’t much for them to do other than watch and wait since it was just a simple pasta with a side salad. The kids, however, made themselves useful by setting the table and getting drinks poured for everyone. When the meal was ready, everyone served themselves before meeting at the table. You love the dinners that you are fortunate to have at Wanda’s but you know that you’re going to have to dial it back soon. It’s not fair to the kids to get attached to the idea of this family. Because it's not real.

Something that you didn't realize was already a problem until a couple of weekends later. You are cleaning Rachel's room because it had gotten messy throughout the weeks and you didn't feel like arguing about it. She wasn't a bad kid and with things being tense between you and her mother, you don't feel that she should be punished for an unkempt room. You remember being a kid with a tense family dynamic and how your room would be a mess as a result of it. Cleaning her room for her healed a part of your inner child. The younger version of you who was struggling for a long time and instead of being met with compassion or concern was only ever berated and punished for things like a messy room.

Rachel had a sleepover with Tommy and Billy at Wanda’s house the night before. Wanda tried to convince you to join them but you declined. Instead, you spent the free night with Nebula. The two of you met for dinner then ended the night at your place. She has a great sense of humor and she made you laugh for hours. You attempted to do the same, unfortunately she had to politely inform you that your humor needed some work.

“But don't worry, I'm still willing to stick around,” she flipped her hair and leaned in. You smiled at her and kissed her cheek. You enjoy her company, you aren't sure what kind of future you'll have with her, but you like her enough to find out.

Spending time with Nebula made you realize what you liked about Daisy and why you kept that relationship going for as long as you did. It was how she admired you. At least how she admired an idea of you that she cultivated for years. That she managed to still like you past the mental pedestal. You might not have been aware of her crush on you when she was younger but the comments that Kate made about it made you feel good about yourself. Being with her made you feel a bit more confident even though it was at her emotional expense.

Being with Nebula is refreshing. She isn't your former boss’ daughter. She isn't your current one's sister. She doesn't know anything about your past aside from what you choose to share. And you have no ties or connection to her and her past. A past that hasn't come around to haunt her. Not that you minded Wanda’s troubles. You have plenty of your own. But spending time with Nebula gave you a new perspective when it came to dating. Sure, you still have stronger feelings for Wanda, but she doesn't want you. This time around, you have a real confirmation that she doesn't want to be anything more than a friend. You can't put your life on hold on the chance that she might change her mind.

You are snapped from your thoughts when you step on something poking out from under Rachel's bed. You look down and see a small trail of ants marching from there. “Gross,” you make a face and leave the room to get gloves and a face mask on as well as a handful of trash bags and bug spray. You hated finding old food. You hadn't realized how bad she was getting until you looked under the bed. There were stacks of paper plates with food leftover in them. There were some clothes that you suppose were meant to help hide the unfinished food. You feel a little better when you see bite marks in the moldy food but you know that you're going to have to have a talk with her when you pick her up.

You end up having to move the bed in order to get it properly cleaned and disinfected. Jean used to do the same thing when the two of you were growing up. You hope you can help Rachel with the habit before it gets bad. As much as you don't want to talk to Jean, you know you're going to have to discuss this with her. Especially since she's going to have to clean under Rachel's bed at her house.

When you're done cleaning from under the bed, you decide to strip it so that she can have clean sheets to return to. When you do that, you notice something sticking out from between the mattress and the box spring. The paper looked oddly familiar and you are reminded of the top secret project that she wouldn't let anyone see. You want to respect her privacy but the curiosity and concern takes over and you lift the mattress to pull it out carefully.

It's a flimsy poster made up of construction paper taped and glued together. At the top in big letters it says, “How to get Ms. Wanda and Baba together!” You pull it all of the way out and sit on the bed with a deep frown on your face as you read the steps of her plan. At the bottom is a little note that says, “Check Rocket for updates.” You set the poster down and go into her closet where you had found her plush raccoon toy earlier. She named it Rocket because it has a spacesuit on and she was in her astronaut phase when she received the toy as a present.

You didn't know that it had a zipper on the back until now when you find it as you try to figure out how he was storing updates for her. You open it and find folded pieces of paper each labeled with a date. You open the one from the beginning of the year and are shocked to find out that she witnessed the kiss between you and Wanda. You open another one and read about the time that you and Wanda played a dance game together in the living room while you guys thought the kids were playing with each other upstairs. She wrote about how happy Wanda made you.

Another page, she wrote about how she really felt about her accident. That she was having nightmares about the fall but that sometimes you or Wanda were there to catch her in the dream. She wants Wanda to be her mom. She wrote, “With Anna I didn't get a choice. Mommy loves Momma Anna. She's nice but she isn't Ms. Wanda. I know that I can't make Baba choose Ms. Wanda. But I can make them see that Ms. Wanda is the best person for them. I think Baba could love Ms. Wanda already. They are brighter and happier when we are with Ms. Wanda. The smile on Baba’s face is bigger than when we have Miss Daisy over. I don't like Miss Daisy. She isn't Ms. Wanda.”

You stop reading because these updates feel like personal journal entries. You fold them back up and stuff them in Rocket. You finish cleaning her room and make her bed. Not sure what else to do, you drive to a nearby store and buy Rachel a real diary with a set of pencils and erasers for her and put it all together in a small gift bag.

You leave the present in the car when you get to Wanda’s house. You text Wanda to have her meet you outside so that you can chat with her before confronting the kids. You stand outside of your car with the poster and Rocket in your hand. As you were putting the papers back inside, you realized that some of them weren't written by your daughter. So this matter wasn't just a one on one with you and Rachel. The twins were involved as well.

“What's going on?” Wanda asks as she meets you in the driveway. You hand her the poster and her eyebrows twitch with confusion. She smiles at first and it slowly drops as she processes what she's reading then it returns because it’s so silly. “Honestly, this is so cute. They ship us,” Wanda turns to you with her amused grin.

“You don't see this as a problem?” You ask as you pull out the “updates” that the kids have written and hand them to her. She reads a couple of pages before her expression changes.

“Okay, it's kind of creepy knowing that they're watching us so closely. Gahd, I really thought Billy bought that story that you had a nightmare,” she shakes her head as she lowers the pages from her view. “But, I don't know. It's kind of sweet that my boys want me with someone like you. Someone that they've only ever seen make me happy. And that Rachel would choose me to be another mother for her. Especially with everything going on with Jean. How is that by the way?”

“I stay in my apartment at pick ups and drop offs now. They don't want me near their house,” you state. “Which is fine with me, I don't want to see them either.” Wanda nods to show her understanding of the situation. “Anyway, I think we need to talk to the kids about this. I don't think it's good for them.”

“They're just kids with an innocent fantasy of becoming a family,” Wanda defends their actions. “What's wrong with letting them continue to believe that they can bring a family together?”

You frown as you look at the so-called operation. You don't know why you feel the need to crush their dreams. But it's not going to be a reality. “It doesn't seem like it could be damaging? Now I know why Rachel was so adamantly against Daisy. She won't accept anyone I date if she thinks there's a chance,” you look away from Wanda. Avoiding actually having to verbalize a rejection you're still coping with. You close your eyes and take a slow breath through your nose as you think about one of the reasons this bothers you. “I started seeing someone. It's still new and I don't think I'm at the point of introducing Rachel to her. But I might someday and I don't want a repeat of last time.”

Wanda tries to keep her expression neutral. She can't believe that you're already feeling serious about someone else. She thought you might date around but in the way she was dating around. Nothing serious, just a person or a few people to have fun with every now and then. She didn't think that you would find someone you would like enough to crush your daughter's dreams.

“You've made it clear that you don't see that kind of future with me,” you state with an emotionless expression that catches Wanda's attention. She wants to correct you but she doesn't feel that she has the right to. She knows that she is in love with you, but she isn't ready to be in a relationship. Not yet. Telling you those words would only mean she felt that way and not that she was ready to act on them.

“Right,” she nods. “Well, I don't think we should rush in there and tell them that this will never happen. Let's think about it. If by next Sunday we don't agree on an appropriate approach, then we will think about it longer. It will be okay. Besides, they might grow out of the idea.”

You nod as you feel a little bit better about the whole thing. “You're right, we shouldn't confront them about it yet.”

“Where did you get that?” Rachel says with the boys standing behind her. You and Wanda turn to look at them, then look at each other with panic in your eyes. Wanda tries to hand off the evidence to you but you push it back towards her. She pushes it towards you and the two of you go back and forth until you surrender.

“Kids, we need to have a little chat,” you finally say as you take the papers from Wanda's hands and walk towards the house. You pace in front of the kids as they sit on the sofa. The evidence is displayed on the coffee table between you and them. Wanda stands behind you, leaning against the wall.

The three kids look at each other as they wait. Each of them comes up with a different story in their heads as they wait under your glare for you to say more. They can't handle your silence and crack under the pressure. Tommy is the first to point a finger at Billy who blames Rachel who then throws Tommy under the bus making him turn on Rachel. It goes in circles until you hold your hand up. They all stop.

“No one is in trouble,” you start. You look at Wanda who doesn't have much to say on the matter. She wishes they had the week to think about this. You turn back to the children, not quite sure where you're about to go. “We are just concerned because,” you helplessly look back at Wanda. “Want to help me out?” She shakes her head and encourages you to continue. You drop your head for a second and return your attention to the kids.

“Can you explain what this is exactly?” You ask helplessly. The three children exchange looks but end up deciding to stay quiet in the end. “Okay,” you back up to where Wanda is standing. “I'm not good at this,” you whisper to her.

“I think you're doing great,” she says with humor in her eyes as she holds back from laughing. You tilt your head at her unamused. She sighs, “Okay, let me try.” She steps forward and crouches down to level with the coffee table. She looks at the pages that are full of words and drawings. Her eyes danced from page to page in thought. “Y/n is right, none of you are in trouble. We're just concerned and a little confused. What exactly are you guys hoping will happen if you,” she looks at the master plan, “‘keep leaving us alone together’ and ‘drop hints to be together.’ Do you guys think that's how families are made?”

Rachel is the first to crack this time. She starts with a shrug. Then a soft, “I don't know.” Wanda nods and with a soft expression she asks Rachel to try and explain the idea. “I just, it started when my Baba was building your wall. And I got to hang out with Billy and Tommy and Luna. I don't like being an only child. I like pretending I'm Billy and Tommy's sister. We have a lot of fun together. Then we were having the kind of family dinners I've always dreamed of. Plus Tommy said that my Baba is nicer to you than their dad.”

Tommy chooses then to speak up. “They make you smile a lot. Dad, used to make you smile sometimes but not like Y/n. I like how happy you are when they're around.”

Wanda starts to feel herself getting choked up and you can feel the weight of their words. You decide to sit with Wanda at the coffee table to continue to hear them out. “Yeah, I've never heard Y/n call you mean names. Daddy called you so many mean names,” Billy says next. “He calls us names too and we don't like it. But Y/n is always nice to us and they're nice to you.”

Wanda tries to fight her tears as she is overwhelmed by her emotions. She fucked up. That's all she can think about. She fucked up. “Mom don't cry, we're sorry,” Tommy says as he stands up and walks around the table to hug his mom. Billy joins in, cutting in between the two of you to hug her other side. It causes Wanda to cry harder even though she doesn't want to be having this breakdown in front of her boys. You start to rub her back to offer your comfort and support. Wanda believed that she was careful to not let the boys witness the darkness that loomed over her relationship with their father. That only recently they've witnessed the relationship taking a turn. To know that they've always been aware of the animosity is heartbreaking.

Rachel joins the pile. She apologizes as she does and Wanda can't tell her that she shouldn't because she is sobbing. You didn't realize that Wanda had so much pain built up inside of her. You feel guilty that you can't give her the privacy that she gave you weeks ago. With the way she holds onto her boys, it's easy to see that she doesn't mind at the moment.

When Wanda stops crying she excuses herself to clean up and instead of following her, you stay with the kids. You sit with them and listen to what they have to say. It is flattering to know what the boys think of you. And it's sweet of your daughter to want you to have what she thinks is the type of love her mom found. She wants you to be happy and she thinks that's with Wanda. You sigh at the thought.

“Honey, I am happy. I don't need a relationship to be happy. You know that,” you say. You don't want her to believe a person's happiness stems from another person.

“I know, but I want you to be happier. Ms. Wanda makes you happier,” she argues and you sigh again. She wasn't wrong but you couldn't tell her that.

“Alright, we're going to drop this and we're going to order something to eat. How does that sound?” You say because you don't know what else to do. You don't want to tell them that it's not a possibility when deep down, you hope things will change.

They agree and you clean up their little project. You don't want to throw it away so you just collect it and remove it from the coffee table. You take it out to the truck and put it in an unused folder for safe keeping. You walk back inside to find the three debating on a movie. You take the time to look for Wanda.

She is lying on her side on her bed. She is clutching a pillow to her chest. You don't walk into her room just yet. Instead, you walk back down stairs and fill a glass with ice and water, the way she enjoys water the most. The kids are focused on a movie when you pass them.

You gently knock on Wanda's half closed door and wait to be invited in. She lets out a soft, “I'm okay, I'll be down in a few.”

It breaks your heart to hear her so forlorn. “It's me,” you say in a broken whisper.

“Come in,” she sniffles and you step through the door. You shut it behind you before you walk to the side of her bed. She doesn't move when she sees the glass of water so you set it on the coaster on her nightstand. You sit on the floor in front of her and the both of you stare at each other for a long time. Her nose is red and her cheeks are pink with puffy eyes. She has mucus making its way down her nose. Her cheeks are wet with tears. You want to take the tissues from her nightstand and wipe her face but you don't want to invade her personal space without her permission.

“What do you need,” you ask after a while.

“A time machine,” she answers softly with a small tug on the corner of her lips. You flash a smile and look down at your hand for a second then look back up at her.

“Don't we all?” You pause and tilt your head so that you match her head's position. “Unfortunately, I don't have access to one of those. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Wanda scratches under her nose and cringes. She quickly grabs tissues to clean herself up but it ends up being for nothing as she starts crying again. “I'm sorry, I don't know what's happening.”

“You've been carrying a lot. It's okay to have moments like this,” you say you offer your hand. She takes it and squeezes it tightly.

“I know, but why today? Tomorrow would have been better. Or Monday. Or even next Saturday. Why now? When my boys are here. When you and Rachel are here,” she whines as she stuffs more tissues in her face. You frown and sigh as you shake your head.

“I don't know,” you answer honestly. “At least you’re not experiencing this alone. The kids are fine, they will continue to be fine. I will be here, I will take care of them. I will take care of you. I will-” Wanda’s body starts shaking as she starts to cry hysterically again. “Screw it,” you say as you climb in the bed with her and wrap your body around her to help soothe her. “Breathe, Wanda,” you say as you hold her tightly. “Breathe,” you take slow breaths for her to mimic. She struggles at first but eventually she is able to breathe with you. When she settles down and stops shaking you stop holding her and you climb off of the bed.

You clear your throat, “Drink your water. I’m going to chat with the kids and order some food. I'll check on you in a bit.” You walk out of the room and shut the door behind you as you do.

The kids each state what they are craving and so that you can help them come to an agreement, you offer them three options that come close to their requests. Then you have them vote on which one they want the most. Tommy is the first to cast his vote which makes Rachel lean in a different direction. Billy ultimately agrees to whatever Rachel wants so it makes it slightly easier until Tommy gives a compelling argument. It doesn't take too long before you're putting in their orders for Chinese food. You order your favorites and order what you know Wanda likes.

You stay with the kids and watch the movie with them to allow Wanda the time alone that she wants. Tommy expresses his boredom when you're trying to pick another movie so the four of you start to play a video game while waiting for the food to be delivered.

When the food does arrive, you serve the kids before you collect Wanda's food and display it on a tray that she has stored in one of her kitchen cabinets. You make her another glass of water and set it on the tray and carefully carry it to her room. Wanda’s face is clearer when you walk in. She sits up in her bed when she sees you and offers a tired smile as you set the tray over her lap.

“Oh this is perfect. How did you know?” She asks as she looks hungrily at the food on her tray.

You shrug and smile, “I'm just that good.” You grab her empty cup from the nightstand. “I'll leave you to it.” She thanks you as you walk out of the room. You enjoy your meal with the kids on your own and when everyone has cleared their messes from the table, you decide to bring out a board game. Wanda finds the four of you laughing together while she is bringing her tray of empty dishes down the stairs. Instead of continuing on, she hides in the shadows and just watches.

She used to do this when the boys were younger, usually after fighting with Vision. She thought about leaving him so many times but then she'd see him with the boys. He would be watching a soccer game and the boys would want his attention. He would typically ignore them or give them something to distract them or he'd send them off to their room. Those times, she worried about what their lives would be like without her. But there were moments when he was a doting father. He'd play with them. He'd watch their favorite movies with them, at the time they were animated musicals, and he'd sing along. That's when she was reminded of how she fell for him in the first place. Because when he was in a good mood, he could light up a room. He had the ability to make everyone feel as good as he felt. His mood swings were not healthy, but she couldn't justify leaving him at the time.

Now she wishes that she had done it sooner. She wonders if she had left him before he left her, would she have been able to let you in when you confessed your feelings to her? She wonders if she would have this doubt that she will ruin you and make you as bitter as Vision. Logically, she knows that Vision has always been who he is. But there is a convincing irrational voice in her head that says she is the reason Vision went from loving and present to distant and bitter.

She walks down with her tray and a fresh face. She tries to pass without bringing attention to herself but her boys jump out of their seats and run up to hug her. Wanda smiles as she greets them. You stand up and take the tray from her hands so that she can hug her boys. She thanks you as you take it all to the sink.

“Do you want to join us?” You ask, walking out of the kitchen.

“Um, I don't know. I don't want to mess with whatever you guys have going on,” she says as she looks at the board and how far they are into the game.

“Oh we were just about to start a new game, right guys?” You try to get the kids to go along with you but they disagree.

“You only want to start over because you're losing!” Rachel says, making you shake your head to deny the accusation.

“Mom, we're kicking Y/n’s butt,” Billy giggles as he looks up at his mom.

“Yeah, Y/n only wants us to start over because they're really bad,” Tommy laughs as he squeezes his arms around his mom.

“Alright, alright,” you surrender. “We're not starting a new game but I can use your help with being the banker. It's been difficult for me to keep track of everything on my own.”

“Okay, sure,” Wanda sits down next to you and takes over the banker role. She mediates arguments with the rule book. She helps you catch up with the kids with some tricks she's learned over the years and you wink at her when you notice the difference her help has made for you.

When the game is over and Billy has won, Tommy looks like he's about to throw a fit but you quickly tell him how impressive he was throughout the game. Then you say that you are proud of both of them. He holds his hand out to his brother, says “Good game,” then goes upstairs to get ready for bed.

You take Rachel home after washing the dishes and saying goodnight to Wanda and the boys. You give her the gift and suggest that she should start writing how she feels in the journal instead of random notes stored in her stuffed animal. She thanks you with a hug. When you get home you sit her down and talk to her about her recent food habits and ask her to come to you when she's ready and that for now, the two of you will be eating all meals at the table including snacks.

“You're not in trouble,” you clarify when she starts to cry and apologize. “Your mom struggled with food for a long time, honey. It's not your fault baby girl. It's no one's fault. Just, we're going to figure this out together okay?” You say as you hold your struggling daughter. Promising her that everything will be okay.

The next morning, you decide you have to violate the new rules that Jean and Anna have implemented with pick ups and when Anna sends the text that she and Jean are waiting for Rachel in the parking garage, you walk with your daughter hand in hand. Anna gets out of the car when she sees you in order to keep you away.

“You're not supposed to come out, we still haven't forgiven you yet,” Anna says defensively.

“We agreed that Rachel comes first, I need to talk to Jean about her,” you state firmly. Rachel squeezes your hand and looks up at you. She shakes her head.

“I don't want to talk about it with mom, please baba,” she pleads and you lower yourself to her level.

“Honey, your mom can help you with this better than I can. She needs to know. She can help me too,” you explain.

Anna softens a bit and turns to the car to tell Jean to get out. The four of you walk back into your apartment and sit down at the kitchen table. You go over what you found underneath Rachel's bed and some of the things you read from papers you found around her room. You didn't mention that it was from entries for her plan to get you to be with Wanda. That wasn't necessary. Jean covers mouth and starts to cry as she thinks of her history with this struggle and feels terrible for passing this trait onto her. You rub her back as you offer her comfort telling her to not blame herself.

Anna watches her wife be comforted by her ex over an issue that she wasn’t aware of. She had no idea that Jean had a food problem and she starts to realize that the signs have always been there. Moments when Jean would only serve her and Rachel and claim that she had a big lunch. Or the odd smell that came from Rachel’s room and the way that she would freeze whenever it was mentioned to her. The missing items of her step-daughter’s clothing that she couldn’t find and Rachel claimed she left it at her Baba’s house. She can’t believe she missed the signs. And she feels isolated from the family again. She feels isolated from her wife as she watches you and Jean start to make a plan for helping Rachel. Another reminder that she is your daughter.

You are unaware that Anna feels left out as you focus on Rachel and her needs. Jean thanks you for bringing this situation to her during this tense time between the two of you.

“Our differences aside, I will always put Rachel first as I’m sure you feel the same way,” you say while you hold Jean’s hand between yours. She nods as she agrees and that’s when Anna rises out of her chair. It feels a little abrupt to you.

Anna clears her throat and checks her phone, “We have to go, my mom invited us to see my parents' new place. Um, bye, Y/n,” she doesn’t look at you as she starts towards the front door.

You let go of Jean’s hand as you get up to walk your daughter out of your home. “Honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea today,” Jean tries to explain. “It’s been a very emotional day for us. I don’t know if Rachel is up for that.”

Anna stops outside the door, “Sure she does!” You are confused when she smiles at Rachel. Anna used to be the kind of person that would initiate a conversation like this. You learned a lot from her on how to be present, question, and listen to your daughter's actions and words. You don’t understand why she is brushing off something like early signs of an eating disorder. “Don’t you want to see Gammy and Pop-pop?” You cringe at the way she is talking to your daughter with a baby voice. You wonder what’s going on with her.

Rachel shakes her head and wipes her tears as she leans into your side. “No, I just want to go home,” she says in a small voice.

Jean looks at Rachel and starts to comb her hair with her fingers then looks at Anna, “Babe, let’s just go home. I’ll call your mom and apologize to her myself.”

“Fine. Yeah. Okay,” Anna mutters as she walks off.

Jean sighs, things have been weird between them after they lost the baby. Anna wants a family of her own. She knew that you weren't going anywhere and that you are very involved in your daughter's life. But she thought that she would be able to have more than a third of a say in what happens in her family. She thought you would keep your life separate from her's and Jean's and at first when she realized that the two of you were still close she thought she could handle that. Now, she almost prefers it when the two of you are fighting. Jean senses a frustration and a shift from Anna and she has begun to fear that her marriage might be in jeopardy.

After Rachel is gone, you sit in your apartment alone in silence for a moment. Letting go of the tension in your body. This was an emotional weekend. It started off pretty light then plummeted from there. You need some relief. Your first thought is Wanda because you’re not sure if she should be alone today. But you decide against the idea. You can’t be there for her like a partner would and that’s exactly what it would feel like. If she wants to hang out, she will call you. Next, you think about dialing Darcy up to hang out and when you can't think of a reason not to, she declines your invitation. She is supervising the team that is packing up her belongings. You can’t believe that it’s almost been three months since she told you she was leaving.

You haven't had a one on one with Steve since you found out about his relationship with your coworker. You've hardly even spoken to Bucky, who you've seen every day since. Neither knows that you're aware of their relationship. They think you're still upset over Steve's bad attempt at a joke. You're not against them being together but it's just weird for you.

You knew Peggy and you liked her enough for your friend. For some time you thought her and Steve would get married and start a family. You feel somewhat responsible for breaking them up by introducing Steve to Bucky. Rationally, you are aware that you're not at fault. But you can't help the guilt. And you're not ready to face them about it.

So you call the least complicated person in your life at the moment and invite her over. Nebula is more than happy to see you for a second time this weekend.

Chapter 20

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm @casualreadersstuff @neopolitan-torchwick

#wanda maximoff imagine #messedupfan answers #wanda maximoff #fanfiction #wanda maximoff au #wanda x you #messedupfan #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda marvel #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #nebula x reader #wonderstruck series #wonderstruck

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 7 months ago

Text

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 8

Hope you enjoy <3 comment and tell me what u liked about it :D it gives me liiiife

masterposst

Of course, getting into the town would be the first issue. Considering how coldly the guards had treated him earlier, attempting to casually paddle into the settlement would probably end up in disaster.

Thankfully, he wasn’t trained by Batman for nothing.

Damian stalked along the seafloor, flattening his sail and trying his best to avoid looking flashy. He kept a close eye for any patrols or wandering farmers, but the field was empty except for crops. They had likely turned in for the day, which worked out just fine for him.

Floral smells blanketed the field in a deep haze. It was oddly familiar with how vegetables smelled on land: verdant and pastoral, comforting. If he wanted to, he could probably pluck the greens growing on the edge of the field and bring them back to Phantom.

But there was likely even better food in the town proper, and medical supplies, and weapons.

So Damian pushed on. He absentmindedly nibbled some produce on the way, replenishing the energy he had squandered in his attempts to hunt. The crops were tall enough to completely obscure his body even if he were upright.

By the time Damian had crossed the fields, it was fully night time, and the field was cast with pitch black darkness, the moon obscured by cloud cover. The only light came from tiny windows out of the Atlanteans’ homes. Excellent. The cover of night was the best time to perform illicit activities.

Damian watched as the guards from earlier exited what was likely their barracks, alongside other guards. The building stood about three stories tall, with reinforced mud and stone lining its outer walls. The men and women filed out of the of barracks, armour half-undone and spears loosely gripped, laughing amongst themselves.

“The sirens trade to make another play at us. Some scrappy kid demanding shit. Could you believe it?” The man from earlier said. A chorus of laughter erupted. Damian turned his nose up at them from the rooftop he was perched upon.

Good thing about being underwater is that you didn’t need any grappling hooks to get up onto tall places. The locals didn’t either, which is why Damian kept a finger on the pulse of his lateral line, letting it warn him if anything came near.

Damian mentally noted its location, and continued. Most of the night patrols seemed to focus on covering the outskirts of the town, while Damian was already inside and in little danger of being discovered. After another brief search along the rim, carefully flitting between shadow to shadow, Damian found the jackpot. The storehouse.

It was a small mound dug into the rock with two large wooden doors and a lock. His nose picked up the same scent heavy in the area as out in the field, meaning that was likely where they stored their food.

Damian sensed no other people in the area, so he went to work. Unsheathing his claws, Damian set to work on the lock. He’d never picked an Atlantean lock before, but he was trained by Batman, so it posed little threat to him. With a click, the lock came open, and he pushed the storehouse doors just enough for him to slip inside, before closing it behind him.

Immediately he was assaulted by fragrancies and delicate flavours from every direction. Off to one side piles of crops were stacked up in neat rows. On the other side, hooks suspended the carcasses of fish.

Suddenly, Damian was made very aware of his lack of pockets.

Right, time to reroute, then.

Damian’s spine tingled. He dashed to the top of the storehouse, just as the door swung open and a pale blue light shined in.

“Hello? Anyone in here?” The soldier asked. He was a different one from the pair he had encountered earlier. This one was a bit older, a bit deeper in the voice. His posture was surprisingly relaxed, given the circumstances.

Damian could practically trace his gaze moving upward. Blast. Humans usually neglected to consider the verticality of their environment, and he could not afford to be discovered.

Damian descended up on the man. He gave a brief yelp, before Damian brought the Anti-Creep Stick upon his head. In swift fashion, the Atlantean crumpled up on the floor, still.

Maybe there was such a use for a blunt weapon anyway.

Dragging the Atlantean and tying him up in the corner, Damian set about on his task. Checking for any other interlopers, he quietly snuck out of the storehouse. It took him no time at all to trace his steps (his fin-strokes?) back to the barracks.

Careful to stay to the shadows, Damian landed on top of the barracks. The windows were small enough that a regular Atlantean could not squeeze through, but Damian’s meagre size could. Through the window, he took a peek. The room was empty. It seemed like an office of some kind, full of cabinets and paperwork.

Stalking the perimeter of the building yielded similar results. Of course the armory would be a little more secure than out in the open next to a window. There were about two guards in the entire building, which was perfectly fine by him. He’d broken into much more guarded places.

Tucking his fins flat against his scales, Damian squeezed through the window into an unoccupied hallway. The doors on the far right and far left, he had already seen. There were three more doors in the middle.

Sniff sniff… No scent coming from the first door. His lateral line tingled briefly, but the signal was weak, so it was probably detecting the residents of the building on a different floor.

The door was unlocked, which only sank Damian’s already low opinion of these people, and revealed a storage room, full of cabinets, and more paperwork.

Rubbing his hands clean of the stench, Damian investigated the second and third doors. Still nothing. He’d forgotten how much he missed Oracle’s intel. When was the last time he’d gone into a building solely off his own info?

Damian wiggled out of the window he’d come in. Time to do this the hard way.

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to find the armory. Atlantean floor planning conventions were completely different to anything he’d ever imagined. He had some close calls with the two guards, which was embarrassing because it was only because he was about ready to pull his hair out looking for the damn place.

Eventually, on the toop floor (because of course it was the top floor), Damian found his prize. In one room, medicine, painkillers, bandages and splints practically spilling out of shelves and drawers. In another, scores of swords, bows and arrows, spears, as well as more magical water-bearers lined the walls. More importantly, bags and satchels. Damian wasted no time slinging two bags over his back, carefully minding his sensitive sail, and one satchel around his waist, and helping himself to whatever supplies he could gather.

It was as Damian was securing the last of his loot that a shrill scream sent every fin on his body standing straight up like goosebumps.

“S-S-S-s-SIREEN!” A young man’s voice cried out. Damian whipped his head around to see one of the guards staring right at him, his body quivering in terror.

A piercing alarm rang out. Dammit.

Damian bared his teeth at the man. Almost immediately, the guard passed out. At least that’s one problem solved.

Squeezing out the windows was more difficult this encumbered, but Damian had to be quick, or else the heightened security would pin him down. He gave his surroundings a once over. Guards were beginning to pour into the entrance of the barracks, giving him a moment to pull the last of his ill-gotten gains through,

“Hey you, stop!” An Atlantean ordered from overhead. Damian charged the wrist ray and fired two shots at her. One hit her shoulder and knocked her back. With her line of sight broken, Damian dove for the shadows.

Ducking and weaving between buildings, Damian found the streets crawling with search parties. He was forced to turn different corners, squeeze into boxes, and jerk out of the way before search lights could fall upon him, all as soldiers shouted orders and call outs.

It was positively nerve-wracking. Finally, he returned to the food storehouse, now with two soldiers poking their heads in. That won’t do at all. There was no more time for stealth.

Damian rushed up to one of the guards, and bashed his head in. The other one cried out, and pulled out a conch shell, but Damian blasted it out of his hands before he could sound the alarm. The Atlantean thrust his spear with both hands, but Damian was much faster. The Anti-Creep Stick slammed into the man’s helmet. The helmet vibrated back and forth with a dizzying ring and the guard went down.

The small siren boy rushed into the storehouse and stuffed whatever he could find into his bags, and rushed out. Meat, vegetables, fruit, he cared not, for he had no time to.

Bright light briefly blinded him.. “There he is! Get him!” Five patrol guards. Too many. Time was up. The patrol guards alerted more with a conch shell. They held spears at the ready. “Surrender now and we won’t have to take this any further, siren!”

Hah! They underestimated his tenacity.

Damian’s tail, which had been carrying him for hours now, was so sore it felt like it was about to fall off, but adrenaline animated it with supernatural zeal. He fired the wrist ray at will. The guards were forced to scatter as Damian dashed for the bounds of the settlement. Spears shot out, one almost nicking him in the tailfin, but Damian learned from Phantom’s tactics and kept low, zig zagging to throw off their aim. Soldiers poured out of the streets, firing arrows and spears at the young boy. Soon Damian was outside the limits of town. He dove underneath the field of crops, hoping the lose the soldiers.

The guards scattered out above him. His lateral line went crazy, pinging every single soldier in close range and putting him on high alert.

“There, in the seagrass!”

A spear narrowly missed his sail.

Damian recalled Phantom’s tactics. He flipped himself and swam belly up. With a clear shot, he began to pelt the guards with continuous shots from the wrist ray. An arrow sailed right for him, but Damian saw it clearly. He knocked it away with a flick of his sword. Another guard cut him off in front. The man lunged for him with arms outstretched, but soon learnt how bad of an idea engaging him in stabbing range was.

Before long, Damian had exited the field, and was rapidly approaching the ravine. The guards came hot on his tail, but as Damian descended into the depths, the narrow passageways and foreboding darkness meant that he was alone.

All in a god day’s work for Robin.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #danny phantom #dcxdp #merboy #angst #mermaid au #acab for atlanteans i guess xD #de aged damian #mer damian #aquaman isn't in this one #yet

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sergeant-angels-trashcan · 3 months ago

Note

Headcanon Kate gives the 141 kisses and then immediately bites them to show affection like a cat

HOW DO YOU KNOW I'VE BEEN DEEP IN BITING 141 HEADCANONS

It's a love bite!! She just gets so excited by physical affection she has to nom a little. It's fine. Don't worry about it.

Price and Ghost DO NOT make it easy for her. Ghost, obviously, covering his face a lot, but Price has a beard! She can't nip at his cheek or chin, she just gets a mouthful of beard, that's unacceptable. Sometimes she bites his nose. He's smart, though, can tell when she's bitey, knows to pull away so she can't nab him. So she resorts to biting the back of his hand. He has to shave for some reason and after the first round of novelty wears off (babyface Price?!!?!) new novelty appears because NEW BITING SURFACE!!

Kate tried to bite Ghost's hard shell mask once and hated it. He covers up a lot so she can't ever shrug it off like "oh oops i didn't mean to" she literally has to ruck up a sleeve or tug his collar down. this gives him enough time to plan a RETALIATION BITE.

Not nippy ones like she does, either. Full on chomps. His reasoning is "if I have my teeth in you then i know you are not going off somewhere doing something STUPID" Kate is offended by the implication she does stupid things. rude. This does NOTHING btw to make anyone else on base less intimidated by Ghost. rumors circulate about how he bites hard enough to draw blood and that's with someone he kind of likes! (this did happen, thankfully it was not in public because they were both very kind of into it)

feral bastard man Soap adores the love bites. to the point where if he's feeling down, he'll ask for it because it's a nice little dopamine rush. When the ADHD starts ADHDing he will either bite or ask to be bitten. it works, so nobody questions it. Soap is actually more likely to break skin because he's got sharp chompers. Kate likes to bite the top of his ear. Will use the mohawk to drag his head down if she needs to

Gaz gets nibbles. comparatively gentle bites. the guys are talking about their various Kate Bite Bruises Etc and Gaz is like??? wtf are you on about??? Sure there's a bit of a sting sometimes but she kisses it away. Price makes a comment about maybe she bites harder to match the biting the guys do to her (he is correct for the most part). And Gaz is like. you HEATHENS. why are you BITING HER BACK?

This devolves into a very long (slightly horny) discussion of biting as affection, etc. as well as some brief spirals into "why isn't she biting me harder/softer???" (there's a slight chance that Kate comes by Price's office while this is the hot topic in the guys' group chat and Price relays the entire conversation to her, no this is NOT an invitation to bite me right now Katherine!!!! [Price is the only one who can call her Katherine and he's only done it twice])

Anyway Gaz gets Nice Bites until he has a close call, which prompts a very dramatic kiss from Kate followed by a very mean bite to his neck that bruises almost instantly. Gaz is like great! i now see i was not missing out on anything. let's go back to the nice bites please. (he will get nice bites when he stops doing stupid shit, and Gaz thinks that's a bit rich coming from the queen of stupid shit herself, which earns him another, if slightly nicer, bite)

One of them has the top of his ear nicked from an arrow. Not Ghost, his ears are covered, but at least ONE of the others. I'm pretty sure it's Soap but it could be Gaz. that doesn't have anything to do with biting but is important for us all to know.

#kate bishop #hawkeye #call of duty #kate bishop and tf141 #simon riley #john price #kyle garrick #johnny mactavish #this is very poly!141 #i mean i DO think she would platonically bite and kiss people #but also like what even is the true difference between platonic and romantic.#NOT THE PLACE FOR THIS SPIRAL SARGE #anyway i'm having a grand old time with this idea #i am ALSO still thinking about kate in the dcu i've actually been writing a lot more lately #the COD crossovers have me in my millennial young avengers feels again #'again' as though i ever stopped #young kate and soap meeting etc etc #yes i am writing it. what of it.

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immeasurablesaladagere · 7 days ago

Text

Bad Math

(note for my followers with requests going, I'm pretty burnt out of House atm. I will get to requests when I can, but getting back into writing for me and also my life stuff will take priority over them.)

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Word Count: 3948

Summery: Episode 3 of Double Life. Martyn regresses after accidentally killing himself and Cleo but is afraid to say anything. He doesn't have to, because Cleo can feel all of it.

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Cleo jolted up in her bed, a fresh rush of respawn-fuelled adrenaline coursing through her veins. She hissed through her teeth as moving shot painful pulses through the newly reformed muscles of her legs and back.

“Martyn!” She seethed to no one, “Oh my god, you stupid—“ That idiot had just killed them both! What in the world was he thinking!? The soul string around her finger burned with her anger and she didn’t bother to stifle it. She wanted Martyn to know that her blood was absolutely boiling. She got a dull pang of something like guilt back before he shut that down, because of course he would. She rolled her eyes.

Her joints ached as she stumbled out of bed and out the front door, but she pressed on. Her items would despawn if she wasted time, and she wasn’t going to lose all of her hard work on top of a life.

The cliff was treacherous, at least a 20 block sheer drop with mobs everywhere, and she cursed Martyn under her breath the whole miserable shuffle down to the riverbed. By the time she reached solid ground her muscles were throbbing and a small hoard of zombies were clawing at her feet. She felt the pinch of phantom fingers on her forearm, Martyn’s silent complaining, and she pinched right back. He’s done this to himself. He was lucky she wasn’t letting these zombies have a little nibble.

Some of her items were washed up on the rocks, coated in watery pink blood and muck, but the rest were floating amongst the drowned on the riverbed, not worth getting if she wanted to stay alive. She scooped up what she could and began the climb back to the top. Several of her items were missing, her food and armour were lost to the silt, which meant even if Scott could lend her something to wear she’d have to go back to the bloody caves in the middle of the night.

At the top of the cliff, Martyn’s items lay scattered in a pile where he died. Part of her wanted to leave his things to rot, maybe kick them down into the river, but instead she begrudgingly dumped them into a chest for him to retrieve. She couldn’t have him dying again because his armour despawned, even if the idea of inconveniencing him brought her a sense of sweet satisfaction.

Buzz. Her communicator vibrated against her hip, and she pulled it out.

<SolidarityGaming> WHAT

<PearlescentMoon> OOOOOO

<Impulse> Soulmate kill? O.o

<Smajor1995 whispered to you:> You okay?

<Tango> LOL

<Rendog> rip

And of course nothing from Martyn. No explanation, not even a fake apology. Cleo huffed.

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Fine. Got my stuff back

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Most of it. My armour’s gone

Martyn hadn’t shown his face yet, which was probably for the best. She might just beat the stuffing out of him if he came around for the next while. A part of her wondered why she hadn’t seen him yet, if not just to get his stuff back before running off again, his tail tucked between his legs. She stared across the chasm to his heart tower. From where she was standing she couldn’t see him in the windows or moving around on the ground.

<Smajor1995 whispered to you:> Do you want me to help you mine? I think I’ve got a spare set of boots too

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Yes that would be great thanks

The walk to their strip-mine was short, but in sopping wet clothes and coming off a respawn it felt like a slog. Thankfully she made it without running into any mobs, and Scott met her at the entrance to the mine, pickaxe in hand and a concerned look on his face. “You alright, Cleo?”

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Fine, just… frustrated.”

Scott nodded sympathetically and made an after you motion to the mine. Cleo lead them down the tunnel system until they found untouched rock, which wasn’t too far, and set up a crafting table and a couple furnaces.

They worked in an unusual silence. Typically their time together was comfortable and full of banter, but it was hard to find something to talk about besides the glaringly obvious. She could almost feel how badly Scott wanted to pry and know every little detail, ever the gossip he was, but it was clear that he was determined not to from the near-constipated look on his face.

Cleo smirked. “Out with it then, ask me what happened,” She said, resting her pickaxe over her shoulder and leaning against the wall, “I know you want to. Although, I can’t really say I know myself.”

“Why did he kill you?” And wasn’t that the million-dollar question. “I know we’re not on good terms, but I didn’t think he’d do something like that. Not even Pearl has gone that far! And she’s crazy!”

Cleo snorted, “I’ll tell you why, because he’s selfish! I don’t agree to a truce and he shoves me off a cliff!” She turned back to her pickaxe, punctuating every angry syllable with a swing. “Because he can’t just survive on his own. Ee’s like a parasite! Nagging on and on, and that weird tower he’s got in the ravine? Oh my gods—!” She was ranting, but it felt good to vent her frustrations to someone who wasn’t terminally dense and obsessed with the idea that ‘he’s your soulmate, you have to make up!’. What nonsense.

“And now we’re down a life, and I’m going to be stuck picking up after him because it’s always me, isn’t it? And it always will be! He’s just going to go running about willy nilly and I’ll have the consequences!” She swung her pick down with more force than was probably necessary, crumbling a pocket of lapis into dust, “He’s like a toddler!”

Suddenly, speak of the devil and he shall appear, there was a tug on their soul bond. It wasn’t ticks of damage like usual, it was an emotional tug. A ripple of nervous butterflies fluttered through her stomach, and she paused. Strange. Not the feeling itself, but the fact she’d felt it at all. The both of them had been stubbornly careful not to let their feelings slip through their bond ever since they’d officially split off in the first session. Probably a close call with a creeper.

Finally, after what felt like the thousandth poke-hole in the rock, she hit a pocket of iron. “Aha!” She exclaimed in victory, “Finally! This should be enough for at least a chest plate and some trousers. Come check it out, it’s massi—“

She faltered. There it was again, stronger this time. Her stomach twisted with what was definitely fear, and something else, too. It was fuzzy and hard to grasp.

“Cleo? You alright?”

“…Yeah, I just… Martyn’s doing something. He’s probably caving.”

Scott hummed, sitting cross-legged on the ground and tossing a few pieces of raw iron into the furnaces, “Is he taking damage? You looked kinda scared there for a second.”

He hadn’t, but Cleo checked her health bar anyway to find it perfectly intact. “Nope. He probably just got ambushed by a mob or something, clearly he’s not the most careful man on this serv—“

It was then that it crashed over her; the string on her finger tightened and a wave of crystal-clear and suffocating sadness flowed through it. It startled her just how fast her eyes welled up and her chest squeezed, nearly winding her. “What on earth..?” She gasped. Her pickaxe clattered against the stone floor as she stumbled back against the wall.

“What’s wrong!?” Scott clambered to his feet and rushed to her side, “Do you need food? How many hearts are you on?” He demanded, shoving a piece of bread against her hand.

Cleo quickly straightened, gently pushing the bread away, “No I don’t need food, I— I’m fine, just—“ What was Martyn doing?

Part of her wanted to ignore this. Whatever this was, it wasn’t her circus or her emotional monkeys. Physically they were fine, so it was fine. She scrubbed the tears out of her eyes, only for them to come right back, blurring Scott’s fretting expression.

But the other part, the stronger part, told her that this wasn’t normal. Something was wrong with Martyn and she couldn’t help but be worried. Outside of the game they were still friends, and she still cared about Martyn’s wellbeing even if he was being a terrible partner right then.

“Something’s wrong with Martyn.” She said. Well obviously, well done there Cleo, very observant. “I don’t know what but it’s… a lot.”

A thick, hazy feeling settled behind her eyes like molasses. It felt gentle, like it should have been pleasant, but it only amplified the swirl of emotions rushing through her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffled. Deep in her chest something was crying out for comfort, and she had to stop herself from instinctively reaching out to grab Scott’s hand, even though he probably wouldn’t have minded.

Scott took a deep breath, tapping his fingers quickly against the hilt of his pickaxe. “Right. Not much to go off of, then. What does it feel like?”

She struggled to get her thoughts in order as wave after wave of emotion came through their bond. It was overwhelming, flooding every corner of her brain like tar. “Goodness gracious, keep it together, Martyn…” She mumbled to herself, trying to at least keep her vision clear, “Um… It’s like, heavy? He’s definitely sad, scared I think… My head’s all fuzzy.”

After a moment of looking deep in thought, a look of dread suddenly dawned over Scott’s face, “Oh no…”

“What? What is it?” Cleo asked, voice creeping on desperate as the storm inside her slipped into her voice, “Don’t just say “oh no” and then stand there with that look on your face, it’s stressing me out!”

Scott looked at her, eyes wide. “He’s not regressed, is he? Surely not.”

All of the pieces were suddenly falling together to make a terrifying picture. The hiding, the suffocating fuzzy feeling, all of the emotions flowing through their bond, the crying— Martyn was little.

Cleo’s mind raced. There was a child running around in the middle of the night during a death game, scared out of his mind and most likely defenceless. It was a miracle he hadn’t taken any damage yet. Heck, it was a miracle they weren’t dead yet, came a sobering thought, it was a miracle he wasn’t chased down by a hoard of zombies, backed into a corner a slaughtered. Ex-soulmate status be damned, she needed to find him and soon. She fumbled with her belt for her communicator and quickly typed out a message with shaky fingers.

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Martyn where are you

To her surprise and slight relief, it didn’t take long for Martyn to respond.

<InTheLittleWood> i’m fine

<BdoubleO100> ?

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Sure. What’s wrong? Are you regressed right now? Also you’re in main chat

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> Fine. Not small. Dw boutt it

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Martyn. Stop messing around, where are you? Don’t make me get Grian, I’ll make him stop the session right now if I have to

The fuzzy feeling increased, and she blinked hard. If the rampant spelling errors in his messages weren’t enough to convince her he was small, that sure was.

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> Spswn

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> spawn

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Stay there, I’m coming to find you

“I’m going to get him.” Cleo said, pocketing her pickaxe and equipping the iron boots Scott had given her. Her shield was shoddy at best, but they hadn’t had enough time to make her anything else and they didn’t have any to waste now. It would have to do.

Scott stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, “Do you want me to come with you? If you give me a sec I can make a new shield and—”

“No, it’ll take too long. Besides, I think it’ll just freak him out more if you’re there with me.” She rubbed at her eyes and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring look.

“Alright, I’ll catch up, then. Just… be safe, okay?”

“I will. I’ll be quick!”

The run to spawn was a gauntlet, and the burning in her chest and throat wasn’t helping. Thankfully the tears had slowed and her vision was clear enough to dodge mobs as they appeared from the brush. By the time she arrived the sun had begun to crawl over the horizon, but the mobs wouldn’t be burning for at least another hour, which meant they weren’t safe just yet.

Martyn hadn’t sent any more messages and he was nowhere to be seen at spawn. Anxiety rolled in her gut as she scanned the tree line for Martyn’s obnoxiously bright outfit. She was just about to message the group and rally a search party when she saw it.

A dirt shack. Built up at the base of a scraggly oak tree was a small dirt box, just big enough for one person to be huddled up inside if they really squeezed. She approached cautiously, noting the uptick of nervousness inside her as her footsteps grew closer. She carefully dug away the wall, and there was Martyn. He was curled up tight, red-faced from crying and snot dripping from his nose, staring up at her with eyes blown wide.

Cleo couldn’t help but wince; he was certainly a sight. They stared at each other for a beat before Martyn simply dissolved. He began to cry once more and the tears in Cleo’s eyes returned with a vengeance. He curled impossibly tighter into his little ball and began mumbling something. Most of it was complete nonsense, but she was able to make out one word, over and over again. ‘Sorry’.

A weight dropped from her shoulders and she let out a breath of relief. She schooled her expression into something softer and tried to bend down to his level, but Martyn tucked his face between his knees.

“Martyn? Are we maybe feeling a bit little?” She tried her best attempt at a comforting tone.

“‘M sorry!” he babbled, sniffling loudly, “Didn’ mean t’hurt you, I was joking, I didn’t mean it!”

All this trouble for a joke, of course.

“I’m not angry with you, I’m just glad you’re safe. This server’s dangerous for a little kid, yeah?” Her assurances didn’t seem to make anything better. In fact, Martyn only seemed more upset.

His fists clenched into the fabric of his jeans and his head shot up, “You are angry!” He cried, “’Could- ‘could feel it! You’re angry at me an ‘m sorry! I didn’ mean it!”

Cleo sighed. He was right, she was angry. Buried underneath Martyn’s hurricane of emotions there was still anger for him, but that anger was for adult Martyn. Stupid, shortsighted adult Martyn who got them both killed, not the blubbering child in front of her.

“Martyn, look at me.” He whined stubbornly and turned away, and Cleo rolled her eyes. Oh no, she wasn’t in the mood for this game. “Martyn.” Teary yellow eyes peeked up nervously at her.

“I am angry, alright? I’m angry we died, but there isn’t anything we can do about it now, is there? You didn’t mean to kill me, but we’re still yellow. That’s that.” Martyn sniffled, and Cleo could see a fresh line of tears forming in his eyes. “But, just because I’m angry doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I want you to be safe, and I’m certainly not going to leave you all alone while you’re little.” Martyn seemed to consider that, scrubbing clumsily at his eyes.

She reached forward and gently adjusted his headband from where it had begun to slip down into his face. “There we go, no more crying now. Would you like a hug—? Oof!” Martyn in her arms in an instant, crushing her in a death grip. He buried his nose into her shoulder and sniffled wetly.

“Oh, gross buddy. Just getting snot all over my shirt, hm?” She chuckled, patting him gently on the back. He squirmed to be nearly cross-legged in her lap, slightly awkwardly because of the height he had on her, but she accommodated as best she could.

They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, only broken up by the occasional sniffle. The golden string wrapped around Cleo’s finger felt pleasantly warm, the knot loose and flowing instead of suffocatingly tight, and she wondered absently if this was what the bond was supposed to feel like. Comfortable and soothing.

So soothing that she heard the rattling bones of a skeleton behind her just a second too late.

Martyn gasped, “Cleo there’s a—!”

A sharp pain shot through her shoulder and she yelped. Martyn squeaked, and she curled defensively around him. The mobs.

She pulled out her shield and propped it behind her, and a second arrow lodged into the splitting wood with a thunk. “Martyn, can you run?” Martyn only blinked up at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed like a fish. She grit her teeth, “Alright, up we go then!”

Ditching the shield she hoisted him up under his thighs and prepared to make a run for it. Just as the skeleton drew back another arrow, it was smashed into a pile of bones by an out-of-breath Scott.

“Run! I’ll cover you!”

Arrows whizzed past her head and zombies turned to follow her as she ran through the woods, and she prayed to admin that none would connect while she was toting a grown man on her hip. She could hear Scott not far behind cutting down anything that got too close, and thank the Admins for Scott Smajor.

Cleo liked to think she was strong, but Martyn wasn’t exactly a featherweight. By the time they all made home and the door was shut firmly behind them she was panting and her arms felt like jelly.

“You, alright, Martyn?” She huffed, leaning him back to get a look at his face. He nodded and gave her a shaky smile. “You’re very brave then, aren’t you?”

“The bravest.” Martyn muttered, letting his head bonk against her shoulder. She winced. Now that she had a moment to breathe, she could feel the arrowhead grinding against her shoulder blade and the trail of sticky blood running down her back. Martyn was probably a similar story. It was a wonder he hadn’t started complaining about it yet.

“Cleooooo,” Came a whine in her ear, “M’arm huuuurts.”

There it was. She chuckled. “I’m sure it does. Let’s get patched up then, hm?”

“I’ll see what we’ve got.” Scott said, sounding rather winded as well.

Cleo set Martyn down on the bed and dropped down beside him with a groan. She could be helping Scott find first aid, but she was pretty sure she’d earned a break at this point. Scott returned from the chests with a half roll of gauze and a meagre amount of instant health in a bottle.

“We don’t have much potion left, but I think we have enough wool for more bandages if we need.”

“Oh, we will need. Hand me those, I’ll get started on Boy-Wonder, here.”

“Arrow first.” Scott reminded, and oh right, the arrow. “Fast or slow?”

“Fast.” She said, then reached over and grabbed Martyn’s hand. “This is gonna hurt for just a second, okay? Squeeze my hand real hard.”

Martyn nodded nervously.

Scott set one hand on her back for leverage and grabbed the arrow with the other. “Deep breath, you two. One, two… three!”

Cleo grit her teeth and Martyn whimpered as the arrow came out, squeezing her hand like he was trying to pop a balloon.

“See? Not so bad, was it?” She said tightly, but it was hard to look convincing when Martyn’s tears were welling in her eyes. “Now, bandages. C’mon, shirt up.”

After taking a moment to collect himself Martyn tried his best to wiggle out of his shirt, but of course he didn’t take his bag off first and before Cleo could even attempt to correct him he was already tangled and giving her the most pitiful look.

“You know what? That was my mistake, let me help you with that.”

Mirroring her own, there was a small puncture wound in his right shoulder blade bleeding sluggishly down his back. His wasn’t going to be nearly as bad as hers, but the emotional damage probably made up for it.

“This’ll make it feel better, alright?” She uncorked the bottle and dumped what was left of the potion over the wound, and watched as it began to stitch itself back together. By the time the potion was done, Martyn was in need of little more than a band-aid and her back felt a lot less on-fire than it had a moment ago. With the help of a bit of slime, she secured a layer of gauze over what was left of the cut and helped Martyn wrestle his shirt back on. Was it completely hygienic? No. But it worked in a pinch.

“Now you.” Martyn said, making a grab for the gauze.

“Ah-ah, nooo thank you.” She said, “I think Scott will help with that.” Not that she didn’t trust a toddler with her medical care, but he’d probably make a mess with the slime and she’d had quite enough of bath time for one night.

He pouted. “But I’m your soulmate! I wanna help!”

“You are, but you’re also quite the tiny thing, and I like this shirt. Scott gets it, don’t you, Scott?”

“Sure do.” Scott took the slime and bandages from her and in less than thirty seconds the job was done.

Even though the day had only just begun, Cleo was absolutely knackered. She glanced out the window at the rising sun and blinked blearily. “We should probably let Grian know to call a break, shouldn’t we?”

“Noooooo…” Martyn whined, before letting out the world’s biggest yawn.

“Yep, on it.” Scott pulled out his communicator and sent the message, and a few seconds later the break message went out.

“Alright, naptime.” Cleo said, pulling Martyn to lay down on the bed with her and halfheartedly tugging up the blanket. Being able to finally close her eyes after the night she’d had felt like heaven.

Scott smirked and took pity on her, and helped bring the blanket up the rest of the way. “You two sleep, I’ll be across the way if you need me.”

She cracked one eye open as he turned to leave. “You sleep too, don’t think I forgot I dragged you out of bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Goodnight, Cleo. Goodnight, Martyn.”

Martyn was already dozing off, but he still giggled and called back a quiet, “Good morning, Scott.”

The door shut and the two of them were left in a comfortable silence. Their soul bond wrapped around them, pleasantly warm and light. Cleo was just about to fall asleep when she felt a ripple of guilt.

“…Martyn? What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” She mumbled.

“M’sorry, Cleo.”

She rolled her closed eyes and felt around for his hand, holding it loosely. “I know you are. If you really want to make it up to me, you’ll relax and have a sleep. Cleo’s tired.”

“…M’kay. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Martyn.”

#tsfw age regression #sfw agere #agere blog #age regression #fandom agere #fanfic #mcyt agere #mcyt #double life #zombiecleo #scott smajor #life series martyn #trafficblr

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igglemouse · 4 months ago

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Amanita Succubari is a fungi that is pretty toxic, in certain doses, of course. If you're down for a really bad and trippy trip, take a nibble of it, that's all it takes, just a nibble and...you know, I could go for one right now. I wonder if one of the many protection spells that guard my being would prevent it from melting my mind too much...

The plan was to gather a few, stuff em in my bag, and wander around Windenburg with the intention of picking up whatever else there is to pick up. Herbs, rocks, fungi, just whatever?

This is all part of my morning routine which was part of my dream of being the world's best gatherer. Okay, yeah, that's not my dream. I really don't have one outside of making it to the next day I suppose and hoping tomorrow is better than today.

Thing's are not that bad but...

Let's not get into my situation right now, it's too personal, it's too much of a sob story for you all to even care about? Maybe it's too cliche? Is that how you use that word? Maybe it's just a little boring and yes, even more boring than watching me chip away at rocks hoping to find gold.

Spoiler alert. I don't. I'm the exact opposite of lucky.

I guess I'm not too unlucky because after all, I'm alive. That does count for something, especially with the kind of life I've had to live. Yeah, again, let's not get into that. The important thing is I make it back home and thankfully I avoid all the nosy neighbors who enjoy watching me go about my morning routine for whatever reason.

Collecting gems and making jewelry is the only way I know how to make simoleons, for now, or rather it is the most comfy way to do it. I'm sure I could find a regular nine to five but honestly I don't think I can handle a mundane job so for now, until I need more simoleons or something, this will be the source of my income.

I'm a complete noob at it and most of what I create is actually very bad but I do have faith that in time I'll improve.

You know what? I'm just now realizing that you all don't even know who I am? After all this time I've yet to introduce myself so ummm, here I go.

Welcome to the life of Gracelyn Matlock, yes, Matlock. That surname might sound familiar to you, it might not, I hope not, because I tell you the amount of trouble I've found from simply telling people that I'm a Matlock, the last known surviving one at that, astonishes me.

Some people really do hold grudges and I'm speaking of the generational variety. Hate that runs so deep that my children, should I have any, will have a basket full of insults before they can even speak.

Why? Well, we Matlock's are a very magical family.

Watcher, what are they even putting on networks nowadays? Anyways...

You might not believe in magic but I do have proof. See? Do you see! Sparkles! What's the spell called? I don't know, sparkles? Yeah, I just short of wriggle my fingers and ta-da, SPARKLIES!

Any ways or rather, long story short. My family, my parents to be exact, did their best to use their power to subjugate and control any and everyone they ran into pretty much and their bad actions has basically banned me from the magical realm. Despite me having nothing to do with it I've been told I'm far too much of a risk and so here I am, sparkling up my fingers with just a pinch of success.

If magic runs through my bloodlines it has likely skipped right over me.

So what you see here is just a normal girl. Mainly, at least.

Sure, I can do a few tricks but they never amount to much. Obviously so since here I am in a humble little house eating mac and cheese that came right out of a box for dinner.

If I were some powerful spellcaster I would at least feast on steak every night. I'd poof it into existence or something.

Despite it all I believe it is for the best. The no magic thing I mean. It allows me to be free and it gives me a chance to be normal.

Like for instance, I get to head over to the bluffs on a perfect lukewarm day and just sift through the pool and enjoy the world around me. Appreciate the water on my skin, the clouds drifting by, even the mosquitos buzzing about in frustration as they realize I might appear a perfect feast to them but they can't partake.

I've been told that when you have magical ability it is harder to appreciate the natural world. I don't really understand why that is but...again, maybe that is for the better?

So I have no issue just floating and letting the day pass me by.

And pass me by it does...

Before I knew it the sun had fully retired and the once orange sky had given way to a deep and calming blue.

Despite the soothing vibe that came with night it also dragged in a chill. Well, more than a chill as snow, speckles of it really but snow all the same, started falling from the sky.

That's Windenburg for you, I guess.

I should have fled home. After all, it was chilly enough to nag at me and late enough to remind me that I should be in bed and yet...

And yet this castle, a reminder of times past, nabbed my attention. It was a little while off from the bluffs, a long ways off, actually, but it stood so stern in the distance that it touched my curiosity and pulled my feet, step by step, nearer.

It was Chevalier Castle. The place my friend, my dear friend Valerie, told me about. Warned me about even.

But standing before it didn't scare me. It was just a castle, after all. Whatever happened here happened long ago, but now? Now it was just an empty place. Maybe I'd adventure through it sometime?

Not tonight though...

Episode List - Next

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #gracelyn matlock

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ebonyslasher · 1 year ago

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What’s going on Sis! I have a little request!

Female Slashers Being Invited to their black! S/O family Cookout!

Please? For the culture! And thank you ❤️

Hey sis! I'll definitely do that for you and the culture 💕

Female slashers being invited to their black!S/O's family cookout:

Although there's a bunch of human food, and she can't eat any blood: it smells delicious. She'll nibble on some before she hits her limit. Too much human food can make her barf. And she doesn't want to be disrespectful.

Plus the food was DIVINE. Oh, that sweet red velvet and that mac and cheese~. Now y'all know white people love some cheese!

Might want to watch your hornier cousins around her. Can't have them going missing.....

Will she dance? Sure. It won't be on beat sometimes but she looks great doing it!

Most of the family likes her, except a few. Your conservative aunties/grandma turn up their nose at the way she dresses and parades around. You tell her not to mind them.

She's pretty chill, although the temptation of eating your horny ass cousins is high. Y'all might have to leave a little early.

Oh wait, a smoke break? Excuse me, a trip to the corner store. Yeah let's go and get some snacks rq

Very excited to meet your extended family.

Overwhelmed by 2 things: either or both by A. how big your family is or B. how outgoing they are.

Thankfully, they figure out fast that she is shy. So most back off and leave it to just and introduction. A few try to get her out of her shell. "Ay girl, you don't have to be so shy!" "We wont bite ya!"

She thinks they are wonderful and she loves how hospitable they are towards her.

You'll find her either sticking right beside you or by your other very shy cousins hanging out around the house.

Dancing? OH NOOOOOOOOOOOO. Maybe next time?

The food? Delectable. Carrie stares at the desserts very longingly. But, she'll need to wait until she finishes her main food! That's what she was taught. But one problem is...if she makes it there.

"Oh, y/n I'm so sleepy." The itis done got to her.

She goes to find a room but there's a bunch of toddlers drooling on the bed. It's such a cute scene, but not what she needs. She goes to try to find another unoccupied room.

Lady Dimitrescu:

"Dear...why are we going so late? They said it'll start at 2:00 pm."

"Lady D...START isthe key word here. It's a suggestion anyway."

She thinks you want to be fashionably late but nooooo. The food won't be done by then. And most of the family damn sure wont be there. We play on CP time honey.

Y'all get there via her monster transformation, since her big tall ass can't fit in a regular car.

And you did warn her ahead of time that she will get comments about how tall she is. Especially from your one cousin that couldn't keep their mouth shu-

"Damn cuz you aint tell me you gotta AMAZONIAN." Lord here they go. Other than the occasional, "Damn, she big!," Lady D mostly deals with stares the whole time.

And of course that one uncle and cousin dup have to ask, "She give you dat snu snu?," trying to play with you. You try not to laugh but it's a little funny.

Out of respect of your family, she doesn't bludgeon your very thirsty uncle.

The food smells appetizing, but she will have to pass. It'll fuck up her stomach, unless it's a very bloody piece of meat. The desserts are what she can eat. She adores the peach cobbler and the key lime pie.

She tries to dance but she accidentally knocks a few people over with her hips. Oh well!

Dre:

She knows what time it is. They said 1:30 pm? Y'all not going until 3:30.

Scarfs down the food, it's scary. Some of your family are looking at her like she crazy. And she is.

"Damn, the food ain't going nowhere!!"

She knows that!!! But it's just too damn good!

Dancing? Eh, if she's in the mood. If your family has been really nice she might. She will request a Queen Ni'jah song.

Speaking of that, she will be adamant on asking your cousins if they fuck with her. You already told them ahead of time to just say yes.

She hangs out in the corner, strategically placing herself by the food.

She'll play some games, surprisingly good at spades. Her favorite part is slamming the cards on the table. Basically this video.

#slasher x reader #carrie white #jennifer check #lady dimitrescu #dre #carrie white x reader #jennifer check x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #dre x reader #swarm #black reader

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jjtheresidentbaby · 9 months ago

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˚. ❝₊˚ 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 ❞ ˚₊·

» spn agere week: day 4, little one is sick, angel to the rescue - feb 1st

» for @spnagereweek event || on my ao3 | 700+ wrd count

» little!sam & caregiver!gabriel & caregiver!dean

» warnings: talk of sickness, nothing graphic, pet names

“Hey thanks for coming Gabriel.” Dean greets as the angel steps into the bunker, hands fidgeting with his shirt hem discreetly. He’s nervous, he’ll admit it, Gabriel’s nervous to be doing this. He knows he’s more than capable of healing whatever illness Sam has come down with but he’s never seen the hunter regressed, and he doesn’t have much experience with kids.

“I don’t know what’s wrong but I’ve tried all the cough medicine and Tylenol and a normal doctor but I just- I can’t stand seeing him so sick anymore.” There’s a tiredness to Dean’s voice that makes Gabriel’s face fall. Most times he’s interacted with Dean it’s been snarky comments and stern orders, Gabriel almost gets the urge to reach out and put his hand on Deans shoulder, see if he can take some pain or maybe help him feel better. Even if he isn’t the one that’s sick.

“Little angle magic will fix him up.” A small smile gets sent Gabriel’s way before Dean’s opening the door to Sam’s bedroom, letting Gabriel go in first.

The bedroom looks relatively normal, what Gabriel was expecting from Sam: books scattered around- though there’s more children’s ones than he thought there’d be-, his laptop plugged in on a desk covered in papers, barely any real decor because Winchesters seriously lack taste, a picture of Sam, Dean and Castiel hung up on the wall. All of it checks out. Or, almost, because there’s a mountain of stuffed animals on Sam’s bed, which he’s hiding under, and a trash can piled high with tissues that makes Gabriel cringe. Poor kid’s been sick for some time.

“Hey Sammy, Gabriel’s here to see you…” Dean reaches into the stuffed animal pile to assumingely rub a hand at Sam’s back, he gets a grunt as a response.

“Okay ouch. C’mon kid you should be excited to see me, hello I’m a walking candy dispenser.” Gabriel walks farther into the room and throws his usual charm onto his words, it seems to work as Sam’s head pops up between a plush bunny and tiger.

“What kinda candy?” Sam’s voice comes out raspy yet still sweet and innocent, it makes a smile spread over Gabriel’s face in an instant.

“What kind do you want?” He moves closer to the bed and Dean seems to understand what he’s doing as he steps back and crosses his arms to observe.

“Strawberry.” There’s a lisp when Sam talks and he reaches to rub his nose against his, thankfully sleeve covered, arm. Gabriel almost shudders, kids are gross, but it’d probably offend Sam a bit and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Strawberry coming up.” There’s suddenly a plethora of strawberry candies in Gabriel’s hand: lollipops, those hard candies every old lady has, gummies, strawberry flavored marshmallows. Unsurprisingly Sam’s eyes light up and he quickly crawls out of his stuffed animal mountain to get closer to where Gabriel’s standing by the end of the bed.

“Which one Moose?” Apparently the strawberry marshmallow was the right thing for Gabriel to conjure up as Sam takes it without hesitation.

“Dean said you didn’t feel good, you think you can let me take a look?” Sam nods mindlessly, holding the big marshmallow in both his hands like a mouse, nibbling on it which is also very mouse like but Gabriel assumes it’s to savor it.

He takes the moment to brush Sam’s hair back, his forehead is sweat covered and hot to the touch. The longer Gabriel presses his hands on Sam the more concerned he gets, his throat feels a little swollen, all his skin is far too hot, sweat beading down the back of his neck, and he’s sweat through his shirt. Gabriel honestly doesn’t know what’s wrong as the symptoms seem like something that human medicine should be able to heal. It doesn’t really matter though- he holds his hand in Sam’s hair so his palm can rest on his forehead and takes whatever sickness it is away.

“Nose isn’t stuffy no more.” A grin breaks on Gabriel’s lips, he finds the way Sam is staring up at him with big doe eyes and his mouth slightly open in shock, absolutely adorable.

“You should be all better kiddo.” Sam’s eyes suddenly fall to the halfway eaten marshmallow in his hands, his jaw dropping farther open as if the marshmallow was the thing that healed him. Gabriel knows this is the first time he’s seeing Sam regressed but he seriously loves him already.

“De’ Gabe gave me magic marshmallow!” The two caregivers share a laugh over Sam’s excitement and Dean comes over to ruffle Sam’s still sweat soaked hair.

#spn agere week #supernatural agere #little!sam winchester #caregiver!dean winchester #caregiver!gabriel #sam & gabriel #sam & dean & gabriel #gabriel supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #jj writes

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the-kr8tor · 4 months ago

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Hobat brown's got me going hard into my bat phase again PFFT I will always be a halloween fanatic Daily Hobie HC! Hobat brown time Obviously, Hobie can always turn into a bat. After all, what vampire can't? The somewhat cute, yet amusingly annoying thing however, is Hobie can decide what specie of bat he wants to be. Thankfully, he's usually content being the biggest type to still have the feeling of being tall..being a fruit bat. Of course, his little face is always still recognizable with those spiked accessories and piercings. And obviously, those mischievous, loving eyes that always seemed to soften whenever placed upon you. When Hobie had shapeshifted into a smaller bat specie, he'll always nestle into the crook of your neck, his little body covered by your hair as you go about. Whether you've been invited to hangout with friends, or just at the store buying groceries, he'll be a little fuzzy ball curled up at the side of your neck. If he wants your attention during these times, pray you don't have an earring on, because Hobie will manage to bite onto it and give it a little tug. Or he'll chitter endlessly until you acknowledge his presence. Depends on how Hobie feels like. Around the house, Hobie will most likely be his fruit bat form, if not vampiric. He'll cling onto the back of your shirt if you're doing something, his wings draping over your shoulders as his face is immediately buried into the back of your neck. The first few times he'd do this, Hobie genuinely thought it'd be something to tease you with, but now it's just something out of affection, seeing as you didn't have any negative reaction, and often acknowledged him with a gentle rub at his wings. Even when you've decided to take a little nap, as a bat, Hobie will drape himself on top of you like a small blanket, enjoying the close proximity and warmth. One thing Hobie will never pass up the opportunity to do though, is to lick you. Even when he's a microbat, he'll sometimes just start licking your neck. Not out of hunger, but just to hear you start giggling since Hobie's very aware how ticklish you were there. Although you aren't sure which form you find more cute- annoying. Annoying..you can't deny that you love it. Even as a vampire he will still nibble on your neck playfully when you allow him to. Hobie won't even be needing to feed, and just wanting to show you how much he loves to tease you. If he is feeding from you, he'll gladly tell you if you need more iron or not in your blood. Despite the fact he drinks your blood, he makes best for telling a pretty good blood test result. And not only will he tell you what you need based on your blood, but will wholeheartedly go out of his way to get you something that might help. Low iron? Strawberries, watermelon, raisins. Low magnesium levels? ROASTED CASHEWS. Hobie never does this with what he's getting from you when he buys this and gives you it to eat, but instead is rather thinking of how he can raise your levels so you don't suffer. Whenever he notices subtle changes in your blood, sometimes he won't tell you, and will nonchalantly just give you foods that will raise the lowered levels. You never knew why sometimes Hobie would just randomly give you a plate of washed and sliced strawberries after he drank from you, until you asked, to which he nonchalantly just pointed out that you were low on iron. One of his very major rules however is he'll never take your blood while your uterus is having a tantrum. Especially at that time of the month, he's perfectly satisfied with alternatives. Hobie wouldn't even dare putting his fangs near your neck, opting to just smothering you in kisses whenever you feel terrible. -🐦‍⬛

He is a cutiepie! I would love to hang out with him and terrorize some ppl lol

Daily Hobie HC ❤️

So adorable! I can imagine a tiny bat swinging around while he clings to my earrings 😍 imagine that he's so small that you've forgotten that he's perched on your shoulder and he suddenly licks your neck making you jump lmao

Hobie leans away from your neck, mouth covered in your blood: *smacks his lips* hmmm needs more iron (I'd side eye him fr)

😂 i can imagine that he has made the error of feeding on you while satan's waterfall is visiting you and you suddenly collapse and fall limp in his arms 😆 he has never been more afraid thinking that he has drained you 🤣🤣🤣 (poor vampire)

#ask answered #chatting with lovelies #hobie thoughts #hobie headcanons #daily hobie hc!!#🫶🫶🫶#🐦‍⬛ anon

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huffelpuff210 · 1 year ago

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Protecting, Chapter 5

After that day, Steve explained what was going to be happening from now on, You were to listen to everything he says, When he says it. You are to obey his every command like a good Omega should. If you were to disobey him there would be punishments. You were free to roam the house but you couldn't leave even if you tried all the doors leaving the house had a fingerprint key lock so it would only unlock for Steve's fingerprint.

The house was bigger than you thought with a total of eight bedrooms, You had no idea why he needed such a big place. The entire situation had you're head spinning. You were currently sitting at the table eating breakfast with him, He made the breakfast, Pancakes with bacon, and Orange Juice you nibbled here and there but you had no real appetite, You're nerves were a wreck, You were anxious because the only thing in the entire house that smelled like you was the clothes on you're back. It made you as an Omega that much more anxious.

"You should really eat more sweetheart." Steve says pulling you out of you're thoughts You slightly look up at him he was smiling at you and you quickly look back down at you're food.

You could feel you're heart hammering against you're chest, You felt like you're life was slowly slipping from you're fingers, Just because an Alpha figured out what you were. The entire thing was unsettling and unfair.

You heard him sigh hearing the chair screech on the wooden floor, You hear his footsteps approach you. His fingers on you're chin making you look at him.

"We need to work on you looking at me." He says you dart you're eyes so you don't have to look at him He squeezes you're chin forcing you to look him in the eyes,

"If we're going to make this relationship work, you need look at me." He says smirking at you

"Do you understand?" He says

He tightens his grip,

"Y-Yes." You say

"Good Omega." He says smiling letting go of you're chin.

"Now go get cleaned up I'm sure you want to shower." He says

You nodded

you walk back into the bedroom, and Into the bathroom. You see a large window. You see woods, You grab a Towel and break the glass climbing out of the widow cutting you're skin on the way out. You jump out of the two story window, Landing in a squatting position, You look over you're shoulder not seeing anyone you stand up and make a run for the woods, You needed to get out of here and go back into hiding.

As you're running you see the front door swing open seeing him running after you. You push yourself to run faster, You knew if he caught you it wouldn't end well, Just the way he's been with you, The lengths he took just to get you.

You finally mad it in the woods jumping over logs the twigs and leaves crunching under you're bare feet, You knew you couldn't stop running, You had to make it, You had to get away from him no matter what, Because what he's got planned for you, He wanted you to obey him like you have no rights to have an opinion,

You look behind you and he's still pretty far behind you, Thankfully always running from you're Alpha father and training you could easily out run him besides most Omega's are a bit faster than Alpha's which gives you an edge.

You look ahead to see a man with shoulder length hair standing there with his arms crossed, You zig zag and cut to the right running away from the other man, You can feel your eyes glowing from the adrenaline,

You look back at the two they stop in their tracks seeing you're eyes. Most Omega's have yellow eyes, but not you, You're eyes glow a Icy blue,

You keep running taking advantage of their shock. You see a ravine and smirk picking up speed jumping and landing on the other side, Hoping that would loos them, You keep running only to be tackled to the ground, You grunt as you were tackled it knocked the wind out of you. You see Steve hovering above you glaring down at you. He has you pinned to the ground by you're throat.

"Oh sweetheart, That was an incredibly stupid thing to do." He says glaring at you

#dark alpha steve rogers x omega reader #dark alpha bucky barnes #dark avengers #alpha omega #omega reader #mcu smut

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colderdrafts · 1 year ago

Text

10: Time passes by

Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. Previous Next

The next couple of days go slow as you wait for the return of the full moon.

The daily routine here is simple, and easy to fall into. Collecting water, managing the fire and cooking station, learning the quickest route to the surface to enjoy the sun, busying yourself with books you can’t yet read, joining Dren for ventures around the cave and idle talking along the way - since your visit to the marketplace, you've had some better opportunities to keep yourself occupied down in the dark.

It also serves as a nice distraction to go about your business like this, so that you don't have to think too much about what transpired at the lake. The lingering awkwardness from that encounter makes it difficult to look Dren in the eye sometimes.

He’s away a lot of the time, thankfully. He’s slept a lot more than usually the past couple of days, sometimes in the pod above yours, sometimes somewhere else, supposedly close to his eggs. You chalk it up to the fact that he’s still healing – perhaps having a few days at home where nothing is happening has allowed him to rest more fully than before.

Still, when present, Dren acts as he usually does, occupying himself with work around the cave, tending to his eggs or helping you get better settled in. He’s started a new project of weaving you something to actually sit on, so you have some level of comfort whenever you're using the living room - even if you're not entirely sure how long you will stay after you've talked to the harpy.

A slight change, however, is he's been more apprehensive when approaching you. Like he suddenly has to be more careful. His usual focus on you comes interrupted, and he's limited the amount of times he touches you, much to your chagrin. You've respected his apparent unspoken request for space, though it leaves you to deal with chasing out the constant pressure in your chest on your own, and it is not easily ridden of.

As infuriatingly stubborn as the one who most likely put it there. Hopefully, your next trip will help you figure out what to do about that little feature as well.

Waiting for the full moon is like a countdown toward the unknown, and the days have passed in relative peaceful stillness. Tonight the moon will finally be full, which means today may be your last one here.

It’s sunny out, so you’re taking advantage by spending most of your time at the entrance of the cave. The wind blows gently through the leaves of the trees above, cool temperature nibbling at your skin. Sometimes a stray dead leaf falls in your path, announcing the seasonal change. It's just you, the wind and some birds chirping somewhere from high above you. It's peaceful here - it's been some time since you've been in a place that was just comfortably quiet like this.

But you’re not just here to listen to birds calling - you’ve started your own little project as well. In your hands is a small pouch with assorted flower seeds you got from the marketplace, and in front of you a little plot you’ve cleared to plant them. Dren is still sleeping, so you’ve got some time for yourself to work on this.

It’s something nice to do for him as a thank you. He’s been a vital piece in ensuring your survival here, after all, in more ways than one - even while he’s asleep. You glance at the web running underneath your feet, spun to accommodate your time outside and your need for sunlight. If anything but you disturbs them, Dren’ll know. Even when not around you, he’s still making sure you’ll be alright.

You smile at his overprotective nature – but, admittedly, it does feel a little safer out here when you’re in contact with his alert system.

You stretch your sore, cold fingers and breathe hot air on them to get some of the chill out. Autumn is certainly not the best timing for this objective, but now is the time you’ve got for sure to do this. You’ll have to chance it. You're working with the cold ground for things to settle and hopefully start sprouting come spring - if anything, Dren will have a new hobby to look into, and perhaps tell his offspring about.

It's nice to do simple things that feels like it will bring about something positive. Something to leave behind and be remembered by.

You're engrossed with carefully placing small flower seeds in the ground, when you register a change in the air. The relative peaceful stillness you've felt has turned to utter silence. Why have the birds suddenly stopped singing?

A familiar piercing pain in your chest suddenly makes you gasp as your core tightens, answering your question. Perhaps the birds simply know when it's best to leave. The hairs on the back of your neck stands on end as it seems you're not alone out here anymore.

So much for some peace and quiet outside. It was good while it lasted. You breathe deeply, acclimating to the unpleasant feeling, and return the seeds to their bag. You slowly stand up in preparation for taking flight.

If you'd get that far, of course.

"I know you're there," you say, resigned, speaking out loud in their general direction. This might not be a smart confrontation, but you can't let them keep haunting you either. What's that saying about facing your demons? You'll have to remain on guard, but you know for a fact that, if your current stalker tries anything, the warning strings will alert Dren to their presence. "Go away."

The forest slowly parts with bushes rustling as a familiar shadow steps out from under their cover. Their brown spider legs part the leaves as they move – bit by bit, as if giving you time to adjust to their presence.

Morgan leans heavily against the trunk of a large birch, hand gripping it for support and staring at you. You can already feel your body freezing, heart rate picking up.

This is the first time since the fight you've seen them up close. Their appearance is no less striking than it was the first time you saw them, if not even more so no.

Their gangly body and uncanny features are seemingly heightened, the threatening aura of a cornered, injured animal. They're bruised and battered in much the same way as Dren, partially healed, but wearing a particularly nasty mark on the side of their jaw, and the beginning of scarring tissue from wounds running along their whole body.

They look haggard and spent, seemingly in pain, yet their striking red eyes are as intense and focused as ever. When they speak your gaze is drawn to their sharp teeth.

“Peace, sentry," they say gently, soft tone completely contradicting everything else. Their voice weaves through your mind, and settles over your overly active senses like an anesthetic fog. You’re almost happy to see them. "I’m not here to fight.”

You try to maintain eye contact, not letting yourself be intimidated by the red stare that sends your fight and flight over the edge. An odd standstill between running for your life, yet still yearning so badly to leap straight into their waiting arms. Are you relieved they’re alive? Your skin can still remember how warm they were, and it makes you nauseous.

Thankfully, you have a healthy amount of righteous vigor keeping you level-headed. You swallow hard to muster it. After all, this is a dangerous person who’s a threat to your existence.

"That's honestly surprising. If you're not here to fight, but just here to be creepy again, save your breath. I'm not interested in talking to you," you growl at them. "Leave me alone."

"Ah, but I think you are," Morgan replies, daring to step a little closer. They pause to assess the webs running underneath you, and place themself close, but without touching them. They chuckle lightly at your snark. "But no, I'm not here to be creepy either."

You don't move back at their approach, no matter if you might want to, holding the bag of seeds in front of you like a useless shield. It is not wise to give audience to someone who threatens your livelihood - and that of your host's and his children. You should turn away this instant, leave them behind and sever whatever they did to you here and now. Or at least try your best to do so.

“Then why are you here?” you find yourself asking instead.

“To make amends,” Morgan replies, lowering themself a little. “And talk a little about this thing we’ve got running between us.”

“There’s no thing-!”

Morgan suddenly leans forward in one quick motion, their face an inch away from yours, leaning over Dren’s webbing. Instead of flinching, you find yourself breathing out, finally feeling the tightness in your chest calm immensely. It’s like an instant relief to a panic attack. You almost lean your forehead against theirs to bask in the utter peace that has suddenly washed over you.

“Mmm, there we are,” they purr, chittering pleasantly. “Much better, isn’t it?”

Their drawling voice brings you back to reality, and rage flutters under your skin. You reel back, and knock your forehead against their nose in blunt retaliation.

Morgan recoils with a startled hiss.

You grasp your forehead and wince. Maybe not your smartest approach - they have a surprisingly sturdy face.

“You're being creepy,” you snarl, rubbing the sore. “Again.”

They grasp at their nose, red eyes focusing on you curiously. Then they laugh, an unnerving low chortle. “The longer you push me away, the worse it’s going to get, you know.”

“The un-do it!” you demand.

“Then you will have to let me get close,” they say patiently, casually settling down in front of you, calmly folding their legs. The fucking audacity. “Very close.”

“Not a chance,” you huff. “Think of something else.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t anything else, sentry," they shrug, weaving their hands in the air like curling a finger around a string. When they do a small tug, you can feel it, jutting you forward just a fraction before you can stop yourself. They obnoxiously send you a knowing look.

"Knock it off," you grunt, leaning back again.

"I can't. This little string of fate has us thoroughly connected, whether you accept that fact or not. We will keep this little dance until one of us dies.” Morgan peers at you with a casual expression. “I’d rather prefer if none of us die, you know? It’s more or less the whole point of this arrangement.”

"You just said you could un-do it!" you argue.

"I can un-do that it will get worse," they clarify. "It goes away when you let me close, doesn't it? Why not just let me? Then we'll both be better off."

“Better off? You're kidding, right?" you ask, incredulous. "Nothing good could ever come out of this. I don’t even know you! If it's terrible now, I don't even want to think how bad it could get."

“If we stick together, it won't,” they reassure you.

"Yeah, I don't really believe that at all," you deadpan. "This is some sort of weird magic manipulation, isn't it? I'm not gonna get close to you again in a million years. Whatever the hell you did to me hurts."

Morgan pauses for a second. They have the grace to actually look a little regretful of that fact. "I know it does, sentry," they sigh. "It goes both ways, after all."

You frown. "You're in pain too?"

"More so than from just my injuries." They jest, though their smile comes a little forced with thinly veiled frustration. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to resist every single nerve in my body on fire, because I need to be close, and you. Just. Won’t. Let. Me?"

"You did that to yourself," you sneer, unsympathetic. "And you forced me in on it too."

"You would have been snatched if I hadn't," Morgan counters. "I was making sure you wouldn’t be. I didn't get to do so properly, and here we are. This is not a proper bond, it’s just some sort of painful connection that wants to be completed. I can solve this. It would be so easy, if you'd just let me."

"Why are you so obsessed with this?" you ask. "I know you could just end this if you wanted. If this is hurting you too, why not just get rid of me? I’m right here.”

"Probably for the same reason you haven't called for the other one to come get rid of me," Morgan replies, nodding to the protective warning threads you're standing on. They flash you a fanged smile. "I'm right here, too."

You grit your teeth.

"You can't, can you?" Morgan hums teasingly, eyes full of warmth. "You - don't want me to get hurt."

Don't you?

All it would take is a little shaking of the thread that's running right underneath your feet. One simple movement, and this would all be over. Morgan is challenging your resolve - your ability to refute what they're saying. You want them gone, and yet the nerves controlling your arms are simply not responding to your mind's command to move.

Unless you're not even trying? It's hard to tell.

"Don't worry," they continue softly at your silence. "I don't want you to get hurt either. Even if it is taking all of my strength to not immediately get you out of there, and make a run for it."

“What’s stopping you?” you grunt.

“He is,” Morgan hisses, scowling toward the entrance of the cave.

“Make sense. He sure showed you last time."

Morgan shakes their head. “No, sentry. I’m not worried about me. I’m afraid he will hurt you if I don’t get you out of there properly, and in time.”

What is that supposed to mean? “Hurt me? The only one who's hurt me here is you. What the fuck are you talking about?”

Their eyes narrow. “He’s spinning that web, is he? Keeping you in the dark? Someone in their right mind would have connected with you by now. I do wonder what in the blue moons is stopping him. He must be in pure agony to spend so much time around you. Fighting himself all the time.” They chuckle. “Good.”

You haven’t thought of that, you reluctantly admit.

“So why does he do it?” Morgan continues, focusing on you. “Especially if - does he have eggs? Cave dwellers like him usually do.”

Why on earth would they ask - your eyes widen just a fraction at the realization. Would that knowledge be advantageous to them? They wouldn't ask if it wasn't.

They chuckle at your expression giving it away. “He does, doesn’t he? And not even hatched this time of year. So vulnerable, aren’t they?”

You resist the urge to angrily invade their space at the comment, settling for a venomous glare. “Don’t you dare threaten them,” you growl defensively. “They’ve got nothing to do with all of this.”

They smile a little wider, like your fury made them giddy. “Of course not! Just curious. But especially so, what you’re doing here is simply baffling.”

“Well, good thing our relation doesn't concern you,” you sneer. A memory flashes in your mind, Dren’s entire body curled around you, a warm breath on your neck, idling hands on your skin and his insatiable need to be closer – you mentally fight it off like you’re scared Morgan can see it.

“Oh, but it does. Your relation is the very thing I’m concerned about,” they argue, obviously not noticing your cerebration. “We’re solitary, sentry. We don’t hold affections for things we’re not connected to. Your kind being the only exception - but it requires you give your heart. I just wonder how much longer he can keep this up before he cracks, and simply kills you.”

Well now. Isn't that the statement of the year? “Bullshit. He would never do that.”

Would he? He'd kill anyone else without a second thought.

The faintest doubt runs through your mind, and you know for sure it isn't yours. But Morgan catches the little insecurity of your statement regardless, and smiles like they intend to use it as kindling for a wildfire.

“Isn’t it odd how much faith you’re putting in him this quickly? I suppose we are good at making you feel safe. But what has he done to earn your trust?” they inquire.

You look at them, unimpressed. “He saved me from you.”

“He didn't save anything. He’s just made sure we’re both on a road towards an unimaginable amount of pain,” Morgan corrects you, not acknowledging your quip. “It looks like he tried to do good, but really, he only did what any other of our kind would do. I know how we work, sentry, and we’re nothing if not selfish," they chuckle. "And now, he doesn’t even make sure you’ll be safe from himself? What a poor excuse for a caretaker. The only thing he did was creating a loss.”

A loss? You relation with Dren is anything but. Having him in your corner has been a stability you've severely needed in your current dangerous situation. What the hell does Morgan know about what’s safe?

This is one of those mind-games a person like Morgan would utilize to get what they want. You’re sure as hell not going to let them manipulate you again.

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe anything you say, can you?” you ask.

Morgan has the gall to heave an exasperated sigh, as if they genuinely don't understand what could possibly justify your mistrust.

“I'm fearing for your life, sentry. You could die, and I'm trying to prevent that. You know, since I have a very high risk of literally dying without you. So, I would do well to be truthful here, wouldn’t I?" they pause for a bit, letting their words settle with you. "But even if he manages for now, it will still be the same result. He'll kill you come winter anyway,” they add nonchalantly.

You shouldn't give in to them. You shouldn't let them inform you of things and plant seeds of doubt in your mind, you know they're just telling you this to do just that.

Still, you can feel how the thoughts are growing despite your best attempt to pull them out like weeds.

You huff, deciding reluctantly to hook yourself on the bait. "Why?"

They focus on you intently. "If you're still with him when he's about to enter hibernation, and you are not bonded? His hazy mind will not be able to recognize you from an actual threat. He will kill you without hesitation."

You stare at them, trying to discern if they're speaking nonsense or lying to your face. Morgan holds your eye, perfectly serious expression trying to convince you that they, most certainly, are not.

"I, on the other hand, am already connected to you," they continue. "If you want to survive, you should stay the winter with me.”

"Yeah, nope. Absolutely not. Besides, I'm not gonna be here for the winter," you counter, shaking off their warning. "So that won't be a problem."

That piques their interest. "Oh? Where, pray tell, might you be going, then?"

Oh. You scramble to find an appropriate answer, but it's already too late. Morgan spotted your minuscule falter the second it was there. Judging from their humored look, they're already aware you were preparing a lie.

"It's none of your concern," you settle for. No point in even trying, then.

"But I want it to be," Morgan says gently, casually twirling the invisible string in the air. You feel queasy. "You can tell me, it's alright. I'm very good with secrets. Trust me."

Guess it wouldn't hurt to let them know.

"Well, I'm not-" you halt yourself with an odd choke, clasping a hand over your mouth.

What the fuck?

Morgan regards you with a calm smile. "It's alright, take your time. What were you about to say?"

You flinch back. You should have left them in your dust the second you sensed them here. Why the hell are you still talking to them?

Morgans stands up, a little slower, reaching toward you. "Easy sentry, calm down. Come here. I need to tell you something."

And you do. You stop yourself from turning away, reluctantly remaining on the spot and staring back at them.

They stop in front of you, barely on the edge of the protective webs running below you, easily within an arms reach. They could grab you and run if they wanted to, yet you don't disengage.

They lean close again, and the ache in your chest almost vanishes. You take a deep breath, listening to their calming chittering.

Morgan breathes deeply as well. "Perhaps I should give you some time to think on our conversation," they say softly. "I'm patient, don't worry. Eventually, you'll come to me."

"In your dreams," you whisper, halfheartedly in defiance.

"What a wonderful idea," they whisper back, gently reaching up and cupping your face.

You shiver as their eyes burn into yours, feeling the warmth from their hands setting off the nauseating crawling sensation underneath your skin. It’s like something inside you is writhing, squirming, an effort to get closer to Morgan’s heat, pulling you with it. Why do they smell like blood?

"Listen carefully," they urge, voice low, speaking through gritted teeth. You can hear a scratching noise from their legs clawing at the ground. "The longer you push this, the crazier both of us are going to get. The further we go, the more unbearable this pain. What you're doing right now could kill us. So do both of us a favor, and make up your mind to just love me. We're not moving on without each other, no matter what we do now."

You muster enough disdain to tightly grasp at their wrists, yet you can't tear their hands from your face. You can't look away. "Love you? What does love have to do with any of this?"

"Love is a monster that could crush you, and you need to learn to trust that it won’t," Morgan whispers. "No matter who of us you go to, it will be the same. There will always be a price. But they will differ. You just have to decide which one you want to pay. Do you want to die, or be loved?"

How do you respond to that? Morgan holds your eye for a few seconds, before sighing, and leaning back, hands falling down their sides as if in defeat. Their face contorts in pain when your palms leave their skin.

"I'll be around, sentry. I'll know if you need me," they promise.

With that, Morgan swiftly ducks back into the forest and vanishes in between the trees. You silently watch them go, resisting your body screeching at you to follow.

Later in the day, that urge has not gotten easier to ignore.

You've tried everything you could think of to rid yourself of that maddening little thing tugging inside of you, going as far as trying to manifest the 'string' in your mind, and cutting it with a knife. It doesn't work, of course. It stubbornly keeps its hold on you.

Your first thought was to inform Dren what happened, yet it's nearly impossible to get the words out to him. His warning of what might happen should Morgan come close again echoes in your mind, and you find yourself unable to speak, your voice tied to a knot.

Dren could end this. He's shown to be the superior fighter between them. You need only ask, and this whole thing would go away, and you wouldn't have to feel like this.

But you can't. You can't do anything that would put them in harms way.

But you can't go to them either. They would never let you go again, and you don't belong here. It doesn't take a genius to figure that Morgan most certainly wouldn't give two cents about where you came from. Their mind is firmly set on you being their salvation, the one who can finally give them a reprieve to the horror their kind face in this world. And the horror you would have to endure without them, lost to the trenches to be forever hunted and shunned.

This is your home here, the only option you have. Let them provide it.

The wooden spoon falls to the floor from your shaking hands, and startles you back to awareness with its clatter.

The stewing pot in front of you fills the living room with a pleasant savory aroma as you curse, shaking off some boiling water that hit your hand at the fumble.

You sense movement behind you, and don't need to turn and look to know Dren is there, likely alerted by your outburst. He seems to have adjusted to your rhythm, and frequently joins you whenever you're about to eat or sleep.

"Are you alright?" he asks, leaning down close to pick up the spoon and hand it to you. One of his legs brush against your side as he moves. "Did I startle you?"

"No, it's not you. I'm just clumsy today. Thanks," you add, taking it from him. "Guess I'm still a little rattled about all of this."

Dren considers you for a second longer than he has to, standing close. It occurs to you how tired he looks, his long hair unruly and heavy bags under his eyes. You hold his gaze for a moment, suddenly unsure which one to look into. You breathe out silently when he eventually moves back with an affirmative nod.

"How was your day?" he asks casually, grasping the wall to pull himself up. He's heading toward the storage space he utilizes for weaving materials. The chair project is coming along nicely.

Tell him what happened.

"It was alright," you sigh. "Just did some gardening. I'm not sure if anything's going to blossom, though. It's kinda the wrong season to plant stuff."

He joins you on the ground and shrugs. "If it's enjoyable to you, I don't see why you shouldn't give it a try. In any case, it's not time or effort wasted if you liked it."

"Guess not. I planted a lot, though," you warn. "If it works, I hope you like gardening."

“I will learn,” Dren chuckles. “I’m still grateful you wish to create something for me.”

He settles next to you with his project in hand, calmly resuming his weaving. You fidget with the spoon in your hands.

"How are the eggs?" you ask after a beat, mouth dry. The silence is getting to you.

"They're fine," Dren replies, eyes on his work. The twigs and straw in his hands are twisted and turned in a steady rhythm, expertly woven together. "Good, actually. Progressing as they should, and safely tucked in as needed. I'm looking forward to finally meeting them all at spring." He smiles, obviously excited. You find some peace in that expression, his genuine warmth doing wonders for your current state of mind.

"I bet you're a great parent," you note. "You always seem so happy when you talk about your kids."

"Well, I try to be," he says, sheepish at the praise. "They deserve a better chance for what's in store for them. I'm happy if I can provide that for them."

Stillness again.

You look him over, casually sitting where he usually does, focusing on the task at hand. It's hard to decipher if he's trying to distract himself from interacting with you too much. Even harder to decipher whether it would be okay to simply not let him. He must be in pure agony.

You should tell him. You should really, really tell him what happened outside. You should let him end this torment.

You pour yourself some food, and sit down to eat. You dinner suddenly isn’t as enticing.

"You're shaking," Dren notifies you quietly, still not looking up from the straw in his hands.

His front legs are settled with claws in touch with the patterns in the floor, and you surmise that's how he could tell without looking at you.

Your stomach drops. Of course he’d know something was up. Hell, he knows when you need fresh air before you do sometimes. The awkward distance he keeps does not make this any easier.

"I know," you mutter, putting your supper aside. Your appetite has vanished.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asks.

"Well, you could stop avoiding me."

It came out a little more snappy than you'd imagined it would, if the way Dren looks up at you in surprise is anything to go by.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "It's just-"

You falter, not sure how to approach this. There's not much else to it. It's just this gaping hole in your heart that makes you feel completely and utterly alone, tearing at you to alleviate it. And now not even Dren has been helping you with that, not since you approached that dangerous area of closeness.

He gets up and joins you next to the fireplace, settling down heavily. Suddenly having the hybrid arachnid in your space like this again, you cannot help but feel a little small.

"Just-?" he encourages.

"I'm in a lot of pain right now," you admit, scooting back to give him some space. "And I'm not sure how to handle it."

Dren frowns, and slowly leans toward you. He carefully grasps your chin to turn your face as if looking for damage. "Are you hurt?"

"Not exactly," you mutter, leaning into his palm. You can feel the soft glow of his energy ebbing beneath his skin.

He gently nudges you to get you to look him in the eye. You're met with a sudden stare so intense it borderline shocks you. Dren brushes a thumb over your cheek like a silent apology.

"It's them, isn't it?" he asks directly, calmly.

You hesitate, and perhaps that's answer enough in itself. His eyes darken, and it sets off a subtle fear in the back of your mind.

"I do understand the effect we can have on each other," Dren says, measured. "I'm not as foolish as to believe they will give up that easily, not after what happened on our last trip. Did they approach you again?”

You force yourself to nod.

Dren chitters. “And you did not tell me?"

"I couldn't," you reply. "I don't know - I just couldn't."

"What did they say to you?" he inquires. He has that same calculating look on his face he did the first time you met.

The words are stuck in your throat. You cough, stuttering it out. "They said you'd kill me."

He stares like you've just purposely lit his den on fire. He releases your chin, balling his fists, supposedly to keep himself from accidentally squeezing you.

"And you believe them?" He asks, but it sounds borderline like an assumption.

"Of course not!" you protest. "I don't believe anything they tell me. I know they're manipulative and dangerous."

"Then why are you protecting them?" he demands. "I've told you this threatens me and my young, too."

You can sense his tension, lower body chittering, black eyes rooting you to the spot. And it now comes to you why Morgan would warn you. Dren is just as dangerous as they are. What happens if this giant predator decides you’re not worth the risk to keep around anymore?

This is one of the very rare moments you get to see him angry. Angry with you. That's somehow the worst thing of this.

"I'm not -," you falter. "I'm trying not to. But I can't stop it. No matter what I do, it just does not go away."

His eyes narrow, and you can hear him clawing at the ground, agitated. He stands up with purpose.

"When did you last see them?" he asks.

"What are you going to do?"

"When?" he repeats.

"This afternoon," you manage.

He frowns. "They may be long gone, then," he mutters to himself, considering for a moment. He chitters, having come to a decision. He eyes you. "Can I trust you to keep an eye on my home while I'm gone?"

"Of course you can," you assert, borderline incredulous. That he'd even ask - this is the one thing you can do. "I don't want anything to happen to any of us either."

"Then you'll understand why I have to do this," Dren says. He looks sad all of a sudden. "I don't want to cause you further pain. But I will not hesitate for the lives of my children. I need you to understand that."

He leans down close, pausing as you slightly flinch at the approach. His eyes widen, seemingly finding something in your expression. He carefully puts his hands on your shoulders as if to take you in again, letting you draw strength from his heat.

"If you wish for us all to live peacefully - Fight them," he utters with a drawling hiss. "Please."

"I'm trying," you say, putting your hands on his chest. "I'm sorry."

Dren sighs, look softening. "It's not your fault."

He gently releases you, but you don't miss the way his expression shifts to that of cold ruin as he turns away from you. He dashes down the hallway and out of view, leaving you to deal with your heart-rate increasing tenfold on your own. You have to support yourself with a hand on the wall to keep from tumbling over from a sudden dizziness.

Dren will kill them.

He most certainly, no hesitation and without remorse, will kill them. If he finds them.

Good riddance, you try, but of course it doesn't work.

You quickly turn to climb to the view of the outside, staring out into the dark forest.

A few minutes pass.

It's blissfully quiet.

No gleaming eyes hiding in the gloom, not rapid footsteps, no snarls or hisses or fighting, and no deaths in your vicinity. It's just you, hidden beneath the rocks and soil in the dark.

You shouldn't be relieved, yet you are. Morgan's smart; they'd never stick around long enough for Dren to notice their presence or get the jump on them. Seems they indeed were just here to talk. Still, their mere presence has set a heavy burst of discord into your relative peace. It dawns on you that this might just be what they’d come here for.

It's very late when Dren finally returns.

You almost jump out of your skin when he does - you'd been wandering the spaces between the rooms you frequent and keeping an eye out on the tunnel to the surface as promised. You'd taken a turn back to the living room and suddenly he was just there, quietly towering over you.

"Jump-scare," Dren recalls, palms out as if to help steady you from a distance. There’s leaf litter stuck in his hair. He must have gone fast. "Apologies."

You suck in a breath and curse. "Yep. Got me good.”

He seems a lot calmer now, at least. And more importantly, unscathed, and not covered in blood.

You’ve also had some time to come down from the spat and the subsequent fear that followed it. This is just Dren. Of course you can have disputes with him like a normal person. Morgan has just been feeding you unneeded paranoia.

You dare step a little closer, looking up at him. You almost feel silly for asking. “How are you feeling?"

Dren sighs, and settles down in front of you. A peaceful gesture. "I got some time to clear my head."

"Did you find them?" you ask.

"No,” he huffs. “It was a fools errand. I knew it would be, but I had to try. I suppose I needed to feel like I was doing my job."

"You are," you placate, joining him on the ground. You resist the urge to lean into him. "I'm sorry I've been making so much trouble for you."

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry I frightened you."

"I can survive a jumpscare," you jest, waving it off.

He smiles sadly. "Not that. Before. When I lost my temper, you looked at me much the same way you did the night we met. I didn't like it."

"You had every right to be angry, Dren. I was putting us all in danger."

"You had a conversation with the person who's manipulating your heart, and you're trying to fight them off by yourself," he says. "I just didn't realize how strong their grip had gotten."

It sure has, hasn’t it? It is getting harder to ignore. You huff. “I can still feel it. Even now, it just hurts.”

Dren chitters lowly. “All the more reason to put an end to it.”

"But they said there’s no undoing whatever this is,“ you note. “Dren, you have the same magic, don’t you? Do you know if there’s anything I can do?"

He considers for a moment, idly opening and closing his hands. As if summoning his own ability to feel for solutions. "I'm afraid not. If it works like normal, then until they perish, it will be like this. Unless-" He pauses.

"Unless-?"

"Usually, creating a new bond would overrule the feeling of the previous one. I’d assume it would be the same in this case, even if this is different."

You nod. "Overrule - but wouldn't remove it?"

"I don’t know. Nevertheless, we both know why that solution isn't a good thing for you to pursue," he says, fidgeting. “Otherwise, you know I’d offer in a heartbeat.”

“And I’d accept,” you shrug.

You can feel Dren’s lower body shifting as he turns to stare at you. You opt for looking at the fireplace to avoid his gaze.

“Is that so surprising?” you ask.

“Yes? No-” he flounders. “I had a feeling you’d consider it at least. But hearing that out loud is – different.”

You give in to the temptation, and simply rest against Dren’s side to show him you mean it. Immediately his warmth alleviates some of the unsettling pressure. You still feel his eyes on you, though a leg curls around where you’re sitting, a hand coming to comfortably rest on your arm. Seems he’s still alright with this.

"It's the full moon tonight, isn't it?" you say.

Dren nods.

"Then tomorrow-"

"We’ll find out if that’s to be your last day here,” he finishes, pedipalps fidgeting. He gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “You should not hesitate if it is. I'm certain not even this little parasite can follow you to a different world."

Supposedly not. You briefly wonder if it will hurt to go back.

Dren’s presence makes you wonder how it will hurt in more ways than one.

You feel his body relaxing, and you enjoy his company in mutual silence for a bit, just appreciating sitting close to him again. Why is he indulging now of all times? Perhaps he needs the reassurance as much as you do.

Still, you should probably discuss it, instead of making assumptions. Acting like an adult for once.

You nudge Dren’s side to regain his attention. "About what happened at the lake-"

Dren halts his mental retreat to carefully glance at you. "Yes?"

"Are we going to - you know. Talk about that?"

He hums. "We could."

"Would you prefer not to?"

"Oh, most certainly," he nods sagely.

You bark a laugh. So much for acting your age. "Yeah. Me too, bud."

He chuckles. "It is a little - challenging, for me. Having you here. More so than I expected. We’ve already discussed why it would be."

"I know. But that - that wasn't just about the bond thing, was it?"

"Not necessarily. Perhaps? I don’t know. I just wanted to be close to you,” he says. He eyes you, a slight smile on his lips. “And I sensed you didn’t mind.”

You snort and purposely bump into his side. “The water was very cold, and you are very warm. Easy math.”

“I’m happy you find my temperature comfortable,” he jests.

“Does that mean this is still okay?” you ask, gesturing vaguely at your sitting together. “You’ve been avoiding touching me at all since that night. I was wondering why.”

He sighs. “Having you close only to release you time and time again is – not always easy. Especially considering, eventually, that one time I do, it will be for the last time.”

“Oh,” you say. You can’t really say much else. He’s right. You shouldn’t push this on him if he finds it easier to simply not engage and spare the turmoil.

“But that’s very silly of me, isn’t it?” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“Is it?”

Dren leans against your side, a pedipalp curling around your waist. “Perhaps I should just enjoy this while I can.”

You lean back into him, breathing out in relief. The clawing sensation within you diminishes, pushed aside by the gentle ebb of Dren’s energy settling through you in it’s stead. “This helps, actually. With the pain.”

“Does it?” he yawns. “I’m glad. And it might go both ways. I’m about to fall asleep, I think.”

You chuckle. “You've slept a lot lately.”

“We’re steadily progressing through autumn. My body’s slowing down,” he shrugs, settling against you. “I’ll be asleep for good soon.”

And then he won’t be able to recognize you from an actual threat.

"What should we do, then?" you ask, forcing it to the back of your mind. You close your eyes and relax to the sound of Dren’s breath, his company calmly thwarting the idle sickness growing inside you.

Dren rests his head on top of yours. "I'm going to help you find a way home."

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