#darkness is a lack of light but light is not a lack of darkness

[akanemnon]

Oh my god. I reread the comic after the last update, and THE SIGNS WERE THERE THE WHOLE TIME-

He snuck through while everyone was distracted with the fire. (See: Chaos Arc. Reread it, it was a perfect opening.)

"Runs in the family", huh, Susie...

Because he's from the other Light World/Undertale universe.

Yeah. Yeah, that sounds accurate.

Putting his parents on trial/asking for them as sacrifices as a sort of revenge for making the last of his safe place (his family) crumble

The tally marks that could be counting anything, from resets to attempts at a certain outcome to a way of trying to keep track of something real,

the twisted reflections that stare into your SOUL (or lack thereof) and remind you of your sins,

the fakeout flower creature that is obviously a representation of how he sees himself?? A disgusting, monstrous, empty beast whose only purpose is to lash out and hurt??

OF COURSE HE HAS ONE OF THOSE, HE HATES HIMSELF AND REMINDS HIMSELF OF IT ALL THE TIME

And as the cherry on top, the DETERMINATION ties in. He has enough to take back the SAVE files in the player's absence, of course he has enough to make a Dark Fountain.

Yeah, they're f(un)ked

Thank you for attending my Flowey-based TEDtalk, let's get this guy some self-esteem

Have I already said that I like it when people pay attention? Because I do!

[emmyrosee]

your phone has been buzzing non stop for the past fourteen minutes. you know it’s been fourteen minutes, because the blinding light that emanates from the device blings every few seconds. when you grumble and turn to glance at it, the bright lights read 00:14.

your body is fatigued, tired from being pulled out of your sleep, and to be at the mercy of whoever is texting you so early- late?- has you feeling more and more agitated than the last. the room is dark, vision adjusting to the lack of light, save for the brightness coming from your phone. you furrow your brows, grimace, and it isn't until your phone starts to ring that you whip it off the charger and hold it up to your ear. "someone better be dying-"

he chuckles softly, "i take it i woke you up?"

"of course you did, asshole," you hiss. "what, what, what could be so important that you couldn't wait until morning-"

"i wanted to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday."

your breath hitches and you feel your eyes soften, a warmth spreading across your cheeks as you process what he said. your lips curl into a small smile, and you scrub your face with your hand, "you could've been the first even if i only saw your message in the morning. you didn't have to stay up until midnight."

"yeah, but whats the fun in that?" he offers. "and this way, you know i was first. no room for debate."

you giggle and shake your head, letting a comfortable silence linger over the phone.

"happy birthday," he says softly.

"thank you, baby,” you whisper back.

"i'll let you get back to sleep," he hums. "know how much you need your beauty sleep."

"watch it. you disturbed me, remember?"

he snorts. you shake your head fondly, letting your smile not falter thanks to him not being able to see it.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

[wandascosmic]

why can't you see? (8)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part eight of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 3418

tags: best friends to lovers, actual idiots to lovers, they're so cute my little babies, 3/4 of this is just reader being a little shit but she's so real like she's me when im doing work, wanda's so here for it though they're so on the same wavelength it's adorable

taglist: @reginassweetheart @rroyale-109 @marvel-posts

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

Tony suddenly feels the sensation of his jacket being pulled over his head. “Oh!” he grunts, as his eyesight his overshadowed by darkness. 

“What has two thumbs and likes to bone your mom?” Hayward asks in a gross joking tone, pulling the jacket back down. 

Tony turns around slowly, his eyes widening in surprise and happiness once he sees who’s surprised him. “Tyler!” Tony says excitedly before hugging the man. 

“What’s up Tony, how’s it going?” Hayward says cockily. Hayward smirks as he turns to you at your desk. “What’s up, L/N, still queer?” he asks. 

You give him a tight-lipped smile before going back to work, and Wanda watches you with an amused grin. Your absolute lack of ability to hide when you’re annoyed always made her laugh. 

“Man, we have loads of catching up to do,” Tony tells Hayward as he starts to lead him towards his office while the two begin to engage in chatter. 

You roll your eyes aggressively. 

God, you hated Tyler Hayward with a burning passion. 

Standing up from your desk, you grab your jacket ready to head out for lunch. But of course, you need to stop by your favourite receptionist’s desk for the fifth time today. Or maybe sixth. 

“What has two thumbs and hates Tyler Hayward?” you ask her as you walk over. 

 Wanda smiles knowingly. “Me,” you mouth to her, pointing your index finger at yourself.  

“Well,” Wanda says. “I’m always here if you need saving.” 

“Please,” you respond, giving her a knowing look. “Hey, do you want anything from the sandwich shop down the street?” 

“Oh! Yeah, could you get me that ham and cheese one you got me last time?” 

You smile. “Sure,” you say, before heading out the door. 

***

“I’m really excited to meet your mom,” you tell Wanda as you take a bite of your turkey sub. 

“You are?” Wanda asks, unwrapping the sandwich you got her. 

“Mhm,” you nod. “I’ve got many questions to ask her.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Wanda asks curiously with a tilt of her head. 

You grin before assuming a quizzical expression. “Like this.” You shift in your seat slightly to get more into character. “As a child, did Wanda show any traits that would hint towards her future career as a receptionist?” 

Wanda laughs. “I’m not sure she’ll know how to answer that question.”  

***

The door opens quietly, and you smile as you see Iryna Maximoff start to slowly make her way towards her daughter. Wanda doesn’t notice, continuing to type on her computer. 

Suddenly, Wanda feels a tap on her shoulder. 

And turning her head, Wanda’s eyes light up once she sees who’s in front of her. Wanda’s told you how much she loves her mother, many, many times. 

Iryna smiles at her daughter. “Hi,” she says, before Wanda jumps out of her chair to hug her tight. 

“Mama!” Wanda exclaims, squeezing tighter. 

You smile at the heartwarming exchange. 

Deciding to go introduce yourself, you stand up from your chair, ready to go meet the woman who brought the most wonderful human being you’v ever known into this world. 

You faintly hear Wanda begin to tell her mother all the things she’s missed the past few weeks, but your nerves have caught up to you slightly and you desperately want to make a good impression. You brush the dust off your pants slightly, and start to walk over.  

Should you say hi? 

How are you?

Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N? 

Hi Ms. Maximoff, I’ve been in love with your daughter ever since she started working here so could you please like me? 

Nope. Definitely not. 

You groan, deciding to just get it over with. 

Taking a deep breath, you stand at Wanda’s desk with a smile, drumming your fingers on the wood as you prepare for the two Maximoffs to turn around.  

But of course, the universe had other plans. 

You turn your head to the sound of the door creaking open, and your heart drops as you see Vision enter. With fucking flowers. And gel in his hair. And the most obnoxious country club outfit you’ve ever seen. It made your work clothes seem like a potato sack in comparison, and you realize that you can’t meet Wanda’s mother looking like this compared to her fiance. Plus, Vision already hated you and had his suspicions. 

Regaining your composure, you eliminate any suspicion he may have had of you standing at Wanda’s desk by taking a candy from the communal dish at the front and immediately turn around to walk back to your own stupid desk. 

Sitting back down, you frown slightly, but ultimately decide that you should probably get back to the papers that were giving you a headache of boredom. 

All you wanted was to say hi. 

After a couple seconds, you overhear Iryna greet Vision. 

“Oh, there he is,” she says happily. Hey handsome, how are you?” You turn to see her greet him with a hug. 

“I’m pretty good. How are you?” Vision responds, very obviously sucking up as you’ve seen his true personality on a daily basis. “You look great, Iryna.” 

“Thank you very much,” Iryna responds with a smile. “So, are we ready for dinner?” 

“Oh,” You hear Wanda express, a bit forlorn. “Well, you know, actually I kind of need to stall a bit, since Tony’s gonna have a small meeting at the end of the day,” she says guiltily. “But, it’s okay since I’m very used to killing time.” Wanda chuckles a bit. 

“Oh, no worries,” Iryna tells her. “We’ll just wait a bit.” 

“For sure,” Vision agrees. “I’ll go wait in the parking lot.” Turning to Iryna, he asks, “and, uh, what kind of tunes do you want for the ride? Country? Oldies?”

“Oh, anything is fine,” Iryna replies kindly. 

“All right, well, see you soon!” Vision says before leaving the office. 

And the second the door closes, you finally hear something that makes you smile.

“So which one is Y/N?” Iryna asks her daughter cheekily. 

“Mama!” Wanda replies with a blush. 

***

It’s the next day, and you’ve never been as bored as you feel now. 

Actually, you’ve been on a boredom streak lately. 

But today is the absolute worst of all. 

After Vision had left, you had finally gotten the opportunity to properly greet Iryna before she left to join Vision in the parking lot, and Wanda had really seemed to enjoy the entire exchange. 

But now, it’s the next day, and you want to absolutely murder the papers in front of you. Depsite your hatred for Tyler Hayward, him showing up yesterday made your day somewhat different from the rest. 

Groaning loudly, you plop your forehead onto your desk and dread the day before you. 

Wanda, of course, is entertained by your shenanigans and snickers as she watches you. 

It was official.

You had died of boredom. 

(An occurence that happens once every sixth months. Seven if Tony’s being extra insane.) 

And your guys’ deal was that it was Wanda’s job to revive you. 

***

“You see Sam’s coffee mug?” Wanda asks as you stand in front of her at her desk.

“Mhm,” you say, turning to look at the mug along with her. 

Wanda leans slightly closer. “Sometimes when he’s not here, I try to throw stuff in it,” she whispers to you. 

“No way,” you laugh. 

Wanda nods at you with a sly grin, handing you a yellow piece of paper for you to crumple up into a ball. 

“We should play paper basketball one day with his mug,” you tell her as you crumple the paper absentmindedly. 

“No way,” Wanda shakes her head. “I’ve seen you play basketball.” 

“What if I get you chicken paprikash and your favorite candies?” 

“Deal.” Wanda says instantly. “Now throw, I can’t wait for Sam to drink it accidentally.” 

‘Wow, I can’t believe I’ve never seen this side of you Maximoff. You might be a bigger prankster than I am.” 

“You’re teasing me. I can tell,” Wanda narrows her eyes at you. “Throw the paper!” 

You laugh before throwing it as instructed. “Damn it,” you say when it misses. 

“I’m the only one who can keep up with your pranks, L/N. Plus, it’s fun doing them with you,” Wanda answers as she rummages through her drawers for something else for you to throw, unknowing of the fact that she just made your heart skip a beat. “Here, try paper clips.” 

You take a silver clip from the small box Wanda has just placed on the ledge of her desk, about to throw, before her voice stops you. 

“Oh wait,” she reaches to her side and grabs another paper, reading it over slightly. “This message, for Sam.” 

“Smart, Maximoff,” you say, causing Wanda to smile at you. 

Crumpling the paper, you throw it as best you can, but end up missing once more as it lands in Sam’s chair instead. 

“You know, I might actually beat you whenever we play that coffee mug basketball game.” 

***

“Hey, Steve,” you say, walking up to the man with a few sheets of paper in your hand. “Um, these new expense reports, do we really have to go back to last quarter?” 

“Yeah, It’s a terrible system, I know,” Steve sympathises with you. 

Suddenly, a board buried underneath the contents of Steve’s desk catches your eye. “Hey, what does 2005 season mean?” you ask. 

“Uh, that’s–” 

“No way,” you say as you pull the board out entirely. “Is this a scoreboard?” You ask, noticing the assortment of numbers written into various white boxes. 

“Yes, it is,” Steve acknowledges. 

“That’s so cool,” you say. “What’s it for?” 

Steve sighs. “Sometimes, when Tony’s out, Bucky and I play this paper football game he got me started on.”

“Or when we’re bored,” Bucky adds from his desk next to Steve. 

Inspecting the board a bit further, you see the hundreds of scores written on it. “Wait, this goes back two years! Oh my god,” you exclaim excitedly. 

“We’re bored a lot,” Bucky says, already folding a piece of paper into a small triangle. 

Steve turns to you. “Wanna try?” 

You nod with a grin. 

*** “Oh!” you exclaim as you flick the paper triangle to Bucky’s desk, making another shot. “Yes!” You high-five Steve who stands next to you. 

“Fun, right?” he says. 

“For sure, I really love the uh, paper triangle flicking and hitting things game.” You imitate the motion with your fingers.” It’s awesome.” 

“We call it Hateball,” Bucky tells you with a whisper. 

“Why?” you ask curiously. 

“Because of how much Nat hates it,” Steve says, nodding over to Nat who’s deep in her work on her computer. 

You look over at Nat, and you notice the hint of a smile on her face. 

“I don’t hate it,” she mouthes at you through the screen separating the desks once Bucky and Steve look away. 

You smile before turning back to Bucky and Steve. “Hey, do you guys have any other games?” 

Bucky inches forward towards you slightly. “Ask Bruce to teach you Shield ball, trust me.” 

***

“So, that’s what this sound is all day,” you exclaim with a smile as the ball hits the ceiling before passing between you and Bruce. 

“Fun, isn’t it?” Bruce replies back. 

“It’s awesome!” 

*** After exhausting the two new games you had discovered today as much as possible, you decided it was best to let your co-workers get back to work. 

Unfortunately, you had only blown off your work for about two hours, and needed to find a way to blow off the other five hours of the day. 

So, you created your own games. 

Something you liked to call ‘the Office Olympics.’ and you were surprisingly proud of what you could come up with. 

Wanda, like the incredible, wonderful, and kind person she was, had agreed to help you in creating your new project, and had ended up making beautiful medals out of paperclips and old yogurt lids. They looked surprisingly professional, which I guess shuoldn’t surprise you since it was Wanda.

You, and the majority of the office staff stand in the kitchen, with Wanda putting up a poster that says, ‘Games of the 1st Shield Industry Olympiad.’ 

Humming the Olympic Anthem, you hold a candle in your hand which you had found stashed away in your desk, a lighter in the other. “This scented candle,” you start with a smile. “Which I found at the bottom of my desk drawer,” you turn on the lighter and light the candle. “Represents the eternal….” you shake your head. “Burning of competition, or something.” 

“It smells like cookies,” Bruce says. 

“Yes, it does,” you look at him seriously. “Yes, it does, my friend.” 

“Okay, so, we’ll be competing for gold, silver, and bronze yogurt lids,” you say, holding up the medals by their paper clip chain. “Made specially by Wanda.” 

Wanda grins at you. 

“Let the games begin!” You lead the office staff out the kitchen with your candle above your head, all of you humming the Olympic anthem together. 

***

“Alright, so, here, what you have is the national sport of Icelandic paper companies,” you explain as you point to the paper boxes that have yellow rubber bands holding the lid and the vessel together at the top and bottom of their horizontal sides. “And, I’m blanking on the name, could you help me out, Wanda?” you turn to the brunette who stands next to you. 

“Y/N, they refer to it, as,” Wanda pauses. “Flonkerton.” 

You hum. 

“In English, ‘Box of Paper Snowshoe Racing’.” 

“Fair enough,” you say. “But, I like Flonkerton.” 

Wanda smiles. 

“So,” you continue. “Who will be challenging Bruce in Flonkerton?” 

“I’ll do it,” Jennifer says. 

“Yes, Jennifer! Cousins taking on cousins,” you exclaim. 

Both Jennifer and Bruce walk over to the boxes, Wanda helping Bruce with his footing while you help Jennifer. 

“So, if you could put your foot right through here,” you lift up the yellow band for her to slip her foot through. “Right through the flonk.” 

Once both Bruce and Jennifer were ready, the rest of the staff helped you put up the finish line at the end of the room, which was made of transparent tape. 

“Alright, are you guys ready?” you ask, receiving a nod from both parties. 

“Ready, set, go!” 

And the office erupts in cheers as Bruce and Jennifer try to make it to the other side of the room with the boxes on their feet. 

“Whoo! Go, go, go!” you exclaim, clapping your hands together. 

“Dig deep!” Steve yells. “Dig deep!” 

Soon, the two near the finish line, and you prepare to catch one of them in case they fall. 

“Oh, they’re neck and neck!” Bucky exclaims. 

“Come on!” Nat says. 

“Oh!” the staff exclaims all at once, as the two finally reach the finish line, Jennifer winning by the slightest edge. 

“Jennifer by a nose!” you announce. “Gold medal, in Flurnenton.” 

“Flonkerton,” Wanda corrects. 

“Thank you, delegate from Iceland,” you say teasingly. 

***

“Nat, are you sure you don’t want to join in on any games?” Wanda asks Nat as she stands next to her by the water dispenser. 

“I’m good with watching, thanks,” Nat chuckles, taking the last sip of her water. 

“Come on, don’t you have any games you enjoy?” 

“Well, there is one,” Nat says, throwing her cup out. 

“No way, what is it?” Wanda asks excitedly. 

“I call it Wanda-pong.” 

Wanda stares confused. “What?” she asks with a small laugh.

“Mhm,” Nat nods. “I count how many times Y/N gets up from her desk and goes to reception to talk to you.” 

Wanda pulls her head back in slight shock. “We’re friends.” 

“If you say so,” Nat says with a wink before heading off. 

***

“Peter! Gold medal,” you announce as the intern had correctly guessed who would be next to come up in the elevator. “Let’s move to our next destination, everyone.” 

“Oh, Y/N!” Wanda runs up to you and joins you at your side with a large box in her arms. 

“What’s up, Maximoff?” you ask with a laugh. 

“I made something for our closing ceremonies,” she says with a huge grin. 

“What?” you say with a smile, and Wanda opens up the box to show you. “Oh, my god,” you exclaim. “This is incredible!” 

Wanda smiles as she looks up at you. 

“When’d you have time to make it?” 

“Automatic voicemail,” Wanda responds cheekily.   

“”All right, Maximoff, all right,” you say, lifting up your hand and giving her a well-deserved high five. 

***

It was the absolute worst time for Tony to walk in with Sam. 

You were in the middle of the coffee race, seeing who could get a full mug of coffee from the coffee machine to Steve’s desk in the least amount of time. 

However, the two walked in halfway through the race, catching you all in your tracks. 

Now, you were back at your desk, filling out the stupid expense reports that had caused your death of boredom earlier this morning. But, in five minutes time you had gotten them done, and you had also closed two sales before the day was over. 

Truthfully, it was about as productive as any other day. If not, more so. 

“All done,” you tell Steve as you hand him the reports. 

“Great,” Steve responds before you walk off. 

You contemplate sitting down at your desk, and doing whatever you could find to do to entertain yourself, however, staring at the medal hung over your desk lamp, you think you have a better idea. 

“Hey,” you say to Wanda as you greet her at her desk. 

“I have 59 voicemails,” she responds with the phone to her shoulder. 

“Great,” you respond. “Actually, can you ignore those and do something for me instead?” 

Wanda stares at you for a moment before her face breaks out into a grin. “Sure.” She places the phone back into its holder. 

“Pefect,” you respond back. “So, today, 5 o’clock, closing ceremonies,” you tell her with a small smile. 

“Wait, really?” You nod. “Notify the athletes.” 

“Will do,” Wanda says as she gets up from her seat. 

***

Knocking on Tony’s door, you slowly enter his office, seeing him hunched over. 

“Tony?” 

“Y/N! Y/N, what’s going on?” he responds.

“Nothing, I just wanted to congratulate you on your condo.” 

Tony furrows his brows. “How did you find out about that?” 

Of course, the answer was Sam. And he had notified you all to be wary of Tony since the purchase was less than savory. 

“Sam,” you nod your head in the direction of his desk. 

“Of course,” Tony mutters. “But, thanks anyways.” 

“No problem. Hey, would you mind coming out here for a sec? I’ve got something for you.” 

“Really?” Tony asks, standing up from his chair. 

Slowly leading him out, you smile at the arranged closing ceremony Wanda had put together, a wonderful stage of first, second, and third place, along with a few surprises she had only told you about.  

“What’s this?” Tony asks. 

“These are the closing ceremonies,” you tell him. “Step up.” You lead him to the top stage, and pull out one of Wanda’s medals from your pocket. “Congratulations to Tony, because he closed on his condo. So, gold medal.” You place the item around his neck. 

“I’m not sure what to say,” Tony says. “But, thank you all, for this, I’m very grateful.” 

You smile. 

“And for, Sam Wilson,” you continue as Bruce leads Sam to the second highest stage. “The silver medal.” You place the award around his neck.

“And finally, for Jennifer Walters, the bronze medal.” You lead Jennifer to the final stage, as she had won most of the games of the Office Olympics. 

You nod at Wanda, and she pushes the play button on the speaker, the Star-Spangled banner beginning to play. 

All of you placing your hands on your heart, you begin to grin. 

“Why are you playing the National Anthem?” Tony whispers to you. 

“Um, because your condo’s in America.” you respond. 

“Fair enough,” Tony says. 

“Ready?” Wanda asks you, and you nod. 

Wanda starts to pull the string linked to the pieces of paper she had folded earlier, giving you a grin. 

“What is that?” Tony asks. 

“Those are the doves,” you answer. 

Wanda glances at you with a small smile, and you give her one in return. 

She did, in fact revive you from your boredom.

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ² | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 4.5k

mini-series: california | oregon (you’re here) | idaho | wyoming

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: angry!r, slow-burn romance, eventual smut, proximity trope, both reader and ellie on a path of redemption, afab body parts mentioned, vulgar language, reader being complicated, mentions of attraction, inner guilt, use of ‘y/n’ and ‘woman’.

note: honestly i just can’t wait for them to kiss (spoiler: not this chapter). but they’re learning to trust each other. just know in the idaho ch we’re gonna be UP! please, enjoy this for now!! (also: i hope the lot of you voted for the presidential election. these are very very important times #harriswaltz2024)

Oregon

Several days and nights were spent on a boat, cruising up the coast of California. It was one of those livable boats, where you could hide from the sun in a room with stable furniture to eat on, and a bed to sleep on. You spent a lot of your time inside the hatch, analyzing a map that Ellie had labeled with a marker. Hoping that you’d maintain your luck enough to actually see Wyoming for yourself.

Ellie had confessed that she came from Jackson, but she still hadn’t told you the why. Instead of asking about it, you refrained, in turn, asking about the settlement. Were the people kind? Did they have horses? Because you heard they had horses.

Those were the questions she could answer easily, with little to no hesitation. Until your questioning began to irritate her—which, in turn, irritated you.

The two of you bickered over the smallest of things in those days on the water. It could’ve been the heat, or the rationed food, or even your similar personalities. You couldn’t help but clash every chance you got. By the time the two of you drifted onto the coastline of Oregon, the conversations had diminished—because of your stubborn attitudes.

Leaving behind the boat was a drag, but there’s wasn’t much of a choice. The rest of the journey toward Wyoming was going to be on foot. Over cracked pavements and between dewey trees. If only the trip could be simplified by the use of a boat—it would be less extraneous.

The weather had gotten significantly cooler the more north you traveled. The mornings were the coolest, and the days were chilled with a gentle breeze. It would rain eighty percent of the time, which made it harder for you and Ellie to continue the trek. But both of you were resilient.

Somewhere between Salem and Portland, you found yourselves looking for a place to stay for the night. You had run across some nefarious people when you first arrived at the coast; and you’ve been recovering ever since. Trying to collect as many things as possible on the road to make up for the lost ammo and supplies. Which is what led to you looking for a place to crash in, basically, pitch black darkness. Navigating the dewey wood with nothing but the lights attached to your bags.

Droplets of water slipped off the waxy green leaves of the trees above. Splashing onto you—and it was shocking every time. The climate sent a gentle chill up your spine, so the water was even colder. Ellie walked ahead of you, mumbling under her breath from the lack of shelter. Her agitation was ruminating off her skin like a furnace. “We should’ve never gone this way— there’s nothing out here!”

Her agitation was obviously laced with panic. Ellie was exhausted from all the traveling and worries about conflict. “We entered a campsite a few miles back. At the very least there should be a cabin out here.” You surmised, squinting your eyes trying to defy the darkness. The auburn-haired woman scoffed under her breath, adjusting the hood of her raincoat. “If you wanna take a break, just say that.” You reached for her wrist, pulling gently. “It’s been a long day…”

“Absolutely not. We need a place to sleep tonight— with a roof.” Ellie pulled her arm away, placing her hands onto her hips. Her head hung low, clearly fatigued.

“How about this: you park it by this tree for a little bit, while I walk around to see if I can find somethin’ for us.” You offer, shrugging your shoulders, casually. The both of you were exhausted, but it seemed that Ellie was suffering a bit more than you were. Was that not that point of a team? To tap in someone else when you need it. Plus, you really felt that there was a cabin nearby. There had to be one. Most campsites had cabins that hikers and campers would go to before they began their adventures. For supplies or even important notices about wild animals.

Or, maybe, you watched too much tv at the firefly base.

She shook her head. “No chance. Separating in the dark doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. What? So, you can get lost and give us another problem to deal with?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you press your lips into an irritated line. “Are you seriously insulting my intelligence, right now?” You raised an eyebrow, glaring at the woman in front of you. “I was a firefly for six years of my life—“

“Oh, my God! The whole world knows that you were a fucking firefly, y/n. No need for the reminder.”

Ellie began to walk in another direction, sternly. You scoffed, following after her like confused duckling—which was an embarrassing thought. “You’re so insufferable. All I was trying to do was help you out— because to be honest, you’re not handling this well.” You quip, walking by her side with your hands shoved into your pockets.

She scoffed. “How could I handle this well? Please, tell me.” Stopping in her tracks, she glares at you. Olive irises blown out from the darkness around her, boring into your aggressive frame.

Taking a step closer to her, the corners of your lips curled, mischievously. “You could start by taking a fucking break and letting me take the lead.” There was something that differed between you and Ellie’s versions of frustration and anger. She took it up a level, while you brought it down. It could fool an idiot into thinking you weren’t mad at all, when really you were fuming. The pace of your voice was slow, almost menacing. True fire remained behind your eyes, in your posture—the way your lip twitched as you spoke.

“I’m not some damsel in distress you pull everywhere then blame when shit goes wrong.” You added, taking in her battered features. The scar in her eyebrow and her top lip. The freckles under her peeling skin from the days aboard. “I have a great sense of direction; I’ll have you know.” As you spoke, she examined your features the same way you did. “Stop arguing with me, sit your ass down, drink some water— and i’ll be back in twenty minutes tops!”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth, averting her eyes from you. She was too stubborn to admit her own exhaustion to you—she’d rather be in control of the situation than someone she barely knew. Someone, who at the start of this trip, was, in fact, a damsel in distress. Your body had healed in the days since departing Santa Barbara. Not completely, but in progress. You were walking better, even though you still had a bit of a limp.

Her focus on you made it easy to forget her own ailments. The missing fingers on her left hand, the wound on her abdomen. They were healing, surprisingly. However, her attention still remained on your well-being.

She sighed, itching her nose with her index finger. “Fine. Whatever.” Ellie shrugged her backpack off, leaning against the tree. “Just come back in one piece, yeah?” Somehow, she managed to sound insulting with her hidden words of weariness.

You snickered, narrowing your eyes. “Is that worry I’m sensing or…?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

With that, you backed toward the path, chuckling under your breath. Adjusting the hood over your head, you focused to begin looking for the cabin that you just knew was close by. Feet crunching over dead leaves and sticks that were imbedded in the mud.

The light attached to the strap of your bag began to flicker as you pushed between the trees. “Come on…” You hit the light to stabilize it. “Now is not the time.”

When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light.

Your past affiliations haunted you like a ghost. Somehow, you always found yourself looking for that light. Perhaps, in this case, it’s Jackson, Wyoming—a place far from what you know. That was more of a long-term goal, though. The light you were currently looking for was a building made of wood, preferably insulated.

Ahead of you, you weren’t sure if you were seeing things, but what you were hoping for was coming into view. The brightness of the moon illuminating the starry sky outlined the top of the cabin, exposing its silhouette. In excitement, you rushed toward the building, peaking through the foggy windows. From what you could see, there was nothing inside but old furniture. Thankfully, no infected. You were beat; the last thing you wanted to do was fight that damn virus.

As you peeked through every window you could find, jiggling door handles to try and find a way in, you realized it was a home. Not some hiking administration building you surmised would be around the trail. Spending enough time circling the cabin, you pick up a rock from the ground to crack a window. You were getting in that house one way or another.

The rectangular shape was rather high for your reach. Huffing, you dug your fingers into the divots of the logs. It wasn’t the best grip, but it was enough to get you into that window. After throwing your body through the hole, you landed on the ground with a thud. A shallow pain throbbed in your thigh—the one that Ellie had stitched for you back in Santa Barbara. Shutting your eyes, you took in a breath from the slight pain. You weren’t one hundred percent just yet.

Exhaling, you stood tall on your feet to get a look at the interior. A long plaid couch was placed in front of what used to be a fireplace. Burned logs was still lying in the pit, but they burned to a crisp. You were certain that if you touched them, they would fall apart under the weight of your hand. The dirt shapes on the walls symbolized that picture use to fill this space—the cabin was drained of life.

It’s only source of existence was the fact that you were standing in it.

Before leaving to retrieve Ellie, you jogged up the steep stairs of the cabin. To check the upstairs rooms for any infected or people. You must’ve been one lucky woman, because there was nothing but dust occupying those rooms. Quickly, you went through the front door to grab your partner.

Crunching on leaves and sticks, you startled her. Ellie was spotted sat in front of the tree, leaning her back with her eyes closed—which was the least smart thing to do, but she was tired. The sound of your boots crushing the elements of the forest jolted her from her light sleep. She gripped her switchblade in a fist, looking at you with determination. “Fuck,” She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. “I thought you were someone else…”

“Nope. Just me.” You breathed, watching her as she stood to her feet. “There’s a cabin about ten minutes from this spot.” Crossing your arms, a slight smile rested on your lips. A smile screaming I-told-you-so.

Ellie slung her bag around her shoulders, dusting off her jeans; doing everything to ignore your antics. “Are we just gonna stand here, or are you gonna show me where it’s at?”

Sucking your teeth, you pivoted, rolling your eyes. She was such a sore loser. It felt good to be right, and for her to be wrong. You didn’t get lost like she thought—instead, you carried out exactly what you planned: finding shelter for the night.

The two of you approached the cabin, Ellie releasing a sigh of relief. Hallow sounds of your shoes walking up the steps of the wooden porch sounded. You opened the door, allowing her to walk through. Staring her down with same smile you had a few minutes ago. “Nice place, huh?” You asked, shutting the door behind you, turning the lock.

She meandered inside, surveying the interior. Her fingers slide along the dusty bannister above the fireplace, pursing her lips. “Not bad…” Ellie lifted an eyebrow, peering over her shoulder at you. Lifting her finger, she eyed the dust that stuck to her skin.

“Told you there was a cabin around here somewhere.”

“I knew you were gonna say that.” Ellie chuckled, dryly. Taking moderate steps toward the kitchen. Every time you stopped, she insisted that inventory was taken of all of your supplies. She achingly tugged her backpack off, sighing. You followed behind her, leaning your arms against the counter—watching her tired movements.

“Why are you looking at me?” She dropped her hands onto the counter, with that familiar irritated glint in her eyes.

You purse your lips. “You know I could do this, right?” Shrugging off your bag, you swing it onto the counter. There was a slight sway to Ellie—the only reason being her exhaustion. “We’ve done this a number of times; you can go rest up. There are three bedrooms upstairs— take your pick.”

Ellie scoffed, continuing the work in front of her. Counting under her breath. You grit your jaw, glaring at her. She was truly insufferable—moments like these really highlighted that. Her stubbornness and pride amounted about the same to yours; causing you to wonder… Were you just as bad? You pity the friends you had in your youth if that was the case. Releasing a meditative breath, you placed a hand over hers. “Seriously, Ellie, I got it. Go get some sleep.”

She looks at you through her eyelashes, allowing your skin to remain on hers. “Aren’t you tired, too?”

“Yeah, but not as much as you… I could stand to be up for a little while longer. You on the other hand…”

She pulled her hand from under yours, pushing off her wet hood. Her auburn strands were damp, sticking to her freckled skin. “All right. Make sure to write down the things we don’t have that we need.”

“I know.”

“And mark the items that we’re running low on.”

“Again, I know.” You motion with her hand to run along with amused eyes. Waiting to begin, you watch as she hesitantly walks toward the steep wooden stairs around the corner.

It was like pulling teeth for Ellie to willingly hand over responsibility to you. In her mind, she was still doing you a favor—she was working for you. But being that she was extremely tired, her inhibitions loosened. The touch of your skin to hers, surprisingly, comforted her concerns; made her sleepier. She heavily stepped up the stairs, leaning on the railing for support.

She walked into the first bedroom she saw. The light from the moon cascaded through the window that the queen-sized bed was pushed against. Shedding her damp clothing, she spread them out onto a dresser before getting into the bed. Before nodding off, she peered out the window with a burdened mind. Remembering the bulk of her actions leading up to Santa Barbara. With the added misfortune of Santa Barbara. Then… You.

The moon reflected over a sparkling pier, that was down a hill behind the cabin. The lake was completely in her view, rippling subtly from the fish beneath the surface. She cracked a smile, peering at the beautiful sight. Rolling up a pillow, she propped it up enough to let that be the final thing she sees before sleeping. Using the elements of the earth as a night cap.

She’d woken up many times throughout the night, but she was used to that habit. When the sun peaked through her window, Ellie had gotten as much sleep as she could have. The smell of cooked fish had wafted into her nostrils, pulling her from the old mattress. With a groan, she swung her legs over, rubbing her eyes.

In a blur, from the corner of her eyes, she saw a figure walking toward the pier. Blinking, she leaned on the pillows against the window, watching as the figure began to remove their clothes—it was you. Ellie watched as you dropped your items, carelessly, before jumping into the water. For the first time in awhile, her mind went blank. Completely empty.

Well… Not that empty.

She checked the clothes she had on from the night before, and for some reason, they still were damp. Enough moisture resided in her jeans that she didn’t feel comfortable putting them back on. Sighing, she began searching through the drawers for anything she could put on in the meantime.

Finding a pair of plaid pajama pants, she slid those on, throwing her holed band t-shirt over her sports bra. “What time is it?” She patted her jeans for the watch she carried with her. Cursing under her breath, she realized it was left in her backpack.

Quickly, Ellie found herself navigating to the first floor. Her eyes widened at the organized sight of all of your supplies. You had grouped similar items together and left a piece of paper with the amounts in each group. At the bottom of the page, you had written a list of the items you needed more of. Ellie’s watch was sitting on the end of the counter, properly placed. “You have outdone yourself…” She muttered, picking up the paper you scribbled on.

When she flipped it over, the subtle grin her lips faded. Seeing the sorrowful words written on the page. Since leaving Santa Barbara, she noticed you pulling out this letter a lot. The one you fetched from under that infected woman. You had never gone into what this letter or note meant to you—probably, because she never asked. That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about it, though. Ellie never would’ve expected that you’d write on it over something as silly as taking inventory.

There were so many things she didn’t understand about you.

The aroma of fish filled her nostrils again, leading her to slab of rock placed on the counter. A coverage of cloth was placed over the fish to ward off flies. She peeked under it, seeing a perfectly scaled and grilled fish. Hunger got the best of her, and she began to eat the fish with her hands. Humming at the satisfaction of filling her stomach.

After, she grabbed the cracked watch to check the time. It was ten in the morning, the both of you should’ve been back on the road.

Pressing her lips into a line, she walked out the back door to alert you. Her fingers fiddling with the plaid cotton on her legs.

The air was fairly cool, but the sun warmed you up. Basking in the lake was like splashing your face with cold water in the morning—it was a wake-up call. Something that you needed after the night you had. In the room across from Ellie’s, the bed was too firm, and the sheets were too prickly. Your mind kept you up with the image of Honey’s infected body. And, whenever you did shut your eyes, you were back on those pillars again.

You had no choice but to get up early and occupy yourself. So, you fished for a little while, then cooked what you caught—for yourself and the sleeping woman upstairs. After that, you thought you could use a bath. And there was nothing more satisfying than cool lake water—nature’s finest.

You allowed the water to engulf you, embracing your body like a chilled hug. Breaking the surface, you swam comfortable laps around the lake. As you lazily backstroked, you noticed Ellie walking down the steps that led to the dock.

Her auburn hair was spiked all across her head—she must’ve slept well. You chuckled, swimming up the edge of the dock. Placing your hands against it, to pull yourself up a little. Bare shoulders glistening from the sunlight reflecting off your wet skin. “You have a bad case of bedhead, my friend.”

“What?” She immediately became self-conscious, running her hands through her hair. Shaking her head, she adjusted her features, trying to uphold her naturally irritated persona; scrunching her eyebrows and clenching her jaw. “You let me sleep too late; it’s ten. We should start packing up.” Her eyes avoided you, instead, focusing on the plants surrounding the lake. Or your pruned fingers holding onto the dock.

Looking up at her with squinted eyes, you dramatically sniffed. “Why don’t you hop in? You smell like shit.” You ignored her small jabs of blame, coating your lips with a smile. Perhaps, you’ve been spending too much time with her, but her little irritations were beginning to amuse you more than bother you. Or, from the angle that you were peering up at her, she looked really… Pretty. Bedhead and all.

“Excuse me?” She questioned, raising her eyebrows, finally meeting your eyes.

“I’m serious. Let’s resume the trip smelling better than a sewer.” You began to paddle backwards, almost forgetting about your own nakedness. “Take off your clothes… I‘ll give you privacy. Unless you’re too… Chicken.”

She hesitated, watching you swim backwards. Catching an accidental glimpse of your breasts as you turned around. It was true that she didn’t smell the greatest. Before she could formulate her thoughts properly, Ellie spoke. “Chicken? Really, y/n?” She sighed, punching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. But not for long— I wanna make it to Idaho within the next two days…”

Ellie shed her clothes, dropping them close to yours. She jumped into the water, keeping her head from going under, loudly reacting to the coldness of the lake. “Shit!” She exclaimed, treading water.

You turned around, chuckling, noticing her hair still disheveled. “You’ll feel better if you dunk yourself under water.”

“Hell, no! It’s too cold.”

“This doesn’t have to be another I-told-you-so moment…”

She rolled her eyes, clenching her nostrils with her fingers, lowering herself under water. Allowing the cold, earthy, lake water to encapsulate her. The first few seconds were chilling, but her body began to adapt. It became rather comforting—easing her sore muscles and healing wounds.

The lake did the same for you, which was why you were still inside of it. Time stopped at the pier; at least it felt like it did. Existing felt normal, for once. There weren’t any violent rogue people, or hungry infected. Just you and Ellie bathing in a lake.

Ellie broke the surface, running her hands over her saturated strands. Her pale skin was flushed, from what you could only assume, was the briskness in the air and the chillness of water. However, that may not have completely been the case. “Feel better?” You ask, waving your arms under the water to keep yourself afloat.

The corners of her lips curled, subtly. You had to squint to really notice her amusement. She rolled her eyes in a way to avert her gaze. “Yeah, a little.” Ellie finally peered at you, pointing a dripping finger. “Don’t say it.”

“Say what?” A grin plastered on your lips. “I told you so?”

“Do you realize how annoying you are, or just me?”

You pursed your lips, feigning thought. “Just you, I think.”

Honestly, you’re proud of yourself. A lot of the relationship blossoming between your traveling partner and yourself had been developing under the pressure of your attitudes and circumstances. The fact that you could get her to crack a smile, even if it was faint, felt good. It was either the dock’s magic, or your own.

A beat passed while the two of you circled each other. Barely looking at the exposed skin above the water, trying to be distracted by the world around you.

Surprisingly, Ellie was the first to speak—or the first to question you. She rarely every asked you anything. “That letter you carry with you…” The woman awkwardly began. “I saw it on the counter— who wrote it?”

Her voice grabbed your attention immediately at the mention of the note. You held onto it like a totem, a piece of memorabilia from your past. Hesitating, you moved your eyes from left to right in thought. “I know that it came from Santa Barbara. From that house…”

“It’s from an old friend.” You started, lips parting slowly as you spoke. Mouth going dry at the question she asked. You’ve yet to physically get the chance to talk about Honey. From the days aboard the boat, you’ve been trying to forget what you saw. Maybe, you could convince yourself that she was off living the life she wanted—instead of spending her last days suffering under the hammer of infection. “Some girl I met at that God-forsaken resort…” You attempted to casually respond.

“She got infected?”

“Yeah…” You nodded with avoidance, shutting your eyes and moving your head with a cadence of I-don’t-wanna-talk-about-it.

Ellie pursed her lips, nodding. “Why’d you write on the letter? I don’t know… It looks like it means a lot to you— I don’t understand why you would write on it?” She spoke, thoughtfully, as if she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. That was certainly the first time.

You shrug, wanting to hide somewhere, even though there was nowhere to do so. “I just want to forget about it… I guess.”

“If you cared about her, why would you wanna forget about it?”

The muscles in your forehead twitched, bunching your eyebrows together. Your face burned, lips scowling. Ellie’s voice evolved from a soft curiosity, to a judgmental version of it. You sensed the difference the moment it fell from her lips. The intention of her words didn’t matter—it was what she said that bothered you. Did she think you were cruel for wanting to forget about seeing her in that state?

“If I cared about her?” You started, evenly, but with warning. “I did care about her— I do care about her! If I choose not to remember her as a fucking corpse, that makes me a bad person?” Your voice raised, for the first time in awhile, rasping.

Ellie sighed, shaking her head with pleading eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

You scoff, swimming toward the dock. “Well, I’m sure that’s what you meant, right?” Pulling yourself out of the water, you don’t think twice about the exposing of your naked body. Cold air pricking at your wet skin. “I’m the asshole for wanting to remember Honey alive rather than dead…” You wrapped the towel you brought with you around your body, balling your clothes into your arms.

Lamely, Ellie called for you from her place in the water as you left her behind. Before you covered up, she eyed the scars and bruises on your body—maps of what your vessel has been through. Perhaps, she should have entered the conversation with more caution.

Watching you stalk back into the cabin, wiping at your eyes felt like a punishment. A worse punishment than the fact that she didn’t have a towel to dry off with.

“Nice work, Ellie.”

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER EIGHT

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @h34rtsformilli @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings substance use, infidelity, sexual content

kalena speakss 🪽! good morningggg ;) song for this chapter is BPW by jasmine sullivan, you’ll know when to play it!

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California

The lights are low in the studio this evening, as per usual whenever I’m here. I’m not the type to have multiple people in my space, usually it’s just me, Kaylee, and my producer. But tonight I get to be wonderfully distracted by Page Madison Bueckers.

Her phone is propped up on a bottle of Patron, some audio playing from it as she makes a TikTok in front of me. I’m fighting a laugh in the midst of rolling a blunt, because everything they say about her lack of rhythm seems to be true.

“Oh you’re annoying.” She laughs, picking up on my obvious amusement and mushing my face with her fingers.

“Hips don’t lie.” I giggle. “C’mon, no way you thought I wasn’t gon’ make fun of you.”

“You a bully. Ion know why I’m friends with you.”

“Because I’m just so pretty.” I reply jokingly.

Paige rolls her eyes at my statement, retaking her original seat in the rolling chair next to mine and shoving her phone in the pocket of her black Essentials sweatshorts.

If there’s any color I love on Paige, it’s definitely black. The darkness perfectly accentuates the tan of her skin and the bright blond of her hair and the blue of her eyes. She’s been wearing it more lately. Which I find odd, considering the blazing heat in California this summer.

I asked her to be here. No other reason than being alone in the studio is usually a recipe for disaster. She took up my offer gratefully, almost too grateful but I was probably overthinking it.

“You gonna let me hear some unreleased shit, or what?” Paige asked. Her chair slides closer to mine until our arms are touching. Our noses are close too, my eyes boring into hers. Purple rimmed wide framed glasses sit on her nose, making them look bigger.

I look away quickly, leaning towards the monitor in front of me. “I can, yeah.” I tell her, setting the blunt on the rolling tray. “If you leak it tho’ I’d have to kill you.” I joke as my eyes pass through all the possible unreleased and unfinished songs on the file.

I watch her take the substance into her own hands, packing and rolling it in places I didn’t get to reach yet. I would normally be pissed off, watching someone else roll my blunt as if I couldn’t do it myself. But the way her tongue darts out to lick it sealed, pretty and pink and soft, then her perfect fucking face has me mesmerized.

“Who taught you how to roll?” I laugh, honestly a bit shocked.

“I was in college for five years, you think I didn’t learn?” Paige looks back at me, fingers still sealing it like a second nature.

“You probably shouldn’t tell people you were in school for that long.” I snide and her elbow meets my ribs.

I take it from her hands gracefully when she finishes, putting it between my slightly chapped lips. Paige takes the lighter, striking the flame a few times until it lights and bringing the flame to the end of the blunt. Her blues are basically eating up my soul, the tip of her tongue peaking out slightly in concentration until I take the first hit.

The weed fills my lungs fast, and I take the blunt away from my lips, smoke clouding the air. Paige was still in season, and due to her recent shooting outbursts, subject to multiple rounds of drug testing. She wasn’t smoking with me tonight, rather taking a few shots from the liquor not too far away.

I laugh at the thought, “they really been testing you?”

She nods, the light falling from her hands and back onto the desk. She’s so close, I can smell every note of her cologne. Lavender, some cedarwood.

“Literally this morning. As soon as I stepped off the court last night I got an email saying I got an appointment in the morning.” She chuckled.

To say Paige had been on a tear this month would be an understatement. 20 point games, double-doubles, off of crazy efficiency too. She’s shooting 57% from the field and 42% from three, but last night she shot almost perfect, literally, 10/10 on her first shots 13/15 on the game.

For someone who claimed to not be a big basketball fan, she has me watching and remembering her stats like i’ve been doing it for years.

“Okay, music.” She starts. “If you had to make a collab album with one artist, who would it be?”

I sit back and bit for her question, but the answer really wasn’t too difficult. “Frank Ocean, easily.”

“Really? I thought you’d say Drake or sum.” She chuckles.

“Him too!” I responded. “But Frank doesn’t make music with just anybody. If I get that, I’ll know I made.” I shrug. It’s a dream that’s a bit out of touch, he hasn’t put out music in years, but one can wish.

“Imma manifest that Frank feature for you, angel.” She smiles. Her hand reaches to brush my hair out of my line of sight before gesturing with it towards the monitor, “which one can I hear?”

I skim past all the music loaded up on the screen before clicking on a file, all the colorful waves pop up individually. The vocals, ad-libs, all the snares and drums. To me, it’s normal. I wasn’t a producer but after making music for so long, the technicalities become less and less overwhelming and more interesting.

“Wow.” Paige breathes.

“It’s a lot, I know.”

“Is it finished?” She asks me. I nod, shaking my hand side to side as to non verbally tell her ‘sorta’. The title reads BPW and yes it pretty much is finished, but I’m a perfectionist and I feel like most songs can always have more.

“You wanna hear it?” I question while looking her way. I take another drag from the blunt. “It’s kinda nasty tho’. The label only let me put two freaky songs on there, so this one got pushed back.”

“Only? You’re a freak, bro.” Paige replies. “Lemme hear it.”

The instrumental echos first when I hit play. Violin and bass, and then I remember I tried to avoid the piano for this song since most of my discography already is over taken by it. The intro is long, when I look over at Paige and she’s listening intently, I start to get nervous. “It’s still missing some thi—”

Her finger meets my lips, indirectly telling me to shut up. I sit there shocked. It’s soft, her finger, sliding down my bottom lip until her hand rests in my lap. It’s like i’m not even there, just another object in the room as she got consumed by the music.

I didn’t think I could be more turned on.

It’s the reason I write in the first place, the reaction and the feeling of absorption from my lyrics or my sound. But not many people around me get that. Paige so clearly does. It makes me feel warm, taken over with emotion because she sits there so focused, waiting for that first vocal.

—

Well shit, I think to myself when I finally hear the lyrics.

Maraye is crazy. She’s crazy for having me sit here and listen to her sing about sex while she wears those tight ass shorts, just days after telling me we are just friends. I can’t do anything about it.

My head slowly bows back and forth along with the sound of her voice. This song doesn’t deserve to be unreleased, it deserves to be in my library, on that playlist.

And even though we ain’t official

You know I ain't no regular girl

So tell me whenever I'm witcha

I got the best pussy in the—

I stare at her in awe, not just because of what I’m hearing but the way the smoke passes through her lips has me squeezing my legs together. My hand still rests in her lap lazily, I can’t will it to move, I don’t think she wants me to either.

It’s clear to me I have no self control. The other night, just minutes after dropping her off at home, I said I was done. Julian was a dickhead but that’s Maraye’s dickhead and I needed to respect it. Then here she goes, singing about how good she is in bed, and looking this fucking good. I need her. In all definitions of the word, I need her bad.

I stand up, needing some sort of space between us before I’m ripping every single thread of clothing on her body. I take a comfortable seat on the edge of the control panel, bowing my head with the melody. My heart rapidly beats in my chest, palms growing sweaty.

“You’re really good at this.” I breathe.

The song comes to an end, she presses a few buttons on her monitor that I don’t really care for. “Thank you, love.”

I force a large amount of oxygen into my lungs. Why did she have to say that? I was already struggling just being in the same room. Those damn eyes turning me into a mess between my thighs and here she goes.

A giggle escapes Maraye’s lips as she takes another hit. “Are you drunk?”

I shake my head. “Nah, ma. This tequila is hittin’ though.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm what?”

“Nothing.” Maraye mumbles. “Whatcha think about the song?” She asks me. She scoots the chair closer to me, wheels rolling against the hardwood until she’s seated between my legs.

“Only you could make singing ‘bout sex sound so perfect.” I comment. She really did sound angelic, the nickname so fitting. My arms are crossed over my chest as I size her up. It’s the first time I get a good look at her tattoos, normally I’m looking at her eyes or her thighs or shamelessly her tits. But the ink down her arm makes me crazy.

There’s one in particular that catches my eye. Linework of three faces overlapped, one blue, one green, and one red. I have no idea of the meaning, or what it stands for but the pop of color on her skin eats me alive.

Maraye shifts in her seat and a smile inches on her lips. Her hips moving in a way that intrigues me. “You alright there, angel?”

“I’m just fine, superstar. You?” She poses. I reach forward, taking the blunt from her hand and taking a drag. The way it clouds my brain let me know that I was not about to leave this room without making a move on her. I set it on the tray to my right, listing to her as she hums, “that song looked like it riled you up. I’m observant.”

I pull her in closer by the arm of the chair, if I couldn’t flirt I would sure as hell have fun teasing her. “I’m observant too. You been holding these legs together all night. Why?”

“Are you minding my business?”

“Yeah, ma. Now what?”

She doesn’t respond and now I want to know what she’s thinking. I want to get everything out in the open, all the things she wants to say but holds back on.

“The line is paper thin, Madison.”

“Like I asked, why you been sittin’ like this?” I ask again.

I know what I want her to say. I want her to tell me it’s me. That I got her so turned on that she’s sitting here with her legs practically glued together because it’s morally wrong to act on how she’s feeling. Even tell me that she wants to rip my clothes off as badly as I want to rip hers off.

Her foot taps against the floor, echoing off the walls alongside our in sync breathing. “I-uh. M’just crossed. Leave me alone” She begs, voice low almost like she’s shy. It’s cute.

“Jus’ crossed, baby? Y’sure?”

I don’t think i’ve ever been so forward with Maraye than I am right now. Everything running through my body right now is like a shot of adrenaline.

“Paige! You can’t be doing this to me right now.” She tosses her head back frustratedly. I’m stifling a laugh from where I stand. I knew I could get her flustered but this was too easy.

She looks back up at me, her eyes dark and slightly glazed over. The weed has her eyes rimed with red and oddly enough the smell it exudes from her is incredible. Nearly as intoxicating as the substance itself.

“Doin’ what?” I chuckle. “I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable, angel. You look tense.”

“You make me tense.”

I fake a pout. “Lemme fix it.”

“Why do you insist on not having a boundary or respecting mine?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever had boundaries, Raye.” I point out.

My hands instinctively reach for her own, standing her up so I’m not longer craning my neck to look at her. Still, the good four inches I have on her makes her eye me eagerly. Looking up like she’s giving in. “Paige we can’t.” Maraye sighs.

“So tell me to stop.” I muse.

“What?”

I trail my hands to her body. The left holding onto her hip while the other wraps around her waist. She doesn’t even try to fight me off, instead I swear she falls into me more. Her hand holds onto my bicep, avoiding eye contact with me.

I notice it. Every single act that is out of her normal. The stuttering and looking everywhere but me. She’s shy. I’ll take it as a good thing, that my actions have her reacting like a school girl.

“Lemme get you right.” I murmur.

Maraye’s mouth opens, then closes immediately after. My head pushes towards her, right where her neck meets her shoulder. I get a good whiff of her Chanel perfume.

“This is so wrong, P.” She whispers.

“Tell me,” I start with my lips up against her ear, “to stop.”

“The cameras.”

I look around the control panel, before spotting the on/off switch under the table. I flick it off, the red light by the camera in the corner blinks off.

“I—”

“Oh my God, just shut up.” I hum and it’s a matter of seconds before our lips are touching, moving against one another in sync.

It’s different than the first time. That one was slow, like we were still trying to figure it out. But this one? This one is hungry, fast and familiar. I can make out the taste of weed on her lips, tequila in the back of her mouth when my tongue reaches that spot.

Maraye’s hands are in my hair, tugging it between her fingers all hurried like I could slip away. Mine are everywhere. her hips, her thighs, her ass. I squeeze it before smoothing a hand over the area. A groan slips past my lips and into her mouth.

I’m pushing us away from the table, past all the chairs and wires until her back hits the leather couch behind us. I pull back, and her mouth is sucking on my tongue. I swear God himself would have to claw me off of her after that.

“Wanna take your clothes off.” I pant. My kisses move to her jaw, licking it before moving down her neck. I’m searching for that sweet spot, and when she moans in my ear I know I’ve found it.

It’s quite easily the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Maraye is quite easily the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Her stunning brown skin and curls that tickle my face with each suck I give to her neck. The septum in her nose and tattoos down her arm. To make things harder for me she smells fucking incredible, and the feel of her plush thighs in my hands reduces me to nothing.

My knee meets the center of her legs, that spot that makes her arch into me. I reach for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head and it hangs off the arm of the couch.

“I wanna fuck you right here, angel.” I mutter against her warm skin. Maraye cups my face, pulling my lips back to hers eagerly. She licks at my bottom lip before slipping it into my mouth. I swallow up every moan she gives me, so damn desperate for more. My hand grips her breast that unfortunately is confined in that black sports bra she wears.

“Paige, fuck.” She gasps against me. Her hand leaves my face to pull my glasses off, they’re unbelievably foggy and I didn’t even notice, too busy tonguing her down to care. She holds them before kissing me again and biting my bottom lip.

“You’re fuckin’ nasty.” I sigh, pulling her closer.

Maraye moans my name when I push my knee deeper into her cunt. I can feel just how wet she is against my bare skin.

“Lemme have you, ma.” I grunt, suddenly felling very hot in the UConn hoodie I have on. “Show me how good that pussy is, baby. You said it’s the best, yeah? Prove it.”

It’s carnal the way I need her. Like my sole purpose for being put on this earth was to please her. I’ll do it. Happily. Hell, I’m begging for it.

“Fuck. God, P.” She hiccups, letting my hands travel wherever they can reach. They settle on her hips, playing with the waistband of her shorts while my tongue continues to clash with hers. God, it’s messy. Saliva sticky on my chin.

I’m about to dig into her shorts when the door handle fumbles. I sigh gratefully that it’s locked but then I hear it, the clicking.

—

The fact that I have to fight with myself on whether or not I should push Paige off of me is very telling of my behavior. Someone is messing with the lock on the door, so with what leftover strength I have, I pull away from Paige and push her back off of me.

She reaches for my face and wipes the saliva from my lips, giving me one more chaste kiss before sitting back on the opposite end of the couch. I search for my shirt, which has now made it’s way to the floor. By the time I toss it over my head and hand Paige her glasses back and fluff my hair so it is naturally falling over the hickeys I assume Paige has left on my neck, the door is swinging open.

“God damn, Raye. You coul— oh. I didn’t know you had someone else in here.”

It’s Kaylee, which makes me let out quite possibly the world’s biggest sigh of relief. I play with my bottom lip, hoping she can’t point out how swollen it is from Paige biting it.

Her taste, like cherries and a bit of tequila, has completely overpowered any other taste previously in my mouth. She’s taken over my entire body.

“Hey.” Paige greets her, awkwardly clearing her throat.

Kaylee smiles and waves before walking to the controls. She drops her bag in the seat I had just occupied earlier. She stands still, then looks up in the corner, the light by the camera’s that are almost always on suddenly off.

She flips the switch before turning to look at the two of us.

“Huh. Someone turned the camera’s off.” She comments.

“Weird.” I reply.

Really weird.

[prentisslover0812]

rewards ; agatha harkness

warnings : dom!agatha, sub!reader, innocent!reader, pet names, enchanted strap, cock warming (super brief), nipple play, blow job, mommy kink, slight pain kink, inappropriate use of magic, age gap, slight overstimulation, size kink, dacryphilia (mild), bulging, slight degradation, accidental seduction, etc.

The rain was falling lightly in the night, trees rustling with the wind, the cold coming in waves. The clicking sounds of a keyboard echoed in the house, steady and melodic, stopping for the occasional sip of tea. Agatha sits on the dining table, darkness surrounding her aside from a soft light above her.

She’d been working all day long — and she had started typing away from the moment she arrived home. You, as always, never complained. You brought her meals, the occasional snack, and a tea whenever she began to appear far too stressed for your liking.

But you wanted her to come to bed. You wanted to nuzzle against her, feel her body heat, smell her scent. You wanted to hear her steady heartbeat beneath your ear, the way her lungs expanded with each breath.

“Aggie?” Your voice flows through the air, entering your lover’s ears. You watch her glance up at you, peeking over her glasses as you bit your lip nervously.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Agatha replies gently, glancing at the time. She removes her glasses and sets them aside, eyes wandering over your body, unabashed. She knew you were too innocent to realize the effects of your outfit — she knew you just wanted to be comfortable.

Your body is clad in one of your soft, more snug shirts. It’s red — and the chilly air makes it obvious that you were lacking underwear, as usual. You wore a pair of black shorts, hanging loosely around your waist, threatening to dip too low at any given moment. She could see your defined v-line — your flat stomach before looking up at your chest, firm and round and plump.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” You murmur gently, leaning against the door frame. Your hair was fluffy and messy, framing your face. Your eyes, doe and tired, watched her expectantly, swimming with a hint of diffidence. Agatha lifts her finger and motions for you to come to her, moving her chair away.

You oblige quickly, quiet and immediate. When her finger points downwards, eyes still on her screen, you sink to your knees, hands landing on her thighs as you look up at her, pretty and doe-eyed. Her lips stretch into a smile, fingers gently pinching your chin as she looks down at you.

“You think you can come in here lookin’ like that, angel?” Agatha murmured, ignoring your previous question. Your doe eyes shimmer with confusion, tilting your head to the side curiously.

“Like what?” Her eyes burn with desire.

“Oh, bunny,” She sighed condescendingly. “This pretty head of yours is so silly sometimes — can’t even understand the simplest things, huh? So dumb, and so innocent, and all mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” You flush as she cups your cheek, nuzzling into her touch. “M’yours, Aggie.”

“Try again, little one,” She smiled, gripping your chin dangerously. Her eyes shone with a silent warning.

“I — I’m yours, mommy,” You answer, swallowing.

“Good girl,” She cooed. “Now, mommy still has some work to do, but I’ll let my bunny spend some time here. Would that make you happy, pretty girl?”

You nod quickly, “Mhm. Yes, please.”

Satisfied, Agatha hummed, placing down her pen. Your eyes were glued to her hands as they slowly undid her belt, making you swallow thickly. You kissed the button of her jeans before she undid them slowly, capturing the zipper and dragging it down soon after.

Her hand dips into her boxers, pulling out the dark purple dildo that she had made you become acquainted with. You glance up at her when she grabs your hair, making you lick your lips and part your mouth obediently, laying your hands on her inner thighs as she slowly slips the strap into your mouth.

She breathes out, letting her head loll back a bit. Your eyes are glued to the way her chest rises and falls slowly, though deeply. Slowly, like she had been teaching you, you sunk the strap deeper, making your throat expand slightly with the intrusion. Agatha lifts her head, mouth parted as she panted, watching your throat.

“Good girl,” She breathed. “Oh, such a good girl.”

Her hand tightens in your hair, forcing you to bob up and down onto the strap. She’s panting, moans coming close to whines as she uses your throat. Your hand comes up and wraps around your throat, squeezing. She jolted with a loud moan, watching you with wide eyes.

Tears stung in your eyes as you held back your gag reflex, tightening your grip around your throat. She moans loudly again, and you can faintly see her legs shaking. Your hands return to her thighs, bobbing your head up and down. Her legs are squeezing you, fingers digging into the back of your head.

“This fucking mouth,” She breathes shakily, thrusting her hips. Tears stream down your cheeks as she fucks into your throat mercilessly, hands gripping the sides of your head as she chased her own high. When she felt it coming, she pushed your head closer to her, groaning gutturally as she forced your nose to nuzzle into her pelvis.

Her eyes rolled back, legs tensing around you, keeping you in place as they shook. You could feel her release shooting directly into your throat, streaming down without stopping. She leaned forward, hand still tight on your hair, and moaned loudly, gasping. Finally, she pulled you off the strap, making you splutter and cough for air.

Your lungs were burning and your jaw was sore, but you took it either way. Agatha, still breathing heavily, ran her fingers through your hair. You lick off the cum on the strap, making her suck in a breath as she drops her head back on the chair. Her chest is heaving, thighs occasionally twitching.

“Fuck,” She breathed. “Where'd you learn that pretty trick, angel? Where's my innocent little bunny?”

You flush, “I — I was thinking about you a-and I was looking for things I could do to make you feel better and it just…came to mind.”

Agatha ran her hands over her face, “Such a good girl, huh? Just wanted to make mommy feel good?”

You nod, still flushed. You're looking up at her with doe eyes, the strap still standing straight, pressing against your cheek. Agatha gently caressed your cheek, humming as she looked down at you.

“...get ready for mommy, angel. You've earned yourself a reward,” She spoke softly, making you perk. You stand on your feet, knees sore from the hard floor, before making your way to the bedroom, kneeling on the bed obediently.

You can hear her in the kitchen, likely returning her empty mug. Her footsteps head toward your direction, and you feel yourself squirming. It was rare that you were rewarded or punished — you opted to stay in the middle, on her good side but not your best.

“Ready, bunny?” She asks as she walks in, smiling slightly. Her pants are buttoned again, strap pushed down under her boxers. You swallow and nod, hands turning into fists on your lap.

“Yes, mommy,” You nod, trying not to squirm. She smirks slightly, chuckling under her breath as she watches your body language.

“You're not usually this eager,” She hums. “Excited?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod. “Want mommy so bad…”

“Mhm, I see that,” She smiles, beckoning you over to the edge of the bed. You obey, sitting. Your legs hang over the bed, barely brushing against the floor as you look up at her. Her lips catch yours in a gentle kiss, different from her usual fiery kisses she gives you when she's eager to devour you whole.

Your hands reach up, grasping her shirt as your eyes close, opening your mouth to let her tongue slide in. She moans, grasping your jaw as she works her tongue inside your mouth, sucking and swirling with yours. She pulls back, hands move down to the hem of your shirt.

“Arms up,” She mutters, and you obey. She groans when she pulls your shirt over your head, watching your breasts fall into place, symmetrical and tight. Her hand pushes you back, making you lay on the bed. You swallow as she settles between your legs, letting them settle over her thighs. She smirks, eyes dancing with something dark.

Her hands gently stroke over your nipples, making you tense. She smiles widely, taking in the firm peaks between her fingers and pinching lightly. You moan out, back arching slightly, breathing heavily.

“You think mommy forgot about how sensitive you are here?” She chuckles, pinching again. You twitch, lips parting in a needy, breathy groan. Your eyes cloud over as she leans down, taking a nipple in her mouth while she toys with the other one.

“Mommy,” You breathe out, wrapping your legs around her waist. She chuckles softly, sucking harshly. Your body jolts with a high-pitched squeak, looking up at her with cloudy eyes.

“Wonder if you can cum like this,” She mumbles, biting down softly. You cry out, panting. She moves to the swell of your breast, sucking a mark on it. You can feel a coil tighten in your abdomen — it feels strange, weaker, but still pleasurable.

She switches to the other nipple, using her free hand to pinch the previous one. Tears sting your eyes — like there was a connection from your nipples to your clit. Your legs tighten around her waist, breathing heavily. Your eyes roll back, closing in concentration. Agatha’s lips stretch into a smile when your mouth drops open.

“M'cumming soon,” You breathe. “C-can I, mommy? Can I cum, please?”

She hums in approval, biting down on your nipple. Your eyes fly open, hands tangling in her hair as you moan loudly, hips moving as the coil in your abdomen snapped. Your mouth waters and your cheeks flushed, embarrassed. You came — and she hadn't even properly touched you.

“So sensitive,” Agatha chuckled, releasing your nipple with a pop. You sigh, slumping against the mattress. You could feel wetness between your legs, throbbing angrily — needily.

She tapped your leg, “Open.”

Your legs part immediately, making her move aside the shorts. You flush as her fingers run over your slit, collecting the small amount of white that strained them. The smirk she gave you was breathtaking — you just wanted her to take you already.

“What do you want, angel?” She asks softly, gently nudging your clit. Your thighs twitch as you breathe out.

“Want — want mommy's cock..” You whimper, opening your eyes and looking up at her. They're glossed over and cloudy, but desperate and wide. She hums, gently running her hand over your flat, defined stomach.

“Mommy's cock?” Her eyes don't leave the area where her hand is planted. Her lips curl into a smirk as an idea pops into her head — your entire body is covered with goosebumps when you see her unbutton her pants again.

“M-mommy..” You whine, and your eyes widen when the strap comes out. It's bigger than it was before — so much bigger. That could not have been in your mouth.

“You look nervous, sweetheart,” She chuckles, amused by your reaction. You swallow nervously, watching the large dildo glow with her magic. She made it bigger.

“S'not gonna fit, mommy..” You say nervously, eyes trained on it. Agatha’s lips stretch wider, pushing her pants down.

“We'll make it fit, bunny. We always do,” She answers, pushing your legs farther apart. You flush at the position you're in, bare and open for her. She presses the toy at your entrance, and you hear her breathe in. She teases your clit with it, watching your thighs twitch occasionally.

Slowly, she runs two fingers up and down your folds, collecting the clear slick and the bit of cum left, using them as lubricant to sink her fingers inside you. A breathy moan leaves your lips as she works you gently, breath catching when she adds a third finger.

She doesn't move, letting you adjust. She doesn't usually fuck you with three fingers, but she's made it happen once or twice before. Then, she begins her thrusting, feeling you tighten and squirm as you moan.

She wonders how tight you'll feel around her cock, and it makes her moan out. She slips her fingers out, making you whine, but presses the head of the toy against you, slowly slipping it inside. She moans as you suck in the tip, her thighs tensing at the feeling.

Then, while holding on to your legs, she sinks the toy further inside. You moan out, wincing at the unfamiliar stretch. The size is new. It makes it burn a bit, but you can feel her so deep inside you that you feel like you're losing your mind. Agatha is breathing heavily, trying to regain control, but you clench around her so tightly that she wonders how she hasn't cum yet.

“Fuck…” She hisses.

“Mommy..!” You whine, wiggling your hips. The movement causes a guttural moan to leave her lips, pushing the rest of the toy inside. She's bottomed out now, buried inside you completely. Her eyes are trained on the bulge of your flat stomach, and she swallows thickly.

“My bunny. You're all mine,” She breathes, thrusting in and out slowly. You whine and moan, nodding your head mindlessly. “Nobody’s ever touching my angel, okay? Mommy's gonna be your first and your last.”

“Yes, mommy,” You moan out as she increases the pace of her thrusts. Agatha, who is usually silent while she fucks you, is moaning out with every thrust, breathing heavily, ragged and desperate. Her eyes remain in the bulge and she grabs your hand, guiding it to your stomach.

You whine, flushing. You can feel her cock as it moves in and out of you. You press down on it, feeling her gasp as you clench tightly. Her thighs shake as you push, making your eyes water as your mouth drops open. It reaches your g-spot each time you press down.

“Oh my gods — mommy, it's so good!” You moan gutturally, feeling her fingers dig into your hips as she fucks you harder. Her panting and moaning is driving you so close, but the way her eyes gloss over when you press down on the bulge makes you want to burst. Your hands slide up her arms, eyes rolling back as you clench.

“Fuck!” She groans, pushing down on the bulge. Your mind goes blank, mouth dropping open as your eyes roll back. You see stars behind your lids as she jackhammer into you while you rode your high, the toy abusing your sweet spot until you're throbbing around her.

She keeps going, her pace becoming more brutal. She's lost in her lust, in pleasure, in the way you wrap around her so tightly that she may never be able to get out. Tears stream down your temple, and your hips lift from the bed as you arch. Her eyes roll back at the new position, fucking you harder.

“Too much-!” You cry out, thighs shaking, but you don't mean it. It's not too much — you've never had too much of her. It's never enough. You need her inside of you every waking moment of every day.

“You can take it,” She pants, groaning. “I know you can, bunny. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your eyes roll back as her thrusts grow in force, becoming sloppy. She's leaning her weight onto the hand she has planted on your stomach, pushing her cock against you. You're cumming again before you know it, and she growls as you pulse around her.

Finally, she releases inside you. She's filling you up so much more than usual, until you're dripping on the bed. Your moans are loud and unrestrained, nails digging into her arms. She's hovering over you, panting heavily. Her eyes are cloudy, glossed over.

You look up at her when she doesn't move, reaching up and cupping her face. You're still trying to catch your breath, but she's lost in another world. You wrap your arms around her neck, pulling yourself up. You moan as you readjust, the toy still inside you.

“Aggie,” You groan, shivering. “Are you okay?”

“Angel,” She groans. “Fuck. I'm fine. That was just…”

You breathe out, nodding. Your rest your head on her shoulder, relaxing your body as you shift. It makes you accidentally pulse around her, making her choke out a moan and thrust harshly.

“Fuck,” You moan. “Sorry. I'm sorry.”

Agatha breathes out and gently lifts you, making you wince. With a bated breath, she lays you back in the bed, unhooking the strap and sighing when the feeling of overstimulation eased. She watched her cum slide between your legs, gently kissing your swollen stomach.

“How are you feeling?” She asks softly, moving up and kissing the underside of your breath. You hum, eyes closing as your hand tangles in her hair, scratching her head lightly.

“If I wasn't tired before, I am now,” You mumble, forcing your eyes open with a small smile. Agatha chuckles and leans to kiss your lips, gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“You were delicious today,” She comments, pulling away. “That trick you did with your throat? Excellent. And taking the entire strap when I enchanted it and increased its size? Delectable.”

You flush, “Th-thank you, Aggie…”

“You're welcome, bunny,” She chuckles.

[honeygrahambitch]

Summary: "Will and Hannibal accidentally picked the same victim" or "two wolves fighting for prey"

Will watched as Dave Miller left the pub and got into a black chevy. He followed him home, already familiar with the way. It was the sixth night in a row when he was observing his daily habits.

The FBI had let him go because of the lack of proofs, even if everyone knew what that man had done. And it was not that Will was entering his vigilante era. It was something else.

Besides the satisfaction he would get from feeling righteous, he would harvest a piece and bring it to Hannibal. The idea of surprising Hannibal was what brought him a certain thrill which he was not so proud of.

**

Hannibal waited in the parking lot as Dave Miller parked his car in the drive way. He was hoping his Bentley would not stand out in the neighborhood. Certainly not fitting for the place.

Dave had been extremely rude to him when he had to assess him for the FBI. So rude that he could not forgive him. It was probably a week since he had been following him around.

Besides the fact that Mr. Miller was a pig, he needed to get a few things out of his system. Will had been awfully unavailable during the last few days. Always busy in the evenings, never available for dinner and no more good night texts.

Hannibal had promised himself he would give Will all the space in the world to figure out his own design and his place in their relationship. He would not rush and he would not push him and he would not force him into doing anything that felt unnatural.

That didn't stop Hannibal from dreaming about the day they would hunt those pigs together. When he would watch the gleam in Will's eyes as he would watch the life fade away from their victim. The way he would be so proud of his Will and he would admire the whole scene the same way one feels when they have an epiphany.

That image would have to suffice until Will would feel ready.

**

"Dinner tonight?" He asked Will the next day, just as he was about to leave the FBI building.

He would have dinner with Will, maybe even more, then he could go to end Mr. Miller. And Will would wait for him at home. Or he would choose to join him. The idea of bringing food to his beloved made him feel warm inside.

"I can't." Will replied. Not tonight. Not when it would be the night he would kill Dave. Then he would present himself in front of Hannibal's door and he would bring him his victim. "I need to finish a few reports."

His prey. His prey that he would bring to Hannibal as an offering.

"I miss you." Hannibal replied.

"I miss your food too." Will said, the grin on his face betraying his true feelings.

"That is reassuring. You know, you can work on your reports at my place too."

"Too many distractions."

Hannibal hummed to that, kissed him on the cheek and left.

So be it then.

**

A Friday night. As expected, Dave Miller was in his living room watching TV. Not for long.

Will had sneaked in earlier when Dave had parked his car in the garage. Already used with the format of the house, he walked down the small hall and entered the kitchen. From there he could see the light from the TV. He only needed a few seconds to think his attack through.

**

Hannibal had entered the house through an open window on the first floor. He had left it open for himself the day before when he had entered the house in order to get used to the rooms and with Mr. Miller's evening habits. It was the time the pig would be watching TV.

Hannibal went downstairs, as quiet and delicate as a cat, holding his scalpel in his hand. The light from the TV came from the living room. He would enter, come from behind the armchair and slit his throat. The idiot would be too focused on his stupid football game to hear him come.

He was ready to attack when he saw movement in the darkness from the kitchen. Was Mr. Miller not in the living room at that moment? Was Mr. Miller not alone? He would have to kill everyone in the house then.

He made up his mind to start with the one in the kitchen.

**

Will saw a silhouette coming downstairs. Then Dave was not watching TV? Why wasn't he moving anymore? Was that someone else? He would have to take that person down first since he was staying in his way towards the living room.

**

Hannibal saw the figure launch at him, so he did just the same, both of them as quiet as possible. His scalpel was just about to pierce the neck of the intruder when his arm was grabbed forcefully and bent to his back. With the aching muscle and useless arm, he used his mouth to bite the neck of his attacker, making him yelp. With his hand now free, he could finally use his scalpel and finish him off was it not for the very familiar scent.

"Will?"

With one hand on his bleeding neck, adrenaline rushing through him, before he could process it, Will punched his attacker's face with all the force he had. Hannibal was too stunned by his previous realization to dodge.

When he fell onto the floor, the light from the TV in the living room revealed his face.

Will froze as if he could not process what just happened.

"The fuck?" Will mouthed to Hannibal as he forgot about the blood flowing from his neck. He fell to his knees in order to lean over Hannibal, lift his face and inspect it. Blood was just starting to flow from his nose, down his already stained lips. "Dammit, Hannibal."

"That was not bad." Hannibal murmured as he regained his consciousness. He instinctively reached for Will's neck. He was grateful he had not bitten harder into the skin. No permanent damage done. A wide smile appeared on his face.

"Who's there?" Dave's voice came from the living room.

Will quickly helped Hannibal get up.

"I got this." Will said, preparing himself.

"Sorry, baby, but he is mine." Hannibal whispered back.

"No, I've been following him for a week."

"Me as well."

Will was about to learn that he could not steal another predator's prey. Not when he had followed it for so long. Not when he needed to kill that man in order to pull himself together about the fact that his Will had been actively ignoring him.

As they stared at each other, Hannibal realized a second too late that Will rushed towards the living room. He chased after him and grabbed his middle in an attempt to pull him down. Doing that and holding the scalpel in such a way that it wouldn't touch Will happened to be a difficult task.

Even more so when Mr. Miller jumped from the armchair, trying to assess the scene in his living room.

"Fuck you." Will said as he got up to his feet and tried to pull Hannibal away from their victim. When that didn't work he kicked the back of his knees, making him lose his balance.

Mr. Miller was so taken aback by the two strangers who seemed to have a conflict of their own that he didn't have any reaction when Will pushed him onto the floor and wrapped his arm around his neck, leaving him little room to breath.

"Although I have never been more in love with you than I am in this very moment," Hannibal started while breathing heavily, "do not get in between me and my pig. There will be many others for you, my darling. And if you want, we can end this one together." He tried to negotiate.

Will shook his head, not loosening his grip. "Just let me do everything tonight. Then you can cook for us."

"Cook?" The man yelped, making Will strengthen his grip more.

"I really need to..." Hannibal said as he pointed towards his scalpel. It was a need. An urge that he could not contain. Especially when his blood was boiling through his veins.

"No." Will said as he was preparing to snap his neck. "I am capable."

"I could never contest that, my beloved. My week was awful, I need to let it out." Hannibal said carefully trying not to provoke Will into doing something impulsively.

"I've been waiting for so long for this. And I was going to bring him to you. And you were going to..." Will's pupils were dilated, his breathing was hard. A vein on his temple almost popping.

Hannibal realized Will looked exactly like a wolf about to devour its prey.

"What, what was I going to?" More important than killing that pig was understanding Will's design. His motive was part of his design. And Hannibal was just realizing he had been part of Will's design all along.

"You were going to appreciate it, Hannibal, dammit. You were not going to expect me to bring you a body. You were supposed to..."

...Look at me the way you look now.

Will realized the admiration and fascination in Hannibal's eyes were real. What he wanted to achieve was in fact happening in front of him.

"You wanted to kill him for me." Hannibal thought loudly. He sat on the floor to be on the same level as Will and leaned in to caress his cheek. Both of them ignored the man who was struggling almost in between them. "I promise I have never been more impressed and honored in my entire life."

The wild look in Will's eyes softened, as if he had been tamed. He leaned in Hannibal's touch.

"We are idiots." Will concluded. He was so focused on Hannibal's touch that he did not pay attention to his grip which was no longer as tight as earlier. In the split of a second, Dave moved his arm from around his neck and tried to escape.

Hannibal's scalpel quickly found his artery, causing the blood to splatter on them both until the body went limp next to them.

"My fault." Will said as he tried to wipe away some blood off his forehead. "You were saying distracting things that I was unfortunately longing to hear."

"I'm sorry I had to take this from you. I was really going to let you end him. I only wanted to kill him because I felt like you were losing interest in me. The whole week. You were probably focused on catching...him."

Will nodded. "I really wanted you to see what I am capable of."

"I did see and I am so in love." Hannibal said as he held Will's hand and kissed it tenderly. "Let's take care of this mess."

Will nodded.

He had not had the chance to kill anyone that night. Yet, his heart was beating loudly.

[leezlelatch]

I love your writing and style. It's been a hard week and it's made me happy after discovering it. Just wondering if you, if you had the time, could write a slightly smutty drabble. I love your take on protective doll baby Copia. He's perfect.

With the last few months I'd love to read a ficlette where he discovers the reader almost in tears after being torn down by people, told that she's worthless, and now doubting herself because of the complete lack of self esteem which is even worse after this. Copia goes into DarkCopia mode while loving her like the badass he is. He doesn't like it when people hurt his gal. And he makes sure she knows how much worth he sees in her.

Truly though, even if you don't have time...your stuff has made me happy. <3

Hello, my friend. I'm so sorry this week has been hard. I hope it has improved, and I am so happy that my writing has made a difference! Here is a little something for you from me, and Copia. <3

Copia x Reader - hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive, a little smutty, protective Copia, suggestively Dark!Copia.

The old key slipping into the lock rouses you from your light doze, and your eyes feel heavy as you turn over, watching as Copia steps into his quarters, his gaze lowered as he shifts his takeout bag from one hand to the other, depositing the key back into his pocket. He raises his head, and you make eye contact. Two things happen in that moment that makes the hair raise on your arms, and your heart warm with affection at the same time. Copia takes in the sight of you, curled up like a burrito in his blanket, your nose tucked into the fabric, eyes red. He knows it’s because you’re trying to find comfort in his scent. He knows you, in and out. His expression freezes in a ghastly stare, his eyes narrowed, lips set in a deep frown which accentuates the wrinkles around his mouth. His brows are pulled down, and he appears paler than he usually does. In short, he looks ready to hurt someone. 

But then it falls away. Cold fury melting into concern, and he drops his bag at the door, uncaring as the takeout boxes tumble and rest on their sides in his haste to reach you. Gloved hands pull you from the blankets, settling you across his lap, his arms cradling you. His face grows very close to yours, searching your eyes with a certain desperation. Copia is another person when it comes to you. The endearing, funny Papa is gone and replaced by someone who is calculating, smart, one step ahead. The real him. The one he hides, the clergy unaware that the puppet is actually the puppet master. You’re precious to him, and there is nothing this man would not do to keep you happy and safe.

“Baby,” he says very softly, his accent curling around the endearment. “Tell Papa what happened, eh?” His thumb rubs beneath your eye. “What are the tears for?”

“I had a hard day,” you respond, your voice a little hoarse. His brow furrows, and one of his hands slides its way down your body, feeling, prodding gently, as if he were checking for some external injury. “I’m okay, Copia.”

“Okay is not finding il mio amore all wrapped up and crying.” He works at removing a glove, slipping each finger out of the leather. He flexes his hand once it’s removed, and it makes you smile, even if just a little. Copia said to you before that he was used to it, but you know the constricting leather became a little much after a long day. 

“Somebody said something to me today,” you murmur, taking his hand and holding it to your face. His fingers cradle your jaw, the warmth of his skin encouraging you to speak. “And I feel like I just…can’t do right. That I’m not right. I can’t even face myself in the mirror because I’m afraid of what I’ll see.” You pause, gathering your thoughts. “I’m afraid to see that they’re right.”

Copia sucks in a shaky breath when you finish, and you can already see his mind working. “My love, I don’t want you going after anyone,” you say, reaching to grasp his chin, squeezing it gently. “I’m not telling you this to make you angry.”

He stares down at you, and then he nods slowly. Copia shifts back onto the bed so his back is against the wall and he adjusts his hold on you, looking thoughtful as his fingers pick up a soothing rhythm against your cheek. “There are a few things I need to be correcting, amore. And I need you to be good for your Papa, and listen. I will never allow a single soul in this building or elsewhere to hurt you. That goes for all our Siblings, but you are not just a Sibling, sì? You are my amore. Also,” he clicks his tongue. “The peoples are wrong. They will learn that they are wrong. And you, vita mia, also need to be corrected.”

You’re listening intently, your eyes trained on his features, adoring how expressive his features are when he speaks, but his last words make you pause. “I have to be corrected?” That was the last thing you expected to hear. 

“Yes,” Copia says, drawing out the word, his expression set. You’re bewildered when he doesn’t elaborate, letting out a sound of surprise as he firmly guides you up and out of the bed. 

“Copia, no-,” you begin to protest as he approaches the full length mirror near his dresser, your hand tightly wrapped in his grip. Copia pins you with a look that shuts your mouth, and he takes you by the shoulders, setting you directly in the reflection of the mirror. 

“We shall start here,” he says, his fingers tapping beneath your chin. “You will watch, and listen.” Copia circles you like a vulture, his hands clasped behind his back. “When you smile, I want to smile too.” His voice has lowered, tender and affectionate. “I am not so proud of my teeth, but I would smile ear to ear just to match your joy. That is healing for me, amore. You do that.”

Fingers brush your cheek. “You blush at the sight of me. At the sight of me. So beautiful and sweet, and I am sure that I have seen the depths of paradise. And the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, oh…,” he laughs softly to himself, his voice almost a coo. “Do you realize how lucky I am to know your eyes? To watch your brow furrow or rise. To see emotion pass over your face. To read the story of your life through every blemish and line.”

Your breath is stolen from your lungs, and you’re already crying. Copia’s hands shake as they grasp your hips, standing now close behind you, his voice a gentle whisper in your ear. His breath makes you shiver, and you feel his hips shift against your backside. “You’re biased,” you whisper, and he laughs.

“I am very proud of this, amore. It is a gift to be biased,” he murmurs, his eyes catching yours in the mirror. “It is a gift to have you.” His hands slip beneath your shirt, grasping and kneading at soft skin. You make a breathless noise, leaning back against him, and Copia almost purrs. “Hmm, you are liking your Papa’s touches?”

They slip higher, fingers grazing your nipples, and he pauses there. You whimper, caught between your emotions and your arousal, and Copia knows how to play you like the finest instrument. When to touch, and when to pause, letting it all wash over you, giving you the time you need to feel safe in his arms. “Your body,” he says, pressing his hips firmly into the curve of your ass. “Ignites a fire inside of me, you know? I am incomplete when I am not joined with you.” He’s almost growling now, a rough edge to his voice. 

You’re spun around in his arms and he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue thoroughly plundering your mouth and rendering you incapable of any thought. Copia has a talent at making you forget, and suddenly the cruel words from today have all but vanished from your mind. “I love you,” he hisses, nipping at your bottom lip. His hand grasps your chin, raising your eyes to his, and his tone softens. “I love you.”

He kisses you softly now, his lips curling into a smile. “You are worth everything. You don’t need to look into the mirror, amore, just look into my eyes. I see you. I see the glory in you. And you will always have a home with me. You are safe with me.”

Another tear falls down your cheek and he kisses it away. “I love you, too,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his. Your hand slips beneath the waistband of his trousers, and he gasps, arching into your touch.

“Do not think,” he murmurs, his voice a little strained as he pushes you toward the bed. “That this does not mean they will be…removed. Papa protects what is his.”

[cheesecakeloverr]

THE MORNING AFTER

hamzahthefantastic x reader

‎𐰁𖦹°⋆ When you wake up after a night out in a strangers bed, the two of you desperately try and figure out the events of that night, and how you ended up in his bed.

———————-

I stir in bed, awakening to a headache that pierces my skull. I shift in the covers lazily, snuggling into the warmth of them as cool air filtered the room.

Just as I’m near the the point of drifting back to sleep, I feel an arm drape over me. I sit upright immediately in shock, my eyes wide as they land across a dark curly haired man, who seems cosy in bed beside me. My mind begins racing, my heart beating uncontrollably fast as I stare at him, extremely confused, realising he was shirtless.

My eyes tear away from him, to the room surrounding me, and my jaw gapes wide open, as the room looking back at me wasn’t mine. The question running through my head, was how the fuck did i end up here, in this house, in this man’s bed?

Suddenly, the man in bed starts to stir, his eyes opening blearily as he wipes his curls away from his eyes, yawning softly, completely unaware.

That is, until his eyes adjust to the morning light peering through the window, and his expression becomes bewildered, stumbling out of the bed, wrapping the covers around his exposed body.

“Why are you in my bed? Who are you?” He exclaimed, his eyes widening as they scanned over me.

“I don’t know! I don’t even know who you are, or why I’m here, or.. even where the fuck I am!” I nervously ramble, my head in my hands as I avoid eye contact with him, my cheeks flushing pink.

He tilts his head as he continues to look me up and down with wide eyes, making me all the more flustered as i realised my attire, and the lack of clothes covering me.

“I was hoping that you’d be able to fill me in on what happened last night too” he asks, his breathing slowing down as he began to calm himself.

“My head is fucking killing me, and all I even vaguely remember is that one of my friends invited me to this party last night..” I recall, sitting down on the edge of his bed as I try and remember more of the previous night.

He slowly nods his head as you speak, smirking slightly as he gets a good look at you in your underwear.

“You and me both, this hangover isn’t fun”He responds, scratching the back of his head as he groans, feeling the effects of the alcohol from the night before still.

“Any more details coming back to you?”

I sigh, frustrated, until I get an idea.

“Wait, your phone. Where is it?” I ask frantically, thoughts and ideas flooding my mind.

He chuckles at my eagerness to be on his phone, clearly amused by it. He stretches to grab his phone that was charging on the beside table, handing it to me.

“There you go” he smiles, sitting down on the bed beside me, leaning back.

“Did you take any pictures last night, or post anything?” I question, giving the phone back to him so he could enter his passcode, my fingers dancing against his as I do, causing my heart rate to go up just that little bit faster.

He leaned in close to me, his muscular build now almost touching mine, grinning as he watched me fidget with my fingers as he enters the passcode. He opens up his photos, scrolling through photos and videos from the night before.

“I got a few, yeah” he mentions, scrolling through the dozens he had saved.

“Show me” i whisper, almost scared to look, just incase, as I lean closer to him, peering over his shoulder to face the small phone.

He snickers at how close I’ve gotten, obviously liking having my body practically pressed against his. He opens up one of the videos, showing a clip of me and him, clearly drunk, dancing together in the middle of the table.

I groan, running my hands through my hair as my cheeks flush bright pink, embarrassment overcoming me at my past, drunken self.

“Just.. skip to the next one” i cringe, hearing my past drunken self singing through the speaker.

He chuckles at my embarrassed state, thoroughly enjoying my reaction. He skips to the next video, where we see a video of me and him standing next to each other, and I’m clearly trying to balance myself on his much larger frame as i struggle to stand up straight.

I can faintly hear the sound of my girlish giggling over the music, making me feel like vomiting due to how much desperation leaked off of me.

He continues to scroll through the videos for a little while longer, showing us both in various compromising positions on the couch, floor, bathroom, even the kitchen. He smirks to himself as i become more flustered, before finally returning to the main camera roll.

“Well” he grinned, turning to face me, our faces merely inches apart.

“That explains a lot”

“Remind me never to go out ever again and keep myself locked up in my house forever” i groan, rubbing my eyes intensely until I begin seeing stars.

He laughs gently at my dramatic exclamation, as he reaches his hand out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, enjoying how flustered i looked.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, trust me, we were both just as bad as each other” he sighs, leaning back again his bed once again.

A silence fills the air between us, not awkward, just comfortable as our minds race with different thoughts, and confusing conversations.

We both turn to each other, at the same time, speaking over one another.

“I don’t eve-“

“Listen I’m-“

We both pause, laughing slightly, until he motions his head towards me, and i go first.

“I don’t even know your name..” I admit, wondering if he ever told me it to begin with.

He chuckles as i admit that i don’t know his name, clearly amused by it.

“it’s Hamzah” he replies casually, before smirking.

“And what’s yours? other than the pretty girl that stumbled into my bed last night?”

Blush covers my face before I can help it, and I smile sheepishly. “It’s y/n. You’re so shameless” i laugh, slapping his arm lightly as he chuckles, his curls falling into his dark eyes.

He grins in response to my shyness, clearly enjoying my reaction to his shameless flirting.

He looks down at my arms as i slap his, taking my wrists in his hands, his fingers almost completely circling my arms.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered” he teases, knowing how to get a rise out of me at this point. How I wish I was sober enough to remember last night..

I freeze, memories from last night flooding my head as my heart begins to panic, beating faster and faster.

“I should probably, uh, leave. Get out of here, you know..” i say awkwardly, standing up from the warm spot on the bed beside him, and looking around the room for my discarded clothes, evidence of our interaction last night.

I’d never gotten this close with someone before, and certainly not a man I had met the night before. It was surreal, how easy it was to talk to him, but I knew I needed to slow down.

He watches me as i stand up from the bed, his dark eyes trailing all over my body, shamelessly appreciating the view. He lets out a light sigh, not making an effort to stop me.

“Yeah.. probably should”

He mumbles, also standing up, the sheets falling from around his waist to the floor, revealing his muscular bare torso, causing my heart to drop to my stomach, as was forced to peel my eyes away.

I grab the wrinkled clothes, throwing them on me, as I tug my shoes on. A part of me wished he wanted me to stay, but at this point, I’d felt as though I’d overstayed my welcome, and was sadly prepared to never see this man again, no matter how much I would yearn for it.

He stands there, in nothing but low hung sweatpants, watching me throw on my clothes, his muscular chest on full display, showing his broad shoulders and defined collarbone.

He notices my slightly flustered expression as i look up at him. He grins, clearly enjoying the way i was staring at him, before speaking up again.

“You really in a hurry to leave, sweetheart?”

“I’ll get out of your hair, stop bothering you. Just give me-“ i huff, struggling to get my shoe on.

These fucking converse would be the death of me.

He chuckles at my frustration, watching me struggle with putting on my shoe, still half naked as his strong arms cross over his broad chest. He watches me carefully for a moment as i struggle, before stepping forward.

“Let me help you, silly”

He grins, moving to kneel down in front of me, grabbing my foot gently and guiding it into the shoe.

I sigh, pink creeping in my cheeks as he got to his knees in front of me.

“Thank you, Hamzah.” I spoke, tasting his name on my tongue, and enjoying the way it felt.

He smiled to himself as i said his name, clearly enjoying how i sounded when i said it, evident by the expression on his face.

He finished helping me put on my shoe, gently setting my foot back down on the floor. He looked up at me from his knelt position, peering up at me with a sly grin, his face now even closer to my body than before. He slowly got up, bringing me with him, as we both stood facing each other.

“No problem” He replied, his hands finding their way to my hips, his calloused palms settling on the skin beneath my cropped shirt, as I began to feel as though I might melt under his touch.

I softly gasp, a little breathless, as his fingers dance their way further up my shirt, leaving a trail of fire as they did.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, causing us to fly apart, my skin cooling as his touch departs.

He groans, rolling his eyes as the doorbell rings, a look of annoyance crossing his face.

“Stay here. I know who that is. I’ll be right back” He mutters.

He quickly disappears out of the room, heading for the front door.

I’m still stunned from our interaction, but I follow him, not listening to his commands. I needed to see who was at the door. Who interrupted our moment..

He strides hurriedly down the hall towards the front door, still in nothing but his low-hung sweatpants.

After opening the door, and then promptly slamming it shut, he lets out a frustrated sigh, turning to head back to his room to get a shirt, but stops in his tracks when he sees me following behind him.

“I told you to stay in my room” He says, his eyes brows furrowing as his brown eyes glance over me, my dishevelled state.

“Obviously I’m not gonna do that, be real. Whose at the door?” I question, my voice unwavering as I roll my eyes.

He rolls his eyes in response.

“It’s my stupid friend, Martin. He’s probably just here to gloat at me about getting with a girl last night too” he shakes his head, rubbing his hands over his face briefly.

Relief floods from me, whether i wanted it to or not.

He sighs as he says this, seemingly annoyed by the idea of his friend coming over just to rub another hookup in his face.

“I’ll uh, get to going then..” i mutter, avoiding his eyes as I fix my short shirt on my body awkwardly. I didn’t want to make it uncomfortable between him and his friend, and I knew I was outstaying my welcome.

The.. interaction we just had, was maybe just that. An interaction.

He stands in front of me, looking down into my eyes. He could tell that i was a mixture of frustrated and disappointed from his friend interrupting us both, and he felt the same way.

He reaches a hand up to brush my hair behind my ear, just like how he did earlier.

“I’ll walk you out” he mumbles, unlocking the door.

I let out a breathe I didn’t know I was holding, and when he swings the door open, and his friend sees us, he smirks.

He groans at the sight of his friend’s smirk, knowing exactly what his expression was for.

His friend’s eyes dart to me as he looks me up and down, clearly taking in how i was dressed in last night’s clothes.

His grin widens as he notices my flustered expression.

Hamzah grabs my wrist, his touch enlightening me, and slides us past his friend, who enters Hamzahs apartment nonchalantly, slamming the door behind him.

Any more slams, and that door would be knocked off its hinges.

His friend lets out a chuckle that’s heard through the other side of the door, as Hamzah drags me out of the apartment quickly, obviously aware that he was annoyed with his friend’s presence, and trying to get as far away from him as possible.

He keeps a firm grip on my wrist as he pulls me outside, letting out a sigh once we’re outside and away from his friend.

I sigh, looking around at the exterior of the apartment building, and recognising it. “I can walk back to my place from here..”

He pauses for a moment, letting my wrist slip from his grip. He looks down at me, his face showing he was feeling frustrated by the fact that he knew this was the end of things, and that I was about to leave.

“Are you sure? it’s kind of late. you shouldn’t walk on your own”

I smile, giggling. “It’s 11am, Hamzah.” I remind him, the daylight shining on us in the cold autumnal air.

He groans, facepalming himself at his own stupidity, causing me to let out a small chuckle, appreciating how he cared for me, however small it was, before running his hand over his face, the reality of the situation finally setting in.

He looks down at me again, his dark eyes searching mine, desperately trying to look for an excuse to keep me there longer.

The silence between us is unfathomable, and I can’t take it anymore.

“I’ll maybe see you around Hamzah.” I finally speak, breaking the tension between us, wrapping my arms around myself as I shiver, his arms not there to keep me warm anymore.

Hamzah watches me wrap my arms around myself, taking notice of the light shiver that passes through me. He sighs.

“Yeah. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime” He mutters bitterly, knowing it’s a lie the second the words leave his teeth.

I gently lean in, kissing him on the cheek, my warm lips on his cold face, as I smile, my heart heavy in my chest, and turn away from him, walking away.

As I take those steps, I can feel the weight of what just happened lingering in the air. It was brief, yet somehow profound, like a fleeting moment that leaves a mark.

I felt as though I had a connection with him, one that just wasn’t made too last. It was a moment, that I enjoyed, and appreciated in all its glory. But once a moment passes, you must let it move on.

I glance back, my eyes locking on his, catching a glimpse of his small, subtly sad smile, a reminder of the connection we shared, however little it was.

There's a bittersweet taste in my mouth, a mix of nostalgia and the realization that sometimes, moments are meant to be just that—moments.

———————-

He watches you walk farther away, his mind spinning in circles. He stands there on the sidewalk, his head swimming with a concoction of thoughts and emotions.

He couldn’t figure out why he was so reluctant to let you go, why he felt his heart ache in his chest watching you walk away.

He wanted to run up to you, to grab your hand and tug you back towards him, but just as quickly as the thought appeared in his head, it vanished.

Gone, not just for now, but for forever.

———————-

[themeraldee]

Can I get a wholesome little thingy of homie comforting his s/o that's like depressed what would he do? And give them snuggles? And although of course s/o giving homie headpats and caresses are top tier this time I want him to have to give headpats. Not because I'm depressed rn or anything (yes it is)

~1k | Homelander x gn!Reader | Established Relationship. Dealing with depression. Homelander's POV. Fluff. Just fluff really.

Something feels off when Homelander enters his penthouse. While he used to welcome the quiet of his home after he came back from events, this has recently changed. Ever since you’ve become a part of his life, any second spent without you feels like something’s missing. So it’s definitely out of order to get the same empty feeling when he's home. Usually you greet him with open arms or at least a ‘Welcome home’ shouted from another room.

“Babe?” Homelander calls out into the penthouse, the questioning tone reverberating through the open plan of his home. He knows you’re here. His question acts more as a reset, giving you a chance to play your role.

At your lack of response he quickly scans the room, seeing you in the bedroom. Very much awake but hidden under the sheets. So why wouldn’t you react to his presence? Shouldn’t that be something you look forward to?

You always do.

His mind runs at a hundred miles a minute. Even with the overwhelming positive effect you’ve had on his life it’s easy to fall into insecurity and despair, worrying about the worst possible outcome.

Homelander stops himself from rushing into the bedroom. But the slow one step at a time sinks the weight in his gut lower and lower. The anxiety of something being wrong has thrown him off-kilter. He doesn’t really know how to approach you when you’re distant like this.

So his over the top bravado will have to do.

“Heyyyy there sleepy head! You know it’s waaayyy too late for a lie in, don't you think?” He waltzes into the bedroom, hands on his hips, acting as if he was addressing a crowd. His voice is loud and clear, carrying a jovial tone that sounds a little too insincere even to his ears. 

He doubles down anyway. “If I knew you were planning to spend the entire day in bed I would’ve never left.” But, you don’t respond. He can hear your heartbeat, the slight rustle of the sheets and even the thud and glide of your finger scrolling down your phone screen.

When the silence gets too awkward for him to bear he peels the blanket from over your head, revealing you down to your waist. Immediately you squirm at the light coming from the outside after having your den of doom broken into.

Over the time that your love has blossomed into a relationship he’s gotten used to receiving comfort from you. You were there to listen to his countless rants and concerns. From the simple work related complaints to the horrors plaguing his nightmares. 

He should be able to do the same for you, right?

“Hmm… I’m just resting.” You sound dejected, empty. 

He swallows at the sound of you being so different. You’re missing the light that usually fills out the dark space in him. Homelander doesn’t know how to approach you. When’s the last time he’s had to comfort anyone? Truly comfort someone. Has anyone ever asked or even trusted him to be there for them?

Whether you’ve asked or not, he needs to be there for you.

It’s the least you deserve.

“Yeah right.”

He unzips his boots, setting them neatly next to each other before sliding under the sheets right behind you. He hooks his arm over you, pulling your back into his chest. And although you’re not reciprocal to his affection like you usually would be, the warmth he feels is enough to ease the anxiety in his gut.

He wedges his head in between your head and shoulder, watching with you as you mindlessly scroll through social media.

“How long have you been doom scrolling now?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head lightly against your shoulder.

 “I don’t know. A while I guess.” While you squirm in his hold your tone is still just as impenetrable.

“You’re not even looking at the screen!” When you don’t even react he frowns. “Alright, that’s enough of that.” He plucks your phone from your hands, turning and placing it on the bedside table away from you. He acts as a barrier between it and you, giving you no chance of getting it back. He rolls over back to you, greeted with the sight of you facing him.

Instantly he pulls you into him, both arms tightly around you with heavy comfort. It’s what he would’ve wanted in times of despair. It’s what you do when he seeks comfort. The whole body embrace where all he can focus on is you. It always grounds him.

He hopes it has a similar effect on you.

“What’s wrong?” He says. This time in a soft, low voice. No longer trying to put on a show. He’s meant to be there for you, not for a crowd.

“I don’t really know how to talk about it… Or if I even want to…” While you don’t sound like yourself, part of him is glad to hear your sadness. It’s better than the dejected empty voice. The closer you are to revealing your true sorrows the closer he is to getting you to feel better.

“Okay. You can… I don’t know, at least try to tell me something about what’s going on. Orrr, I will be reciting all of the amendments to the Constitution of the United States.” He’s gambling with the teasing tone of his voice but it pays off when you groan and giggle.

“Oh god no, not again!” 

“Welp, it’s your choice.” By now he can’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips. He gives you a soft squeeze.

“Alright, I can try.” You concede with a calm defeat.

“Good. That’s a start.” He kisses the top of your head, still holding and caressing you.

But most importantly, actually listening to you.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic):

@rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade @littlegaaby @jokesonyoupup

@nommingonfood @infinetlyforgotten @nervoussystemss

[sorapricots]

Comfort in Your Arms

Summary: Nanami has been awake for his work for three days straight without a single break, so when he finally does all he wants to do is to crawl into your arms.

Pair: Nanami Kento x Sorcerer!Reader 

Genre: Fluff 

Warning: Nanami or the plot might not really match the canon timeline in JJK since it’s been awhile since I actually watch/read JJK.

A/N: A personal request from my friend irl lol. I need this brain juice to warm up my head for writing papers in college.

W.C: 1,2k

Sometimes being a person with a double job as sorcerer and an office worker has its perks. One of them will be having a double income. But on the other hand, being a sorcerer and an office worker is like a double edged sword because it also means you have so little time to rest your body and mind.

Nanami is one of the prime examples of a person with a double job as sorcerer and office worker. Yes, he might have enough income to live a comfortable life for you and for him, but he has to trade that comfortable life with endless working hours that always drains his body to the point of exhaustion. 

Today has been marked as the third day of Nanami working in his office. He can feel fatigue start to creep slowly to his body due to lack of sleep and irregular eating habits he has for the past three days. His eyes are droopy and gloomy while his skin starts to turn pale. But all he can do is let out a soft sigh and push himself to continue doing his job a bit more as he grabs the last stack of documents that start to pile up on his desk due to him taking a two day break the day before to finish a mission that was gifted from the higher ups to him.

Your voice asking him to let you take over his mission echoing in the back of his mind as his mindless fingers start to type on the keyboard while his eyes blankly stare at the screen in front of him. He let out a grunt as he blinked the tiredness away with coming home to you in his mind.

After what feels like eternity, Nanami finally closed the last document map on his desk and put it on top of the already finished documents pile. A rough sigh rolled out from his throat as he put a towel on top of his face while he let his body relax just for a little bit. He can feel his head throbbing in pain before he pushes himself to start getting ready to come home to you.

Nanami’s movements are slow but messy as he loosen up the tie that is wrapped around his neck. His tired eyes scanned around the empty and dark office as he realized he is once again becoming the last person in the office. With another tired sigh the blonde hair man finally left the office.

The trip back home is pretty uneventful for Nanami as it’s already late. Only occasionally the man stopped to slay some small curses here and there but other than that he didn’t find anything interesting. 

.

.

.

A grunt escapes Nanami's lips as he finally returns home. His hand carefully opened the front door to which his eyes immediately landed on your weapon on the entrance that is still dirty with the remnants of the curses that you slayed that day. Nanami quickly makes mental notes to clean your weapon later once he gets enough rest. 

Excitement of meeting you buzzing through his veins as he carefully takes off his shoes and puts aside his bags. His hands skillfully peel off his clothes leaving him only in his boxer as he put the rest of his clothes in the laundry room. Quietly he walked to your shared room. His eyebrows narrowed a little bit as he realized there’s dim light emitting from your shared room through the crack from under the door. 

Nanami carefully opens the door letting it creak slowly, softly announcing his presence to you. Your eyes slowly move up from the book you read and meet his brown tired eyes. A smile flourished on your lips as you silently put a bookmark on the book you read just now.

“Welcome home.” You greeted him with a whisper as you quickly moved closer to him. Nanami gives you a silent nod as he walks towards the bathroom with you following behind.

“Go back to bed, My love. I will clean up real quick.” His voice is hoarse due to how barely he uses it. You let out a soft hum as you peek your head inside the bathroom. Your eyes stare at Nanami’s well built naked figure full of adoration.

“You don’t want to eat something?” Quietly you ask as your man steps into the shower. Nanami only shook his head softly for his answer. You let out a soft ‘okay’ before you walk back to the bed and continue to read your book while you wait for your lover to come lay down with you.

.

.

.

The shower finally stops and the room goes quiet. You heightened your hearing as your eyes are still glued to the book in your hands. And suddenly the bathroom doors slide open as Nanami’s body wash reaches your nose. Nanami stares at you quietly as you observe him. His skin is already less pale than when he just came back and there’s a glint of light in his brown eyes now. You smile softly as Nanami walks towards the bed and crawls to you.

You lift your arms mindlessly letting the man crawl into your arms and lay down on your chest as he circles his strong thick arms around your waist. A heavy sigh of relief escapes Nanami’s throat as he starts to feel his body relaxing from your body warmth. You let out a breathy chuckle as you put the bookmarks in your book and toss the book away. 

Your hands carefully caress Nanami’s bare back before you start massaging all of his muscle knots. Groans keep coming out from Nanami’s lips as your hands skillfully ease the muscle pain he has from overworking. You switch from massaging his back to rubbing it softly every once in a while.

“You really need to take it easy on your working life, dearest.” your voice is soft as he melts under your touch. He let out a hum while he snuggled his face deeper to your chest.

“It’s just because I have to take that two day mission from the higher ups.” Nanami’s voice is muffled by your skin. You rolled your eyes before you softly clicked your tongue.

“Let me help you by taking over some of your mission then. I don’t want you to tire yourself up like this.” Your voice drips with worries as your hands move to his head. Softly scratching his scalp earning a grunt from the bulky tired man.

“There’s no need to do that, my love. Just sit still and be pretty is already enough for me.” You frown as you open your mouth about to retort back when Nanami pulls you to a kiss. A hum escapes from your lips as you melt under his kiss.

“I know you are a strong sorcerer too. But I just want you to be comfortable with what you have right now. And if that means I have to work harder, I don’t mind, baby. Your comfort is my top priority.” His words are soft and full of love as he puts his forehead against yours. You let out a whine as you pull your lover to a hug. Nanami let out a chuckle while he tightened his arms around your hips.

“I love you, Kento.” you declare it with such a passion Nanami can’t help but chuckle.

“I love you too, my sweetheart.” he answered before he pulled you to a passionate kiss.

[lanamohanad5]

A plea to save my family and treat my father: any donation can save our lives and provide the urgent medical care my father needs. Every bit of help restores our hope for a better future.🙏

I am Lana, a girl who once lived with dreams and simplicity, a student of engineering aspiring to build a future filled with hope. But war has extinguished the light in my life and my family’s. We have tasted the bitterness of displacement eight times, each time challenging death and destruction that surrounds us, navigating between tanks and missiles with fear that knows no mercy.

Our home, which we built with hard work in 2016, has been destroyed, leaving us without shelter and security. My father was struck by shrapnel in his chest, stripped of his source of income when his workplace was directly bombed.

Today, we have nothing but a torn tent that barely shields us from the cold and hunger. We lack adequate food, clothing, and warmth; we are merely surviving. I ask you, from the depths of your compassionate hearts, we desperately need any support that can bring us a glimmer of hope, for every donation can be a lifeline in this darkness.🥹

Our lives were once beautiful, filled with laughter and dreams. Now, they’re just memories we hold onto to find the strength to keep going.

Vetted by 👈@gaza-evacuation-funds

And @ibtisams #list 13

Our torn tent, barely shielding us from the cold and offering no protection from the rain. Every corner tells a story of resilience, and every tear is a new wound added to our lives.

The struggle of hand-washing clothes and cooking over an open fire – each task a reminder of the hardship we endure daily.

Every day, we survive death, shelling, and shrapnel – like the fragments that struck my father in his chest.

Please, donate. Every contribution, no matter how small, can make a significant difference in our lives. We are facing unimaginable challenges, and your support can provide us with food, shelter, and medical care. In this time of despair, your kindness can restore hope and help us rebuild what has been lost. Thank you for opening your hearts to us.🙏

[legionofshaza]

Daylight is beautiful, isn't it?

Lucien week day 3 @lucienweekofficial

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

The first light of dawn pierced through the cracks in the heavy drapes of Lucien’s study. It was rare for him to be awake at this hour, the daylight usually a time for quiet recovery from the shadows he thrived in. But this morning was different. The light touched his pale skin, brushing over his sharp features, and though he did not flinch from its presence, there was a lingering tension in the air.

Lucien had always been a creature of the night—one who found solace in the darkness where the veil between the worlds was 

thinnest, where secrets whispered louder and magic flowed in every shadow. But the daylight? It exposed too much. It left no place for darkness to hide. Yet, here he stood, transfixed by the dawn.

A soft knock on the door stirred him from his reverie.

"Enter," he called, his voice low and steady.

Elain stepped into the room. Her presence was quiet but not unnoticed. She had a gift for sneaking up on even the most observant souls, and for Lucien, she was as much a mystery as she was a comfort. She, too, was different from her usual self this morning, her light brown eyes reflecting the soft glow of the morning sun, her lips curving into a small smile as their gazes met.

"I thought I might find you here," Elain said softly, her voice like the gentle rustling of leaves in the early light.

Lucien nodded, turning his gaze back to the window. "I couldn't sleep."

The room fell into a brief silence, save for the quiet hum of the waking world outside. Birds sang faintly in the distance, and the cool breeze of dawn stirred the curtains. Lucien felt Elain’s gaze on him, curious and warm, yet she said nothing more. She didn’t have to. In her presence, silence had always been enough.

Elain walked toward him, her footsteps barely audible, and stood beside him at the window. She, too, looked out at the horizon as the golden light slowly spilled across the landscape.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" she whispered, her voice softer than the daylight.

Lucien glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was bathed in sunlight, her chestnut hair catching the rays, turning to gold in the morning light. There was a quiet grace about her, something ethereal, as if she belonged more to the light than the shadows where Lucien resided.

"It is," he admitted, though his voice was reluctant.

Elain turned her head to look at him, her eyes bright and searching. "You don’t have to be afraid of it, you know."

Lucien blinked, surprised by her words. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he let it out in a quiet sigh. Afraid of daylight? Perhaps. He had spent so long avoiding it, retreating into the comfort of night where his past, his pain, could remain hidden.

"I’m not afraid of it," Lucien replied, but his voice lacked conviction.

Elain gave him a small, knowing smile. "Maybe not afraid, but..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "You’ve been running from it for a long time."

Lucien’s jaw tightened. He turned his gaze back to the window, watching as the sun slowly lifted higher into the sky. "The daylight is harsh," he muttered. "It reveals too much. There are some things better left in the dark."

Elain took a step closer to him, her shoulder brushing his. "I don’t think so," she said quietly. "I think the light heals. It may reveal things we don’t want to see, but it also shows us what we need to see."

Lucien remained silent, the weight of her words settling over him. His life had been a series of battles—against himself, against the world, against his fate. The night had always been his ally, cloaking him in shadows, hiding his scars. But in the daylight, there was no hiding.

Elain’s hand brushed his, her touch feather-light, yet it grounded him in a way nothing else could. She had a way of making the darkness seem less oppressive, of making the light feel... inviting.

"I used to fear the daylight too," Elain confessed, her voice barely a whisper. "After everything that happened, the idea of waking up to another day seemed unbearable. But then I realized... each day is a chance. To heal, to move forward. To find something good again."

Lucien’s heart ached at her words. He glanced at her, really looking at her this time. She had been through so much—torn apart by war, grief, and loss—and yet, she stood here, a quiet force of hope. Her strength was not the kind that roared; it was the kind that endured.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Lucien allowed himself to truly feel the warmth of the sunlight on his skin. It didn’t burn, as he had feared. It didn’t expose him in the way he had expected. Instead, it was gentle, like a promise that the darkness didn’t have to last forever.

"I’m tired of running," Lucien admitted softly, the confession slipping out before he could stop it.

Elain smiled at him, and it was as though the sun itself had blessed her with its light. "Then don’t run," she said. "You don’t have to. Not anymore."

In that moment, standing beside Elain in the soft glow of dawn, Lucien realized that perhaps the daylight wasn’t something to fear. It was a reminder that even after the longest, darkest night, the sun would always rise again.

And maybe, just maybe, he was ready to rise with it.

✾End❁

[i-hold-deaths-hand-in-mine]

an excerpt from the end of lilia's trial in my fic

Lilia was unable to change them; that ability was etched into the start and end of the universe, simultaneously, of course, and unmovable, unharnessable. She could, however, craft some of these moments into beautiful ones instead of terrible; and she could walk through the ones that she could not craft at all. 

Because that is the only thing any of us can do – despite nearly all of humanity attempting to deny this fundamental truth soaked into the very fabric of existence and time itself. This is all we can do. And this can be enough – 

These tiny moments, woven into infinity, and a choice to make them beautiful when we can, and to face the terrible when we must. 

This is what we all are given. This is what we all can do.

So, Lilia took that one, with Wanda’s sad face and her son too far away from her for what was going to happen, and she crafted it. She turned it beautiful, with the fire’s glow against the laughing, smiling faces of mother and son for just one more moment, one more beautiful, tiny moment.

It was all she could do. 

And…that was okay.

No longer was she blinded by fear and procrastination of the inevitable, resentful of herself for an ability she was always meant to master, for moments she was always meant to explore.

She smiled to herself as an image of the cards on the table flashed before her eyes, her own words echoing in her mind, “Where are we, and where will we be?” :

Page of Wands

Reversed: Lack of direction, procrastination, creating conflict

Upright: Exploration, excitement, freedom

A familiar and nevermore unwelcome feeling itched at her mind, and she closed her eyes, let it wash over her, gave her body in the moment to consciousness from another, and when she opened them, she was once more in that dark, terrible cave, with Death lurking in the shadows. 

So she made it beautiful. 

“It’s good to see you, my friend,” Lilia said with a warm, inviting smile.

Death stepped out, somehow bringing forth a light and growth and beauty that Lilia did not think possible. “Tell me of your journeys,” urged Death kindly, sensing that this moment of Lilia understood them enough to do so. 

They spoke excitedly as old friends – so very old and familiar – until she was called back to the moment she had left, and she returned with no fear, no longing for more time or less. 

And with that, she released a long, heavy breath, one that her soul had been holding since both birth and death, and she was 

free,

free, 

free. 

[lightningelite]

My name is Abdul Ashi, since October 7, 2023, we have been suffering from a brutal war that has destroyed our dreams and hopes, and has gone beyond the limits of human comprehension. During this brutal war, we have endured hardships that mountains cannot bear. We are facing severe water shortages and severe food and nutrition shortages due to the blockade in northern Gaza for a year, which has prevented basic supplies such as meat, vegetables and fruits from entering. This situation has forced us to eat animal feed, which has led to weight loss, various diseases and a significant weakening of our immune systems.

We are also suffering from severe water shortages, often walking for about a kilometer to get one gallon of water, which is about 16 liters, barely enough for seven members of the family. We have also suffered from repeated displacement and moving from one place to another and from one area to another due to the horrific and brutal bombing.

In addition, we have been deprived of education and the opportunity to build a future. I was studying to become a doctor to help people, but fate did not allow it as my university, which I dreamed of studying in, was destroyed. During this war, thoughts overwhelmed me - how will I build my future? How will I continue my studies?

We also suffer from fear and terror due to the bombing, fire belts and explosives. Hospitals, which are the lifeline for every patient and needy person, have been destroyed. We face a shortage of medicines and vaccines while diseases increase and destroy us, with no solution in sight as there are no hospitals or medical supplies available here in Gaza. We live in constant fear for my younger siblings because they have not received their general vaccinations, especially after the widespread spread of polio due to the lack of cleaning materials and the large accumulation of waste in the streets. Sewage also floods the streets, posing a great danger to our children. I suffered from severe illness, and I fought it for about two weeks with fatigue, dizziness and other symptoms. It is a deadly disease, and as I mentioned before, there is no cure for it due to the destruction of hospitals and health centers.

We also suffer from a lack of cooking gas, which forces us to use wood and plastic to light fires, which can lead to poisoning. We have been without electricity since October 7th, spending days in the dark, which is very frightening for my younger siblings. This has made it very difficult to charge our phones and batteries for lighting at night. We had to travel kilometers from our home to find places with electricity, which resulted in high costs to charge our phones and batteries.

In addition, we have not had a steady income since the beginning of the war.

I am asking you to help my family so that we can live a better life.

🚨 abdallah aleashi 'aeish fi shamal qitae ghazat🚨

'ana waeayilati nueani waeayilati min aljue waleatash walnuzuh almustamiri

laqad 'ansha'at hadha alhisab litalab musaeadatikum fi hadhih almihnat alsaebat bialtabarue litalbiat alaihtiajat aldaruriati, hayth kunaa naetamid ealaa almusaeadat alaijtimaeiat qabl alharba.

hadafi hu musaeadat eayilati ealaa aleaysh bi'aman watawfir aldaruriaat allaazimat lileaysh hayth 'ana hunak ghala' almaeishat wasueubat alhusul ealaa aldaruriaat natlub musaeadatakum fi mughadarat qitae ghazat li'iinqadh hayaat eayilati

laqad marat sanat mundh 'an qalabat alharb hayaatana rasaan ealaa eaqaba. walyawm najid 'anfusana eajizin fi manzil hayil lisuqut la tuafir lana maljaan min albard alqaris 'aw almatar aladhi la yahda'a. 'atfalana aladhin yanbaghi 'an yaerifuu aldif' wal'aman yarqudun ealaa 'ard baridat waratbatin, waqulubina muthqalatan bialkhawf ealaa salamitihim.

raja' tabaraeuu limusaeadat eayilati lilkhuruj min ghazat 🙏

Please donate to help my family get out of Gaza

Instagram link to check

[undertalebabbleblog]

Was there every any hope for Dream and Nightmare?

Could they have stayed in their universe, stayed together, stayed happy?

Maybe. But somehow, I can't see it, at least not after the village comes into the picture. They might have been able to stay in their own little bubble forever, but as soon as that outside force exists, the clock starts ticking.

It was Nightmare who couldn't take it anymore. But it could have easily been Dream. Either way, it was only a matter of time. I don't think there was any avoiding it, not really. Not in their situation, not with who they are.

Nightmare. The scapegoat, the dark one, the moon, the night. Tied to his brother by his very name, because even though he wasn't a nightmare, he's Dream's opposite, and that is all he was ever seen as by others. The dark to Dream's light, the negativity to Dream's positivity. Always defined by his brother, even before he was hurt for merely existing. Did he ever really get to be his own person?

And Dream, the golden one, the perfect one, the kind one, the sun. Always so helpful and positive. Always in demand, because who doesn't want to be happy? Their happiness is his responsibility. So he smiles, he helps, he conceals all the stress and sadness and anger and grief. He can't be seen with negative emotions, he can't effect others with his own feelings, he can't let his own feelings or needs or self matter when there's always other people who need him. So he keeps up that sunshine mask, keeps all the clouds and rain and storms locked in the dark where nobody can see them.

You can't maintain masks like that under enough built-up pressure. Eventually, something breaks.

Maybe they still had a chance. Broken things can heal, after all. Maybe they could have helped each other, grown, figured out a way to make things better.

Or maybe they were doomed from the start.

All I know is that if one didn't break, the other would have eventually.